#cloneshipping fic

[loverboy-havocboy]

*slams fist on ur blog* 11 FOR CODEX

a kiss to the neck - cody/rex

full story (~1500 words) on ao3

Cody?

Codes.

Co-

“-dy, wake up. It's a nightmare.”

Cody's chest heaves violently as he breaks the surface of sleep, plunging upward into the waking world with a ragged gasp.

A nightmare, the voice tells him. He doesn't remember having a nightmare.

He can't tell where the voice is coming from - not in the darkened barracks, and certainly not in his disoriented state. This feels just like dive training. Like being submerged in the churning seas of Kamino until the only thought your brain can conjure, repeatedly and desperately, is how much your lungs burn; how much you need air and can't have it, because to breathe in is to die. Like finally getting your head above the waves only to be blinded by the rush of salt-thick water running from your curls into your eyes, then into your mouth.

But water is cold.

What he feels now - this is warm. This is- this is blood.

[wolveria]

Really side-eyeing the folks who write Bad Batch group sex x reader fics and are ADAMANT it's all plantonic brotherly love. Like not sure how you can maintain 5 brothers fucking one person and not have any balls touching, but okay then.

[elthadriel]

Five Times Cody Didn’t Score and One Time He Did

Author: @elthadriel Artist: @chocomars Beta: @trudemaethien

Created for @clonebang

Summary: Everyone needs a coping mechanism to deal with the horrifying reality of being a replaceable cog in the machinery of a galactic war. For Cody, it’s playing hopscotch with the line between professionalism and insubordination. For Rex, it’s an irredeemable obsession with space football. For their friends, it’s apparently playing peanut gallery to their relationship.

Snapshots of Cody and Rex’s relationship throughout the war and beyond overshadowed by Rex’s love of limmie and Cody’s inability to understand it.

Read on Ao3

[sergeantgoggles]

Prompt: Cuddle Ship: Fox/Fives Rated: G .

Fox doesn’t cuddle, especially with overly cocky, bratty ARC Troopers with obnoxiously charming smiles. 

“They let you get away with this in the five hundred and first?” He sneers as his face is pressed into Fives’s bare chest, and he admits that maybe it’s kind of nice to feel this sort of intimate contact outside of needy, desperate sex. 

“And more,” Fives chuckles as he cards his fingers through the guard’s hair, slick with sweat from previous activities. 

“Disgusting,” Fox replies with a soft sigh, and decides maybe it’s not so bad to cuddle after all. 

[cloneshipficquotes]

“Swiped something from the senators’ break room.” He wiggles the box, and Fox takes it, his curiosity overriding his annoyance at being interrupted. He’s careful with the silky red ribbon tied around it, the crisp white tissue paper inside.

Caf additives, the expensive kind. Flavours he loves – caramel, vanilla, hazelnut – and ones he’s never seen before. White chocolate raspberry… now that’s a thought. He’s a little bit tempted to just pour that directly into his mouth.

“Sooo,” Stone prompts, nudging a toe against his.

“Thank you,” Fox whispers as he looks up. He’s not good at saying what he wants out loud. What he has. What he’s so scared of losing, if anyone finds out. He’s not sure what he’s hiding. Just all of himself, really. Except in moments like this. “Stone, I’m… You’re… This…” He stops, helpless, with no words to describe what the gift means to him, never mind the man behind it.

— lizardwrites, from can you make it feel like home if i tell you you're mine

[cacodaemonia]

Fic Self-Recs

Fic authors self rec! List your favorite five fics that you've written, then tag at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

(Yes, this was originally an ask game, but I know some folks, myself included, have closed asks due to spam, so I guess it's a tag game now 😂)

Thanks for the tag, @elismor! These kinds of things are always so tough, haha (also, it could be kind of cool if there was an art version, since most of these tag things are focused on fics...)

My Heart's Red Muscle - (E, for one smut scene) I think this is probably my best fic, and also one of the longest. Cyborg!Waxer has no memories of his life before he came online. Paired with ARF trooper Boil, who doesn't seem to know what to do with him, Waxer has no idea how to fit in among clones when he's so very different. As he makes connections with those around him, he and Boil try to figure out who he might have been—and more importantly, who he is now.

Kinktober 2022 - (E, obviously) Set in the giant Open Skies AU. Where's that Trojan Horse smut post... Yeah so the fic is basically this for Waxer/Boil 😂

We Could Breathe Underwater - (T) What if shiny Waxer and Boil were both a bit Force-sensitive, and—oopsie, created a Force bond?

Interference - (T) Set in the RCAU/Open Skies AU, but it can be read as a standalone. It follows some OCs and canon characters as they figure out what Krell is up to on Umbara. The problem is that Torrent Company and Waxer's platoon are already on a collision course...

Fading Light and Cooling Space - (T, but heed the tags on this one) After Boil suffers through the horrifying events on Umbara, something nudges him to steal a strange necklace from Krell's body that teleports him to an even stranger place (and time?).

The last two fics are a bit older, so I'm sure they have a lot of room for technical improvement, but I still like them overall.

No-pressure tags: @lizardberries @theproblemwithstardust @come-chaos @valkeakuulas @whiskygoldwings

@marbled-polecat @petrifiedforests

[adhd-coyote]

Why hello there!!! My dear partner in kissing prompts! Could I ask for Fox/Thorn with 18 - a kiss while laughing please??? ❤️🤍

Hehe yes indeed you may ask!! These two were an absolute delight to write, I love them so much

-

“You have freckles,” Thorn noted, idly tracing their thumb along the scar that ran down Fox’s jaw. This wasn’t the first time they’d stared at Fox’s face, and it certainly wasn’t the first time they’d noticed Fox’s freckles, but right now, snuggled up warm and safe in their bunk with plenty of time to kill, an idea popped into Thorn’s head.

“Really?” Fox tugged Thorn’s hand closer to nuzzle their palm. Despite the softness of the gesture, his voice was dripping with sarcasm when he continued, “I never noticed.”

Thorn snorted, rolling their eyes, untucked themself from Fox’s side to climb on top of him, and tangled their legs to prevent Fox from escaping. Fox raised an eyebrow, unamused but curious. “What are you doing, Thorn?”

“Gonna count ‘em.”

Fox’s second eyebrow joined the first. “You’re going to count my freckles?”

“Yep.” Thorn popped the ‘p’ and settled down, arms framing Fox’s face. “Needed to make sure I had a good angle.”

“A good angle.” There was that amused smirk that made Thorn’s heart flutter in their chest. A sharp, subtle curl of lips, like the knives Fox kept up his sleeve. “Cyare, you can barely even keep track of your hair products, how’re you gonna manage to keep count my freckles?”

“Hey! I keep track of my hair products just fine, thank you very much,” Thorn sniffed indignantly. “Now hold still so I can see.”

Fox obliged, exasperated but willing to indulge them, as always. Thorn grinned and leaned forward to nuzzle, overcome with affection, before pulling back enough to see.

“One,” they pressed a kiss to a freckle on Fox’s nose, “two,” under his eye, “three,” the center of his cheek, “four,” the corner of his mouth, “fi-”

“Are you going to kiss all of them?” Fox asked incredulously. Thorn groaned and bumped their foreheads together.

“Yes, of course I am! And don’t interrupt, otherwise I’m gonna have to start over.”

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna lose track.”

“Well I will if you distract me, Foxy. Now where was I?”

“You were on five,” Fox snickered, eyes sparkling with fond amusement. “Or maybe six? Or seven?”

Thorn’s nose wrinkled as they glared without heat. “You’re a menace. It was five.”

Fox grinned, canines flashing. “Was it? How sure are you about that, cyare? Are you absolutely positive?”

“You’re either stalling, or you’re trying to make me start over so you can get more kisses,” Thorn accused.

“Oh? Which one is it, then, hm?”

“I’m not answering that. Hush.” Thorn pressed a kiss to a freckle on the corner of Fox’s mouth. “One,” the crease in his brow, “two,” his jaw, “three-”

“So you did have to start over,” Fox cut them off again, eyes dancing with playful mischief.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“But we already did that today, Thorn’ika.”

“You os’ika-”

Fox laughed. Clear, bright, and loud. It was a rare sound, what with the stress of their lives, and it sent sparks of warmth and love shooting through Thorn’s chest. They pressed forward into a proper kiss, drinking that sound in, craving more of it, and Fox responded in kind, until they were both breathless and panting and grinning like idiots.

“You missed.”

Thorn blinked. “Huh?”

“There aren’t any freckles on my mouth, Thorn’ika,” Fox explained, teasing. “You missed.”

“A menace,” Thorn declared again, rolling their eyes. “Now shut up and hold still. One-”

-

Kiss ask game

[letshareapapou]

@hobbititties I deleted your ask on accident trying to post IM SORRY but it's a

TREAT~

I just loved your fic ;)

[five-oh-thirst]

In Your Head

Pairing: Fox/Thorn

Summary: Fox has a hole in his memory that he can't seem to fix, and when he starts hallucinating about the clone he killed, it leads to dire consequences.

Tags & Warnings: 18+, character death, alcohol, drunkenness, hallucinations, paranoia, minor suicidal ideation, violence, whump

Word Count: 6.4k

Notes: So, this is a fic I wrote on my non-cloneshipping blog, and I repurposed it into a cloneship fic. All that I ask is that you please don't go looking for the original. I want to keep my two identities a secret. Thank you in advance 💙🫶💙

Read on AO3

Music Vibe:

Fox sat hunched over his desk and anxiously rapped his stylus against the side of his data-pad. He'd read the report five times now and each pass yielded the same results. His CC number was littered throughout the paragraphs, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember any of it.

He looked up at the chronometer again and shook his head. Time had moved, but he hadn't. He'd been sitting here at his desk doing flimsi-work since early morning, but the report stated otherwise.

It wasn't just the strange lost time that concerned Fox either, or the fact that his CC number was in a report. That was normal. What bothered him about this report was the fact that it clearly stated in paragraph four, line six, that he shot and killed a clone.

And no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't remember it. He hadn't moved from his desk, and yet, the timestamp put the incident at an hour ago. An hour ago he was at his desk. An hour ago he was doing flimsi-work.

Fox rapped his stylus faster and tapped his foot to match the rhythm, the nervous energy in his body escaping through the repetitive movements. He wouldn't shoot a clone without a reason, would he?

The Coruscant Guard had stunned countless rowdy reckless, and even dangerous clones, but a brother doesn't shoot another brother with the intent to kill. That's not part of their culture. Even 'bad' clones deserved to explain their actions, but those were few and far between.

It must've been a mistake–a typo. There had to be a logical explanation as to why his CC number was in the report even though he wasn't there. Still, he had this odd sinking feeling scratching at the back of his mind that it might not have been a mistake.

The clone he allegedly shot was from the 501st, from Torrent Company–one of Rex's men. Fox had sent a simple comm message to Rex offering his condolence, but Rex's silence worried him. It wasn't like Rex to leave a comm unanswered.

Fox dropped the data-pad onto his desk with a loud clack and his chair creaked when he leaned back. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and brushed the damp curls out of his eyes. It must have been a mistake. There was no other explanation.

He didn't have an explanation for the lost time, but there must've been a reason for that as well. Maybe he fell asleep. It's not impossible since he didn't get the best sleep. His caf was cold, so obviously time had passed since he last filled it.

The data-pad dinged and Fox leaned forward to see what the notification was for. He sighed and tapped on the icon to open it, and his brows furrowed as he read the new information. A surveillance holo-recording of the incident was now available and had been attached to the report.

Fox huffed. This should clear up everything. He tapped the icon to play the recording and watched intently. It was probably some trigger-happy shiny that he'd have a stern talking to later on… but it wasn't.

Fox's breath hitched and his eyes widened. That wasn't some random corrie. That was him. That was his armor. He had the fleeting thought that someone had stolen his armor and impersonated him, but he quickly realized he was still wearing it. He hadn't taken it off since he put it on that morning.

Panic rose in his gut and he continued to watch the recording. He flinched at the moment he pulled the trigger–a blaster bolt leaving the barrel instead of a stun bolt. He killed him. He killed a brother.

That explained why Rex never commed him back. Rex's emotional plea before the incident, Fox don't! stabbed him in the heart, turning his innocent condolence message into him just rubbing salt into an already egregious wound. The report noted the clone killed was ARC-5555–Fives–one of Rex's best men.

Fox only remembered the name because Rex sent him a holo-photo of his two new ARC troopers when they graduated. Rex was so proud. Then he lost one on Lola Sayu, and today, he lost the other–because of him.

Fox had seen and read enough. It was him, he knew that much, but he still didn't remember being there. He didn't remember aiming his blaster, or flicking the safety off, or giving a warning, or pulling the trigger. It was like he was sleepwalking, even though not a single clone out of millions had ever been noted to do so on record.

He found it even more odd that he was on-scene for the shooting and then left. It wasn't like him to leave a scene without getting statements or starting his report. Now that he thought about it, he didn't even write this report. If he didn't, then who did?

Fox yelled in frustration and kicked the leg of his desk. Why couldn't he remember? How could he have forgotten he shot and killed a brother? How could he have forgotten Rex's voice begging him not to? How could he have forgotten leaving his office or coming back?

Fox felt sick. Not only had he killed a brother, but he also killed one of Rex's–a beloved brother. With Rex's radio silence, he probably lost Rex too. Fox didn't blame him. Not after watching the footage. He would hate himself too, and he did.

Fox pulled a ring of keys from his belt pouch and inserted one into the lock on the bottom desk drawer. It clicked and he pulled it open, revealing a small stash of alcohol resting against the back. The glass bottles clinked together as he searched for a specific one.

Finding it, he pulled it out of the drawer and placed it on his desk. He leaned down to grab a glass, hesitated, then closed the drawer without taking it. He twisted the cap off the bottle, grabbed the neck, and tilted the opening to his lips. It was time to forget even more.

"Fox?" Thorn whispered as he peered into the dark office. "Are you in here?"

Fox groaned in response. His torso rested on top of his desk and the side of his face lay on the cool surface with one hand loosely wrapped around an almost empty glass bottle.

Thorn sighed and shook his head. "What are you doing, Fox?"

"Go away," Fox said, his words slurred and his body twitched.

Thorn ignored Fox's inebriated order and pulled up a chair to sit opposite the desk. "Talk to me."

"Nothin'... to talk about."

"You're drunk while on duty," Thorn said. He grabbed the bottle out of Fox's loose grip and set it out of reach. "Why don't we start with that?"

Fox slowly picked his head up to look at Thorn, and he struggled to keep it steady. "Usen'ye," he spat, then laid his head back down on the desk so the room would stop spinning.

Thorn tapped his fingers against the desk surface next to Fox's head to get his attention and Fox flinched at the magnified sound. "I read the report."

Fox groaned, but this time with more indignation.

Thorn crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. "I've got all night."

"You're so… annoying," Fox said as he slowly picked his head back up to look at his stupid boyfriend. "You know… that?"

Thorn smirked. "Part of my charm."

"Kark… ing… banthas… have more charm." Fox's head swayed as he tried to keep it upright. "You're ugly… too."

Thorn rolled his eyes. "You're getting off topic."

"Why… are you… even here?" Fox asked. He reached for the bottle and Thorn leaned over to move it again.

"You killed a vod," Thorn said flatly.

Fox huffed. "What... do you… know about it?"

"Nothing," Thorn said with a shrug. "That's why I'm here. To talk to you about it, because clearly it's affecting you."

Fox reached for the bottle again and Thorn moved it again. "I'm… not effective."

Thorn raised an eyebrow, stifling a chuckle. "Yeah, I can see that. You can't even talk straight."

"Blow it out your… exhaust port," Fox said, then reached for the bottle once more.

"Really?" Thorn asked, clearly annoyed at the silent game they were playing. He lifted the bottle out of Fox's reach. "If I give you the bottle back, will you talk to me?"

Fox smirked through heavy-lidded eyes. "Sure."

Thorn placed the bottle back down onto the desk and pushed it towards Fox. Fox grabbed it, sat back in his chair, and shot the last burning drops down his throat, then slammed the empty bottle down onto the desk.

"Talk," Thorn said. "Why'd you kill a vod?"

Fox chuckled. "I don't know."

Thorn knitted his brow. "This isn't a game, Fox."

"Nah," Fox said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Games… are fun. This... This isn't..."

Thorn tilted his head to the side and studied Fox for a moment. Even when drunk, Fox usually made some sense, but this particular time he was making zero sense. It wasn't that hard of a question, but his avoidance of answering it was making Thorn worry.

There was something Fox wasn't telling him and he needed to know what it was to help him get out of this slump and back to normal. Having a drunk Marshall Commander leading the Coruscant Guard wasn't going to get anyone anywhere fast. 

"Fox," Thorn prodded.

"Don't Fox me," Fox said. "How'd you… like it… if I said your name? Thorn. Thorn. Thorn. Thorn–"

"Alright, I get it," Thorn said. "Just tell me what happened."

Fox shrugged. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember shooting a vod?"

"Nope."

Thorn pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "You have to remember something? You killed him. Don't you remember that? Were you drunk then, too?"

"No, I wasn't drunk," Fox said, his agitation grew at the continued questioning. "I just don't remember!" He pounded his fists onto the desk, causing Thorn to flinch.

"Easy, cyare," Thorn soothed. He reached out a hand to try and calm him down. "It's okay."

"No!" Fox yelled. His body jerked weakly as he batted Thorn's hand away. "Is snot. I shot… a vod. I killed… a vod, and I can't… kriffin' remember!"

Thorn realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with Fox this drunk and worked up, so he decided to cut his losses and try again later. "Get some rest," he said before getting up from his chair. He looked down at Fox's dilapidated state, shook his head, then turned to leave.

"Bring me… more booze," Fox said.

Thorn turned around and scoffed. "You don't need any more of that."

Fox grabbed the empty bottle and threw it towards Thorn, but it hit the wall by the door instead and shattered into a million pieces. "Shabuir."

Thorn sighed. "We'll talk again when you're sober." He turned back towards the door and left Fox alone in his office.

Fox grumbled and laid his heavy head back down against the cool desk. He wasn't truly angry at Thorn, as annoying as he was. No. He was angry at himself. Angry that he couldn't remember what his own two hands did. Angry that he couldn't remember where his own two feet took him. Angry that his brain refused to put all of the pieces together or fill in the blanks. Where had his memory gone? Had it grown legs and walked away from him? Had it left him or did he leave it? Was that even possible?

Fox would stay lying against his desk all night if he could, but the ache in his back was beginning to overpower his drunken haze. Part of getting old, he guessed. He needed to try and make it to his couch where he could stretch out and fall asleep.

At least while asleep, he wouldn't have to think about it. That was the idea behind the alcohol in the first place; drink to forget, but it didn't have the effect he was hoping for. If anything, it only made it worse. Then his beloved Thorn butted in and ruined it further.

Fox tried to peel himself off his desk, but his body was heavy. He managed to sit up, but then slumped back into his chair, whacking his head against the back of it. He groaned at the pain and rubbed the aching spot.

When he opened his eyes, the room was spinning, and it made him feel sick. Well, sicker than he already felt before he was drunk. He chuckled to himself. The good stuff was really good. He hadn't been this drunk since he was a shiny new commander hot off Kamino.

Trying again, Fox planted his hands squarely on his desk and rocked to push himself out of the chair. He tried once and couldn't get it. He tried twice and still couldn't get it. He tried thrice and finally, he was on his feet, although he used a little too much force and fell forward onto his desk. Maybe it was better if he crawled to the couch instead of walking there. He let the weight of his lower body slide the rest of him off the desk until he was sitting on the ground and leaning against the desk.

He leaned past the desk and turned his head to see where the couch was, but he leaned a little too far and slumped over onto the ground. He groaned. This was a terrible idea. He wished he could get Thorn to come back and carry him to the couch, but that would bruise his ego into an irreparable state. No, he had to make it on his own.

With a little wiggle of his hips, Fox rolled himself onto his stomach and crawled towards the couch. Usually, it was closer, but right now it felt klicks away. Maker, he was tired. Why did he put the couch so far away from his desk? Or better yet, why couldn't it come to him?

Someone should've invented a moving couch by now, but no, the Galactic Republic was too busy making clones to do anything of real use in his lifetime. And yet, Fox continued to crawl towards his couch, cursing it every time he scooted closer. With one final push, he made it, but accidentally bumped his head against the leg. He cursed it again.

Now, it was just a matter of hoisting himself up onto the stupid thing so he could finally go to sleep. Once again, something that used to be so trivial was causing him grief. Why was it so high up? Why was the floor so far down? Why wouldn't the room stop spinning?

He wished he could steady himself long enough to get a grip, but his body was heavy from the alcohol. However, with a little more effort and a lot more cursing, Fox grabbed one of the cushions, pulled himself up, and flopped onto the couch.

Thank the Maker, he finally made it. Fox rolled off of his stomach and settled himself with his back against the back of the couch so he didn't suffocate himself within the couch cushions. Although, at this point, it didn't sound like such a bad idea.

He chuckled to himself about the thought. Thorn would kill him if he left him like that. Only his boyfriend would find a way into the afterlife and kill him all over again for being such an idiot. Although, to Fox, it was a comforting thought; Thorn coming after him like that.

Even if they tried to hide it from everyone, they were still a couple. Some days, when they fought, it didn't feel like it, but when push came to shove, there was no one he'd rather have his back in this war. Perks of growing up together and falling in love, he figured.

Fox released a wide yawn that made his stomach churn, but he was happy that his body wanted to rest. With a few slow breaths, he let himself drift off to sleep, wondering if he would wake up and finally remember or if his memory would still be adrift.

Fox groaned as he stirred from his sleep. He slowly opened one eye and saw that it was still dark out, which meant either he slept until the next evening or he barely slept at all. He didn't feel drunk anymore, so maybe he did sleep for a while; an absolute miracle.

Even more surprising was the fact that no one bothered him while he slept, which also meant Thorn kept everyone away and covered for him–the idiot. He'd need to apologize and thank Thorn the next time he saw him.

Fox carefully shifted to sit himself up, holding the side of his head as it pounded from the hangover. He hadn't had a hangover like this in a very long time. He'd have to look at the label on the bottle and get himself another one of whatever it was.

Blinking a few times to get rid of the glaze over his eyes, he looked around the room but frowned when he saw the broken glass by the door. Oh yeah. I broke it. He wouldn't buy another one of those anytime soon. Such a shame.

With a deep breath, Fox hoisted himself up off the couch and grabbed the arm to steady his shaky legs. He didn't feel woozy, but his body still felt heavy, like there were rocks in his head weighing him down.

He rolled his neck, then his shoulders, and then arched his back to stretch it out. One of his vertebrae made a popping sound and he groaned. Even though he tried to lie down in a good position, couch sleeping was still not as nice as a bunk. He needed some ibuprofen.

Fox hobbled his way to the refresher connected to his office and was–once again–thankful for the amenities he had access to as the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard. It would've been embarrassing to walk down to the guard barrack's communal refresher to compose himself.

Thorn would've gotten a good laugh, though, the jerk. He would have said something stupid just to piss him off. But that was the game they chose to play because Fox had embarrassed Thorn on multiple occasions too.

Fox stepped into the refresher without flipping the light switch on and twisted the faucet knob to run the water cold. He cupped the rushing water in his hands and splashed it onto his face. The cool water felt good on his hot skin and soothed his throbbing headache.

He splashed the water on his face a few more times and then used one last good splash to smooth over his unruly curls. He patted his face dry with the towel and stared at himself in the mirror, except something about his reflection was… off.

Fox rubbed the towel across his face again, thinking he had some water stuck in his eyes that made his vision blurry, but the reflection still looked odd. He then used the towel to wipe down the mirror, leaving small streaks of water where he swiped, but that didn't clear it either.

Refusing to play with it any longer, Fox opened the mirror cabinet and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen. He popped a few and swallowed them dry, wincing as he felt them go down his throat, and then closed the cabinet.

Hi Fox, a voice said.

Fox startled and stumbled back, crashing against the opposite wall with a loud thud. "Kriff, Thorn!" He turned his head towards the refresher door to rip Thorn a new one, but he wasn't there. "Thorn?" he called, but there was no answer.

He peeked his head out of the refresher to see if there was anyone in his office, but it was still dark and empty. It was just him; he was alone. He'd never had a hangover that made him hear things before. At least not that he remembered. Fox's heart raced with adrenaline.

Fox, the voice said.

Fox flinched at the sound of his name and whipped his head around to try and find who was calling his name, but there was still no one there. "Thorn," Fox said with a warning tone. "I swear to the Maker, I will kill you if–"

So, you like to kill, huh? the voice said.

Fox froze and his blood ran cold. He didn't just hear that, did he? The sound of another clone talking to him, yet he was still alone in the refresher. His instincts screamed at him to run and find Thorn, because clearly he was hallucinating, or sick, or dying, or all three at once. He shouldn't have been hearing voices, or at least he didn't think he should've been hearing voices.

Fox closed his eyes took a couple deep breaths to calm himself and hoped that whatever it was would go away.

It's rude to ignore people, you know, the voice said. Especially dead people.

Yup, he was crazy. He was one hundred percent certified crazy. Not only was he hearing voices, but he was hearing voices of the dead . What had he done while he was drunk and asleep? Conjured a demon? Summoned a spirit? Invited a deity to chat over some caf? The other option was that he was still plastered and hallucinating being sober. Honestly, both ideas sounded equally as insane, but did they make any less sense than him hearing voices?

"Whatever you are," Fox said. "I'm sorry for bothering you, but I'm going back to bed now."

Fox pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the refresher door to leave, but it slid shut before he could exit. He stared at the closed door and took another deep breath, then released it slowly.

He slid his hands over his holsters, but the blasters were missing. They must have fallen out while he was sleeping and he never noticed. He mentally kicked himself for being so absentminded as to leave them on the couch, but in his defense, there weren't many who would attack him in his own office.

Fox ran his tongue across his teeth and puffed his chest out before turning around to face whatever was messing with him, but when he did, there was no one else in the refresher besides himself. He bit his lip and nodded his head.

It must've been a dream. He was living in a dream and he couldn't wake up. That had to be the answer. There was no other explanation. Once he woke up, he was going to find Thorn and make him get rid of all of his liquor, because this nuttiness wasn't worth the trip.

I'm still waiting, the voice said impatiently. Are you gonna answer me or not?

Fox gritted his teeth and thought for a moment. If he answered the voice of the dead, was something bad going to happen to him? It wasn't like his life could get any worse. He was already a dog of the Republic, he'd shot and killed a brother, and he was probably the most hated commander in the GAR. There wasn't much else they could do to him.

Fox was startled at the sudden realization. The voice of the dead… a dead clone. Voice of the dead… a clone he killed. Fox's heartbeat pounded ferociously in his ears.

He took a few steps towards the sink and peered into the mirror, the same mirror where his reflection didn't look right. He was so groggy when he first came into the refresher that it didn't dawn on him to wonder what in the reflection was off, just that it didn't look right.

He stared at his reflection, and tilted his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows as he studied the image, and then his eyes grew wide when he realized that the reflection hadn't followed the tilt of his head. He moved in closer.

Boo, the reflection said with a smirk.

"Kriffin' osik!" Fox screamed and out of reflex, he punched the mirror, cracking it. He heaved in heavy breaths and pulled his fist out of the mirror, his glove protecting his skin from getting cut by the broken shards.

The reflection sighed and sidestepped into the part of the mirror that wasn't as broken. Really?

Fox was on the verge of hyperventilating. Fear and adrenaline took control of every muscle in his body. His reflection was talking to him. It was moving without him. But it wasn't even him. He could see that now.

Fox took a moment to study the image in the mirror. The armor was white, like a shiny's, their head was shaven, and they had a goatee, and an Aurebesh tattoo on their right temple not far from a small linear scar. Fox's jaw dropped. It was him . It was the clone he'd shot and killed.

Figure it out yet? the reflection asked, sounding bored.

"You're…" Fox tried to speak, but he still wasn't sure what he was actually seeing.

The name's Fives, the reflection said while tapping his Aurebesh tattoo. You should remember since you killed me.

Fox was speechless and wide-eyed. He felt sick to his stomach. He knew who Fives was, but he still didn't remember shooting him. He never even met him, and the only images he had of him were in his ARC armor, not whatever he was wearing now.

Fox thought back to the recording that was attached to the report and remembered seeing himself shoot the white-armored clone. He had found it strange at the time, and it made him wonder why, but not enough to hallucinate about him.

"This isn't real," Fox said as he backed away from the mirror. " You're not real! You're dead!"

The reflection snorted. What? No remorse? No, sorry I killed you?

"I don't remember killing you!" Fox yelled, half in shock and half in self-defense. His back touched the hard durasteel wall and he slid down it until he was sitting on the floor.

Don't remember? the reflection asked. You shot me! How could you forget that?

Fox pulled his knees to his chest, clasped his hands over his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Just leave me alone!" he yelled again, trying to make the voice go away. "I said I don't remember!"

I'm not leaving, the voice said. Not until you remember what you did to me.

"Go away!" Fox screamed. "Leave me alone!" His breathing became labored and he felt like he was going to pass out. "This is… a nightmare."

Oh, Fox, the reflection chuckled, then pushed itself out of the mirror and folded its arms to lean on the edge of the sink and stare down at Fox. Your nightmare has just begun.

The next two rotations had Fox feeling insane. The voice inside the mirror wasn't just a voice anymore. It was a full-body apparition that followed him around wherever he went. He couldn't even take a piss without that thing watching him.

He still wondered if it was the actual Fives or if it was just a figment of his imagination; maybe the subconscious part of his brain conjured it up because of the guilt he felt for killing the clone. He wanted to tell Thorn about it, but even he had limits on disbelief, and besides that, he was at some senate event so he hadn't seen him since he threw the bottle at him.

Hour after hour, the apparition asked Fox if he remembered killing it yet, and hour after hour, Fox still had the same answer–no. Maker, he wished it would just take a hike and go haunt someone else, even if it was just for a couple of minutes. He needed peace.

There was nothing worse than trying to work or sleep while it watched him from across the room with its cold, dark, dead eyes and smug expression. If this was the real Fives, then he didn't understand why Rex liked him so much. He was an annoying piece of work for sure.

However, the third rotation was strangely quiet. The apparition was nowhere to be seen, or heard, and Fox was taking the much-needed alone time to catch up on the reports he'd been neglecting since it first appeared. It must have been a figment of his imagination brought on by stress or something along those lines. There was always a logical explanation for everything, or so he thought.

Fox looked up from his data-pad when he heard a soft knock on his office door frame.

"I brought you some caf," Thorn said with a smile. "Can I come in?"

Fox nodded. He was glad Thorn was back from the event, even if he didn't say it out loud.

Thorn walked into the office, placed the cup down in front of Fox, and sat leisurely on the corner of his desk.

Fox grabbed the cup of hot, black caf and deeply inhaled its alluring aroma. "Is this a peace offering?"

Thorn snorted. "You should be bringing me a peace offering for all that name-calling."

Fox winced at the vague memory, then took a sip. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted," Thorn says. "You're still a di'kut, though."

"Your di'kut," Fox smirked.

Is he a friend of yours? the apparition asked as it appeared next to Fox.

Fox startled and accidentally dropped the cup of caf onto his lap. "Kriff!"

Thorn also startled and jumped off the corner of Fox's desk. "Are you alright?"

Fox sighed. "Yeah. Just grab me a towel, will ya?"

Thorn walked off towards the refresher to grab a towel.

He seems like a nice vod, the apparition said as it watched Thorn with interest. Is he your cyare?

Fox chose to ignore the question and the ghost.

You know, the apparition continued. It hopped up onto the desk to sit in front of Fox, legs dangling over the edge. I had a cyare once–actually two. They're both dead, now… Like me. Must be nice to have yours still alive, huh?

Fox glared at the apparition and snarled. "Don't you touch him!"

The apparition chuckled. I'm a ghost, remember? I can't even touch you. The apparition reached out to touch Fox, but its hand went straight through him. See? I'm not going to hurt your cyare.

Fox continued to glare, not fully trusting what the apparition said. Thorn was more than just his boyfriend, but this was his issue to deal with, and he wasn't going to drag Thorn down this insane hole of guilt and self-loathing with him. 

Even so, it would be great if Thorn could see the apparition too. Maybe then, he wouldn't feel so crazy about the whole situation. A little validation went a long way in his mind. He just needed Thorn to see it once, then he could feel safe again–feel normal again.

"Fox?" Thorn asked with concern while handing him the towel. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Fox grabbed the towel and patted himself and the chair dry. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Thorn didn't look convinced, but he also didn't argue.

I'm not fine, the apparition said. I'm dead.

Fox wanted to say something in rebuttal, but Thorn's lack of comment about the elephant in the room made him wonder. He turned his head to the apparition and then to Thorn, and then back again. "You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" Thorn asked, a confused expression on his face.

"Nothing," Fox said and tossed the towel onto the desk before slumping back into his chair. "Never mind."

"Fox," Thorn said hesitantly. "I think you should see a medic. You've been acting strange lately and I'm worried."

Yeah, Fox, the apparition added. You should see a medic for that missing memory issue. Maybe they can tell you why you killed me.

"I don't need a medic!" Fox exclaimed as he slammed his fists onto the desk. Thorn flinched and Fox bit his tongue and sighed. "Sorry. I'm just tired is all."

Thorn still didn't look convinced, and he shook his head. "Alright, I trust your judgment."

I don't, the apparition said. You shot me.

"Thanks," Fox said. His eye twitched. It was hard enough to keep his thoughts straight, but it was even harder when he had two people talking to him at once and only one of them was actually there.

"I'm here if you need me," Thorn said. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Fox's shoulder and squeezed. "Even if you just want to talk."

You can talk to me too, the apparition said.

"I appreciate that," Fox said, trying to give him the best fake smile he could muster.

Thorn threw Fox another look of concern but turned and left his office all the same.

Fox immediately turned his attention to the apparition. "Can you just shut up?!"

No, the apparition said. That's the whole point of haunting. I'm supposed to be annoying.

Fox dropped his head onto his desk and yelled in frustration.

The apparition hopped off the desk and knelt so its face was on Fox's level. Just tell me why you killed me, Fox, it whispered. And I'll go away.

Fox clutched the side of his head with his hands. "I'm trying," he choked out. "But I can't remember."

It had been a week and Fox was on the verge of losing himself. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He couldn't do anything. The reports were piling up and questions were being asked. Thorn continued to pry, and he appreciated the thought, but he wished he'd just drop it.

Every time Thorn came into his office or snuggled into his arms in bed, the apparition stared at him like he was a piece of meat. Fox knew the apparition couldn't hurt Thorn, at least, that was what he'd been made to believe, but what if he was wrong? What if it could hurt Thorn?

He couldn't let it get Thorn. It could torment him all it wanted, it could even kill him if it wanted to, but he would not let anything happen to Thorn. Thorn was too good for this kind of torturous hell. Thorn hadn't killed any clones. He probably hadn't killed anyone.

There was no reason for Thorn to be brought into this. It was Fox the apparition wanted. The clone's blood was on his hands, not Thorn's. Thorn had nothing to do with any of this and Fox would do anything to protect him. He would die for Thorn in a heartbeat.

Hi Fox, the apparition said while leaning against the door frame of the office.

"What do you want?" Fox said with disdain from where he sat behind his desk.

The truth, the apparition said with a smug grin. You've been keeping it from me.

"Like I've said," Fox said. "I still don't remember."

Not good enough, the apparition said as it pushed itself off the door frame and approached Fox's desk.

Fox stood up, his chair violently scraping across the floor. "I won't let you hurt Thorn."

What are you talking about? the apparition asked.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Fox yelled. "I know you're going to hurt him to get back at me."

Are you alright, Fox? the apparition taunted. You seem a little off today.

"Get out of my head!" Fox clutched the sides of his head. "I know what you're doing!"

What's the matter? the apparition taunted further. I've never seen you so unhinged before.

"Leave me alone!"

C'mon, Fox. The apparition walked closer. Just tell me.

Fox drew one of his blasters and pointed it towards the ghostly figure. "Get away from me!"

Whoa, there, the apparition said, putting its hands up and taking a single step back. There's no need for that.

Fox breathed heavily. "I'm warning you!"

You won't shoot me, the apparition smirked. You have no reason to shoot me. Put the blaster down, Fox.

"I won't let you hurt him!" Fox yelled, then fired a single bolt through the same spot as before, on the apparition's chest, through its heart. He watched as the apparition fell to its knees and clutched at its chest. That'll stop it. That'll shut it up. That'll make it leave him alone. That'll keep it from hurting–Thorn?

Fox panted as his senses began to clear. The vision of the apparition slowly dissipated, leaving behind the image of Thorn grasping the bleeding hole in his chest. A look of pain, shock, horror, and confusion painted his face as he looked at Fox.

No. This couldn't be happening. He didn't. He couldn't. Did he just shoot his lover? But it was the ghost! The ghost was right there. It was talking to him. It was taunting him. It was going to hurt Thorn.

"Fox," Thorn gasped. "Why?"

At the sound of Thorn's voice, the gravity of what Fox had done hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widened, tears brimming at the surface, and his voice quivered. "Thorn?"

Thorn collapsed forward onto the floor and Fox rushed to his side.

"No, no, no, no," Fox rambled as he rolled Thorn over and applied pressure to the wound. "I need a medic!" he yelled. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I… I didn't know it was you. There was a ghost and it was in my head and I couldn't remember." Tears fell from Fox's eyes as he tried desperately to explain.

Thorn reached up a hand to touch Fox's cheek and Fox grabbed it with his own.

"I'm… sorry," Thorn said weakly. "I… wish… I… could've… helped… you…" Thorn's hand dropped as his body went limp and he breathed his last breath.

"Where's my medic!" Fox yelled, tears now streaming down his face unabated. "Hang on, cyare." He pulled Thorn's lifeless body close to his chest and rocked him back and forth. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me."

The apparition appeared once again, crouched down in front of Fox, and looked apathetically at Thorn's lifeless body. It shook its head. And to think all of this could've been avoided if you would've just told me what I wanted to know.

Fox looked at the apparition. He was still in shock.

Oh well, the apparition said with a smirk. A vod for a vod. At least you'll remember killing this one.

Tagging a few people who were interested: @brokenphoenix99

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Echo declines to join the Batch on a night out, but Crosshair stays behind to try and convince him.

Crosshair’s thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It will be fun,” he said. "We could get drunk, dance. Find a dark corner I can press you up against as I kiss you–"

He trailed off sharply, as though biting off a thought he hadn't meant to voice aloud. Echo did a double take nonetheless.

"What did you say?"

@theproblemwithstardust happy belated birthday and @happybean17 hope you don't mind the tag you sounded interested when I mentioned this a few weeks back?

[loverboy-havocboy]

@theproblemwithstardust haha it was based mostly on vibes, because i think the only way to get boil to talk about his feelings is by force. although, the first fic i ever wrote on my own was a trapped waxerboil love confession - albeit, with lower stakes.

change of plans on ao3, if you're interested.

and i can't be sure off the top of my head, but this feels like something @cacodaemonia has to have written at some point

[oceansssblue]

Continuing with the rarepairing masterlist, we haveee...

"A FEW EXCEPTIONS" –DOGMA/TUP 💖

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Dogma is struggling. Not in the ways shinies usually struggle, though adapting to real life outside of Kamino, real war and losses and hours of exhaustion upon his young shoulders, has definitely not been easy. He has pushed himself through it, though; his loyalty to the Republic, his fierce need to protect and fight, greater than any worry or fear. No; what Dogma is really struggling with is with his feelings for the 501st' fellow shiny. Tup. Sweet, sweet Tup.

It's almost hard to believe he's also a soldier –though Dogma knows he's not any less brave and diligent–. He's just so... Innocent, though, and lovely; like a beacon of positivity and tenderness in a war filled with darkness. Dogma is painfully aware of the hundred rules that dictaminate that he can't persue a relationship with a fellow vod; but everytime Tup smiles at him, his heart forgets about all of them.

Sitting on a booth on 79's, other troopers from the 501st sprawled around him, Dogma can't help but smile at his vod'ika animatedly gossiping with Fives. While he usually remains fairly silent in the 501st' escapades into the Corusscant night –his usually serious disposition perhaps not friendly enough for others to try to engage with him– Tup laughs and chats and dances like a natural. It's a beautiful thing to see; such freedom in a life governed by others that overpower them.

A few hours into the night, Tup comes stumbling back to Dogma; the man quickly reaching out a hand to stabilize him while he all but drops down on the space next to him.

"Oops" he giggles, alcohol clearly washing away his balance and filters. "I think I shall rest for a bit now".

Dogma nods, and Tup sighs in relief, scanning the local around him. 79's is crowded; troopers from different companies chatting and dancing and flirting with the few natives that dare to put a step inside the clone bar. Tup watches as Fives pouts after he gets rejected by a pretty twi'lek with bright pink skin and laughs. Dogma follows his line of sight and shakes his head with fond amusement.

"You aren't going to try your luck tonight?" Tup asks, wiggling his eyebrows in a silly gesture that almost makes Dogma laugh as well.

The trooper shrugs.

"No native has caught my eye" he replies, and Tup chuckles in good humour.

"Perhaps you're too picky" he points out, and then half-jokingly adds. "You know, you could always try with a clone. We do make fine specimens..."

Dogma snorts. He really doesn't want to dwell in that...

"That's against the rules" he points out. "And you know how much I value those".

It's almost rehearsed, the way he says it. He takes a glance at the dance floor, were some vods are definitely dancing way too close; and misses how Tup's smile falls.

"So you'd never go for it, even if you secretly wanted to?"

Dogma frowns.

"You think I'd risk getting decomissioned for a quick drunk fuck with a vod?" He replies, and then gently pushes Tup's shoulder with his. "I thought you knew me, Tup".

For some reason, the joke doesn't sit well with the clone. Tup's expression closes off; and he mumbles a hasty excuse before he's all but running towards the dance floor.

"You know, I think I'm gonna dance some more!"

Dogma doesn't even have time to say goodbye to him; eyes following Tup's retracting figure with utter confusion. What the fuck just happened?

"Don't worry, vod" a hand pats his shoulder comfortingly, and Dogma turns to the side to find Jesse with his eyes fixed on the dance floor. "I'm sure good old Fives will help vod'ika to get over his heartbreak".

Dogma's body tenses; eyes inmediately flying back to find Tup pressed against the trooper's front. He's intelligent enough to read into Jesse's words; though he's still having trouble to believe them. There's no way Tup is actually into him... There's no way his questions were actually about him. Right?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Dogma tries to ignore the sight of the two of them flirting; but it's easier said than done. When Fives bends forward to whisper something against the trooper's ear, and Tup all but grins, he clenches his hand so hard around the glass of spotchka that he swears he hears a crack. It's torture; the last hour the 501st spend in 79's before collectively deciding to return to the barraks. Dogma sighs in relief and stands up; though he is unable to relax completely when Fives is all but pressed to Tup's thigh in the cab.

A million thoughts run through Dogma's mind. Are they, is he... is Tup planning on taking it further with Fives? Dogma hasn't drunk much; but his stomach lurches unpleasantly at the possibility.

When they're about to enter their barraks, tension rises until Dogma isn't able to control himself any longer. He –perhaps a bit harshly– tugs Tup's hand towards him; hauling him back.

The trooper watches him in surprise; Fives glancing back at them once before shrugging and continuing his way inside. Dogma sighs and bites his own lip, hesitant; an unusual behaviour on him.

"Dogma?" Tup asks, concerned and confussed, and Dogma swallows down and erases every single rule about fraternisation from his mind before forcing himself to confess his feelings out loud.

"What I said, in the bar, about not risking decomissioning for a quick drunk fuck... It's true" he begins, and Tup's face fills with what can only be anger until Dogma squeezes his hand tightly and blurts "But I wasn't talking about you. Because you wouldn't be just a quick fuck".

Tup's eyes widen; his whole face transforming with the information revealed. His expresion fills again with that almost child-like happiness; staring back at Dogma in surprise and wonder.

"Are you..." he stutters, momentarily lost, and Dogma finally gives in into his long burried wishes and cups Tups face with his right hand.

"I'm saying I would risk decomissioning for a serious relationship with you" he nods, and it's so clear and impossible to misinterpret that Tup's eyes fill with tiny happy tears, blurring his sight.

"You've really put me through a rollercoaster of emotions tonight" the trooper chuckles, a blush setting on top of his cheeks, a sudden shyness enveloping him.

He has never done anything further than a few heated kisses here and there. He likes Dogma so so much...

"I'm sorry" the clone offers, thumb caressing his skin, closing his eyes and softly pressing his forehead against Tup's. "You know how I am".

Tup chuckles and presses back, hands slidding around Dogma's plated hips.

"You need to learn that rules always have one or two exceptions" he smiles. "Nothing is ever quite black or white".

Tup gives in into his desire to kiss the other's lips, sighing in happiness when Dogma makes a surprised little sound in his throat and kisses him back.

"I'm willing to learn" the clone whispers tenderly, and Tup feels like the happiest trooper in all of the GAR.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PS. Aren't they cuties?

[elthadriel]

Bly/Cody/Fox and uhhh. Impulsive kiss? Virginity? Cockwarming?

I went with cockwarming and them being the worst

Periodically Fox’s cock remembers he’s got Bly’s shoved up his ass and starts to harden. It was understandable at first, but after so many times it comes accompanied with frustration. Bly had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t intend to fuck Fox—and Bly is as stubborn as they come and impossible to sway on such matters—but Fox’s body remains disgracefully optimistic.

Fox doesn’t move, resists the urge to rock back into Bly’s cock, squeeze around him, or anything else that would reveal that his arousal has ticked up again.

Bly notices anyway, because for all the words he’d used to coax Fox into this position—it’ll be relaxing, Fox. We’ll just lay down for a bit, Fox, maybe just sleep—he was clearly anything but relaxed, watchful for any flicker of weakness from Fox.

Bly hushes him, kissing his shoulder and running a hand down his side. It’s almost soothing, but it’s also Bly. The gentleness is a precision strike against Fox, patronising and mocking. Fox’s cock throbs and pathetically pleads with him to respond to the insult by fucking himself on Bly properly, instead of just letting Bly fill him.

That would be letting Bly win.

Fox takes a slow breath and Bly laughs softly behind him, chest shaking against Fox’s back.

“Easy, Fox,” Bly whispers, breath tickling through the short hair on the back of Fox’s neck.

“Go fuck yourself,” Fox hisses, only realising he’s matched Bly’s low tone after it’s too late to correct.

“We can swap after if that’s what you want,” Bly says, and then yawns, nuzzling his face into Fox’s neck.

It’s not worth giving an answer to, so Fox doesn’t.

He’s warm despite the blanket kicked to the end of the bed, Bly a furnace at his back, his wandering hands leaving warm skin in their wake. Bly’s cock in him fuelling a different sort of heat in him.

He won’t think about it. The bed is soft even and the room is dark. They have a few hours yet. It would be nice to sleep. It would be beating Bly at his own game.

Fox’s cock admits defeat and slowly softens again.

It is nice—a solid body behind him, and the easy stretch of being held open around a cock.

It would probably be better if it was anyone but Bly. Thorn would be happy to repeat this. Thorn would just as happily fuck him properly, and he could sleep in the afterglow which would just less nonsense all around.

The door beeps, Cody stepping into Bly’s room like he owns the place.

Bly’s lightning fast, hands tightening on Fox before Fox can wrench himself off Bly’s cock and murder Cody before he even has time to close the door.

“Bly. Ten-ten,” Cody greets, the door sliding shut behind him.

“Did you invite him?” Fox snarls, and almost manages to twist right the way around and off Bly’s cock.

“No, I invited you,” Cody says, shrugging off the jacket of his greys and tossing it onto Bly’s desk, then to Bly adds, “You should have stuffed his mouth up instead.”

“You’re welcome to,” Bly says, petting Fox’s sides like he’s a spooked tooka and not a furious marshal commander.

“Come here and try it,” Fox warns. Like shit Cody is welcome to.

“Have you got something that’ll stop him from biting me?” Cody asks Bly, more of his clothes pulled off and left to spill out across the floor.

“Why would I? He never bites me,” Bly says.

Cody grunts, making the smart choice to not put his cock near Fox’s mouth.

Bly’s petting turns into more deliberate pushes, trying to encourage Fox to settle back down. An elbow backwards isn’t enough to put him off the idea.

The last of Cody’s clothes are abandoned across Bly’s room and naked he slides into the bed next to them. Fox’s traitorous cock is swelling up again hopefully, as if Cody will do anything but make this worse. It does mean he needs to decide between being flush against Bly, Cody, or telling them both to rot and leaving.

He won’t let Cody chase him out.

He goes back down to the mattress, shuffling away from Cody and into Bly. Cody doesn’t follow, letting Fox have his inches of space. Cody does something much worse; he kisses Fox with unforgivable tenderness. Fox bites him. It’s not hard enough to taste blood—pity—but Cody does jerk away, superior facade broken as he glares at Fox.

Bly pinches him. “Stop it, Fox.”

There’s no way to insist that Cody started it without sounding petulant and childish. Out of sight of Bly, Fox bares his teeth.

Cody huffs and doesn’t go back in for another kiss. He stretches out next to Fox and claims the space between them instead.

Cody isn’t hard, not even a little, and that takes all the indigent heat out of Fox.

Cody reaches over him to find Bly, their hands tangling. They don’t put their joined hands on Fox, but Cody’s arm is heavy over him, and they’re pressed up against him on both sides.

Fox softens against Cody’s leg, and Cody doesn’t try to antagonise him over it.

Fox’s thoughts come slower and slower, until they’re thick, heavy things that slip through cursory attempts to catch them. He could—if he wanted to—he could snatch them back with two hands, but it doesn’t seem necessary. Bly’s breathing into his neck, his cock buried deep in Fox but removed from any further demands of his body. Even if Fox’s cock twitches a little every time he drifts too close to dwelling on what this sort of position would usually mean, it lacks real desire.

Fox breathes and Cody’s mouth is almost against his, their foreheads together, their noses brushing. One of them lifts their jaw and they’re kissing again, and this time the sweetness untainted by whatever angle Cody had brought to the bed. Fox keeps his teeth to himself, sucking on Cody’s lip. Maybe if it wouldn't involve moving he would let Cody put his soft cock in his mouth. He could hold it there without sucking on it, just like Bly is filling him without fucking him.

They make do with lazy kisses.

“Told you, you’d like it,” Bly mumbles into his skin, seeking the last word.

Fox is too comfortable to do much about that. 

[sergeantgoggles]

Prompt: Paint Ship: Fox/Dogma Rated: G .

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” Fox questions again, looking up at Dogma through long lashes. There is a can of paint in the shade of 501st blue sitting beside him, and Dogma’s chest plate is situated carefully in his lap while Dogma stretches out in Fox’s bed. 

“Why not? It’s more symbolic than any ring, and there’s no chance of me losing my armor in battle,” Dogma reasons. They both know that isn’t entirely true, but Dogma does have a point, it’s less likely to happen. 

Fox doesn’t question him any further though. If Dogma’s mind is made up, then that’s what he’s going to do. Steadily, he dips a brush into the small can of paint, and begins to color in Dogma’s armor. 

“Just like mine, right?” He clarifies. 

Dogma hums, and there’s a small little smile on his face as he watches. “Yeah, just like yours.”

[probadbatch]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CT-9904 | Crosshair/CT-9901 | Hunter Characters: CT-9904 | Crosshair, CT-9901 | Hunter Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, this starts off so soft but don't let that fool you, Angst, they'll be alright though, Cloneshipping | Clone Trooper/Clone Trooper Relationships (Star Wars) Summary:

“This one?” “Ah,” Hunter cringes at the memory – not one of his finest moments – and knows Crosshair is going to give him shit for it. “Bar fight on Ord Mantell. Guy got a lucky hit.” Crosshair looks every bit as unimpressed as Hunter expected. “It looks like you got stabbed,” he points out in a dry tone.

Happy Monday everyone, I’m back on my bullshit :)