#clone wars fanfiction

[lothcat-lothcat-lothwolf-run]

this would go crazy on the holonet

[skybreakprimeonao3]

He had a name before he was assigned to a battalion, even though everyone called him Shiny until he proved himself in battle. Though once he did earn the right, he decided to stick with the name given to him by the other cadets.

“I’m called Two Tone,” he told his Captain, who raised an eyebrow. To the silent question, he shrugged. “No one told me why.”

And that was the truth. He wasn’t inclined to whistle or sing. He got the name long before he reached the age of his voice cracking in forced puberty. Just one day in class, one of his batchmates laughed and called him Two Tone, and it stuck.

Somehow, he never figured out why he was called that until after a joint battle with General Unduli and General Kenobi, fighting to take back a planet from the Separatists, at the request of the local government. Everyone was giving him weird looks ever since he had painted his armor, and he just told himself it was probably because of the design. He always had problems getting it correct on his armor, and he didn’t want to ask someone for help, so he was stuck with his own quality.

Cleaning up after the fight was normal, trudging around the battlefield to find any fallen comrades and equipment, seeing the medic if hurt, packing things away again. Two Tone thought it was weird when he didn’t bump into anyone from the 212th, but figured it was because they might have been on the other side of the battlefield. He did his best sticking to his brothers as things began to get loaded into the LAAT/is, tired and quiet as he road the drop ship up to the Venator.

He assisted with unloading things, feeling the ship shudder faintly as it transitioned into hyperspace, though his movements came to a halt as he saw General Kenobi walking by the area. Frowning, he turned to the Clone beside him.

“Why isn’t General Kenobi with the 212th?”

The Clone frowned at him. “This is the 212th…”

Two Tone prided himself on being levelheaded, so when he started to panic so hard that General Kenobi came to an abrupt stop and looked at him, he was proud that he didn’t run away or collapse or simply imploded.

“Are you all right, dear one?” General Kenobi asked and a part of Two Tone’s mind was amused to learn that the rumors were correct about the endearing terms the man used.

“I apologize, sir,” Two Tone managed to squeak out. “But… I was assigned to General Unduli… I’m on the wrong ship.”

General Kenobi’s head tilted to the side curiously, glancing over Two Tone’s armor.

“Have you been tested for colorblindness?” the General asked curiously.

***

“Deuteranopia colorblindness,” Obi-Wan said, giving Luminara a faint smile. “The poor man was so embarrassed. Evac tested him and decided to do a ship wide test. Apparently colorblindness isn’t too uncommon among the Clones.”

The holo of the Jedi Master shook her head, a fond sigh escaping her. “When he painted his armor orange and green, I thought he was living up to his name. I am glad to hear that we hadn’t lost him in battle.”

“No, just temporarily misplaced,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle.

“Joint custody then, until you can return him to me?”

“Well keep him safe, I promise you.”

[am3mb3r123]

i love you Clone Wars fics that show the clones as complex individual beings

i love you Clone Wars fics that show the intricate complexities of clone relationships

i love you Clone Wars fics that showcase unusual family dynamics

i love you Clone Wars fics that focus on batchmates and squadmates and twins and lovers and husbands

i love you Clone Wars fics <3

[artist-kreating-stuff]

You’re as Beautiful as the Day I Lost You

“I… I know what you’re going to say, General,” Cody started out slowly. “How could I have done it? Kill you after everything we’ve been through… or at least, attempt to?”

His commanding officer… no, former commanding officer only stared at him, wide gaze unreadable. His face looked worn, his hair was more white than auburn, and even the humble desert structure behind him seemed wildly out of character. Yet Cody would never forget those bright blue eyes that put every sky Cody had ever seen to shame.

The stifling silence prompted Cody to continue. “W-well… I was given an order, General! F-from the Emperor… n-no, the Chancellor himself!” He had to remind himself that Palpatine was only the humble High Chancellor of the Republic at the time of the order. The simple fact reminded him just how drastically the galaxy had changed that day. “Good soldiers follow orders, that’s what we were always taught! Follow orders or risk being decommissioned! I was acting on instinct - we all were! I’m not even sure we were entirely aware of what we were doing at the time. If we knew what would become of the Republic, I promise you, we never would have done it!”

It was somewhat of the truth, though not the whole truth. The whole truth was that he wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. Before the order from the Chancellor came through, he had been excited about the potential prospect of the war finally ending. After the order came through, all he could think about was shooting down his General and every other Jedi he saw. Part of him at the time had screamed traitors, enemies to the Republic, shoot them down, kill them all.

The other part of him, which had been much quieter than the other part, had whispered why, how could you, they were your allies, your friends.

The only traitor here is you.

He shook himself to rid himself of the memory. It was the truth, yes, but it wasn’t a good enough explanation.

Though for what he and his brothers had done, he feared that there never would be a good enough explanation.

“I-I know I wronged you very badly…” He stuttered, having not thoroughly thought out this part of his speech. Part of him had doubted he’d even get through his poor attempt at an explanation for his actions before his former Jedi slid his lightsaber through his chest. “A-and I’m sorry that it took me so long to question the order. I thought that the Empire sought to bring the peace that the Republic failed to, we all did… most of us still do, I believe. Though the things I’ve seen have caused me to think to the contrary…”

With a start, he realized just how close Obi-Wan had gotten to him. Somewhere during his clumsy speech, the former Jedi had started moving towards him, his boots moving like whispers along the sand. His hands hung limply at his sides as he continued to stare at Cody; he wasn’t reaching for a weapon, yet, but Cody felt his panic spike all the same.

“What we did - what I did was wrong, I realize that now!” He claimed loudly, scuttling backwards two steps for every step Obi-Wan took forwards. His escape attempts were quickly shut down - one flex from Obi-Wan’s fingers and he was stuck in place, his limbs refusing to listen to his frantic commands to move. He may have been living on Tatooine, the hellhole of the galaxy, for years at this point, but he was still every bit the Jedi Cody had fought beside.

Had commanded his men to shoot down.

Obi-Wan still hadn’t said anything, his expression betraying nothing as he kept Cody in place with nothing more than his mind. Cody found his patience wearing thin. With everything that had happened, with everything that he was laying bare in front of him, he believed he was owed some emotion. “Stop being such a Jedi, sir!” He growled in his face. Obi-Wan was quickly closing the distance between them, causing Cody’s tone to switch from annoyed to full on frantic. “Go on - shout, scream, say something!”

With only a few inches between them, Obi-Wan did finally do something. He reached out and laid his hand on Cody’s cheek.

Cody’s eyes went wide at the contact. He still couldn’t move, but the same could not be said for Obi-Wan. His calloused fingers twitched over Cody’s skin, tracing the ridges of his scar and the new wrinkles that had popped during his service to the Empire. His bright blue eyes scanned Cody from head to toe, taking in his unruly streaked hair and the desert attire he had thrown together from various sources. His chest and torso, the latter a little thicker than the last time Cody had seen him, heaved with quick, short breaths.

The entire time, Cody couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe. He didn’t dare to, lest he break whatever spell was currently keeping Obi-Wan from killing him. He couldn’t tell if it was the Force or his own desperate will at this point.

It was only when Obi-Wan finished his inspection of Cody did he finally show emotion. He fixed his bright blue eyes on Cody’s wide brown ones and smiled warmly. He brought his face, weary and lined from the years spent in the desert, close enough for Cody to count the tears starting to drip down his cheeks. His cracked lips separated and he spoke in a mere whisper, “My dear Cody… you’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

A broken gasp filled the air between them, and it took a minute for Cody to realize that it had come from him. The Force hold that had been keeping him in place finally dissipated, but it didn’t matter. With those simple words, the dam he had been building since he had first met the great Obi-Wan Kenobi came tumbling down. Every lovesick emotion he had beaten down, every declaration of devotion he had swallowed, every small act of kindness he had convinced himself was one of duty instead of love, every overwhelming feeling of guilt he had felt since the day he’d ordered his execution… it filled him up so completely that he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

The crushing wave of emotion reached his eyes, causing his own tears to well up and fall. Unable to deal with it all at once, he squeezed his eyes shut and allowed his head to lower until it rested against his chest. From beyond the darkness of his eyes, he heard Obi-Wan exhale a shaky breath of his own. Cody felt him move his fingers down his cheek until he was cupping his chin, gently pressing his face upwards. He thought that would be it, but he suddenly felt the soft pressure of two lips meeting his own, accompanied by the warm brush of facial hair.

Cody allowed himself to relax into the sensation, allowed it to tame the wave of emotion. When he felt Obi-Wan pull away, he finally opened his eyes, though made no move to wipe his tears. The warmth of Obi-Wan’s fingers disappeared from his chin, trailing down his chest to interlace with his own. The two of them simply stood there amongst the sand and the heat, smiling through their tears at each other.

Cody thought he would never be here. During the war, it had been unspeakable - he was a clone, one of many faces, whereas Obi-Wan was a Jedi. After the order came through, he had been positive Obi-Wan was dead, had seen him tumble off the cliff himself. When he finally started to question the order, he was devastated that he’d killed Obi-Wan without ever telling him his feelings. It wasn’t until he’d heard the passing mention of a desert hermit by the name of Ben Kenobi that he finally allowed himself to hope.

The Empire was still a problem, he was very well aware of that. Both of them were wanted men now, Cody even more so because the Empire was at least aware that he was alive. But now, with the sands of Tatooine around them and the twin Suns shining overhead, the threat of the Empire seemed so far away, and Cody couldn’t care less.

Because after so very long, he finally had his Jedi.

—————

After reading so many Codywan fanfics, I finally wrote one of my own! That one scene from How to Train Your Dragon 2 has always been one of my favorites from the series, and I wondered how it would look as a Codywan scenario.

Codywan fans, how did I do?

[kometqh]

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

501st x F!Jedi!Reader General Skywalker clearly wasn't a reliable source of intell, having pointed you and Rex's squad into the icy tumbra of a long deserted planet, however, it was due to his calculated mistake that the Clones were able to reveal your deeply hidden desires. Being stuck in a cave with numerous handsome, attractive men was not on your to-do list, yet you weren't complaining. Word Count: 3028

Warnings: Unedited, random brain rainbow vomit I had whilst practicing writing techniques <3 It's somewhat (quite) spicy towards the end. There is a lot of fluff throughout most of it! A/N: This is mostly just Tup, Rex and Fives x reader as this was a very spontaneous fic T_T pls forgive me.

"General Skywalker said this would be an easy mission," Fives hissed under his breath, the deep, reverbrating sound of his voice lost underneath the wolfish howling of the wind, clusters of snow beating at his helmet. This was supposed to be a quick and easy diplomatic trip, but where did he and the 501st Legion find themselves? Somewhere on a deserted, icy, snowy planet. "My toes are about to fall off!"

"Yeah, he promised us there'd be clear blue skies and hot weather. A beach even!" Echo added on, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. Rather than being on a hot, sandy beach, the brothers had found themselves treading through waist-deep snow, their fingers and toes turning into icicles, their blasters heavy in their grasps. 

"I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic trip, Captain," Fives continued, his voice becoming white noise as Rex all but ignored his brother, gracing him with an occasional hum or grunt, to let him know he was listening. But he wasn't hearing. Rex was also unhappy with the circumstances, but it was his job to do this kind of thing. It's not like the clones could refuse not going on a mission, not going head-first into a battle, so he definitely would have appreciated General Skywalker's honesty, over trickery. 

The weather was only getting worse, the wind and snow beating at the men cruelly, the blue paint on their armour completely disappeared under the clusters of snow that had latched themselves onto the clones. 

He paused in his tracks, scanning the area through his optical goggles. He spotted something. Something dark, something round. His men stopped behind him, eerily silent as they anticipated their Captain's next words. 

Rex, turning to face his brothers, couldn't help the way his shoulders visibly relaxed as he relayed the news, "I see a cave entrance just a couple yards ahead, boys! We will seek shelter there!" He exclaimed, waving his arm, signalling for them to keep going, to keep following him. 

In the very back, just behind Tup and Jesse, a lone, female Jedi guarded their backs, one hand hovering protectively over her weapon, the other shielded away in the pocket of her coat. A backpack hung onto her shoulders, the leather material soaked and cold, receiving most of the onslaught of the weather. 

Her mind was wandering, body craving to feel the heat of a hot sun glazing against her bare skin, just as Anakin had hinted to. But instead, she was stuck walking through a blizzard, her body cold and tired.

She had also been excited to spend some quality time with the boys from the 501st, whom she had been recently often paired with for missions. The sight of them all relaxing and enjoying their time on the beach, with their tops exposed, tan skin glistening under the sunlight.. Yeah, that would have been a sight worth seeing.

A sudden, much harsher gust of wind jolted her from her thoughts, clumps of snow quickly settling against the icy skin on her face. 

Her robes, too, were soaked, struggling to maintain the warmth in her body as she did her best to follow the path created by the clones, snow crunching under her winter boots. 

She too wasn't made aware of the true conditions of the mission. She couldn't tap into the force either, to predict or to feel some kind of warning of the mission ahead. What was Skywalker thinking? He was lucky none of her men had fallen! The moment she'd get back, the moment her eyes would land on him, he would be wise to run for the hills. She could imagine the fear in his eyes as she comically choked him out, swaying the male back and forth in a fit of anger.

Relief flooded the squad as one by one, they made their way into the cave, it being cleared by their Captain and medic, Rex and Kix. 

Quickly setting camp, the clones hovered around their makeshift fire, some huddled close together, others snuggling under individual, soaked blankets. The snow had penetrated all of their supplies; food, water, tents and blankets. All they could do was hope that the fire would last long enough for the storm to pass, for their blankets to dry out and warm up. 

"What the hell was the General thinking?" Fives muttered, his eyebrows furrowed. He rubbed his bare hands together until they were warm enough, and then he shifted closer to the fire. 

His feet stung, the feeling just barely coming back to him after that gruelling tread. He was sure if his feet didn't fall off yet, then something else soon would. 

You exhaled a heavy sigh, a blanket resting over your shoulders as you extended your palms out towards the fire. Rex had been kind enough to lend you his blanket, noticing that your robes and skirt were practically drenched from the weather. Sure, you weren't dressed for the beach, but you also weren't dressed well enough for a blizzard. 

You were lucky to have been warned, or rather told, by Master Kenobi of the true conditions of your mission. If you hadn't been, your troops wouldn't have had enough time to prepare for the weather. 

Looking over your squad, you made eye contact with Tup. A worried frown ghosted over his rough features, the creases that you hated so much appearing on his forehead. 

Slowly, you made your way over to the trooper, one hand outstretched.

"Tup? Are you okay?" You asked, resting your hand over his shoulder. As if startled, the man looked to you, his brows quirked in surprise. 

"G-General? Why do you ask?" He questioned, gaze flickering down to your hand, before coming back up to stare into your eyes. A soft, pink hue dusted over his cheeks, and your heart fluttered at the sight. Sure, he was sweet and kind, he was the shyest of your men. He was almost like a puppy, his chocolatey brown eyes so deep, so sweet, you had lost yourself in them again. 

He was the only man who gazed into your eyes long enough for you to drown, a soft smile erupting on your face as you fought your best to not reach up and caress his cheek in your palm. 

"General? Are you listening?" He asked, his gloved hands reaching up to shake at your shoulders, gently. 

Your lashes fluttered over your eyes, taking in a deep exhale, you shrugged. Were you really okay? 

Taking a moment to respond, your gaze flickered up, noticing how wet his hair was. 

"Tup, d'you want me to dry your hair?" The words tumbled from your mouth before your brain could finish processing their meaning. Tup's eyes widened into saucers as he stood there, frozen. You had never been so caring to your men, at least, not like this. 

Remember that pink hue that dusted his cheeks just a moment ago? Yeah, now that's turned into a beetroot blush, the colour painting his ears, his face and neck in a deep shade of reddish-purple. Would it be okay for you to display such blatant acts of affection? Wouldn't that be against the rules and regulations of the Jedi council? Against the regulations of the GAR? If so, would his brothers snitch?

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to-" You started, your mouth quickly dropping into the shape of an 'o' as Tup interrupted you.

"General, I would love for you to dry my hair." He said with a soft smile, scratching at the back of his nape.

Realising it was too late now to back out, you gave a small nod of your head before taking his gloved hand in yours, the leathery material scraping nicely against your soft skin, as you led him closer to the campfire. 

Motioning for Tup to sit down, you stood directly behind, and, above him, reaching to remove your dry blanket from your shoulders. You didn't have a towel, so a blanket should be a good enough substitute. Your hands reached to remove his hairtie, sliding it over your hand to rest on your wrist, your fingers quickly making their way to masssage Tup's scalp. 

As he leaned his head back into your soft hold, Tup couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped his lips. Your fingernails grazed softly against his skin, tugging gently at his soft curls, sending eletric shivers down the male's spine. 

But it was when your hands slid from his scalp, over to his nape and shoulders, applying soft but firm pressure against his tired muscles that the involuntary groan escaped his lips, rumbling deep from within his chest. 

Your body stiffened, stopping your ministrations as a familiar spark shot through your heart, right down to your abdomen. 

Your eyes, wide and unblinking, stared into Tup's as the colour red flushed his cheeks once more. His eyes searched yours, a worried glint dancing across as he waited for your reaction. His lips stuttered as he was about to apologise, provide an excuse, tell you it was okay if you didn't want to continue. 

But the words fell short on his tongue as the corners of your lips tugged upwards, your hands applying the slightest bit more pressure to his sore muscles. 

A grunt was stiffled in his throat, his eye fighting hard to stay open, looking anywhere but at your face. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, give you the wrong idea-

None of his brothers did. 

Though a lump formed in his throat as Tup looked around the cave, noticing the numerous lingering gazes of his brothers as they sat there, watching your movements. He could almost feel the jealousy vibrating off of Rex in waves, his gaze hardened as the corners of his lips fought to stay straight. 

A smirk tugged at Tup's lips, as he noticed Jesse squint his eyes at him. Deciding to add fuel to the fire, Tup groaned again when your hands pressed against a particularly tense muscle in his shoulder. 

"Woah, General, where did you learn this?" He asked, a familiar warmth blooming in his abdomen as your nimble fingers danced across his shoulders, tugging at the black suit he wore, exposed now as his armour rested beside a sleeping bag nearby. 

"Oh, you know, just learned bits here and there when I was stationed with Commander Wolffe," You chuckled, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue, "That man was full of knots in his shoulders." You added, feeling Tup's shoulders relax more and more, until you had mentioned Wolffe. That's when his posture straightened, from a relaxed lean, to a pin-straight sitting up position. 

He tilted his head back to look at you, a curious yet worried glint in his golden eyes.

"Were you and Commander Wolffe close, by any chance?" He questioned, his breathing paused. 

If you were Wolffe's girl, then he knew the 501st couldn't, wouldn't pursue you. 

Or, if you weren't, then they knew at least they could ask the Commander of his previous.. Experiences, with you. 

Slowly, you caught onto Tup's drift, and your gaze travelled around the room. Some of the men were fully facing the two of you, legs spread, eyes laser-focused as they listened to your conversation, the cave suddenly, and eerily silent.

A shiver travelled down your spine, and a gentle smirk tugged at your lips.

"Oh, just you know, the occasional date here and there.." You said, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. Your smirk threatened to grow as you heard someone scoff, and you looked up to see Rex rolling his shoulders, a scowl on his face.

"Date? Isn't that, like, forbidden?" Fives questioned across from you, leaning over curiously, his eyebrows raised, resembling the blue markings on his helmet. 

A giggle escaped your lips as your hands returned to Tup's hair, suddenly remembering why you were giving him a random shoulder massage. You reached over to grab the blanket Rex had given you, placing soft curls between the two valleys of softness created by your hands, which were hidden underneath the soft cushion.

Your hands brushed through Tup's soft hair, gently dragging the strands through the dry, fuzzy material of your blanket. 

"I don't mean a romantic date, Fives, though I wouldn't be opposed to one." You mused, softly tugging at the locks. "I don't particulaly agree with the 'No Attachments' rule. But that doesn't make me less of a Jedi, or does it, do you think?" You questioned, your gaze softening, a small scowl now tugging at your lips. 

"Of course not, General," This time, it was Rex who spoke up, albeit too fast for his liking, "You're one of the most dedicated Jedi I've had the pleasure of working with," He stated, soft footsteps making their way closer and closer to you, "Plus, it is human to wish to form attachments." He whispered that last part, now standing directly above you as you twisted Tup's hair into the towel.

Your heart fluttered at the proximity, warmth enveloping your pinkening cheeks.

"Is it now, Rex?" You asked, looking up at him. Your heart palpitated at the close proximity, your hands gliding down to caress Tup's shoulders. Your gaze stayed unwavering, unbreaking as you looked into Rex's deep, honey-gold eyes. The Captain suddenly shifted, breaking eye contact as he stepped back a little. 

"I-I believe any of us s-should be able to form attachments," He paused, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, and back to your eyes, "Romantic ones, especially." A chorus of 'Yeah's' and humms of agreement followed, catching your attention as you looked around.

The atmosphere in the cave seemed to have completely shifted, the sound of howling wind drowned out underneath the loud beat of your heart. You swallowed a forming lump, looking between Rex and his brothers, Tup now stood by your side, sandwiching your body between his and Rex's. 

Gloved hands came up to softly caress your shoulders, fingertips lightly tugging at the edge of your collar, grazing the skin underneath. 

"What do you think, Commander?" He whispered into your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin.

"Of?" You prompted, turning your head lightly to look at Tup. 

"Of close relations between Jedi and their Clones?"

Your eyes widened, feeling a familiar heat rush over your body, and you took inhaled a slow, deep, shaky breath. As you looked between Tup and Rex, the latter had made his way closer to your body, his hands making their way to your hips.

The sound of soft footsteps reached your ears, and you saw Echo, Fives, Jesse, Kix, Dogma and Hardcase making their way closer to the three of you, looking completely entranced by the conversation. You hadn't casted any spells on them, have you?

Your breath hitched in your throat, shivers overtaking your body as someone nuzzled their nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, exhaling with a shaky sigh. As they spoke, your heart fluttered with recognition. 

"General, answer the question." Fives whispered, his voice gravelly and deep, one gloved hand gently grasping your chin, twisting it to face him. His gaze flickered to your lips,  just mere inches from his own. He could almost feel the taste of you on his tongue. Oh how he wished to kiss you, right then and there. He was so sure you'd let him, too.

Sure, maybe you did fantasise about the men from time to time, when your thoughts weren't preoccupied by ongoing battles and Jedi duties. How you wished to be allowed to form a connection deeper than General and Trooper, but did they?

"I- I.. I don't k-know?" You questioned, a soft whimper escaping your opened mouth, before you knew it, his lips crashed against yours, his hands latching themselves into your hair, pulling you closer, if physically possible.

The kiss was, to simply put it, sweet. His goatee rubbed nicely against your chin, his lips melting together with yours, as if they were always meant to. His tongue prodded at your bottom lip, asking for permission. Slipping in, it danced with yours, hot breaths mingling together as you felt something press up against your front.

Rex.

You had almost forgotten you were trapped between Rex and Tup, too engulfed with the sudden kiss Fives had engaged you in.

The smell of pine and smoke invaded your nostrils, their scents overwhelming, flooding your senses as Fives became rougher, his hands tugging at the roots of your hair. With one hand, you grasped the side of his face, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his rough skin, your breath hitched as a groan escaped his lips.

"Okay, that's enough I think." Kix spoke, the kiss abruptly interrupted as he pulled Fives away by the scruff of his neck. 

"General? Are you okay?" Rex's voice was soft as he neared you, his breath fanning over the sensitive shell of your ear. 

Inhaling a shallow breath, you grasped his biceps with both hands.

"Call me Y/n.." You whispered, hazily meeting Rex's stare, his eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

"R-Right.. Y/n, d'you want us to continue?" He questioned, bringing a hand to gently clutch your chin. 

Your eyes widened as you took in the situation around you; eight men surrounded you, watching. Waiting. Ready to pounce, the moment they received your permission. 

And receive it, they did.

With a brisk nod, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut as Rex closed the gap between the two of you, his lips rough but warm as his body pushed roughly against yours, your back meeting Tup's chest in a close embrace. 

Your hands rested against Rex's chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt underneath your thumbs. His chest was warm and firm under your touch, the feeling of his heart racing beneath your hand had your own chest swelling with joy. A sigh left your lips as you felt a pair of lips press open-mouthed kisses against the expanse of your neck, a new pair of hands rubbing up and down your hips, encouraging you.

You weren't dreaming, were you? You weren't about to wake up, were you?

Your questions were answered as you felt Rex bite your bottom lip, his hands tugging at the roots of your hair.

No, this definitely wasn't a dream.

And if it was, it wasn't one you wished to wake from.

[stealthetrees]

I am impatient and not actually finished with it but whatever. I tried to write Fox angst but angst is hard and why make it sad when it can be funny.

The others POV would be sad but the Guard just want Fox to stop being a dumb ass.

When Fox woke up, it was to the sound of children arguing. But that’s not his problem. They were grown adults and could solve problems by themselves. Or Thorn would deal with it.

Fox rolled over and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, after what felt like only a few minutes, the kids were still arguing, but much louder now. Fox blinked his eyes open and tried to focus on what was now apparently his problem.

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! I don’t believe you!”

“Well that’s too bad cause is the truth whether you like it or not!”

“There is no way in hell he’s the youngest!”

God damn it, that wasn’t one of his kids, that’s his medic.

“You weren't even there how would you know!?!”

And that was… Wolffe?

“Well then how is he so much cooler than you?”

“What?”

“If Fox is younger than why did he kill multiple sith when you got your ass kicked by Ventress of all people? Explain that dick head.”

“What do you mean he killed multiple sith?!?”

Well that’s a perfect time to intervene if any, because everyone Fox worked with knew about the feud with Darth Maul, and anyone who didn’t was not going to like the circumstances of his little nap.

Unfortunately, there were circumstances to his current predicament. Sitting up too quickly, Fox nearly passed out again when his vision went black and his ears filled with static. Several arms grabbed him to make sure he didn’t collapse.

Fox breathed deep, trying to stay conscious and not throw up as his vision cleared. He didn’t recognize the room he was in, but he did recognize the people so it was probably fine.

Copper, the Guard’s head medic, was holding Fox’s shoulders while glaring at Wolffe, who stood on the other side of the bed, having let go of Fox because of the intense glare. Ponds, Bly, and Cody filled the rest of the room while Sparrow, still in full armor and fresh off patrol, was crouched in the corner looking like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

“Are y’all gonna sort out yer problems like adults or am I gonna have to deal with your bullshit?”

Copper had the decency to look a little embarrassed while his batch mates avoided his gaze.

“That’s what I thought,” said Fox, nodding. “Now where the hell are we?” He pushed his brothers off him.

“The Jedi temple,” said Wolffe, dropping into the chair beside the bed.

“Those… guys found you in the Chancellor's office and freaked out. Dragged you all the way here. I got pulled into this mess cause they kept asking questions about yer medical history,” Copper said, wisely replacing whatever he was going to call them.

“Do you remember what happened? We found you on the floor of the Chancellor’s office awake but unresponsive,” Bly asked.

“Well, one minute I was working in the safe in the chancellor's desk the next thing I know I’m back on Corellia strapped to a table while some guy peels the skin off my arm. It was crazy,” said Fox, scratching the back of his neck.

That was the wrong thing to say. The uproar that followed his words brought the wrath of a Jedi healer down upon all of them, and after many threats of banishment from the room, everyone quieted down.

“Just an undercover job that went bad. It’s not a big deal, exept when the mind fuck thing happens,” Fox explained.

“What is the mind fuck thing?” cried Bly.

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal?” demanded Ponds.

“When a sith makes you relive your worst moments, like with the force or something,” explained Sparrow while everyone talked over him.

“Look, y’all fight sith way more than I do, you’ve probably had it worse,” said Fox, trying to divert their attention away from how he lost his arm.

“No? We don’t?? We fight droids???” Cody’s voice climbed in pitch as he edged towards hysteria. Wolffe buried his face in his hands.

“No offense, but I doubt your batch goes looking for Sith Lords to antagonize,” said Copper.

“I do not go looking for anything! Sidious just likes torturing me,” Fox shot back, causing more dismay from his brothers.

“I don’t think breaking into his ‘secret’ lair and trying to kill him in his bed count,” called Sparrow. Little fucker was always ready to gang up on Fox. How the medics had won him over was a mystery.

“And you said you were trying to get into the safe with the contract, so it’s no wonder Sidious tried to off you,” said Copper dismissively. “Honestly, I’m on his side for this one. Sith Lord or not the old fuck is entirely within his right to fuck you up.”

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Wrapped In Red [Commander Fox x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: When a long-time friend of yours in the Galactic Senate invited you to one of the upcoming galas, you envisioned a night of lavish apparel, drinking, dancing, and dodging the attempts of too-friendly senators. Added security had not been a part of it, but it’s non-negotiable following an attempt on your friend’s life. Fortunately, you can make the best of a bad situation by making friends with your bodyguards — Clone troopers of the Coruscant Guard, including Marshal Commander Fox himself.  Second Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader, save for the color of her dress and accessories. Reader is the friend of an unspecified senator nicknamed “Aspen”. Political assassination attempt [off-screen, more focus is on the aftermath]. Brief reference of a riot and (civilian) violence against Clones. Elements of the ‘Lady/Knight’ or ‘Bodyguard Crush’ dynamics. Forced proximity. Reference and allusion to alcohol. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Some use of Mando'a. Prompt is highlighted in red. Requested by @returnofthepineapple from her previous account. 

Word Count: 10,817

For the past couple of years, you’ve been living a quiet life on one of Coruscant’s neighboring planets. Though you were born there, the hustle and bustle of Coruscant proved more than you could handle as you grew older. You longed for some place less choked by pollution, politics and power-mad bastards. 

So, just before the outbreak of the Clone Wars, you spread your wings and left the labyrinth-like nest. 

People dear to your heart still lived there, so you never left Coruscant completely behind you. 

One such person—a childhood friend—you’ve managed to remain quite close with in spite of your relocation, and their involvement in the Galactic Senate. Rising through the upper echelons in the political scene to make it into a senatorial position had taken time, but the friend you knew best as Aspen had never been the type who could be easily swayed from their goals, or their sense in doing the right thing. 

Thinking of you often, Aspen liked to send you invitations to some of the millions of events taking place on Coruscant at any given time. Mostly small things, like seasonal markets or something related to various hobbies and interests. 

“A certain someone I know would love the concert they're holding in the entertainment district this coming Zhellday!”

“Blast… I’m going to be busy that day! But you’re the best, Aspen.”

On rare occasions, the invitations Aspen gave you were to much bigger things than crafting workshops or concerts. 

The most recent of these larger invitations is to an upcoming gala being held at the very end of the month, meant to cap off the long proposal period of very important—yet divisive—bills and other legislation to the Republic. You knew from past experience this would be a very, very long month for Aspen with no shortage of headaches. They were probably ready to beg you to attend the gala if it came down to it. 

It took only a short moment of thought before coming to a decision upon receiving the electronic invite; hoping to surprise them with good news, a message was left with a member of their senatorial staff. 

Hey, Aspen, just thought I’d let you know I got your invitation to the upcoming gala. I know you’re busy, so you don’t need to convince me to attend. I’d be happy to come and see you. The gala sounds like fun. Already looking forward to it! 

You’ve attended a few parties with Aspen in the past, but you can’t recall one of this scale or importance. There were the small fundraisers where you ate so many jogan fruit tarts together you were nearly sick. Promotional campaigns where bets were made on how many flutes of champagne Aspen’s competitors would end up sucking back before the end of the night. Public appearances where you stood beside (or in place of) your childhood friend’s family to support and celebrate the hard work they’ve put into the planet you called home for a long, long time. 

Making the kind of differences Aspen hoped for in the galaxy would often be an uphill battle. You’ve regularly joked it was a good thing that they’ve always been a fan of climbing in all the time you knew them. 

By the time you made it to Coruscant, less than a week before the gala, you were faced with the horrible discovery of just how close Aspen had come to falling from those lofty heights.

You’re planet-side for all of five minutes—busy wrestling your things together in the spaceport terminal—before you find yourself face-to-helmet with a pair of white-armored men. By the way they had begun marching in the direction of the baggage claim from the moment you got there and the deliberateness of their stride, you had the feeling they were not simply on patrol. 

These soldiers—Clones—part of the Coruscant Guard, judging by the red paintwork, had been waiting for you.  

The rest of your luggage continued to sit on the revolving conveyor belt as you spoke with the shocktroopers for the next few minutes, trying to figure out what was going on in spite of the travel-fatigue. Anyone who’s spent a significant amount of time on Coruscant has seen more than their fair share of regular commuters and far-away travelers getting stopped by terminal security forces, so that in itself is not out of the ordinary. 

Getting stopped by members of the Guard, those who dealt with riots and political escorts… That was more unusual. It meant whatever was going on was pretty karkin’ serious. (You’re not in trouble, are you?) Comply. Be polite. They don’t sound angry yet when they start asking basic questions to confirm your identity. 

Starting with your name and date of birth, one of the troopers brings up his datapad clipped to his utility belt to verify your answers against information in their database. The other silently gathers the rest of your baggage from the carousel the next time it comes around, preventing some petty criminal from getting their hands on whatever's inside. Between giving the troopers the requested information, a million thoughts race all at once while wondering whether or not you’ll be asked to come with them soon enough. Unless the Corries are hurting for work so badly that they’re now working spaceport security, whatever this is about is undoubtedly serious. 

In a shaken voice, you try to find answers once there is a suitable lull in the questioning.

“Can I ask what this is about…? Am I in trouble?”

The trooper with the datapad in his hand turns to the other, saying nothing, but raises his shoulders and gestures with his free hand as if to say “How much do you think we can tell her?” to his partner. You grow all the more nervous as the silent exchange continues, the partner shaking his head at the first. 

“Not here.” the second trooper says, his head wagging sharply to suggest it isn’t a good idea. 

The first makes a hurried promise before he’s interrupted by the second. “You’re not in trouble-” 

“But you’re not safe, either. We can explain more once you’re about the gunship. We need to ask you to come with us.” (Gunship? Safe? Oh fuck.) The same trooper, nodding to a bag by your feet now says “Sayber, take the duffle bag. I’ve got the suitcase.” before instructing you to follow them. 

Struggling to match their militant stride, you want to do little more than shrink out of discomfort feeling hundreds of eyes trained on you as you march back the way the shocktroopers came through the crowded spaceport. Doing your best to ignore all the many faces glittering with curiosity, you instead focus on the LAAT/i emblazoned with the crest of the Guard lazily bobbing in place as it hovers over a part of the terminal’s platform. 

Aside from the pilot, there are three more soldiers. Two are waiting in the craft itself; another waits on the ground, hands planted firmly on each hip. 

He must be who Sayber and the second, nameless Clone now walking beside you report to, judging by the stance and differences in his armor. On his helmet, you see stylized wings painted above a black visor guard, framing the visor itself. Two ‘capes’ of flexible armor hung from his utility belt, swaying in the downdraft of the ship just behind him, and the left shoulder armor has an antenna of some kind. 

If you had to guess his rank, he’s either a captain or commander. “That didn’t take long at all.” he calls to his soldiers, tone neither impressed or surprised. “Have you and Naran verified she’s who we were sent to retrieve?”

“Yes, Commander Thorn. She matches the descriptions we were given.” Sayber, the trooper on your right, replies confidently. 

All the same, he and Naran show their superior the datapad, allowing him to look at the information for himself. Confirmed with the commander, you’re given the go-ahead to board. Naran and Sayber board first, one securing your luggage while the other helps you into the gunship. 

As soon as you’re aboard, the commander orders the blast shields closed. The sound of which makes you wince, but being so on-edge, you’re grateful for the feeling of extra security it brings soon after. As you’re being shown an overhead handrail to use in case the inertial compensator isn’t enough to keep you from being wobblier than a newborn bantha, you’re advised not to lock your knees once the military repulsorcraft takes off. 

“Flight shouldn’t be too long, but, because even the most routine escorts have surprises we have to ask: do you get airsick, ma’am?” Having met them just a short time ago, you can’t yet tell Naran and Sayber apart, but you’re pretty sure this is Naran who’s rooting through the on-board medical kit for something. 

“O-oh, I-”

Your hesitation and the commander’s interruption is enough for one of them to toss an airsick bag your way, just in case. “Nothing routine about this escort, boys. We’re gonna be wrapped in red tape for a while, so we should start getting used to it.” The pilot is signaled to take off from the spaceport and begin making his way to a coded location a few moments later. 

The word ‘escort’ is nothing unfamiliar to you, having gone through this song and dance one of the last times you came to support Aspen’s senatorial workings. But red tape creates enough dread to ice over your veins before it begins pooling hot and sour in your guts. 

“C-can I ask what’s going on now?” 

What’s happened that’s made all of this a necessity?

Naran, remembering the promise he made back at the terminal, begins to carefully explain the situation with a slight halt in his voice. Each word is chosen carefully, like perhaps he’s unsure just how much he can say, or how you might react. 

“Someone—we’re not sure who—tried to end your friend Senator Aspen’s life shortly before you got to Coruscant… They’re shaken, but ultimately unharmed. We were asked to bring you to the same secure location by one of the other commanders.” 

The remainder of your flight aboard the gunship goes by without another word. The troopers know this is difficult information to process, and you can’t think of a single thing to say about any of it. It’s hard to be afforded a moment of silence to reflect on any of this with the guttural drone of the engine eating up any sound below a stage whisper, but the soldiers around you do their best. It’s a small act of kindness to you. 

Until you step off the gunship, this will be your last opportunity to have any kind of time to yourself before you’ll be so caught up in red tape you would practically be wearing the stuff.

Upon arrival, Sayber and Naran once again wrangle your luggage for you to speed up the process of disembarking. 

The less hindrances you had the better. You needed to see Aspen. And Aspen needed to see you. Having a friendly face by your side made confronting calamity a little more bearable, someone wise once told you. (Or, maybe you read that somewhere on the holonet…) In this state of heightened adrenaline, thoughts become muddled and disjointed as Commander Thorn ushers you past several armed security guards down a long hall. 

You can only imagine your friend will be in a far worse state. 

“Senator Aspen is in here,” Commander Thorn explains, stopping in front of a modified blastdoor. “The two of you will be kept here until a security detail has been finalized.”

“That’s fine… Thank you, Commander Thorn.”

Commander Thorn wastes no time, waving you in ahead of him once he’s completed keying in the clearance code. Inside, you find your friend crumpled into a low multi-seater, face in their hands as the person seated on the other end of the couch appears to be explaining something either to them, or to the other armed guards posted in the corners of the panic room.�� 

From the armor kit, you know the man is another Clone like Sayber, Naran and Commander Thorn with a singular glance. But you’re less concerned with who he is right at this moment, never having been more relieved to see your friend than you are right now. 

“Once she’s here, I would like everyone to-”

“Aspen!”

The other Clone immediately falls silent as Aspen gets on their feet in a flash, all but vaulting over the caf-table in order to meet you half-way. Mutually crushing the air out of the other’s lungs in the strength of your embrace, neither of you can properly express just how grateful you are to see the other. Jumbled, rapid words give way to tears seeping into one another’s shoulders before long, so occupied with comforting each other that no attention is paid to the troopers being swapped out with Naran and Sayber once they have brought in your belongings. 

In a tight, choked voice your friend begins apologizing to you once they’re calm enough to speak. “I’m so sorry that we had to meet like… like this… but it’s so, so good to see you.” Pulling away, you get a better look at their face for the first time and your heart clenches painfully. They look so scared. So deeply shaken. Yet here they are, apologizing to you for something that’s hardly their fault. 

“Had to be the longest hour of my life, waiting here with the Commander for you to get to Coruscant…” Aspen continues, taking your hand to guide you to sit beside them on the multi-seater where it would be more comfortable than standing. “I wanted to talk to you. So badly. Just to hear your voice and find a little solace after- After everything.”

“I’m guessing you couldn’t?”

Your friend shakes their head no. “Not exactly. We weren’t sure if it would be safe to. I’m sor-”

It’s you who shakes their head this time before explaining why a second apology is not necessary. “Hey. I understand. The important thing was trying to keep you safe after you were almost… hurt. Or worse.” The simple fact your friend was unharmed—still living and breathing in front of you—was an incredible blessing.

“Your friend sounds like a smart woman, Senator Aspen.” 

Reminded of his presence after you’ve been paid a compliment, your friend quickly begins the process of trying to compose themself in order to begin proper introductions. “Y-yes, she very much is… Commander, this is my very dear friend I was trying to tell you about earlier when explaining who your men needed to find.” The second Commander nods in polite greeting, refraining from saying anything until introductions have been finished. 

“And this, my dear friend,” Aspen says in a well-practiced this-is-important tone of voice, “is Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. I believe he’s been tasked with security after what nearly happened.”

At this point, Commander Fox has gotten to his feet and taken a look at something on Commander Thorn’s datapad before consulting his own. “That would be correct, Senator.” Holding himself with purpose, this second commander standing beside Thorn differs from him in more ways than just the color-inversion of his chest armor, and the additional Corrie Crimson on his armor alone. “I am here by order of the Chancellor to create a strong security detail for you, and your friend, in light of the attempt on your life almost an hour ago.” His voice, while not too different from the Clones you’ve met today thus far, had strong tonal qualities of duty and seriousness that commanded a great deal of attention from everyone in the room. 

You’ll ask about “that” detail in just a moment. Right now, you’re more surprised there’s no fear or unease when he says he’s here to enact the Chancellor’s will. This comes naturally to him.

“Sorry, I just want to make sure I heard you correctly: you said by order of the Chancellor?”

Nodding stiffly, Commander Fox confirms his orders. “Yes ma’am. As the Marshal Commander, I’ve been asked by Chancellor Palpatine to personally ensure your safety at all times until it is no longer deemed necessary. While he understands the upcoming gala expects to see many high-profile guests, he was rather disturbed to hear what had nearly happened to Senator Aspen, and insisted upon a constant security presence.” 

“I may or may not have tried politely refusing the Chancellor’s offer.” Aspen explains to you, chuckling somewhat shamefully. “And he was right to insist upon my refusal; it was fifteen minutes after the attack and I certainly wasn’t thinking clearly… I… Well, I think Commander Fox or Thorn has the pictures.” 

Nodding less stiffly than before, Commander Fox takes one of the datapads and shows you a collection of the holo-stills and frames taken from nearby security feeds of the destruction left by the attack. While you look at the horrible state of Aspen’s senatorial office, the main window broken with thick shards of transparisteel strewn across the floor, your friend explains that they managed to escape the attack unharmed by sheer, dumb luck. 

“I survived because I tripped, if you can believe it.” 

Blaster marks have burned the back of Aspen’s chair and several spots in the floor. The main desk, made from a much heavier, more-solid material, is riddled with blaster burn in comparison. While you’re not an expert by any means, the window pane’s shatter pattern suggests that the weapon used by the would-be assassin was likely high-powered, or of uncommon caliber. 

“It was just a split second before the first shot. After that, I hid in front of the desk as best as I could until members of the Coruscant Guard showed up. All that Corrie Crimson surging into my office must have scared them off because the firing stopped almost as soon as the Guard got there.”

Dumb luck. Dumb luck saved your friend before the Corries came to protect them. 

Facing the whole emotional gamut as you view these stills, Commander Fox puts the datapad away the very second you cannot stand to see more, shaking your head no, no, no. 

Outrage and disgust blooms in your chest, acidic and bitter-hot. You had too many questions to ask all at once. Crime scene analysts had cordoned off Aspen’s office, currently combing over everything for the most minute of clues. Would they be able to figure out who could have possibly wanted to kill your friend? Did anyone see who it was before they got away?

What was the motivation?

Uncertain of the answers to the other questions, Aspen could only offer partial answers as to ‘why’ someone might have tried to kill them with much hand-wringing. 

On one of the planets the Republic has been hoping to change the neutrality status of, there had been a riot almost a month ago now that’s still so tightly wrapped up in red tape largely in efforts to keep details away from the press while investigations are still on-going. Because of that, Aspen can’t say who they believe started the riot, or for what reason. But they can tell you that several Clones were nearly beaten to death as a result, and the rioters responsible have been charged with destruction of government property for the time being. 

Aspen was spearheading an effort to re-file those charges under a different crime that they believe more accurately reflects the rioters’ intentions that day. Attempted murder. While the effort has seen a lot of support in the Chambers, there are a fair number of senators still dragging their feet on making a decision. 

A small handful of influential senators have had a far less positive reception to this effort the longer Aspen has encouraged these changes. Matters that were becoming complicated when some of them were beginning to react in ways that suggested hostility have now become even more complicated with the introduction of a botched assassination. 

Planning for the gala has gotten a whole lot more complicated as well. If it’s even going to happen at all…

“Did the Chancellor say anything about cancelling the gala at the end of the week?”

“Too many high-profile guests coming from across the galaxy to change anything at this point, I imagine. Some of them have been making preparations for half a year, or more.” Aspen explains, fruitlessly massaging their temples over the thought of it. “Great galaxies, I do not envy whoever is in charge of organizing security for that mess…” 

Commander Thorn politely clears his throat. “Will likely be me, now that Commander Fox is overseeing your security, Senator.” He quickly adds, “Or, it could be Commander Thire. We’ll get it sorted.” after sharing a fleeting glance with his fellow commander. 

Aspen winces sympathetically. 

“I’m so sorry…” 

“Don’t be, Senator.” Commander Thorn says. When he speaks again, his voice is a little softer than before, careful sympathy lacing every spoken word. “We’re sorry that your plans to get ready for the gala are going to have to be changed.”  

“How soon will that be?” Aspen wonders.

“Once Commander Fox has your security detail finalized.” 

Your friend makes a low sound in their throat, smiling grimly. “Very soon then, I imagine… May I ask what we can expect, Commander Fox?” 

In a calm and deliberate voice, Commander Fox explains that as investigations are being conducted, he and other members of the Guard are going to be accompanying the two of you everywhere leading up to the gala. They’ll be your security as well as your escort force; you’re going to be spending a lot of time under their watchful eyes and ready hands.

So if there are any reservations, now is the time to say something. 

You look to your friend and make a quiet offer after considering the Commander’s words. “You’re the one who invited me here, so I’ll follow your lead, Aspen.” You’ve known each other long enough to trust their judgement. If it was decided it would be safest for you to go home, then you would take a rain check on this visit and come back to Coruscant another time. 

While you’re prepared not to create more trouble for everyone, Aspen’s selfless nature rears its sweet head even in the wake of an attack. Turning to Commander Fox, who stands straight-backed as he is patiently awaiting a verdict before the two of you, your friend asks one final question of him. 

“I know plans will change, but will the security detail mean I can still help my friend prepare for the gala, Commander?”

Commander Fox takes less than a moment to think before deciding that would be a reasonable use of the service. “If that’s what you wish, Senator.” He nods politely not only to Aspen, but to you as well, you notice. A small gesture of professionalism, as well as respect. 

“Then we accept.” Aspen says, sealing your shared fate for the rest of the week leading up to the gala.

Though the two of you have only just met, the feeling that you’ll come to like this man has already begun to spark.

From the moment Commander Fox put the security detail into action, you decided for yourself that you would make the most of this situation and make conscientious efforts to get to know everyone making up this task force better going forward. Not only would it be polite, but it would make it easier to remain in close-quarters with these men for a long period of time when they were no longer strangers. 

The full team consisted of two parts: Clones who had been hand-picked to be stationed with Commander Fox full-time, and those who would be rotating through the force on an as-needed basis. That meant there would likely be more than a few soldiers you would get to know very well by the end of the team’s lifespan. 

Maybe even become friends. 

Already, you and your friend were making great progress getting to know Naran and Sayber in particular. These two soldiers—who were part of the permanent assignment—are not merely patrol partners like you had initially assumed when you first met them. They explained they were batchmates, meaning they had been created and trained together at the same time on the world known as Kamino, out in Wild Space. 

Naran and Sayber completed their training six months ago; stationed on Coruscant for five. It explains why their armor looks so new, and why the paint lacks much chipping, fading or transferring. They’re young, and have only begun breaking it in. There’s a term Clones like to use that pretty much means the same thing as “rookie”. 

“We’re not exactly a couple of ‘Shinies’ anymore, but we’re still fairly inexperienced compared to other brothers in the Guard… I’m not exactly sure why Commander Fox assigned us permanently.” Sayber confesses to you in a moment of quiet. 

Commanders Fox and Thorn are busy, following protocol to secure the room where you and Aspen will be sleeping; the batchmates are supposed to be focused on keeping their eyes on the two of you in the meantime, but Sayber’s curiosity is stronger than his worry over being “caught” bothering you by his superiors. 

Something that Naran quietly fumes with frustration about. (“You’re going to get yourself in trouble, di’kut…”) He much prefers to stay on task and engage only when addressed. It might take more time before he opens up to the two of you compared to his brother and patrol partner, who happily does more than enough talking for the two of them. 

You can expect to meet more of the Guard starting tomorrow; the rest of the day will likely be focused on getting the two of you settled in before any of the pre-gala preparations and errands can be conducted. Some will have to be done separately. Others can be done together, such as the shopping for a dress (on Aspen’s insistence), given that they are performed during set hours. 

And they will always involve an escort of no less than two troopers. 

You will not be permitted to wander around Coruscant, alone, at any given time. 

“Dammit. Sounds like getting some Hyellian musical noodles around two in the morning is out of the question, then.” you remark softly in jest during the first review of the safety plan once the Commanders have completed their protocol, shrugging animatedly in an oh well fashion. Won’t be the end of the galaxy. 

His review disrupted, Commander Fox’s dark T-shaped visor lifts from the screen and fixes itself upon you, quietly regarding you over the top of the datapad in his free hand. 

The thought that you just karked up strikes you in an instant. 

Thinking you’re being serious, Fox speaks seriously in turn. “I was unaware this was something I needed to account for. Forgive me, ma’am.” Your hammering heart skips a beat rather uncomfortably as he begins to pull up the keyboard on the device’s HUD, and your face grows hot with embarrassment. 

“No, I-! I was only making a joke. I’m sorry, Commander, I shouldn’t have.” 

Asking him to accommodate a silly little tradition of yours every time you made the trip to Triple Zero would create more work for everyone. Taking unnecessary risks. It would be selfish. 

Fortunately, you won’t have to worry about making fewer jokes just because Commander Fox has a stronger no-nonsense personality than you might be accustomed to for very long. Members of his own Guard have a way of softening the tension to keep things from getting quite so abrasive. 

“Grizzer and I could always make that run for you, ma’am.” There to listen in on the review, the ARF trooper that was assigned to guard the perimeter of the ‘safe house’ by the name of Sergeant Hound drops the lead to the massiff in question after issuing a command word. “Su!” The quadrupedal reptilian settles on their hindquarters, long tongue lolling between dagger-sharp teeth. 

“It’ll help her earn a turbodog once this is all said and done. Tradition of ours, for the big jobs.” 

Maker: it will take some getting used to being called or considered part of a “big job” like this. 

After a long moment, you decide to accept. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” Since he was kind enough to offer, you make sure to give Hound an especially grateful nod. 

Commander Fox adds the offer to the approved actions he’s compiled once the exchange has finished, and moves swiftly on. There has been a lot of ground covered, and he intends to cover more before someone will be sent to collect that night’s dinner order. It’s evident enough that he’s a serious and hard-working man. He would have to be, seeing as he’s the Marshal Commander appointed to lead the Coruscant Guard. so…

So it comes as little surprise that any offer or invitation for a breather, a single moment off his feet has been turned down time and time again as the afternoon bleeds into the evening. Even in the securest of spaces, Commander Fox turns down reprieve and refreshment with the same four words. 

“No thank you,” either followed by Senator or ma’am. 

Your kindness refuses to falter in the face of his stoicism, but you’re smart enough to recognize when to let it go at the same time. 

“Okay. May I offer it to Naran and Sayber instead, then?”

Dinner had been sourced from 79’s in the entertainment district; largely finger foods made in outrageous portion sizes, meant to be shared between large groups. Aspen had ordered a slider for each of you, and a basket of protato wedges to share. There had been a slight mix-up, and the two of you ended up with a third slider and more than double the wedges that you could possibly hope to eat by yourselves. Trying to sort out the error was met with the offer to go ahead and keep the food as they were pretty slammed tonight. 

“If you wish, ma’am.” Fox replies, voice as politely disinterested as before. “I’m certain they won’t object.” 

True to form, the batchmates eagerly unseal their helmets before gratefully accepting the offered food, granted unspoken permission by their commander. It’s the first time you see any of the Clones’ faces since the start of all this unfortunate excitement. “Thank you, sir. And thank you ma’am!” Sayber exclaims. His broad grin brings out a dimple in the tanned left cheek, adding to how he looks far, far too young for this armor. 

He and Naran carry the food to the only other table in the room in order to eat, wasting no time in coming up with a way to halve the slider and wedges between them. While his men eat, Commander Fox discreetly consults the datapad he has clipped to the utility belt from which his dark kama hangs. What he’s reading is a mystery, but you could probably assume it had to do with either you, Aspen, or his shocktroopers. Maybe it was the safety plan and security detail for tomorrow. Maybe it was unrelated. 

Regardless, this seems to be the only sort of reprieve he allows himself. Once he’s finished, the tablet returns to the Commander’s hip and he reassumes position. 

His posture is meticulous, yet somehow almost elegant. Hands folded behind his back and chest high, the crimson commander does not budge so much as an inch from his post in the time it takes Naran and Sayber to put everything away. Only once they clean up and reseal their helmets will Commander Fox drop this extra rigidity. 

Fox’s earlier refusal now appears more purposeful than before when this time it is Naran who thanks you and his superior for the food. The shocktrooper’s words are met with a “Don’t mention it.” so softly spoken, it would be hard (but perhaps not impossible) to mistake it for a command. 

From this singular display of momentary tenderness, Fox has told you more about himself that he might realize: if you hope to have a better chance of befriending the commander, how his men are taken care of will likely be very important over the coming days.

Following that first night on Coruscant, you fell into a routine within a short couple of days. 

Waking up an hour (sometimes more) before Commander Fox arrived with the day’s security detail, you would quietly prepare for the day ahead of you just to have a small bit of time to yourself. Just you and Aspen. Together, you’d take this opportunity to have more intimate conversations without your second shadows in red and white armor present; to reflect on the days behind you.

And puzzle out a curious pattern beginning to develop… 

It was hardly surprising that there would be the most to say of Commander Fox out of all the Corries. You spent the most time with him. Not only was Fox the lynchpin to your collective safety, but the only time he was ever away from your side (save for using the ‘fresher) was to allow each of you to sleep for the night. 

He was by far the most reserved member of the Corries you’ve had the pleasure of meeting; the most aloof and strictly professional, all for good reason. Not only was he dealing with the Chancellor’s orders for a very serious situation, there was so much red tape for him to navigate through on a daily basis. It wouldn’t feel right to either of you to ask Commander Fox to behave in a more-friendly manner for the sake of protecting your own feelings. 

But more recently he was starting to become more warm with you, no longer just his soldiers. 

You’ve seen how he is with the younger soldiers in particular, like Naran and Sayber. Reminding them again and again to not tense their shoulders quite so much. Answering their many what-if questions. Encouraging the two of them to play a bit of holochess against you or the senator in his stead. 

Now Commander Fox was thanking you for your offers when turning down the invitation to take a short break or have something to eat. He was no longer passively listening to conversations you would have with the other Clones, but joining in on the rare occasion. You were no longer just ‘Senator Aspen’s friend’ or simply ‘ma’am’ when speaking of you, or being addressed. 

When Commander Fox began to use your name, that’s when things became a little more interesting. 

Aspen started to gently tease you after that, suspecting you were becoming somewhat charmed by the crimson commander. The gala was in two days. Your friend had promised to help you buy a formal dress here on Coruscant in order to save you luggage space. Neither of you certainly expected to have an audience, and Aspen wanted to make sure that you’d be okay with potentially being seen by Fox and a dozen or more Clones in a fancy dress or two.

Yes, the Guard was always, always very respectful of you both, but perhaps it might be a bit embarrassing. Or feel strange. Maybe you would feel self-conscious in front of Fox in particular… Something they promised was perfectly normal while you were busy getting ready together this morning as you waited for Fox and the Guard to arrive. 

“You’re saying that you think I have a crush on the commander?” 

You take a brief pause from tidying things on your side of the room, wondering whether or not you’d heard your friend correctly. Commander Fox was by and large what you might consider a “strong and silent” type of man, slow to let someone into their comfort zone, teasing the other person along inch by inch. Did Aspen really think that’s what was going on with you? That you were intrigued by some kind of thrilling mystery in interacting with someone like that?

“Well… Sort of.” Aspen admits with a soft laugh. “This kind of thing happens a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s Baby’s First Bodyguard, or you’re a seasoned professional when it comes to dealing with armed escorts. A lot of senators and diplomats tend to form some kind of feeling for the people who are there to protect them.”

You try to mask your doubt with a joking accusation. “Are you trying to feed me banthashit right now?” Is this truly as common as Aspen says it is, or are they trying to help you feel better in their typical selfless fashion? 

Sensing your doubt, Aspen promises they are telling the truth. “It really does happen all the time, sweetheart. It’s happened to me too! You know I wouldn’t lie about that. And you know I’m not going to judge you for feeling things for the commander, or possibly having a crush, either, right?” Before you can answer, you hear the sound of a distant LAAT/i, followed by several soldiers speaking at once. 

You’re going to have to wrap this up, quick. “Of course. I’ve known you for a long time, Aspen. I trust you.” They’ve always been a good friend to you; there’s never been a reason for doubt or distrust. 

Briskly getting up, Aspen helps you tidy and put away the last of your things not a moment too soon. Just as everything has been put away, Commander Fox makes himself known with four firm raps on the other side of the door. Here forty-five minutes exactly before the first of the boutiques is set to open, as discussed. 

The usual pleasantries are exchanged after Aspen has gone to answer the door. The ‘good morning’s and asking if the two of you slept well. Asking if there was anything either of you needed before joining the others back at the gunship and getting on your way. 

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you. Nice to see you, Commander.” 

Perhaps surprised by your choice of greeting, Commander Fox has a brief moment of pause before he’s able to reply. “You as well, ma’am. Very well. No need to inform our pilot of anything, then. We can be on our way.” Nearly positive you’re not imagining it, while still rather factual, there seems to be more warmth in Fox’s voice this morning. 

He’s still all-business, encouraging everyone not to waste any time getting to the gunship, but now his tone is less stern and terse compared to the days before. He almost sounds… friendlier. Maybe Fox just needed three days to thaw out before warming up to you. Could be that he’s in a good mood because his men are in a great one this morning, most of them comfortable enough around you by now to talk about last night’s boloball victory in whispers. 

Whatever the case may be, it makes you a little less nervous about the prospect of going shopping with such a large security detail. 

Commander Fox’s brightened demeanor hardly changes for anything. 

Even Sayber can’t ruin it by forgetting his training and speaking out with excitement while you and Aspen steadily shop around the first of the formal boutiques for a suitable dress. His reason for doing so was more than forgivable: right around the time you began reaching for a gown in a sort of pomegranate red, the young shocktrooper cried out “HAH! Eat your heart out, Police Inspector Dan Tivo! I knew the Corries would find a lead in the investigation before him!”, much to the disturbance of the other patrons. 

There would be much apologizing to do—Sayber for breaking protocol and to the shop for causing any additional inconveniences—before this would start to become the point where things really began looking up. 

The red tape would not yet loosen itself from you, but with any luck it should soon begin to lift.

Whether you believed it was a curious coincidence or not, you decided to go with the red gown you had been reaching for around the time news broke of the lead in the investigation. By cleverly pairing it with a few ivory accessories, you curated an overall image that would come close to matching with much of the Coruscant Guard. 

This way, you could quietly sort of “mark” the time spent in their company in the week leading up the gala without outright wearing any one Clone’s personal markings, or the iconography that belonged to both the Guard and the Senate. 

You also can’t pretend it was no small relief to have so many of these big decisions taken care of so quickly, or all at the same shop in a busy fashion district. What had been planned to take nearly all day was completed in the span of less than two hours. 

And the next two days went by in a feverish blur with Commander Fox working harder than ever to truly make sure your security at the formal event would be nothing less than ironclad. 

His men even claimed he was aiming to be better than beskar: creating plans for every possible situation and even going so far as to form redundancies. Mapping out where and when you would arrive at the gala venue. Choosing who would be watching over you and Aspen separately, and who would be watching both of you. How he can continue to take care of your needs. Until the time comes and the suspect behind the botched killing has been caught, Commander Fox has sworn to remain at your service, no matter how trivial the request. 

Or how foolish you feel to ask. 

With hours to go and anxieties rising, there are times that involving him in the hustle-and-bustle process of getting dressed up becomes simply unavoidable. With every instance, your gratitude for this man only continues to grow stronger than before. 

Dropped an earring under the dresser and it’s too far for you to reach? Naran and Sayber will need to lend him a hand, lifting the furniture aside so he can search for it on his hands and knees.

Hands shaking too much, and the clasp on your necklace giving you trouble? He’ll help you put it on - he only asks that you hold your hair out of the way for him. 

Turning over the string of delicate Castilon pearls, you move to stand in front of the commander. The most straight-forward way to secure the necklace will be to turn your back to Fox and allow him to fit it from behind. “Thank you, Commander. I can’t seem to get my nerves under control at the moment...” you explain, grateful he won’t see the soft flush breaking across your face as his dexterous fingers latch and unlatch the tiny set of claw clasps with relative ease. 

In his voice you hear the very same tenderness he imparts to the youngest of his brothers as he softly encourages you to relax. By the time you take a deep breath and count to five ‘battleship’s, he’ll have this taken care of. You’re going to be just fine. Ordinarily you would be, were it not for the electric ripple in your skin every time you feel the smooth material of his raven-dark gloves brush against you. 

Understanding the tensing under each feather-light touch is only a reflex, the Marshal Commander casually remarks that you’ll be hard-pressed to find a senator, dignitary or diplomat that isn’t a bit on edge or nervous about the gala. Fox says it in hopes of it serving to soothe you, rather than make you more nervous. 

“There you are,” he concludes once he’s finished securing the three-strand necklace. You allow him to check the matching earrings to make certain they won’t come loose for good measure. “I admit I may not be the best man when it comes to these kinds of things, but I give it my best effort.” 

Fetching your ivory clutch, you can at last turn to thank him once Commander Fox reports the ivory accessories are both secure. “Thank you, Commander. Fortunately I’m not looking for the very best, only a bit of help. I would say that it’s hardly a contest that you’ve been among the very best in providing an immense amount of help this week.” Your favorite pair of shocktroopers share in Aspen’s giggling amusement as Commander Fox maintains his professionalism rather than fully internalizing the compliment you’ve tried to pay him. 

“Thank you, ma’am: but I don’t believe I can take all the credit. My men have shown around-the-clock commitment to this assignment that I couldn’t be more proud of.” 

With a boisterous laugh, Sayber bravely advises his superior officer on what to say. “Now’s not the time to be all modest and humble, sir! No buts – just tell her thank you!” He’s close enough to still being considered a Shiny that Sayber can get away with speaking to a brother of higher ranking in a semi-teasing manner, and he knows it. 

Commander Fox knows it too. “You’re right, you’re right…” he relents, beginning to fix parts of his armor in a bid to stall for more time. Starting with the vambraces, he straightens them out like he’s adjusting a pair of cufflinks. “Thank you, ma’am. It is my hope that both you and Senator Aspen have felt nothing less than complete assurance in the security force I have tirelessly maintained.”

Finding it satisfactory, Sayber quickly concludes with “That’s better, sir!” after you and your friend confirm there have been no concerns in your armed escorts at any given point. 

There isn’t much time you can afford to waste, having to take alternative transport that would be kinder on any formalwear than a gunship. While helping you board the other transport, Naran politely comments on the care you’ve put into your appearance for tonight and offers his hope that you have a nice time. Doing so now just in case he doesn’t get a chance later. The same sentiment is then offered to Aspen as they are helped aboard after you. 

Fuck. You’re really gonna miss these guys when all of this is over. 

You’ll miss Naran and Sayber’s playful bickering, the way they shout “Ulyc, di’kut!” at each other when the other does something foolish. You’ll miss the pilots who have flown you over the more beautiful parts of the upper-city when there’s been time to kill; like Umate and Monument Plaza, even some of your old haunts from before. 

Miss the games of fetch with Grizzer to reward her for a good job, the meals that have been shared, and the stories of how these boys got their names. 

But most of all, you’ll miss the crimson commander.

It didn’t matter that he was rather aloof and distant. How he kept things almost strictly business. That he’s never once taken off his helmet in front of you. Only ever nodding, never showing you if his smile dimpled his left cheek like most of his brothers. Or that he never told you how he came by “Fox” for his name. Whether it had been one he claimed, or something he earned. 

Because that wouldn’t be what you’d miss Commander Fox for. 

You’d miss him for never drawing more attention to himself than he had to, shying from such spotlights in the interest of giving them to his brothers instead. Miss him for the unwavering politeness he’s had for you, treating you no differently than he would for another galactic senator, or even the Chancellor. 

All this security, all this red, had been the most reassuring feeling you’ve had all week. And it won’t be easy to say goodbye, to any of it. 

Or to Commander Fox. 

Between the sound of spirited chatter, ceaseless pop-and-chop of photographers’ camera shutters and lively, swelling music, entering the formal venue before the official start of the celebration proves easily-overwhelming near-instantaneously. 

Getting here early offers you time to acclimate. Elation and excitement should eventually find you, but there will be time to find somewhere to cool off, if necessary. It also serves as a chance for the Chancellor to visit with Aspen, hoping to speak and hear how they’ve been since Commander Fox had been appointed for protection, as well as to ask about his performance. 

The visit is kept brief, but your friend stresses the shared satisfaction you have in all Fox—and the rest of the Guard for that matter—has done for you before agreeing to speak more privately and at-length the following morning. The Chancellor is not here to detract from the hopeful enjoyment of the occasion for either of you; soon enough you are left free to enjoy the entertainment and pursue the available catering. 

It became apparent most of the music played tonight came from Naboo, much like the Chancellor - written by some of her people’s most respected and well-known composers. And much of the food was extravagant, tables showcasing what your own credits could never hope to see with plate after plate of hors d’oeuvres beyond your ability to even name. Same went for the drinks when you were unable to locate any cards or signage. 

The Commander quickly proves rather knowledgeable when you blindly select a sparkling crystal flute, scrutinizing the bubbling contents with a puzzling expression after it fails recognition by smell alone.  

“What’s this…?”

“Prized champagne provided by Pantora, ma’am. It’s recently proved rather popular.” Fox explains, hands moving from carefully held at his side to folded neatly behind his back as he approaches closer to the table. 

“And what about the tall and skinny glass, or the one with a short stem and large bowl?”

An erroneously-named Mantell mixer in the highball glass, supplied from a different planet in the Mid Rim. The snifter is a robust brandy reportedly of Wayyl origin. Commander Fox can only tell you what he’s heard when it comes to if they are any good, refraining from making any kind of decision for you or presuming what you would like. There are other drinks reported to be stationed throughout the venue, if none of them appear to be to your liking. If you would prefer something non-alcoholic, he knows where the sparkling cider can be found. 

You decide you’ll be starting off safe with the cider, for the time being. Less decision fatigue than coming up with an unfamiliar, strong drink to try. He again helps with identifying the human-suitable foods for you and Aspen to sample. That’s when you realize Fox is utilizing sensors and scanners built into his ‘bucket’ rather than strictly being knowledgeable upon a sharp pause in his explanation. 

“The cured meat is supposed to pair best with… no, wait. Damn artificial intelligence pulled up a recipe blog.” 

And rather than pressuring you to engage every instance, Aspen encourages you to go explore the venue instead of listening to them catch up with many of their fellow senators. Knowing who you’ll likely prefer for company (but might be too bashful to openly say), they give you their “blessing” to take Fox as your escort in the meantime. 

“Why don’t you go exploring for a while, dear friend? Just so I don’t bore you; I promise I’ll let you know if Senator Amidala or Chuchi are able to stop by before I catch up with you so you can decide if you want to say hello. I’ll ask Naran and Sayber to stay with me in the meantime. Perhaps the Marshal Commander can go with you… If he doesn’t mind?” 

The commander offers a cordial nod prior to replying. “Not at all, Senator Aspen.” He would be happy to, in fact. And though he will not be leading you, Fox is even offering to take you by the arm. 

You can attribute it to his work ethic and find it applicable etiquette for such a grand event. Considering there is both a chivalrous and protective tone to such a gesture, this is not a measure of control through the imbalance of a power dynamic. He is not here to dictate where you are permitted to go. 

Simply put, he’s here with no other intentions but to accompany you no matter where you go, and to comment as necessary as he listens to whatever you have to say. So when Commander Fox finds you quiet after some time, he surprises you by asking what’s on your mind. 

“Thought you would be making a small amount of commentary, ma’am. Something weighing on your thoughts?” 

Blinking in surprise, you chew over the thought of how honest you should be. “Well… there is something.” Unable to see through that impassible visor and faceplate, the hope of seeing this particular Clone’s face flickers anew. 

“S-someone…” comes the clarification. 

“Senator Aspen?” 

It’s less of a risk for him to hazard this guess, but it doesn’t make the mark. 

“No. No, not my friend.” 

After a pregnant pause, you confess that it’s him that weighs on your thoughts when he does not ask. “I can’t… I can’t get you out of my mind.” Your reasons are innumerable, and strange even to yourself. You’re not sure what explanation you can give Commander Fox that would likely not be found comforting, innocent or even sane. 

So you expect him to politely pull away. To put up walls of professionalism stronger than before. To kindly but firmly establish some boundaries. (Hell: it would hurt, but you could understand if he didn’t do it so kindly.) If you were slowly stoking the fires to a potential friendship, you might’ve just gone and done the one thing to completely stomp it out. 

And by hearing yourself say it, it sounds far more romantic than you might have intended it to. “Wait, sorry- I… I meant that very generally.” Attempting to clarify this now feels like a weak excuse to cover up that you’re backpedaling, but it’ll keep you up at night far longer if you don’t at least try. 

Commander Fox, surprisingly, does not suggest he is the least bit perturbed. Not by your admission. Not by your apology. Not even by the way you try to create distance from him yourself and begin to anxiously attempt to pull your arm free. 

An earnest “I believe you.” is all that is needed to stop you in your tracks. The gala, now well in full-swing, feels as though it is slowing down around the two of you as you feel very foolish – just staring at the red-armored commander. “I know what that sounded like. But I believe you.” he continues, now with insistence. 

“You-? You do?”

Starting with the soft use of your name, he again promises that he does - even going on to say why. 

“I’ve spent all week watching how you treat and interact with my brothers. Hearing how you speak to my men. And you’re always kind. You make honest efforts to remember their names and have a friendly word to say. Always expressing appropriate gratitude. All of it shows that you care about them, that you’re a good person.

“And good people are often honest people.” 

The work Commander Fox does for the Chancellor, the Senate, all of Coruscant… it’s thankless. What work he is thanked for is done with insincerity, often disingenuous and callous and empty. Senators like Aspen are a rarity. Ordinary people, people like you, are the most likely to thank him for his work outside of his bonds within the GAR. 

But you’re different even among ordinary people. You have truly meant your thanks each and every time he’s done what’s been asked of him. And you wouldn’t yet know it, but it has led to Commander Fox becoming so hopelessly wrapped around your little finger in the reddest thread in hopes of tasting such genuine kindness. Such a response couldn’t be conditioned or trained out of him. 

He may be a Clone, but he was not a perfect copy. Not of Jango Fett. Not of any of his brothers. It was part of that Factor H as described by Fett more than a decade ago to the Kaminoan cloners, likely before the commander’s own creation. 

‘H’ for ‘Human’. And humans… they have a base, instinctual need for forming connections with the people around them. It’s why isolation proves so detrimental. As a soldier, it was an unspoken expectation to simply not acknowledge those kinds of consequences to his formative years. 

Created in a high-tech petri dish. Decanted from a tube. Together forged by fire with a living sea of brothers. Getting planted on the singular-most crowded planet in this entire kriffing galaxy, where his failure to protect the heart of the Republic meant having to listen to more reports of dying vode. 

But tonight, he’s here, thinking of asking to dance in all of his blood-red armor with one of the most beautiful women at the gala. Having lost a complete sense of elapsing time, the two of you had been standing just on the inside to a respectably-sized dance floor when the venue appeared to be cueing up for either the first, or another of the largest shared dances. 

There’s no time to be coy about asking if you want to join your friend waiting off to the side, now that they and his shocktroopers have found the two of you. It appeared Aspen intended to have joined you, but it was now too late to step into the designated floorspace. There would still be time to step out. 

“Would you like to join your friend?” Fox politely offers. 

Historically, you and Aspen had platonically partaken in these duo-dances together owing to your closeness and long-stand friendship. Usually at some point during the night if Aspen was preoccupied with other senatorial attendees, but often at the first available opportunity. Dare you ask for another of their blessings to break a long-standing tradition?

“Aspen, I think I-”

“Go. There’ll be other dances!” Aspen urges, interrupting. They’re smiling, a promising sign you had worried for nothing. 

Hopeful, Commander Fox extends his hand out to you. A quiet offering. An implied invitation. If you’re going to accept, it has to be soon. “Another dance, then.” you promise to your friend, carefully trading off items like the ivory clutch in order to free up your hands. 

Naran suggests a crucial change before you can take the commander’s outstretched hand and join him further into the showfloor. 

“Sir! Your helmet!” 

“Right, right.”

This song with a famously long lead-in allows for the ordinarily simple unsealing and removal of the commander’s headgear to transform into something a bit more preformative, if rather hurried. With a polite doffing befitting of the high-class nature of the event, Fox removes the recently-polished helmet and allows you to see his face for the very first time since meeting earlier that week. It is then directly taken by Naran away from the dance floor, surrendered to his care and subsequently forgotten not long after. 

Following Fox, he leads you slightly deeper into the dancing crowd with a rhetorical “Shall we, ma’am?” where the two of you assume the appropriate starting position just before the lead-in concludes, and the dance number finally commences.

As a ballroom piece common to the Core Worlds, you’re given more than enough time to study the charming face of your dance partner as the two of you step through the poised and elegant choreography. 

While there is perhaps some truth to the erroneous adage “If you see one Clone’s face, you’ve seen them all!”, you are wholly committed to determining what little traits set him apart from his brothers while you have the chance. And kindly, the commander allows you to do so, encourages you to do so. 

“Do I look like you imagined?”

Mostly yes. But also, no. 

While he had the same round ala to his nose, there was faint scarring across the bridge you hadn’t yet seen in any of his brothers. (You would find others; one cutting into the arch of his right brow, and a freshly-pinked nick that tucked under his jaw on the left.) Fox’s eyes were the same, soulful brown; with an additional intensity that was hard to completely identify. A soft five-o-clock shadow along his jaw, now that you hadn’t expected. Or the touches of gray blending out in the dark waves and tight curls of his hair. 

You admit you’re starting to wish he’d taken off his helmet sooner, even though he was only doing his job… A long-suffering job that allowed you to even be here to begin with. If it wasn’t for him, your long visit home just to see Aspen would never have happened. Not the way it did. Without him, without the Guard, your friend would have asked you to take the first shuttle returning to your new home. 

You can’t even begin to fathom how you could possibly thank him enough for everything they’ve done to protect Aspen and get you to this point. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Fox pledges, both his voice and his smile tender. The dimpling in his left cheek is the most pronounced amongst any of the Guardsmen. A golden warmth that softens the watchful depths in his eyes. All of it brightens your heart with euphoria, pulse already keeping time to the soaring peaks of the strings’ music. 

When the song calls for those assuming the position of the dance’s “gentlemen” to pull their partner close, the Marshal Commander fits you so perfectly against his armor in order to make himself heard. 

His voice becomes softer—fonder—in the delicate shell of your ear. 

“But I know you’ll probably try...”

As the music begins the winding-down, Fox’s vambrace begins to squeal - an abrupt, demanding tone disrupting the pleasant, vulnerable moment between you. Needing to answer it, you assist him by depressing the instructed buttons after lowering the volume per his instructions. 

“CC-4477 to Commander Fox! We have the suspect behind Senator Aspen’s attempted assassination in our custody!” 

Fox does not reply right away, but rather he eyes the open comlink with a degree of great pride. But there is also great reluctance. After everything you’ve told him, after everything he’s told you, the long-shot he’s taken in asking to dance with you amidst all this formality and decorum, he has to leave now?

“Well done, Thire. Tell Commander Thorn-”

No. 

No, maybe just this once, he can get away with not answering a summons instantaneously. His duty may be to the Republic, but as a man of his honor his duty is also still to you. As of now, he is still charged with protecting you and the senator. It becomes socially acceptable to leave the gala without staining one’s reputation fifteen minutes from now, after these large, shared dances. His men can handle the suspect until then. 

Fox will not allow your standing to suffer now simply because of him. 

“Sir?”

“Tell Thorn I’m still wrapped up pretty tight here. Might take fifteen minutes to disentangle her and Senator Aspen from the gala. Maybe more.” Fox’s focused expression changes to one of warmth when the word “her” parts his lips, while his voice retains its authoritative tone. 

There’s a long silence on the other end of the comm before Thire comes up with a reply. 

“Understood, Commander. Thire out.”

Breathless and head light, you’re reeling with relief and elation that they’ve captured their suspect. This is the beginning of the end of Aspen’s nightmare. Your nightmare. But where there is joy, there too comes sorrow, knowing your time in Commander Fox’s company is coming to an end. Maybe not tonight, maybe not in the morning. But soon enough, you will part ways and return to your regular lives…

“I can’t believe they got the guy… Thank the stars, it’s finally over. If we need to leave so you can-”

“No, mesh’la,” Commander Fox interrupts you before his voice turns almost pleading. The song may now be over, but there is still music that can be danced to. Still time that he can spend with you. “Let me be a selfish man for once… Fifteen minutes is all I ask.”

Maybe fifteen minutes… can be a good place to start. 

Everything will still be there after fifteen minutes. The suspect, his men, the senator… but the clock will start to run out with you after fifteen minutes. And he’s not ready for that. 

“Okay. Fifteen minutes. We’ll… work out what comes after that.” 

When you’ve spent most of your service dealing with red tape, it’s going to take more than fifteen minutes to unwrap all of it. 

So you’ll make those minutes a very good place to start…

Thank you for making a request for my 200 follower event, Pina! Ended up longer than I initially anticipated even after everything I cut out of it, but I hope you enjoyed it! I apologize for the unexpected delays, so I hope this was well worth the extra time it took me to write it in order for you to read it! And in case anyone is curious why I chose the name "Aspen" for the name of our senator friend here, I took inspiration from the Greek word for shield, 'aspis'. I thought it felt fitting for a story focused around Fox working hard to protect even a complete stranger, being the dutiful and brave man he is. ❤️

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[eclec-tech]

🖤 Shiny spotted at GAR Goth Night! 🖤

Plus, someone seems to have left a rather interesting message in the ALT text for @wings-and-beskargam and @eobe's collaborative art of CT-9075. Interesting...

Want to know how a shiny in white ended up at 79's GAR Goth Night? Read his story below or the entire fic on AO3!

Ask any commander about shinies fresh from Kamino, and they’ll all say the same thing: The first thing they do is wear themselves out from excitement.

That was certainly true of the latest batch of newbies who had just landed on Coruscant this evening. Every one of them left Wild Space with enough adrenaline in his veins to power the Venator he arrived on. But traveling from the edge of the galaxy to its center isn’t a short trip. By the time they arrived, the group of newly graduated troopers had gone from wanting to show the galaxy what they were made of to wanting someone to show them where their barracks were.

However, there’s always that one trooper…

That shiny stood with his arms folded as he stared his brothers down. “Seriously? None of you want to come?”

“I’m tired,” one of them said simply, plopping down on his bunk.

“We get our assignments tomorrow,” another reminded him. “No way I’m meeting my new CO with red eyes.”

“But it’s 79’s! Our new commanders might even BE there!” the shiny reasoned excitedly.

“As of tomorrow, we’re Coruscant Guard. Don’t you think we’ll be seeing a lot of 79’s?”

The eager shiny sighed. He wasn’t going to win this one. “Fine. You can all be good little tubies and sleep tonight. I’m going to 79’s to finally see what it’s all about!”

“Have fun,” one waved without looking up. “Don’t do anything to get yourself arrested.”

“Yeah, that’d be awkward,” another added with a laugh.

“But it would be a great way to see the inside of HQ before the rest of us. Maybe that’s his plan.”

“Maybe I’ll be invited there by one of our commanders,” the shiny teased as he slid on his new, gleaming white helmet. “Or maybe I’ll go home with some hot civ.”

“If you get that lucky tonight,” the first trooper said with a smirk, “I’ll polish your helmet with my tongue.”

“Ugh. Good incentive not to then.” The shiny waved over his shoulder as he left the others to their rest. “Sweet dreams, little tube-lings!”

----------

CT-9075 was easily the most energetic of his batch. He was also incredibly observant and made connections others often missed. His near perfect marks in all aptitude tests involving deductive reasoning made him a prime candidate for the Coruscant Guard—not that they ever let him know that. The last thing the trainers on Kamino needed was to stoke the fire of a promising cadet’s ego.

Trooper 9075’s boundless energy wouldn’t let him rest as he should have done. It was his first night ever on another planet, and he wasn’t about to waste it. He had heard stories about 79’s, usually as he was listening in on the conversations of older troopers who didn’t know they were being spied on—stories of drinking, dancing, card games, and beautiful people who weren’t clones. He needed to see this wonder of the universe now.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he approached the doors, its tempo almost matching the thrum of the music within. He was glad he had his bucket on to reflect the orange light flooding down from above. He was certain he had a silly, “fresh off the meiloorun truck” grin on his face just from being at the entrance to the bar he had heard so much about, and he was glad he could hide it.

That grin faded to a nervous frown as soon as he walked in.

There had been people blocking part of the entrance, and though he could see the upper corner of a notice on the door, he hadn’t had a clear line of sight to read it. Now that he was inside, he turned around to read it through the other side of the transparisteel. Even backwards through the clear surface, he could make out the words “GAR Goth Night.”

Goth Night? I didn’t know 79’s did themed nights! What even is a goth night?

A quick look around gave him his answer.

Troopers and civilians alike were dressed in a dark and rebellious style. His clone brothers were all out of armor and wearing a mixture of styles and textures he would never have dreamed of putting together until now. Fishnet shirts or no shirt at all, tiny vinyl pants that left nothing to the imagination and full-length leather pants that…well, they didn’t leave much to the imagination either. Leather coats, studded collars, corsets, lace, fur, chains, spikes, piercings...

The civilians in attendance were dressed just as provocatively, though there were considerably more low-cut crop tops and short skirts being worn by that part of the 79’s population. 9075’s shoulders slumped. He had hoped to blend in and be part of the 79’s crowd tonight. Instead, he was literally and figuratively the shiniest thing there.

He couldn’t stay dressed as he was, but as his eyes landed on the bartender, he had a hopeful idea. He pulled off his helmet and secured it beneath his arm.

“Excuse me? Is there somewhere nearby where I can find some different clothes?”

The bartender took one look at the very un-goth armor in front of him and chuckled. “Didn’t get the memo about tonight, did you kid? Well, you’re in luck. There’s a whole storage closet in the back full of things people have left. Look for the door labeled ‘Lost and Found.’ Just don’t forget your armor when you leave. Something tells me you aren’t used to wearing yours yet.”

9075 pursed his lips to the side. He hated how right the older man was.

The lost and found cupboard was a treasure trove…if you were a woman. He wasn’t so desperate for a new look that he considered putting on one of the six black breast binders hanging on the closet’s hooks, but his young and curious gaze lingered on them for longer than he would ever admit. He didn’t fancy wearing a skirt either, though the sheer number of them had him wondering why so many of 79’s female patrons left the bar missing their clothes.

His bin rooting paid off. He was eventually able to find a few camouflaging choices for a man his size and left his armor carefully tucked beneath a pile of coats. He left the tiny room in a black turtleneck tee and pants, a couple of silver neck chains, and long, gray fingerless gloves roomy enough for him to tuck his vambrace into. It was a barely acceptable look, but with so many far more interesting people present, he doubted anyone would notice, and anything was better than his stark-white armor.

He sat at one of the empty seats of an unoccupied table and watched the comings and goings of the people at the bar. The view was intoxicating in its variety—so much so that he decided to put his skills to the test and try to discern what he could about the people he saw. It would be good practice for the detective work he would soon be doing.

Trooper 9075 knew full well why he was being assigned to the Guard. His observational skills were in the top five percent of all clones. It’s how he noticed the passwords of his trainers and knew when and where they would leave their datapads. He didn’t give it a second thought when he had looked up his scores. If they hadn’t wanted him to know, they should have done a better job of keeping the information secure.

His hidden vambrace was the perfect way to record his observations about the scene around him. He watched as nonchalantly as he could, discreetly speaking his findings into his vambrace’s recorder to review later:

CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report A woman just walked in, a pretty one—brown hair streaked with the same blue as her eyes, nice smile... CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report Marshal Commander Cody is here! I would know that legendary scar anywhere. He’s keeping his assets tastefully covered tonight... CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report I heard someone refer to the clone with the full beard as Commander Mayday. He seems to know he looks good in that sleeveless shirt with the mesh sides. It’s too bad THAT ONE wasn’t in the lost and found closet... CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report The little Mikkian talking to Commander Wolffe must be a Jedi. Three people have addressed her as “commander” in passing... CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report The men in front of me seem to be setting up a group holopic. Is that...Commander Fox? Then that must be Commander Thorn beside him. Here comes the marshal commander again. Oh, kriff! Here come three more. They're ALL commanders? Whoa! I'm going to be in the background of a commander holo! They all look so cool standing there, and here I am looking no more interesting than the bar stools. I don’t want to ruin the shot. I should do something to fit into it better. Finger blasters maybe…or a victory sign?

This was something his new brothers in the Guard wouldn’t be able to boast about! 9075 knew he would probably be tired in the morning, but it would be worth it. After all, how many shinies could say they were about to be framed on the desks of some of the GAR’s finest commanders?

He was feeling a little less shiny already. 

[dangraccoon]

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE

Chapter 13 - Review

Word Count: 1326

Content: the end of the war, clone rights are sentient rights, clones making their own government, a clone cadet accidentally parent-trapping Cody and Obi-Wan, Rex and Padmé getting so excited, both of them finally making a move

For @literallyjustanerd, based on this post

Mando'a Guide Ara'gotenir Tolase - Clone System; essentially the government for the clones Tsad'alor - group leader; something like a senator verd'ika - private (like the rank, although is often used affectionally for a child as "little soldier) orikih - tiny aar'ika - little pain, sting Gar cuy ori'jaon'yc bah ni, ratiin - You are important to me, always jetii'dral - the Force (lit. Jedi power) Ni kar'taylir gar suvarir mando'a, ner jetii - I know you understand mando'a, my jedi

The celebrations lasted several weeks. The ceasefire, peace agreement, and reintroduction to the Republic on the last CIS planet meant an official end to the war, almost exactly five years since it had begun. 

And with the end of the war, the Senate passed the Clone Rights Bill unanimously, and included provisions for housing, work, and back pay, which no one outside the Senate knew about. Cody would never forget the sight of millions of brothers crying out in joy because they were finally free. No, he wouldn’t forget that for the rest of his life.

Cody was free, though he tried not to think about it very much.

The GAR wouldn’t be dissolved completely, but used for aid missions, security forces, and other projects as needed. The clones would be paid for their labor as well as a sum of credits for their service in the war. 

Cody chose to remain in what they’d named the Ara’gotenir Tolase–though they usually just called it the AT–as a representative for those previously under his command. Really, they’d become something of a miniature Republic. 

Cody tapped away at his datapad, sipping his caf. 

“Tsad’alor Cody?” a small voice called from the doorway of his office. 

He looked up to see a cadet, maybe only four or five. “Hello there. What can I do for you, verd’ika?”

The kid fidgeted, looking down at his boots. 

Cody smiled and rose from his seat. “Why don’t you come in and sit down?” He gestured to the small seating area next to his desk. It was used more often for him crashing on the couch after working all night than it was for company, but he was happy for the change. 

“Yessir,” the cadet said as he did, sitting somewhat awkwardly on one of the chairs, and Cody tried not to cringe at the way his “orders” were immediately followed. 

“Try to relax,” he instructed as he sat on the couch. Not directly next to the boy, not far away. “I’m not a Commander anymore. You don’t have to use my rank or my title. You can just call me Cody, if you want.”

The kid nodded, but seemed to find the fabric of the chair far more interesting than Cody. 

“What’s your name, brother?”

“I-I don’t have one,” he mumbled after a moment. “My… my batchmates call me orikih.”

Cody nodded. “But do you like to be called that?”

The boy shook his head immediately. “No, sir! I hate it when they tease me just ‘cause I came outta the tubes all shrunk!”

Cody’s brows lifted. He hadn’t expected the outburst.

“I’m sorry, si– um, Ori’vod,” the boy muttered. 

“No need to apologize, verd’ika,” he smiled softly, scooching to the edge of his seat. “Can I let you in on a secret?”

It was the kid’s turn to look surprised. He nodded eagerly. 

Cody leaned in closer, making a show of looking over his shoulders around his empty office. “I was the little one in my batch and–”

“Really?”

“Yes, I was very orikih, too,” he grinned. “But that’s not what my batchers called me.” 

The cadet watched him with wide eyes. Cody felt his heart warm even more than it had when the boy had come in. 

“They liked to tease me by calling me aar’ika,” he chuckled.

To Cody’s surprise and his utter joy, his little brother laughed. It was a wonderful, musical sound that he hadn’t heard in some time.

“They call you ‘little pain’?”

“They did! Alpha-17 even did for a while.”

The kid’s smile faded as he returned to his quieter nature. His brow furrowed a little, the same way all their vode did. “How did you make them stop?”

He smiled gently. “I won’t lie to you, verd’ika,” he said, very seriously. “They didn’t stop for a long time. Our batch’s twins–Fox and Wolffe–they’re more stubborn than an entire herd of banthas put together, but I did have someone on my side.”

Curiosity lit the boy’s face again. “Who?”

“It was Prime, himself,” a new voice called from the doorway. “And he gave him a new name: Kote.”

Cody nearly broke his neck, turning to see General Kenobi, leaning against the door frame. It had been nearly a year since he’d seen his old General in person, not that Cody had counted. Cody felt like he’d been sent back in time. Kenobi looked all the same and all different. His eyes still sparkled that electrifying blue, his beard still sat neatly around his face, and his lips still pulled in a small smile. He’d grown his hair out though; the auburn locks were tinted with gray at his temples and fell to his shoulders, the top half tied back. 

And Cody was just as taken with him as he’d ever been.

The cadet seemed unsurprised, however, merely looking over and smiling. “Prime?”

Cody pulled himself out of his stun to grin at the boy again. “The very same.”

“Did you ask Tsad’alor Cody your questions, dear?” Kenobi asked. “He’s very busy taking care of you and all your brothers, so we mustn’t take up too much of his time.”

“Master Obi-Wan, he told me to just call him Cody,” the boy chastised.

Cody and Kenobi hid their matching grins.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Just Cody, then.” 

The boy sighed. “I asked Master Obi-Wan if the slowing treatment hurts and he said he didn’t know because he didn’t have it but I really want to know because I… a-and I know we have to be brave because we’re soldiers, but I’m scared, Ori’vod”

Cody’s heart just about broke in two. “I know big things like this are very frightening. I was nervous before I had the treatment and I–” he cut himself off; he didn’t want to frighten the kid with tales of the procedures the first few generations had undergone at the hands of the Kaminoans. “I’ve been through a lot of scary treatments. But our vode jah’ade are the best of the best and the jetiise who look after you all are the kindest there are.”

The boy nodded, but still seemed apprehensive. 

“We don’t always need to be brave, vod,” he continued. “We don’t need to be anything we don’t want to be. Mhi cuy mav jii.”

“Mhi cuy mav jii,” the cadet repeated slowly. It was something many of the clones had taken to saying, like a quiet remembrance for their past and a hopeful prayer for their future. 

After another moment, his eyes lit up. Cody recognized that particular spark. “Cody?”

“Yes, vod?”

“I know my name,” he breathed. “Mav.”

Cody smiled, letting all his pride bleed into it. “It has been so wonderful to meet you, Mav.”

Mav smiled back at him, but then he pounced, wrapping Cody in a tight hug. “Vor’e, Cody!”

Mav ran over to the General, beaming up at him.

“Mav is a good name,” he told him. “It suits you, little one. Will you wait for me in the hallway?”

“Yes, Master Obi-Wan,” Mav chirped, happily leaving. 

“And please don’t wander off this time!” he called after him. “I don’t want to have to send Hound after you again!”

Kenobi looked back at Cody, making his way toward him and they both broke out into light laughter.

“How have you been, General?” Cody asked. “Last I heard, you’ve busied yourself with the cadets?”

“Yes,” Kenobi chuckled. “It seems like an entire war surrounded by your brothers wasn’t quite enough.”

“I’ve been surrounded by my brothers my whole life and I cannot see the appeal,” Cody shrugged. 

The General smiled. “Well, I do admit that not all of them are as charming as you.”

Cody felt that old familiar ache in his chest, like he was being towed in on a fishing line. He breathed a laugh.

Kenobi sighed, turning away. “I’ve embarrassed you; I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Cody stammered. “You haven’t, at all. I guess…”

Kenobi stepped a little closer to him. “You guess?”

Cody held his breath for a moment to keep from sighing. Kenobi was wearing the same fragrance as he had that night at 79s. Warm, hints of some kind of spice, and all too easily flooding his senses and pulling him closer.

“I, um– I guess I’ve fallen out of the habit of receiving your compliments, sir,” he managed. “They’re not unwelcome, of course, just… unexpected.”

Kenobi smiled and chuckled. Cody could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. 

“Cody, I-I feel I must tell you something,” he said, his smile fading slightly. “I couldn’t tell you during the war, and by the end we so rarely saw one another.”

“Yes?” Cody whispered. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Kenobi bit his lip, glancing away, but quickly closed the short distance between them. His lips pressed softly against Cody’s cheek for a moment, then near his ear.

“Gar cuy ori'jaon'yc bah ni, ratiin.”

Cody’s mouth opened with a soft gasp as Kenobi pulled away smiling. Somehow, his mind was simultaneously blank and overflowing with thoughts.

Kenobi nodded a goodbye, then left to find Mav. Cody had spent the last year ignoring the ache of missing General Kenobi, but it came in full force as he watched him walk away, chatting with one of his little brothers.

He kissed him. High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator, a Jedi Master and member of the Jedi Council kissed him? Of course, it was only on the cheek, but it was so soft that he could only really describe it as tender.

His shaking hand touched his cheek–where General Kenobi kissed him–just at the end of his scar.

Wait. Wait, did Kenobi–

He replayed the moment in his mind, trying desperately to focus on what happened after he kissed him.

“Gar cuy ori’jaon’yc bah ni, ratiin.”

General Kenobi spoke mando’a, and fluently at that. No mispronunciations, no hesitance. 

Cody moved to his desk, flopping down in the chair and tapping the comm unit to call Rex.

“Hey, aren’t you at work? What’s up?”

“Rex, does General Kenobi know mando’a?”

The line was quiet for a moment. “What?”

“Does Kenobi know mando’a?” Cody repeated.

“Am I a kriffin’ holonet search?” Rex scoffed. “Why would I know that?”

“Ask Skywalker, then,” Cody huffed. 

“Cody, Anakin’s not–”

“Come on, Rex, I can hear his tubies in the background.”

Rex snorted. “The natborns call them babies, Codes. Anakin’s not here, but maybe Padmé will know.”

Cody heard the comm unit click against something and Rex’s retreating footsteps. He could hear Rex and Amidala’s voices, but couldn’t make out the words.

Then there were footsteps, and rustling. 

“Are you still there?” Senator Amidala asked. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “How are you, Senator?”

Amidala groaned. “You know better, Cody. Try again.”

Cody chuckled. “How are you, Padmé?”

“I’m doing very well, thank you, Cody.” He could hear the snarky grin in her voice. “Now, you want to know if Obi-Wan speaks mando’a?”

“Yes,” Cody breathed. He felt like he was very close to the edge of something, but he couldn’t tell if it would be better to stay that way or to simply fall.

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me,” she said. “That man collects languages like they were rare antiques.”

“That’s an understatement,” he heard Rex scoff in the background.

“And he did spend a year on Mandalore protecting our friend Satine,” she continued. “I’m sure she taught him some mando’a… between everything else I’m sure she taught him.”

Cody’s mind whirled as Rex laughed loudly in the background and Padmé chuckled.

“When did he…”

“Oh, it was years ago, long before the war. They hadn’t even found Anakin– actually, I’m not sure he’d even been born.”

Cody felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. “He… understood mando’a… the entire time?”

“He never said anything?” Rex asked. “The vode talked around him like they did with everyone and he never mentioned it?”

“Kriff,” he said simply. “Oh, kriff.”

“What is it?” Padmé asked. “I thought that would be nice.”

“Rex, do you remember that night we went to 79s and General Kenobi bought us drinks?”

The comm was quiet. “Yeah, yeah, Gregor and I left to give you two some space, but you never told me everything that happened that night. All I know is what you put on that damn spreadsheet you had.”

“I’m sorry, what spreadsheet?” Padmé asked, her voice filled with delight. 

Cody heard Rex mumble something about "you and Ahsoka" and “later”. 

“I gotta go,” Cody mumbled. 

He heard them answer, but he couldn’t quite process anything beyond the short tone that indicated the end of the call. 

Cody sat in his office, brow furrowed, waiting for his brain to actually start working.

Rex: cody 

Rex: when was the last time you looked at your spreadsheet

Cody: What? I stopped adding to it after that night. You know that. 

Rex: yeah okay but when did you look at it

Rex: codes you still there

Cody: Yes; I was thinking. I believe I looked at it near the end of the war, right before we shipped off to rebuild Christophsis. Why?

Rex: you might want to look at it

Rex: like now

Cody: Why?

Event: My dear, oblivious Commander left his datapad unattended on his desk with this document still open

Rational explanation: Cody is once again overtired from working so incredibly hard (as he is wont to do) and simply forgot to power down the datapad, too distracted by his sense of duty and work ethic, as admirable as they are detrimental to his sleep

Irrational explanation: The Commander shares in my affections but is simply so oblivious to my (rather obvious) signals that he feels the need to rationalise our interactions instead of accepting that we are, and indeed have been, flirting

Additional notes: In regard to the above: it meant everything and more to me, my darling x

Cody was getting out of the taxi before he even realized he’d gotten up from his desk. 

He’d accompanied the General to the Jedi Temple on several occasions, but he’d only come here alone once for his Deceleration treatment. Even then, Rex was already there, waiting for him. 

Their security was far more lax than Cody thought it should be, though he assumed their jetii’dral would alert them better than any other system would. 

“Hello,” a soft voice called. “Can I help you find where you’re going?”

He looked up the flight of stairs before him, his heart warming to see a familiar face. 

“Why, Cody,” General Ti smiled. “It’s been some time since you last visited.”

“Too long, Gen- Master Ti,” he agreed. 

“You look like you’re on a mission,” she hummed. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Cody felt his face flush slightly. “Actually, I’m looking for Gen- Master Kenobi.”

She smiled and gestured for him to follow her. “I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you that Obi-Wan keeps a fairly regular schedule these days.”

“Not at all,” Cody agreed. “During the war, he always said our schedules were like ‘organized chaos’.”

Master Ti laughed lightly. “Yes, that does sound like him. Well, there’s only a few places he would be at this time; I’m sure we’ll find him quickly.”

Cody followed her through the halls until they got to an area labeled “Crèche”. 

A stern looking Togruta met Master Ti as they entered, but soon they were surrounded by cadets and younglings, all clamoring for Master Ti’s attention.

“Alright, alright, I promise I will look at all of your lovely drawings,” she laughed, quieting the kids. “But first, I need your help. Our friend Cody is looking for Master Obi-Wan.”

“He was with the little ones!” one of the kih’vod shouted. 

“Kybuck Clan,” an Initiate added.

Ti looked back towards Cody. “Do you know where their room is? Master Kiish can show you–”

“That’s alright, Masters,” Cody grinned. “You both seem to have your hands full here.”

He waved goodbye to the cadets that had been watching him and continued down the hallway, passing grand doors with elaborate designs with the symbols of the different creatures the clans were named for until he came across a Kybuck.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The rooms were circular, connected to one another in a way that reminded Cody a little of Kamino, but much warmer. And drier. 

Little scraps of flimsi covered practically any surface of the main room, colorful drawings of just about anything a young mind could imagine. They were scribbled and hard to make out, with scrawled lettering Cody could hardly read. His smile grew as he looked at them all the same. 

He heard a soft sigh and approaching footsteps. 

“That’s the last of the down for their naps,” Kenobi said, pulling his robe back on. “I’ll be back tomorrow for–”

Kenobi looked up, his eyes widening when he saw Cody and not whatever jetii he’d been expecting. 

“Hello there,” Cody whispered. 

Kenobi gathered himself quickly. “I must admit I’m surprised to see you again so soon.”

“A good surprise, I hope,” Cody smiled. 

Kenobi nodded. “A good surprise, indeed.”

Kenobi led him back through the crèche, pausing every so often to talk to the various little ones who ran up to him. 

“You’re quite popular around here,” Cody noted, then added nervously “We can talk another time–”

“No, please,” Kenobi said quickly. “I’d like to talk now.”

They were quiet as Kenobi led them up to his room. It was neat and warm, and Cody felt comfortable there almost immediately. 

“Would you like some caf?” Kenobi offered after insisting that Cody sit down at the small table. 

Cody chuckled. “You actually keep caf in here?”

“Anakin visits,” he hummed with a shrug. “And Ahsoka is studying for some exams. Do you still like it black?”

“Actually, I haven’t had as much since the end of the war,” Cody admitted. He could feel his cheeks warming slightly. “I’ve been drinking more tea lately.”

Kenobi lit up, his smile widening as he turned back to face Cody. “Do you have a preference on what kind? Force knows I’ve got a variety.”

“You pick,” Cody smirked. “I trust your good taste.”

Kenobi nodded and quickly turned away, but Cody could see the tips of his ears tinting pink. 

As he sat there, watching his former General as he utilized the small kitchenette, he realized that he had no plan. 

He was a Marshal Commander in the army. He made thousands of battle plans and decisions for two and a half years. He’d spent his entire life before that being trained for it. And yet, he’d read the addition from Kenobi and the only thing he’d come up with was to find Kenobi. He could practically hear every ori’vod and trainer he’d ever had berating him. 

“So you take care of the little ones these days?” Cody piped up as Kenobi brought the kettle and mugs over. 

“When I can,” he nodded. “I’m still on the Council and I do go on missions when needed, but I’ve always enjoyed working with the younglings.”

Cody smiled as he took a sip of his tea, recognizing the taste of spiced fruit. “This is from Alderaan, right?”

Kenobi smiled. “It is,” he confirmed.

“A gift from Chancellor Organa?” 

“Yes,” Kenobi said, seeming somewhat bewildered. “How did you–”

“This is what you brought me before Ryloth,” Cody said. 

Kenobi’s face turned red. “I… I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I do,” he smirked, leaning towards his former General. “It’s like I told you, ‘you’re too important and too beautiful for me to forget anything about you,’ remember?”

Kenobi was speechless and Cody found that he loved being able to have this effect on him. He reached across the table, easing Kenobi’s mug from his hand and replacing it with his hand.

“Ni kar'taylir gar suvarir mando'a, ner jetii,” he breathed, locking his gaze onto those beautiful eyes. He watched as his cheeks turned so red he might’ve thought they’d catch fire. “And I know about your addition to my… stupid spreadsheet.”

“You do?” Kenobi whispered. 

“I do, sir,” Cody admitted. “I’ve been such a fool. I thought I was imagining things or that it was just wishful thinking.”

“You didn’t imagine any of it,” Kenobi said. “In fact, there was a lot you didn’t include on your list.”

Cody chuckled. “Of course there was.” He squeezed Kenobi’s hand lightly, his thumb rubbing across his scarred knuckles. “Can you ever forgive me for how oblivious I’ve been?”

Kenobi smiled widely, setting Cody’s heart on fire. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cody.”

“I need you to know that I still feel the same as I always have,” Cody said. “Even when I pushed you away, trying to act professionally. I was and am completely in love with you. And I always will be, Obi-Wan.”

He’d never dared to say the General’s first name aloud, but the feeling of it in his mouth was addictive. He watched Obi-Wan tremble slightly.

“Oh, Cody,” Obi-Wan sighed. He stood, pulling Cody from his chair and closer to him. Instinctively, Cody wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, pulling him tightly against his chest.

“I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say that,” Obi-Wan said, his hand gently cupping the side of Cody’s face. His thumb traced over the end of his scar. “I’m in love with you, Cody. You’ve had my heart from the moment I met you.”

Together, at last, they closed the space between them, their lips meeting softly, yet full of passion and heat.

When they pulled away they were breathless, simply smiling at one another. 

“What now?” Cody whispered. “I love you and you love me, so what’s next?”

Obi-Wan smiled, pressing another soft kiss to his lover’s lips. “Whatever we want, my dear.”

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Thank you all so much for your love and support! I'm so happy that so many people enjoyed this self-indulgent project. Please make sure you go give love on the original!!! 💛💛💛

Thanks for reading! - River

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE Master List DangRaccoon Master List Tag List Form Read on AO3

Tags: @nekotaetae @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @lokigirlszendaya @nomercyforthewarrior @Padawancat97 @idoubleswearimawriter @wishyouthetest @orangez3st @Amiacatholicoracat-holic @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[freesia-writes]

Originating from this post, I'd like to offer a list of longfics featuring TCW/TBB characters for those of you looking for some good reads! Feel free to drop any others into my asks! Fics are general audience or PG-13 unless noted "Mature" at the end.

The links are mostly to the post with the authors' descriptions so you can get a better idea of what each one is about!

Crosshair

Sharp Edges - @spicy-clones and @lightwise - Crosshair x F!Reader - Mature

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy - @badbatchposts - Crosshair x OC plus Batch/others - Mature

When the Order Fell - @victimofdavefiloni - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Caught in the Crosshairs - @silverwings22 - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Half-Moon Glow - @moonstrider9904 - Crosshair x OC; TCW AU - Mature

Roasted, Brewed, and Served with Attitude - MelMorganne99 - Crosshair x OC in Modern Police AU

It Never Rains - @letsquestjess - Crosshair x OC

Sunflowers and Blasters - @523rdrebel - Crosshair x OC

Only What Burns You Back - @the-little-moment - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Tech

Tech and Vel - @freesia-writes - Tech x OC

Song of the Sea - @silverwings22 - Tech x Alien OC - Mature

Tech as a Father - @missfrieden - Tech and Batch

Gravitation - @moonstrider9904 - Tech x OC AU - Mature

Meltdown - @autistic-artistech - Tech x OC - Mature

Brother, Hold Me Up - @lifblogs - Tech, Batch, Others - Mature

The World Goes Cold - @lifblogs - Tech, Batch - Mature

Hunter

Beyond the Shadow of a Doubt - @freesia-writeswrites - Hunter x OC

Hunter and the Librarian - @clonethirstingisreal - Hunter x OC - modern day AU

Sun and Rain - @photogirl894 - Hunter x OC

As Iron Sharpens Iron - @arctrooper69 - Hunter x Reader

Echo

Not Just the Carcass, But the Spark - @the-little-moment - Echo x OC - Mature

Test Subject/System Upgrade - @just-here-with-my-thoughts - Echo and the Batch

Rex

Captain's Log - @rexxdjarin - Rex x OC - Mature

Wolffe

I Yearn, and So I Fear - enigmaticexplorer - Wolffe x OC - Mature

The Wolfpack Queen - @reader6898 - Wolffe x OC - Mature

No Strings Attached and Walk Me Home (sequel) - @cyarbika - Wolffe x F!Reader - Mature

Multiple Featured Characters

Rise of the Clones - @AmberOwl24 - SO MANY CHARACTERS!

Stars Beyond Number - @dystopicjumpsuit - Clone Rebellion Echo x Riyo, Gregor x OC - Mature

The Moonwalker Series - @moonstrider9904 - Batch x OC (love triangle then single pairing) - Mature

Line of Destiny: A Series - @ilikemymendarkandfictional - Multiple Stories: Rex x OC, Crosshair x OC, Clone OCs and Howzer

Same Heart - @dumfanting - F!Reader x TCW Echo, then Fives, then Echo/Cross Poly - Mature

Blood Daughter - @letsquestjess - OC + Bad Batch Adventure 

A Lupe of Faith - @lonewolflupe - Jedi!OC x Fives, later x Hunter - Mature eventually

Stronger Together - @cloneflo99 - Rex/Crosshair x OC - Mature

Other Clones

Quantum Entanglement - @freesia-writes - Howzer x OC

Martyrs and Kings - @dystopicjumpsuit - Post-Stasis Kix x OC - Mature

The Only Exception - @starqueensthings - Howzer x OC - Mature

Disillusioned - @amberskyyking - OC + OC Clone Squad Adventure - Mature-ish

The Helmeted Hunter - @jedimasterlenawrites - Boba Fett x F!Reader - PG-13

Children of Providence - @ladysongmaster - Din Djarin, TCW Characters Adventure

The Last Word - @ariadnes-red-thread - Fives x OC

One Step at a Time - @wild-karrde - Clone OC - Mature

Welcome to the Outpost - @just-here-with-my-thoughts - Mayday!!

[bones4918]

So basically, after some very helpful person on twitter sent me more details about the Star Wars in universe calendar, I recalculated my clone wars timeline a little. Very little has been moved around, but now you can look at the war through the lens of a 10 or 12 month calendar, and multiple galactic holidays are timelined too!

[fangirlforeversthings]

-Take me on a date first-

---Teaser about a little fanfiction i'm working on, on how it came to codywans first date----

*The rough plot and outline of my first ever fanfiction wip

Ahsoka: So master obi wan when are you and cody getting together. Like when are you gonna tell the other you love them?

Obi wan choking on his tea: I dont love cody?!

Anakin: when are you gonna marry?

Obi: I'M NOT GONNA MARRY CODY!

Anakin: but you agree that he is a handsome and kind man?

Obi pressed: well yeah obviously but i mea'

Ahoska yelling back over her shoulder to the boys: CODY OBI WAN SAID YOU ARE VERY HANDSOME AND KIND

Anakin: AND THAT HE WANTS TO MARRY YOU

Everyone: ahaaaa

Boil: I knew it!

Waxer: i hope we are getting an invitation

Rex: And drinks? on you of course *to cody leaning on his shoulder*

Fives: can i be the flower girl?🥺

Cody now joining: very first off all thank you sir and you are not that bad yourself. But i would much like to be taken on a date first. A nice restaurant with fine wine or a casual walk in the evening when it rains so we can share an umbrella

Obi wan fighting for his life to explain himself: I, listen to me guys.........wait. Would.....are you into such things?

Ahsoka: why are you asking him? did you plan something? did you hope he is?

Anakin: yeah did you?

Obi wan: i no it's..

Cody: so you don't want me?

Obi: no i mean yeah i mean'

Cody: Fine cause i'm taking you serious if you take me to a restaurant

Obi: *hrmph*oh yeah?

Cody: yeah

Obi: good

Cody: good

Obi: i'm serious. Like i'm gonna do it?.

Cody: yeah fine.

Obi: Fine. i'll pick you up later at eight then

Cody: fine

Obi: FINE.

Everyone watching excited, dead silent holding their breaths, constantly turning their heads switching looks between them as each one speaks.

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

-Later this evening-

Hiding behind an aquarium each head poking out to the nose behind its corners sit echo, fives, boil and waxer, spying on cody and obi wan who acutally went on their date actually having fine wine.

Waxer: its going well 🤭

Echo smirking: yeah they are really sweetly stupidly smiling at each other the whole time

Boil: we are so gonna get an invitation to the wedding! I mean we are the ones that brought them together atlast

Fives adorned with flowers in his hair he stole from the bush left to him his hands folded infront of his chest: and i get to be the flower girl🙏🏻🌷

Echo *sigh*: yes fives, you can be the flower girl

Fives: yes! :3 *before he returns his attention back to codywan, laughing sensually together at the moment

Boil whispering to echo: what is up with that guy? *points at fives behind upheld hand*

Echo:.......like right now or in general?

Fives: 😑

Boil comms anakin. Wearing leave brenches secured with a headband on their heads, spy glasses and Camouflage clothes, he and ahsoka are hiding inside the bushes and spy on codywan on obi wans side of the room:

Boil comm: Mission goes well sir.

Ahoska giving them a look from across the room and a thumbs up

-----------

-Next morning-

Boil and waxer: Good morning general🎶

Obi wan: Good morning🎶

They chat and giggle about the situation a bit more before boil goes silent suddenly.

Waxer:.....he is right behind me isn't he?

Suddenly a hand grips waxers throat from behind not hard, but firm

Waxer: 😬 good morning sir

Cody: Good morning.

Boil: you saw us didn't you

Cody: i would be a bad commander if i hadn't right?.......and blind. And deaf.

Waxer: right.

Cody bowing down and whispering: you will feel the wrongs of spying on your commander.

He then leaves to greet obi wan

Cody *clears his throat* uhm good morning.

Obi wan turning to him smiling *blushing*: good morning

Cody: i uh it was nice yesterday i liked it.

Obi wan: me too.

Moment of awkward silence

Obi wan: we uhm should repeat it again at some point.

Cody *blushing* yeah yeah definetly.

Obi:

Cody:

Obi:

Cody:so uh i will go to my uhm i have matters to attend to you know commander stuff

Obi: of course

Cody leaves

Obi calling after him: have a nice day dear

(First time he called him that)

Cody nodding back and basically sprinting away to hide his corrie red, face neck and chest slapping his forehead while he walks: commander things?! Damnit cody. Just shut up next time. It was going so well ugh.

Obi wan smiling after him.

The others who were on spy mode again cheering and high five'ing each other as both had left.

[wistfulforstars]

For What It's Worth - Part 1 Rex x Reader

Summary: You've never been very subtle about your support of clone rights, especially after you started secretly dating Rex. But you never thought a few simple pins would bring you this kind of trouble. All alone, on the mean streets of Coruscant, your life is suddenly in danger and you don't know if you'll be able to make it back to him. Warnings: reader is afab, mugging, attack on the street, general violence, degrading language, clone rights propaganda, physical violence but no noncon/sexual assault, mature sexual content in later chapters, minors: get out

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

The button had been a joke.

Clones Do It Better, emblazoned on a bright red & blue button in obnoxious font and accompanied by a little cartoon helmet, was pinned to your work bag. A gift from a very close friend who knew your habit of decorating every surface you owned with stickers, patches, and yes, pins. 

She also happened to know about your very secret relationship with a certain well-known clone high in the GAR ranks. So it was a particularly cheeky inside joke that you’d happily added to your collection. But it was still, in fact, a joke.

The men who’d pulled you into that alleyway clearly didn’t know that.

To be fair, the other buttons you’d proudly worn on your backpack - Clone Rights NOW, Fight for Those Who Fight For Us, Humanity Beyond the Helmet - were not jokes. You believed every word.

To be even fairer, that didn’t give these bastards permission to shove your face - hard - against a cold metal wall, arm so horribly twisted behind your back that you swore you felt a bone start to give way. 

You cried out, tears springing from the corners of your eyes. They laughed, a cruel, rotten sound that landed like a stone in the pit of your stomach. From the jeers you couldn’t make out - you might be concussed, and was that blood you felt dripping off your brow? - and the shuffling of feet behind you, you thought there were three of them. They sounded young, irrationally angry, and quite drunk.

“...fucking meat droid whore!” Your brain finally began filtering through all the noise.

Ah. So that was it. They saw your backpack as you were leaving work for the night. It wasn’t hard to spot, you were practically a walking pro-clone advertisement. And it wasn’t the first time you’d gotten a dirty look or even a nasty comment because of it. But you never thought, not even in one of the rougher districts, you would find yourself in this position. 

There were very persistent anti-clone movements out there. People who saw every soldier in the GAR as less than human. Why should they care about an expensive vanity project for the senate and the jedi, anyway? The clones were being put through a galactic meat grinder regardless, and certain people decided they didn’t give a shit. And it seems, some of them had found you.

Alentia was going to feel awful when she found out.  

You push yourself away from the wall with your other hand and take stock of your situation. You’re outnumbered, you’re dazed, you’re trapped, and you’re not sure if the blood from your forehead has reached your lip or if your nose is bleeding too.

“Can’t believe she let a bunch of second-hand cells fuck her-”

“Ruined herself on a lab experiment-”

You were still in your medic’s uniform, not much protection there. One of them had you by your hair and arm. Another cut away at the straps on your backpack. 

Great, there was a knife in play somewhere. 

“Maybe she’s so ugly that nat-borns won’t have her-”

But… They didn’t know that you kept your comm hooked to your belt, instead of at your wrist. It was better when you were at work, less external nonsense near your hands. And they didn’t know about the emergency button that your boyfriend had reprogrammed to go to a very specific direct line, just in case.

They didn’t even see you reach down and hit it. The man who had you pinned was too busy yanking your head back by your hair. You bit your lip to keep from crying out.

His friends were slashing your backpack to bits, stomping on the buttons that fell from the scraps.

“Got nothing to say, bitch?”

No, you really didn’t. You didn’t care to explain yourself to a trio of prejudiced little boys with too much booze and cruelty in their blood. You didn’t give a shit as to why they thought what they were doing was justified or noble or right with the world. Spots were forming in front of your eyes and you wanted so very badly to close them.

I’ll be back in three days, cyare, he’d said, late at night when he could finally get away from his men and make a covert call. 

Right. He’d be back. And you’d be waiting.

It would take under ten minutes for someone to answer your emergency distress call. He’d assured you of that when he’d programmed the number in. Someone was coming. They’d be here any second. You had to stall. 

So you could see Rex again.

[leapingbadger]

The Deserter - A CodyWan One Shot

His feet were heavy as he waded through the deep sand. The twin suns beating down on him. His armor had started the chafe as his sweat itched under his blacks. The Bantha had tossed him a few kilometers back, leaving him the arduous task of continuing on foot before the desert sunset brought his inevitable death.

He was close now though, although he didn’t know how he knew. Could he sense it?

The first sun had started to disappear behind the horizon as Cody made his way to the top of a sand dune. Silhouetted against the scarlet sky was a dwelling, sand beaten and worn. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was uninhabited, but he knew it wasn’t. Again, he was not sure how he knew.

Boyed by the promise of his destination finally within his grasp after years of desperate yearning, Cody continued on. His steps steadier, stronger than they had been before.

He reached the final peak; it was all downhill from here. Cody took off his helmet to wipe his face, noticing a figure standing outside of the dwelling for the first time. He smiled to himself, of course he knew. He’d probably known he was on his way for a while.

Cody tucked his helmet under his arm and continued on, not taking his eyes off him. He felt an invisible electricity as the man’s bright blue eyes looked into his own, even from this far away.

They were ten meters apart before the cloaked figure raised a blaster. Cody froze.

“Are you here to finish the job, my dear Commander?” Obi Wan asked, a hint of humor in his voice but steely determination in his eyes.

“I…I…came to apologize, Sir,”

Obi Wan didn’t lower the blaster and closed his eyes.

“Don’t,” Cody said and watched as Obi Wan’s eyes shot open again, “I want…I need you to trust me. Without…without looking with the force. I…” his voice trailed off. Who was he to ask such things? To set such terms? Obi Wan had every right to be cautious. Who was Cody to ask so much of him? His beloved General.

Cody’s hand went to his blaster, his hand fast as he grabbed it and threw it away into the sand. Obi Wan didn’t flinch, didn’t even move as he did so. He knew. He had to know, Cody thought.

Obi Wan finally lowered his own blaster, a wry smile covering his lips, “I always hoped you would come,” he said, turning back into the small, round dwelling, beckoning for his Commander to follow.

“Here,” Obi Wan said, shoving a cup of water into Cody’s hand as he crossed the threshold.

The first sun had escaped the line of the horizon now, buried in the sand. The second sun’s amber glow illuminated Obi Wan’s house, the white walls transformed into a golden shrine. It might as well have been for Cody. It was where he had come to find absolution anyway.

Cody watched as Obi Wan busied himself, flitting from small room to small room, avoiding eye contact as he did so. It was so unlike him, Cody thought. His General was always so direct, so sure.

As he walked back into the same room as Cody, their eyes met. The blue pools of Obi Wan’s eyes hadn’t been dried up by the desert planet he now found himself on, but the rest of him was a shadow of his former self. His skin tan and worn, the hair once so cropped and neat hung long and shaggy. The grey streaks that had been visible at the end of the war had taken over the copper hue, each color battling for supremacy.

This was Cody’s doing. Cody and the empire.

“General,” Cody said, hoping to gain his attention. He had come such a long way. So many years of searching.

“I am no longer a General, Commander.” Obi Wan said pointedly.

“And I am no longer a Commander, Sir.”

They paused and gazed at each other. “Very well, Cody.” Obi Wan said. A warm smile erupted on his face.

How many years had Obi Wan wanted to call Cody by his name in public and in private and never be able to? Cody knew it was probably as often as he had longed to call him, his Jedi, Obi Wan.

“Obi Wan, I…” Cody stumbled over his words. He’d rehearsed this so many times for so many years over and over in his head. It was the silent thought that lit him from within. The one thing that kept him going on mission after mission. It was the one thought that made him leave the empire. It was Obi Wan, the ghost of him that had done that.

Obi Wan stood in the doorway on the other side of the room. His ragged robes discarded, now clothed more casually than Cody had ever seen him, but still every bit the Jedi. Even if he wasn’t allowed to be one anymore.

“I can’t explain it. What I did. I didn’t want to; I knew it was wrong, but I still did it…I am so sorry, General. And I’m so relieved you survived,” The last sentence spilled out in a guttural sob. Cody felt the knot in his chest loosen.

He didn’t know when it happened or how but Obi Wan had crossed the distance between them quickly, his arm resting his Cody’s shoulder. “I fear we were all pawns in a game we had no hope to win, Cody. I trusted you with my life…” he paused, head lowered but eyes raised to his former Commander, “…and my heart. I have no doubt I can do so again.”

Cody would have collapsed in relief had Obi Wan not caught him. Tangled on the floor of the hovel, Obi Wan held the commander as he wept. The years of anguish and self-hatred slowly seeping out.

“Thank you for finding me,” Obi Wan whispered, cupping Cody’s face in his hands and kissing him gently on the forehead.

Obi Wan’s strong arms encircled him, calmed him and with the fading light of Tatooine’s last sun, Cody could finally looked into his lover’s eyes once more and smile.

[kometqh]

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓻𝔂..

Pt2. Captain Rex x F!Reader x Fives What happens when two of the men you admire suddenly begin to show just how interested they are in you, days after your secret diary goes missing? Word Count: 3514 Warnings: Edited but most likely has some grammar mistakes, reader is scared of water. A/N: Ugh this took my poor little brain too long to write but it's here now and I'm very proud <33

The rhythmic buzzing of cicadas paired with the summer heat and sunbathing on the beach was the perfect situation to find yourself in. The negotiations had gone smoothly, and your squad was permitted a spontaneous shore leave.  

Navy blue waves licked lazily at the sand; the water contrastingly cold to the desert-like temperatures of the beach. A cool breeze accompanied the waves, providing a semblance of comfort as it danced with tall, sparse strands of wild grass.

You were seated on a sunbed, just beneath the dark shadow of an umbrella, enjoying the distant echoes of laughter from your squad. It was extremely uncommon for them to enjoy anything but the popular bar, 79s, on their days off. 

You had to bargain with the Jedi council for a solid half an hour before Master Windu had finally given you the nod of approval.

Now, Rex reaped the benefits of shore leave in the form of a nap in the sun. You had made sure to apply a kriff ton of sun cream onto his back and shoulders and neck before he had fallen asleep, a mumbled 'thank you' rolling off the tip of his tongue as his eyes became droopy.

He was severely sleep deprived; always being assigned to Skywalker's side rather than yours. It wasn't that he didn't like Master Skywalker, it's just his missions and plans were always reckless and exhausting, and they ended with a few too many casualties.

Of course, that was always inevitable, and Rex did his best not to linger on the fallen, but it didn't always come to him easily.

But with you, he could rest assured.

With you, he could relax under the warm sun, feel the burning sand, and enjoy the comfort of seaside waves.

His caring nature also ensured that everyone would be provided for whilst he was asleep. Bringing extra sun-cream, a cooler filled to the brim with water bottles and ice lollies, and extra towels as well as beach balls.

Where did he get the credits from?

Well, that was a code that nobody could decipher.

Nevertheless, there you were, relaxing with your beloved Captain. Fives had dragged most of the squad into the waves, insisting that they play volleyball. He had tried to take you too, but your reluctance and uncertainty deterred him. 

He had waved you off with a 'Watch me, General' and a wink before he engaged in a series of games of clumsy water volleyball.

Since they'd undergone ARC Trooper training, it became more uncommon for Echo and Fives to join the 501st on longer campaigns. 

Each time they were reunited, Fives would glance to Echo with a small smile. And now, he was busy wrestling with Hardcase in the shallow parts of the water, laughter escaping the two as Echo hit the ball into the air.

A series of hoorays and pats on the back erupted as the ball hit the water with a splash. 

One score for Echo's team.

You were content with watching from the side lines, if you remained far from the water.

If you still had your diary on you, you'd probably busy yourself writing down the details of this day, so the memory could continue to live on long after the war was over.

But just a few days prior it went missing. You thought you misplaced it and ransacked your entire quarters for it. By the time Rex had knocked on your door, nothing was in its' correct spot. Crumpled bedsheets, swinging closet doors and a chair in the middle of the room as you had searched under your desk.

He wanted to question your panicked state, but as soon as the words 'Mission' and 'Jedi Council' were said, you had put a halt to your search mission.

Rex hadn't tried to ask since.

But now, forced to sit by idly, you were mesmerised by the beauty of none other than Fives himself. He was an ARC Trooper for a reason. His shoulders were broad, his waist slim and his thighs - thick and strong and defined from hours of battle and constant training. His tan skin was wet with salty sweat and even saltier water, and if one were to squint hard enough, they could see droplets running down the side of his neck. 

You often found yourself feeling grateful to Jango Fett for having such fine genes.

As if reading your mind, Fives decided to stretch, and in the process flexed his biceps. How big were they?

Was it just you or did it get twenty degrees hotter?

His head slowly turned, and for a moment, you made eye contact. It was quick, but it was still enough to have your heart racing. A smirk stretched across his lips as he caught sight of your blooming blush.

The moment was cut short as Jesse splashed salty water right in his face. You didn't even get a chance to process the expression on his face, the water having wiped it away, as a surprised yelp escaped Fives.

His hand flew to his face, a guttural groan leaving his lips as he swore. His form was hunched over, his hand wiping at his eye.

Before you knew it, you were up and running towards the water, your sunbed abandoned and dusty in your wake.

"Fives?!"

His attention snapped to you at the sound of your voice.

A gasp left your lips.

His eye. The usually tawny skin surrounding his eye had now gained in darker colour, the area a faint red under the sunlight. Tiny, crimson vessels coated his sclera, reaching with thin, curly tendons towards his iris.

Just what was in that water? Surely it shouldn't be this bad.

Jesse was quick to utter apologies, his mouth cast into a downturned smile.

"Jesse it's fine," Fives insisted, "It's nothing." He continued, rubbing at his eye, the corners of his lips fighting an oncoming scowl. His attention quickly diverted from Jesse, focusing on you just as your feet reached the water.

Your body stuttered, your movements faltering as you glanced down at the waves.

Fives eyed you wearily, noticing the hesitation plastered all over your features.

But then in a flash, the water was already hitting your knees, lazily crashing against your waist as you progressed further. Goosebumps rose all over your body, visible under the blaring sun.

Your stomach twisted into a ball of thread, bile rising in your throat. You squeezed the water bottle and towel in your hands, then proceeded to raise your arms into the air like a cheering fan.

The water was now waist-deep, splashing against your torso and swaying your body back and forth.

Pieces of broken pebbles dug into the balls of your feet, and you had to supress the urge to scream when a floating piece of seaweed tickled at your ankles.

A small wheeze left your lips though, and as you reached Fives and looked up, you noticed the concerned expression on Jesse’s face. Was it for Fives or for you? You couldn’t quite tell.

"Let me see." You requested, placing your busy hands on top of Fives’ shoulders.

"General, I'm fine. It's just a bit of water." Fives winced as he attempted an eyeroll, his hands having wrapped around your wrists.

He failed to notice the brief flash of panic in your eyes or the tension in your jaw as the water splashed onto your chest.

"Just a bit of... Water?" You repeated, swallowing harshly. Tugging your hands from his hold, you looked back up at him. "You look like you’re on some hard spice, Trooper. We’ll get your eye rinsed; we don’t know just how safe the water is."

The men behind him had gone awfully quiet, Fives noted as he silently pleaded with you. His eyes searched yours, his head tilting just the slightest. He wasn't a fan of silence, at least not when it came from his squad mates. And he knew all to well that they were watching like hawks, supressing their laughter.

However, as you stood there looking up at him, he couldn’t help but allow his resolve to crumble just a tiny bit. Who could say no to those sweet puppy eyes? Maybe Echo. Most definitely not Fives.

"Alright, lead the way." He finally let up, heaving a sigh. His eye was stinging a bit too much and it’s not like he minded the extra attention from you.

A snicker left one of the men behind you, and Fives was quick to whip his head around, motioning for them to ‘zip it’.

"General?"

"Fives?" You pursed your lips as you looked up at him, though you didn't last long as your gaze faltered, focusing on your primary target, the sunbed. You wouldn’t be rinsing his eye on the sand; it was too hot, and it felt like walking on lava rocks.

“Is it that bad? Or did you just want me all for yourself?” He asked, nudging your side with his elbow.

Wordlessly, you pushed him onto your sunbed.

“Aggressive, I can work with that.”

“Shut it.” You laughed out, shaking your head.

By that point, Rex had slowly begun waking up, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

A confused hum left his lips as he noticed the state of your clothes. They were wet. Soaking wet, in fact.

"General?" His voice was deeper than normal, more guttural as he was recovering from his nap. "Why are you...Wet?"

“No reason, Captain.” You shrugged your shoulders with a wink.

Rex looked to Fives, giving him a confused look. He sat up in his sunbed, crossing his legs and rubbing his face. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”

“First time? First time for what?”

“Oh? Didn’t you know? Our General- “

“Rex.” The way his name rolled off the tip of your tongue had shivers running down his spine. It carried authority and a warning, but the captain was feeling quite daring. His chest puffed up, his whole demeanour changing. This wasn’t your sweet Captain Rex, this was cheeky Cadet Rex, ready to tell the most embarrassing of stories to his brother.

He looked over to Fives, leaning back on his hands.

“Our General over here is terrified of water.” He mused, recalling a specific memory, “On one of our first missions together, we were sent to a swampy planet. The General had us all fooled at first,” He paused, snickering at the displeased expression on your face, “The second a frog swam by, she was screaming and jumping into my arms. Jesse almost blasted the poor thing to bits!”

“Rex!” You exclaimed, throwing the damp rug at him, “You promised not to tell anyone!”

Rex sputtered as the cloth hit him square in the face, launching it into the air in retaliation. “Fives isn’t just anyone! Am I right or am I right?”

Fives looked between the two of you, his brows raised in shock and his eye looking much better.

“General? I’m not just anyone, I’m your favourite ARC Trooper!” He shook his head, pressing a hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you!”

Before you could deny his words or assure him, Rex was already stood by you.

“See General? You hurt his feelings.”

“N- No I didn’t! Fives you are my favourite, just don’t tell anyone, alright?” You pleaded, attempting your best puppy eyes yet. Your attempts faltered as he shook his head, feigning a hurt look.

“I’m not sure, General. You’ll have to make it up to me somehow,” He paused, exchanging mysterious looks with Rex.

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Oh I don’t know.. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” He retorted, pouting at you. Sometimes you forgot just how childish the man could be. You clutched the empty water bottle in your hand, readying it as your next weapon for Rex.

Turning towards him, a fake scowl twisted your expression.

“Don’t look at me like that, General, it’s a waste of a pretty face.” He quickly said, shielding his face as you raised the water bottle. Before it could leave your hands voluntarily though, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

“H- Huh?” A gasp left your lips as your body was swiftly rotated and slung over Fives’ shoulder like a sack of rations. That man really harboured more strength in those biceps than you knew. “Fives? What are you doing?”

“I’m having you repay me! Starting now!” He exclaimed and began moving. Rex moved to his side, keeping in step with Fives. Your eyes widened as the sunbed slowly moved further and further, becoming a distant promise of safety and comfort as salty waves made contact with Fives’ feet.

“Fives! L- Let me go! Please!” Your voice was reaching new peaks, rising higher and higher as you began kicking your legs. “I- I can’t swim!” You continued, lightly hitting his back.

His steps began to slow. You held your breath, leaning your head as far from the water as possible.

“You can’t swim? Are you serious or are you bullshitting me, General?” He asked, looking towards Rex, who only gave him a shrug of his shoulders.

“I promise! Please, please, please don’t go any further.” You pleaded once more, looking over to Rex too. Your hands were clasped together, as if you were praying to the two men. He exchanged glances with Fives, wordlessly communicating.

Rex looked over to you, pursing his lips.

“What’s holding y’guys up?” Hardcase shouted, coming closer and closer. “And since when did the General go into water that isn’t a part of her refresher?” He asked, coming to a stop with the three of you.

“Hardcase! You know I can’t swim! Help me, please!” You began kicking your feet again, leaning your head to the side. Your hands pushed against Fives’ back, attempting to heave yourself off.

His grip on you only tightened, and a squeak was forced from your chest as his palm squeezed your thigh.

“The General is a worse swimmer than me! At her level she isn’t even a swimmer, she’s a sinker!” He exclaimed, pointing to himself, Fives’ shoulders shook as a small laugh escaped him. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, setting your skin aflame.

“Fine, I’ll let you go, but only ‘cause I trust Hardcase.” His voice was gruff as he lifted your body, slowly placing you in the water. Goosebumps attacked your skin once more, but this time from the chilling cold that encased you. Looking up, Fives wore a grin that challenged that of the cheshire cat. “You should see yourself, General. You look like an angry loth cat.” He said, pinching your cheek with one hand as the other rested on your waist, his hold firm but gentle, his thumb caressing your waist in small, centred circles.

Swatting his hand away, you looked back down to the water. It rested just below your hips but would venture higher up as the waves moved back and forth.

“D’you wanna go further?” Fives asked, his voice much closer now. Looking around, you noticed that Rex and the others had moved further into the water, where it now reached their chests.

Shaking your head, you turned back to Fives. “I can’t swim, plus I don’t have the same height advantage as you,” You paused, pointing to the others, “I’d be under water where they are now.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, crows’ feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes. Your hands rose to his chest, steadying yourself as a rogue wave lifted your feet off the ground.

“C’mon, you can sit on my shoulders? I’m sure the others would be more than happy to have you around.” He asked, giving your waist a faint squeeze.

You took a moment to think over his proposition. Sure, being on his shoulders would mean you get to, mostly, stay out of the water. But what if you fell off? You cringed at the thought of water invading your nose, burning your windpipe and choking you from the inside out.

“I- I don’t know…” You paused.

Slowly, you looked up, your breath hitching in your throat. He was already watching you, admiring the tiny expressions you made as you watched his brothers. There was this smitten look resting across his face, as if you were the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen.

His face was so close, his body slightly brushing against your own. His scent invaded your senses, so much so you could almost taste it on the tip of your tongue.

The sunlight reflected in his eyes, outlining the different shapes and shades as if you were looking into a kaleidoscope. His irises had this gorgeous colour of warm honey, and they sparkled like a pair of amber crystals under the soft sunrays.

His skin glowed under the warmth, the rich olive colour becoming tanner the longer he sat outside of his armour, making Fives look healthier and happier. All of the men, in fact. Though their armour kept them safe and sound, you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of them. They were in their zone.

Fives’ hand moved up to your face, his eyes concentrated on a stray piece of hair. The soft smile kept playing at his lips, never fully going but never fully staying.

There was a tension in his jaw, however, as his fingers toyed with your hair. It was like he was holding something back.

He moved the strand away, gently tucking it behind your ear, as best as it would go anyway.

“You’re gorgeous, cyar’ika.” His words came out as a whispered prayer, his gaze so tender and loving as he caressed your cheek with his knuckles.

It was as if your brain short-circuited again; his words dropped on you like a heavy boulder, so sudden, and yet your heartbeat was now racing a thousand miles per hour. Your breath was caught in your throat, and your mouth suddenly felt dry. Was this normal? Were you panicking or were you blushing? Were you going crazy? What was happening?

“F- Fives…” You whispered, your grip on his chest tightening. You never expected those words to come from him, or anyone at all. They weren’t meant for you. But if so, why did they make you so happy? So ecstatic and why did he make you swoon so hard?

He leaned his face a tad closer, just enough for you to feel his breath fanning over your lips.

You could feel his warmth, it was comparable to the sun itself. It rode in your veins, it had your blood bubbling up in excitement the longer he looked at you. You were just a small planet orbiting his sun, being pulled in closer and closer until all you could feel was the heat and the burn of him.

His tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip, ridding it of dryness and discomfort.

But that small action had you going wild, feral even.

In that split moment, your gaze flickered to his lips. For a man who spent the majority of his life on a battlefield, his lips sure looked plump and made just for kissing.

It was like you were gravitating towards him, like a comet curve-balling around his planet, entangling around his soul and burning brightly at each twist and pull. His hold on you had your legs melting, as if you were nothing but a shard of ice, being thawed away at by his warm touch and sweetly whispered nothings.

His hand tilted your jaw, just enough for your lips to rest an inch from his. Any closer, and you’d be kissing, melting into one another.

Before either of you could do more, say more, the distant voice of Hardcase called out to you.

“Are you two comin’ or what?!” He shouted, cupping his mouth with both hands.

You jolted in your spot, effectively snapping out of whatever spell the man before you had cast on you. Clearly, he had been put under a spell too as his hands retracted and his posture stiffened.

“We’re on our way!” He shouted back, waving Hardcase off. His attention quickly returned to you, but the spell was now gone.

A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed it down with struggle.

Uncertainty and fear tugged at your heartstrings, and Fives knew exactly what that meant.

“G- General-“

“I need to go.” Your voice was meek and shallow as you retracted from his touch, as if he left your skin with painful burns and sears wherever his fingertips touched. “Alone.” You continued, placing a hesitant palm on his chest as Fives attempted to follow you.

This couldn’t be happening.

With your back turned to him and your figure disappearing into the distance, Fives couldn’t help but curse under his breath. His lips slightly agape, he stood in the same spot you left him in just moments ago.

How could he have ruined everything in such a short amount of time?

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Bookbinding: Corrie Red by musicmillenia

Finished my first quatro! Corrie Red by musicmillennia (@wreathedinscales) is an excellent fic for anyone who enjoys Clone Wars and Lovecraftian horror. I had a really fun time designing the cover on this one - trees and blood play a heavy role to the plot so I found a branch pattern I could cut up that also looked similar to veins. I discovered by accident a while back that if you don't let leather dye sit for 24+ hours before sealing, it will bleed into the sealant and give you a rust-like look. This time I tried to do it on purpose and it turned out pretty much exactly like I wanted! Could have bled a bit more, but I'm happy with the results.

Some folks have made some amazing fanart for this series, so I made sure to incorporate it when possible. What I couldn't match to scenes is in a gallery section.

Fonts used in this project include:

FStein (title and chapter headings)

Minion Pro (body)

R'lyehian (linebreaks - yes, it spells Corrie Red because I wasn't feeling inventive)

Courier New (medical logs later on in the story)

This was also a great project learning how printers translate different colors of black and white and what they do with that when printing. If anyone knows how to convince my printer it didn't need to give a very gentle highlight to the quotes at the beginning of each chapter, I would love to hear about it.

A big thank you to musicmillennia/@wreathedinscales for writing such a fantastic story! This series has been so fun to follow and see what it inspires.