#finally some good kriffing news

[dystopicjumpsuit]

An update (and it's good news).

Hi everyone! Thanks for being patient with me. I have some good news to share. I'll put details below the cut for anyone who is okay with reading medical stuff, but for those who prefer to avoid it, the TLDR is that things are going very well, and I am hoping to start making a slow return to normal Tumblr/fandom activities very soon. I have missed you all so much, and I'm so grateful to everyone who reached out with such kind and supportive words. I love you all more than I can say.

And now, the details.

Gratuitous Darcy gif because I can't find one of Mr. Bennet saying, "Read on, Lizzie!"

We are at the midpoint of my partner's treatment course, and they had a progress check yesterday. We discovered two things: first, the bad news was that it was not just one blood clot, but many, running all through their thigh. For whatever reason, that information was not disclosed at the initial diagnosis. The good news, though, is that ALL of the deep vein clots have dissolved, and only the superficial ones are left. The risk of complications from the superficial ones is far lower, so a huge amount of stress has been lifted.

It took weeks for cardiology to see them, which was incredibly frustrating and nerve-wracking. But they finally did a full workup and found that their initial diagnosis was either inaccurate, or it had resolved in the interim, which was a massive relief. It honestly felt like we were sitting on a time bomb, and so not having that looming over us feels very freeing.

Their doctors have not attempted to find the cause of the clots, but they have a follow-up appointment scheduled with their vascular surgeon at the end of the treatment (in six weeks). We are hoping that they will try to track down the root cause at that point, but we also know that they are likely to need surgery to repair the vascular damage from their preexisting condition, so this is likely to be an ongoing issue until that is resolved. That said, it seems that the immediate, life-threatening danger has passed, and for the first time since early June, I feel like I can breathe again.

During the past several weeks, we've had some long conversations about how we are going to move forward from this, and one of the decisions we reached was that we will likely be staying in this house longer than we originally anticipated, so we need to make some changes to it to make sure it is accessible and will accommodate our bodies as we age. With that in mind, we started planning several significant renovation projects, some of which are now already underway. These range in scale from installing safety railings, to a large remodel of our downstairs so we can have our bedroom on the ground floor. We honestly should have done this years ago, but living in a construction zone is my own personal version of hell, so I've been procrastinating. But this situation was definitely a wake-up call that we need to take care of these things now instead of waiting for them to become emergencies.

As you can imagine, planning and carrying out those projects (in addition to dealing with the medical stress and continuing to work full-time and take care of all my usual responsibilities and commitments) is taking up all of my energy and attention right now. I haven't had time or inspiration to write, but since getting such good news yesterday, I can already start to feel the sparks of creativity coming back, so I am crossing my fingers that I'll be able to pick that up again soon. I hesitate to commit to any deadlines, though, because my brain is just too unpredictable, and what little inspiration I've had recently has been for original fiction.

All of which is to say that I'm hoping to start returning to the fandom very soon, but I will likely be a bit less active than I was before, at least for the next several weeks. Thank you again for your patience and for sticking with me through this. You've all been so kind and lovely, and I feel incredibly lucky to have you in my life.

🩵

Hiatus announcement.

Hi friends. I've got some stuff I need to focus on in my personal life right now, and I'm not able to balance that with keeping up with Tumblr and Discord. I'll be taking a hiatus starting immediately. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but hopefully it won't be too long. If you have submitted a request for a fic, design, or artwork, please know I'll do my absolute best to fill it when I'm back, but for now, I need to be present in my real life.

I love you all, and I'll miss you, and I can't wait to come back! I'll put a few more details below the cut in case you're interested. CW for medical issues.

My partner has been unwell recently, and this week, we discovered that they have a blood clot in their leg. Further testing revealed they have a serious heart condition. Unfortunately, they also have a preexisting vascular condition that makes blood thinners risky, but their PCP went ahead and prescribed a three-month course of medication for the clot since it's an immediate issue. We are waiting to hear if insurance will cover the meds; apparently this prescription gets rejected by insurers frequently due to the cost. (Thinking about the fact that some analyst in a cubicle could decide that my partner's life is worth less than a three-month course of medication is making me feel absolutely sick.)

They have more appointments scheduled with a cardiologist and a vascular surgeon, so for now, we're just kind of stuck in limbo. Their PCP gave us a long list of, "If x happens, go to the emergency room immediately. If y happens, go to the emergency room immediately. If z happens - you guessed it - go to the emergency room immediately."

At this point, I'm still trying to come to terms with it. My partner just turned 44. We have an active lifestyle; we eat healthfully; we don't drink to excess. We just got fucked over by genetic risk factors.

The scariest part is that we wouldn't have found out about any of this if they hadn't gone to the doctor for a completely unrelated issue. I'm trying not to think about it too hard, or my imagination starts to send me into a spiral.

Please allow me to get sappy for a moment:

If you've read much of my work, you probably know my partner better than you might think, as they inspire a lot of my characterization, either directly or indirectly. If you enjoyed the way I wrote Waxer in "The Sixth Language" or Jesse in "In Which Jesse Gets What He Deserves," then you have a good idea of their personality. They are extraordinarily kind and patient, funny and sweet. They have been here for me consistently for twenty years, first as my friend, and later as my everything. They've held me when I cried, and they've made me laugh every single day since I met them. They know me better than anyone in the world, and I trust them with my soul.

They are the only person IRL who even knows that I write fanfiction, and they have read every single fic I've ever written. They've served as my guinea pig when I needed to work through the physical mechanics of a scene, and they've listened to me ramble for hours on end about plotting and characterization. They've supported and encouraged me in this and so many other areas, and now it's my turn to support them through this.

If you've read this far, I just want to say thank you for all the love, support, encouragement, and kindness you've given me over the past year. This fandom community has truly changed my life, and I am more grateful than words can communicate. I hope to see you all again very soon, hopefully with good news. But in the meantime, please know that I love you all.

May the Force be with you. 🩵

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Din Djarin X Reader: Guilty Pleasure

Warnings: not proof read, smut, penetration (p in v), fingering, hand job, cream pie, pet names, touch starved, cursing, kissing, no use of yn

Word count: 2K

He’s trying not to look. He really is but you're not making it easy. 

Maker, it isn’t your fault he finds you irresistible. 

Here you are innocently helping him fix his ship and all he can think about is how it would feel to fuck you from behind. It’s been going on for weeks now. Every time you bend down, your ass coming into his view, Mandos mind seems to venture to sinful thoughts. He didn’t know why it’d started, you'd been with him for months now and even though he’d realized he had a thing for you days ago he’d only recently started to see you in this new light. A light that made him feel like his pants were too tight and made his breath become uneven.

“Kriffing metal piece of-shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a part that needs replacing.”

“You can’t fix it?”

“No, it's completely rusted. Not a surprise though. When was the last time you put some oil on this thing?”

In all honesty Mando had no idea the compartment you were currently tinkering with existed much less that he needed to oil it. You took his silence as an answer, shaking your head.

“Well, lucky for us there is a shop in town that deals in ship parts. They should have what we need.”

The two of you walked through the crowded town. Dins hand rested on his blaster, eyes looking around for any signs of trouble. You held the new part you purchased in your hand. The owner of the shop had asked for a fair price and to your surprise the piece was in rather good condition. You glanced to the side, eyes catching on a small shop. You didn’t notice the person walking towards you until their shoulder bumped into yours. You stumbled your hand releasing the part you held. It fell to the ground with a dull thud. You bent down to get it.

Mando had been too focused on a sketchy looking man to notice you’d stopped walking. His body collided into yours, his hands instinctively moved to hold onto your frame. Mandos' eyes widened beneath his helmet as he realized the position he now found himself in. His hands rested on your hips keeping you steady. You were bent forward, your ass pushed against his groin. By some force of nature Din had found himself in the exact position he’d been thinking about for the past few days. 

In the middle of a crowded street. 

In front of a bunch of strangers. 

Mando didn’t touch you often. He usually avoided coming in contact with your body when possible. So when you felt his grip on your hips you froze. Your head turned to the side, eyes moving up Mandos body until they reached his helmet. Mando started at your shocked expression. He should have let you go already but he couldn’t move. You turned your attention back to the part grabbing it in your hand. Once it was securely in your palm you slowly started to rise. Mandos' hands remained glued to you as you moved. You finally managed to get upright and you immediately regretted it.

You could feel his body pressed against yours. A small sigh left your lips at the feeling. Maker it had been so long since you’d been this close to someone.  Beneath his helmet Mando shut his eyes taking a deep breath in. You felt so soft against him. Your body was a warm contrast against the chilled metal that constantly surrounded him. His fingers flexed against your skin digging into the meat of your hips. You let out a sharp intake of breath. The noise made Mando open his eyes. He watched you rest your head against his shoulder blade, your eyes closed and lips slightly parted. You’d exposed your neck to him and the only thing he could think about was sinking his teeth into you. Mando called out your name causing you to furrow your brows before opening your eyes slowly. You tilted your head slightly so that you could stare at the T shape of his visor. You should have been embarrassed, maybe even a little ashamed, of how you were behaving but you weren't. You’d longed for Din’s touch for a long time and now that you had it, you weren’t going to waste your time worrying about it. You were going to savor this moment. No matter how little it lasted. 

“We have to get out of here.”

Mandos' modulated voice sounded strange. He sounded like he’d just ran a mile. It was then that you realized you had the same effect on him that he had on you.

Mando struggled to center himself as he dragged you towards the crowd. You stumbled after him, your hand grasping him tightly as you tried to keep up with his speed. You’d passed two motels on the way and it had taken everything inside Mando to not rent a room and get you naked as fast as possible. But he didn’t want to seem that desperate so he shook the thoughts out of his head.

You were getting close to the ship now, just a little bit longer and you’d get to feel him again.

Din smashed his hand against the hull's panel, a growl escaping his lips as he waited for the door to open all the way. Once it did, he dragged you inside the ship. You placed the part on top of a counter quickly turning to face Mando once more. You watched him slam his fist into the inside panel, making the door close again before he spun to look at you. You stare at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you wait for him to do something. Mandos' hands moved to his armor tugging at the metal desperately. 

“Help me cyar'ika.”

You rushed over to him, your own hand tugging at the beskar that covered him. For the first time you were looking at him without his armor and even with his flight suit still on you could see everything. Mando moved forward, stepping away from the pile of metal and making his way to you. His arms wrapped around your frame tugging you into his body. You gasped at the feeling of him. Unlike his armor he was incredibly warm and soft. You sighed into him, your head moving to rest against his neck. Mando groped you ass making you squeal. 

“Ah Din!”

He loved the way his name sounded coming out of your lips. You felt his hands move towards your front. You moaned as he stroked your clothed cunt with his fingers. Your hands moved to his head trying to grasp onto his hair only to remember he was still using his helmet. Din seemed to sense the disappointment in your body, his fingers stopping his teasing. His other hand made its way to your face, tugging your chin up so that you were looking at his visor. Your pupils were blown wide and your face was slightly flushed. Din smiled under his helmet. Maker if this is how you reacted to his fingers he wondered how you would look after he’d bent you over and fucked you stupid. 

“Tell me what you want.”

“What?”

“Saw you pouting about something. What is it?”

You bit into your lip. The truth is you wanted to see his face but you couldn’t ask him for that. You respected his allegiance to the Mandalore and his beliefs far too much to be that selfish but you really wanted to be able to feel him properly. You wanted to kiss and and hear his unfiltered grunts as he fucked you.

‘Mesha’la. Tell me what you want.”

“You can't give me what I want.”

“How can you know that if you didn’t even ask me for it?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Mandos' body stiffens at your words, his hand resting on your cheek as he tries to think about what you’d just said. You move against him taking a step back. 

“It’s okay i know you can’t it was stupid to-”

“Close your eyes.”

You stopped walking backwards, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of something to say. Mando tilts his head to the side and despite not saying anything you know what he’s asking. You do as he asked, eyes closing. You hear the hiss of his helmet being released and you almost stop breathing. Mando makes his way over to you, his hand finding your cheek once more.

“Promise to keep them closed.”

His voice sounds majestic without the modulator.

“I promise.”

“Good girl.”

Before you can even respond his lips are on yours. You groan into his mouth, your tongue darting out to ask him for entrance. He understands your request, his lips opening to let you in. Your tongues move together. The kiss isn't pretty, it's visceral. Your hands grab onto any part of Din you can and he does the same to you. You're so lost in the taste of him you barely register the fact that he's pulled your pants down to your ankles. It's only when you feel his fingers against your pussy that you realize your bareness. Din bites into your shoulder as he pistols his fingers into you. You melt into his hands latching onto his curls as you moan. His name leaves your lips like a prayer and he swears he’ll never forget the sound. 

“Din pleasee.”

“What is it mesha’la? What do you want?”

“I need you inside Din-ugh ah- wanna feel you.”

“Fuck cyar'ika.”

He spins you around so fast that you almost fall to the ground. You brace yourself against the cold wall, brows furring as you listen to Mando unzip his flight suit. 

“Give me your hand.”

You lift your hand to Dins face. He licks a strip down your palm before maneuvering your arm to twist downwards. A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his dick against your hand. You begin stroking him and he moans.

“Yeah just like that fuck.”

He lets you stroke him a bit before pulling your hand away. You whine at the lack of contact.

“I thought you wanted me inside.”

“I do.”

“Can’t be inside you if i’m fucking your hand mesha’la.”

It sounds strange to hear such dirty words coming out of Din's mouth. You like it though. You wonder what noises he’ll make when he’s balls deep in you. The thought makes you nudge your ass against him. Mando gets the massage. His toys with you a bit, sliding his dick against your folds for a moment before plugging in. The sound that leaves your lips isn’t natural. Din groans into your neck as your walls flutter around him.

“Move please Din move.”

He started rocking into you slowly. Your hands move against the cold wall, trying to find something to grab onto but coming on empty. You throw your hand behind your head searching for Dins curls. Once you find them you latch your fingers onto his scalp tugging at him as he pistols into you. You can hear your knees bainging against the wall as Din fucks you, you’re sure to wake up with bruises tomorrow but you don’t care. You focus on the grunt Din lets out as his dick spears into you. He’s a lot more vocal than you’d imagined. 

“Din i’m close…”

“Me to just a little more-ugh fuck me-a little more.”

Dins hands trail against your hips moving to your front. His fingers search for your clit moving expertly against the bud. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cum. Din feels you milking his cock the feeling of your walls sucking him in making his hips sputter. His pace fastens and pretty soon he's filling you with his seed. You slump against the wall body sagging as your energy drains out of you. Din rests his head against the metal hull, his breathing coming unsteady. The two of you stay like that for a moment each one trying to come back to reality. 

“I’m never oiling any part of this ship again.”

You laugh at Dins words, head turning to give him a kiss. 

“Maybe i’ll have to start dropping stuff in front of you more often.”

“Don’t tempt me mesha’la. I’ll fuck you on every surfess of this ship if you let me.”

“Oh yeah? That a threat or a promise?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

[lilacspider]

TUA should’ve ended after season 2

i am just so kriffing disappointed in this final season. i am disgusted. steve blackman has absolutely zero regard for these characters, their development, and the story. he has no respect for the ACTORS. he threw the entirety of these past three seasons in the trash in just one season. they had so much opportunity and yet he chose to make it a fetish-filled, scandalous, and completely lazy season.

all the vomitting???????? klaus being force fed marigold (which dare i say might’ve made a good storyline for him IF HE WASNT PIMPED OUT AND THEJN NESRLY BURIED ALIVE????) which in turn made him into an alcoholic???

five and lila????? they scrapped fives motivation of saving his family and keeping them together because of his LOVE FOR THEM, all SO HE COULD HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH LILA????? that is probably the biggest mischaracterization altogether. lila would never cheat on diego. they are married. THEY HAVE CHILDREN TOGETHER. it’s NORMAL to have arguments and trouble in a relationship but by no means does it mean there’s room for affairs as a result. it just makes me mad. ritu has known aidan since he was 15, like this is so nasty.

diego being the stereotypical “bad father” for lack of better words because he apparently has no consideration for his family which is NOT TRUE AND IS A HUGE MISCHARACTERIZATION!!????

luther going back to being the guy that no one really listens to because they feel he has nothing of value to offer (it wasn’t super evident but i noticed it which made me sad bc we made so much progress with his character!)???

allison becoming a single mom whose husband, RAYMOND, walked out on her??? that literally makes no sense for raymond or her, yes allison is a strong and independent character but it feels like it’s just stereotype after stereotype.

viktor becoming a womanizer and LEAVING HIS FAMILY BEHIND! all viktor has ever wanted since childhood is to be apart of his family, and they take that away this season??? makes no sense.

dont even get me started on sparrow ben. i have never liked his character he is wayyyy too much of an asshole, but your saying he can’t have common sense??? they turn him into a criminal who is contaminated by this essence that is meant to end the world and ends up making him insanely attracted to the one consistent mystery in this entire show (jennifer/the jennifer incident) and then throw away the entire plot line to just have them end the world. **and then making him and jennifer overly sexually attracted to each other was just straight up weird, where did that even come from?? i had to skip those scenes because it was so kriffing cringe.

because out of no where, abigail had a change of heart. and reginald is somehow one of the only mentally stable characters this season which is new!??? jean and gene were completely and utterly useless. they had no point, the only five i liked in this season is brisket, newspaper, drunk, and season one five. CIA five can leave.

one of the only redeemable moments of this season is the flashback of our brellies. that was good. there were other parts that i liked but that is first that comes to mind. **and the birthday party scene where they reunite. very cute and family vibes. sucks they couldn’t all be together because viktor was straight up kidnapped by some crazy.

and then the subway to different timelines. that could’ve been such a freaking awesome idea and would’ve made a great plot device IF THERE WASN’T ONLY SIX EPISODES AND SOMEONE ELSE WAS PUT IN CHARGE OF WRITING. like why are five and lila the only ones who are aware of this?? this couldn’t have been utilized earlier?? also can we talk more about how ben is an asshole, people focus too much on the attractive aspect of his character (which no offense, i see no appeal to bc the personality is just awful—NO HATE TO JUSTIN H M, he’s fantastic it’s just we did not lose brelly ben for this), like he force fed/tricked EVERYONE into consuming the janky marigold. except klaus because he’s the only smart one there. also good on him for trying maintain sobriety. but still. that is so messed up???? if he had never given anyone the marigold, everything could’ve been fine. they could’ve lived long happy lives in this timeline reggie made.

and then they had david cross, pitch perfect 2 ref, iconic man, play an irrelevant character. i’m so mad. wasted potential right there.

AND! it’s a crime that there is no family dance montage/scene like past seasons. it hurts. **oh and also there being like zero MCR songs is such a slap in the face because if the producers and directors actually listened to the fans opinions and ideas every once in a while, they would know that we’ve been hoping for an MCR song to be included as an homage/reference to Gerard Way.

and then that ending. where they just accept death???? choosing that the world is better off without them??? that is such a lazy end. if they had ten episodes and let gerard way have some sort of say in the writing/directing process, we could’ve had something so good. something so creative and fun and fulfilling. but no. they die and come back as marigolds. **which i personally really liked, out of everything this season i’m not sure why so many people hate the fact they kind of turned into flowers 😭😭 the ending sucked cause it’s so obvious it wasn’t given much thought but it was still sad and seeing the eight marigolds was sweet and gave closure in a sense. as much as it could i guess. **also, the farthest marigold is ben regardless bc brelly ben is dead and sparrow ben doesn’t really consider the brellies as his family. it is not five or klaus or whoever, it is ben. it has to be imo. the two flowers closest together are lila and diego. fight me.**

another thing, all the bad guys having a happy ending? irks me. like they were iconic, but why them and not the brellies? **(while i still agree with the idea of why couldn’t the brellies be happy too, i actually liked the fact that the main villains or side characters had completely different lives had the umbrella academy never existed. like that’s actually crazy sad and really interesting. also two things: is detective patch in that last scene? i’m not sure if she is. and second: why is grace like alive? like she would still be alive, but she was alive in the sixties, so wouldn’t she be like super old by that point in time?? why is she still young? and having kids? the inconsistency is realll)** also i liked the version of i think we’re alone now they used but i think it could’ve been better if they used the tiffany version again 😞

anyway—thank you for reading my rant because i am just so baffled by how horrible this season was. i feel so bad for the cast because even they knew that this season would not be it. that not one true fan of TUA would like it. and it’s sad because this has been such a huge part of their lives and careers as actors. so they did great with what they were given and for that they have my respect.

** signify edits i made — mostly grammatical and clairty edits, and a few of my opinions updated or added on to now that i have had time to really think about what occurred this season.

[threepandas]

The Vod's List: Part 3

The Separatist Army tries invade the Techganic homeworld and DIES SCREAMING.

I... I am cackling like a broken laugh 'track, in a low Senatorial staff seating area. Pretty sure everyone thinks I've lost my chips. But... BUT THEY DON'T GET IT! It's so FUNNY!? Oh Bones and Blood! Oh karking STARS!!! Of all the kriffing PLANETS to PHYSICALLY INVADE with DROIDS!!!

DROIDS!

I am wheezing. Gasping for air. Slowly tipping out of my chair as I all but seize silently in spasms of sheer, incredulous, amusement. Oh Stars, I'm gonna die. My gut is on fire and I DONT CARE. Droids! Just... just DROPPED UM right into the capitals like "here ya go! Surrender flesh bags!"

Pfffahahahahaha!

I finally slip, only for a gloved hand to catch my shoulder gently, keeping me from crashing to the floor. A calculated step and lift, brings my shoulder to brace against the side of familiar armor. A guard. I manage to glance up through my incoherent laughing fit. I know that armor!

"Fox!" I grin, glad I am starting to be able to tell the gaurds apart. It always felt rude to have to keep asking their names, even when I by all rights SHOULD already know them. "Good morning."

"Ma'am." He nods. I still don't get why people think they're 'emotionless'. Even through the voicecoder, his voice is warm. "Funny joke?"

"The Separatists invaded my planet." I laugh. At his questioning head tilt, I grin MEANLY from behind my mask. "Remember how we met? And you got infected? EVERYONE on my planet is some version of carrier, either Organic or Technological. Depending on where those droids land? They are either FOOD or free scrap metal. The Collective will EAT them. And folks back home?"

I glanced around, trying to find the room's cameras. Fox casually pointed before stepping between it's line of sight and me. Kriff he was so cool. I grabbed one of the old datapads I was supposed to dump in the recycler after my break. No one would miss if I threw one in the biohazard shoot instead... probably.

I turned it on. Showing it worked. A perfectly functioning, if old, datapad. Then? I listened to that old, old, OLD instinct in the back of my head that karking HATED technology. That honestly would be happier living in a stone shack on a distant moon, surrounded by growth. That could, at a glance, pick apart any given peice of technology's weak points.

Not to slice it. Or IMPROVE it. But to BREAK it. Irreparably.

My eyes found the weak point in the screen almost immediately. A point where fingers had worn it thin. Smack! I cracked it against the table, like an animal trying to open trying to open a nut. It cracked. And that was all I needed. All ANY of us would ever need, really.

Just One Little Crack.

I pulled off my mask, knowing my face was probably doing that... THING. That "super intent Murder Hunter" thing that we all do, when our instincts engage. But I wanted to show Fox. I trusted him. So I flexed my jaw and thought of the lift, of how me met, the STRESS. Just enough to get a bit of drool.

Then... I let it drop onto the screen.

The reaction, was of course, IMMEDIATE.

The datapad hissed and squealed, screen glitching violently. I carefully put it down, familiar with what was about to happen. Fox... was not. He watched. Frozen. Entranced. As the datapad burned and melted from within. Was CONSUMED. As my nanites wrecked hell in their final moments before dying, no longer supported by my body. Some of course, simply falling dormant.

Those were the lethal ones. The trap for future Collective members trying to reclaim tech. It's why all infected materials had to be treated as a biohazard. Those nanites stayed viable for upwards of a century AT LEAST. Several, in the right condition.

So droids? Ha! We were BIOENGINEERED to fight "droids"! We WERE the original GAR. What was that Human saying? "Nothing new in the Galaxy?" That.

Fox was taking even, measured, breaths. Clenching and unclenching his hand. His voice sounded... strained, as he agreed. That, yes. We WERE very, VERY alike. And that that was FASCINATING. Could his spit do that now too?

I... didn't know. Huh.

I blinked. First up at him. Then down at the 'pad. I hadn't considered that. Kriff. Well THAT was irresponsible of me. Yeah, yeah we should probably schedule some Techganic 101 lessons, shouldn't we? Since... you know, assuming you SURVIVE infection and first "heal"? It's kinda a one and done sort of thing.

You can't get... double infected? It very much IS a you ARE or you AREN'T a carrier. And even THEN... one of two kinds, which CAN NOT peacefully coexist.

Plus... since it's adapted to the Guards biology, a spread would be SUPER easy?

.........I..... I SHOULD tell someone.

But what would happen to Fox? I'm not blind. People aren't exactly... KIND to Clones. Would they decide its just easier to get rid of him? My gut say probably. Experience says likely. I've barely even STARTED working at the Senate and... well...

Maybe I should keep my mouth shut. WE should keep our mouth shut.

"This time, I'll be the one looking out for YOU, kay Fox?"

"Of course. I'll leave my self in your capable hands. I have no doubt... I'll learn A LOT."

There is something intent about the way he stands, the way he's bracketing me into my chair. The almost soft, warm but cloying quality to his voice. Like he's trying not to make it obvious he's handling me. Like I'm some import dignitary he wants to avoid upsetting. But one he LIKES. It's strange... I'm certain I'm missing something...

At least I have plenty of other Guards around to ask.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A FRESH START [20]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: description of injuries, language, spoilers for S3 The Mandalorian, mentions of death experiences, anxiety, PTSD references

Word Count: 5,066

Updates every Thursday

#20: SHORT STICK BEARS HIS WRATH

.

"you can't heal if you pretend you're not hurt." -aliza grace

.

Grogu had a habit of making friends wherever he went. So, it didn’t surprise Din to see that a bulk of Ari’s crew were gushing over his son and offering him different things to play with. After parking the N1 and walking to the address Ari messaged him, what looked like an old fighting gym, he entered to see a small group of people surrounding Grogu who stood on the table and babbled. They listened intently, cooed back to him, and offered him a variety of objects to either eat or play with.

Din’s eyes landed on Ari who was sitting in a desk chair, feet kicked up and ankles crossed, while frowning at the sight. When her gaze drifted toward him she blew out an annoyed breath of air. “Finally. Can you please take your son and go? It seems while he’s around my crew is,” Ari turned to yell out the next words at the people surrounding Grogu, “Incapable of doing their kriffing jobs!”

“The stressors of running a criminal empire.” Din snorted.

“Aw, you think my little show is an empire?” Ari grinned impishly. “That’s cute. I appreciate it, but I don’t think I’ve reached that level of notoriety yet.”

“Yeah, well, I have faith in you.”

Din knew her main skill set was in smuggling. He assumed that’s what she was still doing, just branching out and roping others in. Still, Din wasn’t too worried about breaking up her party or shining a spotlight down on her. Of all the evil Din had seen in the galaxy, Ari was harmless. Well, mostly harmless.

“Hey boss, can we keep it?” A large man turned and pointed to Grogu who had his hands up in the air as he babbled about a story.

“Him, you idiot.” Ari corrected. “It’s Mando’s son.”

“Oh, sorry.” The man replied. “Can we keep him?”

“See what I mean? Useless.” Ari scoffed. Din called out for Grogu who took the time to gather up all the snacks being offered to him then jumped into his pram to drift over. Ari crossed her arms and snapped for the others to get back to their jobs. They gradually drifted away. She looked at him. “So? How’s the doc?”

Din tilted his head. “Left him thirty minutes outside the city to crawl back.”

“That all?”

“I may have…” Din chose his words carefully. “Stacked the odds against him.” Ari chuckled in amusement and he nodded. “I need you to keep an eye on that for me.”

“How so?”

“Make sure there’s a corpse, and if there isn’t,” Din shrugged nonchalantly, “Make one.”

The request rolled off his tongue as if he were in Nevarro going to his neighbor’s house to ask for some sugar. Din saw no issue in his request. If he wasn’t on such a time crunch in his eagerness to return to you then he’d stick around and double check for himself. 

Ari nodded. “Alright. I’m counting that as two favors now though. So, you owe me.” Din dragged his helmeted gaze to look at her and raised an eyebrow in skepticism as if she’d be able to see. Ari read the tone enough to snicker. “Fine. Fine. We’re even then.”

“Deal.”

“So,” Ari whistled, “If you and your ‘not wife’ ever tie the knot will I get invited to the wedding? Do Mandalorians have weddings?” 

“Stop talking.” Din shook his head and turned to leave. He chuckled under his breath. Grogu followed after him⏤ the child’s cheeks full of some local dessert. Great, now he’d be bouncing around the cockpit of the N1 for Maker knows how long.

Ari called a good-bye after him as he left. “Nice seeing you too, Mando! Safe travels!”

Nima told you not to freak out. Her exact words had been, ‘Alright, everything is okay and you are safe and it’s all going to be fine but you need to know this’. Your first horrific thought was that the news would somehow involve your boys. It had been a knee jerk fear that filled your entire soul with dread. Then Nima followed it up with, ‘Kurt’s trial was put on hold’.

And, as wild as it was, you felt relief. That had been your initial reaction. Before Nevarro, hearing those words would have made you immediately throw up. But in this situation, all you could think was how grateful you were that the bad news didn’t involve Din or Grogu.

“I’m sorry.” Nima murmured and you could see how devastated she was to share this news with you. She was the kind of person who felt every emotion she had so deeply. It’s why she was so lively and bubbly as her day to day happiness shined through. However, in moments like this, it broke your heart to see her so empathetic to your own pain. “I went back and forth on telling you, but you made me swear to update you on any news I thought was important and this seemed important. Plus, I didn’t want you to hear on accident from somewhere else or⏤”

“Nima.” You reached out to squeeze her arm and gave her a smile. “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” The longer the news lingered in your mind the more it began to unravel your sense of peace. “What happened? Do we know why?”

She shook her head. “They won’t report it yet. Just that it’s delayed.”

Could trials be delayed right in the middle of it? You didn’t know a lot about law or the system surrounding it. Nima was rambling about something or another, trying to bring you comfort, but your thoughts drifted away. You wished Din were here. That wasn’t a surprising thought. Every single day since they left, multiple times a day really, you’d see something or think of something that made you crave their presence more than the baseline. Just yesterday you bought a bag of Grogu’s favorite blue cookies from the sandwich shop just for the hell of it. 

You heard your name, mumbled in concern, and your focus snapped back to Nima who was staring at you as if she was waiting for you to crumble. Slowly, you could feel the edges of your nerves beginning to fray, but that’s what work was for right? Distract you from all those dangerous thoughts and fears.

“Seriously. I am okay.” You reassured her once more. “This stays between us, right?”

“Of course.”

Your day carried on as if the news hadn't been shared with you. It would be the one day you wanted to keep busy that all of Nevarro decided to be the picture perfect definition of health. It was in part due to the droid being repaired which took off a lot of lower level urgent cases rather than emergent and it even saw some people with active conditions routinely. That would be it's primary purpose until the new guy that Karga hired eventually got out here.

When you went home for the night, you had only been moving around the kitchen for a few minutes, getting dinner ready, when your com rang for a holocall. You set your armband on the island counter to stand and answer. Grogu’s face immediately filled the entire screen with a loud ‘Ma!’ which pulled a laugh out of you. You needed that. 

“Grogu, share.” Din replied though you could only barely see him behind Grogu’s face.

“No.” Grogu replied simply before he began to babble about his day. He was getting better at expressing himself every day and you were picking up on words like ‘new friends’, ‘more food’, and even something that sounded like he was trying to tell you there was someone he didn’t like. Din sighed loudly, but you could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Uh huh.” You nodded your head, giving the little green boy your full attention, “Tell Ma all about it, baby.” It wasn’t until a solid five to ten minutes later that Grogu was appeased with the amount of attention from you that he was willing to share with his father. He wiggled out of the camera’s space so you could actually see Din, and the boy waved with a quick ‘Love Ma!’. You actually felt your heart tighten in your chest. “Love you too, baby.”

Grogu crawled away, probably to stir up trouble where he could find it on the small ship, and you bit back tears. The longer you sat with the news about Kurt the more you felt wired and anxious. Getting to talk to Grogu and see the cheerful boy made a world of difference.

“Mama’s boy.” You heard Din mutter with a chuckle while watching Grogu crawl away to wherever he went. His gaze quickly focused back on you and he let out a soft sigh. “Ner kar’ta. How was your day?”

“It was fine.” You leaned against the counter.

For the next half hour, you and Din talked about anything and everything. He told you about how the rest of his trip on that Outer Rim planet went, and he told you he dealt with Daelar. Din didn’t give you details on the specific, but you found that you didn’t really need them. You didn’t really care. Then you told him about your day, but gradually the two of you got off topic and trailed on about other things. Din was speaking, you could hear the sound of his comforting voice, but you found yourself accidentally zoning out. Your mind not falling into a specific thought, but just drifting away. It wasn’t until the third time that Din called out to you that you realized he had been doing so in the first place.

“Hm? Sorry.” You shook your head.

Even through a holocall, halfway across the galaxy, you could see the worry that Din wore. He had shifted forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, and there was a tension in his shoulders. If that didn’t give him away then the tilt in his head and the tone of his voice did. “What’s wrong? You’re troubled.” He didn’t ask if you were troubled. He just knew you were. “Tell me. Are you okay?”

“I am. I promise.” You replied. The last thing you wanted to do was worry him. Knowing Din, if you told him about Kurt he would do something drastic like immediately come back to Nevarro. Which, on one hand, was tempting, but it would just mean he’d need to leave again. Plus, you knew how important this mission was to him. You were not going to intercede with your own issues and drama. So, you decided on a lie of omission. “This afternoon there had been a patient with a chronic illness I didn’t remember much of. He was also Rodian and their anatomy is a blur to me. So, it was a lot of research and just working on the fly and I guess my brain just won’t let it go. I’m second guessing myself.”

Din’s entire body relaxed, but he stayed leaned over so he was closer to the camera⏤ closer to you. “Don’t. You’re incredible at what you do and immensely clever when you need to think on the spot.” You felt your cheeks warm at his blatant complements. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the greatest physician in the galaxy.”

You snorted. “Right. And that’s your totally unbiased opinion.” Din nodded. “All that medical knowledge you have makes you an expert in that decision.”

“I have twenty plus years of working a cautery, thank you.” Din replied with a chuckle.

“Yes. Obviously, so qualified.”

“Fine.” Din’s voice took a teasing edge. “You’re the best physician in all of Nevarro. Is that better?”

You let out a loud laugh and just as it had eased your anxious heart with Grogu, Din settled your soul as well.  Din was immensely proud of himself. You could see the smug air about him even through the holocall. When your laughter died down, you rested your chin on your hand to hold up your head.

“I miss you.” You mumbled.

Din sighed. “I miss you too, ner kar’ta. But it won’t be much longer.” You perked up. “I am stopping to speak to an…old friend.” The way he said the words made you doubt that this person was an actual friend⏤ or that the relationship was tumultuous at best. “Then on to Mandalore.”

A soft smile filled your features at the news. 

“Ma! Ma!” Grogu was yelling again as he tried to get into the picture.

Din scooped the boy up to set him on his laugh and playfully scolded. “You had your turn, ad’ika. It’s my turn with Ma.”

“No. Me.” Grogu argued.

You watched in amusement as Din continued to tease Grogu into a silly argument on who got to have your attention. Maker, you needed them back soon.

Ever since Nima shared the news about Kurt, nightmares plagued you. It was an odd mix of past and future. Some nights Kurt would be carving into you, telling you that you didn’t deserve to live, and other nights you’d have to watch helplessly as he hurt Din and Grogu.

You preferred the nights where Kurt made you bleed.

That added to the fact that while on Mandalore Din was not going to be able to call you due to interference really distracted you. Sleep deprived and anxiety riddled while working in a clinic with medical tools was not the ideal combination. The bacta tank needed refreshing in case of emergencies and during a quiet moment in the office you had told Aayla you planned to get it done. It was dirty work, cleaning the bacta filters, but you didn’t mind it. You hoped forward motion, keeping yourself busy, would keep you awake and sane.

So, when your hand slipped on the mechanism, causing the thick filter door to slam shut on your hand, it had been entirely your own fault.

"Fuck!" You screamed in agony as you felt the bones in your fingers snap. Blinded by the panic, your natural instinct was to try to pull your hand out, but the door was closed too tight for it to budge. All it did was send sharp, lightning strikes of pain shooting up your arm.

Aayla was by your side in an instant and she was shouting commands or reassurances at you, but your mind was in a fog. Maybe it was the pain or the exhaustion, but your body slumped forward onto the bacta tank as your vision went black.

It came back seconds later, but you didn’t feel the same. Rather than pain, you felt the telltale sign of something running through your veins to bring you relief. You were also now lying on a cot rather than standing over the bacta tank.

“What are we supposed to do when the doctor needs a doctor?” Mayfeld scoffed. You couldn't see him from where you laid, but his voice was easily recognizable. So was Vanth’s who replied.

“Use the droid.”

“The droid? That’s your solution? Let the kriffing droid work on the woman Mando is head over heels for?” Mayfeld cried. “He’s better about the damn things, but if he heard about this he’d come back to Nevarro just to kill us. Then he’d somehow save our asses from the brink of death just so he can kill us again.” 

You groaned and all your words came out groggily, “Stop talking. Both of you.” There was the sound of steps and suddenly it was Vanth’s face in your vision grinning down at you. “Why are you in here again?”

“Well, because the doc went and got her hand jammed up in some machinery.” Vanth replied. His words reminded you of the injury and you lifted your left hand to see a splint wrapped around your last three fingers. The ring finger was the worst, but all three were discolored and swollen. Vanth’s teasing tone switched to sincerity. “How’re you feeling, little lady?”

“Drugged.” You complained and rubbed your face with your good hand. The lack of pain was nice, but you hated how certain strong medications could make you feel.

“Yeah,” Mayfeld chimed, “That’s the e-bacta shot we gave you.”

“E-bacta??” You scoffed. “Where the hell did you get the e-bacta and why did you bring it into my clinic? That shit is illegal for a reason.” This version of bacta was so potent and strong that it was only one step down from spice, really. Addictive as hell and hard to keep from degrading. “Why did you do that?”

Vanth pointed at your broken hand. “Because that looks kriffing miserable. We’d put you in the tank altogether just to be cautious but we had to break the damn thing to get you unlodged from it.”

“Shit.” You forced yourself to sit up and the room spun. Both men reached out to steady you. “The tank is broken??”

Mayfeld snorted. “Yeah, and so is your hand. Focus on that instead.”

You rubbed your face in a poor attempt to gain some clarity. “Please tell me no one told Mando.”

Maybe he’d still be on Mandalore and there’d be no service for someone to tell him you got hurt. This was just like a few days ago when you learned about Kurt. You couldn’t make Din worry. He needed to focus on his own task and not be thinking about you.

“Told Mando?” Mayfeld cried. “Nobody wants to make the call and tell the indestructible tin can that we let his girl get hurt.”

Vanth shrugged. “We were gonna draw straws later. Us, Karga, Nima, Peli. Short stick has to bear his wrath.” He grinned at you. “But now that you’re up and talking, little lady, looks like we don’t need to do that.”

Mayfeld nodded and pointed at the man. “Yeah, good point. She should tell him. He won’t kill her.”

“Either stop talking or give me more e-bacta.” You grumbled.

Ignoring the well meaning but overbearing men, you cradled your broken hand in your lap. The splint on your hand was decent. You’d need something more permanent, but for a patch job it was solid. The sound of doors sliding open made you glance up to see Aayla fluttering in. She put her hands on her hips with a solid attempt of intimidation.

“I already chased out Nima. Now you two, as well?” 

The men glanced at you and you tilted your head and added. “Go. Don’t tell Mando.” As they neared the door you called out one last time. “And…thanks, guys.”

You did appreciate them and how much they cared. Even if some of that caring just came from a healthy fear of Din. Not that you thought Din would actually hurt either man. They were friends and this had very clearly been your fault.

“Did you do this?” You pointed to your hand and Aayla nodded with a sheepish grin. “It’s good. It’s really good, Aayla.” The woman beamed at your praise and you chuckled. “Did you get any scans yet?”

“Yes. We did.” She brought over a datapad and opened up the program that held all the imaging. You took it from her to look over your own scans and winced. Dank farrik. Hairline fractures on your pinky and middle finger, and an actual break in your ring finger. No wonder you blacked out. “Do we need to get you to a facility? Does your finger need surgical correction?”

You praised her line of thought then shook her head. “The fracture will heal itself once splinted. In order to test the tendons I need the swelling to go down just a bit so I can try moving my finger.”

Aayla stepped away and then returned with a cream and some ice. She got you situated on the cot and lifted the bed so you could lay back without being entirely flat. She was going to be a good doctor one day. After she went through school and all that. You leaned your head against the pillow and shut your eyes. It would be best for you to get some solid shut eye while the e-bacta was in your system. 

Since reaching Mandalore, everything had happened fast. Back to back to back, Din had what should have been considered one of the worst days of his life. Nearly dying three times qualified as a terrible day. However, Din was not dead. More than just not dead, he was redeemed. 

Din Djarin was no longer an Apostate.

He was Mandalorian once more.

That alone could make this a wonderful day, but the knowledge that this meant he could proceed in pursuing you was overwhelming. If he thought about it for too long it’d send him to his knees. The first thing he wanted to do was call you, but that plan was derailed when Imps bombed Bo Katan’s home. Considering the woman had saved his life, and watched Grogu when he was unable, the least he could do was get her to safety. Maybe the covert wasn’t the best place for Bo Katan Kryze, but Din needed to go there anyway so why not use it as a shelter.

As Nima liked to say: two porgs, one blaster.

When everything had settled, the first thing he did was find a quiet spot to call you. Grogu was passed out in his arms and Bo Katan was sitting not too far away in contemplation.

“You alright?” Din questioned.

Bo hummed. “Suppose so. Not how I expected this day to go, but…”

“I’m sorry. About your home.” 

“...Thank you.” Bo said after a beat of hesitation.

Din could tell she was still in distress. Lost in her thoughts. He could’ve pressed further, attempt to help her some more, but it would have to wait. If Din didn’t talk to you right now he’d burst. The excitement of being redeemed mingled with the knowledge that for a brief moment today he thought everything had been over. 

He activated the holocall and leaned against the cave wall. 

When your face appeared on the screen, Din sighed in relief. Being trapped on Mandalore, sending Grogu away, your face had been the last one he thought of. “Ner kar’ta.” He breathed out. Din didn’t even care that Bo was only a few feet away and able to hear his entire conversation. “You are…”

He was going to call her a sight for sore eyes, but you looked more than exhausted. Something was wrong. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes and you didn’t have that same glow that Din admired. Before he could question, you spoke, “You can call! That means you’re not on Mandalore anymore, right? How’d it go?”

“I am redeemed.” Din said with pride and despite how tired you look the smile you wore brightened in excitement. You cried out about how happy you were for him and how proud and how much you missed him and couldn’t wait to see him. Hearing that praise from you was somehow better than hearing the Armorer confirm he was no longer an Apostate. Din shook his head, deciding to steer right back to his concern, “You look terrible, ner kar’ta.”

You forced a chuckle. “Exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

“You are the most stunning woman I have ever known, and every day I get to see you, bask in your beauty,  is a blessing I am undeserving of.” Din said sincerely and he watched your face twist in mild embarrassment. Your smile turning cute and sheepish. He grew serious once more. “But right now, you look ill. Hurt. So I will ask again," Din shook his head, "What. Is. Going. On?”

You twisted your lips, weighing pros and cons, and then with a sigh you lifted your right hand so it came into the screen’s view. Din’s eyes widened at the swollen and discolored look of your fingers wrapped in a makeshift split. 

“Me’bana!? Cuyir gar o'r aaray??” Din barked. Grogu stirred briefly in his arms. “Pehea rucuyir gar shupur'yc!?”

“I don’t speak Mando’a, honey.” You sighed with a small amused smile.

If Din wasn’t so caught off guard and worried about the state of your hand, the nickname that fell from your lips so easily would have made him flush in warmth. Din shook his head. “Are you alright?? What happened?”

“It was stupid.” You shook your head. “Cleaning the bacta tank, I slipped up. Got my hand caught in the filter door.” That wasn’t like you. Typically, you were very cautious and careful with your work. “It looks worse than it actually is, I swear. The swelling has gone down a lot.”

Din narrowed his eyes at your wording. “How much time has passed? When did this happen, ner kar’ta?”

“...Yesterday?” You said it like it was a question.

“Ner kar’ta.”

“Yesterday morning.” You confirmed sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were on Mandalore. No service.”

Din tilted his head, “You tried to hide it at the start of this conversation. If I didn’t press, would you have told me about your accident?” You pressed your lips together and winced. Din blew out a breath of air. “Dank farrik. Ner kar’ta…” 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” You said softly with a frown.

Din shook his head again, keeping his voice firm. “I need to know these things.” The thought that you were injured was staggering, but knowing you could be hurt and keep it from him? All he wanted in life was to protect you. Take care of you. “You need to tell me⏤”

“Why?” Bo suddenly called out loud enough that your face morphed into confusion at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Did you tell her about how you nearly died three times today?”

Din flinched and your jaw popped open. The exhaustion seemed to be wiped away and replaced with a mix of anger and shock. “You what!?” Din began to speak but you cut him off. “You nearly died today!? Din! What the hell is the mystery voice talking about!?”

“Well, it wasn’t⏤”

“You were gonna scold me about my broken hand and not mention multiple near death experiences??” Din winced. That was a fair point. He didn’t see it from that side. The sight of your discolored and swollen digits had blinded him about every other detail of the day. “Din Djarin⏤ Do you have a middle name? I want to yell your entire name at you but⏤ never mind. Just⏤ Maker! Are you alright? Are you safe? Is Grogu⏤”

Din cut in, “Yes. To all of it. Grogu is safe,” He lifted his arm enough that she could see the snoozing boy, “I am safe, I am okay. In fact, I am less injured than you are right now.” He sighed. “And, you’re right. That wasn’t fair of me. I just… I panicked.”

Your gaze softened but the concern remained. “Yeah. I guess… As long as you guys are safe.”

“We are, and we’ll be home soon.” Din promised. Your lips twitched up into a smile. “Who is taking care of you right now?”

You chuckled. “Uh, me?”

Din hummed in displeasure. He should be there to help you⏤ to take care of you. It killed him to be this far from you. A part of him wanted to stand up right now and fly home, but he needed to talk to the Armorer tomorrow. He needed to have something forged.

“Maybe you should stay with Nima…”

“I can take care of myself, Din.” You grinned. “I’m the greatest doctor in the galaxy, remember?” Din chuckled under his breath. “You really are okay, though?”

Din nodded. “I swear to you, ner kar’ta.”

They only spoke for a few more moments because Din was adamant you go to bed even though it wasn’t very late in Nevarro. You just looked so exhausted. Maybe he’d talk to Karga about a vacation. If they got the new physician to move to Nevarro then the city could afford to spare you for a few days. Vanth could stay a little while longer to cover for him. Din just wanted to take you somewhere nice⏤ somewhere relaxing. Though he should probably focus on actually courting you before he starts thinking of honeymoon options.

When the holocall ended, Din glanced over at Bo who simply tilted her head at him. He scoffed, “Really?”

“Seemed like pertinent information.”

“Your hand still looks like shit.”

You glanced up at Nima with a tight lipped smile. “A little rude considering I saved your hand.” She snickered. She wasn’t wrong. The swelling had improved but the bruising still looked Maker awful. Though, with Aayla’s help you were able to get a real splint on it. “I thought you were bringing me lunch.”

“I thought you were going to come with me to lunch.” She argued.

Luckily, the clinic wasn’t busy. So you shrugged out of your white coat, leaving you in just your scrubs, and then followed Nima who was leading the way with a bounce. There had been no further news on the Kurt situation which left you in turmoil. However, Nima had been doing her best to distract you and anytime anxiety did try to wash over you, you just reminded yourself that your boys would be home in the next 48 hours or so. 

“The Razor Crest project is going so well.” Nima clapped her hands. “I mean, we’re still missing some key pieces, but Peli and I are nearly done with the engine rebuild. Can you believe that?” You hummed in interest. It’d be nice to see it eventually. The Crest was such a strong presence in so many of Din’s story and Grogu’s pictures. Obviously, this wasn’t the exact same. Version 2.0, but still. “Peli said⏤”

The sound of a low rumble filled the air. As you, Nima, and all the other citizens standing outside paused to listen to the sound, a large shade began to cover the city. As if the sun was being blocked out. You looked up and your eyes widened at the sight of a huge ship.

“Shit. That’s a Corsair.” Nima mumbled in shock. Just as the words left her mouth, an alarm began to blare loudly and the voice of a droid called for evacuation to the lava fields. You didn't even have a spare second to panic because that’s when blaster fire rained down on Nevarro.

mando'a translations

ner kar'ata: my heart Me'bana?: What happened? Cuyir gar o'r aaray?: Are you in pain? Pehea rucuyir gar shupur'yc?: How were you injuried?

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[sinfulsalutations]

𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕟𝕠𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕗𝕖

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴏʀᴅᴇʀʟɪɴᴇ ꜰᴜʀʀʏ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ-ɪꜱʜ ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ ꜱᴇx, ɢʀᴏᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜɪ!!!

⋆ ★ ᴛᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴡᴀʏʏʏʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴅ. ɴᴏ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀɴ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴏ 🥵🥵🥵 ɪ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʟɪᴋᴇ 5 ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇꜱ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇʟʏ ᴇᴍʙᴀʀʀᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʏᴘᴏꜱ ʟᴍᴀᴏ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴀᴠᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

He's rocking his hips in tandem with yours at the pace of a fucking rabbit. 

It literally took only about ten minutes when he returned to you from a long deployment to get you back in bed again, his body unable to stop itself from thrusting his tight codpiece into your core, looking composed yet utterly desperate for you. And now he’s had you like this, underneath him with your chest pressed to the mattress, squirming and gasping for almost thirty minutes now. He’s only just finally slipped his cock in.

How he's kept his stamina this high up for so long, getting you to come on his mouth and fingers and not even trying to take some pleasure for himself before finally splitting you open with his cock is difficult to figure out.

There's no space to think about that now, though. Not when a new sound has ruptured out of him.

At first, you don't even notice. You're too busy enraptured in your own release and just how damn good he feels inside of you. But then you feel the aftershocks, the vibrations of his voice as he slows his pace down for just a split second. You lift your chin up, tilting it to the side ever so slightly, with the smallest tinge of confusion on your face.

Did Wolffe just... growl?

Not even a typical kind of noise one might make when wrapped up in mind-numbing pleasure. It’s a type of noise that came from his pure, unadulterated, animal instincts.

Shit. Fuck. Why was that so hot?

“Wolffe?” You call out softly. There’s a large pause in the air, something thick. He lifts his body off of you, letting the cool air flow against your back. You sigh again and rest the side of your head on the mattress. 

“Hey…” You whine.

Wolffe doesn't respond; he graces you only with a dark grunt and pulls his hips back, pushing his body against your ass again with a hard thrust.

You can’t help but mewl in a meek voice, involuntarily clenching around him, but you don’t just forget immediately. He's still not kriffing responding to you. Not even a simple acknowledgment. Just expects to get right back to it as if he hadn’t just let out the most sinful noise fall from his mouth. Even worse is that you’re absolutely deadset on hearing it again. You can’t just continue like it was nothing.

So you decide to pull out the big guns.

“C'mon, I liked it,” You say with a vexatious, teasing tone, ending it with a borderline pornographic moan. To further effect, you pull your hips away, pushing yourself back onto his cock with a soft hum and resting your chin atop your shoulder. His eyes are cast onto yours without any intention of straying away, and his fingers curl rougher into your skin. He raises an eyebrow. You smirk victoriously and tilt your head with sweet, imploring eyes.

“Can you do it again for me?” The ask can’t be that big… can it?

He only grumbles, eyes finally looking away, and he moves to place his body back on top of yours. Like he’d never stopped, he rocks you again; a steady collision of each of your bodies with each other. You moan pleasantly, fingers curling into the mattress, but feel the difference in how he moves. His hands melodically, yet sporadically squeeze your hips, and you don’t even realize that his hand has moved and is slowly rubbing tight circles on your clit until the shiver runs through you.

“What do you want me to do for you?” He then asks, low and husked, against your ear.

The only thing that comes out of you is a whine because Wolffe blatantly decides to press onto your clit and thrust into you harder. There’s a giddy smile on his stupidly handsome face, and you know this without seeing it because of just how pronounced it is against your skin. “Gotta say it clearly, sweet doll.”

You’re just barely able to get your words out through desperate whines and soughs.

“Growl for me.”

A melodic hum is his only response, and he continues thrusting. You clench, once, twice, eyebrows furrowed. You try to sobber out his name, but it comes more jumbled; both of you can feel how absolutely wrecked you are.

Then, Wolffe finally speaks.

“Think you’re forgetting something important at the end there.”

Oh, this asshole.

“Please,” you beg anyway, because this asshole has you whipped. Then, only then, do you get what you want.

He sounds like an animal behind you, the rumble of his voice seeping into your skin like a snake, your entire body being inflicted with waves of absolute filth. Not just growls, even; he’s letting out the most deprived and primal noises leave his throat. How long has this pent up? Because there’s absolutely no way he’s just now susceptible to carnal noises from pleasure.

Either way, he sounds delighted.

You’re feeling just about the same as well.

tags: @dukeoftheblackstar @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius

[mandos-mind-trick]

Please Don't Be Gentle

Summary: You asked for it. He's more than willing to comply.

Pairing: Crosshair x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, rough sex, blowjobs, rough blow jobs, hair pulling, slight choking, manhandling, the author’s glove kink showing back up, brief fingering but otherwise not much foreplay

A/N: I'm trying out something new before I get real busy. Just some short drabbles of varying filth levels. (There will be some sfw ones as well, I was just in a mood today.) I say short but it's like 500 words so...

MASTERLIST

Your knees ache. Not that you could really complain with Crosshair’s cock stuffed in your mouth. You’ve been here probably too long, on your knees before him. He hasn’t cum yet, one hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, the other tangled in your hair. You meet his gaze, his eyes squinted as they always seem to be as he stares down at you. He loves your mouth. He’d told you before you started. 

He’d spent a long time kissing you, mapping your mouth with his tongue before you’d uttered the words that had put you in this position in the first place.

“Please don’t be gentle with me.” 

Crosshair’s lips had lifted in a smirk, eyes going dark before his hand wrapped around your throat and his teeth sunk into your lip hard enough to draw blood.Not long after you’d been forced into this position. Your jaw aches, and you know your voice is going to be hoarse tomorrow. 

Crosshair releases the base of his dick, the hand in your hair forcing you forward until you physically can’t take anymore. You grip his thighs to steady yourself, breathing through your nose as he holds you there for a moment. You choke around him and he releases you, letting you draw back off his cock completely. You take a deep breath, coughing a little at the irritation in your throat. 

He still hasn’t cum yet, cock hard and angry as he stares down at you like you’re nothing but dirt on the bottom of his boot. His hand grabs the back of your neck, dragging you to your feet and onto the table in the middle of the room. 

Your body hits the table with a thud, hard enough to draw a noise from you.. The hand on the back of your neck keeps you from moving, a booted foot pushing your legs further apart. You’re practically dripping, naked folds glistening in the low light of the barracks. 

Gloved fingers trail your folds, ghosting over your clit. You’re just far enough back you can’t use the table to your advantage, for any sort of friction you’re desperate for. A glove hits the table next to your face before two fingers are stuffed into your pussy. You moan as you finally get some relief. 

“Hear that?” He says, his words slithering under the squelch of your soaked pussy. “So wet for me.” 

“For you,” You gasp, hips pressing back against his hand. “Only for you.” 

He chuckles, withdrawing his fingers. “Good girl.” 

His fingers are quickly replaced by his cock, and he gives you no time to adjust as he sinks into you to the hilt. You whine at the discomfort of being stretched so suddenly, hands curling into fists where they rest against the table. 

“Still so kriffing tight.” Crosshair gasps, his free hand trailing over your back. “You’ve been neglected too long.” 

You whimper, pushing up onto your toes as he begins to move his hips, forcing you against the table as he thrusts into you. You moan and whine as he fucks you, legs trembling from how close you are already. You’ve been wet since he proposed this idea, wet at the thought of taking him, of letting him have his way. 

The hand on the back of your neck forces your face to the other side, your lips parting as you get closer and closer to the edge. Your eyes meet Hunter’s where he’s seated just mere feet away, secured tightly to a chair. 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations

[yoitsjay]

Sparks of Freedom

Pairings: The Bad Batch (minus echo) x Male Mando reader

Summary: you had been exiled from your clan for just wanting to be free. But on Corellia you quickly found where and who you belonged with.

Warnings: cannon typical violence

Word count: 2,548

When the Mandalorian conflict first began, a lot of people were upset. Mandalore was always a different planet and it still is, however the new Dutchess sparked a lot of conflict. Many mandalorians wanted to embrace their old culture and fighting lifestyle, so many mandalorians left and built up their clans on other outer rim planets. Minus death watch which stayed close to Mandalore, plotting some revolution from what you last heard.

You were the son of your clan’s chief and leader, her only child and therefore heir to the Chief’s title. You however didn’t want the responsibility of leadership. You never did. Your father, before he died, always said you had a wild spirit, not one to be tamed by that of titles or romance. Your mother always tried to snuff that flame out of you… until you finally had enough.

“Enough of these petty arguments buir! Pick someone else to take leadership over this clan! There are many capable soldiers who would lead these people right! I would not. I’m reckless and all I want is to be free and travel where I want to! So I'm leaving and you can't kriffing stop me!” You shouted at your mother whilst gathering your weapons and civvy clothes into a large bag. You had a ship luckily enough for you, albeit a bit busted and in dire need of repairs…

Your mother let out a growl as she bawled her hands into fists, before taking a deep breath, turning her head away for a moment. “You know what? you're right. You wouldn’t make a good leader. So go ahead, leave. but don’t you dare show your face back here Y/n, you are exiled!” She shouted, storming away just as you turned to look at her, shock lacing your features.

You sucked in a deep breath before placing your helmet over your head. Your clans colors were elegant, black gold and purple details painted across your armor… but now you knew you couldn’t wear it…

you finished packing as quickly as you could manage, throwing your stuff in your bag before walking out of what was once your quarters. You could tell your fellow clan members- well they weren't your clan members anymore because of your stubborn mother… You could tell that the other Mandalorians were staring, having heard your argument and then your exile. Whispers could also be heard, but you just stared straight ahead, walking out to your ship.

You climbed inside, throwing your bag somewhere random as you went up to the cockpit, checking the important systems. You glanced out the window, staring down at your home. With another sigh you started to lift off, turning your ship so it was facing away as you flew it into the sky and up through the atmosphere.

You remembered when you were first learning how to fly, your father was with you in the co-pilot's seat, instructing you how to turn and speed up or slow down and make fighting maneuvers… You pressed a few buttons, priming your ship for hyper space after selecting some random planet off the holo map… well it wasnt that random, you knew this place was a good hub for trade and ship maintenance, and probably bounty work too, which you would have to begin doing…

You plotted a course for Corellia, a strong feeling in your gut that seemed to guide you there, and maybe it was for bounty work, or for good parts to fix your ship… or the people you’d meet. However, you tried not to dwell on the what if’s of your situation and you jumped into hyperspace. You leaned back into your seat, removing your helmet as you set it on the co-pilot's seat, hesitating for a moment before placing it down and standing up. Might as well do some repairs while you were waiting, you did have some time after all…

-

Urgent alarms blaring ripped you from your focus underneath a wiring panel and your ship shook violently as you were ripped from hyperspace. You quickly ran to the pilot's seat, grabbing the controls as you swerved to avoid an incoming republic freighter. You cursed under your breath, patching through your coms to the lead ship which was already flagging you. “Unidentified ship please slow your course or we will have to slow you ourselves.” One of the pilots said, and you huffed. “I'm trying my best here but my ship's controls just crashed on me, I can't stop my course, I'm gonna need an aided landing here.” You replied, sending your necessary codes to actually get onto the planet. After a few moments some more fighter ships flanked you, and started aiding you with the landing sequence as they guided you on world and to one of the larger space ports.

“We’ve got you shatter 1, prepare for a bumpy landing.” one of the pilots announced after receiving your codes and ship name. With their aid you successfully crash landed in one of the docking bays, one of your landing legs having snapped which caused half your ship to tilt to the side. But that was a worry for another time as the republic fighters commed you again. “get your ship fixed shatter 1, you need it.” The pilot teased before the transmition ended.

You let out a slight chuckle before gathering your things, slinging your rifle across your back as you fastened your helmet over your head, grabbing your credit pouch from your duffel bag, tying it to the front of your belt by your blaster and a couple knives you had as well. You made your way off your ship, taking a loot at the damage.

The engines in the back were smoking pretty hardcore, and you'd need to replace the hyper drive and many other necessary components. You shook your head, knowing how many credits that was going to cost you… you were better off buying a new ship.

One of the mechanics followed by their droids walked out and you sighed, turning to look at them as you gave them about 10,000 credits out of the 50,000 you had. “Fix what you can with that.” You muttered before walking past them and out of the port. You could see hundreds of people already, having just set one foot out of the spaceport. There were stalls and shops further in selling knockoff trinkets or genuine items, however none of this caught your eye.

You continued walking, keeping one hand firmly on your pouch of credits, keeping your items close so that no ruffian would dare steal or pickpocket you. As you continued on you heard many vendors shouting about what they sold, whether it was information, or food.

You kept your eyes and ears open, searching for anything that resembled a bounty hunter guild, or a bar that had bounty stations… Eventually your search led you to this one place, which was definitely a shit hole with sleezebags and drunkards hanging off the arms of poor women who just wanted to be left alone…

However, the minute you stepped foot in the bar it went silent, and all heads turned to you, staring at your armor especially. Seeing an armored Mandalorian outside of Mandalore was a rare thing, especially with the duchess preaching pacifism.

You walked forward, the sound of your boots mixed with the clanking of your metal armor filling the area as you reached the bartender. “I’m looking for a bounty stand.” You spoke simply, your helmet having deepened your voice, making it slightly crackly as well. But that alone seemed to intimidate the barkeep as he shakily pointed to a room with a curtain. You nodded and walked towards that room, poking your head inside to check for any surprises before walking in.

After successfully getting a bounty for here in Corellia you walked back out towards the bar area, putting the fob and the puck in a little satchel hanging from your right side. You walked to the bar, ordering a drink before walking to a more secluded table in the back, removing your helmet and setting it down on the table. You held your drink in your hands, swirling the liquid in the glass before taking a sip.

Everyone seemed to be back to whatever games they were playing, ignoring your presence now just as you ignored theirs. However, just as you stood up after your drink, you felt something snap from your belt. Looking down you realized a small twi’lek girl had snatched your coin purse. With not a second wasted you placed your helmet over your head as you gave chase. She was fast but your legs were longer and they carried you further.

You chased her down the street, watching as she made a sharp turn down an alley. You grunted, activating your jetpack as you flew into the alley, landing in front of her, grabbing her arms to stop. She struggled against your grip, however you unrelented, instead crouching in front of her as you snatched the coin bag from her hands. “Enough!” You exclaimed, seemingly startling her into stopping. “Here.” You muttered, taking out a few credits, enough for a few decent meals and maybe a new coat, placing it in her hands.

“We all need to survive, kid. but don't make a habit of stealing from Mandalorians, just ask.” You muttered, rubbing her shoulder before letting her go. She stared at you for a moment, glancing behind you before running off down the alley, meeting up with some of her friends as she showed the credits she got, all of them running off to buy food, probably.

You suddenly heard someone clearing their throat behind you as you stood up, you turned your head, seeing three burly men with their arms crossed over your chest. You sighed, putting the credit bag in your satchel, turning to face them fully. “So armored Mando’s are real then.. wonder how well they can actually fight, considering their dutchess is a coward.” One hissed, and you just hummed in response, “I agree.” You replied simply, taking one of them by surprise.

He quickly gathered himself however, pulling out a knife while the others readied their fists. You shook your head. “Look guys, I really dont wanna have to do this.” You stated, tilting your head ever so slightly, watching… waiting. “hand over your credits and we can leave you alone, but we have you outnumbered… and surrounded.” The leader said, and you turned your head and ducked just in time for a fist to come flying towards your head.

You quickly grabbed the arm of the one who tried to punch you, kneeing their cut as you threw them over your shoulder towards the leader. You tightened your hands into fists, raising them at chest level as another one of the goons came running towards you, the second one not far behind.

They tried to throw punches at the vulnerable spots in your armor before quickly switching to knives to make it more effective. However as they jabbed their knives at you you simply moved your body in a way where they would either hit your armor or they wouldn't hit you at all whilst you made a succession of quick punches. One of the goons swung for your helmet, to knock it off or to actually punch you, you didn't know. You just ducked, landing a swift punch to his gut before landing a hard punch to his jaw, hearing a crack whilst also rendering one of them unconscious.

You took care of the last goon quite quickly too, pushing his limp body on top of the others that you had already beaten, leaving the leader last. “Well? still want my credits?” You asked, however before he could charge, you heard the sound of a stun blaster hit the leader, and he quickly fell to the ground, and standing behind him was a group of four soldiers in interesting black and red armor, with a skull decorating each of their pauldrons.

“I could have handled him” You told the soldiers with a slight kid to your words as you took a step forward, watching as they removed their helmets. You could immediately tell that these men were clones, but not like any you've seen before. They had varying heights and different looks and attributes to them, but each one of them had a part that tied them to the clone hood, and that you picked up on quite quickly.

You stepped out of the alleyway, removing your helmet now as you stood face to face with the group of four, seeing their curious looks. “Oh we saw! you're good.” One of them spoke up, the biggest of the four and also the happiest it seemed, as he was the only one grinning. You then looked down slightly at the man who stood in front of you and in front of the other three clones, and he extended his hand for you to shake.

“Im Hunter, we were making a supply run when we bumped into a young girl, she told us that a Mandalorian gave her credits, but she had to run because the corellian thugs had showed up, so we headed over to see if you needed to help… But it seemed like you had it covered.” the one called Hunter stated, and you shook his hand firmly.

“Yeah they were nothing compared to what I've trained with, but I appreciate you taking care of the last one for me, save the bruised knuckles.” You joked, letting your hand fall to your side. “The names Y/n, I just got here actually, my ship’s having some troubles and I had to make an emergency landing in one of the larger hangars, so I'm just trying to make some credits to either get a new ship, or get it fixed.” You explained, and Hunter nodded, humming as well.

He turned to his brothers for a moment, whispering to them before nodding. “Well maybe we can help you with that. If you don't mind taking some republic work, we could take you on our ship for a bit, and you could help us with some missions. We could definitely use your particular skill set.” Hunter explained, and you hummed, staring at them all before you shrugged. “Why not?”

And that was the day you met your real family, your clan. You ended up becoming a permanent member of the Bad Batch, despite you not being a clone, however the republic and whoever was in charge of overseeing the clone battalions had agreed that adding a skilled warrior to an already skilled and unorthodox group just might be what they needed to help turn the tides.

That day was the day you had taken a paint stipper to your armor, seeing the beautiful shine of the beskar, only to take black and red paint and cover it up all over again, matching the theme of the bad batch. You took aspects of each of the members designs, but the prominent thing was the skull that rested on your right shoulder pauldron.

These men became your family… and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[skywlker-sluvtt]

✊ and 🍷headcanon with anakin?? 💘💝💞

AHHHHHHH!!!! YESSSS!!!! and thank you for the hearts bb

anakin x afab!reader 18+ below the cut nsfw emoji ask game

✊ masturbation headcanon

✧ currently thinking about anakin who once visited a sex shop in the lower levels and purchased a fleshlight for himself. he walked in blushing and trying to hide his face. he wore civvies so no one knew he was a jedi and was quick to find a pocket pussy and buy it without looking the salesperson in the eye.

✧ as soon as he returned to the temple a pit of regret formed in his stomach. where would he hide this? how's he gonna clean it? what if someone finds it? he was close to throwing it away immediately. throwing it in a trash compactor or something.

✧ but the horny fuck just had to try it once. he unboxed it quickly locked his door and sat on his bed. his dick grew in his pants just looking at the silicone blue pussy. imagining how tight it would feel wrapped around his aching cock.

✧ slipping some lube in it he relaxed slightly pushing the toy against his tip and whimpering at the contact. anakin was already leaking precum as he slipped in further. the cold lube made him shiver before the lovely tightness became warm.

✧ he began using it thrusting in and out of it wildly. the smooth ridges inside attacking his cock in the most wonderful way possible. biting down on his pillow he whimpered and whined imagining it was a woman beneath him. he wondered if this was what a woman would feel like. because if it was any better than this he wouldn't last a second.

✧ anakin squeezed it tighter gasping at how good his cock felt inside of it. throbbing like he never had before. within a minute he was cumming deep inside the toy, sweating and groaning like he was possessed. slowly pulling out he looked at the silicone pussy and sighed now feeling fucking embarrassed he just did that.

✧ it's his new favourite thing in the world now tho until he meets you 😏

🍷 tipsy sex headcanon

✧ it isn't often anakin has the chance to get tipsy. drink one too many and feel a bit woozy.

✧ he and the 501st had been thrown a celebration in their honour off planet, for ending the many battles that were destroying the planet. the queen begged them to stay a day longer to celebrate. and how could anakin say no to such a kind gesture? since you were helping him on the mission he bought you as his date.

✧ he had one too many drinks after fives bought him multiple with the goal of getting his general shit-faced. you had to admit you were careful about the amount you were drinking either. it didn't take long till anakin had his arm slung around your shoulders.

✧ he incoherently whispered into your ear, the only words you could make out were "fuck me" and "find a room" you pulled him up and the two of you stumbled into a bathroom.

✧ "did i mention how kriffing pretty you look?" he slurred now only noticing the effects of those drinks fives gave him. "mmm no tell me more" you grinned pulling your panties down for him.

✧ "look better than anyone, even the queen. y'know you should be the queen" he chuckled gripping your hips firmly for some kind of balance. "come on ani! fuck me" you whine impatiently. he's slowly trying to work himself out of his many layers.

✧ when he finally gets it in you two end up fucking like rabbits over the sink. you both try to dirty talk each other just slurring and giggling incoherently. you could swear these were the best orgasms he'd ever given you, but that could've just been the drinks talking.

✧ while he has you up on the bathroom sink he's whining at you to pull his hair. anakin likes the pain a little too much when he's drunk, but who are you to judge. alcohol also makes him last endlessly, so be prepared for at least three loads 🤭

✧ when he's tipsy he was no control over how loud he is btw. fives and jesse were pissing themselves laughing down the hallway when they realised and were definitely going to bring it up the next morning.

[millersdjarin]

in these trying times

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: G (all audiences, but my blog is always 18+)

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags/Warnings: diabetes, hypoglycaemia, almost-fainting, protective!din, secrets, food

Masterlist & Request Info

Based on this request! ❤️

It’s reckless, and you know it. Din would be furious if he knew what you were keeping from him; you’d be furious with him if he kept something so important about his health from you. Something that, as his partner, you should definitely know.

But it’s for the best. It was hard enough for Din to open himself up to the possibility of having a partner, both romantically and in the field, and he doesn’t need a reason to worry about you, not after he’s finally gotten over his anxieties. You’ve had this for years, and it’s under control; it has been for a long time. There’s no need to worry him unnecessarily. It doesn’t get in the way or change how you work, how well you fight. 

Life has been busy. There are always people after Din; people who haven’t got the memo yet that the kid is no longer wanted by the Empire. And, on top of that, you’re working for the New Republic, and there are always jobs that need done. 

Meals get skipped. Snacks are the last thing on Din’s mind. Not on yours; you sneak ration bars to missions and munch them down whenever you get chance. 

Din catches you eating one when you’re rushing down an alleyway back towards the ship, Imperials on your heels. 

He looks at you and almost stops in his tracks, confusion evident in his body language even though you can’t see his face. “Where did you get that?” He asks. “Why are you eating it now?” 

You shove the last mouthful in your mouth and grimace at the feeling of your partially-full stomach jostling around as you run. It’s better than the feeling of a low blood sugar, but still, not exactly pleasant. A needs must, you suppose. “I’m hungry,” you say to him, like that should be enough of an excuse. 

It’s not. “We don’t have time to have a picnic right now,” Din protests gruffly. The two of you reach the end of the alleyway, and as you stop at the opening to the street, Din turns back, shoots the two Imps on your tail in two quick blasts, sending them to the floor. “We can eat later.” 

You’re five klicks from the ship. You won’t make it ’til later. He doesn’t need to know that. 

Shoving the wrapper into your pants pocket, you shoot him a confident grin. “It’s not like these Imps are making it difficult,” you say with a shrug of a shoulder, “they’re making it a picnic for us.” 

More footsteps approach from behind you. Three stormtroopers are rushing forwards, lifting their blasters. 

So, not so much of a picnic. 

But it’s fine. Din drops it; maybe because he’s too busy fighting off the enemies dropping down from the surrounding roofs to question why you felt the need for a little snack mid-fight. 

-

It happens again when you’re trying to lay low in a market town as you hunt for your target. Din is on a nearby roof, watching you through his rifle scope. You’re trying to sift through the crowd unnoticed, a piece of beige fabric covering your head, helping you blend in with the residents, when you notice your hands start to shake. 

It’s been a few hours since you last ate. There wasn’t time on the way here to stop and grab something. 

You don’t have to test your blood to know you’re getting low; you need some sugar right kriffing now or this is going to go South pretty fast. 

There are some credits in your pocket and a fruit stand across the street. Casually, you head over, reaching for the credits and handing them over as you approach the vendor. 

“What are you doing?” Din’s voice in your ear asks, doubly modulated through the comms. 

You don’t answer him; you can’t without blowing your cover. Instead you just select some produce—a handful of berries that you know are good for sudden lows, and a bottle of pure juice—and offer the vendor a friendly smile. You open the bottle straight away, take several gulps before starting on the berries, holding them out in the palm of your hand.

“Is this part of your cover?” Din asks. He knows you can’t answer him. “You’re supposed to be blending in.” 

Stop asking me fucking questions and maybe I will, you think to yourself as you drink up half the bottle of juice in ten seconds. 

“The target’s here for limited time,” Din reminds you, sounding impatient and confused as to your sudden interest in snacking in the midst of a hunt. “We have to move.” 

It’s fine, you want to tell him. I’m still headed in the right direction. 

You get the target just fine despite your close brush with a low. Din doesn’t ask you about it later. 

So, it’s never really got in the way.

Except, now it is.

Dank fucking farrik, now it is. 

Despite the fact that you’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking in extra shots or ration bars in the midst of battles, today, you haven’t had chance to stop for even a second. 

And now your vision is blurring, your head is spinning, and your legs are starting to give out beneath you. 

Right when a bunch of syndicate soldiers are closing in on both of you in the middle of a forest clearing. Right when Din needs you to be on your shit, to be there for him; right when he puts the most trust in you. 

The last thing you remember thinking before falling to your knees is that you’ve let him down. 

He calls your name from across the clearing, concern and confusion evident in his voice. There’s a mercenary headed straight for you; you can only just see through the black, blurry tunnel around your vision, can barely focus on anything other than the racing of your heart and the cold sweat beading on your forehead. Din is fighting off his own group of enemies and you can’t lift your arms, can’t reach for your blaster. You can barely hear anything, but you vaguely register the shot of a blaster headed your way, the bright shine of a Beskar-covered man diving in front of you, a blaster bolt hitting the metal with a loud clang. 

Din’s saying your name once all the bodies have dropped. There’s no more threat from enemies, but he sounds more worried than ever, breathing fast through his modulator as he pulls you into his lap. He’s asking what’s wrong, if you can hear him, if you’re hurt. 

You try to pull yourself up, but the weakness is too much. 

“Sugar,” you say breathily, feeling like your throat is shaking with your hands. “I need—food. It’s—blood sugar.” 

“What?” Din questions, sounding more confused. He presses something on his vambrace, then holds it up to scan your body. Something shines red on your vitals. “I don’t—we don’t have any rations. The ship is a few klicks away, can you walk—?” 

You shake your head. “I—I need it faster, if we walk back…”

Din’s concern is only growing as he nods with understanding. He puts his arm under your leg, the other around your back, and lifts you up. “Can you hold on?” 

“I’m—” Lifting your arms around his neck, you manage to grasp your hands together over his back, just barely hanging on with trembling fingers. “So weak, Din…” 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. I’m gonna fly us back, just hold on as much as you can.” 

You’re too tired and breathless to respond. All you can do is hold on and close your weak eyes as Din’s jetpack activates and the two of you are lifting off the ground and into the sky. 

He gets you back to the ship in a minute. The weakness is going to your very core, down to your bones, and it’s been a long fucking time since you’ve had a low this bad. But, then again, it’s been a long time since you’ve gone without food for this long, too.

“Fast sugar,” Din says as he hands you a bar of chocolate and pours a packet of juice into a glass. You reach out for them, but your hands are shaking so much that it’s hard to hold the glass without the juice just spilling everywhere. “Here,” Din offers, lifting the glass up to your mouth and helping you take a sip. Once you’ve had a little, he puts it down and gets to work breaking the chocolate into little bite-sized pieces. 

“Under my bunk, I’ve got a blood sugar monitor,” you tell him after your fifth piece. “In my medpack.” The symptoms aren’t fading yet, but it’s not usually long until you start to feel the sugar kick in. 

Din hesitates, probably confused as to why you have that, but then he nods and heads off into your bunk, leaving you with the chocolate and juice. 

You manage to finish the rest of it alone. The shaking is subsiding slowly but surely, the sensation of chocolate in your mouth distracting you for a little while. 

He’s back in a few minutes carrying your medpack. It’s got your meds and your monitor; you fish them both out and prick your finger immediately. Sure enough, it’s dangerously low. There’s a timer on the side of it, so you set it for ten minutes, making sure you don’t forget to test it again. 

Din just stands there, watching. You tip your head back against the sofa but you can feel his eyes on you, even though his visor; can picture it in your mind, him just standing there with his hands hanging at his sides, studying you as if just staring will help him to understand what’s happening. 

He’s entirely silent for ten minutes. He checks your vitals with his vambrace a few more times, but doesn’t say a word. 

The timer goes off. When you test your blood again, it’s back to safe levels, and you breathe a sigh of relief. As always after a low, you feel fucking exhausted and washed-out, and definitely need a proper meal as soon as possible. But you don’t feel like you’re about to pass out any second anymore, so there’s that. 

The next sigh that you let out is one of nerves. You breathe in deep, bracing yourself to look back at Din and face the inevitable questions. 

When your eyes meet his visor, your stomach twists a little in guilt. “I can explain,” you say, not needing to see his face to know that he’s probably raising an expectant eyebrow at you. 

“How do you feel?” He asks instead of What the fuck?

You swallow heavily. “Better,” you say. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?”

“For…making you finish the mission alone. For being a useless partner.” 

“That’s what you’re sorry about?” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed, swallowing yet again in the hopes it will dampen some of the guilt rising up your throat. (It doesn’t). You put the mission in severe jeopardy; you put the both of you in danger. Din trusted you to be his partner, to get the mission done effectively, to not almost die in the middle of it. And you let him down. “Well…yeah,” you answer, like it should be obvious. “I let you down. I was a bad partner.” 

“Yes, you were.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, I’ll be more helpful—”

“You weren’t a bad partner because you almost passed out,” Din interrupts you. He doesn’t sound angry, which you make note of and let calm your nerves. “You were a bad partner because you didn’t tell me about…this,” he gestures to your med kit, your machines and your medicines. 

Oh. Right. 

Of course he’s upset you kept this from him. 

He sighs. Stepping closer, he sits beside you on the couch, leaving just inches between you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is softer than you’d expected; not a trace of accusation or anger. Just…concern. Disappointment.

You can’t look at him. “I didn’t want you to worry. Or…to think that I couldn’t do my job.” 

“I am always going to worry about you, Riduur,” he says. 

“Exactly. I didn’t want to give you another reason to worry.” 

“Is this why you’ve been stopping mid-mission to eat so often?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.” 

“I just thought…” he fades off, then shrugs. “I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I should have asked.” He sounds thoughtful. You shake your head in response. Then, he turns to look at you, and asks, “How long have you…been sick?” 

“I got diagnosed with diabetes when I was nineteen. I’ve had it a long time now. And I’m usually much better at controlling it than this, but I…we’ve been so busy.” 

Din sighs softly and hangs his head. His hands clench into fists on his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes snap up to look at him. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have let you neglect your health.” 

“You had no idea,” you assure him, putting a hand on the armour over his thigh. “I’m the one who kept this from you. How were you supposed to know?” 

“With or without diabetes, I should be taking better care of you.” 

“No, that’s not the lesson we’re taking away from this.” 

He looks at you again. The black T of his visor is emotionless, but you can imagine the quirk of his eyebrow. “It’s not?” 

“No,” you almost laugh, because how is he suddenly making this his fault? 

“Then what is?”

“That I should’ve told you. That I put us in danger by not letting you know something that could’ve affected the mission. Something that could’ve…hurt us.” 

He stares at you. Unmoving, unreadable. 

“Did you make me say the lesson out loud on purpose by pretending you feel guilty?” You ask him.

“No,” he replies, deadpan, “I’d never.” 

“You would.” 

“I didn’t,” he says, this time with a slight smile in his voice. He reaches out, takes your hand. “I meant it when I said I should have noticed.” 

“I was actively hiding it,” you say. “I don’t blame you. It’s my fault.” 

“You should have told me,” he agrees, albeit reluctantly. “But now that I know, we can make sure this never happens again.” 

“I’ll just be more careful, and always bring a snack, even if I think we’re not going to be out for long.” 

He squeezes your hand, still looking at you through the visor. “Will you tell me about it?” He asks earnestly. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“What you need, what to look out for,” he answers. “How you manage it. I want to make sure you’re safe. That at least one of us can be taking proper care of you.” 

Your heart swells with a sudden bloom of warmth. This isn’t how you expected this to go down: you thought he’d be angry with you for not telling him, and even more angry for almost ruining the mission. 

But, in hindsight, you should’ve known better. Better than to keep this from him, and better than to expect that kind of reaction. 

This is Din. All he’s ever wanted is for you to be safe. Any secret that you’ve told him has always been met with kindness, understanding. Even when you’ve kept it from him for a while. 

“What?” Din asks into the silence that you hadn’t even realised you’d created. You’re just staring at him, warmth in your chest and adoration in your eyes. 

You shake your head. “Nothing,” you say, finding your voice a little choked with tears in your throat, “just. I love you.” 

He softens. Leans in, presses the beskar over his forehead to yours. “I love you too, Cyar’ika.” 

You close your eyes. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.” 

“I know. It’s alright. But please tell me how we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“I will,” you promise, pushing your nose into his helmet for a second before pulling away, giving him a sheepish smile. “But first, I need a proper meal.” 

notes: finally getting to one of yall's requests! i've been so busy but thank you for your patience, and thank you to this anon for this request. as a fellow diabetic, i can relate, and i would want din there for a low if i had to have one, lmao.

hope you enjoyed! reblogs & comments so so appreciated if you can ❤️

din taglist: @brokenghostgirl1 @astronymity

[corrieguards]

Cody x reader Summary: Cody's in a sour mood, injured both in pride and flesh. So when a cute medic comes to check up on him, they are faced with one grumpy Cody. Word Count: 1,9k T/W: none, just Cody being a little shit

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Today had not been a good day for Cody.

His first misfortune of the day happened when General Kenobi was transferred over to reinforce another battalion, right in the middle of his own raging battle. Not only that but he also took both his medics along with him, leaving Cody as the sole commander of 600 men, some of them seriously injured.

To make matters worse, when he sent a request for backup, the Council replied by dispatching the only other available battalion. And when the gun ships arrived, a relieved Cody rushing to meet them as they landed, who did he see stroll out of them?

Anakin fucking Skywalker. 

Hopes crushed, he reluctantly began to brief the general on the current situation and offer up some of his own opinions on counter attacks only for Anakin to dismiss them. Plans he has spent all kriffing night making replaced with another one of Skywalkers idiotic ideas that was probably going to get them killed.

Then, to add salt to the wound, half way through the battle he got caught in the crossfire of a thermal detonator that some shiny had accidentally thrown too close to him. Not only did he get thrown across the room, but a piece of shrapnel hit him in just the right spot between his armour platings, getting firmly and painfully lodged into his side.

So here he now sat, safely in hyperspace on the way back to the capital. His dignity wounded not only by the fact that Anakins' stupid plan had actually worked, but also because he, Marshal Commander Cody, had got wounded in battle. And not by a clanker or a seppie, no. By a fucking shiny.

All he wanted to do now was take a weeks long nap, but instead he was stuck in the med-bay of the Resolute waiting impatiently for a medic to show up. But apparently even the medics of the 501st were horribly unorganized.

Scowling at the time display on his wrist comm, he scoffed, already itching to get up and leave. Maker, how much longer was this going to take?

He didn’t even need to be here for kriff sake, he was fine. He still had piles of reports to sign off and injured men to check up on. But Rex had made him promise that he would at least let one of his medics take a look at him and Cody was nothing if not a man of his word.

Sensing a movement out the corner of his eye he turned lazily towards the door a bored look on his face.

“Hi, I’m here to be your medic” you smiled as you made your way over to your patient.

“Fucking finally” he muttered under his breath. Your head shot up from your datapad, raising an eyebrow at the trooper in front of you. What was his problem?

Brushing the comment off you plastered on another smile, admittedly less genuine that the first one.

“Ok then, let’s get started shall we?”, you introduced yourself to him, telling him your name and finishing it off by offering him a handshake.

He glanced down at your outstretched hand then back up at you face, eyebrows raising before slowly accepting your offer. His hand engulfed your own as he gave it a small shake, pulling back almost as soon as your hands had touched.

A couple beats of silence passed as you looked at him expectantly. His frown deepened “We gonna get this over with or what?

Your eyes widened, taken aback by his bluntness. Seriously, what was this guy's problem?

“I was waiting for your name...” you said, but this only made him look even more confused.

“Y’know, I tell you my name, you tell me yours…” you explained hesitantly “at least that’s how introductions usually work.”

“I know how they work” he scoffed “I just assumed you already knew who I was. Most people do.”

“Oh. Well I’m kinda new around here. I haven’t even really worked with other battalions outside of the 501st yet”

“Clearly.” he grumbled “The name’s Cody. Marshal Commander Cody.”

Ok so he was definitely wayy to full of himself.

You flashed him an awkward smile “Ok then Cody, how about you lay down for me and we can get started?”

Turning, you started rummaging through ypu med pack when he scoffed, making you look up abruptly only to find him still sitting on the edge of the bed with a bored look on his face.

"How long is this going to take?" he asked harshly.

"Well, that really depends on how bad your injuries are commander, I-"

"Great" he cut you off "then I believe we're finished here” He jumped of the bed, wincing slightly and clutching his side but quickly recovering and playing it off

You caught the movement and opened your mouth, beginning to protest “But commander, you're obviously injured-“

“I’m perfectly fine” he said, pointedly cutting you off yet again “Now if you’d just sign me off I’ll be on my way.”

He held his hand out expectantly, already looking down at his comm as he waited for you to hand him the med report card.

This guy was getting on your last kriffing nerve.

When you didn’t react he slowly looked up at your face “I said-“

“I know what you said” this time you cut him off. He raised an eyebrow at you before straightening up to his whole height and taking a step closer to you.

“Good, then how about you follow orders and hand me that report card, medic”

Oh so this is how this was gonna go. Ok then, two can play that game Cody.

Matching him you took a step closer, now almost chest to chest “I don’t care if you’re Marshal Commander or the fucking Chancellor, when it comes to medical care I outrank you”

He looked taken aback by your outburst but maintained his firm gaze nonetheless. Refusing to back down you glared straight back up at him. Eventually he scoffed “Fine, but make it quick.”

“It will take as long as it needs to take Commander," you replied snarkily “Now please if you would be so kind as to lay down.”

He let out a small huff of disbelief, but settled back down onto the bed anyway. You had balls he’d give you that.

“Not many people talk to me like that y’know” he said as he watched you set up your supplies.

“Yeah? Well maybe they should” you scoffed, making him narrow his eyes at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem like you could be taken down a couple notches is all." You shrugged, gentle hand begining to detach the armour plating covering his chest and stomach. Then as an after thought you added “No offense.”

“How the hell is that not offensive?”

You smirked, an odd satisfaction at getting under his skin.

He sucked in a sharp breath as you carefully peeled up his blacks, your own breath hitching as it revealed the wound hidden underneath.

“And you said you were fine?”

“I am fine” he replied through his teeth. “Minor wounds are an occupational hazard. I’ll live.”

“Cody. This isn’t a ‘minor injury’. This is an open wound that, if not treated correctly will get worse”

“S’nothing I haven’t dealt with before”

“I don’t care if you’ve dealt with it before, right now it’s my job to take care of you and you’ve got to let me do it”

He shot you an annoyed look but settled down nonetheless “Fine”

You nodded satisfied and walked over to the sink, Cody’s eyes following your every move as you picked up a cloth, letting it soak completly under the tap before carefully wringing it out.

Turning around, you jumped slightly upon seeing the commanders gaze watching you intently. You cleared your throat, walking back over to him and taking a seat on the stool next to the bed. Gently, you pressed the cloth to his skin but quickly pulled it back when he hissed. 

“Sorry” you mumbled “Is it too hot? Too cold?”

“No, no it’s fine, just stings a little”

Nodding you carried on rubbing of the dried blood and dirt spread around his wound, making a conscious effort to be as soft as you could. Once you were satisfied you lent in, taking a closer look at the now clean wound. You hummed and began rummaging in your med pack as he watched you closely.

“What? What is it?” he asked almost as if he was... nervous? No, it couldn’t be.

“It’s just gonna need a couple stitches that’s all, nothing to worry about”

He swallowed as you carefully threaded your needle and lined it up near the start of his cut. Taking one last glance up at him to make sure he was ok you found him clenching his fists tightly by his side, eyes firmly shut and chest rising and falling quickly. 

Who knew he would be so nervous about a tiny needle. You shook your head smiling softly at his nervousness before slowly pushing the needle in. Immediately he flinched, sucking in a breath and clenching his jaw. 

You stilled, glancing up at him again “Hold still for me please.”

“I’m trying” he muttered angrily, “but you’re fucking stabbing me”

You chuckled, focusing back on your work “On come on now, I thought you were ‘big tough Marshal Commander Cody’. People won’t find you nearly as intimidating when they find out you can’t handle a little needle and threat”

“I can handle it.” he growled. 

“Sure doesn’t seem like it” you smirked finishing up the last stitch and tying a careful knot. “But no need to worry Cody, I wouldn’t dare tarnish your reputation like that”.

Taking out a bacta patch you ripped the wrapping off.

“It can be our little secret” you teased, sending him a wink. He rolled his eyes at you, only making you smirk wider when you saw him trying to hide a smile. Huh, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

You lined the bacta patch up, before giving him a warning “This is gonna sting a little”

He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as you pushed it down, looking up at him apologetically and muttering a quiet “Sorry”

Finally you straightened up, dusting off your hands “Okay the Cody, you’re as good as new” 

He groaned as he sat up, watching you fill out the report card before finally signing it off and handing it to him. He took it from you muttering out a quiet “Thanks”

Smirking, you put a hand behind your ear teasingly  “Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that”

He rolled his eyes at you, ghost of a smile gracing his lips “I said” he enunciated each word carefully “Thank you”

“My pleasure Marshal Commander” you grinned, giving him an exaggerated bow. He let out a small huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh before re-attaching his armour and heading towards the exit.

“Oh and Commander” you shouted when he was half way out the door. He hummed, turning to look at you.

“I’ll see you around Cody” you winked playfully. He shook his head, rolling his eyes but not trying to hide the smile rising on his face.

“Sure, I'll see you around” he replied, winking back before slipping out the door.

You stood, staring dumbly at the empty space where he’d just been standing, feeling a blush slowly creep up to your cheeks.

Did- did he just wink at you?

---

Pt.2 here

A/N: I can't shake the feeling that I didn't get Cody quite right in this? Idk something just feels off. So please feel free to send me some constructive criticism. Key word being constructive. I will most definitely cry if you are mean to me lmao

Anywho, hope y'all enjoyed it anyways ❤️ :D

my masterlist

[electrikworm]

5 times Wrecker protected his siblings and 5 times they protected him: Chapter 7

Early into their active duty, Wrecker is badly injured on a mission. Tech is left to try and get his vod out of danger, all whilst blaming himself for Wrecker being hurt in the first place.

--

Content warning: Blood and injury, eye injury

Very hastily edited chapter! Probably lots of mistakes in it

Hunter's physically 20 in this, Tech 19 and Wrecker and Crosshair are about late 17.

Read on Ao3

“Hurry up Wrecker.“ Tech hisses into his comm, taking out two B1's marching through the narrow door only using one of his blasters. There's a few seconds of silence, no more droids advancing on his immediate position, and that's all Tech needs to get the door closed. He'll have some semblance of peace to extract the data they need.

If Wrecker gets the generator running again.

“I could hurry if your directions were better.” Wrecker answers. Tech sighs.

“How kriffing hard is it to follow 'two lefts, then a right'? It's one corridor away from the one I'm in.” Tech has no idea how Wrecker is taking so long. Luckily the data they need has to be deleted manually, and Tech can prevent anyone from doing that himself. But if the generator is destroyed before Wrecker gets there, the mission will be a write off either way.

“Yeah, yeah.” Wrecker says, blaster fire heard in the background. “Think I found it.” Tech doesn't comment on the amount of time it took him to do so again.

“Get it running. Remember what I told you?” Tech says.

“Yeah, I know. A switch or something.” Those are not the exact words Tech used, but correcting Wrecker would be a pointless waste of time. “I see it.”

Finally. For a moment, the terminal in front of Tech powers up, but just as he moves to extract the data, it goes dark again. “Wrecker, what did you do?” Tech snaps. This mission has been dragging on for far too long, required too much effort, to fail now. It's only their fourth mission. It being unsuccessful would reflect very badly on them as a team.

“I didn't do anything! The kriffing switch won't stay flipped!” Wrecker responds far too loud.

“Then hold it down.” Tech says. The door won't keep the droids out forever. He won't be able to fend them off and extract the data.

Tech hears blaster fire over the comm, then Wrecker groaning in annoyance. “Fine. But if I get shot, I'm blaming you.” Tech doesn't acknowledge Wreckers comment.

The power comes on, permanently this time, and Tech gets to work. It's not a hard job. No wonder they were fighting so hard to destroy the terminal, the thing has so little going for it in terms of security, Tech's confident any member of Clone Force 99 could have took his place.

“How you getting on Tech?” Hunters says through the comm channel, sounding strained.

“Almost done, just a few more seconds.” As he speaks, the transfer of the data, locations of new droid factories, is complete. “I'm finished. However, the information stored on this terminal has abysmal protection. I could potentially extract more intel.”

Hunter stays quiet for a moment before answering. “Get what ever you can Tech.”

Tech's a few seconds in when he gets interrupted again, this time by Wrecker. “What's taking you so long?” he complains.

“I will be done soon. Be patient.” Tech hopes Wrecker gets the message that he doesn't want to be disturbed again. He doesn't.

“I don't like this...” Wrecker complains further.

“I'm well aware.” Tech says. “As said, I won't take much longer. Just hold the switch and let me work.”

Just as the last word leaves Techs mouth, a deafening noise transmits from Wreckers comlink and something shakes the entire separatist base. Techs ears are left ringing as he desperately tries to regain a feel for his surroundings. How did he end up on the floor? Fighting against the pain in his head, he pulls himself up with the help of the terminal.

The terminal is dead again, and going off of the noises it's making, this time for good.

“Wrecker?” Tech tries to contact his brother. Nothing but static answers him.

Panic threatens to grip Tech as he opens the door and runs out in the direction he sent Wrecker, shooting the droids that had been trying to break in to the room on his way out.

“What happened?” Hunter asks over the comm. “There was a huge surge of electricity.”

“They overloaded the systems to destroy the data. Wrecker's not answering his comm.” Tech says, not halting the sprint in his brother's direction. Tech should have known they'd try something like this. It's his job to know things, to warn his brothers of them. His inability may have just gotten Wrecker killed.

Crosshair swearing is the only response Tech gets.

Tech rounds the last corner leading to the generator and spots the consequences of the overload. Smoke and rubble and twisted pieces of metal, and between it all, the just recognizable glint of white of his brothers helmet.

There are droids swarming this corridor as well, but they've took a hit from the explosion too. In the confusion and low visibility, Tech dispatches of them close to his record speed.

Wrecker isn't buried under any of the debris, and the rise and fall of his chest let Tech know he's alive. He's far from unscathed Tech notes as he crouches next to his brother. Most of the damage is contained to Wreckers left side, armor missing or cracked. Even his helmet is cracked, Tech observes. When he tilts his brothers head to the right gently to get a better look, he's faced with a grim sight.

The left side of Wreckers helmet isn't just cracked, it's almost entirely gone. A bloody mess of electrical burns and torn skin lay where the armor should be, as far down as his arm and chest, all the way up and across his face. Worryingly close to his eye. It's hard to see the extent of the damage under all the blood flowing over his face, clinging to his short hair.

Tech doesn't have time to linger, instead wrapping his arms around his brothers chest and starting to drag him. Wrecker's always so much heavier than Tech remembers. Tech needs to contact Hunter and Crosshair, needs to at least try and stop some of Wreckers bleeding, but not here.

Tech drags Wrecker into another room to the side, one with a functioning door, unlike the room the generator used to be in. Ideally, Tech would just continue getting both of them out of the facility. He can't risk Wrecker dying from blood loss on the way.

Tech updates his conscious brothers as he flicks his torch on. He can see somewhat in the dark through his visor, but he needs more light to asses the situation properly. There isn't much he can do for Wrecker, so the little amount of bacta spray and hastily applied bandages will have to do. As Tech had feared, Wreckers eye doesn't look good.

It's an undeniable fact that Wreckers future is uncertain. The role Tech played in causing this uncertainty isn't lost on him. If the Kaminoans decide to decommission Wrecker, that he isn't worth the effort it would take to fix him, his blood is on Techs hands.

Whilst Wrecker stays unconscious throughout, his body does react when Tech does something that seems to worsens his pain. His disorientated noises of distress worry Tech. The high voltage of the generator overloading may have caused Wrecker permanent brain damage on top of the now certain ocular trauma he's sustained.

An eye can be replaced, damage to the brain is not as easily fixed.

Not that it isn't already. It's soaked into his gloves, splattered onto his breastplate. When Tech resumes dragging Wrecker, his brothers head lolls to the side, coming to rest against Tech's helmet, no doubt staining that red too.

Wrecker's helmet was beyond saving, it's purpose negated by the jagged edges left where it cracked, threatening to dig themselves into Wreckers skin. Tech leaves it on the floor where he placed it.

Hunter and Crosshair know of the situation now, said they'd try and get to Tech and their downed vod if they could. The state Wreckers in, Tech wouldn't risk waiting around for them even if he was certain they'd get to him.

It's a tedious job. Dragging Wreckers full weight is exhausting, strain put on Techs legs and back already painfully clear. The droids don't make it any easier. There are far less of them marching down the halls now then there were when he and Wrecker first made their entrance. Still enough to make Tech have to stop and clear them out ever so often.

Every time he's forced to do so, to let go of his brother, Tech is plagued by a wave of fear. If Tech is even a moment too slow, if just one shot is fired low, the consequences for Wrecker could be fatal.

At some point, a droid hits Tech in the back of his shoulder, but he doesn't have time to think of the pain spreading down his arm. Not when his kih'vod is bleeding out in enemy territory.

When Tech hears Hunter's voice, not over the comm, but behind him, Tech almost collapses in relief.

The rest of the way back to the Marauder is a blur. The pain in Tech's shoulder gets worse, even though he doesn't have to carry Wrecker alone any more. Wrecker's condition seems to only worsen.

By the time they've gotten him on the ship, he's semi conscious. Not that that's a good thing. All he does is writhe as unintelligible strings of words laced with pain fall from his lips. They can't even get him onto the sleeping rack he's squirming so much.

So Crosshair and Tech sit on the floor, desperately trying to keep their brother calm as they treat what they can of his injuries as Hunter flies the ship. Kamino's closest, so that's where they go.

“Can the medical stations even handle 99's?” Crosshair hisses as where to go is brought up. Tech doesn't know. None of them have been injured badly enough in the field to find out.

Kamino may be close, but there are still hours of hyperspace travel between them and the planet. Hours in which they have to keep Wrecker alive with what they have on hand. The painkillers get him to calm down somewhat, but in the end, Tech has to hold Wrecker the whole time Crosshair stills the bleeding.

Wrecker's injuries look even worse in this light. According to the med scanner, it at least seems Wrecker's helmet protected him from any brain damage worse than a nasty concussion. Tech still fears for Wrecker's future.

At some point, even through the no doubt heavy fog of pain and confusion, Wrecker recognises Tech, and begins mumbling his name ever so often. Tech feels like he's going to be sick when tears start freely flowing from Wrecker's undamaged eye.

“Tech...” he practically sobs. Tech has to stop Wrecker from pressing his face into Tech's chest plate, not wanting his vod to hurt himself further. It's worryingly easy to counter Wrecker's strength as Tech holds him away just long enough to get the piece of armor off.

As soon as Tech lets him, Wrecker buries his face in Tech's chest, clinging on to him weakly, movement uncoordinated. Tech's arm and shoulder burn, but he couldn't care less. Hints of pain still make their way into Tech's voice as he tries to speak calmly with Wrecker.

“You'll be fine Wrecker.” Tech says, hoping it won't turn out to be a lie.

Crosshair drapes one of their blankets over Wrecker's legs, than another over the bit of Wrecker's torso not covered by the first. Tech's thankful for Crosshair's astute thinking, Wrecker's skin feeling unnaturally cold to the touch, shivers occasionally shaking the large clone's body. Crosshair swears under his breath about the regulation blankets being ill fitted for Wrecker's size.

Crosshair sits down next to them, taking Wrecker's uninjured hand in his. The hyperspace travel to Kamino is tense. Wrecker bleeds through his bandages at an alarming rate. The large clone's pained whimpers and groans are the only thing breaking the silence in the ship for most of the time.

When they land on Kamino, Tech is quickly forced to let go of his brother. He wants to stay with Wrecker, make sure he's alright. Tipoca City's medical staff can't be trusted to handle Wrecker's unease around medical equipment, Tech's quite certain they are the very reason his little brother despises it so.

If Wrecker panics like he did on the Marauder, they will sedate and tie him down. They never explain anything they do, don't answer question clearly, sometimes even lie.

Tech watches Wrecker be loaded on a stretcher and disappear around a corner. Tech's chest feels constricted, tight knot of dread building in his stomach as he is escorted to medical treatment as well.

If it is deemed that Wrecker is not worth saving, Tech will never see his brother again. If they decide to decommission Wrecker, his vode will not be informed of the decision. It'll likely be done immediately, the information only reaching the rest of the squad when Wrecker's body is long cold.

Tech's barely paying attention as he is told to strip his upper body and the blaster wound is tended to. The pain is the only thing keeping him from completely losing his grip on reality.

Tech has to believe that the Kaminoans won't waste a valuable asset over something like blindness and deafness on one side, has to believe they won't find anything else wrong with him that Tech had missed, has to believe that Wrecker won't be killed because Tech made a mistake.

Tech isn't given a proper answer when he asks about Wrecker's condition. He is just left alone with his thoughts, usually sharp mind clouded somewhat by the pain medication he was given. He's not alone for long, Hunter and Crosshair soon finding him.

They don't know anything more about Wrecker than Tech does.

“We hoped you'd know where he is.” Hunter says. Crosshair places Lula on the bed Tech's on.

“Thought Wrecker might need her...” Crosshair's voice trails off as he speaks. The small tooka doll flops forward, large ears coming to rest against Tech's thigh. He picks it up and holds it in his lap. Lula's fabric is soft from years of use. Tech's chest hurts.

Hunter puts his hand on Tech's shoulder. “Wrecker will be fine. Don't overthink it, kih'vod.” Tech hums in acknowledgment, not sure he believes Hunter's words, but certain he will be overthinking it. He was made to overthink things, to process things fast and consider all options.

Tech spends the majority of the next three hours considering the option that his failure to pay attention may lead to Wrecker being decommissioned. He only stops because Nala Se enters the room. She doesn't acknowledge the three clones greeting her, instead standing at the foot of Tech's bed, eyes trained on a datapad in her hands.

Tech had heard of sentiments akin to jealousy from some regs when it comes to the direct attention Clone Force 99 gets from Kamino's Chief Medical Scientist. He never understood why. Going off the data Tech collected over the years, the negatives the attention brought with it outweighed any positive. For the most part, it just mean more tests, both medical and of their skills.

“Ma'am, may I ask about CT-9903's condition?” Tech speaks up as Nala Se looks like she's about to leave. She turns to him slowly, observing him silently for a moment.

“CT-9903 is currently in a bacta tank.” Nala Se says, then turns away and swiftly exits the medical bay. Tech almost breathes a sigh of relief.

The three brothers quickly agree to look for Wrecker once the lights are dimmed for the night cycle. Hunter and Crosshair are shooed out of the medical bay before that can happen, but a time and place to meet had already been arranged by then.

The stillness of night has fallen over the white halls of Tipoca City when Tech slips out of the room. The arm attached to his injured shoulder rests in a sling, but Tech still needs to steady it with his free hand as he walks, every move sending spikes of pain from the wound down his back.

Meeting with his brothers and getting to the room housing the bacta tanks is easy. It's not like they're actively trying to conceal the location of the room, so Tech has no dificulty gaining that knowledge.

The rows of bacta tanks is a haunting sight. There's a surprising amount of injured troopers in the tanks, some clearly cadets, but quite a few old enough to already be active in the field. They move quietly between the glass cylinders, knowing they'll get in trouble if they're caught sneaking about.

Tech's heart drops when he spots Wrecker. His injuries look awful under the pale blue light. They can see the full extent of them now, torn skin of full display as it lazily leaks blood into the surrounding bacta. Tech can just make out that Wrecker's hair has been shaved off entirely.

Sleeping on the floor will make Tech feel terrible come morning, but there's no way any of them are leaving Wrecker alone. Tech's vode know that arguing with him about sleeping somewhere more comfortable is futile, so they don't even try.

As predicted, they do get in trouble when a member of the medical staff finds them in the morning, though the woman is kinder about it than Tech expected. She tells them off for a good while, but seems to focus more on the fact that it was unwise of Tech to sleep so rough in the state he is in.

She escorts Tech back to the medical bay, whilst his brothers are sent to go about their day normally.

Far too soon, just about a day later, Wrecker is removed from the bacta tank. Tech's alone when he's stationed in the bed next to his. Wrecker's still out cold, bandages covering large portions of his left side. When a medical droid changes them Tech catches a glimpse of still raw looking skin underneath.

When Wrecker wakes, Tech is also alone. It's the middle of the night cycle, and Tech's moved one of the chairs his brothers had sat in during the time they visited him to be closer to Wrecker. He'd also tucked Lula under his little brother's good arm.

Wrecker sits up too fast, face scrunching in discomfort. His good hand flies up to prod at the bandages covering the left side of his face. Tech leaps up to pull Wrecker's arm away before he can mess with the dressing.

“Don't do that Wrecker.” Tech says, keeping his voice soft.

In response, Wrecker flops back down onto the bed, clutches Lula and curls up on his uninjured side. His uncovered eye is unfocused as it watches Tech. It's evident they gave Wrecker rather strong pain medication.

“Everything hurts an' I can't see or hear cause of this stupid thing.” Wrecker complains, gesturing at the covered half of his face.

“The bandages aren't why you can't see or hear, kih'vod.“ Tech says. “You sustained permanent damage to your eye and ear during the explosion.”

“Oh.” A look of confusion crosses Wrecker's face as his pain addled and drugged mind works to comprehend the information presented. Guilt grips Tech stronger than ever. “Okay.”

“For what it's worth, which I am afraid is very little, I am sorry.” Tech is uncertain what to do, so he places his hand over Wrecker's carefully.

“Wha' are you sorry for?” Wrecker says, voice genuine as ever. “Dragged my sorry shebs outta there, didn't you?” So he had been conscious enough to grasp some of what was happening.

“I'm still sorry.” Tech shakes his head.

Wrecker gasps suddenly, sitting up too fast again. Tech's just about to ask what's wrong, already considering a variety of answers, when Wrecker speaks.

“You're hurt! You gotta lay down Tech.” Wrecker's single visible eye is blown wide, and his brow furrowed, an expression that surely can't be comfortable with that injured of a face. The large clone then seems to consider something, before moving aside on the bed somewhat. “You could lay here, if you like.”

Tech's about to protest, argue he doesn't need the rest, that he doesn't want to take away from Wrecker's space, but the thought of laying down is tempting. Tech's shoulder still feels awful, and he's sore all over. It's also cold in the med bay, and Wrecker's warm. With a nod, he climbs onto the bed.

Wrecker sighs shakily as Tech comes to rest at his side. The medical bay beds feel a lot more comfortable this way, Tech finds.

Tech can't say when he fell asleep, but he is woken by the whirring of a medical droid and Wrecker moving. Tech stands up immediately.

Wrecker's moved up the bed, shaking his head vigorously, knees halfway drawn to his chest.

“Hold still, or you will be sedated.” The medical droid chides, steadily moving towards Wrecker, hypo in hand. Wrecker whimpers. By the looks of it, next move that droid makes, it's going to be met with Wrecker's fist. Tech extends his arm between the two.

“May I administer that?” Tech asks. The droid just stares at him. “He will hold still if I'm the one to do so.” The droid stares a little longer, but eventually places the hypo in Tech's hand. Tech checks the label as me moves closer to Wrecker, making sure it is indeed something against the pain like he'd assumed.

Wrecker only looks marginally less distressed, still shaking his head. “No, Tech, please.”

“It's alright Wrecker, it's just painkillers. Look.” Tech holds up the hypo, displaying the label, rubbing his thumb across it to prove it hasn't been used to cover a different inscription on the container. “It will help.”

Wrecker looks apprehensive, but he exposes his neck none the less. With a verbal warning, Tech brings the hypo to his brother's neck. Wrecker hisses, pulling a face, but doesn't complain further.

As the droid starts changing Wrecker's bandages, Tech interrupts the task by holding his arm out again. The droid makes an annoyed noise.

“Allowing me to handle this as well will significantly reduce the stress and frustration experienced by all parties involved.”

The medical droid pauses, observing Tech. “No. Don't interrupt my work again.”

Tech huffs, doesn't say anything further. He stands close to Wrecker though, ready to stop the droid if it does anything either of them don't like. Wrecker seems to understand what Tech is doing, still tense, but relaxing somewhat.

Wrecker's good eye flicks back and forth between watching the droid and looking at Tech. With that nervous expression on his face, it's easy to see how young Wrecker is. None of them should have sustained such a devastating injury this early into their active duty. Tech sighs.

“Can you tell me what my eye looks like?” Wrecker asks when the medical droid starts working on his face.

“The eye is beyond saving Wrecker. It will most likely be removed entirely.” Tech says.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that.” Wrecker sighs. “It just feel bad, and I wanna hear your option on it.” The droid somehow manages to look offended at Wreckers words.

“Alright.” Tech moves to get a better view of Wrecker's face, making the droid make another annoyed noise at Tech crowding its space. Tech cringes at the sight of Wrecker's injuries. A large portion of his face will be scarred permanently, his hair will likely no longer grow neatly on the left side. When Wrecker opens his eye, Tech inhales sharply.

“That bad?” Wrecker laughs.

“It's already been removed.” Tech states, once again appalled by the medical staffs complete lack of transparency in regards to the procedures they conduct.

“What?” Wrecker tries to touch his face, but Tech and the medical droid stop him.

“CT-9903, refrain from contaminating the wound.” The droid says, tone almost threatening. Wrecker doesn't say another word in the droids presence.

Tech sits down on the bed again once the droid has left, leaning his head lightly against his brother's shoulder. “I'm greatly displeased by the medical staff neglecting to inform you of the surgery performed on your eye.”

Wrecker sighs. “S'not that big a deal. It was gonna come out either way. It'll be replaced by a cybernetic, right?” Wrecker bumps his head against Tech's lightly, grinning. “That'll be cool.”

Tech can't help a smile, though he doubts it'll be as cool as Wrecker imagines it to be. The Kaminoans cut corners where ever they can if it saves them credits. Tech vows to make sure Wrecker's new eye functions well, even if he has to adapt it himself.

“Did they shave my head?” Wrecker's running his hand over his head.

“Yes.” Tech answers, knowing well his brother already figured that out himself.

“Do I look good bald?”

“You do not look any worse than you did before.” That gets Wrecker to laugh loudly.

“Good thing Hunter didn't get caught in that explosion. He'd have killed them!”

Tech shakes his head, laughing quietly. “Yes, he most certainly would have.”

[margindoodles2407]

Soooo @seeking-elsewhither I am continuing to work on my Clones and Music post for HFSW (don't know WHY it's taking so long but it is for some reason) BUT. I did manage to finish my stuff about the Baddest of Batches and thought, Hey. I should talk about this before I run out of steam. So enjoy

Clones and Music, Bonus Content: The Bad Batch

Wrecker, who is a Bass, would be so disappointed if I didn't let him play percussion, so really I had no choice. He has amassed a small collection of almost every different kind of percussion instrument known to the Archipelago; he's got a tradition of managing to get his hands on at least one from every island they visit. The pride and joy of his collection, though, is a xylophone built from the bones of Battle Droids he's bested (this concerns Hunter, perplexes Tech, amuses Crosshair, and utterly fascinates Omega).

Echo, when he was young, played the flute on board the RSS Resolute. But a skeleton hand can't fit quite right on the keys of a traditional pipe. So, in Clone Force 99, he picks up the pan flute. It's not as elegant as his former instrument; it's quite simple, really. Privately, though, Echo's glad for the simplicity. It's been far too long since he had any of it in his life.

Tech, a tenor, built a whole kriffing piano into the lower deck of the Marauder. It's quite literally mounted into the wall, and its creation and upkeep is one of his pet projects. He's also teaching Omega to play. (After his death, the mere sight of it is something his brothers' broken hearts can't bear, and they cover it with a bolt of black cloth like a shroud. The sound of piano music isn't heard again until about a year after Hunter, Wrecker, Cross and Omega finally settle down on Pabu. While the Batch was away to Tantiss, the citizens of the island- led by Phee- managed to salvage parts of the wreck of the Marauder, and used those pieces to construct a new piano, to give to them as a gift in gratitude for everything they'd done. Omega's out of practice, but she almost immediately takes her lessons back up again and within months, she can be heard playing almost every night.)

Hunter's a Baritone and plays the mandolin. Due to his advanced hearing, he's able to pick up even the slightest sour notes in his playing, so whenever he plays it's like, a level of sound unknown to man. Combine this with Cross's perfectionistic skill, as is often the case in the lower decks of the Marauder, and you get perhaps the most hauntingly beautiful music you've ever heard. He's also the most prolific composer of the Batch, and can often be found on deck late at night picking out melodies with only the moon and stars and a single stump of a candle for light. It helps him relax. (He… doesn't play much, after Crosshair splinters. Sure, he half-heartedly strums out a few simple tunes to try to keep his family's spirits up, but without his brother's accompaniment, something just isn't right. It's only after Omega starts playing the piano again that he really takes it up again with the same passion as before.)

Crosshair. Ohohoho. Crosshair is a tenor, like Tech. Unlike Tech, Crosshair plays the fiddle. And he's karking good at it. Crosshair Bad Batch is a man who does nothing halfway and his music is absolutely no exception; he's learned and mastered almost every style of fiddling in the Archipelago, and with his steady hands and nimble fingers, he's perfectly suited to playing rapid-fire, overly-complicated pieces. That is… until the Empire. As it disbands the Clone Choir and Orchestra, and as he left his fiddle on the Marauder, he spends months out of practice (he used to practice every night)-- and, by the time he finally comes to his senses and escapes Tantiss with Omega, his hand shakes so badly that every note he tries to play turns sour. It's too much for his proud, perfectionistic heart to take. It comes to pass that one day, in the wee hours of the morning on Pabu, Omega can't sleep and realizes that he's nowhere to be found. She goes to find him and is horrified to discover he's snuck out to the shore to burn the kriffing thing in a fit of rage, frustration, and self-loathing. Distraught, Omega tries to fish it from the flames, but when he begs her to stop for fear she'll burn herself, she simply sits with him in silence till the fire dies away. (Unfortunately, his ability to play the fiddle is something Crosshair never recovers. When he loses his hand on Tantiss, his fate is sealed, and even with a prosthetic his fingers are too clumsy for him to ever take it back up again. But he starts to write music. Music for Omega to play on her piano. Hunter helps him with his composition- and even though they can't play their strings together anymore, the hours upon hours of sitting picking out harmonies in their small home's front room helps to heal their broken relationship in ways they never thought it could.)

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request Wrecker x reader where they sneak off really late at night for a cute little walk because they haven't been getting enough alone time. And it's a new relationship, so everything's still all cute and giggly. Maybe they think they are being quiet when they are sneaking back in, but something funny happens and reader is like dieing laughing and Hunter walks in like wtf is going on. Idk, feel free to ignore. Ily ♡

Warnings and Information: No real age warning for this one. 2nd person POV, undescribed Reader that can be read as gender neutral. Little sprinkling of Mando'a. Minor language (everyone say "thank you, Crosshair!"). It’s all the giddiness of a new(ish) relationship with the powerhouse of Clone Force 99 that is Wrecker. 🩷 Impromptu date late at night. Decided on a Modern!AU for this one where (most of) the Bad Batch work as a construction crew, and there's a few cameos of other Clones too. Hope you enjoy what I came up with! 

Word-count: 4,544

Setting your bag down on the welcome mat, you thread your house key into the lock with an eager sigh. You're pretty tired. You finally have a free night, thankfully, and you've been away from home all day. 

You're looking forward to just vegging out on the couch to catch the season finale of your favorite show for the next hour and crawling into bed as soon as you finish trawling the 'net for other people's impressions of the finale. There's a lot of speculation regarding the dashing rogue of the series, and whether or not they'll finally pluck up the courage to share this big secret the show writers have been dangling over the fans. You just hope some news article doesn't show up in your social media feed only to come along and spoil it in the headline. 

"People really need to learn to tag their kriffing spoilers… It's not that hard." 

You bump the door open and hoist the bag back over your shoulder just as someone calls out your name. 

"H-hey! Wait up!" 

You pause in the entryway, cheeks pinching with a large smile. "Hey Wrecker." The way he's doubled over, hands pressed into his knees while he pants for air, you can guess Wrecker had likely jogged over to your place from his. He lives not too far from you, and it's a jog he's made several times before, but it has been a slightly warmer than average day that has only just begun to cool off in the last few hours. Tech, one of Wrecker's brothers, calls the phenomenon the "heat island" something or other. Effect? (If that wasn't right that sounded close enough.) "You okay? Here, come on in. Would you like some water?" 

"B-but- Weren't you jus' leaving?" Wrecker manages between slowing pants. He used the edge of his sleeve to mop the sweat from his brow once he's upright, fixing you with a woozy smile when you hook your fingers around his own and lead him inside. "Oh, no, I just got home, actually. How come?" You fill a glass from the cold tap and rummage around the freezer for some ice to make it a little more refreshing. Wrecker just ran so hot sometimes you were surprised he didn't pass out on some of his job sites as a construction worker. 

"I- oh, thanks, cyare." Wrecker greedily gulps down a few mouthfuls of water to relieve himself of his thirst, careful not to spill down his front or all over your kitchen floor. 

The intimacy of the pet name makes your ears flush with warmth, and your cheeks pinch a little more with a tender smile. "You're welcome." 

The worst of his thirst now quelled, Wrecker could explain why he thought he had caught you leaving the house. "I, uh, I came over to ask if you wanted to go do something. Together. Jus' the two of us. Worried that I got off work too late or took too long to clean up a bit and I caught you about to leave. I know it's nearly eleven, but it's been a while since we had a moment to spend time together… just to ourselves." There was good reason for the emphasis on the last three words. In the infancy of your relationship with Wrecker, you have only had one date together that wasn't interrupted in some way by his job, or one of your day to day priorities, or one of his brothers. 

You liked his brothers well enough thus far, but sometimes they really needed to learn when to butt out. Or what was appropriate for company. 

"Wrecker, have you seen my live specimen?"

"Hunter! One of Tech's kriffing specimens got loose again! Can't find the damn thing!" 

"Oh Maker…"

"L-let's leave, cyare. It's not a dangerous specimen or nothing, but it's jus' creepy." 

You smiled at Wrecker, and to him, those smiles could have thawed out an ice planet like Hoth twelve times over. Smiles that could get Crosshair, even in his most sour of moods, to return the gesture even for a fleeting moment. "Time just to ourselves sounds very, very nice… What'd you have in mind? I'm down for anything." The minute you pulled him across the welcome mat you decided you wouldn't mind watching the final episode of the season another time. Wrecker was here, and by happy coincidence, your schedules were completely free for the weekend. You could stay up as late as you liked.

"You wanna go for a bite? Or maybe go take a walk?" Wrecker offers. You like the idea of a casual walk, now that it's cooler. You glance at your footwear, a pair of sandals, and think for a moment it'll be smart to put on a pair of closed-toed shoes. "A walk sounds nice," you reply brightly, "You wanna go… uh, how about by the lake in the park?" 

Wrecker grins at the idea. He's got such an infectious smile that gives you butterflies in the pit of your stomach and a booming, boisterous laugh that you just loved. "Sure, tha' sounds nice! Been meaning to go see it one'a these days, but I'm busy helpin' my brothers with work most of the week." He'd love to go check it out with you, he says. 

Going to the lake took you past Wrecker's house, all dark save for two windows. Tech's, of course, and you believe the second is another brother of Wrecker's who's moved in only recently. 

You haven't had the opportunity to meet him yet. You hope to, one day, when he's ready. 

"He's… been through a lot. One'a our other brothers thought it might be a good idea if he came and lived with us for a bit. Quieter. Less people." 

"How many brothers do you have, Wrecker?" 

He had laughed, scratching nervously around the back of his head with a great shrug. "I dunno, honestly. I have a lot of brothers. But, I get along best with Hunter, Tech and Cross… So I hope I get along with Echo too." 

"I'm sure you will, Wrecker. You're friendly and kind and sweet… a-and um…" Your mouth had gotten away from you, then. You had only been friends back then, and you'd slowly grown closer, grown feelings for this gentle giant. You were that close to blurting out that you thought he was handsome, cute even, down to the scar and replacement eye that was a result of an accident on one of his very first job sites. He had said your name with that same jovial laugh and winning smile and, jokingly, asked, "What? You gonna say I'm cute or somethin'?" 

That's all it took. Just a few months later, here the two of you were, playfully bumping into one another as you entered the park hand-in-hand, making jokes and laughing together. 

"No-no-no, that's not what the joke means!" you insisted, feeling the ache in your sides growing the more you laughed until you were nearly breathless. "You realize Cross is messing with you, right?" 

"Yeah, 'course I do!" he replies, "But so am I! It's jus' how the two'a us are. It's a lot of fun to purposely misunderstand a joke and see how long it takes before Tech can't take it anymore. Our record was two hours. Hunter even joined in!" 

"But I thought he hated it when you and Cross goofed off on your job sites." 

Wrecker grins through mischievous laughter. "Naaah. Hunter goofs off on job sites just as much as us when we can get away with it, but he's more… subtle about it. Unless he wants to show off to our older brother Cody. He's a contractor and the one who suggested the job to us; so we try an' behave a little more than usual when he comes to check on how construction is going." Wrecker explains. They've been part of the crew who initially came in to renovate some very old apartment buildings here in this little, growing city, but overnight the sign that had previously said "RENOVATIONS UNDERWAY" for the first few weeks became "DEMO AND REBUILD". Now you know why; Cody's the one who made the call on that, and you wonder why the sudden change. 

"Oh, huge infestation that went untreated for too long. I don't remember what Tech calls them or what they are, but Cody said it was gonna be better to scrap everything and build fresh. I ain't complaining!" 

That was something you appreciated Wrecker for. He complained about very little. He was often optimistic and in high spirits. Happy to do almost anything he was asked so long as he was with his brothers and didn't have a want of food. All that manual labor makes a person hungry, so it doesn't surprise you to find him snacking on something if he's left to his own devices and the thought comes over him. 

Actually, in fact, you hadn't just walked past his house on the way to the park: you briefly came inside so he could throw a few things into the cooler bag he takes to his job sites (he, Hunter and Cross bounced between at least two or three sites if Cody needed a few more hands for something on a particular day) and have a little picnic on the grass with you. You both took care to be quiet so as not to disturb his brothers. Wrecker did however bump into Crosshair in the kitchen, who took one look in the lunch bag and said "Unless you plan on drinking that kriffing disgusting lake water, I suggest you take something to drink, too." before he snatched a few slices of cold pizza from a box in the fridge and shuffled off. 

Not much of a talker, Crosshair. But that's okay. 

"How's this for a spot?" you ask, coming across a bench after walking roughly one half of the man-made lake. Walking and talking with Wrecker was enjoyable, the late-summer air carried by a gentle breeze across the water was cool and soothing here. Not too far from the water's edge, and you could hear some of the lake life, little frogs, croaking and singing in the reeds and lily pads from here. Wrecker nods approvingly, setting down the cooler bag. "Perfect! Here, made this for you. Sorry if it's a little smushed or if I forgot a condiment." 

He offers you a brown paper bag, and inside, you find your favorite sandwich you often throw together when you need a quick bite to eat. "Aww, you made this for me? Wrecker that's so sweet of you, thank you." You bite into it with eager anticipation, and it's definitely the way you like it. "Oh Maker," you moan blissfully, chewing slowly to savor it, "that's a good sandwich." Wrecker smiles bashfully as he takes a seat beside you on the bench, unwrapping his own sandwich. 

"Did I-?"

"No, not a single missing condiment." you tell him. Shyness and uncertainty turn to pride for the man beside you. 

"Oh, good! I made it kinda quick-like from memory so we could get goin' without bothering my brothers." He takes a bite of his own sandwich, and allows himself to chew thoroughly before he speaks again. "I, uh, I make everyone's lunch in the mornings. Except for Tech's sometimes, he's pretty particular about what he takes to his lab." 

You think back to what Tech's job is, but the proper name for it escapes you. "He works in the… preservation department at the local museum, right?" 

Wrecker bobs his head as he takes another bite of his sandwich, smaller this time. "Yeah. Works in at least three labs. Real smart. Like scary smart. He'd get bored if he worked in just one lab. And because I don't remember what lab he goes to on what days, he and I agreed it'd be best for him to make his own lunches most days. Oh, I almost forgot! Here!" He reaches into the cooler bag again and pulls out one of your favorite, non-alcoholic, bottled beverages. "That's for you. Can't have a proper picnic without something to drink." 

Wrecker's attention to detail, his memory of things he's learned about you only very recently, it all makes you feel giddy and warm inside that he's so incredibly attentive to your likes and dislikes. Other romantic partners, whether they had been potential or well and truly established, had not been quite so aware like Wrecker. What had taken others five months or more to remember that you did not like on your pizza, Wrecker had remembered in just five days. 

Hunter had called your name from the kitchen, ready to place an order from a little place new to town called Gregor's Grub-hub and asked what toppings you liked on your pizza, apologizing for not remembering what you had taken from the assortment of pizzas the crew offered to share with you when you stopped by Wrecker's job site to return the comically oversized jacket he loaned you. 

"That's okay, I remember!" Wrecker had declared from the couch as the two of you sat together, trying (and failing) to take this board game seriously. It was just so much more fun to bend the rules or try stacking all the game pieces. Whatever silly idea possessing the pair of you was swiftly entertained. 

It was just so easy to have fun with Wrecker. He found joy in the little things. And he cared so deeply about his brothers. He cared so deeply about you. 

You crack open the bottle, and together the two of you mock-toast to this late-night, lakeside summer picnic the pair of you took on a whim. You're so glad to be out here with him. Just the two of you in the light of the full, silver moon hung in the sky above this beautiful park, serenaded by the frogs and distant cicadas in the trees.

"Thanks Wrecker. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Wrecker laughs brightly, the sound as bubbly as the lapping waves of water against the shore, and as distinct as the ping from the phone in your pocket as your phone begins to blow up with news about the final episode of the season you originally planned to watch tonight. (Damn. Maybe the dashing rogue will pluck up the courage next season.) You can't even be mad about the spoilers. 

You're enjoying this rare evening together with Wrecker far, far too much to be annoyed about that. 

"Nice night for a date…" you murmur fondly, leaning into Wrecker's side as you sit on the bench and eat some of the other snack foods out of the cooler bag now that the two of you have finished your sandwiches. "... thanks for the late, lakeside picnic, Wrecker." You giggle softly when he shyly asks if you're okay with a little kiss on the cheek. He kisses the top of your head for good measure as well, emboldened by the smiles and giggles. "Yer welcome. We should do this more often." he says, looking out over the glimmering water with you. 

You should do this more often. Maybe the next time you come here, you can take him here in the sunlight and come feed the waterfowl on a day that his brothers could get by without his help. Crosshair didn't need help the clambering up onto the scaffolding so he could do his job as a roofer, but he often let Wrecker help him because it eased his brother's fear of heights, or the fear that Cross was going to fall from the scaffolding again after a really nerve-wracking incident, more rather. 

A strong gust of wind had ripped through the construction site before the structure had been secured against the frameworks, and his brother had lost his balance. Wrecker had been there to catch him in the nick of time. 

"Maybe it gets under my skin a little that my brothers make fun of me for my fear of heights," Wrecker admitted somberly to you in private shortly after the scare. "But I'd never willingly let my brothers fall. I'll always be there to catch them… if I can." 

Once the two of you have finished most of the food from the cooler bag, you diligently pack away all of your trash until you pass by another trash can. "Let's finish walking around the rest of the lake. Then let's maybe call it a night." you suggest. It's too nice a night not to. You just hope the city police don't come along and spoil the moment by suggesting that you need to leave, since park lock-up happens at 12:30. It's only midnight, and the rest of the lake won't take long to walk at a decent pace. 

Common opinion is that some of the force can be overly stern, even how the chief of police is characterized as "heartless", but you've come to understand that these officers with red police cruisers (an unusual color choice) are decent men. They're just chronically overworked. You feel for them, now. They're only doing their jobs, however unpopular it might be. 

Thankfully, where you'll complete your full circuit of the lake with Wrecker is not too far from one of these entrance and exit gates that are found along the wall of the gated park. 

Joking and laughing with Wrecker once again puts a pep in your step, now that the two of you are comfortably full and content with the late-night meal. 

Wrecker suggests walking a little closer to the water, just before you leave. Give the lake a closer look, maybe see if he can't get a picture of one of the frogs for Tech. "He could probably tell us all about 'em! Tech loves that kinda stuff… sharing what he learns with people." Wrecker says with a grin as he quickly snaps a photo of a plump frog resting on a lilypad. He's carefully crouched on the edge of the bank in order to get it. You creep down closer to the waterline so you can take his phone for him so he can use both hands to pull himself back up the slightly steep bank. The water is deep here, and you're both hoping to avoid falling in.

"Here, I got it." you offer, holding out your hand. 

You slip on a slick patch of grass and mud as you collect his phone, and as luck would have it, the sandal slips off as you stumble and it falls into the lake with a splash.

Wrecker had caught you before you fell in as well. "Gotcha, cyare! Are you okay?" 

"I'm f-fine," you assure him with a tiny stammer, glad you hadn't dropped his phone or fallen in. "Just lost my shoe. Thanks for catching me." 

"Of course, cyare. Didn't think I'd only be there to catch just my brothers, didja?" He's teasing, of course, but the question makes you flush. No, of course you didn't think that. 

Wrecker peers down into the water, trying to see if he could spot your sandal. Man, why didn't you change into something with laces? You'd thought about it and everything, but you were just so excited about spending time with Wrecker that you dashed out the door without giving it a second thought… 

A car door closes in the distance. It sounds like it's from a car parked near the gate. Uh oh. What time is it? 

"Wrecker, we need to go, I think the-" 

He's up to his elbow in the lake water, carefully swishing his arm around while seeing if he can't find your shoe. "Just a second, I'll find your shoe and then we can go cyare." Wrecker promises, trying to settle your nerves. He's so focused on being sweet and helpful that he doesn't hear or notice the officer starting down the path. 

"Wrecker, c'mon, it's okay. It's just a cheap little sandal, we really should go!" 

The way Wrecker is hunched over the water on his hands and knees in the dim light of the moon, the officer mistakes the position for a starting dive and he calls out in warning. "Hey-! There's no swimming in the lake!" 

Wrecker falls in with a great splash, startled. He surfaces shortly, the water up to his chest. Okay, maybe the water wasn't as deep as you thought. "I'm okay!" Wrecker splutters, coughing up lake water. "I found your sandal!" 

You turn to the officer now standing on the edge of the lake, glowering down disappointedly at Wrecker. "I'm so sorry, sir," you say, "he was just trying to get my shoe and then I think you startled him an- O-oh, Officer Fox! I didn't realize it was you, I'm so sorry!" Fox didn't realize it was you, either, turns out. He speaks your name with great surprise, then takes another look at the sopping wet figure carefully climbing out of the water with your wet, muddy shoe in hand. "Wrecker?"

"Yup!" 

Officer Fox removes his peaked cap and scratches his salt-and-pepper hair with a weary sigh. "... I thought the two of you were a couple of kids or something. Got a call from a "concerned citizen" about some "hooligan youth" in the park. Some busybody of an old man who's constantly inventing problems for me because he has his mind made up that I don't have enough to do…" 

You grimace sympathetically. "Mr. Sheev, again?"

"That old bat's still alive?" Wrecker asks disbelievingly. No one's quite sure how old Mr. Sheev is, but he looks like he's been dodging the grim reaper longer than it should be natural. 

There's a mutter from Officer Fox that sounds a lot like the word unfortunately before the cap is replaced and he has to do his job. 

"C'mon… park's locking up for the night, soon. And since you're wet," he nods to Wrecker, "and you're half barefoot," Officer Fox nods to you this time, "I'll give you a lift in the cruiser." 

Officer Fox takes you both back to Wrecker's place, watching the two of you from the car as you're huddled on the porch, wrestling with the ring of house keys. Darn things seem to make themselves invisible or slippery when they get the slightest inkling that you might be in a hurry to get inside. 

Wrecker says he'll have to mop up the water in a second, trying and failing at threading his house key into the lock with shaky fingers. Lake water was cold and he was soaked to the bone trying to do a kind thing by retrieving your sandal for you. 

Fox, the chief of police for the city, calls from the cruiser that Wrecker better get into some dry clothes soon, and not to feel bad about getting the seats wet. "Shit like this happens more than you think. I gotta ask Cody if he's the guy I gotta talk to about getting a proper walking path around the lake… as soon as I'm done with all this other kriffing paperwork. Goodnight." You help Wrecker get the key into the door and thank him for the lift. "You too, Officer Fox! Thank you again!" 

As the two of you try to squeeze inside, someone knocks over the coatrack bearing three high-vis vests and a crisp lab coat. "Whoops!" Oh stars, that clatter was sure to wake someone up… It was nearly one in the morning now. 

Wrecker's foot slips in the growing puddle of water, and trying to help him, or make sure that he's okay, you yourself trip over the coat rack and fall on top of him with a yelp. Once again, he breaks your fall, and tries to break the nervous tension with a corny joke after you both frantically apologize to one another. 

"Guess we're a couple'a angels if we keep fallin' for one another, huh, cyar'ika?" 

You can't help it. The joke is so silly and undeniably sweet coming from someone like Wrecker that if the coat rack, and then the two of you falling over and on top of one another didn't wake Wrecker's brothers, your laugh certainly would have. Four pairs of feet plod down the stairs at varying speeds, Hunter the fastest. He's fresh out of bed in nothing but a pair of red and black boxers, face wracked with confusion. Wrecker is soaking wet and smells like algae. And you're now damp after having landed on top of him. Hunter was told the two of you were just going for a walk, how the hell did his brother and his date end up getting wet?

"The kriff are you two doing on the floor?" Crosshair yawns from up the stairs. 

"And why are you wet?" 

You smile apologetically up at Hunter, "Wrecker fell in the lake trying to get my shoe for me. I was trying to keep his phone dry after he took a picture of a frog for Tech and-" Your eyes dart further up the stairs when you hear Tech excitedly ask "A frog?" from behind Cross, and you spot the brother who must be Echo behind him. He's a little paler and his face is gaunt compared to the others. He looks rather disoriented and anxious after you probably woke him up so unexpectedly. 

"Oh… hello there; are you Echo?" 

He nods timidly. "I am. And you are…?" He seems surprised to hear you know his name, but he doesn't seem to recognize you. You wait as he carefully makes his way down the stairs, one step at a time. The horrible accident Echo had suffered from was some time ago, but three of his limbs haven't quite been the same since. Minor weakness and numbness, to your memory. You waited until he was closer to put out the appropriate hand to introduce yourself with a polite smile. "Nice to meet you. Officially." Echo manages apologetically. "Sorry, guess I didn't recognize you because I've only ever heard Wrecker talk about the person he's started dating." 

You smile reassuringly at Echo, and flash Wrecker a cheeky look when you hear he's been talking about you to his brothers. You're sure he would look just as flushed as you if the light from the kitchen wasn't so dim. 

"I'll get a mop and clean up the water," Wrecker promises Hunter when his brother takes a look at the floor by the front door after Wrecker picks up his cooler bag and dumps all the trash into the kitchen's garbage can. 

Hunter shrugs lazily. "Nah, don't bother. You two should go shower or something. I'll take care of it. Besides falling in the lake - apparently - was your walk nice?" 

"Oh yeah!" Wrecker says with a giant grin that you return when you share a look. "I think the two of us might do it again soon. This time without losing any shoes." 

You can only nod and laugh softly in agreement. The next time you go on one of these late-night walks with Wrecker, if this becomes a regular thing in your relationship, you are definitely going to start wearing better shoes with laces.

Note from Frost: The idea of Palpatine being a nosy cranky senior citizen who calls the police over "hooligan youths" having fun came out of nowhere but it tickled me too much not to include it lmao. (Poor Commander Fox...)

[Masterlist] [TBB Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[treesnutsandleaveswrites]

Five Reminders of Fives

An Echo Drabble

One.

When Hunter first called him his vod, Echo’s world stopped for a moment. They were fixing up his hammock in the Batch’s barracks, finally relieving Echo from sleeping on the floor the past few rotations. They were pulling it up into the air when Hunter spoke.

“Is that alright, vod?”

Echo snapped his gaze to where Hunter was standing, briefly seeing his goateed brother in his red GAR training outfit, before being pulled away by Hunter’s voice.

“Echo?”

Hunter looked at him expectantly, still waiting for an answer. Echo looked back at the hammock before nodding.

“Yeah… yeah, that's good…” He licked his lips, finding the familiarity of the word again…

“Vod…”

~~~~~~~~

Two.

Wrecker was sitting at the workbench in their barracks with Hunter, arm wrestling. Even if Wrecker was the strongest of the group, Hunter was showing some great resilience against him. Echo was watching them with nothing else better to do, not fully focussed on who would win. Wrecker strained out, still trying to throw Hunter off somehow.

“Who do you think will win, Eck?”

Fives and Hevy were standing on either side of the monitor that had the screen looking over the Rishi moon, grunting and panting as they fought for dominance in this arm wrestle. Fives panted out with a smirk.

“It’s gonna be me, right, vod?”

Wrecker grinned, still pushing until he was finally able to slam Hunter’s hand against the durasteel with a victorious whoop following after.

~~~~~~~~

Three.

Echo and Tech were fixing the Marauder, adding some new enhancements that Tech thought up the night before. Echo was sitting on the armrest of the pilot’s seat while Tech was under the console, looking at the wiring. Tech was murmuring under his breath.

“Kriffing hell…”

Echo was leaning against the wing of a fighter in the hangar of the Resolute as he watched Fives laying under it, cursing quietly. He chuckled with a shake of his head while looking down at his brother.

“Need a little help?”

Tech hummed, rolling out from under the panel to look at Echo.

“That would be very useful.”

~~~~~~~~

Four.

Crosshair wasn’t a conversationalist. Echo knew that from the get go. Sometimes, when Echo couldn’t sleep from all the buzzing in his brain, he would find Crosshair awake and they would simply sit in silence. One particular night, Echo was tossing and turning in his hammock. It was no use going to sleep, so he got out of his hammock and found Crosshair sitting on one of their cargo boxes while pieces of his rifle blaster were set out on the floor in front of him. Echo sat at the workbench near him, looking over the pieces carefully before looking to the sniper as he cleaned a certain piece meticulously.

“You gotta get in there.”

Fives explained, rubbing the dirty cloth over the blaster piece. He was particular about how his blasters were cleaned and now he was showing Echo how it was done. Echo nodded while watching his vod.

“I get it.”

Echo didn’t realize Crosshair had spoken until he found his eyes reflecting his own. Crosshair looked at him for a moment before going back to cleaning another piece, letting Echo watch so he’d be able to find some peace in the night.

~~~~~~~~

Five.

After leaving Kamino, Echo’s mind was jumbled with uncertainty. He had never known anything other than the Republic, so he never really thought of life away from it. Away from the GAR… away from war… He wasn’t reminded of that kind of life until Omega with her wide, wondering eyes. She had so many questions and so much to discover, just like when he and Fives went out into the galaxy as ARC troopers for the first time. Omega looked over the farm on Cut’s land with a glimmer in her eyes before looking up at Echo with a smile.

“Do you want this one day?”

Fives looked at him with a small smile. They were standing at the border of a small village they had just given aid to, watching as the people tried to get back to their peaceful, domesticated lives. Their other brothers helping in small, meaningful ways. Echo looked back at Fives for a moment, truly thinking of the end of the war. Thinking of his brothers living freely. Thinking of Fives. He could see it in his eyes that Fives wanted it. And he deserved it.

Echo managed to nod softly.

“Yeah… one day.”

[aces-to-apples]

could you perhaps be enticed into writing more codakin? with:

❛ you’re such a tease. ❜

❛ you know where to find me. ❜

you’ve written them so fabulously before 💖

This ask is. From January 2022. I wish you all a very I live in shame :margehiding: but hey, here's a visual reference lol? Note: Cody is deeply horny and thirsting hardcore under the cut

Cody hadn’t been present on Geonosis for the start of the war, but he was assigned to lead the 212th Attack Battalion under General Kenobi barely a month later.

Alpha-17 had given him a full briefing before shipping out, and an entire section of it had been dedicated to the behavior and neuroses of both the general and the general’s commander: a Padawan-Commander by the name of Skywalker. One-Seven had hardly been complimentary but the briefing had been helpful in dealing with them both, even after Skywalker was promoted to general himself and took ARC Trooper Rex with him to the 501st Legion.

(The captains’ tiles look good on Rex, when he’s forced into his dress whites, but that’s hardly the point.)

It’s been nearly two years since that briefing and Cody has more than enough experience to put together his own hours-long briefing just on Skywalker himself.

There are so many things about him—how his mind works, how his brain works—that Cody doesn’t think anyone else in the galaxy knows. Not Kenobi, not Commander Tano, not anyone else who’s ever shared his bed, even. And even so, Cody would never have guessed it before they started breaking formation together, but—

“You’re such a tease,” he hisses, low and resentful, as Anakin struts past.

The Jedi shoots a sunny smile back at him before reaching the front of the room and proceeding to contort himself into several showy, highly flexible poses, ostensibly to warm up. His shirt stretches with him and these poses in a variety of new and vaguely life-changing ways.

Shirt, of course, being a generous term for what the little padawan-commander’s devious mind has conjured up.

If Cody wasn’t sure she’d have let on long before now, and in a much louder fashion, he’d assume this was a deliberate attack on her part. Psychological warfare, even. If Rex knows, of course, then it just might be, but ‘get Cody so horned up, in front of a crowd of unaffiliated brothers, that he nearly bites a data-pad in half’ is not a Rex-typical form of retaliation.

The pants are—fine.

Brown fabric in a twill weave, they have a loose fit for a wide range of movement and only stay up thanks to the valiant efforts of a thick letheris belt. Of course it also has an eye-catching bar of silver for a buckle. Cody thanks every god large and small for that belt, buckle be damned. Without its stubborn presence keeping some semblance of modesty, Cody might actually shame the whole of the 212th with his lack of subtlety.

The training room is large and padded thickly, made for and used to the acrobatic nonsense of Jedi cadets. At the front—leading a mixed cohort of brothers from various assignments just barely maintaining a sense of propriety through said showy stretches—Anakin isn’t even wearing boot-liners.

And then that damned shirt.

Cody has seen glittering, sinuous dancers wearing more of a shirt than that kriffing thing.

He wants to rip it off—possibly with his teeth—and replace it with something with more coverage. Possibly himself.

At the back of the room, he watches Anakin slide his legs out to a 90-degree angle, bend, and place his hand flat on the mats. Someone finally breaks and wolf-whistles, to which Anakin simply flashes a smirk at the whole room and pushes himself up onto just his hands. Cody would be noting down the whistler for disciplinary action if he wasn’t desperately adjusting himself in his codpiece.

The shirt.

The shirt is practically nothing—or nearly so.

A black scrap of fabric dug out of a garbage bin, if Cody has to guess. It stretches obscenely around Anakin’s bulk, cut off at the diaphragm and leaving his soft belly exposed. No sleeves or real neckline to speak of, horizontal cut-outs bare inches above what’s already generous to call a hem.

The diamond cut-out in the center of his chest is the last straw.

High on his left pectoral, just under the clavicle, is a little spot of brown pigment. Cody knows that little spot intimately and with great fondness. Lying flat, the shirt covers it; showing off for an adoring crowd, the fabric twists and bunches, flashing that little spot to keen eyes.

Each time seeing it makes Cody want to stalk up to the Jedi and block everyone else's line of sight. And then bite it. Or something.

Cody has never been the jealous sort. He's from Kamino, how can he be? He's never owned a thing in his life, much less had an exclusive claim on a lover. That his jaw aches from grinding his teeth is—abnormal, to say the least.

Obnoxious, even.

And General Anakin kriffing Skywalker has the gall to enjoy it. The air around him practically crackles with his delight, even as the stupid kriffing outfit is supposed to embarrass him, or whatever Tano’s intention.

Cody has been through actual physical and mental torture modules constructed by sadists and abusers and yet, the 90 minutes that Anakin spends leading the assembly through a series of stretches and moving meditations are the longest of his life. In fairness, he wasn’t fully armored, in the middle of a crowded room, painfully aroused for the torture modules.

By the end of the time slot, Anakin’s hair is darkened and his skin glistening slightly with sweat.

He flashes an exasperated grimace at his padawan—the first indication of discomfort since he strutted into the room to start—but dismisses the troopers but his usual warm half-grin and takes their farewell-ribbing with grace. Cody watches his shoulders slump just slightly when the final trooper turns away, before he rallies.

The strut returns and Cody, unthinking, grabs his wrist as passes on the way to the exit.

Anakin meets his eyes through his helmet visor and words fail him. What is he supposed to say? ‘That was unbearably hot, never do it again’? ‘Fuck me before you go or else I might explode’? ‘May I pretty please, with a moonberry on top, suck you off’?

He hesitates too long.

Anakin Skywalker can be achingly sweet and often is, but he can also be unbearably smug and self-assured. His eyes and smile darken, becoming something wicked and teasing, and he hooks gentle fingers around Cody’s utility belt and tugs him just barely closer. Trails those fingers up the center of his cuirass. Taps them just over his sternum, where he knows a small sunflower is inked brightly, just between his pectorals.

If his helmet was off they’d be sharing breath, foreheads nearly pressed together, as close to a kiss as they can get on a battlefield.

“You know where to find me,” he murmurs, low and deep, irises nearly swallowed by pupil as he keeps Cody’s gaze.

Then fingers tap sharply against his armor and Anakin rocks back on his heels, ruffling his curls and smiling sunnily. He whistles something jaunty as he swaggers away—a normal song at one point, probably, but most likely a filthy rendition thought up by bored troopers on campaign—and Cody can’t move or speak for several moments.

If he moves, he’ll do something very much not acceptable in public, either by himself or after hunting Anakin down through the halls; if he speaks, it’ll be to moan or whine or beg, damn the consequences of whoever hears. So he stays still and quiet as a stealth mission. Until sense returns.

Or his brain boots back up.

Once it does, though, ooh…

He is going to get his revenge for that, one way or another.