#of course clones would find way to get their hands on real credits there are always ways

[electrikworm]

I doubt I'm the first to have the thought, but I think it makes a lot of sense for the clones to paid in a clone specific currency by the GAR.

The GAR's already paying a fortune for the clones, so I doubt they'd be ready to even pay them a low amount of credits.

But clones clearly have some way to buy things, otherwise a clone bar like 79's makes little sense. I'm pretty sure we see a clone offer to pay for drinks at some point too.

A clone currency would allow clones some degree of freedom, though they can obviously only spend their credits in designated locations. I'm sure the fact that what clones do in their free time can be tracked through these credits is an attractive bonus for the GAR.

I imagine the credits bare id numbers and there are records of which trooper was given which credits. That way, if a clone tries to spend credits that aren't theirs, it'll be picked up on and the clone can be quickly dealt with. Trying to spend the credits in places they're not supposed to will get them in trouble too.

The concept makes sense to me, since it would give the clones the illusion of freedom, whilst just being another way to keep tabs on what they do.

And hey, if anyone tries to argue that the clones are slaves, you can hit them with the counter argument that slaves don't get paid.

[sameheart-sameblood]

Live While We’re Alive

(gif by @rex-is-best)

pairing: commander wolffe x f!reader

summary: you thought being a newly recruited civilian doctor to the GAR was hard enough until you developed a hopeless crush on Commander Wolffe

words: 2.8 k

warnings: mature, some suggestive talk, mutual pining, medical exams, co-workers to lovers, a doctor having inappropriate thoughts about their patient 

a/n: I started writing this awhile ago and then lost all creative motivation but I've been in a Wolffe mood the past few days and sad we didn't get to see him in The Bad Batch so here we are. I'd like to apologize to my doctor dad and all medical professionals everywhere lol. Also, I had intended for this to end in smut but then got lost in feelings so there mayyyy be a chapter 2. We'll see ;)

read on ao3!

You want to fuck him. It’s been decided. This realization couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. You’re surrounded by Jedi and Clone Officers in a very important meeting detailing your next mission. But you only have eyes for one of the men and he’s currently standing at the head of the room giving a briefing to the holo of Master Yoda. It’s a testament to Commander Wolffe’s presence that you barely notice the little green Jedi Master he’s conversing with. Well, his presence and his extreme handsomeness.

When you’d first met him, you’d been truly intimidated. The other women you worked with nodded in understanding, whispering they had been thrown off by his cybernetic eye and prominent scar. But that wasn’t it. You’d noticed those things, but that wasn’t what made you uneasy.

It was the fact that he took one look at you and seemed to see right into your soul. You couldn’t explain it but you felt like with just a glance, he could tell your deepest insecurities. And stars, did you have a lot of those.

You had worked your way up through the medical field and had started your residency at the biggest hospital in Coruscant. After your training ended, you had secured a permanent job there. It had been difficult, to say the least. Though you knew you were qualified, even more so than most of your male co-workers, you still doubted yourself often.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had come to visit you one nondescript Thursday afternoon, telling you of the need for doctors in the GAR. He said you came most highly recommended when he was searching for recruits but still, you thought a mistake had been made and that someone soon would realize and send you back to your normal life. It was a recurring nightmare you’d developed in the past few weeks that shook you from your sleep.

You had agreed to join the GAR, sympathetic to the cause and wanting to do your part. The next few weeks had consisted of you getting your bearings and meeting the rest of the staff at the base . Kix, the clone medic in charge, had helped you learn the ropes and had introduced you to all his brothers. At first, you had been overwhelmed by the sea of identical faces. As the weeks had gone on, you’d learned everyone’s names and they’d made you feel welcome, like one of their own.

The Commander and you had crossed paths several times. He was polite but distant. Not like you blamed him. He had more important things to do than exchange drawn out pleasantries. With each run-in, though, he seemed to be making more of an effort to be personable. Unfortunately, each conversation left you looking more and more like an idiot. Or a di’kut. The boys had been teaching you some Mando’a.

You were a medical professional, a well-respected doctor and yet Wolffe made you feel unsure of yourself. It had been so long since you’d had a crush that you didn’t realize this was what the beginning of one felt like.

*******

As you sit around the war room table, you feel even more like a school girl. Instead of paying attention to whatever Master Yoda is saying, you’re transfixed by Wolffe’s face. The hazy blue light from the holo reflects off his features, making him look ethereal. His scar looks even more prominent and you blush, remembering how often you’ve wondered what it would feel like to let your fingers trace it.   And his lips. They’re moving, responding to whatever the Jedi has said. They’re mesmerizing and now you’re thinking of what it would be like to kiss him. Or even better yet, to have those lips pressed against the plushier parts of your body.

You continue to stare until you realize his face has turned to you. It probably only takes you a second to come back to reality but it feels like an eternity. Somehow you’re able to respond to the question.

“Yes, Commander. All medical personnel are prepared for an 0800 liftoff. Kix will take his team with the 501st and I’ll have my staff along with the 104th. We’ll reconnoiter once we’ve landed on Hisseen.” The rest of the table nods, moving the conversation along. Wolffe stares at you for a moment, a hint of a smirk on his lips. You avert your gaze, finding the table a much safer object of your attention.

The discussion wraps up and Wolffe stands at attention, puffing his chest out, before Master Yoda disappears. Once again, your eyes are drawn to him. You’re not sure how but he makes something so mundane look indescribably attractive. Wolffe’s head turns in your direction but you’ve already bolted from your seat, hoping to cool down in the hallway.

Kix pushes through the crowd to get to you. “Hey, Doc. How’d the meeting go?” You shrug. “Nothing new to report. Just making sure we’re all set for our campaign.” He’s shifting back and forth, a sort of glazed look in his eyes. You realize he’s not paying particularly close attention. It’s the look of someone asking you something just so they can request a favor in return.

“Hmm oh yeah, that’s nice. Say, Doc, do you think you could cover for me for a few hours? I have some urgent business to attend to.”

“Since when is playing Sabacc with Fives and the boys urgent?”

“Since I remembered how terrible they are at it. I can make a real killing playing against them.”

You laugh. It’s true. You’ve come to love those men but a lot of them are really horrible at the game. You’ll need to give them a remedial course if you have any downtime on Hisseen. “Of course. What do you need me to do?” He rewards you with a huge grin. “Nothing hard! A few higher ups coming in for their physicals. Just the usual. Make sure they’re in tip top shape to get shot at by some tinnies.”

He gives you the list. It’s only a handful of men but the last one on it makes your blood go cold. “Commander Wolffe needs a physical?” Kix is oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Oh yeah, but he knows the drill. Honestly everyone can do it themselves at this point. We’re basically there to oversee it as a formality.”

You swallow down your apprehension and nod. “Sounds easy enough. Go have fun. And take it easy on them, will ya? Let them keep a little of their dignity intact” Kix just grins and shoots you a wave as he runs off.

*******

Your first few appointments go just fine. The officers are professionals and Kix was right, they could do these routine physicals with their eyes closed. You give them all your seal of approval and settle in to do your paperwork before your last, most anticipated patient arrives. The forms in front of you hold no interest and you find yourself checking the chrono every few seconds.

It’s not easy but you manage to finish your work. You set it aside and take steadying breath. Five more minutes and he’ll be here. You scold yourself. The Commander has never been anything but professional. You’re the one thinking these very unprofessional thoughts.

And you’re a doctor, for kriff’s sake. Your patients should be able to come to you without worrying you may be fantasizing about what they look like naked. But these are uncharted waters. It’s your first time having to deal with a patient you’re this attracted to. They really should take your medical license away.

Just as you’re thinking of packing it all up and handing in your resignation to the Jedi Council, a knock at the door snaps you to attention. Well, here goes nothing. You scold yourself once again for checking your reflection in the mirror before answering the door.

You had tried to adopt a passive, professional look to your face before greeting Wolffe but it must not have worked. “Everything alright, Doc? I’m not early, am I?” You shake your head.“Not at all. Punctual as always, Commander.” You beckon for him to come in and take a seat. You close the door, then sit across from him at your desk.

Your datapad hums to life and you busy yourself opening the appropriate forms you need to fill out. The weight of his eyes is heavy on you and your cheeks heat up in spite of yourself. You push on through as best you can.

“Well, Commander, how are you feeling today?” There’s that ghost of a smirk again but it vanishes so quickly you're not sure if you imagined it. “I feel like a million credits.” You giggle despite it not even being that funny. You’ve got it bad. “Glad to hear it. This should be quick then.” You gather your equipment and get to work.

First, you take his weight. Then, you listen to his heart. You press the stethoscope to his sternum, thankful you can do this over his blacks. He observes you the whole time. “And what about you? How are you today, Doc?” You risk a glance and meet his eyes. That was a mistake.

“Me? Oh-um just fine. Maybe not like a million credits but a few hundred at least.” You trail off dumbly but he humors you with a chuckle. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard that sound from him before. It’s like music to your ears. “Anything I can do to help? You do look a little flushed. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” You avert your eyes again.

“No. I’m alright. It’s just, uh, hot in these uniforms. The coarseweave doesn’t breathe.”

“You sure? Maybe I should be the one giving you a check-up.”

You realize he’s toying with you now.

“That won’t be necessary, Commander.”

You move on to check his lungs. “Breathe in for me.” You move the stethoscope to his chest, then move it around a few different spots on his back. “You can call me, Wolffe. If you’d like.” He breathes in every time, not even needing prompting, ever the dutiful soldier, even when he’s teasing you.

“I would like that. Thank you, Wolffe.”

Next, you measure his blood pressure. You’re shocked that it’s so low. He sees the look of surprise on your face. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all. The opposite, in fact. Your pressures are great. I just thought with your lifestyle they might, understandably, be a bit higher.”

“What kind of lifestyle do you think I have?”

You’re backtracking as quickly as you can. “I just meant, your life as a soldier, it must be extremely stressful.”

There’s that smirk again. “It is. But you don’t get to be a Commander by not being able to handle the pressure.”

“Of course. But even so, if you’d like some stress relief techniques I can suggest some.” He hums as if really thinking it over. Thankfully there’s only one part of your exam left. Which is good because you’re not sure how much resolve you have remaining.

“Everything looks great. I’ll just do a head and neck exam and then I can send you on your way.”

You need to touch him for this part but you stop yourself, hands hovering but not quite meeting their destination. You feel like once you touch him, really feel his skin under your fingers, there may be no going back.

Wolffe sees your hesitation, then slowly reaches out to take your hands. You watch with wide eyes as he guides them to his neck. He looks up at you innocently enough but you can tell he’s laughing internally. You try to reign in control of the situation.

“Sorry, I just got distracted.” The Commander studies you but this time it’s in earnest. “Are you nervous? This’ll be your first time in an active war zone, right?” You had been anxious but not about that. But now that he mentions it, yeah, you honestly don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Yes, I’m not sure what to expect. I guess you could say I’m a little scared.” Wolffe gently holds your chin, directing you to look back at him. “I won’t lie. It’ll be overwhelming and frightening. Battles can seem never-ending. But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You’re staring into each other’s eyes and you don’t want to stop. But then he’s clearing his throat and gently removing his hand from your skin. You realize you’ve been resting your own hands on his shoulders this whole time. “Thank you, Wolffe. I do feel much better knowing you’ll be there.” You offer him a smile, hoping it conveys just how much you appreciate him looking out for you.

You begin your exam, gently kneading where his neck meets his shoulders, checking for any anomalies. Then you move to his throat. The throat you’ve so often been distracted by. It’s featured prominently in your daydreams. You move your hands along it, under his jawline. Having a man this powerful baring one of the most vulnerable parts of his body to you is intoxicating. Focus, di’kut.

Everything feels normal except for some knots you find resting right below the surface of his smooth skin. “Lymph nodes feel good. You’re a little tense, though. But I bet it’s from that bucket you have to wear most of the day.” He hums in thought. “True. But even so. Maybe you could give me some of those ideas for stress management?” He looks up at you with big eyes. There’s mischief in them but something else. Vulnerability?

You gulp audibly. “Of course. There are a few that work particularly well, um, like deep breathing techniques, going on walks, talking with friends, meditation, journaling, physical activity…” You’re rambling, fighting a losing game against your resolve. Wolffe thinks on it. “Physical activity seems like a good place to start.” His hands come up to gently cover yours that are still resting on his neck.

The sensation of his calloused fingers on your skin sends shivers down your body. You close your eyes, feeling the last of your self-control topple over. “Wolffe,” you whine “We shouldn’t…” He immediately drops his hands, worry etched on his face. “I’m so sorry. It’s just- I thought you wanted-.” He cuts himself off, snapping up to his feet and to attention. “Doctor, you should report me to General Plo Koon for immediate disciplinary action.”

Dank Farrik, you’ve just ruined everything.“Wolffe! No, I’m not reporting you to anyone. If anything you should report me for being so unprofessional.” His shoulders relax a bit but he still eyes you as if you’re a live grenade that might explode at any second. “What do you mean?” You sigh in frustration. This isn’t how you wanted to confess your feelings to him.

“I…want you, Wolffe. The second I realized that I should have asked to be re-assigned to a different battalion. Instead I thought I could push those feelings down and continue to do my job. Looks like that was a mistake.” You hang your head, avoiding his piercing gaze. He’s silent for just a moment but it feels like an eternity.

“So, you want me and I want you?” You nod your head, ashamed, as he continues. “Then what’s the problem, Doc?” Your eyes snap to his, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Isn’t it wrong of us?”

Wolffe sits down on the exam table again, genuinely thinking on it. “I don’t see why. We’re both consenting adults. We don’t work directly with each other- I report to General Koon, you report to General Kenobi- so there’s no real conflict of interest. The worst we’ll face is a little ribbing from the boys if they find out.”

You raise your head to look him in the eyes, needing to make sure he’s serious and that this isn’t some twisted joke. What you find staring back at you is hope and promise. He senses your trepidation and gently takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry if I came on strong. But the thing about this life is that there are no guarantees. Tomorrow isn’t promised and so I figured I’d rather go for something, someone, that I want and have my heart broken rather than regretting my inaction.”

Your eyes roam the scars on his face, evidence of just how true his words are. You’re heading into active battle tomorrow. One or both of you could be injured, or worse. You step towards him. He spreads his legs so you have room to get closer. You rest your forehead on his, breathing him in.

His hands come up to caress your sides. You take a shaky breath. He questions you softly. “Cyar’ika?” Ah, now that’s one of the new words you definitely remember. His vulnerability makes you ache and the decision to hand your heart over is an easy one. “You’re right, Wolffe. Might as well do some living while we can.”

*******

[legobiwan]

Maul, Obi-wan, and Raydonia

I was doing research for an entirely different post and I just...couldn’t leave this scene alone. There’s just too much going on here for me *not* to dip my oar.

So Maul goes to Raydonia and terrorizes the populace in order to send a “message” to Obi-wan at the end of TCW Season 4:

First of all, the panel where Maul says, “face me,” is interesting as Maul is directed away from Obi-wan as Obi-wan looks at Maul’s back, perhaps in facing Maul’s back, he is looking at the past, or, more specifically perhaps not being able to look at his past he cannot face Maul’s holoimage dead-on.

Secondly, this is such an obvious setup. (I know, I know. “Spring the trap.”) But Maul’s hilarious line in Twin Suns really shows us how much he not only knows Obi-wan, but the Jedi at this point (and in Rebels, he contrives this plan because it has worked twice already, on Raydonia and later, Mandalore):

Although this is not the point of this post, you have to laugh. Maul and Obi-wan, to some degree, have been dancing the same tango for over 20 years and the only time there had been a misstep, so to speak, was when Obi-wan left Ahsoka in charge of the second attempt at a Mandalore occupation instead of going himself. But otherwise, geez, no wonder Maul ended up in Obi-wan’s arms at the end of it all, just like a “dip” maneuver at the end of a dance as mentioned above. (They *know* each other’s moves, flit between lead and follow, and if you take this metaphor to its conclusion, then you realize Maul went to Tatooine, sought Obi-wan not because he wanted Luke, but because he wanted closure, knowing what closure would mean in that circumstance.)

But I’m getting off-topic. Maul goads Obi-wan by threatening to burn Raydonia to the ground and Obi-wan, of course, being of “noble heart,” immediately proclaims that he has to go. Alone, of course.

Mace, being the only voice of wisdom in this room, offers a sound strategy:

Obi-wan immediately rejects this perfectly viable option.

This justification is bullshit. Obi-wan is known for being a master tactician and yet he’s refusing Mace’s offer of backup? First of all, between the two of them alone, I’m certain they could have come up with a decent plan. Secondly, Obi-wan had to know that Maul wasn’t going to keep his word. Raydonia was going to burn, regardless of whether Obi-wan came alone or not. 

And, in fact, here is Exhibit A of Raydonia burning:

Even if he isn’t fully aware of this, I posit that Obi-wan rejects Mace’s offer not because he wants to save Raydonia on the premise of a very false promise (if he were truly concerned about Raydonia, he would have taken the task force), but because, as the title of this episode suggests - he wants revenge. 

And I doubt Obi-wan even admits this to himself, using his “noble-heart” to justify going to Raydonia alone to face a massive threat to both the Republic and Jedi in the middle of a war headed by the Sith.

By every logical, tactical measurement, Obi-wan should have taken backup. And he outright refuses it because of a personal vendetta. I have more to say about this in another post, but his actions here seem to be part of this cycle of “fall” and “absolution” that Obi-wan goes through in TCW, each “fall” going lower, each act of contrition more extreme. (And it plays into a theory I have that if the war had continued, if events had been just a little different - Obi-wan would have fallen and Dooku would have eventually gotten his most prized pupil.) It also says a lot that in the mirrored situation during the “Siege of Mandalore” arc, Ahsoka is only able to capture Maul because she brought the backup. Or, more precisely put, because Obi-wan authorized the (illegal) backup of he 501st. 

Mace, however, isn’t swayed by Obi-wan’s pretty terrible argument. (And for pretty damn good reason.)

But here is where it gets truly bizarre.

What the hell, Yoda? I was trying to figure out the thought process that would lead to Yoda authorizing this. Clearly, it’s not stemming from any military advantage or even thought towards the people of Raydonia. They’re already burnt to the ground, both in Maul’s mind and the Council’s mind (despite Obi-wan’s thin rationalizations). 

So then why? If I start with the really wild speculation, I suppose I could say that Yoda had someone form of...Force premonition that Obi-wan going alone to Raydonia would lead to an intervention by Ventress (who Yoda did sense was kicking and ambivalent about her role in the war) which would lead to Ahsoka’s trial and eventual acquittal which would lead to Maul being captured on Mandalore which would lead to the Duel on Malachor which would lead to Luke finding Grogu - 

Yeah, you know what? 

NO way that’s true. Not even Palpatine could see that far into the future so I can BS on that idea.

So why send Kenobi alone?

I think this harkens to what we see later during the “Wrong Jedi” arc.

 If Ahsoka’s trial was her great test, then Maul’s reappearance was Obi-wan’s. Both Mace and Yoda have to know that Obi-wan was teetering on the Dark Side when he beat Maul all those years ago (in fact, the TPM novelization basically states Obi-wan harnesses some Dark Side to beat Maul in his rage.) Mace wants to bring backup, for very practical reasons but also probably keep tabs on an Obi-wan who was at severe risk of becoming unbalanced. 

Yoda, on the other hand, sends Obi-wan alone to face his past, to face his darkness and overcome it (in the middle of a war with the Sith where the balance of power could have shifted significantly if Maul and Dooku and Sidious were able to coexist in the same room without the threat of first-degree murder). 

And here’s the thing. Both Obi-wan and Ahsoka FAIL this test. Ahsoka walks away from the Jedi, Obi-wan gets the snot pounded out of him, taps into his rage (this is not a man in control of himself),

...and then lets a war criminal go free in exchange for her help, all of which set up the disaster that Mandalore becomes in later seasons. In fact, Obi-wan doesn’t pass this supposed test until over 20 years later, on Tatooine. And...is it worth everything that occurred between this episode and “Twin Suns”? Could Yoda have foreseen all of this? Highly unlikely. It’s nice poetry,  but at what cost?

Which leads to another interesting observation - if Yoda feels this is Obi-wan’s test, then both he and Mace feel Obi-wan is more than capable of flirting with the Dark Side. (Yes, all Jedi are, of course, but this seems rather pointed for a man who is considered the pinnacle of Jedi-ness). Again, I have another long post gestating about this topic, but I doubt Mace and Yoda didn’t notice some signs of Obi-wan’s slow fall and attempts at absolution (it’s almost like the habits of an addict - fall, swear off the sauce, and than fall again, even lower) throughout TCW, but between the pressures of the war and trust in Obi-wan, they didn’t see it as a huge threat.

So after Obi-wan leaves for his Revenge Tour, Mace explains, rather diplomatically, that he thinks Yoda’s idea is hot garbage and that his (Maul’s) -

Yes, and Obi-wan at least does learn from this, as stated above...eventually.

Oh, Yoda. This is where I feel the Coucil lost their way. Again, Dooku’s famous quote about Yoda and the Council from the Clone Wars novelization:

"The Jedi Order's problem is Yoda. No being can wield that kind of power for centuries without becoming complacent at best or corrupt at worst. He has no idea that it's overtaken him; he no longer sees all the little cumulative evils that the Republic tolerates and fosters, from slavery to endless wars, and he never asks, 'Why are we not acting to stop this?' Live alongside corruption for too long, and you no longer notice the stench."

It could be argued that Yoda is placing this “test” of Obi-wan above the people of Raydonia, hell, the entire Republic, in priority. Raydonia is collateral damage, and if Obi-wan fails his test, so are many planets in the Republic (which is *exactly* what played out). I suppose, in the very end - again, 20 years later on Tatooine - this was resolved and Luke Skywalker was saved to eventually help redeem his father and destroy Palpatine but...that only really makes sense in hindsight and overlooks the bad decisions the Council and specifically Yoda, are making in real-time. 

And Mace is not convinced here. Too many things could go wrong. Maul could escape. Obi-wan could be killed. Obi-wan could possibly turn, or at least “darken,” so to speak. 

“Trust in the Force,” Mace might say, “but all others pay in credits.”

[intergalactic-padawan]

Season 2 Ezra with a S/O who is super forgetful? (I’m an Ezra simp so get ready for many asks)

Relics - Ezra Bridger x reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: preprare for some strong feels if you catch the reference! It came to me in a dream and now you all have to deal with it. You're welcome.

A/N: It's no problem at all, please, fill my asks with as many ideas you want! Sorry this took so long as well, i wanted it to turn out really good but my teachers had other ideas. Hope you like it?

Pronouns of reader: she/her

*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*

-"And you did all of that just for one meiloorun?" - You look back at Ezra, guiding him through the packed streets of the open market in a strange planet Hera had landed to refuel, and he gave you a smile. Your question was very serious, though: there was no way that was really the origin story of the 'Commander meiloorun' inside joke he and Zeb shared.

-"Funny enough, that's exactly what that trooper asked" - you snort at his reply and stop at the front of a busy stand of off-world fruits, grocery list in hand and bag of credits at your side.

-"welp, hopefully this time we can find some that are actually avaliable for buying"

Their selection was truly impressive. Not just the stand, but the market as a whole: jewelry, souvenirs, toys, books and foods all found themselves mixed and admired by people who had to yell louder than their neighbour to sell something today.

Ezra continued with his story, examining the apples as you'd instructed him, but you only paid half-attention this time: something had caught your eye, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were that no one had found it sooner.

A genuine DC-17 hand blaster was sitting beautifully two stalls to the right of you. For the looks of it, it was genuine, at least. The sign also advertised it as such, so it was truly a wonder no one with the minimum of firearms knowledge had grabbed it before.

Ezra said something that vaguely sounded like a question beside you, and you nodded, absent-minded. He then handed his shopping bag to you - probably to be able to bend over the table and get a few kiwis from the back - but you didn't turn to him.

-"I'm going over there, take a look at something real quick" - you announced, but didn't wait for an answer before navigating the sea of people to meet the woman selling the blaster.

Firearms weren't reallly the only thing she was selling, you noticed. There were holo-shields, vibro-blades, shoulder paudrons, darts and- was that a kama?

-"It's a nice arsenal you've got here" - you strap Ezra's bag to your shoulder and carefully take the folded fabric to analyze its flexible leather. It was lacking a utility belt to secure it, but seemed to be in very good conditions for something that old; you notice how the style didn't match with any of the ones you'd seen mandalorians wear, much less one of the native fighters from Rotas V. Which means it must have been worn by a clone trooper of the old republic back in the Clone War.

-"It's a keen eye you've got" - the lady retorts, setting down her datapad -"but that's not a skirt, you know that, right?"

She looks amused, almost like she's testing to see if you know the real value of the things offered here. You've got to hand it to her, everything seemed legit; wich only makes you question even more how did she get those things in the first place. She stares at you for a few seconds and briefly reaches for something from below the small counter, placing it on top of a pile of restraining bolts.

It's a dark grey and blue kama, the same size as the one you're holding, though it seems like it has seen better days. The pattern's more detailed in this one: diagonal lines that meet in the middle, forming an arrow-like shape framed by a black seam. The colour reminded you of a worn-out shade of blue similar to the one Captain Rex uses to paint the last pieces of his armour - and you wonder if it's just a sad coincidence or probably the last remainings of a fellow soldier from the 501st.

-"Straight from Coruscant, my great-uncle got a hold of it few days before the Empire became... well, the Empire" - her tone was something you'd been told to avoid using in public when speaking of the Empire. Perhaps it was that courage that had gotten your full attention in the end. Was she with the rebellion in some way as well?

-"Hasn't been worn ever since it was stripped from a dead clone's body" - she continues, checking you up and down - "and maybe it's a bit more your style".

-"Looks decent enough" - you comment and she nods her head in aknowldedgement - "but it does raise the question: how and why are you selling these things... here?"

-"Well, for starters, it's harder to get caught out here. Some of these aren’t exactly... legitimate purchases, as one would say.” - you raise an eyebrow and she chuckles - “this is a legitimate business, I swear. It’s just that my family’s been having difficulties and we're having to sell some relics.”

You can see she's telling the truth as she takes back the kama you'd first grabbed to the side, folding it again. You reach for a different credit pouch out of your pocket: your personal credits.

-"I see. Well, I do need a new blaster, and this one looks like the best i've ever seen in months. Despite the clogged barrel, of course."

-"shall we start negociating a price, then?" - she takes the datapad back and types a few numbers. Before you can say anything, however, you turn back to see Ezra rushing towards you looking desperate.

-"Oh, thank the Force, there you are!" - he brushes the long hair out of his forehead, not sparing a glance to the lady behind the counter -"you just walked off! I didn't know where you were!

Faced with a confused expression from the both of you, he scowls

-"I was at the bathroom! You didn't hear me telling you to wait for me?"

You look at him, suddenly tuning back to reality. All of those relics seemed to have filled you with a melancholic sadness you didn't know, but you managed to snap out of it the moment Ezra came back.

-"Can't believe you forgot me just because of this old junk" - he grumbles, a bit offended. You take his hand into your own.

-"I didn't forget you, Ezra, I swear. I was just distracted for a moment, that's all" - you reassure him, placing some credits on the tray where the lady collected them.

-“I'll be taking this, please” - you take the purse back off of your shoulders and hand it back to Ezra - “you can start taking this back to the ship. I think the list is over, I'll just be taking this and go."

-"wait, Hera didn't tell you to buy this, did she?"

-"It's a personal purchase, with my personal credits. I think I'm allowed that much, right?" - you give him the money bag again, and he shoves in his jacket.

-"Well, can you at least get me something as compensation for forgetting all about me back there?" - you scoff and let go of his hand to slap him on the shoulder

-"Just go along Bridger. I'll be there in a minute"

You turn back to the vendor, who's placing the pistol in a bag with the holster that came along in a slightly larger bag ithan necessary. You also notice the shape of the folded kama peaking though it.

-"Wait, wait! I didn't buy that, I don't have enough credits for that!"

-"Just... consider it a gift" - she smiles and winks - "this specific piece here doesn't really fit anyone's style, anyway. It's better off with you, trust me."

Before you can mutter any type of 'thanks', Ezra calls for you again, making sure you didn't forget your own head back there. You run off to him without looking back, ready to smack him Zeb-style before taking his hand again, reminding him gently he'd never have to worry about being abandoned by you.

[bobafetts-princess]

Hunt Me

Summary: You and Mando are struggling to catch a bounty which makes you wonder how long you could stay hidden from the notorious bounty hunter. What happens when he catches you?

Pairings: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: smut, fingering, smartass reader, slight bondage, dirty talk, Din Djarin using pet names, predator/prey dynamic. Reader is definitely bisexual as am I

Word Count: 4K

A/N: Hey! This is my first fic on tumblr in YEARS so go easy on me 🤣 I hope you guys like this, it was inspired by @tibbietibbs fic called The Bet so please enjoy! Also we support sex workers in this house thx

“Mando.” You prodded, legs crossed in the passenger seat of the Razor Crest as the Child slept next to you in his pod. A bowl of soup sat on your lap, remnants of your dinner you shared with the kid before he crashed out. “Mando.” You asked again, because he ignored you the first time. His helmet turned towards you slightly and you knew that it was the go ahead to ask your question.

“Why can’t we find this guy?”

“He’s smarter than I anticipated.”

“Are we leaving in the morning?”

“If someone will fuel the ship.”

“Do you think we’ll catch him? He seems pretty crafty.”

“Why do you have so many questions?” He snapped and you took the cue to shut your mouth. You were marooned on the planet of Takodana with no fuel and no help, until a fueling center opened in the morning. There was a town near where you’d landed, full of seedy places and bars and you’d heard that your bounty was here, only to find he’d disappeared the moment you arrived on the planet. The Mandolorian was frustrated with being unable to catch his bounty, temper shorter than usual. A thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t help but say his name again.

“Mando.” You prodded once more, wishing you knew his real name. You’d asked him one time, and he didn’t speak to you for three days unless it was regarding the welfare of the Child. He didn’t acknowledge you and you weren’t surprised, but you were discouraged. Your relationship with the Mandalorian had been improving, with you acting as a nanny to the child. The two of you shared evenings together and even the occasional laugh.

Recently you’d even shared some flirtations and you wondered what the Mandalorian would be like in bed. It was inappropriate thoughts of course, but you couldn’t help but have them. His gruff voice and thick thighs haunted your dreams and often you woke soaked through with a sweat that required a few minutes to yourself. You started to wonder if he felt the same way, but with how short he’d been with you this evening, you were certain he didn’t.

“Mando.” You prodded again and he turned his whole body in his chair to give you a look that you’d be willing to bet money on was a glare.

“So obviously we can’t catch this guy.” You started and he started to turn his body away from you with an irritated grunt. “Do you think I’d be this difficult to catch?” You asked him, words rushing from your lips and the Mandalorian sat back in his captains chair with a huff.

“No.” Came the answer a minute later.

“Okay that’s fair.” You nodded to yourself. You’d heard tales from Greef Karga and Cara Dune the one time you met them about the Mandolorians tracking and hunting abilities. And not for the first time, you wondered what it would be like to be tracked by him, and how long you could stay hidden. The thought had you clenching your thighs together and you carefully chose your next words.

“So, how long do you think it would take you to catch me?” You asked and you saw his body seize, as if that was the last thing he expected you to ask. He didn’t even turn towards you when he answered, gravelly voice crackling through the vocoder.

“One hour. Maybe an extra half hour if I gave you a head start.”

“An hour? You cannot be serious! There’s no way I would be that easy to catch.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest in indignation.

“It’s not that you’d be easy, it’s that I know what you’d do.” He told you, body finally turning to face yours.

“What makes you think that? You don’t know everything about me.”

“No, but I think I’d know how you’d think if you were on the run.”

“I’d like to test your theory. I’ll bet it takes you at least two hours to get me back on the ship.”

“I’ll take that bet.” He told you, moving to stand over you and put the cover on the Child’s pram. He leaned down, his beskar helmet leaning close to your ear. “I’ll even give you the head start.” He told you. You took a hard swallow, shifting in your chair, and had to put effort into speaking your next words.

“Fine. But we need a couple rules. One, no guns. I don’t think you’d actually shoot me, but stun guns aren’t fair either.” He cocked his head to the side as if that was obvious. “Two, I want the full experience, I would like to know if I would survive if I was actually being hunted. And three, we need to keep a com in the pram so we know if the Child wakes. If he wakes, the whole thing is off.” You finished.

“Fine. What do you want if you manage to win?” His tone made it clear that he didn’t think that would happen.

“I want to pilot the Crest one time.” You told him.

“No.” Came the short answer you expected.

“What’s the matter, Mando? Afraid you’ll lose?” You taunted, knowing he couldn’t resist the challenge.

“Fine. But don’t be shocked when I have you back on this ship in less than an hour. You have 20 minutes before I start hunting. Better hurry.” His voice was so rough, so gravelly, that you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together at the sound. You lept from your chair, leaving the Child for Mando and brushed past him. Your chest brushed over his arm on your way out and he reached over, wrapping his fingers around your elbow.

“Be careful. There are lots of creatures who would like to get their hands on you. Take something for protection and signal the coms if you get into trouble. I’ll find you.” You nodded, swallowing thickly at the close proximity and his dark promise. “And if at any point it gets to be too much for you to handle, say aaray. It means pain in Mando’a. I’ll know to stop.” You nodded again, and he released you so you could dash to your quarters.

You dressed quickly, pulling out a black robe with thigh high slits and a black hood, with a low plunging neckline. You knew Mando had never seen you in it, so you were hoping it would confuse him enough to let you win. You strapped on two thigh holsters, one with a knife and the other with a stun gun and pulled your hair back out of your face. You grabbed thick, heavy, black boots and you were out the door of the Crest in under 5 minutes. You sped down the nearest pathway leading towards the town, stopping only when the Crest was out of view to put on your boots.

You pulled up the hood of your robe and hurried quickly through town before realizing you needed to stop and put together a plan. You thought that Mando would be expecting you to hide, laying low and avoiding large crowds so you didn’t make a scene. So you decided to do the opposite and made your way to a bar that was loud and rowdy.

You were shocked when you walked in, knowing that Mando would never expect to find you in a place like this. It was a topless bar, with servers and bartenders not wearing any tops and dancers completely in the nude, spinning expertly on poles. There were men everywhere and you were worried that they might also take you for a dancer and proposition you as such. You didn’t see anything wrong with it, but you held eyes for only one man and that man was currently hunting you. But thankfully for you, there were so many women in the place that no one noticed one more.

You quickly got a drink at the bar, tossing a few credits down for the drink and a few more as a tip to the pretty girl who passed it to you. There was a small booth next to a side entrance, perfect for one person to sit alone and observe. You sat, simultaneously watching the door for a glint of silver and watching the dancers routines. They were truly experts of their craft and you marveled the strength of their bodies.

Also women are pretty.

Your drink was almost finished and you knew your head start time had run out, so you patiently waited to see a flash of the beskar armor at the front entrance. It took Mando longer to appear than you’d expected and as time on the clock ticked by, you got more and more hopeful for a win.

You knew Mando would find you regardless, it was just a matter of getting you back to the ship before the time limit and you were willing to wait that out. After what felt like ages, Mando entered the club, and you knew the second he did. The air left the room and a pathway parted as he made his way in. You smiled, knowing this was only the beginning, and waited until he noticed you.

You smirked at him, watching his body freeze as he tried to decipher your next move, and you were off like a shot into the night. You darted down pathways, taking turns at random until you thought you might have lost him. You crouched down next to a barrel, struggling to catch your breath when you heard footsteps. Taking off in the direction opposite them, you sprinted along the cobblestones until you hit a problem. A dead end. You wedged yourself into the corner, back turned to the ally, hoping your black cloak would blend you into the darkness.

Only when you felt a hard beskar chest plate against your back did you realize what a terrible idea it had been.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” His voice crackled in your ear and something hard pressed up against your backside. You thought it was his codpiece, until you remembered that he didn’t wear one. The realization as to what was pressing against you had you gasping and it took almost too many seconds for you to realize he had the binders in one hand and your right wrist in the other.

But unfortunately for him, he didn’t know all your secrets. Your father had been a clone trooper deserter during the Clone Wars, and had stressed upon you the importance of self-defense. He taught you extensive hand to hand combat and the appropriate way to use a blaster, knife, and spear. So you wiggled your shoulders, trying to find the best angle to get out of Mando’s grasp and he stopped.

“We can stop if you want. I don’t want to hurt you.” After a brief tug in your chest that he didn’t want to hurt you, you used his momentary hesitation against him. Twisting out from under his grasp with a sharp elbow to his side between plates of armor, you freed your hands. His answering grunt made you feel successful as you slid your feet, trying to best gauge your options. His beskar would hurt if you made contact, which only left a few options open for you to attack.

He began to stalk towards you, a low growl in his throat that had you clenching. He was irritated that you managed to get free and he didn’t see it coming. Your best option was to try and land shots between his plates of armor, so that was your goal. The two of you engaged in some hand to hand before you managed to sweep the leg. He went down hard, but managed an arm around your waist, pulling you down on his hips and straining erection.

“Is that a blaster in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” You taunted, and you had no clue where this bravado was coming from. He rolled your bodies, smashing your smaller frame beneath his larger one. You breathed heavily, gathering all your strength and landing a shot on the inside of the elbow supporting his weight and knocking him off balance. You rolled your bodies again, grunting with the effort. Scrambling to get off him before he recovered, you had one foot on the pavement and the other in the air when he managed to get ahold of you. You fell in a huff, hands taking the brunt of your fall as the Mandalorian crawled his way up your body, dragging his hard, heavy, cock along your body as he did.

“You won’t manage that twice.” He said, and you were pleased to hear him breathing heavy with the effort.

“Do you get hard catching all your bounties, Mandalorian?” You taunted as he stretched your hands above your head. He attached binders to one wrist and you wriggled underneath him, feeling the weight of him rest against you.

“Keep quiet.” He warned, but you were enjoying yourself. You were definitely soaked with arousal and his was plain as day.

“Do you fuck any of your bounties, Mando? Claim them with your cock before you turn them over? Or am I special?” You asked, voice filled with arousal at the idea of him fucking you after tracking and catching you. He’d gotten the other binder on while you were speaking and his fingers lingered over your wrists.

“That mouth will get you into trouble one day.” He said, fingers trailing down your cheek and rubbing over your lower lip.

“Good. That was my goal.” You told him and he hauled you up by the arm. “What’re you gonna do with me now, bounty hunter? Fuck me against a wall?” You asked, not quite ready to give up the ruse. Your words annoyed him, you could sense the tension rolling off of his shoulders as he pulled something from his belt and slapped it on the wall above your head. You didn’t know what it was until he hit a button on the binders and they magnetized themselves to the small square. The force with which you hit the wall knocked all the breath out of you and the Mandolorian took advantage of your silence.

“Not so chatty now, are you?” He said, his hard body pressing up against yours as his fingers gripped your chin. “I’ll bet this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Dirty girl.” He said and you blushed because he was right. You’d hoped this would be the thing that broke the sexual tension the two of you had, and judging by the way he was rutting against your thigh, you hadn’t been wrong. His hands bunched in the fabric of your robe, pulling it to the side and brushing his fingers along your core. “No underclothes??” He asked, incredulous. Shaking your head, you answered.

“They would show.”

“Even through my gloves, I can tell how wet you are.” He said, dipping his fingers through your wetness and then pulling them out to examine them. They were soaked, your slick sticking to the leather of the gloves like a second skin. He brought those fingers to your mouth, and uttered one word.

“Suck.”

So you did.

The taste of yourself, combined with the fact that you were bound and in public had you moaning against his fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” He praised you, the leather rough against your tongue. He had three of them in your mouth, slipping slowly in and out of your mouth just like if it was your cunt.

“You like this, don’t you?” He asked you, the hand that wasn’t in your mouth palming your breast. Mouth full, you couldn’t answer, so you just nodded. You whimpered when his finger left your mouth, only to groan when they slipped the V of your robe to the sides and exposed your breasts to the cool night air.

“You like it too. Don’t try to tell me you don’t.” You snapped, inhaling sharply when he pinched a nipple in response. “I’ll bet you were hard against your armor the second I suggested you hunt me.” You told him, knowing you needed to shut your mouth but for some reason you just couldn’t.

“You talk too fucking much.” He told you, pulling his gloves off and tucking one in his utility belt. You opened your mouth to ask him what he was planning on doing with the other, when he seized the opportunity to shove it in your mouth. Startled, you let out a noise deep in your throat that ended as a moan as you tasted yourself again, a sweet and salty taste mixed with the tang of the leather.

“That’s better.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “So wet for me.” He whispered, dragging his fingers back through your folds. They found your nub, circling it in a way that had you bucking your hips. “I’d like to see you suck my cock, but I don’t think we have the time.” His words hit a spot deep inside your core, and you needed more. One arm hooked under your knee, lifting it and opening you up for him as he raised your robes.

“What’s this?” He asked, fingering the holsters and the self-protection items you had hidden there. You shrugged, unable to speak, and he moved his fingers north, finally sinking one into your dripping wet core. Your head slammed back into the stone wall at the feeling but you still needed more. He entered a second finger, pumping slowly. “Do you like keeping weapons on you?” He asked, visor trained where you kept the small knife. You nodded, it made you feel dangerous. His fingers set a punishing pace and you were clenching around him sooner than he anticipated.

“I don’t think so, pretty girl. You’ll come when I tell you to.” You groaned around the leather of the gloves and fought off your orgasm. He pulled his fingers from you, dropping your thigh and taking the glove out of your mouth.

“Suck.” He instructed and shoved his fingers in your mouth. Your tongue tasted your own arousal, salty and sweet at the same time. “I’ll bet you suck a good cock baby girl. One of these days I’ll bury myself down that pretty throat.” He mumbled, second hand stroking lovingly along the hollow of your throat. The pads of his fingers drug along your tongue and you moaned at the feeling. He pulled them out, gagging you with the glove again. His other hand dipped to circle your clit, causing you to buck your hips against him. You ached to touch him, to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and dig your fingernails in.

“Think you can take my cock, pretty girl?” And you nodded enthusiastically. Your body was aching to be filled and were thrilled when he hooked your leg again and opened you up to him. He tossed your robes over your hip, leaving you bare and exposed, as he rubbed himself along your folds. Your hips bucked at the feeling and he pulled your other leg up to wrap around his middle, effectively trapping his length between your bodies.

“Fuck I can’t wait to see what you feel like.” He said, hand situating himself so he was right at your entrance. He started the push in, the burn of the stretch making you moan. He pulled the glove out with a compromise.

“If you talk too much, I’ll gag you again. But I want to hear you moan.” Your breath came out in whimpers as he stretched you until he bottomed out, resting his helmet against your forehead. “Ready?”

“Fuck. Mando. Yes.” Was your answer. He started a brutal pace that pushed you up the wall as he entered and slid you down the wall as he pulled out. His fingers pinched your nipples, hands kneading your breasts and you cried out.

“Quiet, girl. Don’t want us to get caught, do you?” He asked but you were too buried in pleasure to answer. “Unless you want that. Want everyone to see how good you take my cock?” He grunted in your ear and all you could do was whimper in response. His fingers circled your clit harshly, making you clench around him.

“Mando. Mando. Mando. Please let me cum Mando please.” You begged, chest heaving from fighting off your impending orgasm.

“Din. Call me Din.” He whispered and your chest seized at the fact that he told you his name. “You’re going to say that name when you cum, pretty girl.”

“Yes Din.” You breathed.

“Now cum.” He instructed and you did, hard. You panted his name, mouth open as he continued to pound into you.

“I’m gonna cum in this sweet pussy.” He told you, thrusts getting sloppy as he reached his end.

“Please cum in me Din. I want to feel you fill me up.” You begged for his cum like a common slut but seconds later he was burying himself in you as thick ropes of cum coated your walls. His helmet rested on the wall by your arms as you both came down from your high, chests heaving.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” You shook your head as he gently lowered you to the ground and de-magnetized your binders. You reached out for him to take them off but he didn’t, instead hoisting you over his shoulder and adjusting your robes so your pussy wasn’t hanging out.

“What the fuck?” You exclaimed as his hand gripped your inner thighs, stained with your combined arousal.

“This is how I take in all my bounties. You’re no different.” He told you and you could feel the chuckle in his voice. You huffed a noise of indignation and smacked his back as best you could with your bound hands. You could feel his cum leaking out of you as he walked and were almost thankful that he was carrying you.

“So what do you want? Since you won?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” He responded and your cheeks flushed with the knowledge that fucking you was his prize. You were quiet the rest of the walk through town, only speaking again when he slid you over his shoulder when you reached the ship.

“How did you find me?” He fixed you with a look that made you feel like the answer should be obvious, but it wasn’t. At your curious glance, he responded.

“I told you. I know how you’d play it.”

“And how did I play it?”

“Well, I assumed your first instinct would be to find somewhere quiet to hide, but you were planning on fighting that instinct because you wanted me to be off balance. I knew you’d find the loudest and most obnoxious place to hide and I wasn’t wrong. The disguise was good, the fighting was better. I didn’t expect you to know how to fight. If it had been someone besides me, you’d have gotten away.” You preened at his praise as he unlocked the binders, and you moved immediately to check on the child. He was fine, obviously, snoring in his pod like nothing had happened. You sighed, heading towards your quarters to freshen up and change but a strong arm on your forearm stopped you.

“Keep that robe on. I’m not done with you yet.”

Masterlist | Taglist

[jgvfhl]

Help I can't stop--

--writing little fics that all involve saving Fives and sometimes other people and then just having Domino hugs at the end. so. yeah. This one has Tup in it! And an Ao3 link~

no warnings ^_^ about 6400 words, very fluffy by the end

Tup liked the busier nights at work, which he hadn’t quite expected. Bartending was a lot more pressure than working behind the scenes--washing dishes or prepping food before the night started--but Tup honestly liked it. Maybe it was his military training rising to the constant stream of orders and people and voices, or maybe he just liked the other bartenders better than the kitchen staff. Whatever it was, tonight was looking to be one of the busiest that week, and Tup only found happy anticipation to meet it.

Maybe a part of it was bartending meant he didn’t have Fives constantly over his shoulder, watching his every move to make sure he didn’t blow their cover or something. After over eight months here, eight months of considerable safety, he still hadn’t relaxed. The only reason Tup was “allowed” behind the bar in front of the customers was the cantina’s owner, Mira. She was the only reason either of them were alive after literally washing up on her doorstep during flood season, so she held some sway. She’d given them beds, meals, she’d never once threatened to turn them in for desertion--all for the requirement they help the aging weequay with her business, the Mirage cantina and inn. They would be fools to refuse, and if that meant Tup was up front, he went up front.

He still worried, naturally. Not so much about the GAR finding them anymore, not so much about the Jedi coming after him, not so much about how each day would end, those fears had largely subsided. Mostly, he worried about his brothers. Fives had explained the chips to him, as much as he knew. It had been a chilling revelation, and it still gnawed at both of their minds, despite having theirs removed. It was constant knowledge that each of his brothers had a ticking time bomb stowed in the back of their brain, just waiting to turn them all against the very people they were built to serve. Fives had sent an encrypted comm to the first person he thought might know how to help: Kix. Hopefully the medic would be prudent with the little knowledge Fives had sent, and hopefully he would know to keep it a damn secret until something concrete could be done about it.

Despite this--despite all of this--Tup had to leave it be. This little riverside town in the far outer rim rarely got news of the war unless battles approached, and just about no mention of Corusanti or Republic politics at all. He had no way to know what was happening. He had no way to affect what was happening. He had to leave it be. Tonight was busy enough without adding the small chaos of his own inner thoughts.

Fives had yet to accept this. Fives… Tup had been serving with Fives for almost a year now. He’d been through plenty of battles with him, hell, he’d survived Umbara with Fives. Fives had a way of… condensing his personality on the field, a way of putting the softer and more vulnerable parts of himself carefully away into some safebox behind walls to protect it from whatever he saw or did in the heat of war. But, afterwards, the old jokes and friendly punches came back in full force, usually helping everyone relax after the battle.

Fives hadn’t taken that safebox out yet.

In fact, Tup wasn’t sure Fives had escaped Ringo Vinda yet. He still saw the same guarded expressions, the same sharp, scrutinizing stare from the field. Maybe it was Tup’s “youth” showing. Shininess. But it had been over eight months since they’d escaped Kamino, and well over six since they’d faced any real danger. Fives couldn’t keep those walls up forever, could he?

Tup couldn’t really remember the last time he’d heard him laugh.

“You got everything you need over there?”

Tup pulled his mind back to his job. “Yeah, thanks, Dan,” he turned to his co-worker over his shoulder. Danula was Mira’s granddaughter, and definitely Tup’s favorite to work with out of the other bartenders. They got along famously--the first nattie friend he’d ever had.

“Looked a little lost in thought,” she replied. “Can’t have that on a busy night, you know?”

“Yeah, ‘course not,” Tup nodded, already moving to refill a pair of glasses. Service with a smile. Wasn’t that one of General Fisto’s mottos? He could have sworn he’d heard it from one of Commander Monnk’s men. Maybe in the same conversation about eating raw seafood like it was okay (which it wasn’t, it was disgusting). At least on a drier planet, he didn’t have that to bother him.

Tup caught sight of one of the regulars making his way through the crowded cantina. He glanced over his shoulder again at Dan, who was now at the other side of the circular bar. She’d be happy to see him.

“Hey, Carreth, good to see you,” Tup greeted the weequay who had arrived.

“Minnow--” Tup’s cover name, part of the precautions of desertion-- “a busy night, I see,” he smiled, craning his neck to catch a glance at Dan behind Tup. Mira and everyone who worked at the cantina knew about Carreth’s crush on Dan. Mira was fine with it, Dan’s parents were fine with it. Dan… had literally only figured it out last week. She was warming quickly to it, though. Carreth was nice, and frankly, too far gone to do anything stupid.

“Yeah, Mirage is a popular place this week,” Tup answered. “I’ll grab Dan for you.”

“Ah--I should tell you,” Carreth said, raising a hand and leaning in. “I noticed a group of your ah… family in town. They might make an appearance.”

Brothers. Tup paused, putting down the bottle of rum he’d pulled for Carreth. “How many? Can you tell me the color of their armor?”

“Kind of… black and red?” Carreth answered, tapping a finger on his chin between two horns. “Only five of them.”

Black and red? Odd. But he just nodded, casting an eye towards the doors. “Thanks for the heads up.” He filled a glass of Carreth’s preferred Corellian rum and left the bottle, then turned to get Dan.

He nearly bowled her over instead, only catching himself with half a second to spare. “Whoa! Hey, sorry--”

“Clones--at the door,” she said at the same time.

He looked. Well. He’d be hard-pressed to miss the guy who looked more Alpha-class than CT, which was more than a little worrying. But he didn’t recognize the armor at all. It didn’t even look regulation. Who were these guys?

“Okay, okay, yeah,” he said, seeing the new arrivals had put Dan on edge almost more than they had him. “Carreth just told me, he’s over there.”

“He did--wait, when--oh.” He turned her around and gave her a gentle push towards her admirer.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?” Force, he was happy Fives had the night off. He would have dragged Tup out of the bar and upstairs to their room before Carreth had finished the warning.

Tup stood his ground, now switched places with Dan on the bar. He kept an eye on the squad of five, watching carefully as they found a table on the edge of the room, then even more carefully as two of them made their way up to the bar in the center of the room.

Dan--Maker bless her--nearly gave up Carreth’s winning smiles to take their orders, but Tup wanted to find out exactly what they were doing here. He waved his hand at her, urging her back to her station.

The two men did stop and stare when he faced them over the bar. “What can I do for you?”

He used their pause to get a better look at them. The one on the left had long dark curls held out of his face by a red bandana with a small skull visible on one side of it. Speaking of skulls, it must have been their squad symbol, because half a skull was tattooed in black over the left side of his face, and the design was replicated in white on the helmet under his arm. The other, Tup had to do a double take, only because he’d never seen a clone with… studs? Ports? Metal… things implanted into his head, clearly visible because of his close haircut. Another quick glance caught the glint of cybernetic metal for a right hand. This guy had seen some things.

“Hi,” the first clone said, a little hesitant.

“This is a surprise,” the other said, a bit more confident. “Pleasant one, I guess.”

Tup shrugged. “As long as you’re not gonna get me in trouble, there won’t be any unpleasant ones.”

The second clone smiled and nodded. “I think some drinks and credits are all that need to change hands here.”

Tup liked this guy. Or at least respected him. “I can do that.”

The tattooed clone rattled off the orders in a way that said these were regular drink requests from the squad.

As he busied himself pulling out five glasses for them, the second clone asked, “Is that a tattoo there?”

Tup looked up to see his head tilted curiously, left hand pointing under his own right eye. “Uh… yeah.” He’d used to keep the teardrop tattoo covered, either a bandage or makeup when Dan could help him, but he’d been leaving it bare lately. Abruptly, Tup was aware that his looks hadn’t changed that much since Ringo Vinda. His hair was still long enough to keep in a bun, and the only difference was the shaved right side of his head where the chip had been removed. He hadn’t wanted to shave his whole head to start over, and he kind of liked the new look. But he still looked a lot like… well. Himself.

“I served with a brother with a mark like that, just looks familiar,” the clone said.

Small talk, clone style. Tup could do this. “Yeah, what was he like? Or is like.”

The other shrugged. “Kinda quiet, pretty nice kid. Didn’t know him for that long before…” He rubbed his head. “Well. Before a few incidents.” Tup could only imagine. “Never found out what happened to him, though. Guess he ran off before I got out.”

His squadmate turned a raised brow on him. “This the one your batcher dragged off about the…” He glanced at Tup. “The thing?”

Tup tried not to stare too pointedly as he finished off the third drink and moved on to the last two--the more complicated orders of the group. That sounded an awful lot like Fives talking about the chips.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Tup.”

He was rather proud of himself for not losing focus and completely ruining the cocktail by adding about three times the vodka needed by freezing up while pouring. But also who the ever-loving kriff were these guys? He started running through what the bandana-ed clone had just said. Unfortunately, he was stopped mid-review by the other one interrupting his thoughts.

“Hey, that reminds me. Can I ask something?”

Tup carefully finished the drink at hand and nodded, now kind of wishing he’d let Dan handle this. “Sure.”

“You haven’t seen any other clones since you… left, have you?”

“No, don’t think so.” Technically not a lie. He and Fives hadn’t seen any others since deserting. But, he could no longer avoid the obvious question of his own. “Can I--um… what do I call you?”

“Echo.”

Well. Tup was pretty sure there would only be one Echo who knew his name and might even be looking for him. There was only, of course, the small hurdle of his supposed death about… a year and, what--five months ago? But that might be the “incidents” he had mentioned earlier, and of course, it would explain his mention of the batchmate Tup had disappeared with.

Fives.

“Give me a minute,” he said, and hurried over to Dan across the way.

She must have been hyper-aware of the little conversation, because she had turned around before he made it to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, I promise,” he said. “I just need you to fill in for a few minutes, there’s something I need to take care of, then I’ll be right back, okay?”

“What?”

“Just--” He floundered a moment, debating how much to tell her. “I know one of them. He’s Blue’s best friend--like best best friend--they haven’t seen each other in a year, longer than that.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Please, they need to talk to each other, I just need to bring him upstairs, okay? Nothing’s wrong.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, her already lined skin gaining more furrows. But, eventually, she nodded, shooing him away with her hands. “Fine, but I’m not finishing this shift on my own.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised again, moving to the little door in the circular bar. He weaved his way around customers to Echo. “Hi, I’ll start over,” he began, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the music. “I’m Tup, Fives is upstairs, I’m taking you to him, okay? Cool.”

Without waiting for an answer (because it had to be yes), he grabbed Echo’s wrist and began tugging him through the throngs of people and around tables towards the “Employees Only” door that led upstairs. Echo didn’t protest. In fact, he didn’t even say much except to add to Tup’s many “excuse mes” and “thank yous” as they pushed through people to get to the stairs.

But once the door had swung back shut again, he pulled Tup up.

“What?”

Echo breathed a quiet laugh. “Hello to you too, Tup. Take a breath.”

Tup released his wrist and let him climb the stairs at his own pace. In doing so, he finally noticed Echo’s boots didn’t look quite right, and it took him several seconds to realize this was because there were no feet attached. The more he looked, he recognized cybernetics from at least the knees down on both legs. “Oh, sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for dragging Echo away or for not realizing what had changed.

“It’s okay.” He put a hand on Tup’s shoulder as they climbed. “How are you both? You and Fives.”

“I’m pretty good,” he answered, silently agonizing over the slower pace Echo had set. “Fives is uh…” He paused, trying to find words that wouldn’t alarm Echo too much. “He’s… been better?”

Echo raised a brow at him, hesitating a step before continuing at a slightly faster pace. “What do you mean?”

Tup sighed. “He’s… I dunno. It’s like he’s…” Words failed him again, and now they had reached the landing on the second floor. The room he and Fives shared was only five doors down. “It’s like he’s hollow, but he’s too full of too much at the same time. It’s why I didn’t want to wait for him to see you.”

Echo nodded, gesturing for Tup to lead on. “I understand. Probably wouldn’t have wanted to wait even if he was okay.”

A knot of anticipation was slowly tightening in Tup’s chest as they approached the door and Tup knocked. He knew Fives was here, and it was technically Tup’s room too, but Fives didn’t like surprises. Anymore, at least. This had to work. If there was anyone in the galaxy who could get Fives out of this person hell he’d put himself in, it was Echo, right? That was how it worked: Echo and Fives, Fives and Echo, the Domino twins, always. Tup wasn’t sure what he’d do if this didn’t work.

______

The first thing that struck Echo about the room was the clear division of lived-in disorder and absent organisation. The room itself was clearly meant for customers and had simply been repurposed to allow Fives and Tup to live there semi-permanently. There were two beds, a connected ‘fresher near the door, a table with two lamps between the beds--all the trappings of a typical (if low-end) motel. But the bed farthest from the door remained impeccably made up in military fashion, there were no personal belongings out that weren’t currently in use, not even a stray sock. It was a CO’s dream, sure, but…

He looked at the other bed--Tup’s bed. It was made, but not impeccably so. There were stray clothes in one corner, a datapad thrown on the covers, little knickknacks on the table beside it. It looked lived in. Tup had claimed this space, a while ago, from the looks of it. Echo remembered the state Fives’ bunk had been in sometimes, the utter chaos happening below his own bunk. What had happened?

“Fives?” Tup stopped where the room widened out to their sleeping area, and Echo stopped behind him.

His batchmate was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a mouse droid in front of him in carefully disassembled pieces, next to a soldering kit and a datapad. He looked a bit like Tech at the moment, except for the distinct lack of goggles and the tank top and shorts.

But it was definitely Fives. Same little tattoo on his temple, same stupid goatee on his chin.

“What’s wrong?” Fives asked, not looking up from the mouse droid’s guts. Echo frowned a little. Tup hadn’t been exaggerating. He sounded… flat.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tup answered. “There’s someone you should see, is all.”

That made Fives look up, and his reaction was instantaneous. He shoved the soldering iron into its holder with one hand while the other found a blaster pistol that had been hidden behind his body on the bed and raised it at Echo. “Who the hell is that?” he growled in a voice Echo had only ever associated with battle. The voice alone was enough to set him on edge, like Fives had just given a warning of enemy incoming and hadn’t just pointed his blaster at him.

“It’s Echo!” Tup shot back, stepping more fully in front of him--between him and the blaster. “Fives, it’s Echo. Maker’s sake, put the blaster down.”

“Echo’s dead, and people lie,” Fives replied in the same stern voice as he rose from the bed to stand at its foot. “Get away from him.” The pistol never wavered, true to ARC standards.

Echo knew he was unrecognizable. When he’d arrived at the RMB on Anaxes after being rescued from Skako Minor, it had been painfully obvious just how much he didn’t look like himself from the way that Jesse and Kix and Hardcase and the others had reacted. Now, with a different haircut, and metal limbs, and no handprint of any kind on his armor, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that Fives didn’t believe it was him. But it still hurt like something vital had just crumpled inside his chest.

“Fives!” There was a note of desperation in Tup’s voice now. How long had they been living like this? Echo remembered the urgency with which Tup had dragged him up here, not even bothering to find out what they were doing here, or if they were a threat to their safety. A while, then.

“Get. Away.”

“No! This is ridiculous!”

“You can scan my wrist if you want,” Echo cut in, holding up his remaining arm. “ID tattoo.” The subdermal pattern of invisible ink would pull up his public military record on any device, displaying his designation and current and previous stations.

This made Fives pause, actually thinking about it.

“Please, Fives?” Tup asked.

After a tense moment, Fives exhaled sharply through his nose, which meant he had relented. He pointed towards a dresser with his free hand. “Fine, grab the scanner.”

Tup took a step forward, then paused to ask, “You’re not gonna shoot him, right?”

A muscle in Fives’ jaw flexed. “I’m not gonna shoot him.”

Tup still moved cautiously, keeping a close eye on Fives as he left his position between Echo and the blaster aimed at him. For his part, Echo slowly moved to take off his vambrace and glove on his left hand, then pulling up the sleeve of his blacks a few inches. Tup stood in front of the dresser between them, fiddling with the handheld scanner.

“Do you wanna do this?” he said to Fives, sounding… tired. Poor kid.

Fives shook his head. “You do it.” It was the gentlest his voice had sounded since they’d walked in. It gave Echo some hope. If Fives could still care this much about keeping Tup safe, the rest of him was still in there. It was just a little buried.

Tup walked over and he held out his wrist for him. The scanner sort of… tickled a bit, after being part of a computer for several months with the Techno Union. It seemed whatever they did to him had made him a bit more sensitive to the electromagnetic spectrum. The stripes of the ID tattoo lit up blue briefly as the device picked them up, and there was a soft beep when it finished.

“Sorry about this,” Tup murmured while the device was processing.

“Don’t, it’s not your fault,” Echo replied with a small smile.

He returned to Fives, holding out the device as a hologram display appeared from it:

ARC-1409

Formerly 501 Legion, Torrent Co

MIA: [unavailable]

POW retrieved from [unavailable] by Gen. Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567, CF99

Reassigned to CF99

It was different than the one Echo had seen, because the GAR devices and droids could pull up his full record, dates included, but it had the important stuff. Echo skimmed the short document, then watched Fives read it through. He saw his batchmate’s eyes hover on the picture in the upper left corner, taken about a month after his rescue. He looked much better now than in that picture. Fives read it through twice, and after the second time through, he reached out and took the device from Tup. The arm holding the pistol lowered its aim from Echo’s head to his feet.

“I have a shift to finish,” Tup said, stepping away once the scanner was out of his hands. “Don’t kill each other while I’m gone.”

Fives didn’t respond, just watched Tup turn and leave.

And that left the two of them alone.

For a moment or two, they didn’t move. Fives seemed lost in thought after reading the document, and Echo didn’t want to startle him. Eventually, he clicked the device off and set it down on top of the dresser, the arm with the blaster now hanging loose at his side.

“How did you find us?” he asked quietly, still facing the dresser. His voice was still unreadable to the inexperienced ear, but Echo could hear a difference. He was still wary. But he wasn’t actively threatening him, and that was a distinct improvement.

“Accident,” Echo replied truthfully. “We needed to stop for fuel after a mission, and the boys wanted a drink, so…” He figured the rest of the story was self-explanatory. When Fives didn’t follow with another question, he added, “Do you believe it’s me now?”

Fives’ empty hand slowly curled into a fist on top of the dresser, then slowly relaxed. “I think so,” he answered.

“Can I ask you to put the blaster down?”

His batchmate looked down at the weapon, like he’d only just noticed it. After another moment of thought, he set it down beside the scanner, then finally looked up at Echo. “What happened to you?”

He shrugged. He was used to people staring at him by now, with all his machinery, and even more used to that question. “An explosion and a few mad scientists.” He took a step towards Fives, encouraged when he made no move for the blaster in response. “The Seppies handed me over to the Techno Union after they pulled me out of The Citadel.” He gestured to his legs and head with his prosthetic hand. “They did all this.”

“Why?”

Echo took another step towards him, scrutinizing his face for the tells and signs he had grown up learning. Even ARC training couldn’t hide it all from him, so despite the emotionless front Fives had put up--and had had on since Echo had walked in, he could tell a few things. Most glaringly, he was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, in some aspects. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping well, if at all, for days at a time, if the shadows under his eyes were anything to go by.

“To get the strategic algorithm,” he answered, keeping his voice soft and even, giving no signs he could see how bad Fives looked. “The one I made with Rex. I guess they were using it on Anaxes about two and a half months after you and Tup left. Rex recognized it, and that’s how they found me.” Fives nodded. He looked numb behind the exhaustion. He rubbed his face roughly, and Echo took another couple steps forward. “No one’s coming after you, Fives.”

He watched his shoulders tense, hands still over his face.

“I mean it. The stuff you sent to Kix about the chips--you did the right thing. We’ve figured a lot of it out, we know Tup wasn’t in control of himself on Ringo Vinda. We know someone set this whole thing up. No one is coming after you, I promise.”

Slowly, Fives’ hands lowered from his face, and Echo’s heart leapt. Finally, he could see something in his eyes. They were no longer forcefully void of emotion, guarded by walls built during ARC training. It would have made Echo smile, if what he saw hadn’t been such overwhelming loneliness. It made sense now that Tup had described a kind of hollowness. If he’d seen something like it before Citadel, he would have wasted no time dragging his brother into a hug and not letting go until he felt the stress ease from his muscles. But then was not now. Fives was hurting, yes. But Echo had to be patient.

He stayed put as Fives moved again, this time over to the foot of the bed to sit on the floor, leaning back against the bedframe. Drained. “Is Tup mad at me?”

Echo did smile then, a small smile, and a little sad. “Oh, Fives,” he sighed.

Fives, always loyal to his brothers first, and the Republic second. Fives, who had always hated being left alone for any amount of time, no matter how brief. Fives, who had always spent extra time with the shinies after their first battles to make sure they took care of themselves. Fives, who had sensed the chips ran deeper than first thought, and risked his life gathering what he could to save his brothers. Fives, who had suddenly found himself without anyone, except Tup, and had done everything in his power to keep his little brother safe, no matter what it would do to him.

“No, I don’t think he’s mad at you,” he finally said, walking the few steps over until he was standing to Fives’ left. “A little frustrated you did this to yourself, maybe. But not angry.” He gestured to the floor next to his brother. “Can I sit?”

Fives nodded, barely a dip of the chin. “I just wanted to keep him safe,” he said in a very small voice.

“You did,” Echo told him as he sat down next to him, but facing towards him. “You did a great job. No one even thought to look here, no one had any idea where you two had gone.” He set down his glove and his vambrace that he’d been carrying since taking them off. Then he started taking off the rest of the armor on his arm, setting it all in a pile off to his far side.

Fives watched him, curious, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he wanted to know, “What did you find out about the chips?”

Echo frowned as he unclipped the sides of his chest plate and pulled the whole thing over his head. He wanted Fives to relax, to let go of the stress he’d been carrying. Talking about what they’d discovered, and what they had yet to figure out, would just get him thinking again. “Do I have to tell you now?” When Fives’ only response was dropping his gaze to the floor between his feet with a minuscule shrug, Echo elaborated. “Fives, as your batchmate, let me say this: you are dead tired. You look like you’ve been running on fumes--mentally and emotionally, if not physically--for about two weeks. Kix would scrape the medic symbol off his shoulder bell if he let you go anywhere in this state. I would rather wait until tomorrow, so I can make sure you get a good night’s rest and some breakfast, and then I will tell you and Tup everything. Okay?”

Fives knew he was right. Echo knew that he knew he was right. He drew his knees up to his chest and rubbed his face again. “Okay,” he sighed, but he didn’t look happy about it.

Echo smiled again. “You know you missed my nagging,” he said, holding out his hand.

To his utter delight, the corners of Fives’ mouth pulled up ever so slightly. He put out his hand, hesitated a little, but finally let it land in Echo’s. “Yeah, I did,” he agreed, linking their thumbs and holding tight. He let his head fall back against the mattress behind him, avoiding his brother’s gaze, but Echo’s trained eye saw the muscles in his neck constrict, saw the small stutter in his breathing, and he already knew.

“Looks like rain, huh?” he said quietly, squeezing his brother’s hand. It was an old code from Domino’s cadet days. They had all been so damn stubborn, none of them had wanted to admit when they needed a good cry. So, they had used Kamino’s weather as a cover. Fives and Echo had kept it up, even when it no longer made sense on a ship in the middle of hyperspace, for example.

Fives shut his eyes tightly and nodded, squeezing his hand in return.

“C’mere.”

He uncurled from where he sat against the bed and let Echo gather him up in his arms, holding him against his unarmored chest--because he had been pretty sure it would end up like this. Fives pressed his face into his left shoulder immediately, wrapping both arms around his torso and digging his fingers into his blacks. Echo rested his chin on his brother’s hair and put his hand on the back of his neck, holding him there while he unraveled.

How long had it been since he had seen his last batchmate? Something approaching two years at this point. Echo hugged tighter upon remembering that, and upon remembering what it had been like trying to put his life back together after the Techno Union without him. He was determined to keep Fives from going through anything like it now, even if this reunion was far from what he might have imagined.

After some time Echo didn’t bother to track, he felt Fives settle in his arms and heard his breathing descend to a more normal pace. He pressed a kiss to his head and ruffled his hair. As much as he hated hearing Fives cry, this was light years better than the calculating and emotionless man who’d had a blaster pointed at him a few minutes ago. It hurt, yes, but it was human. If it made Echo’s heart twinge a little, it was worth it to know this was normal.

“Feel better?” he murmured. Fives nodded silently, loosening his death-grip on his brother’s blacks. “Can we get off the floor now? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

The noise Fives made was somewhere between a sob and a cough as he sat up from where he’d been slumped against Echo’s chest. But he was smiling, weakly, so it must have been a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

Echo helped him wipe away a few stray tears. “You’re a kriffing mess, brother,” he smirked. “Maybe you can get some sleep until Tup’s shift ends, hm?”

“You’re staying, yeah?”

“Of course I’m staying,” he assured him, a little affronted he would think otherwise. Fives nodded, letting his head fall forward until their foreheads touched. Echo leaned in and felt a shaky breath of relief leave his lips.

“I really need a drink.”

Echo sat up with a smile. “You and me both, but I think sleep will be better for you.”

______

It was a little after midnight by the time Tup had finished his shift and he was climbing the stairs to his room again, this time with three beers in his hands, because he felt bad about whisking Echo off without filling his order. Echo’s new squad was still downstairs. He’d explained what had happened to them, and they had all been surprisingly accepting of it. Echo must have told them about Fives.

He hesitated in front of his door, one hand on the handle. He couldn’t hear anything from inside, which… was probably good, right? They’d had over two hours to themselves. Either they’d settled things, or they’d stunned each other. Well. He pushed the door open, knocking on it lightly as he did so.

“Hey, guys, I’m back.” He walked softly until he was in the main part of the room, then he smiled.

Echo and Fives were laid out on Fives’ bed, the latter tucked safely under his batchmate’s arm. It was the first time Tup had actually seen Fives asleep in weeks. Usually, he was still up when Tup went to bed, and awake before Tup got up. It was also the first time in months Fives had willingly put himself in contact with another person. He noticed Echo’s full kit was piled at the foot of the bed, along… along with his legs, yes. He was still getting used to that.

Echo was blinking sleepily when Tup walked in. “Hey, Tup,” he smiled. “Those for us?”

Tup held up the three bottles. “Yeah. I… felt kinda bad you didn’t get your drink earlier.”

Echo nodded. “Oh, it’s alright. But, I will certainly take that drink now, as soon as I get this lump off my arm.” He waved the hand attached to the arm Fives had pinned down.

Tup walked over and sat down on the end of the bed where Echo’s feet weren’t. “I’m glad he’s asleep.”

“Yeah, me too,” his older brother agreed, rubbing Fives’ shoulder. “But, I said I’d wake him up when you came back.” He patted Fives’ shoulder a bit more aggressively. “Come on, brother.”

It took a while, but it worked eventually. Fives grumbled quietly, at first shoving his face deeper into the pillows before Echo dragged his arm out from under him, then he hauled himself upright. Echo similarly pushed himself up, leaning against his brother.

“Hey, Fives,” Tup said, still a little uncertain.

Fives rubbed his eyes, then blinked groggily at him. Echo ruffled his hair roughly to help him wake up, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. A real one, too, not one of the tight, professional smiles Tup had seen him use in the past. “Hey, Tup.”

A huge smile lit up Tup’s face. Echo had done it. “That’s more like it,” he said triumphantly.

“Yeah, I know,” Fives said, looking a bit sheepish, which was awesome, because Tup hadn’t seen many emotions out of him other than a range of unhappy in way too long. “Sorry about… everything.”

Tup’s smile softened a bit. “Thank you. It’s okay--I mean, I’m glad you’re okay.”

He nodded back. “Yeah, well… we’re getting there.” His eyes landed on the drinks in Tup’s hand. Tup had picked out one he knew was a favorite. “Those aren’t being saved for any special occasion, are they?” he asked, gesturing to them.

Tup smirked and held them up. “Just this one,” he answered, and handed them out.

He was about to get up to get a bottle opener, then watched as Echo’s cybernetic hand plucked off the cap like it was nothing. Fives blinked at his batchmate’s open bottle, then held out his to open as well. Echo rolled his eyes, but obliged. Fives smiled again, clinking their bottles together before taking a swig.

Echo held out his hand to Tup, whose bottle remained unopened. “It’s the most hand-like thing this thing can do, please,” he urged, so Tup held out his bottle and let him open it.

Then Fives scooched back to sit against the headboard and gestured Tup over as well. “C’mere,” he said, “I’ve been a dick to you, I should start making it up.”

Tup gave another huge grin and got up to get on the other side of the bed. “Good to have you back,” he said, maybe a little smug, as he kicked off his shoes and carefully climbed in so he didn’t spill his drink.

“Glad to be here,” Fives said, putting an arm around Tup’s neck and tapping their foreheads together lightly. “Good on you for bringing in the heavy artillery,” he added, gesturing with his bottle to Echo on his other side.

Tup could only give a nonverbal sound in reply as he took a drink. Then he sighed contentedly and relaxed against Fives’ side. He hadn’t quite realized how much stress he had been carrying because of Fives, and it was all leaving him in a rush, like he’d just taken off his kit after a twelve-hour march. He felt light, and happy, and safe. And hopefully, it wouldn’t be too long before they could really go home, and he could see the rest of his brothers. The thought made him smile as he listened absently to Fives and Echo chat about nothing in particular. Yeah. This was good.

[hellothere-generalangsty]

I HAD A BRAIN WAVE MOMENT

DO YOU REMEMBER WAYYYY BACK WHEN EVERYONE HATED ASOKA? DAVE DID THAT ON PURPOSE SO HE WAS IN CONTROL OF WHAT PEOPLE HATED ABOUT HER. OK NOW THIS MIGHT BE A LONGSHOT THAT HOPEFULLY DOESN’T END UP LIKE LONGSHOT THE CLONE, BUT, IM HOPING THATS WHATS DAVE IS DOING WITH TBB. BEING IN CONTROL OF WHAT THE FANDOM HATES ABOUT IT AND THEN IMPROVING IT SLOWLY BIT BY BIT.

PLEASE IM DESPERATE FOR A EXPLANATION!

(also where’s my explanation about why the clones are white washed, dave? hmm? where is it dave?)

OMG LOOK.

It wouldnt excuse the whitewashing or the weak scenario, because he got us used to some good stuff now (tcw s7, Mandalorian, that kind of things)

But it would make sense - to a certain extent - to work that season as a "cliché team in a cliché scenario" and see how people react to be able for a second season (if there's a second season) to improve it

_

Disclaimer: I'm a white, abled person so I'm not trying to speak on behalf of poc/disabled people, but I think it's important to support them and listen to the critics they make about SW and it's content

Also this is quite long I got carried away but worth it it is!

I linked some of @rebekadjarin 's post here because I read a bit through her blog today and agreed with her posts; and I invite you to check out the "#whitewhashed tbb" if you want more extanded and developed information about that matter! (As my knowledge on the matter is still quite limited/ incomplete due to my privileges, and this post is more of a summary than a real analysis)

_

So here, we know that the fans are unhappy about:

- the whitewashing of the Bad Batch (especially since they proved they could animate dark skinned people/ more generally poc with the first seasons of tcw, Kanan in Rebels and the Separatist in the latest TBB episode)

It is a real problem and it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Even if they are different, the Batchers are still clones and it's really not that hard to show their enhancement while keeping Temuera's features and skin colour (I mean, look at all the artists who did and do it everyday on this app; no excuse here)

Star Wars has wasted a lot of potential on numerous occasions because they keep doing stuff like this; and it's quite ironic (and very sad) to see that racism, ableism and stereotypes are prevalent in a universe where people fight for equality and peace...

Here and here are two posts about it (if you're the author of these posts and want me to delete them from my post please tell me so; I took the liberty of adding them because I think they highlight quite well the issue and do a clear job at showing the whitewashing in SW/ around the clones)

~

- the way Crosshair is treated; both by the Batchers and the writers, he's manipulated by the chip yet no one is talking about rescuing him and we see nothing about the effect of his absence on the Batchers (they don't mention him, don't try to save him, and Hunter is more distraught by Omega's absence than by his own brother's)

And don't get me wrong, Omega is a kid and she's nice, of course they have to take care of her and protect her

But they also don't know her purpose; why is she here? She could be a bad omen (maybe she doesn't even know it! The Kaminoans probably didn't tell anyone about her real purpose and I stand by the idea that the infos they got about her are all wrong and purposefully misleading) and I have the dark feeling that she will be the end/ death of the Batchers by the end of the serie, even if she didn't wanted it that way

But Crosshair is never mentionned, except for when he's needed in the scenario. Which is a shame, because he's a Batcher too even if he's mind-controlled and (for now) working for the Empire. He's supposed to be a main character, and he's a key element to the plot; yet out of 10 episodes we saw him in only 3, and only the moments where he was acting bad (i'm excluding the lonely moment at the end of ep2 because it had a lot of potential about him fighting the chip but that was all we had and i'm still bitter about it lol)

Here is a post about it

~

- speaking of plot; I feel like it's always the same disk playing since episode 2-3: They have a mission given by Cid, they do it, things go wrong, Omega saves the day and they get the money.

Crosshair is doing bad guy stuff so no need to tall about him (haha right?)

Now. I'm a good public. I know when to activate the Dummie™ in me and enjoy a show about a found family doing crazy jobs for a criminal and raising a newly adopted daughter at the same time. It's fun, it's sweet, sometimes it get emotional and the animation is beautiful (the lights are amazing I am always in awe)

I can enjoy it and be in awe and see Echo sniffing food and Tech smiles and Wrecker playing with Omega and feel happy about it.

But I also expected more. I hadn't any clear idea because I didn't wanted to set expectations (how ironic) but I can't help but feel sad about the wasted potential around Empire! Crosshair and the rise of said Empire.

If you want to antagonize one of the main character, do it, but do it fully and do it well. Show us Crosshair getting really invested in a plan to catch the Batchers and suddenly making a scene for a tiny detail that could blow it up; show us Crosshair and Hunter fighting each other hand to hand after they disarmed each other, and Crosshair getting the upoer hand until something holds him back; just enough for Hunter to take control again

Show us a complex character who suffers but doesn't fully realise it, and show us brothers mourning yet hoping to get the family back again you know?

~

- the way Echo is treated by the Batchers. And as much as it saddens me, they do him dirty in the show.

Echo is a war veteran, an ex- prisoner and a disabled character. He went through a lot; first he lost the Domino squad, then he lost brothers on Kamino (including 99 who was close to his squad), then the Citadel happened and he lost both his legs, an arm, his freedom, his brothers and probably any hope to be saved.

Then they found him in that freezer, and he probably realised that, if Fives wasn't here to save him, it meant he lost him too.

Then he left Rex to go with a team of 4 because he probably didn't feel like he belonged with "regs" anymore; he chose strangers over brothers because he thought he couldn't find his place there. Which in itself is sad and problematic.

And now he's with the Batchers, and they don't seem to grasp the importance of his trauma. I mean; they always had the 4 of them and never lost a brother (apart from Cross; which is another wasted potential here because they could have exploited that trauma and made a parallel with Echo being so used to losing brothers and them experiencing it for the first time on such a personal level you know) and they do some crappy stuff to him.

Selling him as a droid? Not cool.

Brushing off his trauma for a mission and some credits? Not. Cool.

And Echo can't say anything because he chose them, and now he has nowhere to go anyway because Order 66 happened; and he probably doesn't want to be a burden to Rex, and he probably doesn't want to abandon his brothers especially now that Cross is gone and they have a child to take care of

But yeah there are a lot of things happening - or NOT happening - around Echo and his trauma and his disability that are wrong and people are right to talk about it

Here is a post I read and I agree with it

~

- Overall, the way the show and the characters are handled; they often feel very stereotyped/ cliché and the basic plot doesn't really help for character development or improvement

I read a post about it and it was really interesting; they linked the whitewashing of the characters with their abilities/enhencement

Tech and Crosshair are the smartest and the whitest in the group (which is bad)

Wrecker is portrayed as the Bid Dummie™ and he's the one with the "darker" skin and the features closest to Temuera/ Maōri features (also very bad)

Hunter is straight up a Rambo with a face tattoo, and Echo - and you guys know I love him - is whiter than a sheet of paper (all so bad)

Not only this, but there is no improvement in their personality or thinking

They don't seem to evolve, and just like their mission, they end up playing the same song over and over again

Hunter is the broody soldier and though people enjoy talking to him as a Dad (count me in) but he's not a good dad for Omega (he calls her soldier and is always acting awkward and uncomfortable around her)

Wrecker could be a better dad for her; but again they display him as a big dummie and give the impression he couldn't take well care of her

Tech is here to be the smart one, we only see him when they need someone to do the smart speaking and the complicated computer things

Echo is the grumpy reg, the "more droid than man" and sometimes the Mom™ but they never show him talking about the Empire or the trauma or how the I am not Freaking Out™ I did came back for this Shit™ he's just here to... Be here and be grumpy and bring the oldest clone wars fans to watch TBB

And Crosshair is almost non-existent.

Here is another post about it

~

What could it be then?

So either Dave is pulling a Ahsoka on us; but he'll still have a lot of things to correct and explanations to give because I can excuse a bad plot but I draw the line at blatant racism ans ableism (especially when they KNOW the fans and they KNOW what people want and they KNOW it would probably bring more people to enjoy and get invested in the show)

- If he's doing this, he will probably work with the animator to correct the whitewashing (because it really is the only really wrong thing in the animation, the rest of it is quite good to be honest like the light, framing and all)

- Understand that Tbb and Mandalorian are two different shows and cannot be treated the sale way; so he'll get back to the main plot and hopefully work on Crosshair's arc and hos his absence/ him being controlled by the chip affects him/ the Batchers/ their relation

- He'll probably work more on displaying the effect of their trauma; collective and personal, and see how it reflects on their relations (and give Echo the healing he deserves)

- By extension, give the characters more depth and complexity, dig their stereotypical surface and reveal their true nature (show me a ruthless yet easily overwhelmed Hunter; a smart but constantly anxious Tech, a very emotional Wrecker playing the big explosive dummie to protect himself, etc.)

Well, that's what I would do

Or he's just... Doing this and not planning any changes; in which case I'll probably do what I did with SPN s15: stop watching, scroll through tumblr to get some infos and gifs and tell everyone about how dirty they did the characters, and they did us.

~

But I really hope he's hearing us and taking our remarks into account; the show in itself had a lot of potential and I'm still hanging on the thin hope that the ending could "save it"; but I also have no expectations and am in fact waiting for a disappointing ending

On a brighter note, I'm glad the fandom exists because I see artists and writers and gif-makers and theorists and all kind of people creating and sharing their own content, headcanons, art, writing and they all feel right and better than the canon

Like yes, give me a in-character dark skinned clone who deals with his trauma and the sudden changes around him in a realistic way

Tell me about the real effects of the war on soldiers, and the truth behind the corrupted government taking over the galaxy, and the efforts everyone has to make to survive, exist and live together

If Dave and his team cannot do it, I know you guys can and that's why I'm glad to be here too; you give me hope when they fail to do so 💙

~

I hope I like... Answered this correctly? 😂 I got carried away but yeah, though I'm usually not vocal about it and try to enjoy it with my Dummie Energy™ I still see and read about what you all think, and usually I agree with you; the show deserved better and we deserved better

Now back to ignoring the canon and writing a fic about my very much alive and beloved Fives 🥰

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

chapter I

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings/things to note: star wars swear words; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); blatant lack of knowledge of ship mechanics; only one use of ‘Y/N’

word count: 5.1k

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. Actually, one had never showed up. And this one was huge. A buff man, covered in heavy armor that had been painted blue. Even his helmet evoked fear. The townspeople were watching myth become reality. 

The large man walked into Aliria’s Shop. The shop had a name once, when Aliria’s parents had opened it, but that was some 80 years ago now. The shop had survived the Clone Wars and the Empire, not to mention the constant flow of smugglers and thieves customary to the Outer Rim. Aliria’s Shop wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

It was a fairly small shop, especially considering all the things packed into it. Aliria carried food, clothes, a small array of weaponry, and medical supplies. There wasn’t much in the little town, a droid mechanic, a ship mechanic, a small infirmary, and a bar. Aliria’s Shop was the hub, she had the essentials. 

The Mandalorian was like a bull in a china shop inside the store. Aliria had crammed crates, tables, and shelves into every crevice of the store. Not to mention the various pieces of merchandise hanging from the ceiling. 

“Watch it, Mandalorian!” Aliria yelled at the man as he almost hit the shelf of fruits with the huge gun on his back. She may look like a frail older woman at the age of 75, but her voice didn’t show it. Aliria’s tan skin was weathered and her body was tired, but her voice held life. She was the backbone of the community. 

The armored man let out a gruff sorry before moving on. He was looking down at his gauntlet, reading some kind of list. “Kriffing hell, how do I find anything in here?” 

“We don’t get many outsiders, Mandalorian,” she said. “But my sales associate can help you. She was an outsider once, too.”

The pitch black of his visor shifted to you. Your hair was a bit messy, as you’d just helped your co-worker unload a speeder of goods. But you smiled at him. A change of pace is always nice. You walked from behind the counter to be in front of the Mandalorian and you asked, “What are you looking for, sir?” Your customer service voice was rough, you never needed to use it with most of the customers. They knew you personally, everyone knew everyone here. 

“You got ration bars?” His voice was gruff and deep, but you couldn’t tell if that was just because of the helmet. 

“Not many,” you told him. “Maybe ten? Aliria has such good prices, no one ever needs to buy a ration bar in place of real food.” It was a sales pitch you’d been taught when training here, but it was the truth. Why pay a credit for a ration bar when you can pay a credit for instant noodles? 

He huffed a little. “I’ll take all ten.” This man was weird, you decided. “Non-perishables? Do you have any?”

“We’ve got some beans, some vegetables that won’t go bad for at least a few years, rice, and a few other things. They’re all kind of scattered around.”

“Of course they are,” he was annoyed. “Where’s the vegetables?”

You pointed through a door at the back of the shop. “Greenhouse out back. Tell me what you need, I’ll go grab it.” Reluctantly, he showed you his gauntlet. It was a grocery list. You locked the information into your mind, grabbed a basket and headed to the greenhouse. 

When you got back, he was in the same place. He must’ve seen your confusion because he said, “I’d rather not waste time looking for things myself. I figure you’d be better at it.” And you were. You helped him get everything he needed, but the list just got weirder. Baby formula, toddler sized coveralls, ammunition, a journal, and more miscellaneous items that made no sense to you. You didn’t believe a Mandalorian was going to hand write something and in a journal, no less.

You wanted to know more, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be keen on questions. Before you’d come to Dantooine, you’d been all over the galaxy and heard stories of Mandalorians and their secrecy. 

“What brings you to Dantooine, Mando?” You ask as you ring up the last of his items, putting them in the up-cycled grain bag grocery bags. You were tired of the tense silence, Aliria had gone into the back to do Maker knows what, and the Mandalorian’s stare was unnerving. 

“Work,” he said. His visor remained unmoving, his eyes were on you. You had a feeling that ‘work’ was something either illegal or close to it. “You?”

You were surprised. And, again, he must’ve noticed. “The old lady said you are an outsider, too.”

“Was an outsider, Mando,” you correct, bringing up his total. “I came here for work, too.” He could tell you were lying, or at least not sharing the whole truth. “It’s two-hundred credits, Mando.”

He reached into a pouch on his belt, and pulled out all the credits. “That should be two-hundred.” It was. Exact change and everything. Once you’d counted the money and placed it in the register, he grabbed all his bags with ease and turned to walk out. 

“Have a nice day!” you tell him, remembering your lines Aliria insisted on. He said nothing in return.

-  

Paz Vizsla arrived back at his ship far out from the town. He put the bags of supplies for the covert in the cargo hold and cleared the message from Armorer that detailed what they needed. After the covert had to relocate, they were in desperate need of supplies. Especially for all the children who lost a buir or, Maker forbid, both buire. The children who had basically become foundlings. Paz’s heart broke for them, he tried to be the best ba’vodu, but there some things that even stories from Uncle Paz couldn’t fix. 

He’d spent the little bit of left over change from the bounty on something for each kid, even Bezza, who was old enough to be treated as an adult at seventeen. She’d lost her buire, and the least Paz could do was get her a nice, leather-bound journal that she’d been pining for. Something hard to come by in a galaxy that had moved on from physical writing. 

Paz closed the cargo hold and began moving himself towards the cockpit. He was tired, and though no one else agreed, he was getting old. Nearing 44, he was ready to just be Mr. Vizsla the teacher, Uncle Paz, and hopefully buir someday. But he was one of the Tribe’s best fighters. They needed him to keep hunting, so he did. This is the Way. 

He moved to start up the ship. It gave a groan, but lit up all the same. Paz began his takeoff procedures, but the ship wouldn’t budge. Kriff, he thought. This can’t happen. Paz Vizsla was a capable fighter, fluent in Mando’a, and a brilliant teacher, but he was no mechanic. That had always been his biggest shortcoming. I have no credits, he realized. Stuck on Dantooine with no credits. 

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. But this one had now shown up twice. The awe of the townsfolk was still the same. He trudged back into Aliria’s Shop. This old woman would know someone willing to fix a ship for some food, he thought. She seems to know everything.

Except, when he walked in he was greeted by a new face. Not the saleswoman who’d helped him a few hours ago, nor was it the old woman. “How can I help you?” The boy asked. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. 

“You know anyone who’d be willing to fix a ship for a meal? Or maybe a small blaster?”

The kid shook his head. “No one around here is that desperate. I’ll go get Aliria, though. She might know someone I don’t.” The kid retreated into the back room without fully taking his eyes off Paz. 

When he returned, he had Aliria hobbling along next to him, bony hands around his arm. “Zenith says you need a mechanic? There’s a shop down the road but what he charges won’t be worth what you get,” the woman says. 

“I need someone who will work for something other than credits,” he says. “I don’t have any.”

You looked up from the datapad in the backroom. You had experience as a mechanic, you were rusty after all these years, but better than the other option, who probably learned by seeing a few pictures on the holonet. Maybe this was your ticket back out of the Outer Rim. You’d amassed enough credits to at least get an apartment for a bit until you can get work. Core Worlds always had open jobs, and you have connections. You hated to leave the little town, but it had always been the goal. You just thought it’d be many more years. 

You stepped out of the back room. “I’ll do it, Mando. I’ve got experience, I can probably fix it.” Zenith seemed surprised, but Aliria just smiled.

“I can’t pay,” he reiterated. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve said. We’ll negotiate the price on the way to your ship. You got tools?” He nodded. “I’ll be back tonight, Aliria. I’ll finish up inventory then.” The old woman told you not to worry about it and shooed both of you off, ready to get back to whatever she was up to in the storage room. 

As soon as the door shut behind you, you said, “Passage to Hosnian Prime. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Hosnian Prime? Do you know how long it’s going to take me to get from Dantooine to Hosnian Prime?” He was annoyed. The ship must be having a minor issue, but you were wanting a major payment. “And so far out of my way, my home is in the Outer Rim. And I’ll have no credits to refuel.”

Now you were the annoyed one. “I’m fixing your ship, Mando. You said anything but credits. My offer is passage to Hosnian Prime for the fixing of your ship.”

“How do I know you can even fix my ship? Why aren’t you the town mechanic?”

This wasn’t something you wanted to get into. You hadn’t talked about it in so long. Not since you got to Dantooine and Aliria took you in, vowing to help you back to wherever you wanted to be. “I was done being a mechanic, Mando, that’s why.”

“So you decided to work in a dingy little shop? With the galaxy’s oldest woman?”

You felt anger grow stem from the seed of annoyance. Aliria was like your grandmother. Like the whole town’s grandmother. And here comes an outsider, insulting Aliria’s shop. Aliria’s family built that town from the ground up. And this outsider insults her. “Do not speak of Aliria or her shop like that again, Mando. Or I won’t fix your ship and you’ll be stuck on Dantooine forever.”

Paz felt bad. He’d cut too deep, he’d only meant it to be a friendly dig about your job, a job most people weren’t ever satisfied with. He’d thought you’d laugh. He’d thought wrong. You walked in silence the rest of the way. 

“This is your ship?” you asked. No wonder it wouldn’t get off the ground. “Maker, Mando, what have you put this thing through?” It was dented, covered in carbon scoring, and there were chunks of it missing. You could only guess how bad the inner workings were. 

“A few altercations,” he replied. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at this sorry excuse for a Mandalorian’s ship with love and pride. 

You laughed a little and shook your head. “I haven’t even looked at the wiring, but I think taking me to Hosnian Prime is the absolute least you could do for the work I’m going to have to do on this thing.”

“I just need it to fly,” he told you. “Nothing fancy.”

“Mando, this thing is going to pull itself apart when you try to leave the atmosphere. I’m surprised it even made it through,” you told him. 

The ship always groaned a little when Paz asked it to do things, but it always had obeyed. Without fail. Until now, of course. “It did sound a bit...pained when I arrived.” He left out the whole being fired at by ex-Imps and the harsh landing he’d made that’d landed him here. 

“Alright, I’ll go take a look, if that’s ok? And I’ll try to tell you when I think I’ll have it done.” He nodded, and pushed a button on his gauntlet, giving you access to the ship. 

-

“Bad news and good news,” you told him as you reemerged from the ship. “Bad news is this is a piece of junk and you should replace it. Good news is I can fix it and it’ll only take a few days.”

A few days. He needed to get these things back to the covert, they needed them. “Ok,” he said. “But before I take you to Hosnian Prime, we’ll need to make a pit stop on Yavin IV. I gotta get these supplies back.” You nodded, just as long as you’d be getting to Hosnian Prime at some point. 

“I’ll get started, if that’s ok?” He nodded and you retreated back inside. The external damage wasn’t as crucial as the internal, your job was going to be rough.

It was a long, hard rest of your day. The blasted ship held the humidity of the planet tightly and your coveralls were thick. You’d brought down the top half to tie around your waist, leaving you in your tank top and bra. You caught glimpses of the Mandalorian as you moved past the port holes, and he just sat there on a rock, not moving. All day. You couldn’t imagine the heat under that armor. 

When you came out of the ship again, it was night. “I’ve made good progress. It won’t be done tomorrow, but maybe the day after. If I’m lucky, of course.” And worked almost non-stop, you silently added.

“Good,” he says. “Go home and rest, dal’ika.”

You furrowed your brow. “My name isn’t dal’ika.” 

“I know,” he said, and then he moved past you onto his ship. 

“Good night to you, too!” You called. 

- 

You walked to Aliria’s small home once you got back into town. She deserved to know your plans, you thought. She’d probably even help. 

“Ah! Dear! You’re back!” she said. “I was worried the Mandalorian would take you, but then I figured you’d comm if he’d try anything.”

You smiled. “He didn’t do much of anything. Just sat there.”

“What did you tell him your price is, dear?” 

You took a deep breath and sat on the sofa next to her. “Passage to Hosnian Prime.”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded. “It’s time,” you said. “I have enough credits, especially since I won’t have to pay for transportation.”

“What will you do there, dear?” Aliria was worried. You were a grown woman, yes, but she felt protective. 

“Find General Organa,” you said. “See if she keeps promises.” You knew she would. She always had.

Aliria gave a bittersweet smile. “I knew you’d leave someday, but I never thought of how it would feel.” Her heart was breaking, and so was yours. This woman took you in when you showed up a mess on Dantooine, she held you during nightmares, and she helped you buy the little hut you now call your own. She gave you a job and a place in the community. “You’ll do much good on Hosnian Prime, dear. I know you will.”

You didn’t know what she meant, but somehow you believed her. “Thank you, Aliria. Thank you.” You couldn’t seem to say anything else, but it wasn’t adequate to what you were feeling. You needed a stronger phrase, but you didn’t know one.

“Take care of that Mandalorian, now,” she said, trying to be a bit more lighthearted. “I’ve always thought you’d like a warrior husband.”

You rolled your eyes. All the old women in town were like this. “He barely even talks to me and calls me dal’ika instead of my name, which he hasn’t asked for, by the way.”

“He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure. Especially if he’s got to take you from here to Hosnian Prime,” Aliria said. “You didn’t talk much when you arrived, either, remember?”

Aliria always had a way of finding the good in people, even if it was hardly there. That was rare, especially this far out in the galaxy, and you cherished it. You’d learned early on not to do that, but Aliria helped you open up more. Maybe she was right, this journey would result in a new friend.

“Ok, Ali, I will take care of the Mando,” you said. “Now I think I’m going to go home. Want to be up early tomorrow to fix his ship.”

She nodded and patted your knee. “Take the speeder bike tomorrow, it seems like a long walk.” You nodded, and placed your hand over hers for a moment. “Good night, dear. Sleep well,” she said and then she shooed you out in the way only an old lady could.

-

The next morning it was cooler outside. The trees swayed gently in the soft wind, and you became grateful for the coveralls as you picked up speed on the bike. You looked the same as you did the day before, just a little less rested. There was a little sunlight, but not much, and there were still a few nocturnal animals on the path. 

Arriving at the ship, everything was still closed up, and the big Mando nowhere in sight. You contemplated banging on the door, but before you made a decision the door lowered into a ramp and he walked out. “You’re very early, dal’ika.” 

“Told you I would be. Need all the daylight I can get.”

“Indeed.”

His gaze bore down on you again. You really took in how large he was. He had to be over six feet tall and maybe even closer to seven in the armor. A few people in town speculated that he wasn’t actually as buff as he seemed and that it was just the armor, but you doubted that. 

“I’ll go ahead and get started, if that’s ok?” 

He nodded. “You don’t have to keep asking, dal’ika.”

“That’s still not my name,” you said in a singsong voice over your shoulder as you walked up the ramp. He walked over towards some of the denser areas of trees.

You tried to watch him as discreetly as possible through one of the port holes, but you had a suspicion that, somehow, he could tell you were watching. He walked over some of the logs of fallen trees that had piled up towards the edge of the clearing. He picked two large ones, one in each arm, and set them upright. Then, he placed the large stones on the top of and behind them to keep them standing. 

He retreated a few yards, and his hands slid down to his thighs. He brought two blasters back up. Ah, you thought. Target practice. 

As much as you knew you needed to begin your day’s work, you stood at the port hole and watched him fire blast after blast, and you knew he hit each spot he intended to. He moved back farther, fired some more, and then moved off at angles. You never thought you’d be attracted to a man whose face you’d never seen and name you didn’t know, but here you are. 

Finally, you tore your gaze from the beskar-covered man and began your work, getting the tool box from where you’d left it yesterday. 

-

It was noon when you walked down the ramp again. The Mandalorian had finished his shooting hours ago, and had now shed his shin and thigh armor, along with the heavy cannon he carried on his back. He was already looking at you when you stepped into the doorway. 

“Need something, dal’ika?” 

You shook your head. “Lunch time, Mando.” You pulled some kind of bar out of your pocket. “It’s got meiloorun filling,” you brag. 

“Sounds good,” he said, a little amused at what you considered something to brag about. 

You sat down on the rock opposite him. “You want one? I’ve got an extra.”

“No, thank you, dal’ika,” he replied. 

You sunk your teeth into the grain and meiloorun bar, chewed, and swallowed. “What language even is that?”

“Mando’a,” he said. “The language of my people.”

“The Mandalorians?” You ask dumbly.

He let out a chuckle, it was small, but the vocoder processed it. “Yes, dal’ika, but I thought that was obvious.”

“What’s that mean? That word you’re calling me?”

He contemplated for a moment, but finally told you. “Dal’ika means woman in Mando’a. Well, dala means woman. The ‘ika bit just means it's a nickname. It implies that you’re, well, small. It’s used for kids a lot but also for friends.” He regretted saying that, in case you found it insulting or weird. He quickly moved on. “And I definitely consider you more than an acquaintance, especially since we’ll be spending some time together.”

You looked at him. You’d never thought of yourself as small. “Well, that’s good to hear. And I think everyone is small next to you, Mando.”

He laughed again, and you took another bite. “I suppose so. What is your actual name?” You tell him, and he nods. “I can call you that, if you’d like?”

“Dal’ika is fine,” you say. You’d never really had a nickname before. “But you can call me my name, too, if you want.”

“Ok, dal’ika,” he said. “Where are you from?”

You looked at him. Why all the questions? You briefly thought of home, but closed your eyes. “Rather not say.”

He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry that I keep saying the wrong things. I really should know better, considering I don’t like too many questions, either.”

“It’s ok, it’s not like you know what will strike a cord,” you tell him. You hurriedly finished your lunch, eager to get back on the ship in case memories of home flooded back into your mind and tears flooded your eyes. “Well, I’m off,” you say, standing awkwardly and walking back to the ship, leaving the Mando by himself again. 

You sat on the floor of the ship, one of the flooring panels removed, working on some wiring. In the back of your mind you saw your childhood home, the mountain peaks you could see from the backyard, and the neighbor kids that you’d played with every day after school. You remembered leaving. You remembered never being able to go back. 

Your hands are still in the wire compartment in the floor. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and smiled to yourself. Aliria always said smiling makes you feel better. It worked, and your hands began moving again, replacing and connecting wires.

-

Again, it was nightfall when you came out of the ship. The Mandalorian had all his armor on again, and he stood as you emerged. “I should’ve walked you home last night, dal’ika. It was dark when you left, I’m sorry for not offering.”

You felt your heart swell a little. He was a gentle giant, you decided. “Thank you, Mando, but I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s not like there’s dangerous people here.”

“Still,” he insisted. “I should have.”

You gave up and replied, “That would’ve been a kind gesture. I would take you up on the offer tonight, but Aliria lent me her speeder, so I don’t need an escort today.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “Just be careful, dal’ika. Hosnian Prime awaits.” He walked past you and onto the ship, just like he had the night before. 

-

The next day was almost the same, except you had to walk. Aliria needed the speeder for Zenith and supplies he was picking up from a nearby farm, but apart from that, everything was the same. You made small talk with the Mandalorian over your lunch (a star fruit bar today), and  watched him shoot his blasters from afar. You got a lot of work done today, most of the hard stuff was finished and now just needed some tweaking. You moved on to the exterior of the ship a few hours before nightfall. 

“Dal’ika,” he said as you started working on the exterior. “Only do what you absolutely need to on the outside. I’d hate to see your hard work go to waste when I get into another altercation.” 

You nodded, but replied, “I hope you don’t plan on getting into one of your altercations while I’m aboard.”

“Well, I never really plan on them, but I’ll be extra careful if it makes you feel better,” he told you. 

You smiled. “It does.”

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he said.

You nodded, opening one of the exterior panels and examining it. “I know. I just have a few more things,” you assured him. “And then I’ll take you up on your offer to walk me home.” You turned your head towards him and smiled, but what you didn’t know was that your smile brought the slightest blush to his cheeks. 

Paz sat back down on his rock while you worked on the exterior. He thought about the smile you’d given him, how you weren’t afraid of him. There’s something more to this one, he thought. Something’s made her tough, and it wasn’t this village.

Finally, you finished. “Alright,” you told the Mando as you exited the ship after putting the tools up. “It should fly, but we can test that tomorrow. For now, I need to go home.”

He nodded and stood from the rock. “Lead the way, mechanic,” he said. 

You walked a pace or two in front of him, even though he didn’t really need to be led to the town. It wasn’t like there were many of those around here, but he let you, and you rambled about the place with pride. About Aliria with pride. 

After a few beats of silence, he spoke up. “May I ask what’s on Hosnian Prime? If you don’t want to answer, just tell me.”

“An old friend,” you said and looked back at him again. This smile was different, he noticed, but he wasn’t sure how. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, but I know she still cares.” You were telling him the truth, so why did you feel like you were lying? He didn’t need to know that General Organa was the friend or why you knew her. But you almost wanted him to know. Still, you held back. 

“Oh,” he said. “Sounds nice. I’ve heard good things about Hosnian Prime.” Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything about Hosnian Prime except that it was the new capital of the New Republic. 

“I have, too,” you agreed. “What about you? What’s on Yavin IV?”

“Family,” he said. He was telling the truth, so why did he feel like he was lying? And why was he trusting you with the planet of the covert? 

You nodded. “I figured, with all the baby stuff you bought. Is your wife a Mandalorian, too? I heard Mandos can only marry Mandos.”

He was shocked a little, forgetting that you didn’t know much about his culture. “No, I don’t have a wife. Or kids of my own. My Tribe is my family, and there are kids in the Tribe. They’re just not mine.”

“Oh, interesting,” you said, kicking a rock in front of you. You were surprised to find yourself relieved that he did not have a wife. “So, like, can you only marry inside your tribe?”

“No, dal’ika,” he laughed. “We’d end up with some interesting children if we kept it in the tribe. Some people marry within the tribe, some never marry, and others marry outsiders.” He didn’t really know how accurate his answer was. Maybe, in big tribes, people did just marry in the tribe. But the covert he belonged to was too small for that. 

You kicked the rock again as you arrived at the place it had landed. “Huh,” you said. “Guess I never thought about that.” 

“We prefer people not think about us at all,” he replied. His tone was solemn when he said this, and you instinctively placed a hand on his armored arm to comfort him. The Mandalorian was brought to a blush under his helmet again. Maker, he thought. How’s she doing this to me?

You walked into the town in comfortable silence, your arm now wrapped around his, fingers lightly rubbing the armor. It was meant as a soothing technique, but you doubt he could feel it under the layers of metal and cloth. Eventually, you neared your home. “That one’s mine,” you pointed. The house’s door was painted blue, and your flowerbed was filled with blue flowers. 

“Your house matches my armor, kebiin’ika,” he said.

A new nickname. “What’s that mean?”

“Kebiin is blue. And, you know, ‘ika is ‘small’ and an endearment.” 

“Little blue?” You ask.

He nodded. “Ding, ding, ding,” he said. “You’d pick up Mando’a quickly, I think.” You smiled at him, you spoke Basic and Huttese already, why not learn a third? He smiled back, though all you could see was metal and visor. “Are we leaving tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I think that’d be good. Tomorrow after lunch, maybe? I’ve got to pack up my stuff and say good-bye to everyone.” He nodded. He’d forgotten that you’re leaving your life behind. “I don’t have much stuff, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

He chuckled again. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t worry. We’d find the space.” There was a warmth in his voice that made your whole body warm. You could tell he cared about the people close to him deeply if he cared about a stranger like this.

You unlocked your door and stepped inside. You weren’t expecting a good night, as you had no reason to, but you did stop yourself from closing the door all the way.

You looked up at him through the half-open blue door. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “For walking me home. It’s very kind.”

“You deserve kindness, Y/N,” he replies, as if it was painfully obvious. Then, you realized he said your name. Your real name, not some Mandalorian nickname. 

You smiled again, your lips were beginning to hurt but your face wouldn’t let you stop. “Will I ever get to know your name, Mando?”

“Someday.”

[vagrantblvrd]

Obi-Wan raises Luke instead of Owen and Beru, please.

Oooh, nice.

Because I am That Person I want to do the Satine lives AU (I haven’t finished Clone  Wars yet, but one of my friends has Strong Opinions about similar AUs).

Obi-Wan doesn’t leave the Jedi Order to be with her,because Duty, and all that with the war, but perhaps once the war is over he can?

But then Anakin falls to the Dark Side and it’s decided to separate the twins. Leia goes to Bail and Breha, and Obi-Wan is supposed to take Luke to Tatooine to be raised by his aunt and uncle, but.

Obi-Wan’s in his ship leaving Coruscant after losing Anakin the way he did and it isn’t a conscious decision really, that has him putting in the coordinates for Mandlore, doesn’t even register until his droid is like ??? and he sees what he’s done, and has this moment of oh, I didn’t mean to do that, did I?

He means to fix it, input the coordinates for Tatooine, a weavin winding path in case he’s followed, but stops to think about it.

It makes sense to take Luke there, no one would think to look for him, but the thought of leaving Luke, one of the last pieces of Anakin left to him to be raised by people who wouldn’t understand him leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth.

Regret, guilt, for failing Anakin so completely, and it’s like. Anakin has ties to Tatooine that someone smart enough might look into, might find Luke, but Mandalore? That complicated mess is all Obi-Wan’s now.

And it’s selfish, he’s being selfish, not wanting to give Luke up, thinks about the Order and attachments, but look where it got them in the end, you know? (His foundations have been rocked, shattered beneath his feet but if he thinks on it there were cracks, fault-lines long before that.)

So.

He calculates s winding, weaving course to Mandalore and goes to Satine where they raise Luke as their foundling, right?

They keep the whole...Jedi thing on the down-low, because ancient enemies but Obi-Wan and Satine’s inner circle know, because how couldn’t they?

Obi-Wan may go by a different name these days, but it’s close enough to his real name it wouldn’t take much thought to connect the two. Also, his face???

And Luke okay. Obi-Wan teaches him to control his Jedi abilities and such from an early age, but he couches it in games and play and all Mr. Miyagi with his wax on, wax off schtick kid of deal to keep Luke from accidentally giving away the fact he’s strong in the Force and so on.)

Meanwhile there’s an effort to dial back the animosity towards the Jedi, which meets with mixed results, because people. Also, also, over the years Obi-Wan encourages Satine to mend the rift between her followers and those exiled to Concordia.

Also, with mixed results, but with the Empire’s numbers growing it seems like a mistake to allow Mandalore to be divided.

They reach some kind of understanding, not entirely reconciled, but better than things were before.

In another meanwhile, Luke is being raised as a Mandalorian, and like Obi-Wan earns a set of armor.

But then!

The Purge happens, and in the chaos Luke is separated from Obi-Wan and Satine, the other Mandalorians.

He has his armor and a ship and the lightsaber that belonged to his father Obi-Wan shoved into his hands before they were separated.

Has to hide from the Empire because one thing Obi-Wan made sure he knew from a young age is that he couldn’t all ow himself to be captured by them, that they’d be looking for him.

(And on some lonely nights after the Purge when his nightmares seem more real than usual, some part of him wonders if the Purge happened because Mandalore refused to join with the Empire, or if someone found out about him?)

Anyway.

Mandalorians and the reputation for being fierce fighters and skilled bounty hunters and Luke is truly alone for the first time in his life. Little money to his name and his ship can only get so far before it runs out of fuel, and he needs ammunition and food to eat, and it’s just.

He finds work s a bounty hunter, and the first few bounties are part of a learning process. Thank goodness for his armor or he’d have been dead dozen times over the first month.

Still.

He’s been raised as a Mandalorian his whole life, maybe saw himself as an outsider because his Force abilities and the secrets Obi-Wan kept even from him, but he’s been training as a warrior his whole life.

(Pacifists, yes, but the galaxy is a dangerous place and perhaps more so for someone like Luke, so.)

Between the regular weapons and hand-to-hand and whatnot and Obi-Wan’s instruction with his Force abilities and his father’s lightsaber he’s quite the dangerous individual.

He keeps running into this Corellian smuggler and his Wookie co-pilot, and sometimes he turns a blind eye to their antics if he’s tracking someone else. (In return Han’s willing to let information slip to Luke, for the price of a drink or a meal, and of course he’d never say no to an outright gift of credits, so.)

There’s a miscommunication on a job, once. Luke after a bail jumper and this other Mandalorian with a silver helmet who wants the pilot Luke’s bounty hired.

There’s a bit of a fight, nothing serious before it occurs to Luke that the aforementioned pilot looked a little too panicky at the sight of the other Mandalorian to be fully innocent. (Also, it’s Mos Eisley. Innocent people are exceedingly rare here.)

It’s the first time Luke’s worked with another Mandalorian on a bounty, and it’s actually kind of nice. (Although he suspects the other Mandalorian may have ties to The Tribe, but it’s the least of his problems at the moment and the man makes for good company.)

Anyway, anyway, at some point Luke runs into Ahsoka - and he knows her. Obi-Wan and his secrets and she’s safe, she can help him.

At first she’s reluctant, because look what happened to Anakin, what if she’s resposnsible for the same happening to Luke? But he finds a way to convince her - stubborn like Anakin, if not worse - and she takes up his training where Obi-Wan left off.

She’ll lave from time to time because Rebellion shenaigans, and sometimes Luke goes along to help.

And then word through Luke or Ahsoka’s contacts about Leia being taken prisoner and important plans and they’re so far out they might not make it in time.

“I know someone who might help?” Luke offers, because he and Han are hardly friends (they kind of are though), and the Falcon is one of the fastest ships out there even if she doesn’t look like it.

So, side trip to Tatooine and Han is just “Oh, come on, you too? What is with today?” because Greedo and Luke being a bounty hunter and Ahsoka is super unimpressed.

Once Luke explains what he needs, Han is like “NO,” but Luke convinces him and Han reluctantly agrees (but then Jabba and that whole mess and it’s kind of a disaster getting off Tatooine but they make it so everything’s fine.

Before they leave though, there’s this weird hermit they run into and emotional reunions because Obi-Wan and he thought Luke was dead and what has he been doing? Also it’s very nice to see you again, Ahsoka, you look well.

Luke going up to the cockpit to give them privacy for their part of the reunion and sharing information and all that.

And then rescuing Leia and Luke in his beskar getting between Obi-Wan and Vader even though both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are incredibly not happy about that, but some people there were just going to let the sith lord kill them, and Luke is just how about no???

(Satine would never forgive Obi-Wan something like that Luke’s sure, and according to Obi-Wan she’s back on Tatooine still, so.)

Leia gets rescued and the Rebellion’s down a few pilots and oh, hey, Luke’s kind of not bad at that whole deal?

Obi-Wan’s needed as a strategist - and honestly, no one wants him out of sight after the whole thing on the Death Star - and Ahsoka with her Rebellion Thing.

Han comes back to save Luke’s life and Luke destroys the Death Star and happy ending for now?

But Luke knows there’s something about Vader and Luke himself that has Obi-Wan and Ahsoka deeply worried. (When he thinks about it there are a few reasons why that might be, but he does his best not to dwell on it.)

Anyway.

The usual Star Wars shenanigans but with Mandalorian!Luke with his armor and whatnot.

Confrontations between Luke and Vader go a little differently because of Luke’s armor? But the hand thing still happens because parallels or some nonsense, idk.

(Anakin’s not the only one who has to remove their helmet on the second Death Star and so on.)

Leia has mixed feelings about the whole Boba Fett putting Han in carbonite because Luke’s used the same method on some of his bounties in the past. (The violent dangerous ones that posed a risk to him transporting them the guild, though, but it doesn’t matter to Leia at the time.)

After the destruction of the second Death Star there’s talk, idle, unsure about forming a school to teach the next generation of Jedi?

Because Force-sensitive kids and there must be a better way, a balance between the ole Jedi Order and a new one.

Until then, Luke is curious about the whole Jedi thing, goes looking for relics and whatnot. (Maybe does some bounty hunting every so often, because why not.)

Satine wants to go back to Mandalore, help her people if she can and Obi-Wan goes with her because not a lot of reason to stick around Tatooine otherwise.

And then!

This call for help through the Force and Luke following it to an Imperial light cruiser and Din being very, very confused at seeing a Mandalorian with a lightsaber?

Is it like Bo-Katan’s Darksaber? Will one of them have to change? So confused. (Also though, possible concussion from his fight with the Dark Trooper, but yes.)

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asks, feeling that it’s a valid question because Mandalorians and Jedis and ancient enemies????

And yet.

Luke is like, hey, it’s you! Because silver helmet and remember that time we got into a fight on Tatooine? But also, also, hello Aunt Bo-Katan and friends.

Mainly though, Grogu who is kind of losing his tiny little mind because Mandalorian? But also Jedi? But Mandalorian???

And then shenanigans in which Luke is like, huh, about the Darksaber and poor Din who wants nothing to do with it. His adopted mother who wants to help her people but afraid they won’t listen to her after what the Empire’s done them and is like.

Strangely convenient, but he’ll take it.

They stop by the closest New Republic planet or outpost to hand Gideon and whatever other Imperials are still on board over and then head to Mandalore.

Din is still so very confused, but it doesn’t seem like Luke plans to take Grogu away and he’ll take what he can get. (So sure Luke will take Grogu far away at some point, but tries not to think too hard about that.)

And then the whole working at calling Mandalorians home - Din is super unsure about being the new ruler of Mandalore, but once Bo-Katan and Satine have a chat about the fure of their world they’re like, “He’s perfect for the role.”

Just needs a little help, and with them and Obi-Wan and other trusted people to help him, something great could come of it.

Luke stays on Mandalore - his home more than anywhere else in the galaxy - and he and Obi-Wan train Grogu. Ahsoka too, when she visits.

Once Mandalore and its people are more settled there’s talk of joining the New Republic, right?

Leia as the New Republic’s representative, and Obi-Wan one of Din’s advisors, negotiators and it seems as though good things will happen there too.

But!

Also!

Luke who grew up on Mandalore helping introduce Din to it? Teach him about this world he’s never seen, but is important in its own way more than ever now.

And little Grogu and all that.

Keldabe kisses in a courtyard on a night when Luke’s meditating outside, Din restless after tucking Grogu in and happens across Luke.

Understands that Luke doesn’t follow the Creed the way Din does, but he was raised as a Mandalorian and Din’s seen him in his helmet more often than not and anyway.

Luke meditating in the moonlight and while Din was worried he might have interrupted, Luke opens his eyes and smiles, something about it drawing Din closer.

And it’s.

There’s been so much Pining, but this is Luke, and anyway, keldabe kisses, and Luke laughing at Din being so flustered by it, but Luke’s laughter is shaky, breathless and really, the man’s a hypocrite.

Still, the two of them stay like that for a little while longer.

[kyberphilosopher]

Yᴏᴜʀ Qᴜᴇʀᴇɴᴄɪᴀ

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I just want you to be happy.”

Word Count: 2407

Requested: yes, by a drunk anon. they wanted rex to be happy for more than 5 minutes, so this is what i came up with. might go back and edit some more, but to be honest i’m sick of looking at the english language at this point. i hope you like it. 

a/n. heavy allusions to sex. 

Querencia. (N.)... a place where one feels safe, a place from which one’s strength of character is drawn.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He had slept with you. He knew that for certain.

Bodies close together, he could remember the heat from it all so clearly. Heat from you, heat from him, heat from the both of you. He could close is his eyes and remember the thin layer of sweat earned from working at you. Rex hadn’t minded the work, though. In fact, he enjoyed it. He reveled in knowing you had enjoyed it as well.

During the act, Rex swore to himself he’d commit every millisecond to memory. He promised he’d think back on your warmth in hard times of battle, that he’d even attempt to see it in dreams. It was just so nice. Better than he’d been able to fathom. But he couldn’t remember if he’d been able to last one long round (which was the more unlikely option), or if he’d gone multiple, short rounds. The sensations were too intense, the arousal too heavy for him to have managed to last the time that it did- but he couldn’t remember.

You’d served together many times, and at no point has Rex heard the noises he’d been able to coax from you. He’d idolized you for your remarkable, Jedi mind. You’d led him and his men to victory on several occasions- sometimes with General Skywalker, sometimes all on your own. It hadn’t been til the Captain happened to look over at you during your first battle together, and immediately desired you.

The way you handled your lightsabers... the fluidity of your movements... Rex found it to be beautiful. He’d seen it before in other Jedi, but this was different. You were... you. And you had made the man restless with lust, overtaken with infatuation and adoration alike. Therefor Rex had fallen into either love or something like it with you, and after a rather annebriated night, he’d gotten what he wanted.

Neither of you were drunk enough to be out of your mind. Rex would never have allowed himself to take advantage of your state, but he was just as tipsy as you were. You’d spent the majority of the time together giggling and telling stories in some neon lighted Coruscant cantina to celebrate a recent victory. General Skywalker had made a rather hollow excuse to slip away to Padmé. Obi-Wan declined the offer and chosen to rest instead. The majority of the 501st had spread itself thin across the planet in search of fun. This left Rex alone with you, General Koon, and a few other soldiers.

Had Rex laughed at your joke first, or had you laughed at his? The liquor had made you feel warm and giddy, and it hadn’t taken awhile before he had held your stare for a little too long. With a few more lines of dialogue exchanged, you’d invited Rex back to your quarters.

“I’ve a few strategies I’d love to talk over with you,” you’d told him. “Just back in the Temple. Come on.”

Rex didn’t need to be told twice. Even if he had wanted to stop himself from following you and your sweet aroma, he couldn’t have. It was too enticing to turn down being alone with you. Jesse had smiled knowingly at him as he left, which somewhat spurred Rex on.

One thing led to another. Rex could only remember how hot you had felt, but not how it had started. He’d worry about recounting that part of his memory later. For the time, he’d focused on melting into you and you alone.

Eventually, the both of you tired out. The Captain would’ve kept going if not for your exhaustion, but he was quick and deciding to let you rest. He followed after you not long after.

In the night, the man woke up out of a sudden fear that it had all been a dream. He bolted upright, skin still glistening from the earlier acts. They’d only been committed approximately three hours ago at this point, but he had to be sure. He knew in the morning you would be gone, but if he could keep you from slipping away now, he would.

The Captain looked over at you. Your hair was spread out across the pillow as your cheek pressed to it. Your lips were parted slightly as you breathed in and out, complimenting the pink dust on your cheeks from the past alcohol and sweat. Your bare back was facing the ceiling, palms lazily spread out as your legs only further tangled themselves in the sheets.

Rex thought you were beautiful, even with a half alarmed, half asleep brain. The acts you had shared had been as true as they come, and so the man knew that for certain. The back of his mind was shouting that it was worse for it to be real- you were a Jedi! You were forbidden from any forms of intimacy! Oh Maker, had he been your first? On top of it all, you were his superior! The level of inappropriateness was insurmountable!

But the Clone decided he’d deal with it at morning. Slowly, as not to wake your divine form, he scooted closer to you. His right hand reached out to pull you towards him with a bit of a roll. Then you collapsed against his broad chest easily, still soundly snoozing away.

Rex kept his arm around you firm. While you were out cold, the city system was wide awake and bustling, and Rex let the distant sounds of wind and speeders alike lull him back into a similar state of sleep.

The man was right, though. You weren’t there when he woke up.

The arm that was so tight around you in sleep was now limp on the bed. He had gone to squeeze it to make sure you hadn’t been taken, only to find air and sheets in your place. 

The man’s golden eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the particles of dust he could see in the rising sunlight. Your suite was quiet, and the glass of the window behind him blocked out the noise of the world. Rex rather appreciated things that were soundproof, because sometimes if he closed his eyes for too long, he would remember the noisiness of war. 

Your bed was the most comfortable he had ever slept on. Back on Kamino, he and his brothers grew accustomed to sleeping in pods. During times of active duty, he spends most of his nights in a cot, on the floor, or on a slab. But your mattress was firm but soft, able to work out the knots of his back with no trouble at all. The deep red sheets were smooth as silk, with plenty of soft pillows to nestle your head into. Though now, all but two pillows were strewn across the floor. 

Rex sat himself up. He took the right side, you took the left. His head rolled over the window that was previously given a view of his back. Floor to ceiling, stretching from wall corner to wall corner. Being an important figure in the Republic certainly had it’s perks, it seemed. Yours was the view. Skyscrapers climbed higher and higher the farther he looked, and all sorts of transports zipped and zapped as they tried to beat the growing sun. The light cast orange shadows into the room, and made Rex’s eyes appear golden. 

But despite all this, Rex couldn’t relax. Your leaving before he woke up meant something. It meant you thought the night was a mistake. It meant you didn’t want to see him again. Rex was right for holding you as tightly as he did. At least because of that, he knew it was real. 

If you came back to your room, would you throw him out? Would you yell at him? Accuse him of taking advantage of your tipsy state? It was foolish of him to assume he would come close to any semblance, of happiness, wasn’t it? Last night was the closest thing he would ever get, but of course nothing gold can stay. 

You would be furious. This makes the Captain sigh and sink further against the board. Of all the foolish people he’d come across- clankers, seppies, fellow brothers- he was the biggest fool of them all.

Silently and slowly, you appear before him. Just at the other end of the room, by a doorway that led to your bathroom. A cream color towel was draped around your form, but it didn’t matter. Rex had already committed you to memory. He could see the dark bruises he’d been nervous about marking you with across your breasts, up your collarbones, and trailing around your neck. The sunlight hadn’t reached you yet, but if it did, you would’ve been just as golden as the Captain’s irises. 

“Good morning,” he said with disbelief. His eyes were wide- shocked you were here still. He was glad for it, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be kicked out. His lips were beginning to feel more dry and chapped as his anxiety grew. 

You didn’t look furious. “Good morning, Captain,” you said calmly. A shadow of a smile danced on your lips calmly. “I just went to shower. You were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh,” Rex said, eyes still wide. “Oh. Right.”

You hold his gaze a second longer before starting towards the window. Your feet patter against your floor. Skin becomes lightened in the sun so you appear to be glowing. Rex can partially see your back, and get a glimpse of a mark he had made on your shoulder blade. He could faintly remember giving that one, but the memory was hot and blurred together by sweat. 

You were looking out the window. Observing the metropolitan city before you. Your intelligent eyes were flitting everywhere, working a click a minute. “Do you want breakfast?” you asked, eyes not shifting over to the man until your sentence was done. “We can go out to a diner near here, or I can make something. Not a very good cook, though.”

What? What was this? No yelling. No noticeable anger. You hadn’t immediately told him to leave. You hadn’t woken him up to shout. You were instead asking if the man wanted to stay a while longer with you. This must’ve been a dream. Perhaps Rex had been mistaken, and it actually wasn’t real. 

“I don’t understand,” he said aloud. 

You flash a quick smirk at him calmly, exhaling as though it were obvious. “Well you must be hungry,” you said. “And I have the credits.”

“You’re not going... to make me leave?”

You turn to him fully. Your eyebrows furrow together softly in a sort of confusion. “Now why would I make you do that?”

Rex’s heart gives a sudden pound. He feels something catch in his throat and his skin grow hot. In contrast, his veins feel cold as ice. 

“Rex,” you say softly, almost like a whisper. Your eyes glow, skin covered in all the hickeys he had given on you. “I don’t want you to go.” Then the hand clutching the towel to you tightens and clenches around the knuckles. “Unless you want to go.”

“No,” he says immediately. He sits up straighter, rustling the sheet draped over his legs. Rex’s body is perked up in alarm now, anything to prove your words wrong. “I just thought that you would think last night was a mistake.”

“I don’t think it was a mistake. Do you think last night was a mistake?”

Maker, the way you look at him. “No,” Rex says, completely entranced. “No, General. I don’t think last night was a mistake.”

Your lips curve into a smile. Your eyes are shining. Rex has been a lot of places in his life, with a lot of people. Nothing and no one compares to how beautiful you look right at this moment. Not even the radiating sun or the distant, blinking neon lights. 

The hand around your towel loosens enough to make the cloth slip from you. It falls to the floor in a puddle by your feet. 

You’re naked again. You’re naked in front of a giant window so anyone flying by could see, but Rex is the only one of them who really matters. He’s important to you. Rex isn’t just a Clone, or a soldier, or the best Captain in the world. He’s not a master of blasters, a drinking buddy, or even a one night stand. He’s a friend, a companion, a lover, even. 

He’s taken aback by the revelation. How many people in his life had told him that he hadn’t mattered in the slightest? How many people had made him feel that way? You weren’t one of them. This made Rex feel something more than happiness, which was a bit of a big step for the man. He may have never felt happiness for this long in his entire life. 

He deserves it. 

Rex climbs out of bed peacefully, not daring to lose eye contact with you. He’s naked too, but all he can think about is you. It’s real. There’s no competition, no way of changing his mind. The normal, raging and torn up storm in his chest is completely obliterated. Replaced instead by something much more calm and welcoming and loving. It’s odd and new to him, but Rex wants to get used to it. 

He holds you tight. Not as tight as all those hours ago- there’s no need to now. He knows you won’t disappear because he has your word. Your hands snake around his back, raking over the shadows of scratch marks you’d left the previous night. His thumb smooths over the bruise on your shoulder blade. 

He’s taller than you, so it’s easy to rest your head against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat, and he can feel yours. If you stayed like this long enough, they would sync up rather quickly, giving the truthful illusion that they were the same. 

So you stood there together, in front of all of Coruscant to see, holding each other tightly as your naked forms melted together, for the second time. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I finished this one quickly, but the english in it was difficult for me. Why is sink and sync spelled differently...? Whatever. Reader has a fire pussy. 

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​ @haztory​ @chokemeanakin​ @fanficsforheartandsoul​ @anakinswhore​ @.drunkanon :) is that everyone?

[gondowan]

Over Your Shoulder

Pairing: Paz Viszla x f!Reader

You're used to working for others. As a freelance armstech, you flit from contract to contract, never staying too long in one place. Although the freelancer life is fun, you kind of wish you could trade it all for a little bit of stability. As the maker would have it, that stability shows up in the form of one (1) Paz Viszla.

Tags/Warnings: nothing right now, but future loving degradation, Good Communication Is My Kink, daddy kink, and other sexy consensual shenangians. Reader has slight self esteem issues.

Notes: I haven’t written for fun in forever, but new year new me! If you know me in real life never bring this up because I will combust lol. I was going to fire off a brief smutty one-shot pwp thing but of course I couldn’t resist adding ~ b a c k s t o r y ~ so here you go. Subsequent updates will probably just be pwp.

Chapter 1: All The Grass is Greener Everywhere You Look

Nervousness, you assumed, was a regular feeling for anyone who was newly married. Doubly so for the new spouse of a Mandalorian. Unlike the rest of the galaxy where marriage vows were somewhat loose, Mandalorians took their vows very seriously. Forever, generally meant, forever.

Your relationship with Paz Viszla was strange in and of itself. As a freelance armstech, you hopped from planet to planet offering your repair services, never staying in any one place for too long. While on Bothawui, you had let slip to a client that you were headed to Nevarro next. Greef Karga, the head of the Guild, had put you on a retainer for services to guild members for a few cycles. The pay was good, and he had promised you a steady supply of commissions from the local bounty hunters who frequented Nevarro in need of new weapons and repairs on top of the already nice stipend.

The Bothan, a short humanoid by the name of Eesk, perked up when you mentioned Nevarro, and the next day he came over as you were on your way to the spaceport.

“Can I ask a favor? Do you mind making a delivery for me while on Nevarro?” he asked, pulling a datapad out from his robes.

You looked up, eyes narrowing. Bothans were famous for their information network, and were instrumental to the destruction of the first Death Star, but still, you were understandably nervous. “ Eesk, I’m not interested in looking for trouble. I don’t need the New Republic or any Imp remnant breathing down my neck for delivering that for you,” you said.

Eesk laughed, “Relax, I promise you this isn’t serious. Just deliver this to a Mandalorian on Nevarro. It’s nothing classified, I’m just returning a favor for a friend,”. He slid over a stack of credits. “I’d take it to him myself, but unfortunately I’m held up on New Republic business”.

You reached over and tucked the datapad into your bag along with the credits, “Fine, but you owe me”.

“Next time you’re here, drinks on me.” he said as he walked away.

It was only until you had boarded the transport ship that you realized Eesk had never actually told you were to meet this Mandalorian. ‘Oh well,’ you thought, ‘he’s not getting these credits back’. You leaned your head against the wall of the ship, tired from hauling all of your luggage to the spaceport, and fell asleep.

You were three standard weeks into your contract with Greef Karga and the Guild, and still no Mandalorian had shown up to collect the datapad. It was nice to be somewhat settled in one place for longer than a week, and you had enjoyed the steady stream of work. You had also learned from Karga that the Mandalorian covert scattered from Nevarro, and he hadn’t seen one in a while. For all of their information trafficking and spy network, perhaps Eesk had gotten it wrong for once, and you didn’t really care to ask. After all, it would be nigh impossible to miss a person wearing head to toe armor, especially on Nevarro.

One morning, as you had returned from your walk to the lava plains, you discovered the door to your apartment was unlocked. Strange. Not a good sign. None of your alarms were triggered either. Carefully, you pulled your blaster out its holster before quietly pushing the door open.

“There you are. Been looking all over for you.”

A large man, clad in blue armor and covered in more weapons per square inch that any other being you had ever seen, sat next to your workstation. Despite the blaster pointed at him, he seemed unperturbed, posture open and relaxed.

“What do you want?” you asked, blaster raised, "You picked the wrong house to rob,". You had fended off your fair share of robberies, the expensive equipment you lugged around as an armstech was attractive to petty thieves, and not cheap.

“The datapad.” he said.

“I take it you’re the Mandalorian that Eesk spoke about.”

“Correct,”.

You rummage through your toolkit and dust off the datapad. “Here you go Mr. Mandalorian, although I suggest next time you knock during business hours. Breaking and entering is reserved for long term partners, and you haven’t even bought me a drink yet”. You wince a little inwardly, maybe this dry spell was affecting you more than you thought.

You tap the edge of the datapad on the Mandalorian’s chest plate. “Oh and you might want to get the blaster strapped to your thigh checked, those scorch marks are usually a bad sign,”.

The blue hunk of armor stood up and took the datapad from you. “Thank you for this,” he rumbled before heading out the door.

“Ah, so you do have manners,” you teased before moving to shut the door.

You can’t see the expression on his face, but you hear the huff of a laugh through his modulator accompanied with a shake of his shoulders.

You were pretty sure you’d never see him again.

Wrong.

The next day right as you returned from dropping off a box of repaired pistols, there he was again, blue armor and blank expressionless helmet, sitting in the same spot next to your workstation.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a second, before remembering the comment you made yesterday. “I can take a look,”. You cross over to your workstation, turning on the light and the magnifying glass and grabbing your toolkit. It was an easy but time-consuming fix, and you quickly busied yourself with disassembling the rifle.

“You’re not from Nevarro,”. A question, posed as a statement.

You didn’t look up, “Nope, I’m just passing through.” Hmm, that power cell did not look too good.

“Where is home for you?”

“Nowhere,” you said matter-of-factly as you tinkered away, “Like most people, the Clone Wars and the Empire destroyed what little of a childhood I had. Got taken in by a kind armstech who taught me the trade, and now I hop from planet to planet making a living. What about you? I heard about what happened to the Mandalorians on this planet,”.

“Also nowhere,” the man grunted, and he remained quiet. You finished your work, and handed him the blaster, butt end first.

“You owe me two drinks now, breaking into my place like that.”

He took the blaster from you, two gloved finger tips drawing a line from the middle of your forearm down your wrist. An unnecessary movement, he could’ve just taken the blaster. You gulped. He put the gun back in its holster and leaned forward.

“I might, if you ask nicely. I saw the way you sized me up the first time,”.

You swallowed, mouth going dry. “It’s uh, part of my line of work. Gotta make sure everyone’s packing-- I mean, everyone’s weapons are in tip top shape.” Your stupid lizard brain, at it again.

He cocked his head to the side, “I’m sure it is,” the mirth evident in his tone.

Every evening thereafter, the blue Mandalorian showed up at your doorstep, a new weapon in hand for you to look at. It was nice, you had to admit to yourself. A consistency in your otherwise inconsistent life, and you grew to enjoy his company. What you couldn’t handle however, was the escalating tension between the two of you. He would occasionally stand behind you, his big, all-encompassing frame brushing up against your back, and lean over you to ask about this or that. The first time you thought it was an accident, but then he followed up with an oh-so-casual touch of your wrist, and you were pretty sure it was on purpose, but you also couldn’t tell if that was wishful thinking on your part. Occasionally the two of you would strike up a conversation, but for the most part he sat in a comfortable silence while you worked. When he came over the fourth night, large gattling gun in tow, you decided it was high time to try to get to know him better.

“Uh...would you like to stay for dinner?”, eyes looking down on the (ancient) gattling gun, trying to keep your voice light.

He paused and shook his head “I can’t,”.

Oh, an immediate shut down. Great. Well it was worth a shot.

“Not for the reason you think. I can’t remove my helmet in the presence of others, that’s part of the creed,”.

That made a lot of sense. You hadn’t come across many Mandalorians in your travels, but all of them were rather cagey about their armor and helmet. You had assumed it was due to the value of beskar, but this was the first time you had heard about this creed.

You looked up at him. “Don’t you ever get lonely?” you blurted out, the words forming on your tongue before your brain could shut you down. “Nevermind-- I’m sorry I-”

He interjected, “Sometimes. There are some exceptions though,”.

You leaned forward. “Such as?”.

A pause. He stepped forward, tipping your chin up with a finger.

“ Would you care to find out?”

Ch 2 here

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 23

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

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Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

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Stopping in front of a medical clinic, Fives took a deep breath as he knocked on the door. Yara still clung to his back as Tup was thankfully breathing through his ventilators, though time was not on their side. A tall man in a lab coat and glasses answered the door, glancing at the three of them. “Do you need anything, clone?”

“I need your help,” pleased Fives. “My brother is dying and my sister had a head concussion. Could you do anything to save both of them?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t serve your kind here,” the male doctor said, as he shut the door in front of their face.

He let out a sigh and continued down the streets, searching for another clinic that would help them. With no credits or chain codes with them, Fives would have no other choice but to ask every health facility he could find to help Tup and Yara.

Yara held her head as she glanced at the street vendors from both corners, who were known for their simple yet scrumptious meal. A Zygerrian woman with sunhat was brewing ice-cold bubble tea for her younger customer, adding a big spoonful of brown sugar syrup for him.

She licked her lips as she turned to the Devaronian man in an apron, who was deep-frying nunas in oil and while sprinkling some hot sauce on fried rice rolls. Her stomach grumbled as she stared at the freshly cooked meal. It’s been hours since she had her last ration stick at base.

Fives noticed Yara looking at the street vendors and gave a pat on her hand. “It’s gonna be alright, vod. I will find someone to treat you and Tup and it will all be over soon, I promise.”

“I don’t think they like clones,” she whined, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I think Tup is going to die, Fives. It would be too late by the time we got help.”

“Don’t say that, Yara, please. Tup will be okay. I promise, we’re going to get help for you and Tup.”

She could only nod as Fives found another clinic by the traditional drugstore, prompting him to have a knock. “Is anyone in there?”

There was no answer. The ARC Trooper gave another knock, only this time, the tenant inside responded by yelling at them. “Fuck off! You’re not welcomed here!”

“Please, Dr. My brother is dying and my sister is having concussions. They will die if they don’t get treated.”

“Don’t you understand Basic? I said, fuck off!”

“What an asshat,” Yara cursed underneath, making her brother snicker. “For someone who went to medical school, he sure needs a lot of work in his down under.”

“Oh, so it’s okay if you make a dick joke?” Fives rolled his eyes. “But somehow, when I make a dick joke, you complain about it? Make it make sense, goddamit!”

“You make a dick joke when we’re in the middle of the mission, plus, your dick joke sucks.”

“Well, you don’t have a penis, so what makes you think your dick jokes are better than mine?”

“Fuck you,” she slapped his cheeks. “I’m ten times smarter than you.”

“Just be grateful that I’m carrying you right now. You could have been walking on your two feet but no, you broke your left arm and you hit your head, and I don’t want you to break any more bones in your body.”

Before Yara could respond, an elderly Togruta woman stepped out of the drugstore, eyeing both of them bickering with each other. She noticed an unconscious Tup strapped on his gurney and clicked her tongue in pity for the clones.

“Um...excuse me,” she called them, waving her hand. “But is he okay?”

Fives turned to Tup, before making eye contact with the purple Togruta and bobbed his head. “My brother’s dying, and my sister’s injured. Could you please help us? They might die if I do nothing.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot help you with your problems,” the old lady shook her head. “But I know someone who will. Her name is Dr. Tiana Urakchaevy. She’s one of the best doctors in town and she will help you and your siblings.”

“Does she accept clone troopers?”

“Dr. Urakchaevy’s clinic is right at the corner, and she will treat anybody, regardless of your species and background.”

“Where’s her clinic?”

“Dr. Urakchaevy’s clinic is right at the corner,” she pointed with her thumbs. “It’s the ones with flowers.”

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” Fives smiled, shaking her hands. “You are a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” the old lady replied as she placed a bottle of ointment on his palm. “Here, take this. This will be useful for your sister.”

He gave her a respectful salute as he journeyed through town, passing by every shop lot along the way. Unlike Kamino, the buildings were painted with myriads of colours, from red to orange, and even mint green. Fives watched the shop owners having an animated conversation with each other, making him think of his brothers and sisters back home.

“You know, Yara, when you and Tup are feeling better, we’ll be drinking together in no time,” he promised, sticking out his pinky. “I know you love cognac, and Tup loves a glass of Shirley Temple, so I’ll pay the tab for the both of you, alright?”

“And then what?” Yara grumbled.

“And then you both can do whatever you want. I’ll let you and Tup choose this time. We can do anything you both wanted to do, like watching that rom-com movie or have a bingo night. I know how much you blush at the male lead in a rom-com.”

“It’s not my fault they’re handsome as hell,” she poked his face. “If they were real, I wouldn’t hesitate to climb them like a tree.”

Fives snorted before clearing his throat. “Well, good luck with that. I bet they would cringe at your dick jokes.”

“Fuck you!”

Rolling his eyes, he held onto Yara and Tup as he arrived at the corner of the town and found a small, humble clinic in front of him. It was a double-storey shop, with magenta bougainvilleas grown in pots, and several pairs of shoes arranged neatly on a shoe rack.

I hope this one is friendly, Fives prayed, as he rang the doorbell. As he looked at his surroundings, the front door opened, revealing a dark-haired woman with dark skin and a yellow sundress, and was holding a bowl of cookie dough and a wooden spoon.

“Good afternoon,” she chirped. “You must be one of Tiana’s patients.”

“Yeah, the old lady by the drugstore sent us here. She told me that Dr. Urakchaevy could help my brother and sister.”

“Well, you can come in and have tea with us,” she invited them inside. “My wife will be with you in a short while.”

“Thank you so much. You’re too kind.”

[jessiebanethedragon]

One of the Brightest Stars

Word count: 3660 (is that alot?) idk

Warnings: major character death, sadness. 

A/n: I’ve thought about this idea for a while and heres what we ended up with, broke my heart writing it and if the title is a James Blunt song that just seemed to fit. 

It was raining on coruscant, the day you met. Throwing water down on the smog infested streets creating a wet smoke that weaved its way into your hair and clothes. You were tempted  to leave, what kind of night out was this anyways? Underground, illegal fighting that you’d been talked into attending on this horrible night. It was awful, chants from the crowd you couldn’t make out wanted someone dead, that much you could tell. Every sound of a blow landed resonated in your soaked bones. Of course your friends, whose morals you were seriously contemplating, wanted you to stay. Teases flew haphazardly of your weak disposition, ‘barbaric’ was the term you returned as you passed through the crowd to escape. Scoffing as the mob goes wild with another declared victor, stopping in shock as the loser is dragged out of the ring. Bouncers parting the sea of infidels and dumping the man at the bottom of a street light. You regarded him with a look of haphazard disgust, turning your head away from the sight and hugging the wall of the alley in the hopes of not being noticed. He wasn’t your problem. You’re not a medic. He’s not your problem. You’re not a medic. No matter how many times you tell yourself this guilt still eats away at you. But this man could be dangerous, you saw how they went at one another in that ring, it was dark out, and you were alone. But then again, so was he.

“S-s-should I call someone?” You stammered out, so quiet that he didn’t hear you over his own groaning. You try again. 

“Is - is there someone I should, I should call?” Under the glow of the blue hued street light his eyes almost seem yellow, and the way they meet yours has you taking a step back, retreating further away. Through the bloody nose, and split lip you look away. Eye contact made you feel exposed, like he was sizing you up for his next fight. As you look down you see clearly his attire. The symbol of the republic is hard to make out against the black material in the darkness. But the white plastoid that still covered his legs was unmistakable. And now, so was the earlier undeserenable chant. Kill the Clone.

He started to laugh at the realization that showed on your face, snickering through heaved breaths and the blood still coming out of his nose. “What? Never met a clone before?”  He slurred agitated, looking you up and down, figuring out what kind of person runs from back alley fights. You winced as he pulled himself up with another groan and tried to start walking. “Maybe, maybe you should sit back down?” You asked, unsure of the situation, he had to be a clone, if the plastoid was anything to go by, so was his black curly hair. You saw him nod before falling into the wall and sliding down it, eyes closed in pain. You took a tentative step forward. Jumping as the blaster goes off to signal another fight starting, the crowd as wild as ever. When you look back to the clone propped up by the wall, he’d managed to pass out.

Kamino Archives - Batch # 34-7229 - Domino squad report: CT-27 5555 continues to display problematic empathetic traits.

When it rained now, your heart ached for him. For that clone trooper who you staggered into your apartment wondering when the Grand Army of the Republic would come to your door to charge you with theft of military property. The stubborn man who tried to limp out of your life claiming he was fine, Fives who had so quickly intertwined his way into your heart. Who jumped out of his skin every time you touched him, no matter how light and soft you were, but clung to you in the night so tightly the sheets would leave marks on your skin. Echo, the citadel, everything he confided in you, a civilian he didn’t know, nor trusted. He snickered when you tried to tend to the bruises, and was so tightly knit unraveling the trooper took you hours. You came to memorize names, Rex, Kix, Jesse, Skywalker, Ashoka. And when he could finally stand without all colour leaving his face Fives pressed a shaking kiss to your knuckles as the only thanks he could give. And almost twenty rotations later, there was a knock at the door and there he was. Covered in mud, hair to goatee to boots. You ushered him in without thinking, and your heart broke when you asked what happened, he just shook his head. His light brown eyes glassed over and he jerked when you tried to pull him into your arms. Shushing his protests and coming into contact with the mud that had gotten through his soaked Blacks as you ran your hand into his hair.  

Kamino Archives - Batch # 34-7229 - Domino squad report: Retrial under Shaak Ti  ends successfully, Domino Squad shipping out to Rishi moon.

“Cyare,” he gasped when you wrenched the door open. “Fives.” You threw yourself into him, he still had all his armour on, and you collided awkwardly with the plastoid. Hearing the sound of his helmet hitting the floor as he embraces you, burying his face within your hair. Only pulling back far enough for him to kiss you firmly. All your muscles that had been torn with anxiety finally let go as you relaxed in his arms. He was back, he was alive, he was safe now. It is a mystery to the entire 501st where the ARC Trooper goes when they finally land planetside. And you’re the only person in the galaxy that truly knows where he belongs.

Kamino Archives - Batch # 34-7229 - Domino squad report: ARC-1409 K.I.A ARC-5555 remains in service.

Fives sobs in your arms the night he returns from that campaign. From Hardcase’s death, to his arrest, the betrayal and subsequent deaths that resulted from Krell. He throws his armour off that night, jaw trembling as he looks at his Kama and Pauldrons. 

“Lets run away.” You say, crying with him and holding his face in your hands. “Lets just go, no one has to know, we’ll  go somewhere away from the war away from the republic away from it all.” He shakes his head. 

“Away from the war? Mesh’la there’s nowhere far enough in all the galaxy.” When he wakes in the morning to leave again, back to the Grand Army of the Republic, he stops, and pulls your forehead to his. “I love you with all of my being.” He says, more serious than you’re used to, and presses something into your hand. 

“Fives…” you stammer. It’s his graduation medal from Kamino, shining brightly in your palm.

“Keep it safe for me, yeah?” He smiles, “if i had time, i would’ve melted it down and made you a real ring…” You pull him forward into a burning kiss. You want him to stay longer, You want this war to be over, you want to be able to love him and for him to be able to love you, openly, freely, not as a weapon of the republic. 

“I love you.” You call to him as he walks out the door again. He gives you his trademark smirk. 

“I love you too.” He says

Kamino Archives - Batch # 34-7229 - Domino squad report: ARC-5555, stationed on Umbara was complicite in the execution of Jedi Master Krell.  

You haven’t seen him in months. You come into your apartment dripping from the rain, only to collapse against the frigid durasteel door. He could be anywhere, even if he told you where the legion was dispatched that does not mean he wasn’t moved, transferred, or… Or dead. You weep. Taking gulps of stumbling breaths as reality hits you in an unforgiving wave as you realize, you may never know. Other militaries would contact those related to the deceased, but Fives, Fives would be another number in the kaminoan archives. Your grief manifests into a physical pain as your stomach intertwines and leaves you sobbing against the privy for the rest of the night.

“Listen, if anything ever happens to me…” “Fives don’t-” “If it does” “Don’t say it please, it can’t, i won’t…’ “Cyare-” “No! I won’t think of it, I won’t have you talking like that like, like…” “Okay Mesh’la, come’er. You know I always find my way back to you. But in case… in case I… get marooned, you find Rex, you find Captain Rex and give em hell for leaving me, okay?” “Okay. Okay, I love you, Fives.” “I love you too, cyare.”  

You wait. One day after another, telling yourself that if he’s not back tomorrow you’ll go track the boys in blue down. If he’s not back tomorrow… Until finally, when Fives has been gone so long none of your sheets smell like him, even looking at his soap in the shower makes your crumble, and the elderly Twi down the hall starts asking where that man of yours got to because his rowdy laughter ‘aint keeping her up like she used to do with her sweetie back in the day.’

You tremble getting out of the speeder, forgetting to thank the driver as you hand them credits with the struggle of unpredictably jerky hands. The landing platform is busy, ships and speeders creating chaotic white noise along with the sounds of thousands of boots on durasteel. Picking one person out from the crowd is nearly impossible, how you’re supposed to find Captain Rex seems completely out of your depth. So you do the only thing that you seem capable of and wander slowly into a forgien world. Flashes of Kamas and pauldrons grip at your heart strings and solidify your determination. Colours of yellow, green and red painted armour make you wonder how they would have highlighted his eyes and hair differently had Fives been in another battalion. An engine backfire catches your attention as a trooper begins to yell at the other about fuel burns. 

“There’s one thing Bacta can’t mend and that's burns! Get that through that shiny bucket of yours!” The stern voice breaks through the commotion and your eyes catch his helmet where it lies perched on his hip. Just above a blue strip of paint on his thigh plates. You make a mad dash towards the trooper, unsteady feet sending you into the sides of another clone who you push away in your haze. 

“Wait!” You call to him, if your wits had been more present you would have recognised the hair style and medic insignia that catch your eye when he turns to face you.  

“Can I help you mam?” He asks with a covertly raised eyebrow. 

“Are you, 501st?” you pant. 

“Yes mam.” He responds coldly. 

“T-torrent company?” Maker, you’re out of shape. 

“... yes.” He- Kix, you realise, responds hesitantly. You straighten yourself up. “I need to speak with Captain Rex.”

Kamino Archives - Batch # 34-7229 - Domino squad report: ARC-5555 operated on CT-5385 against orders. Charges for treason - Status: Pending.  

Kix is far less sauve in person. You know him to be sharp as a whip and a noteworthy smooth talker. But the stories Fives had told you on the nights neither of you slept, one laying on top of the other, listening to him talk for hours about his brothers while carding his hands in your hair, those stories painted a different picture to the man you see in front of you. This Kix keeps looking over his shoulder like he’s got a thermal detonator strapped to his back. And every time your eyes meet his, he pales slightly and looks away. Then again, you might be the strangest thing he’s ever seen, you stick out like a sore thumb in a sea of faces that are all alike. “Wait here.” Kix tells you before disappearing into a barrack. You give him a nod and fish the medal out of your pocket, squeezing it tight. The doors open with another woosh, and you spy Kix inside looking out like you’re a crazed Loth Cat. But he is blocked from your sight by another set of armour and a clone with a Buzz cut whose colour gives away his identity. 

“Rex...” You say from a memorized holo-still that you’ve got  framed on your bedside table. His blonde buzz cut setting him apart from the other three men in the photo. Only one of whom you’ve got memorized down to every cell. 

“Who. Are. You.” Oh, he’s so much colder than Fives, and so much more hidden away. 

“I need you to tell me the location of one of your troopers.” You rush out, tunnel vision encasing your mind, heart so close to finding its other half. The Captain laughs at you. 

“And you think I'm going to give that information away to some civilian? What makes you entitled to one of my men?” You shake with rage.

“He’s my fiance.” You seethe, and he laughs at you again. Anger becomes liquid in your tear ducts. 

“Listen, I don’t know what must’a happen for that delusion to come to light and I don’t have the time for what I'm sure would be an entertaining explanation. So if you’ll excuse me.” He goes to push past you and your tears. 

“CT 27-5555.” You deadpan, you’ve always hated those numbers just as much as he did. He never was, and will never be, a number to you. The captain stops in his tracks and looks feral when he turns back to you. 

“What did you just say?” He grits out, and it makes you feel powerful. He may think he knows his men, he may think he knows the in and out of his company. But he doesn’t, you know Fives better than anyone in the galaxy, and right now that gives you power. 

“CT 27-5555 of Domino Squad, made ARC status after the battle of Kamino, fought at the citadel, on Umbara and hasn’t been planetside in months.” You see the panic in Rexs’ eyes, you’re dangerous now, you have insider information, a spy? A sepratist? Republic traitor? Any of these identities would make you an atomb bomb. 

“Who are you?” He says looking at you like a detonator. You’re crying in front of him, everyone looks tantalizingly similar to Fives, and yet they’re so different it's like a laser pointer and a Loth Cat, something that you just can't get under your hands. 

“Please.” You beg, “just tell me where he is.” You uncurl your hand, leaving indents in it from the points and engraved words of the medal, and the captain's face softens tenfold. He opens his mouth to say something when the doors woosh open again. 

“Captain, General Skywalker is- Maker!” Jesse exclaims upon seeing you. And you absentmindedly wipe away tears, Jesse is exactly as you pictured him. “How in the- you’re real! I knew it!” Rex looks more confused than before, but you, you can’t help but smile a sad smile at the memory.

“I had an idea” Fives had said one night, hiding in one of the shower stalls just to be able to talk to you. “Well there is a first time for everything.” You teased, sitting on your bed in one of his old decommissioned undershirts, the very same one he’d been wearing the night you met. “That's disrespecting a republic soldier.” He commented, maker, you were feeling the distance tonight, you wanted him here, tackling you onto the bed for your snide comments and feeling his goatee when he kissed you. But all that would have to wait. “Soon to be an ex-soldier.” You reminded him, the war was coming to a close, and the second Fives had confirmation of sepratist surrender the two of you planned on taking off. “Cayre that’s a dangerous line of thinking.” He said, looking over his shoulder. “I know, I know, oh!” You realised all of a sudden. “I also had an idea!” Fives smiled at you, he was feeling the distance as well, seeing you in his GAR shirt was making him antsy. “You go first then.” He said, rubbing his chin where stubble was growing in. “EJ” You smiled hopefully, it was a risky suggestion and a far away thought, stemmed from pillow talk about future dreams. “As in-” “Echo Junior” He finished for you, looking at the hologram version of yourself that was so close yet so far from the real thing. “I love it.” He said after a long silence, something that always accompanied bringing up Echo. “he would’a hated it though, always hated the name, even if he did repeat orders like a damn-” “Like a damn echo.” You said with him, shifting on the bed. “Okay tell me your idea now.” “WHO’S THAT?” Came a familiar voice as you watched Fives whirl around as one of his brothers briefly appeared on the holo before disappearing again. “JESSE YOU BANTHA SHIT.” You heard Fives shout, before the holo-call disconnected and the image turned off all together, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Jesse.” You stated, coming face to face with the tattooed man for the first time. He was easy to recognize from the holograph and stories alone. 

“Maker,” he said stunned and laughing “He always said you were just some holo-video.” Rex is looking between the two of you now. 

“Jesse, you know this woman?” He inquired immediately, still on edge. 

“Yes sir, no sir,” he stammered. “Well yes and no, Fives one night, he, well i…” 

“He caught him on a comm with me.” You supplied, Jesse nodding enthusiastically at your response. You knew there was no hiding it now.  

“I see.” Rex said thoughtfully. “Dismissed.” 

“But sir, I, she…” Jesse started, before catching a glare and mumbling a yes sir as he retreated back into the barracks like a Loth wolf with its tail between its legs. Rex looked at you again, and took you in. Scrutinizing your existence with a sigh when his eyes land on the metal in your hand. Eyes glossing over in a thousand yard stare. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do, he said if he was missing to find you and I haven't heard from him in months…” You rambled, stopping when the captain raised his hand to rub his eyebrows. 

“Who else have you told?” He asked. 

“No one.” You breathed, “where is he.” You pushed, getting desperate now.

Kamino Archives - Batch # 34-7229 - Domino squad report: ARC-5555 removed his inhibitor chip against orders. Request for termination - Status: Granted.

Captain Rex brings you inside the torrent company barracks, and sits you down to tell you. Fives is dead, he tried to kill the chancellor, and was charged with treason. All of the warmth leaves you. Fives is dead, he tried to kill the chancellor, and was charged with treason. You cover your face with your hands as you cry, your headache splitting your skull in two as you try to contain tears and noise. Fives is dead, he tried to kill the chancellor, and was charged with treason. Fives will be buried stripped of his rank, medals, and labeled a traitor to the republic. Rex stands over you while you cry, unsure of what else to do. In all but a few moments he learns of your being, your devotion to his brother, and then, he widowed you.

“Can I see him?” You all but beg, and with a nod Rex walks out of the room, leaving you with no choice but to follow him. Rex... admires you. Yes, he does admire your will, to seek him out and risk your own life just to be able to love a clone. One of many million, who you had given your heart to. He admires your strength because when he leads you to the medbay morgue and you see the lifeless body, you do not cry. Rex stands guard at the door, and intrudes on this intimate moment that is a glimpse of the life that he never knew Fives had.

“Look at you, so this is what it takes for you to get a haircut eh?” You try the lame joke and run your hand over his cold face, stopping at the trademark goatee, tapping it lovingly. “And yet, you still have this.” silent tears begin. “I still set the table for two people, even when you’re gone.” You confess, “because I never know when you’re going to be back.” “Why didn’t we just leave?” You whisper to him,  “you stubborn, stubborn man. Why didn’t we just go?” You lean in close and smooth his facial hair over, and over again. Crying, and cursing the republic. You hear clatter from outside, and turn to look, Rex is looking as well, he’s risking everything to let you say goodbye. His eyes meet yours and you know this has to be quick. “Say hi to him for me, say hi to Echo for me, and remember how much i love you? Please? Because I do, I love you so, so much Fives. More than I could ever say.” You place one last kiss to his forehead, knowing that this will be the last kiss you ever give him. And place the medal on his chest, the one that made him a soldier, that made you engaged and made your claim to his heart, real. “Keep it.” The voice from the doorway says, and it sounds so similar to his, you gasp. But when you turn the eyes won’t have a golden hue, the hair won’t feel the same, and the man will be a carbon copy on paper, but completely different in reality. Your lonely fingers curl around the medal once again, and lift it from his chest.

Kamino Archives - Batch # 34-7229 - Domino squad report: ARC-5555 Terminated. No members of Domino Squad remaining.

End of report.

[mangobilorian]

Cooperation | (explicit)

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 5085

read first chapter

Summary: You fully intend to get a night alone with your captain.

Even if it means disguising yourself and outrunning rabid paparazzi.

Many people think that princesses live in indulgence. Opulent palaces, luxurious vacations, rare fashion. They’re not wrong; most of the time you find yourself living a more expensive life than the majority of the galaxy. But the galaxy is at war. A war that your planet, including many others, was dragged into. A war that blurs the edges between right and wrong, loser and victor. In wartime, there’s little to celebrate except for winning battles. However, despite the war sowing chaos and famine and death among your people, you can say, with confidence, that there's one good outcome to come of it: Rex.

Rex has been your one indulgence in the entire war, ever since the first attack on your diplomatic mission to now, nestled next to him in a dark alleyway. You would never be caught in such a scandalous position, your head nuzzled into his neck, arms wrapped tight around his armored body. The thought of getting caught, ruining your reputation, and potentially being cast off from your family occurs to you almost immediately, but— wrapped in the comfort of Rex’s arms— you can ignore the impending consequences for a bit longer.

“Are they gone?”

“Hopefully. Let’s wait for a bit longer,” Rex says, voice a filtered whisper above your head. He leans back, eyeing you through his visor. It’s not his usual helmet, no blue paint or jaig eyes or tally marks. No, he wears a simple white one to match his mostly-new, slightly scuffed armor. You remember him telling you that he swiped it off a shiny. The disguise worked of course; since the army is made up of identical men, civilians won’t bat an eye. As for your disguise… you should have worn better makeup and maybe a less transparent headdress. Or possibly a sturdier one? Honestly, you should have dressed up as anyone but a Pantoran. Oh well. You didn’t listen to Riyo when she said the plan wouldn’t work, but it’s not her place to talk when she has her own clone commander to sneak out with.

“You good? How’s the makeup holding up?” You frown. The blue paint already faded from your fingers long ago when you first held a cold glass of beer. It was an amateur move, and you’ll use better body paint next time. If there is a next time.

“I feel sticky. And hot.” Rex chuckles, causing you to rock in his arms.

“We did run around Coruscant.” He lifts a finger to your cheek and wipes. “Yeah, the yellow is completely gone.” Of course. The distinctive Pantoran markings were the first to go once you and Rex started fleeing. Rex peers over your shoulder and slowly detaches himself. You try not to whine at the loss of contact, but you do anyway, and Rex gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Come on.” His hand warms your own and, despite being slightly overheated due to an unforeseen chase, you welcome it.

Together, you dart between buildings and people. As you near a more commercial area, the crowds begin to grow. Rex separates himself, opting to walk a few paces behind. Even with the headdress on, you make sure to duck your head. No one questions Rex since the armor is a big enough deterrent. When you see two Coruscant guards, you force yourself to keep moving. It would be more suspicious for you to wait for a random clone trooper talking to his brothers.

By the time they reach Rex, you’re far enough ahead that you can’t make out their conversation. As much as you want to hide and wait for him so you can maintain a reasonable distance, you have another task at hand. You hail down a speeder cab, making small talk with the droid driver. Just before you speed off, you turn to Rex, a few meters behind. He scratches his helmet, once, twice. To anyone else, it wouldn’t be anything of note. To you, it’s a sign that he understands. Feeling reassured, you speed off.

The entire ride through the busy Coruscant night traffic is in complete silence. While the droid tries to make some conversation, your mind is entirely focused on one clone captain. The last time you both had the chance to meet was around three standard months ago. His recent campaign had been a long one, and he didn’t want to talk about it. You understand. It’s hard to lose fellow soldiers. It’s even harder when they’re your own brothers.

Despite not having any siblings of your own (courtesy of the strict regulations on the ruling family), you know what it’s like to lose the ones you care about. The last three months have been hard on you too: traveling all over the galaxy, passing legislation at home, dealing with scheming politicians. But the majority of your worry centered around Rex and how he was doing. It's sad, you think, that the moment he got back, he had to immediately deal with the complexity of your relationship.

He never explicitly told his brothers about you, but they know him well enough to read between the lines. Especially Kix. The medic figured out Rex’s feelings before he even confessed. He never compromised his duties, but suspicious marks on his neck and sneaking out at random hours only added to the theories. You worried that the rumor mill would spread, and your relationship would reach your parents.

While you might be stripped of your title as princess or forced to marry someone else, Rex faces the very real threat of decommissioning. Or reconditioning. Thankfully, the clones only gossiped amongst themselves. So while an entire battalion could know certain, scandalous details, no one else (not even their commanding Jedi) would know.

When Rex got back, you planned a simple date night at a bar with him. With precautions and his brothers’ discreet help, of course. He had to dress up as a shiny since, as Anakin Skywalker’s second in command, he was among the most recognizable clones. For you, a princess who’s friends with multiple senators, the spotlight isn’t new. Everything was going well, and you were well on your way to being tipsy. But—as odds have it— you were spotted. The people who saw you hounded you with questions. What neither you nor Rex knew at the time, was that a female Pantoran celebrity landed on Coruscant the day before. The media hoped to catch a glimpse of her and, despite your yellow tattoos looking nothing like hers, they latched onto you. And the fact that a clone trooper was next to you. You sincerely hope the real Pantoran won’t suffer too much from the media’s onslaught.

The droid’s robotic voice jolts you out your thoughts. Fumbling a bit, you insert a credit chit (a temporary, untraceable one), and hop off. The apartment building itself isn’t that discrete. While the building doesn’t reek of poverty, it pales in comparison to your regular Coruscant residence. You think of the handmaidens and guards you tricked and hope they aren’t too mad you snuck out.

Sighing, you enter the unit and flick on some lights when something grabs you. It’s a testament to your upbringing that you don’t scream outright. Or attack back. The attacker in question begins laughing, a full-bellied, happy laugh. You’d smile if it weren’t at your expense.

There, grinning from ear to ear, Rex stands, one hand on your arm.

“How did you get here before me?” He shrugs, leading you further into the unit and tossing you a pack of wipes.

“Skipper and Boot dropped me off two buildings down.” Ah. The two Coruscant guards, you suspect. You begin wiping the blue paint off your face and neck first before moving onto your hands.

“They weren’t suspicious?” Rex gives you a little grin before sliding a hand to your backside and giving a little squeeze. You yelp, more out of how uncharacteristic it is than surprise. You try to levy a glare, but his smug face is too much of a deterrent. Bastard. Hot, sexy, romantic bastard.

“I’m not the first clone who snuck off to an apartment building. And since I look shiny, they were even more willing.” He takes the wipe from your hand, rubbing at the spots you miss, and you have to stop from swooning at how sweet he is.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, something about ‘little brothers growing up.’ I told them I had a hot Pantoran waiting for me, and they broke half a dozen laws to get me here.” You raise a brow, a smile tugging at your lips.

“That eager, huh?”

“Always,” Rex whispers. It occurs to you, just now, how close you are. Sometime during your conversation, Rex had maneuvered you to press against his armorless chest, one hand on your waist, the other on your lower back. He tugs you even closer, and you can feel the hardness of his muscles beneath his skin-tight blacks. You realize, with some disappointment, that you’re still fully clothed in a heavy outfit, cloak, and headdress. Rex seems to have the same realization, and he leans down to steal a kiss.

You let him, closing your eyes and reveling in the steady, comforting way his lips move against yours. A hand slides up your shoulders, and you hear the gentle thud of your cloak falling. The fresh air against your now bare arms makes you gasp, and Rex takes the opportunity to brush his tongue on the roof of your mouth. You shudder, head already swirling at the sensation.

Rex leads you with a steady grip on your waist. You don’t bother separating, and stumble a bit. He catches you, and you giggle, breath mixing with his own. The ground moves beneath you before something hard presses into the backs of your knees. You open your eyes just as you tumble backwards into the bed, headdress already discarded. Rex gives you a smile, trying to be seductive but looking much too adorable. You can’t help but laugh. He flushes, the beautiful red decorating his dark skin, and his cuteness increases tenfold. It gives you whiplash, honestly, how someone so hot and sturdy can be a total, bumbling sweetheart.

Hands grab at the closures on the side of your dress, and you shift downwards to allow the garment to slip off. Rex throws the dress to the side, and if it were anyone else, you’d complain. The dress, despite being a disguise, is still a collector’s item from Alderaan’s latest fashion season. But, since Rex was the one to haphazardly throw the dress equivalent of priceless art on the ground, you hold your tongue. Actually, you open your mouth, but only to let Rex slide his tongue into it.

Moaning around his lips, you feel the rest of your undergarments loosen and fall aside. In your haze, you grasp at Rex’s biceps, pleased at the strength under his muscles. You slide a hand down his chest, feeling every hard plane, every dip. Rex pulls off you for a moment, eyes wandering over your exposed body. He unzips his blacks hastily, almost desperately, and you mourn about the fact that you didn’t have enough time to admire Rex in his blacks. It’s a simple protective undergarment, but the way it hugs his body is much too tantalizing for you.

You sit up on the bed, bracing yourself on your elbows, and watch. The material clings to his skin, even as he wiggles out of it. It’s tempting to say that he strips sexily. With his darkened eyes and languid movements, Rex definitely looks like a seasoned man. But the concentration on his face alongside the uncooperative fabric makes him seem all too adorable. You want to laugh again but opt for sending him a smile instead. Just because Rex’s ego isn’t high doesn’t mean you should damage it right before sex.

You don’t bother hiding your appreciation as he reveals more skin. Finally, after what feels like hours of agony, Rex stands bare. Without another second to spare, he leans over you, nudging you to your back. Lips graze over yours for a moment before forcing your mouth open. Groaning, you wrap your arms around Rex’s broad shoulders.

He slides you up the bed, closer to the headboard, and his lips leave yours before attaching to your neck. The steady sucking and occasional bite make your head dizzy, and you close your eyes. Your cunt throbs already, anticipating, waiting. Rex shifts, tongue licking at the skin below your collarbone, and you feel something half-hard against your leg. It feels good, like always, to have Rex’s mouth on you, but a sudden thought pierces through your hazy mind.

“No. Visible… marks,” you manage to say. Rex’s head lifts from his assault on your neck.

“Oh. Forgot about that,” he says, sending you a sheepish smile. He’s cute, you think. Too cute. And, despite being so much bigger and stronger, you have the urge to wrap him up in a big hug and protect him forever. After you get your brains fucked out of course. It seems like he’s on the same wavelength, and his adorable face plunges into the valley between your breasts and- oh .

Rex goes straight for sucking and biting and licking everywhere but the one place you need him. By the time Rex finishes marking your entire chest, your nipples almost ache at being left untouched. You whine, going so far as pushing his head closer to you. He chuckles, and his warm breath feels so good against your already heated skin. Finally, after moments of pure torture, his tongue grazes over your right nipple.

You moan, momentarily satisfied. Laying here, with Rex’s mouth on you, feels better than expensive vacations or gaudy clothes or aged alcohol. Rex makes you descend into pure bliss, and he manages it with foreplay alone. You shift a bit, trying to open your legs to wrap around his waist. He lifts up, and your legs ease out from beneath him.

With Rex paying attention to your chest, you take the opportunity to grind up against him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, just above the thing you desperately want inside you. But you have some patience and, since it took a lot of work to plan this night, you have hours to spare. The thought makes you giddy; hours alone with Rex sounds like the closest thing to heaven.

You rock gently against him, the grinding just enough to satisfy you. Rex, ever the vigilant lover, takes notice and separates from your chest. Before you can whine, he unhooks your legs from his waist and crawls down. A moment later, he wraps his arms around your thighs, encasing his head between your legs. You only have a second to breathe before a warm tongue touches you right there . Your right leg drops to the bed, no longer held, and a hand reaches up to wrap around your breast.

Rex’s tongue circles your clit, once, twice, three times in slow, delicate motions. It’s akin to torture and only makes your clit throb. You try to push up off the bed, but his grip on your left leg traps you down. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and close your eyes.

“F-fuck, Rex. Too… slow,” you groan. He chuckles in response, the uneven vibrations of his voice making you even hotter. Rex squeezes your breast for a brief moment then begins to suck on your clit in earnest. He alternates between sucking and using his tongue to swipe in multiple directions. Up and down, left and right, even a constant pulsing motion centered around your clit. To add to your yearning, he doesn’t even touch your center. You know, without a doubt, that you must be dripping.

All it takes a long swipe up your entire cunt for you to scream. Thankfully, you manage to throw a hand over your mouth despite your head being too fuzzy to think about anything else. His tongue continues to lick you, coaxing you through the high, until you whine about overstimulation. After a minute or two, your breathing slows, and the tingles all over your body seem to subside. When you open your eyes, you see Rex grinning over you. His mouth is shiny and wet—your doing, you think with pride— and you pull him in for a kiss, not minding the taste.

“Good?” he murmurs softly against your swollen lips.

“Yeah. Very good,” you say and pull away for a second to plant a messy kiss on his neck. Just as you open your mouth to suck a hickey there, Rex backs off. Suppressing a pout, your eyes trail from his neck, down his chest, and to the very hard cock Rex holds in his hand.

He spreads your legs with his knees, and lowers down. A hand hovers right above your mouth. You give Rex the sexiest look you can manage—to which he responds with an endearing smile— as you lick a wet stripe down his palm. You take two of his fingers in your mouth, sucking and swirling with your tongue. His smile transforms into something hungrier, more primal, and you clench around empty air. It’s messy and wet and much too hot, even for you. Against your protests, Rex retracts his hand. He pumps himself once, twice. Despite him already being hard, his cock seems to grow larger. He has a prominent vein on the underside of his cock, a glistening red tip. You want him in your mouth but�� Force, you need him inside you first.

“ Please , Rex,” you plead. He presses himself against your core, and thrusts his hips up and down, coating his cock with your wetness. His motions cause the head to brush against your pulsing clit.

When he’s satisfied, Rex pushes in just a little bit. “Ready?” You nod desperately, too excited to think straight. Rex groans as he slides in the rest of the way. It’s a tight fit— Rex is a supersoldier, and you haven’t had sex in three months— but Rex manages to fill you up perfectly. The first time you had sex had been a tad painful. The both of you were inexperienced since he never bothered with sex, and you had a reputation to think about. Granted, you fucked in an empty closet aboard a Star Destroyer, which might have added to the somewhat painful encounter. But here, trapped by his arms in a secret apartment, you’re proud to say that Rex stretches you in the most delicious way without any hints of real pain.

He pulls back a little bit before thrusting a little harder, and he starts at a steady pace. It’s not fucking, but Rex definitely isn’t going as slow as he can. There’s a slight urgency in his movements, a hint of care and intimacy. He leans over you, bracing himself on his elbows, and you grip his biceps, his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

“Fuck...,” he groans. “You’re so. Kriffing. Tight,” he says, dipping his head into your neck. You feel the bare trace of teeth and tense, slightly worried about marks, but it’s his tongue that darts to the dip above your collarbone.

Rex alternates between an in-out-in-out-in-out motion and grinding as you reach down to rub your clit. “So good,” you mewl, baring your neck for Rex. It’s altogether a bit too much: your fingers combined with Rex’s cock send you spiraling. You can feel the tell-tale sign of an orgasm coming— the urge for release just barely out of reach.

“Close?”

“Hmm... yeah.” Rex detaches himself, and you pout. The absence of his chest on yours allows the room’s air to cool your sweaty, heated skin. His thrusts slow until they stop. Frowning, you try to grind back, but Rex places a hand on your lower stomach and presses down.

“Can we change positions? For a bit?” Rex asks, looking shy despite his cock seated deep inside you. You nod; the brief interruption already has your orgasm dancing even further out of reach.

Rex pulls out in one motion, and you groan at the sudden loss. You spare a glance at his cock, moaning all the while. Rex flushes. Cute.

Hands grip your hips and gently urge you to turn. You follow his instruction, pushing yourself up on your elbows to flip and lie on your stomach. The air feels good against your back, and you prop your knees up, face planted into the sheets. It’s a presentation of sorts, a tantalizing, submissive position. You shake your ass for a good measure and smile when you hear Rex’s breath hitch.

You yelp when a rough hand grips your ass for a second, squeezing tight , before leaving. Then a sharp slap rings throughout the room, and a distinctive, stinging pain registers. “Good?” Rex asks, voice throaty and raw and much too attractive.

“Yes, captain,” you say, smiling into the sheets. When you first addressed him by rank, you had been making out in an empty medbay. He came in his blacks—armor included— and apologized profusely to which you responded with another kiss.

Rex slaps you again, and you jolt in surprise. The force isn’t hard, but it surprises you nonetheless. You feel two hands on each of your cheeks, and they pull at the flesh there, exposing you. The air feels good on both your holes but not as good as Rex manhandling you. He pushes your cheeks together and apart again. Rex moves them up and down too, pinching at the junction of your ass and thighs, massaging your lower back. He’s playing, you realize, and you love it. “Your ass is so fucking good,” he groans, sending another slap down. One of his hands snake to your waist and grips the skin there.

“Please, captain. I need-” Rex shuffles on his knees a bit and, without warning, pushes into you all the way. At this angle, he fills you deeper than before, and you have no choice but to take it. Rex starts slowly, making sure you get used to the new position. A hand settles on the dip of your lower back.

He grinds down and little by little starts to pick up the pace. His speed pushes you up the bed, and you can hear the supports squeak against the floor. You manage to sneak a hand between your body and the bed, finding your clit with practiced ease. As you begin rubbing yourself in desperate figure-eights, Rex thrusts a little faster, a little harder. He presses down, rocking your whole body, forcing all coherent thoughts out your head.

“You like that, princess?” You can only groan in reply, the warmth in your stomach building. “So kriffing hot,” he grunts and licks a blistering stripe up your spine. He presses in as deep as he can and, instead of almost pulling out and ramming back in like before, he thrusts shallower but harder. The increased pressure makes your head loll, and you distinctly feel a wet pool by your chin where you drooled.

Your fingers on your clit pick up their pace, bordering on pure agony and pleasure. You forget following patterns and move messily to stimulate your clit. It’s harder to keep your hand there though because Rex leans over to press against your back, trapping you. His chest is sweaty but hard and sturdy and firm. “ Fuck , princess. You’re so good to me.” He sends a particularly hard thrust into you, and you yelp at the pressure.

“I- kriff- love you, Rex,” you breathe out, mind delirious but honest. Your confession seems to send him into a frenzy because he pulls away, grabs your biceps to haul you off the bed, and sets a bruising pace. He bends you so your back arcs, face upturned to the ceiling while the captain pounds into you from behind.

Lips attach to your right shoulder, and you keen as Rex bites down. With every thrust in and out, you hear the sinful way your ass smacks against his hips, the wet squelch of his cock rearranging your guts. Rex’s rough grunts when he grinds deeper into you, your choked moans at his roughness. He rocks against you, pushing up-up-up . It’s thrilling: being used like this. You’re like a rag doll in his arms. And it’s oh so delightful to let Rex wreck you. With his speed and aggression, your breasts bounce uncontrollably, almost painfully. In your haze, you manage to cup your chest with your hands, trying to ease the pain. Your fingers roll around your stiff nipples which sends a new wave of pleasure to your cunt. But you can barely hold on; the sheer speed makes your breasts bounce too fast. Rex’s thrusts send your hands tumbling away, unable to grip on.

The bruising pace makes your eyes roll, and you finally let go. Your entire body goes limp in Rex’s hold, content to let him have your heart and your body and your mind. He continues to use you, not relenting in his pace. Sensing your tiredness, Rex lowers you to the bed, unlatching his hands from your biceps but keeping one on your lower back, still pounding into you.

It takes three more deep thrusts before you come, gasping into the pillow. Colors burst behind your closed eyelids, clouds of pure pleasure and dizziness and affection. Rex grunts once, twice, and tenses, groaning. You feel a warm burst, and suddenly, you’re fuller than you thought possible.

He drapes his body over yours, and the both of you stay there, content to be together. It takes minutes before you return to your senses, and even then you’re still a little fuzzy. He stays inside you the whole time, and you feel his cock soften with a slight throb here and there. Even while limp, however, he still manages to fill you enough so nothing leaks out.

Something gentle brushes against the side of your face, tethering you to the physical world. “Love you too, princess,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “My cyare,” Rex adds with another kiss on your neck. You shiver despite feeling much too hot and grin into the bed.

A moment later, he pulls away, the both of you groaning. You feel empty and cold, and your cunt clenches as he leaves. A steady trickle of his release drips down your skin and onto the sheets below. Rex lets you go and, with an undignified grunt, you roll to your back, Rex joining you. The two of you lay there, basking in the aftermath. More cum drips out of you, and the thought makes your clit throb. Fuck, you just came twice and you’re already horny again.

“Come here,” Rex orders, tugging you into a hug. He grabs two pillows and places them under your heads, but you migrate over to his. “Pillow stealer,” he accuses. You smile back. After all, it’s much better to share one pillow. He drapes an arm over your torso, and you nuzzle into his neck.

“That was good,” you murmur.

“Yeah? You liked that?” There’s a small hint of vulnerability in his voice, something unsure and worried.

“Of course. You know what I like.”

“I guess... I didn’t go too hard, did I? You went limp all of a sudden, and I thought I hurt you.” You separate from his neck, looking up at his concerned face.

“You’d never hurt me. Never. It just felt so good that I let go. I’d… like that again,” you blink up at him. Already, the pull of sleep calls to you.

“Oh. Ok.” His eyes drift down to your neck. “Sorry.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s quite a few visible marks.” You smile tiredly at his guilty expression.

“I can cover it with makeup. I’ve gotten better at it, haven’t I?” The both of you laugh. Rex places a hand on the back of your head and tugs you closer. You entangle your legs and, with a shy smile, feel the wet trace of his cum spill down your thighs. He seems to feel it too because he tenses. Worried that he might be uncomfortable, you try to pull back but stop when something nudges against you.

“Already? How?”

Rex grins. “Enhanced human, remember? Besides, you’re sexy and naked and tight.”

“And wet,” you add on.

“And wet.”

“I’m a little tired though,” you say as a yawn escapes your lips. While the thought of getting fucked by Rex again is enough for even more of his cum to gush out, you’re still tired. The whole day has been exhausting: putting on a disguise, running from the press, and getting fucked by the man you love.

“If you want, you don’t have to move.”

“Oh?” He hums, tracing a nonsensical pattern on your skin.

“I’ll be on top and you can lay there. You can even sleep.” The idea is tempting; not having to do anything while Rex fucks you sounds like a dream. But you want to make sure he doesn’t get too tired or feel like he’s being used. He deserves to relax. You think of ways to show him how much he deserves it. Maybe later, after a round or two, you can wrap your mouth around him, bob your head, and taste him for the first time in three months. Swirl your tongue on the underside and-

Well. You’re tired but still very much horny.

“If you really want to.”

“Oh I definitely want to, princess.” You giggle at his enthusiasm and place a tiny kiss on his collarbone, eyes almost closing out of exhaustion.

“Well then, captain, go ahead.” He pulls away to lean down and peck your lips then turns you to lie flat on your back, already slicking his impossibly hard cock against your cum-filled, dripping cunt. Rex slots into you and the intrusion is tighter than before. You’re already a little sore, and you definitely won’t be walking straight tomorrow. He thrusts shallowly then slowly picks up the pace, grunting delicious sounds. Part of you wants to stay awake just to see and hear him. But a bigger part of you wants to rest, and his promise of fucking you to sleep is too novel and exciting to pass up.

The last thing you see before you sleep are his golden eyes looking equal parts hungry and adoring.

[jate-kara]

May i request Fives, Echo and Rex for 46. “Shut up, I am a delight!” bescause "Vode An" is tearing me apart rn and thank you!

The prompt is from this list. My interpretation of ‘short’ is highly variable.

You can find Vode An here, in case anyone is looking for it

Lifeday | On AO3

Summary: It’s Ahsoka’s lifeday.

For years, the 501st has been talking about throwing her a party: baking a cake, coming up with gifts, singing her that stupid song all the civvies take such delight in. This is the first time it’s actually been a real and genuine possibility. Rex guesses he should thank Fox for that, whenever the Senate gets around to clearing him of any charges related to Palpatine’s very sudden and necessary end.

–

“You are all absolutely unbelievable.”

Fives doesn’t even have the decency to look properly ashamed of himself. He, Jesse, Dogma, Hardcase, and Echo are covered from head to toe in flour and of the group, only Dogma looks even the slightest bit sheepish about it.

“The General loans us his kitchen, in his home, and this is what you pull,” Rex says.

“We’ll clean it up,” Dogma says quickly. “Promise, sir.”

“It was Hardcase’s fault anyway,” Jesse says.

“How as I supposed to know the bag would explode?” Hardcase grumbles.

“Oh, we definitely don’t know,” Fives says dryly, “but when you figure it out, you let us in on it.”

The war’s been over for three weeks and Rex already wishes he was back on the front lines. There’s still plenty to sort out, of course, that’s sort of an inevitable side-effect of the Republic’s Chancellor having orchestrated the entire war for his own benefit, but beyond waiting for orders about which Separatist holdouts still need to be cleared up, there’s not much they can do.

And besides, it’s Ahsoka’s lifeday and for years, the 501st has been talking about throwing her a party: baking a cake, coming up with gifts, singing her that stupid song all the civvies take such delight in. This is the first time it’s actually been a real and genuine possibility. Rex guesses he should thank Fox for that, whenever the Senate gets around to clearing him of any charges related to Palpatine’s very sudden and necessary end.

“All right, men,” Rex says at last. “We’ve got to pull ourselves together or this is never gonna get done.”

“I’ve never baked anything before,” Hardcase says. “I didn’t know it was gonna blow up.”

“Will you stow it already?” Jesse groans. “We get it: you didn’t think the bag would blow if you punched it. Well, guess what, genius? It did. It blew up and now it’s everywhere and we’ve got no flour for Ahsoka’s cake.”

“We could just go get some more,” Echo points out. Suddenly, all eyes are on him. “What?”

“I suppose you have credits for that,” Fives drawls.

“I do,” Echo says. “Hunter gave them to me. Tech’s really good at pazaak.”

Rex can feel the headache coming on already. “All right,” he says. “Echo, you, me, and Fives are on retrieval. We’ll go to the market, get the flour, and bring it back here. The rest of you, get this kitchen cleaned up. I want it in top shape, and I don’t want to hear any complaints from General Skywalker or Senator Amidala about it later. You got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Dogma bites out, which is better than the eyerolls Rex gets from Jesse and Hardcase.

“They’re gonna make an even bigger mess and we’re gonna be the ones that have to deal with it,” Fives says as they climb into the speeder. “What do you bet, Rex?”

“They’ll be fine,” Rex grumbles. “Just drive, Echo.”

“Whoa,” Fives says. Echo pauses; his finger hovers over the speeder’s ignition. “No, no, no. He’s not driving.”

“What is it with you and my driving?” Echo demands. “I drive fine.”

“No, you used to drive fine. Then you started hanging out with the Bad Batch and now you drive like you have a death wish.”

“I don’t have a death wish. I’m just trying to get us there faster.”

“I’ll drive,” Rex says mildly, and Echo scowls at Fives and moves over.

The market’s crawling with people. There are no other clones, besides a few of the Coruscant Guard keeping watch from a distance.

“So,” Fives says, “what’s the plan if they won’t sell to us?’

They were all thinking it. “They will,” Rex says, though it doesn’t sound as confident out loud as it did in his head. “I mean, why wouldn’t they?”

“Well, we’re the face of the war,” Echo says. A smirk plays at his lips. “All of us. We have the same face. Get it?”

Fives and Rex groan.

“Shut up. I’m a delight.”

“You’re not,” Fives says. “You’re a pain in the shebs.”

“We still need that flour,” Rex points out, “so cut the chatter unless you’ve got something useful to say.”

There are plenty of vendors scattered around the courtyard; it’s the largest outdoor market on Coruscant and the only one in the vicinity that carries the specific brand of flour needed for a Togrutan lifeday cake. “I’ll just go ask,” Echo says haltingly. “What else are we gonna do?”

“You’ll get swindled is what you’ll do,” Fives said. “Have you ever bought anything before? Let Rex do it.”

Echo blinks at him and shrugs. “All right,” he says. “Rex, you’re up. Show us how it’s done, sir.”

Rex warily accepts the credits and scans the crowd for the correct vendor. As soon as he finds it, he shoulders his way through, conscious of Fives and Echo at his back.

The vendor is an old Togruta woman. She looks them up and down and blinks at them, unimpressed. “You got credits?” she asks suspiciously. Rex bites back the urge to sigh. Everyone knows they don’t get paid (and no one does anything about it).

“We do,” Rex says a long beat later. “How much?”

“How much you got?”

“How much are they?”

“That depends on how much you’ve got,” she says, annoyed.

“How are we supposed to pay you if we don’t know how much it is?” Fives asks. “I mean, come on.”

“That’s how it works here,” she shrugs. “How much you got?”

“Just tell us how much,” Rex says. “…please.”

She screws her face up but seems to realize it’s the only answer she’s going to get. “Twenty credits,” she says slowly, like she’s testing them. “For the little bag.”

That’s all they need. Rex very carefully hands her the correct amount. She tosses the bag at them. “Thanks,” Rex says, but she doesn’t answer them: she’s already moved on to talking to the next customer.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Echo says, once they’re back at the speeder. He gingerly settles the bag in the dashboard compartment and clicks it shut.

Ten minutes back to Skywalker and Amidala’s apartment. The others should have the place cleaned up by now. Assuming Kix doesn’t get swept up in more post-war paperwork, he’s supposed to extricate Ahsoka from Kenobi and the 212th and bring her over by 1800.

So that leaves them three hours to make, bake, and decorate the cake when none of them has ever baked anything in their lives.

At least it comes with instructions.

Rex whips the speeder around the corner – and promptly brings it to a screeching halt. There are vehicles lined up as far as they can see up the lane.

“Shab,” Echo says. “What happened?”

“Crash, probably,” Fives mutters. “They were probably driving like you do.”

Rex gives it ten minutes. At twenty, they’re still sitting motionless. The speeder behind theirs has started revving its engine off and on like that’ll somehow make the pileup shift into motion.

They don’t have time for this.

“Where are you going?” Fives asks as Rex pulls out of the lane. Rex doesn’t answer him, just puts the speeder into a sharp incline and guns it.

“Rex, this is a military lane,” Echo says.

“And we’re military personnel,” Rex shoots back.

“In a civilian speeder!”

“Speeder, identify yourself. You are in a restricted lane.”

Fives is plastered to his seat but he still manages to reach forward far enough to hit the blinking comm. “This is Captain Rex,” Rex says easily, heedless of Fives’ scowl. “We’ve…commandeered a vehicle and are using the lane for passage.”

“Roger that, Captain. Carry on.”

“You’re lucky Fox is locked up right now,” Fives says through gritted teeth, “or he’d have your head for this.”

“That was Thire on the comm,” Echo says. “I’m pretty sure he’ll report it.”

No one wants to be on traffic duty. Rex wonders what Thire did to get stuck with it.

“Let’s hope not,” Rex says.

“Please slow down,” Fives snaps. Rex glances at him: his eyes are squeezed shut. “You and Echo and your shabla driving. It’s like no one taught you how. Ever.”

“Relax,” Rex says. “We’re f—”

“Look out!”

Rex swerves just in time to avoid the Coruscant Guard swoops ripping across the lane. “Wonder who they’re chasing,” Echo says.

“Slow down!” Fives barks. “Damn it, Rex, I don’t want to die again.”

By the time Rex sets the speeder down back at Amidala’s apartment, Fives is shaking. He stumbles out of the speeder and wobbles across the platform.

“Hey, Fives,” Jesse says, poking his head out the door. “You all right?”

“Rex should be relieved of his command,” Fives mumbles, letting Echo lead him inside, “until he learns how to pilot a kriffin’ speeder.”

Jesse giggles. Rex glowers at him and shoves the bag of flour against his chest. “Keep Hardcase away from it,” he says. “We are not doing that again.”

“Red means stop, by the way,” Jesse says with a wide grin. “Saw you coming down the lane. You blew through the traffic signal, Captain.”

“Get that cake made, Jesse.”

By some miracle, the cake comes out fine. Rex suspects Dogma was a very large part of that particular outcome, just like he’s sure Echo’s steady hands are the reason the frosted lettering is at all legible; it’s blue on a white background, for the 501st: Happy Lifeday, Ahsoka.

“There is an ‘h’, right?” Fives says, furrowing his brow.

“Yes, there’s an ‘h’,” Rex says. Echo heaves a sigh of relief. Behind him, Hardcase is balancing on Dogma and Jesse’s shoulders to hang up the last of the streamers and balloons.

“Ten minutes,” Echo says. “If Kix is on schedule.”

“Give him plus another ten,” Fives says, folding his arms. “He gets caught up pretty easily.”

The door clicks open. They spin as one. “General,” Fives says. “Welcome back.”

“Don’t call me general when I’m at home,” Anakin says, wrinkling his nose. “Really, Fives.”

“What are we supposed to call you…sir?” Dogma asks.

“You can call him Anakin,” Padmé says, sweeping through the door. They haven’t exactly been the most subtle about their relationship since the news of Palpatine’s treason came down the line, but then, Rex very much doubts the Jedi Council has the time to care right now. They’re too busy dealing with the fallout of an almost-Order-66.

And the fact that Fox and Fives, not the Jedi, were the ones that stopped it.

Everyone’s hair is still growing back from having their chips removed.

“Yeah, no, that’s not gonna work for us,” Jesse says. “What else is there?”

“Ahsoka used to call him Skyguy,” Rex says with a smirk. Skywalker scowls at him.

“No. Not that,” he says. “You can call me Anakin. You’re just gonna have to figure out how to make it work. Now hurry up and hide. Ahsoka and Kix were five minutes behind me so they’re gonna be here any second.”

Amidala clicks the lights off. Rex huddles behind the couch with Echo and Fives. Jesse and Dogma duck behind the overstuffed chairs.

“I think it should be open,” Ahsoka says from outside the door. “Anakin usually leaves it unlocked if he knows I’m coming by.”

“Sounds hazardous,” Kix says. Rex rolls his eyes. Beside him, Fives jumps slightly. He stills him with a hand on the shoulder. Not yet.

The door swings open. Amidala hits the lights. “Surprise!” they bellow, and Ahsoka’s face goes from startled to delighted.

“Happy lifeday, Ahsoka,” Anakin grins, and drags her into a hug. She holds on for a second and then Jesse’s elbowing his way in for his turn. Rex hangs back and waits until the others have had their chance. Ahsoka beams at him.

“Happy lifeday, vod’ika,” Rex says, and pulls her close.

“We made you a traditional Togrutan cake,” Dogma says proudly. “With the right flour and everything.”

Ahsoka’s eyes are shining. Rex hoists her up onto his shoulders. “Come on,” he says. “We barely managed not to burn the thing.”

“I’m sure you did fine,” she says.

“Well, it was mostly Dogma. Echo did the frosting.”

“I picked the sprinkles,” Hardcase says, following after. “They’re silver. Just because.”

Fives cuts the cake unevenly, Echo picks at him for it, but none of their bickering seems to bother Ahsoka. There’s a brightness to her eyes that Rex hasn’t seen since the first time he met her on Christophsis. The others are crowded around her, doting and stacking the gifts they brought beside her so she can open them later. Skywalker’s arm is around Amidala. He’s wearing a wide smile.

They’re safe, they’re happy, and they’re so very alive.

For the first time in his life, Rex’s heart is light.

–

[ceealaina]

Title: What's New Pussycat? Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card: 4008 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Image: Uh, Kitties Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Romantic Fluff, Domestic Summary: After crashing through a wall at the Bad Guy Lair of the Week, Tony finds cats. A lot of cats. And entire roomful of cats. Apparently Avengers Tower is now a shelter for cats as well as superheroes...   Word Count: 1829

So maybe -- maybe -- Tony had just very slightly overestimated his abilities in handling this fight without backup. Or maybe he’d underestimated the number of bad guys. But either way it was okay. It was fine, he was fine, everything was fine. He had it all totally under control. 

And he totally believed that. Right up until, in taking out what he really hoped was the last bad guy, he’d found himself thrown through a wall, because of course he had. 

For a minute Tony just let his eyes fall shut beneath the faceplate, waiting for JARVIS to run scans and make sure there wasn’t somebody waiting to whallop him with a bulldozer, or something else stupid. It had been a long day and a longer fight, and while there were no serious injuries, he ached in places he hadn’t even known he’d had. All he wanted right now was to go home, have a drink, and then take a long, hot bath with the jets on extra strong, and then maybe sucker one of the various supersoldiers he had running around his house into giving him a backrub and --

“Uh, sir?” 

JARVIS interrupted the very nice daydream Tony was developing with a tentative tone that had Tony groaning. 

“What is it, J? Another five hundred of them in the basement?” 

“Not exactly, sir.” 

But before JARVIS could explain, Tony heard the sound for himself, faint little squeaking noises filtering through the speakers of the armour. He looked up and his eyes went wide as he took in what he was looking at. 

“Uh, kitties?” 

“It appears so.” 

Lots and lots of kitties, in fact, perched in little cubbies lining the walls of the room he’d crashed into -- thankfully it didn’t seem any had been injured with his abrupt entrance, so there was that, at least. They were viewing him with various degrees of curiosity, and as Tony was still trying to get his bearings, one of them hopped down. He lifted his hand on instinct, and the cat wound her little body around him, rubbing her chin on his fingers. Tony blew out a breath. 

“Oh boy.” 

***

“Okay, so Honeybear, don’t be mad.” 

Tony met Rhodey at the door with an extra-large coffee and his flirtiest smile; in retrospect probably not his best first move, because nothing was going to make Rhodey more suspicious. 

Rhodey hesitated before stepping inside, eyes narrowed at Tony. “What did you do?” 

“Seriously! Steve already yelled at me once today, which is just ridiculous really because I actually didn’t even do anything wrong this time, and it’s not like he still has allergies or anything. Really, if anyone’s the injured party here, it’s me.” 

“I didn’t yell at you, Tony!” Steve called from somewhere near the kitchen. “We just had a serious conversation about making executive decisions without consulting the rest of the team.” 

Tony waved an arm like that was the same thing. “Who pays the rent, Steven?” he shot back. 

Rhodey just pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a deep breath. “Tony,” he said, trying to get him to refocus on the actual issue at hand. “What. Did you. Do?” 

Tony gave him a guilty smile in lieu of actually answering, and then started to lead him down the hall. “I just want you to know that I didn’t have a lot of other options. There was nowhere else to take them, Rhodey. I couldn’t just dump them all on the street. And they were doing weird things to them, Honeybear. Cloning them and god knows what else, and sure I took out the bad guys, but what if it was the shell of a larger company, huh? I wasn’t going to leave them there!”

Tony could tell that Rhodey was bracing himself for the worst, so rather than trying to explain further he just led Rhodey into the room he’d converted for his purposes. It was supposed to have been a gym, initially, but then he’d realized the extent of Steve’s abilities and he’d repurposed an entire floor for the gym instead, leaving this space empty. It had been mostly used for storage since, so it hadn’t been too hard to convert it into--

“Holy shit,” Rhodey muttered as he opened the door, revealing all the kitties, some of the playing, some of them eating, some of them snuggled up for a good, long nap, or perched on the window watching the day go by. “Tony, did you start a cat shelter?” 

“Uh…” Tony couldn’t tell if Rhodey was impressed or horrified, which wasn’t a great start. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not exactly?” 

Rhodey arched an eyebrow, but Tony was pretty sure he could see a slight smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “So what, exactly, is it?” 

“I told you, I couldn’t just leave them there! And do you know how overcrowded the shelters are in this city? Nobody could take this kind of influx, not even if I spread it around. I could have covered the costs -- would have covered the costs -- but they still wouldn’t have the space. So… Easier to just keep them here, right?” He gave Rhodey his best smile. “Just think of it like a foster home, just until we find them all permanent homes.” 

“We?” 

“They!” Tony corrected quickly. “I’ve got a contact at the shelter. They’re working on it, but you know, there’s kinda a lot so it might take a bit. Come on Honeybear, it’s not like I’m going to keep them. You know me, I’m much better with electronic babies than real ones.” 

Rhodey rolled his eyes, but he was fully grinning now, and when one of the cats came to wind herself around his ankles, he immediately reached down to give her neck scratches, setting off a loud barrage of purrs. “You’re such a doofus,” he told Tony, but his voice was all affection. 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, grinning back at him. “That’s what Steve said too.”

***

The thing was, while he never made a big deal about, Tony knew that Rhodey had always loved animals. He’d seen the monthly donations on Rhodey’s credit card bill (and had tripled them anonymously), he’d seen the way he’d choked up over the abandoned animals commercials on television, and he’d been in the car that time he’d nearly killed them while successfully avoiding a squirrel. (Rhodey swore that it hadn’t been that close, but Tony knew the truth.) 

So it wasn’t exactly surprising when Rhodey “accidentally” got well and truly invested in taking care of all the cats, making sure they were fed and watered, that the bot Tony had designed kept their litter boxes cleaned, and that they had lots of play and snuggle time. Neither of them had ever had pets before -- it hadn’t really been conducive to their lifestyles -- but Tony loved watching Rhodey interact with them. He was already soft as hell for the man, falling more in love with him practically every time he looked at him, but something about watching Rhodey interact with the clowder of cats made Tony fall even that much harder. 

He also wasn’t oblivious to the way Rhodey’s face would fall a little each time one of kitties left for their new home, the way he’d cuddle the remaining cats just a little closer the next time he was visiting them. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them, of course he was. And of course deep down he’d know that they wouldn't all be able to stay. But Tony knew his husband, knew how little it took for him to adopt someone -- that was, after all, how they’d ended up together in the first place. So it wasn’t surprising that Rhodey had mentally adopted every single one of the cats. 

They were down to only seven cats left when Tony snuck into the room one day, intending to ask Rhodey something that had seemed important at the time, only to find him sitting in an armchair, facing out over the city with his favourite kitty snuggled into his arms (not that he’d ever admit to having favourites, but Tony knew). He was talking away to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how they’d be sure to find her the best home, somewhere really special, and Tony felt his heart melt. He snuck right back out again, waiting until he was safely out of earshot before speaking up. 

“JARVIS? I need you to order some supplies.” 

***

It wasn’t too much longer before the rest of the cats had been adopted, all except for the one that definitely wasn’t Rhodey’s favourite, even though he kept turning down adopters for her, and had already named her Einstein. Tony loved Rhodey, but he was such a dumbass sometimes. (Yeah, yeah, pot, kettle, shut up JARVIS.) 

Tony had waited until Rhodey had some meetings that he couldn’t put off, pretended he was on a lab binge, and then the second that Rhodey was gone he’d rushed down to the cat room to get everything ready. It didn’t take much to close everything up, sneak Einstein out -- she really was a sweet little thing -- and then plunk himself on the couch in time for Rhodey to get back. 

As predicted, Rhodey headed for the cat room almost immediately upon his return, barely even offering Tony a wave on his way by. If Tony hadn’t known his husband so well, he might have been offended. Almost immediately Rhodey was sliding back out of the room, eyes wide. 

“Tones? Have you seen Einstein?” 

Tony feigned a neutral expression, but he knew he was doing a terrible job of hiding his dumbass smile, stupidly pleased with himself. “Oh, uh… She was adopted. While you were gone.” 

Rhodey, apparently, had missed his smile altogether. “What? When? By who?? I’m supposed to have veto privileges. I didn’t even meet them, Tones!” o

“Oh my god,” Tony groaned, rolling his eyes. “You ruin everything.” He was still grinning through, and he got up to reach behind the couch, picking up the little cat pet that Einstein was snoozing in, all dressed up with a red and yellow ribbon. “She was adopted by you, dipshit. Surprise.”

Rhodey stopped dead. “Oh,” he managed. And then he broke out into a wide smile, moving to take Einstein, now blinking at him sleepily. “Wait, really? She’s ours?”

“Ye-es…” Tony narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “You’re in charge of her litter box, though. I’m not doing that.” 

Rhodey just burst out laughing, bright and happy, and Tony couldn’t help beaming at the sound of it. “God, I love you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too.” Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute though, cause god, you’re dumb.” 

Rhodey didn’t even protest, just reached out and hauled Tony in for a tight hug, holding him close until Einstein gave an indignant meow of protest from between them.

@tonystarkbingo