#self cloning gone wrong

[justacitygirll]

I'm sorry, but is vic being held at gun point by themself?

[orteil42]

we are in dire need of some new media trend. we've done pirates, we've done cowboys; we've gone through two whole zombie revivals. aliens and space themes have basically been a constant since at least the 1950s, as have robots and evil AIs. we went pretty heavy on vampires for a while. we've also done dinosaurs, ninjas, musicals, wizards, sea creatures, ancient rome, ancient egypt, middle ages out the wazoo, entirely too much world war II, we're currently overdosing on our superhero phase, we've done monsters (misunderstood), monsters (radioactive), fake guy in the real world, real guy travels to fake world, caves & mining, vikings, what if you were really small, genre parody as a genre, sand, New York, time travel, something racist goes down in the jungle, neurodivergent detective, buddy cops, crooked cops, gangsters, bank heists in particular, kid has powers, revolt against the corporate world, portals, social insects, dragons, the British, global apocalypse, martial arts, roadtrip as self-discovery, Jesus, clones, clowns, babysitting goes wrong, demonic possession, ghosts of all kinds, talking animals, fucking with the stock market, restaurant ownership, dwarves, planes, and spies. where do we go from here. what's our next big thing

[fanfoolishness]

I like to imagine that in the future, people remember the clones. After Palpatine falls for good on Exegol, imagine an explosion of freedom and knowledge in those days after the final defeat: imagine archaeologists and scholars plumbing the depths of Imperial and First Order records, trying to figure out what had happened so it could never happen again. And through it all they find the clones’ story woven into everything, until a new field emerges of Clone Studies, a loose alliance of military history buffs and research biologists and anthropologists and ethicists.

They catalogue the Kaminoans’ research; they review the clone memorials on Coruscant, on Zeffo, monuments as large as a massive wall or as small as a quiet statue, from people throughout the galaxy who were grateful for what they did. They study the great tragedy and betrayal of the chip, finally understanding the scope of Palpatine’s plans and bringing them out into the open, sharing the truth that the clones never chose to betray the Jedi Order and Republic they had served faithfully. They study old war vids and oral histories from people of long-lived species or whose grandparents remembered the clones; they build, memory by memory, a sense of the culture, the camaraderie, the brotherhood, the loyalty. They collect vids of battle songs and in-jokes and an interior language shared among them, springing up over the years.

They find and list their names, self-chosen or given by their brothers: Rex, Fives, Howzer, Echo, Tup, Gregor, Wolffe, Cody, Boil, Waxer, Cut. They study the clones whose differences defined them and knit them into a family whose ties could not be broken, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair, Omega. They study the discarded who nevertheless still had value - 99, Emerie, the clones who were culled in infancy for being wrong. There are specialists who devote their entire branch of study to the only male unaltered clone and his infamous exploits throughout the galaxy, so alike his father’s. They study the years of the clone rebellion, a fight that paved the way for the next wave of fighters and the next after them.

The clones are gone. That is undisputed. Their kind came for a little while, and then vanished, burning brightly; their tale was a tragedy, but one unique in all its seeming sameness. There are conferences and holovids and books. There are debates and research firing up young scholars about a time only their great-grandparents can remember.

In the future, after all the clones are gone, there are still stories.

[starry-bi-sky]

DPxDC Masterpost

Almost all of my DPDC posts have the #Danny Fenton is Not the Ghost King tags, barring perhaps my earliest aus like my Thomas Wayne Au (which will be included in the post). This tag includes art i've made, asks i've answered, and non-fic au posts I've created. This is my main tag!

DPxDC posts under the main tag that don't have their own tag: Danny's Life-Changing Cross-Dimensional Roadtrip with A De-Aged Batman Danny is also Bruce Wayne (Starry goes back to their middle school roots) Danny being the first batkid (if i can get the creative juices flowing I will expand on this. mark my words) There is a Damian clone LOOSE in Amity Park. Oh wait, Danny's got him.

My Biggest DPxDC Aus #Danny Fenton is a Clone: all my posts talking about clone!Danny.

Clone Danny Masterpost: previously my pinned post. A no-powers au where Danny is also a clone of Bruce Wayne, also includes some clone^2

#Clone^2: Clone Damian + Clone Danny au combined, explores themes like identity, found family, and growing into your own as a person. Starting post Here.

#Childhood Friends Au or #Cfau: A childhood friends dead on main au that explores grief, how it may change a person, and how growing up in Crime Alley changed Danny. Contains heavier themes like smoking and mild violence.

#Danyal Al Ghul Au: Mostly contains my au where Danny is not Damian's twin, but his older brother! An excuse for me to delve into the psychological effects that growing up in the League would have on Danny that I don't really see in other DAG aus. Putting the 'assassin' in 'raised by assassins'.

My Minor DPxDC Aus Danny Fenton is Thomas Wayne: an oldie but a goodie! An reveal gone wrong au where Danny decides to go by his middle name 'Thomas' shortly after the events of TUE, and leaves Amity Park two years later. He finds out that Vlad cloned him again and finds an infant in the lab. Danny takes the baby, names him Bruce, and ends up adopted by the Waynes.

#Danny Fenton is Jason Todd au: An au where Danny is Jason Todd! He was adopted by the Fentons shortly after the events of the carjacking.

#Older Brother Danny: contains all of my aus where Danny is an Older Brother. This currently includes only my DAG posts but it's not limited to Danyal Al Ghul.

#Changeling Danny: a half-ghost? oh, wait, no. that's a changeling. even worse! Danny's got latent fey blood from a Fenton getting freaky with a faerie some dozen generations ago, and it reactivated with a fervor when he had his accident! Instead of a halfa, he became one of the Fair Folk.

#Blood blossom au: currently the name for the time being. A Nightingale/First Batkid au where Vlad poisons Danny with blood blossom extract, and it results in Danny running to Batman! Currently only one post, but it has a lot of branching pathways in the reblogs. Batdad centered! Now comes with its own fanfic!

#tales of the passerine: the official au name for my "Danny being the first batkid" post! This au is what inspired changeling Danny. It's the idea that Danny was the first to be adopted by Bruce, and features me favoring batdad over "lmfao Danny goes fuck you bruce and adopts the other kids" au. Because I want batdad.

(Nightingale is, so far, the official vigilante name for the Eldest Batkid Danny concept on my blog.)

#mother of monsters danny: specifically its mother of monsters dan but i digress. I was messing around with my fem!Danyal au and boom! Her evil timeline self is Layal, the terrifying Mother of Monsters who raises any manner of monstrous beasts. I love her <3

#martha knight au same song, different dance! This is a fem danny version of my aforementioned "Danny is Thomas Wayne" au. Except this time around, Danny is Martha! Arguably my favorite between the two, I feel like I'm able to do more with her than Thomas. Her au's vibe is After All by Christine Ebersole

Bonus Excerpt: a ficlet I made in response to a DPxDC Dead on Main prompt! It's not under the main tag as I didn't make the post, however it can be found if you search #fem danny fenton on my blog. I actually really love this idea so I may make it its own tag in the future.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being in a relationship with Dottore but with a twist. He has a fake amnesia.

Imagine months after reuniting with your lover. You started to notice that he was a little different from before. He was your Dottore, at the same time, just like what you have felt before. He was different, there were times where it felt like he was the man you love, but there were also times where you wonder if this man was really the man you love.

"Dar- no, Dottore. Can we talk?" He was busy, you knew that. He was always busy. But at the same time, he always make time for you. He always does, that was something that never changed. "Dottore? Little one, what did I do wrong this time?" Setting down his paper, his masked face came into view. "You always call me Darling but often call me by my name whenever you're upset." He spoke gently, standing up from his seat and started walking towards you who was now looking down at your lap, unable to face him for the words that you are about to say.

Imagine, you love Dottore. Even when he went missing for months. Even when it has to be you to go and went to look for him not the other way around. You did that because you love him. But you do not know what to feel anymore. He feels different. Or maybe you never get to know his true self, maybe what he have shown to you was a mare fragment of himself. You love him still, you do. But sometimes he scares you. It was not just you, you could see the way others look at him, some were admiration, respect and there there was the look of terrified people. There was also that fact that he never once, after meeting you, took of his mask. Did he not trust you anymore?

"Little one." There he was right in front of you. "Couldn't bare to look at me anymore hmm?" There he was sweet talking you, it reminds you of the past where he would often do the same when soothing you. "Look at me little one." You felt him gently place a hand on your chin before gently lifting it up. "Tell me what's wrong, hmm?" You were contemplating, once in a while looking back and front at him and into our side only to let out a sigh. "Dottore, I think we need a break..."

Imagine, Dottore thought you were really interesting. That fact that you, manage to capture the heart of one of his clones, telling you about his real name let alone where to find him. Tells how important you have become to that clone of him. And to be honest for the past months that he has been with you, he did see why. Why his clone had gone through such measure. You were kind and innocent. Very innocent. He could tell you a lie and you would believe it with no questions asked, makes him wonder how could such human being give their trust so easily. It makes him thrilled and it cames him greedy. He wanted to keep you at all cost within his arms, make sure yor world would only revolve around him.

so Imagine the way his eye twitches as soon as you said those words. He have always been patience with you. But at those very moments, he almost grabbed you by the neck, almost asked you why, why would you say such scary thing? Take a break? Why was that needed? He was giving you everything that you want. His time, affection, expensive gift and jewellery, the books that you want. So why was that needed? What was wrong? Why the fuck would you think the two of you needed a break? But then he needs to calm down, he needed to calm down. So with silent rage, he asked. "Why?" Then you answered. "Because sometimes, you felt like a different person, Dottore. You're scaring me sometimes." You answered, eyes tearing up. "I'm sorry." You sniff, looking down once again as he halted.

Imagine the way Dottore halted. A different person? Of course that make sense. He and his clone may be the same but at the same time, they were not. And it was his clone you fell in love with. There might be a resemblance when it comes to him and his clone but the fact that you thought, you felt like they were different, he was different was making sense. But so what? So what if they were different? In the end, he was the one who remained, the was the original. His clone may have found you, but you found him. And that was his win.

Imagine, to your surprise. Dottore suddenly kneel down in front of you. "What are you doi-?!" When you urged when to look at you, his mask was gone, forgotten on the floor. This- this was the face of the man you love. "Little one." You felt your heart ache at his pained smile as you felt him take a hold of your hands that was resting on your lap. "I'm sorry you felt that way." The way his face sadden, his lips curling down, you felt bad to yourself. "Maybe it has something to do with my amnesia." He looked away as you looked at him wide eyes. "What?!" "No- that was a slip of tongue Little one. Do forget what I have just said." Then he stood up and was about to leave. "Perhaps you are right, Little one. Maybe we should take a break.." He sound so heart broken that it immediately snap you out of your flabbergasted state.

Imagine the way you chase after him, grabbing him by the hem of his coat just like the first time the two of you met. "Wa-wait. Dotto- Darling. What do you mean amnesia?" You sound like you were about to cry that it almost made his lips curl up. "Di-did you get hurt while you were away?" This time you thug his coat harder. "Is that why you were not able to come home to me?" You felt so bad. "Is-is that why you were acting to different? Because you lost your memories?" Then you felt his shoulder tremble causing you to panic and hug him from behind. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. Darling, I was wrong. We don't need a break, I was a fool. I'm sorry, please don't mind what I said. I did not know you have gone through such thing. If I have known I would never do such thing. I should have never doubted you, Darling."

Imagine the way he turn around and how his heart broken face. Making you feel even bad, his time hugging him, hiding your face on his chest as you cry silently, telling him sorry for saying such hurtful and stupid things. But when you felt him hug you back, you felt a little relief one to feel bad once again when you could clearly feel his shoulder trembling. Once again you murmur stings of apologies, promising you'll be by his side until the end. But in contrast to your imagination. He was not crying like you has imagined him to me. In fact he was laughing, he was laughing silently that it causes his shoulder to go up and down. A devilish smile on his lips as he pull you even closer to him. "It's alright." In contrast to his grin, his voice sounds hurt no one would ever assume it was coming from him if they were to look at his face right now. "You're forgiven, Little one. Stay by my side like you promised, hmm."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

[crimsoncandy04]

What if... Scaramouche cucking Kabukimono

(meanwhile in a parallel universe)

You never thought in a million years that it would be possible for someone to actually defeat The Traveler. But it finally happened.

And Scaramouche had finally completed his life's ambition and become the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom.

But it STILL wasn't good enough for him. Something inside of him still burned with an unquenchable thirst for vengeance. Yet he didn't understand why.

Had he not achieved everything he set out to do?

Why was he still so... unsatisfied?

And then he remembered you one night.

You who had fought so bravely until you had been dealt a near fetal blow that had caused you to become comatose and unaware of the deaths of your old friends. You who had been clever in your attacks and almost just as underhanded as him sometimes.

Scaramouche could respect it.

A little.

Your martial prowess was often overshadowed by your disgusting and burdensome sensitivity.

You didn't want to hurt people.

Not if you didn't have to anyway.

It was your weakness and eventual downfall. Because after hearing Scaramouche's own life story and sympathizing with him, you were hesitant in finishing him off like you should have.

And he had seized the opportunity.

Emotions were a scourge on the face of humanity. Making them irrational. Making them weak.

You were no exception it seemed.

At least he, in all his wisdom and glory could understand this and overcome it.

Even if it was hard sometimes.

Scaramouche continued to imagine you, scared, confused, mournful, angry, and utterly alone in your cell beneath the sanctuary. He wanted to laugh at your circumstance or at least belittle you in his mind, but that same burning and nagging feeling ended up preventing him from doing so.

What was wrong with him?

Did he perhaps... feel bad for you?

Why?

You and that pesky traveler had been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day you met.

So why, now that he had won. Had locked you away until you were healthy enough to be tried by law, did he continuously have dreams about your teary face? The deep sorrow that probably plagued your heart after learning that your friends were gone?

Why did Scaramouche... feel like he was experiencing some kind of deja vu whenever he pictured you all alone with no one to turn to?

It was that original sin of his wasn't it?

The very same feeling of empathy that had besmirched his very being since the day of his creation.

Why wouldn't it die?

It needed to.

But alas...the spirit of his former self lived on inside of Scaramouche's mind like a parasite.

And he hated how YOU triggered it.

It took a few weeks for Scaramouche to finally come up with a plan to solve both of his problems.

First was to extract the essence of his former consciousness and self via an abyssal reach that only a god could ever hope to accomplish. It had exhausted him in doing so.

But the results were better than ideal.

Secondly, use the knowledge of the world at his disposal as well as what he could remember about himself and his own inner workings to create another vessel for the extracted consciousness.

And lastly, order some attendants to retrieve you from your prison cell below and bring you to him somewhat sedated and pumped full of some new drug that had been created by the fatui for torture purposes.

Once Scaramouche laid eyes on the perfect physical replica/clone of Kabukimono as well as a half conscious and drooling you on the floor, he knew that he would leave this room with there being no more doubt in the world,

That Scaramouche was truly the most powerful being in existence.

***Time Skip***

You sit awkwardly as the machine beneath you brought you to orgasm for the 6th time in a row. The giant purple dildo thrusts in and out of your soaking wet pussy quickly, assaulting your g spot repeatedly whether you liked it or not.

All the while, the monster who had you injected with powerful aphrodisiacs and sedatives was just watching the sybian destroy your cunt with a sick delight in his eyes. You wanted to yell at him through your ball gag but instead you just continued to moan loudly as you felt yourself piss again. Even then the machine didn't stop.

Scaramouche laughed coldly as he grew bored of you and soon turned to face his former self who he had bound in a similar fashion to you just a few feet away. Kabukimono's arms were pulled tightly behind his back. Secured to his ankles, forcing his legs apart.

Scaramouche couldn't stand the pitiful and obvious longing in those eyes. Especially when he heard you scream or cry through your gag. Kabukimono's eyes would widen even more. Torn between wanting to help you, and also wanting to take you.

It was no mistake. Scaramouche knew this because even if he DID find you detestable at best, as far as human women went, you had quite a soft and sensual body that just BEGGED for someone to ravage it.

Scaramouche had considered setting it up many times in the past. Making it to where his subordinates distracted your annoying companions while he had his way with your pretty body secretly.

But he has fought those needless and lowly desires instead.

However seeing the lust in the eyes of Kabukimono, made him realize that perhaps, this attraction to you was something that he couldn't fight. Something that even his most inexperienced form was feeling whether he understood what it meant yet or not.

And if this was true, then Scaramouche would conquer these feelings too. He'd keep you as a fuck doll for himself and at the same time, show this annoying and pesky version of himself that HE was stronger.

And HE was in charge here.

Scaramouche walked over and after casting Kabukimono a withering look, he began to press his sandal against Kabukimono's shaft. Forcing his hardened cock to be uncomfortably crushed against the ground underneath Scaramouche's foot.

Kabukimono whimpered as tears began to leak from his eyes and his nipples hardened. He was aroused from the pain and Scaramouche couldn't help but feel nothing but disgust towards him for it.

"you want the girl huh?"

Kabukimono nodded quickly. His own gag stifled his voice as he groaned slightly at the sensation of Scaramouche putting more of his weight down on his dick.

"Too bad. You seriously think I would let YOU have her before ME? That I'd let you fuck her with this useless cock of yours that gets off from being crushed?"

Scaramouche chuckled wickedly. Seeing Kabukimono blush a little as he heard you cry out again. His eyes fixated on the dildo as it stretched you apart and kept you in such a lewd position with your juices coating the floor beneath you for all to see.

Scaramouche couldn't stand it.

He crouched down and grabbed hold of Kabukimono's cock. Roughly stroking it then to the pace of the toy penetrating you in front of him.

"you wish that was your cock fucking her right? Tearing her apart and making her cum?" Scaramouche taunted. Continuing to pull several soft moans from his former self as he continued to pump his own cock.

"Do you even know HOW to use this pathetic thing yet? I doubt it. That machine isn't even real and it's better than this thing between your legs."

Kabukimono's back arched a little as artificial semen suddenly squirted from his dick. Coating Scaramouche's hand. Scaramouche narrowed his eyes in disgust as he tried to shake the stuff off.

"pathetic. You actually ejaculated from that? Oh how pitiful I truly was." Scaramouche got to his feet and turned back to you. Your head had slumped back a little and tears leaked out from underneath your blindfold as another orgasm was ripped from your body. He watched you gasp and tremble as you remained helpless in your bondage. A sadistic gleam filling his indigo eyes as another idea suddenly came to him.

He knelt down again and reached out to tease your swollen clit a little as he spoke.

"get used to it doll. I could make it hurt worse. However, if you behave during the next game I have planned for you, I'll make you feel better than anyone else ever could ~" Scaramouche purred. His touch makes you squeal as you try to fight back another climax but fail miserably.

"so fragile. So many ways I could make you crumble and break. I wonder if...I could somehow make this part even more sensitive."

You feel him pinch your pleasure nub between your legs and you struggle to not pass out. What was this bastard planning next for you and his other self?

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny knew there was something off about his husband.

Tim had been staring at thier wedding photos off and on all week. He had flaked out on date night, which was rare and he had always giving a valid reason as to why. Now he won't even have a full conversation with him. What was happening? Was he being mind controlled? Blackmailed? Was he bugged? Was this a clone?

No, no. He wasn't being mind controled, he had none of the symptoms. He wasn't being blackmailed nor was he bugged, he didn't give any of thier code words for those things and a DNA sample showed he wasn't a clone

It wasn't long before he got his answer though. Danny felt tears stream down his face as he stared at the box his husband had given him. The fancy toaster displayed on the box stared back up at him innocently. So this was why. He didn't look up at Tim as he just made his way to thier bedroom and locked the door.

He needed to start packing.

----

This wasn't the first time Tim had time traveled, but finding himself in the future inside his future selfs body was weird.

Tim was confused. He had noticed the kitchen had lacked a toaster and fully acknowledging he had been kinda crappy to his future husband- God that was weird to think about- he decided to give him a gift as an apology.

Unfortunately the moment he saw the toaster sitting on the table in its box, Danny had started crying. Tim didn't know what he did wrong and his husband didn't even seem to hear him as he walked away.

After being met with a locked door Tim decided to give him space and look for answers in the computer in thier shared underground secret lab.

As it turns out, Danny has a lot of childhood trauma centered around toast. That's right. Toast.

He and his older sister were born to two absolutely insane scientists who seemed to actually forget they had children whenever they worked on a project, which was all the time. As a result these two children were left to find for themselves with little money and no idea how to cook.

So they made toast. Lots and lots of toast. Breakfast? Toast. Lunch? Toast. Dinner? Toast. So much freaking toast. School lunches were a godsend.

Danny had told Tim near the beginning of thier marriage that if he ever stopped loving him that he should just give him a toaster. Danny wouldn't ask questions and wouldn't ask for anything that wasn't his in the divorce, he would just pack up and leave.

After reading this Tim jumped out of his chair like it had shocked him and raced up the stairs.

He was too late. Danny was gone.

[awkward-tension-art]

Clones and Your Grief HC's

I’m coping with the fact that a family member died by writing headcanons for copy-paste-men. Yes, this is entirely self indulgent. Yes, I am writing based on what I had felt/gone through in the last 24 hours.

CW: Death of family member, reader is gender neutral, This isn’t proofread at all, grief, mourning, If i miss a tag lmk

Clones: Rex, Fives, Wolffe, Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair

Minors DNI

You got the call this morning. Right before you got ready for work, you got the call of your family member passing away in the night. no warning. all so sudden.

It felt like you were struck with a speeder. Then, you felt nothing. 

Logically, you knew it was shock. Your brain was overloaded, and you were unable to process. You weren't incapacitated yet, so you got up.

You have work to do.

So you went to work, shutting down and doing what you needed to do in order to make it through the day. You were in a daze the entire time. 

Time went by too fast but also too slow.

You don’t even know when you got home. You just know that you clocked out and walked into your apartment. Unsurprisingly, your clone lover, who had a key, wanted to see you that night.

He took one look at you and knew something was seriously wrong.

When you told him, the grief finally hit you. 

Rex

Will hold you, remaining silent.

He's lost brothers on the field and was forced to continue as if nothing happened. He knows why you shut down due to shock that morning.

So he understands.

He's just going to hold you tightly, and not let go until you do.

Rex is well aware that sometimes talking about it isn't going to help. So he keeps quiet and lets you speak when your ready.

He's a silent comfort. Let's you come to him if you need him to hug you, listen to you or cuddle you.

Fives

Immediately his arms are around you and he's whispering comfort

He might get teary-eyed too out of pure empathy.

He knows grief. he knows pain. and he knows what your feeling. So he wants to help you through it.

He had shut down too before, and only truly felt the emotion afterward. He gets how numbness might hit you in waves.

He'll go with you to the funeral if you want. he just wants to be by your side to help you.

Expect a lot of cuddling, honestly. He just wants to hold you and not let go until he's certain your alright.

Wolffe

He was one of 4 survivors of his entire legion getting killed. Trust me, he knows the feeling of grief.

His brothers and him all leaned on each other through their grief, and he's going to do the same for you.

He'll ask what you need, and act accordingly.

He's a steadfast shoulder to cry on. Like Rex, he doesn't talk much.

You'll have to go to him, he isn't going to push or pry. He knows if he tries to force you to feel what your not ready to feel, it'll do more harm than good.

He'll hold you, keep you close and try to give you everything you need.

Hunter

He knows something is wrong even before you walk through your door.

He's the type to try and comfort with the usual words of 'It'll be ok' or 'they're in a better place.'

If this doesn't help you much, he's flexible and patient. He'll adapt to what you need from him. Space? you got it. Closeness? he's there.

He's going to catch on very quickly if you don't eat or drink properly, so he's going to be pushy in that regard.

Hunter isn't going to let you abandon yourself because of your grief.

Like I said, he's patient and flexible, he'll do whatever he needs to help you through your grief.

Echo

He's the softest out of all of them. He's going to hold you, kiss your face and just be there for you.

Like Fives, he's extremely empathetic. He'll shed a tear just because your crying.

He'll take care of you, honestly. bring you meals, brush your hair (if you want), help you to bed, everything.

Your his heart, and he's in actual pain that your grieving.

Though, if you shut down the same way you did that morning, he's going to worry

He understands how quickly someone can spiral in grief, and he's going to move the entire galaxy to help you.

Wrecker

Like Rex, he's holding you and never letting go.

He's going to try and distract you, make jokes, get you outside into the sun, or get you moving at the very least

He won't allow you to close yourself off. He'll give you space, but he won't let you shut him down completely.

Also wants to attend the funeral with you, if you allow him. He'd be holding your hand the entire time. Though, if it's a family-only event, he understands.

He's pretty quick to pick up on what you need. You need someone to hold you? he's there. You need to get your grief-driven anger out? He's got a pipe ready and some scrap piles that need beating up.

He's going to be by your side through it all.

Tech

First thing he asks is 'What happened?'

Admittedly, he gives some standard responses, such as 'I'm sorry for your loss' and other things like that.

If it doesn't help much, he stumbles slightly. He knows your going through mourning. He knows whats happening logically. but he can't logic his way through this.

So, Tech is going to act with his gut feeling, and try his best to help and comfort you.

He does some researching and looks more into how best to help you through your grief. He's fully prepared depending on the stage of grief you've hit.

He'll talk you through the bargaining phase. Help you get your anger out. Make sure your eating and taking care of yourself through the depression phase.

He's with you, to the best of his ability.

Crosshair

He's not going to say a lot. his words are minimal at best, instead opting to physically comfort you.

He becomes...protective. more so than usual.

It's because your at an extremely vulnerable position emotionally and mentally. He'll be damned if he lets something or someone cause you any more pain and grief.

He's going to attend the funeral with you. if its family-only he's going to go anyway and remain at a distance. Practically shadow you.

Crosshair is going to be extremely sweet and soft holding you. He doesn't want you to bottle up your emotions, so he's going to just wrap his arms around you and let you cry.

Again, his comfort is more physical rather than verbal.

[leafyeyes417]

I decided to create a masterpost or two with all the reblogs that I like in hopes that when someone sends out the “help me find that post” I can find it faster. It will be added to slowly because I do not have the patience to do it all at once. Also in no particular order of preference.

Keep in mind none of these posts are my works and I do not claim them as such.

If you see *** they are really good prompts with lots of reblogs.

Will be edited later, last updated: 7-21-24

Masterlists

Multi-story masterlists

dcxdpdrabbles

Hdgnj

Tu-turu-turah

Specific Story lists

Jason is Catnip to Danny

Hyena Danny

Finally Getting Help

Wrong Robin

Badger Day

Man has needs

Almanac

Take out for Dummies

Danny is just some guy

Changling AU (part 5, other part links at bottom of post)

Fast Car Driver Danny

Haunted Car

Harmless Series

Don’t eat anything

Hero Tweets

Just a Bite

Single posts

Ellie-centric

Ellie realizes how dangerous Danny’s home is

Danny’s Rescues from the Infinite Realms

Green Lanturn & crew stuck in IR

Dead on Main

Jason courting Danny with a casserole

Overprotective Fenton parents shovel talk

Danny courts Jason by giving him wine cups made from the Joker’s kneecaps

Jason becomes a Ghost Summoner after giving Danny food***

Dream Lover***

Soulmate summoning ring gone wrong

Dead Tired

Coffeeshop accident

Dead Serious

Dead Silent

Danny kills the joker with his thighs

Danny on the run from the GIW

Superman startles Danny and gets a concussion***

Danny In Gotham

Sleepwalker Danny who escapes all traps

Unknowing Fae Danny works at coffee shop

Danny pretends to be a Vampire***

Feral McGee

Danny only gets a Vacation from work in Gotham

Danny seems like an Oracle of Delphi***

The GAV affected by Fear Toxin

Tucker streams while Danny does what Danny does in the background***

Danny is kidnapped(?) by Batman***

Danny gets hired for a money laundering front***

Portal is built in Gotham, not Amity

Naga Danny

Villain Danny

Danny’s obsession is twisted, forcing him to be a villain

Danny teaches heroes their mistakes by being the villain***

Adopted Danny (as in not Bio Fenton)

Danny is Hal Jordan’s son

Harley asks Batman to take away her son

Harvey Dent is Danny’s bio parent

Danny adopted by Bruce Wayne

Danny distribution system

Danny makes a sales pitch to join the Batfam

Reincarnated Danny

They wake up as Talons

Reincarnation

Clockwork reincarnated as Alfred

Misunderstanding’s that end in chaos

High Danny mistakes Batman for Jack

Mis-text-derstanding

Summoning Danny

Number is not in service

Danny: Please get that stalker (Ra’s) away from me

Demon Twin/Brothers

Damian is normal by Amity standards

Maybe(?) his lost twin

Nyssa steals Danny

Danny undercover in Amity

Jazz decided she wanted a brother

Tim Twins/Brothers

Danny and Tim are half-siblings

Danny sleep teleports to another dimension

Jason and Danny are brothers

Jason is a Baby ghost, adopts babier ghost Danny***

Ghost King Danny

Danny needs to take care of the Lazarus pits

Danny finds out there is a Ghost LOA

Miscellaneous

Danny possesses the president

Danny takes Jason’s online cooking class

Danny forgot what is regular human

Jack was a hitman named Phantom

Ghost Calls

Danny & Jason have the same scars

Superman was supposed to wait for the JLD

Water Core Tim

Fenton Driving curse still applies

Danny asks Wonder Woman to make him a grave on Themyscria***

Kryptonite is actually trapped souls

Danny and self-fulfilling prophecy

Danny pretends to be a demigod son of Hades

Danny gifts Red Robin a jar with Ra’s eyes

Vlad Cloning Danny was actually a much worse offense, breaks oldest ghost law

Amity got put back in the wrong place after the Pariah Dark fight.

Jason involuntarily taken to the ghost hospital

Phantom Letters

Danny learns Astral magic

Miscellaneous Angst

GIW succeeds in shooting the portal

DPxMarvel

Loki falls through to the IR and is adopted by Danny

Pure DP (not crossover)

Danny was Eldritch the whole time

Danny gets sprayed with a chemical where he hallucinates the person he hates

Demon!AU (with Art)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU... Part One:

(WARNING: Depictions and mentions of abuse, neglect, physical harm, self-harm, depictions and mentions of wounds and blood, self-harm ideation/actions, and Reader at one point is thought to be dead/almost dies. Viewers discretion is advised...) (Side note: Wolverine and Sabretooth are brothers, and their relationship is platonic, and Kurt, Kitty, Fred, Lance, and Todd join the X-Men/Brotherhood after the X-Men/Brotherhood lose Reader and have changed)

• They weren't always the way they are now. There had been a time when they were hopeful, happy, cheerful... Or maybe it was obvliousness, their subconscious the only part of them to understand that something was wrong.

• You can't remember much of anything past the age of five, but you remember some parts of your childhood. It was spent with a mutant group, ones who had taken in or had others like yourself, who were honed to be soldiers. To be unstoppable weapons. You thought they were good for the longest time. Too long, to be honest. You weren't smart back then the way you were now. You didn't understand jokes or sarcasm or much beyond facts in a book. You didn't really understand that the others, the kids and the adults, didn't like you. That they thought you were annoying. Useless. Simple. Someone not worth the effort. Someone unworthy of being with them. Someone unlovable.

• When training, you tried your best, but you weren't naturally aggressive in the way they said you should be. That for a feral mutant, you weren't much of one. You tried to be quick, tried to be kind, tried to go along with what they told you to do, who they wanted you to be. But you just... weren't that. You weren't ruthless, weren't violent, you cried when you killed a moth by accident, what was to be expected? But you still, somehow, did well enough to be allowed to stay. To not disappear. Or maybe they just couldn't be bothered to do anything about you, one way or the other.

• The kids thought you were weird. You looked weird, acted weird, talked weird. They thought you weren't bright. They certainly made jokes at your expense, you knew that, you simply couldn't understand the jokes and sarcasm they used. It hurt. It hurt, bad enough that you grew quieter, more sullen and downtrodden. You weren't as happy or talkative as you once were...

• It came to a head when you caught the ire, the hatred, of your two "mentors"... Two of the three adults ferals, the ones you heard whispers of late at night, talking about how you might be related to them, perhaps a clone... You weren't sure what you did, just that when they found you that day, you were dragged off into a lone room, given no explanation or warning. Their faces were filled with a blind rage, a freezing wrath, and the next thing you know you're being yelled at. Loud, furious roars, a tight, bruising grip on your arm, and no way out... And suddenly-

• SLASH!

• A searing pain filled your senses, and you're crying, trying to hold a hand to the wounds on your face, hoping to stop the pain, the hurt, the redredredred- They order you to stop crying, to stop wailing, or they'll give you a reason to. And so you cover your mouth as best you can, sucking in sharp breath after sharp breath, blinded by the blood dripping down your face. It stains the floor, once clean, a filthy, ugly crimson, garnet-colored ichor growing into a small puddle. They huff, but go to leave, only telling you to clean yourself up. And then they're gone, and you're on your own, and nothing is right anymore.

• Over the next two weeks, you keep your head down and stay out of everyone's way. No more talking than needed, no direct eye contact, and no being around anyone for longer than you're required. You weren't blind to it anymore, were you? That you weren't safe. That you weren't cared about. That you were alone. And with that realization, you grew to dread being near them, near the other kids and the adults and anyone else who was around. But... you had the beginnings of an idea. One that could end your suffering... It would be risky, but... At this point, you'd rather risk the threat of death than stay another day.

• It's at night when you make your move. It's quiet, dark, chilly. You aren't dressed for the weather, and you aren't prepared for whatever is out there. All you have are the clothes on your back and the boots on your feet. You make it mostly all the way, out of the compound, facility, whatever they called the place yo- they, lived in. There's snow out, thick sheets coating the ground and flakes of it dancing down from the sky. It's beautiful... You wished you could have enjoyed it, but there wasn't time to do so. You made your way from the field towards the woods, the icy dirt crunching beneath your feet...

• "Wh-? Reader, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

• And then you're running, as swift and fleet as you can, as far away as you can run. Your feet carry you through the frosty woods, stirring up small bits of snow as you race by, the wind howling around you as you flee for your life. Sometimes your feet nearly slide out from under you, having stepped onto an ice patch, but you quickly right yourself and go faster, forcing yourself to keep going no matter what you hear or how much it scares you...

• Until you eventually reach a seething, ice-studded rocky outcropping. The beginnings of a river spill over a ledge, crashing into a foaming, roaring current, twisting away into the wintery night. You're stuck. And then the worst possible thing happens- they find you.

• "Reader. Get back here. NOW."

• You take a step back, pulling your hands closer to your chest. The noise is almost unbearable, being so close to the raging water so close to you. They only take a step closer, an angry, annoyed look on their faces... "Get over here. NOW. Or you're going to be in even worse trouble." A whine hums in your throat, a pathetic sound. You take another step back, and feel a subtle shift in the rock beneath you. "That's it, I SAID-!"

• CRACK!

• The ground beneath you breaks, sending you tumbling down into the rocks and water below with only a scream as your last words. And soon, all you know is the icy touch of water filling your lungs and the sting of rocks on your skin...

• You weren't sure how you initially woke up... You weren't sure you were even alive... But with a weak, gurgling gasp, you cough up the water sitting in your lungs, gagging into the dirt as you try to hold yourself up. When you eventually finish with one last rasping breath, you crack open your eyes, looking around you. You're by the river, lying in the dirt and rocks and silt of its shore, which is surrounded by endless snow-capped trees and endless sky. And somehow... You feel a small pang of hope. You made it, after all. You weren't dead. You were... free. Of course... now you had to actually get to where people were. Find food. Maybe drink some of the water from the river...

• You weren't quite sure how long you had stayed in the wilderness, scrounging up small, half-starved animals and barely surviving the few times you tried to take on larger prey. Having your cheek ripped open by an antler and having a bear bite through your arm weren't fun experiences, but you had learned that while you could hunt some prey, the larger, more filling prey wasn't what you could go after. You'd learned plenty of things from your time alone in the wild, but your loneliness still grew. It was always festering under the surface. You were glad once you stumbled into a small town, dragging yourself through an alley to spy on the normal going-ons of humans. You hadn't really seen or met a human since before you were five, and you only had the hatred of the X-Men/Brotherhood to explain them. Which led to your decision to scout the woods around the sleepy town, to find a way to read them before you met anyone. And what a thing you found: A small, dusty yet cozy abandoned cabin, just right for you to move into.

• And so that was how your first year was spent, foraging bones and rocks from the forest and hunting animals, selling their pelts or even the whole bit of prey to make a living. You came up with a small story for any townsfolk who asked about you, saying you had an ill family parent to take care of and a relative who visited from time to time to make sure your schooling got done (it was all a lie. You had to say something, and saying you were a mutant child who escaped a dangerous group of bigger, meaner mutants was a no-go). They more or less bought it. They didn't press for any information after that besides occasionally asking if the fake family members were okay. All in all, you had been doing... alright...

• You didn't reveal anything beneath the surface of your skin. You didn't talk about your nightmares, of being back with them, of being hurt, of being laughed at, of being killed- You didn't mention how you got hurt when you hunted, how you sometimes used your own claws to do the hurting for you, slicing them through your skin until blood ran like water- You couldn't bring yourself to deal with your panic attacks, your paranoia and inner turmoil, the fact it hurt to think-

• Yet it didn't last more than three years...

• You weren't sure how they found you. You weren't sure if it was an accident, or if they knew you were alive the entire time, or if someone tipped them off. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter, because they'd stumbled on the little town and had found you within a few days. Seeing them for the first time in so long... You only felt a rising, bubbling feeling of blind fear. It didn't matter if their faces went all weird and soft, or that they tried to get near you, you didn't care- You ran, you bolted, running deep into the woods and not looking back for a second. It didn't matter what you left behind! You had to move, you had to run, you had to fleefleeflee-!

• It shouldn't have surprised you when something thunked into the earth next to you, thin and sharp and leaving an odd smell behind. It shouldn't have surprised you when your old mentors managed to find you, their eyes dark with something that wasn't hate or malice... But you didn't think it would be any better. You know a few of the others, older now than when you last saw them, are close by. You keep your claws out, your face set into a fearful snarl, ready to flee or bite or scram at a moment's notice.

• "Oh, cub... What did we do ta ya?" You do your best to keep an eye on both of them, which proves difficult. They're on either side of the small clearing, each watching you with sharp, unwavering eyes. It doesn't help that when you try to move further away, as far as you can from them, they only move towards that side, keeping themselves in your way of escaping. Their scents are off, something dark and deep and somber, not their old usual fury and annoyance. Their claws aren't out, either... It's strange, for people who want you dead... (Right? They want you dead, to kill you, right?) "Shhh... Cub... I know a lot has happened... I know yer scared, an' yer hurtin', an' I know it's our fault. I know nothin' we do er say can make up fer it... But... please... please give us a chance ta help ya. Please... all we want is ta help ya. All we want is ta give ya what we should've from the beginnin'..." Your eyes dart between them fearfully, a soft whine building in your throat. This is worse than your nightmares. This is your nightmares come to take you back. And you can't have that.

• You try to dart out of the clearing, trying to dodge past the hands that go to grab you-

• But large, warm hands grab the back of your shirt, tugging you back into an iron grip. "Cub, calm down, please! We promise ya we aren't gonna hurt ya! Yer safe, yer okay, yer not gonna be hurt-" You don't pay it any heed, kicking and scratching and biting at what you can, doing everything in your power to break free from the arms keeping you captive. It does nothing. All that happens is the arms tightening and a flurry of panicked words filling the air. "Kid, cub-! Just, calm down fer one minute! We can talk this out-! Please, ya gotta stop fightin' us, ya gotta stop fightin' me! I know yer scared, I know, just, please-!" It doesn't matter what either man says, as all it earns from you is a fearful scream as you struggle harder. The scents around you are rife with sorrow, salty and cold and damp like earth after rain. You hear a wounded noise come from them, but you don't stop your attempt to escape the hold on you. A long, hurt sigh whooshes out, followed by the hold on you pinning you further.

• "I'm so sorry, cub... But we can't let ya keep goin' on like this. Yer hurtin' yerself. And we just can't let that happen."

• And just like that... something presses into your flesh, a sharp sting, which is gone just as quick. A hiss escapes you, your hands suddenly clawing so you can feel at where you were stung. "Shhh... don't worry, cub... It's justa small sedative... It won't hurt ya, all it's gonna do is make ya all sleepy an' tired..." Your eyes widen, then with a small shriek you try to tug yourself away. You can already feel the drug seeping in, a buzz at your skin and thoughts. The more you struggle, the more your thoughts cloud up, earning more movement from you as you do your best to snap out of it. Something akin to a sob breaks loose from you as your tugs and scratching grows weaker, the drug nestling into your system and numbing your limbs. Your mind keeps growing more muddled, thick and soft and syrupy... A hiccup pushes past your lips, being met by a hand patting lightly at your hair. It's weight feels good, the warmth sending you deeper into your tired state. When you try to speak, the words leave you, turning into a sleepy mumble, your body slumping into the hold around you. Everything feels quiet... barely there... So soft... So calm... Hardly any thought stays inside you as your breaths soften, the fear and fight leaving you as you stumble into unconsciousness...

• "Good cub... Just go ta sleep... We'll help ya feel better, that's it..."

• They're careful, one of them holdin' their kid while the other alerts the others, letting them know they have Reader with them and that they had to use a sedative to calm 'em down. It feels so surreal, seein' their once bright kid so... tired. So scared. So hurt. Bein' near 'em, even tha other teens, scared them enough that they were runnin' inta freezin' weather, all ta stay away from 'em. But... They can't let 'em go. Not again. The last time they let 'em go, they thought they died (maybe they actually did, and only came back due to their small healing factor...). They hurt them, they terrified them, they were tha reason they were afraid, the reason they were hurtin'. And now the kid was hurting themself. Was causing themself pain, with no one ta stop them er help them er let 'em know they'd be alright. They'd be d*mned if they let it continue. They'd be worse than dead if they left 'em ta wilt away on their own, ta slip off inta the blinding snow once more... They might have ta keep them calm, make it so they're relaxed enough so they can help them... But they'll do anything, just ta keep them alive. Ta make them feel loved. Ta be their family. And this time, they're gonna do it right...

[stargirl-writes]

heal

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 3.5 k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

in which anakin skywalker chooses to run away with you before all is lost in mustafar.

tags : au, angst!!, hurt/no comfort

warnings : toxic love, dark fic, ptsd, and reader being so dependent on anakin, suicidal behavior

notes : my reader character being a healer is my self indulgent insert 😭

i've sat w this 4 so long cause i was like 'realistically, what would happen if anakin ran away?' and i think i've finally made up my mind abt it.

time is moving fast for this fic because i wanted to cover so much, so heads up for the skips!

ALSO, ear-ringing apologist perspective. if u can't handle reader being blind to faults, this is not for u haha!

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. 

At least, it was something you want believed in.

The clone war that raged on revealed just how much people can be persuaded to do horrible things when their survival is at stake.

You underestimated that instinct yourself. The burning desperation to not lose your Anakin Skywalker. You thought, you would have killed for him, the way he would for you.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one to tell you how Anakin became irredeemable.

It was a blur how you flew to Mustafar despite it. You needed Anakin to admit to it, you needed to take him away from what he'll become.

The crimes he committed made you feel sick, septic like a festering wound.

But, whether you love what you love.

Or live in divided ceaseless revolt against it, what you love is your fate.

You've been so alone. So much so, you can only define a time with Anakin, and without him.

It was gradual. It couldn't have been some higher power that destined you to him, He had been a General of a war, and you, the Healer. It was all odds, that you fell in the right place at the wrong time.

An unwilling hero, and a glorified murderer.

He was crafted to be a tool in the war. Divinely created by the Force with the purpose of bringing balance. And in a war, that meant doing damage, killing.

Every victory he had was a stark contrast to yours.

Every life he takes, be it a droid or a separatist, is a win. And every life you lose is a name added to the long list of casualties.

You and Anakin were opposites.

So, the shock of it remains, because somehow along the way, Anakin loved you. And you loved him. You had each other to cling to.

The terror of What if it doesn't last, What if there's no one else? What happens if it goes back to being alone? persists.

And you might not belong anywhere else.

But you were his. As he is yours. Not in the manner of possession. Yours in the way of devotion.

Mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love.

You knew that Anakin's love was conditional. You were only the one in front of him. You didn't misunderstand. You let him use you anyway.

It's not like you were loving him unconditionally, it was because you were terrified to be lonely.

At least, in the beginning, you believed so.

Most days were occupied by your duties. And Anakin would love you in a way that is shaped like fingers wrapped around a throat. Incessant. Hungry. Teeth deep in possession. Making up for the little time, holding you against him as if he was bracing himself that someday you won't be around.

It felt like he was always saying goodbye.

So, though your heart was nearly breaking out of your ribs, you flew by yourself to Mustafar.

A pile of lifeless Separatist figures greeted you in horror.

It was true. Anakin had gone to the dark side. What he did with those children... 

The fear consumed you like a corrosion, but still, you stood in front of him, begging him to come back.

Anakin had carried a deep malaise when you had found him. It was almost emanating from his blood-stained robe, a coldness, a deadly assurance.

"You're not supposed to be here," Anakin says in a strangled voice. His hands firmly holding your arms.

The color of his eyes startled you. It was like looking at a ghost, and all that was left was an unending rage. You fought to not let your fear swallow you.

"Anakin, we have to go" Your lips quivered, not entirely sure what you were planning.

There will never be escaping the things he's done.

You want him to go away with you, anyway.

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. 

For a while, it was quiet. Anakin's glossy blue eyes were gazing at you, in conflict, and begging to be understood.

"I can't... Don't you see? I've restored justice to the galaxy" He abruptly lets go, and turns, concealing his face away from your sight. "The things I've done... I can't, there's no running away from it"

The guilt he feels leads him to think that the only path now is through the one he sacrificed his morality for.

"No," you struggled, voice failing to hide your anguish. "Anakin, you can't let this be your fate. Run away with me." You pleaded, eyes filled with tears.

A life of loneliness. With no one, the way it used to. 

Then, Anakin half turns. He surveys your willingness to take him as he is. Maybe, even wanting to believe it.

You have always loved Anakin, even the parts you have not understood.

Perhaps, this was the similarity that bound you together. Burning devotion. One that allows you to see past your moral code.

You gave so much to the war. You'd run yourself spent from the hours. You fought so hard to keep people from dying. You'd never taken anything but this. A chance at life. Away from it all.

"I would've done anything you asked of me" His voice reveals his devastation.

You stepped forward, "Then come with me, Leave it all behind, I need you"

You held your breath, half convinced that this may very much be the end of things.

But Anakin takes your hand, and you don't waste a minute more to take him away in your ship.

Your hands shook the entire time.

The galaxy was silent when the war ended.

Mace Windu's attempt to assassinate the Chancellor made the Jedi an enemy of the Empire.

It triggered an Order that made clone soldiers turn against their Generals. The Jedi are hunted down for treason.

You and Anakin will never find security again.

The atmosphere was thick with emotions that were strained by the abruptness of events. It was making it so much harder to breathe. To live with the truth of it.

All three years of the war are reduced to two moments; Anakin falling into Palpatine's manipulation, and Anakin choosing to run away with you.

You caught yourself slipping away. Tucked in a corner of your mind where you can feel safe.

The healer's oath replays in your mind, the cruelest reminder.

Blind to faults, blind to good. Serve to save, not to see.

As the jedi healer, you weren't allowed to deny patients. You wondered whether that played into role when you stomached all the horrible things Anakin did.  Serve to save, despite, despite, despite...

You landed in a remote place on your home planet of Hapes.

It was a secluded cabin that you used to go to when you were younger. Surrounded by a lake that stretches as far as your eyes can see. It was the first thing that came to mind when you set your ship on autopilot.

Anakin was quiet the entire time.

You, too, became paralyzed by the events that has unraveled.

For a few days, it remained like that.

Though the event has passed, your body can't quite regulate.

It still feels as though someone will find you. And take Anakin with them. You knew your hypervigilance was a consequence of your trauma, but knowing doesn't mean you can let the feeling go.

Even Anakin responds to mild stressors as if he was still in the war. He'd not let you off his sight the first few weeks.

You felt as though Anakin was trying to process everything in his mind. And you grew terrified of his growing silence. Knowing Anakin meant knowing his tendencies to vacillate violently. The reality of what he had done would set and it'd twist into something septic. An unending shame.

You were convinced that he'd have killed himself from it.

But then he'd stare at you deeply as if he was committing you to memory. He'd coddle your face in his palm. He'd hold your hand, hands that are capable of so much rage, and so much tenderness. He'd hold you tight against him in bed, the way he used to.

He can't quite communicate it through words yet, so he'd rely on his touch to let you know that he was still here. Your anxieties eased after. He needed to detangle it on his own. You'd be there whenever he is ready.

Obi-Wan Kenobi appears the next month.

It was through luck that you were the one to open the door.

You knew Obi-Wan would want Anakin to answer for the crimes he's committed.

You won't let him.

"What do you want?" You say cautiously. Stepping forward to the Jedi Master to stop him from entering your new home.

Obi-wan furrows his eyebrows at your action. He gazes at you for a moment before speaking up. "You know what he's done, [Name]"

"The Republic has fallen. The system that replaced it won't hold him to what he's done. It's the very reason for its existence, anyway"

Obi-Wan's eyebrows flashed hearing your words. It seemed as though you'd be the last person he'd expect to exhibit such... heartlessness.

"And what, do you intend to keep him here forever?"

You looked down, fiending an expression of indifference you learnt from Anakin.

"I'm more selfish than he is"

Obi-Wan sighs. There were no more Jedi Council to hold Anakin accountable. You wonder if Obi-Wan had gone looking for him out of the responsibility he felt he had. You could use that.

"If you have any love left for Anakin, You'll leave him with me" You persuaded.

Obi-Wan sharply looks at you. You knew he was being torn apart by his mind and heart.

The door swings, revealing Anakin who appears behind you.

Anakin's arm extends to put you behind him. Obi-Wan was caught, stricken by the sight of his apprentice. You held on to Anakin's forearm.

You held your breath.

Then, Obi-Wan opens his arm to hug Anakin.

Anakin froze, perhaps not expecting his Master to embrace him after...

He turns his head to look at you, then back to his Master. And he reluctantly wraps his arm around Obi-Wan.

You exhaled finally.

You saw Obi-Wan's glossy eyes as he pulled away. He may not forgive Anakin for all the things he's responsible for, but his love for him surpasses all the anger he has.

Gaining his master's acceptance, Anakin became recognizable once more.

However, Obi-Wan could not stay. Perhaps, he's grown sick of stomaching the love he had for Anakin. It was not an easy feeling to be fond of.

When Obi-Wan left, Anakin finally came to you.

It hauntingly paralleled the moment he broke down after he lost his mother. After he gave in to his rage. Only this time, he didn't hold the pose of defiance and came undone, weeping for what he'd done.

You held him and told him that what matters now is what he'll choose to do.

And in the months that come, Anakin has fought to deserve your forgiveness.

He wanted to earn your love.

As a healer, your experience with foraging natural medicine made you more equipped to build a sustainable life. In six months, you were able to make this house by the lake a place to call home.

But, Anakin is being dragged through time. He'd do his best to help, but you can feel his... silence. The weight of it, this was not the life he was groomed to have. He has always lived off the adrenaline. The absence of it makes him constantly feel as though he is at the other end of the high.

It'd worry you whenever he comes home late from a hunt. He's always been reckless, that much hasn't changed. He'd come home covered in tissue deep cuts, bruised muscles, and a dead-pan look in his eyes. It was a topic that you tried to communicate— and a topic Anakin would respond defensively to.

"It's nothing" He'd dismiss whilst you were dressing the wound.

You'd press the clean gauze over his skin, on the brink of anxiety. He'd wince and take the gauze from your hand.

And you'd stand up and leave, because your patience would have run out by then.

It upset you how he always stands on a cliff to wait for the winds to swoon him over because he won't jump, he won't make that decision himself.

Your breaths were shallow as you tried to calm down after yelling about how his passivity over danger was eating at you. You needed him to try. Because you can't save him on your own.

"I'm sorry" Anakin looks down, receding. " I just don't know how to do this" He admits, eyes wide, childlike, helpless.

And you thaw, breaths shallow as you fought to not cry from the anger.

"Anakin, if you don't..." You began, looking down at the ground as if the words would appear before you there. "if you don't want this anymore, you can go"

Because the entire year you have spent in this cabin, it felt like time has frozen. You hoped that in time, you and Anakin would find the courage to move past the war. Of course, it was futile, you can never take back what you've given to the effort.

Whatever is left of you and Anakin is all there is now. And sometimes, it feels like there is nothing. Just ghosts of who you once were. You weren't sure if being with you was making any difference at all.

You were selfish, but not enough to keep him as he wastes away. You'd let him go, even if it'd cripple you forever.

Anakin grabs both of your shoulders firmly, forcing you to look up to him.

"Why do you think I came with you?" Anakin's voice was stern. His eyes fixed, determined to imprint words to your heart.

You held on to his arm, swallowing your anguish. "I only meant that if I'm not doing you any good, you should—"

"And where would I go?" He interrupts, unrelenting.

"I don't know" You admitted. You're ruining him. You've done this to him. You should let him go.

His grip loosened, and his lips kept opening and closing as if he was eating up the words before letting it leave his mouth.

"—I'm trying, [Name]"

"I'm giving you my life, I don't have anything larger to give" His voice breaks, and his head dips. "I'm trying" he repeats.

You felt his tears warm against your clavicle. Your fingers tangling with his hair.

"I know, Ani" You coo gently. "We'll try together" You promised.

It was becoming clearer that he was alleviating his sins by trying to kill the entity that once controlled him. It was also becoming harder to see a monster when all you see is Anakin, the love you abandoned everything for.

Anakin, who was sold as a slave, and then freed, only to be chained to another lifelong servitude through the Jedi. Anakin, who was dropped in the middle of a war, and made responsible for a child whilst being a child himself.

The Jedi Order relied on his nature of winning, despite not agreeing with his tactics. He'd be patronized for his violence, which his life would soon be defined by. Anakin's worst action is murder, the same way his best action is murder. Because if he doesn't answer to the shots fired, he'd be the one receiving them.

He was never afforded any space to become anything else.

Except when he's with you.

Anakin can become cruel, the same way he is loving. Two truths can exist at the same time.

And with the months that flew by, you watched as Anakin continually chose to not let his darkness define him.

You were learning things about him that you couldn't have had during the war. The way he neatly keeps inventory of his tools. The intense focus in his eyes when he is concentrating. The way the wood creaks— the cadence of his steps. All committed to memory because no one else can know him the way you do.

He told you, you saved him. And you wept, unsure whether what you did was really an act of selflessness.

Living with him became easier. No more effort to try to gain his love. No approval, no admiration to attain. There is no role to play, no one to convince. Just, being. There was so much time, and the only thing that mattered was; how long do we have each other?

Most days, Anakin would carry his grief so well, that you'd forget it was even there. He'd work to minimize it, to live with it. However, when the dark comes, he has no control over his dreams. and the overwhelming shame and guilt seep.

It had been two years when you woke up abruptly to find the space beside you empty.

You grabbed your robe, the cold midnight air felt crisp against your skin. Finding Anakin was easy. He'd always wander towards the edge of the lake, staring at the moons.

"It's cold, Ani, come back to sleep" You urged, but Anakin's gaze was far away.

He has chopped some of his hair, and it looked the way it used to during the war. It startles you sometimes to remember how young he still was.

"I had a dream" He speaks softly, arms finding a way to snake around you so he'd press you against him. "It felt as real as you now" His gaze lands on you.

It terrified you to ask, but you did anyway.

"We had a child"

Oh.

You chuckled in surprise. Stepping back to process what he said. It just never seemed to occur to you, then. Though you have never dismissed the idea, it just felt like you were barely surviving to try to raise a child.

Anakin smiles when he realizes he made you flustered. "Good thing it was only a dream?"

You let out a breathless laugh, somehow relieved that Anakin was not seriously considering it.

"Yes," You weren't ready. You may never find it in yourself to ever be ready.

"We're not bringing a child now, not like this"

Anakin's expression melts, "Yes, the empire is growing stronger" His guilt resurfaces.

"I never imagined it to be like this for us," He thinks out loud,

"We have to make the best of what we have" You sigh.

"I've been thinking" Anakin begins, "maybe, there is still something that can be done"

You try steadying your breath, somehow bracing yourself for this moment; when he'll want to fight again.

It was everything he was made for. You knew that, you just didn't think it'd be in under a short period.

Something was screaming inside you. A fear, that you thought had gone when you ran away with Anakin. It was telling you that you were going to lose him. And you, selfishly, want to stop him. He can't... if he goes, he'll die. And you can't even begin to imagine what'll happen to you if he dies.

"How?" You asked despite yourself.

"Ahsoka mentioned something about a rebellion," He says, voice thick with something he hasn't had before. Hope.

"The galaxy needs changing" He steps forward.

You shook your head, overcome by the anxiety of it. "Anakin, I'm never going back"

He turns on his heel, eyes narrowed at your proclamation. "I didn't ask you to come back"

You tilt your head, "Of course, you weren't" Though you knew you were being unfair, just the idea of it was sending stress already.

Anakin's eyebrows knit. "I'm only thinking out loud, it's one thing to consider it but another to act on it" He defends.

Though, you know this is where it begins. And you were responding defensively because you knew where it would lead.

Anakin will forever feel as though he has to restore the galaxy to how it was before he helped destroyed it. It won't be long until he'd despise himself for choosing to stay here with you. Especially since it's been drilled into him that he's supposed to be the one to bring balance to the force.

Whether he loves you or lives in a divided ceaseless revolt against it, what he chooses to love is your fate.

His purpose or you. 

Going would give him his closure.

Going would anchor you to the hells of your biggest fear.

"Anakin, please don't go where I can't follow" Your voice broke, begging. It was selfish to want to keep him for the second time.

And you weren't sure whether your love would be enough for Anakin to stay.

Not when it only brought him here, a home by the lake, forever standing on thin ice that always threatened to break under.

You were living under the false pretense of security. All of this, the house, the lake, the isolation, are reminders that you and Anakin will never go back to normalcy, no matter how much you pretend.

A knife may dull, but its purpose remains to cut.

Anakin's expression softens and he presses his lips on the temples of your forehead.

You were slowly understanding that the entire galaxy's fate was carried inside Anakin Skywalker.

The chosen one.

Every decision he made was informed by that pressure. No matter how personal, it always builds to a path that he can't control, because it's already laid out for him.

Created by the force, to be used by the force.

So you can't find the heart to be angry when he left.

You decided it would be hopeless to try to stop him. Anakin has this view that everything in his life, he has to work to earn. To deserve.

Even this... freedom that you have.

He has to contribute to it, in this perverse grandiose action as to fight the Empire. So he can accept that you do indeed love him.

He has to seize this opportunity with Ahsoka. He is more autonomous of his power now. He is once again engaging in something that's risking his life. He can fulfill his destiny.

It didn't make it any less painful.

You had to inspire confidence in him, otherwise, he'd doubt. So, you pushed all your feelings away and smiled when you kissed him goodbye.

You never left the war. The two years you stole were only stalling the inevitable. Perhaps, two years was too generous.

"Bring him back, please" You took Ahsoka aside. Ahsoka nods uncommitedly. For, she won't promise what she can't deliver.

And once again, you have found yourself alone.

He swore he'd have done anything for you.

Just not this one.

His belief that he has no inherent right to life; and has to work to earn anything made you feel as though you were his... prize. A trophy. In which he'd fight for to retain but not value enough to take care of.

He should've stayed. It's good he left.

Because now that you have nothing, you're finally able to detangle how Anakin doesn't love you. Not in the way you thought. Anakin loves that he has you.

You have always put his wellness first, that now, when you are not so worried by walking carefully around his hurt, you are able to feel yours.

Perhaps, losing Anakin was good. You can finally put yourself first. Whilst he still seeks answers in the past

There is no going back to the way it was. You tried living 'normally' and it just became a bitter reminder that you are forever changed.

Acceptance of that and lending yourself a little more compassion might just be the beginning of your healing.

footnote

i'm obsessed with the writing style where authors strikes through the text ! it's such a smart way to imply that the character that's narrating is choosing not to allow those thoughts and so it looks like it's been scribbled out .

also, quoting ka applegate on relationships not lasting outside the war :

"wars don't end happily. not ever. often relationships that were central during war, dissolve during peace. some people who were brave and fearless in a war are unable to handle peace, feel disconnected and confused. "

[dragonrider9905]

“Touch **, and you’re dead.” With Wrecker

Night Gone (Not Totally) Wrong 

Summery:On your way home....things go horribly wrong. But when a big, strong clone comes to your rescue, it causes you to reconsider. Did your night go horribly wrong after all?

Warnings: Little violence. Self depcrecation. mentions of drinking.

Celebrating You Masterlist

Hello dear Anon!!!! Sorry it took me so long to get this out. I wanted to do well on it and life things came up which I had to settle...I hope it was worth the wait! Enjoy!

Huge shout out and thank you to @arctrooper69 for beta reading this story for me!!! Thank you for your suggestions and helping quell my uncertainty after not writing for so long!!!!! <3

You made your way through the streets of Coruscant, trudging along the lonely, empty ally. It was all dark, except the crumbs of light from neon signs and stores, which fell from the busy streets above where the city was lively with music and laughing, drunken men. 

You hated coming this way, especially this late at night, but there was nothing you could do about it. Your normal way home was blocked off by an accident which you could tell would take hours to clear up. Your alternate route was under construction, and so was constricted. Your second alternate route was so out of the way due to military lanes now reserving important pass ways you might as well stay at school overnight. Your third option was you could walk up by the bars, but you didn’t want to do that. Last time, you almost got hit by three different speeders! And hit on, by multiple, unstable beings. Which you have to say, you preferred being hit by the speeders than that. 

But the chill in the still air down here sent a shiver up your spine, which wasn’t related to the cold. Every step you took, filled you with dread and regret that you’d come this way. Amazing how the yearning to get home, and your exhaustion, overroad all sense of urgency, caution, and warning at the time. Now, you were wishing you hadn’t silenced that inner voice. Nope, from now on, you would let it scream and talk and shove this experience in your face so you wouldn't repeat it again. 

Your eyes darted too and fro. Every sound echoing in the ally, and in your ears and brain. You turned sharply to see what they were only to find a womprat knocking over a bottle and the clicking and prattling of tiny feet as it scurried away.

Sighing in relief, you turned around again, still hugging yourself despite the moment of levity. 

“Well, that was certainly nothing to be afraid of.” You huffed, scolding yourself. 

“That wasn’t, but I am.” A deep, gurgling voice growled at you. 

Your body froze, and you slowly turned around to see a masked humanoid step out of the shadows. 

“Try to run, I dare you.”

Your scream pierced the air. As you turned in panic, an electrocord wrapped itself around your ankle. With another scream, you fell to the ground with a hard thud. You let out a sob and a groan at once. Your knees were bruised and your hands were scraped. 

The figure made its way toward you, hand extended with a blaster. You tried to scramble away but a shot of pain from your ankle paralyzed you. 

With wide eyes, you watched your attacker’s steady, slow strides make their way ever closer to you. The gap thinning significantly by the second. 

Then, a flash of blue blinded your eyes and the sound of his blaster clanking a distance away made you gasp. 

“Touch her, and you're dead.” A strong, scratchy voice boomed behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the voice belonged to a large, burly man who towered above you and even your attacker. He had one false eye and his head displayed scarred flesh in the form of a star. He stared menacingly at the man and took two quick steps for you. 

Your attacker screamed at the incoming giant and fled the scene, all bravado gone. 

The man's scowl turned soft and he knelt down to where you were quivering and shaking. 

“Are ya alright there? Did he hurt ya?”

Your eyes were still wide with fear, and your limbs still felt paralyzed. You couldn’t move anything. You just hugged yourself and heaved. 

“I-I-I” you stuttered, struggling with your breathing. If you weren't so shaken, you'd be angry at your inability to get your words out. “I–”

“Don't worry, it'll be ok. I'll get you home.” he interrupted, gently. 

He looked you over and spotted the twisted ankle. 

“Oh, that looks like it hurts.” 

“I-it does.” You said curtly, hissing at the pain that started to crawl up your leg into your kneecap. You dug your fingernails into the gravel below you, trying to convince yourself that it actually did something to relieve the pain. 

“The name's Wrecker.” 

You hummed in reply, acknowledging that you registered what he said. You couldn’t tell if he was being polite or just trying to distract you with conversation. Probably both. You didn’t care enough to differentiate how you felt about it. 

“May I?” 

With a nod of your consent, ‘Wrecker’ scooped you up, and lifted you in his arms carrying you out of the alley. 

He continued to talk; marveled at the uncanny ease of his strength, nonchalance and conversation, you couldn't tell if it was to set you at ease or if that was just how he was.

“We'll get my brother, Tech, to look at that ankle of yours. He’ll know a safe way to remove that thingy without hurting ya more. He's smart and good at everything. He makes a good field medic. I know from experience.” He indicated his head with a nod and laughed. “I got it when I, uh, started messing with explosives in the beginning of our formation. I gathered a whole bunch of ‘em and lit up the entire base! Hunter didn't think it was funny but I thought it was awesome.” 

He laughed at the memories. “If Crosshair hadn't won the bet, he'd have been way angrier, I'm sure. I tried telling him it's the same with that height thingy he pulls. It's worth the risk, even though it's dangerous. It's freaking fun.”

He chatted on as if you knew the people in the stories, never offended by your lack of laughter or reactions. 

You stared straight ahead, hearing but not registering half his stories. You were sure that you'd enjoy them normally but the shaking wasn't going away. Your breathing was still off and your throat closed off by unshed tears. You wanted to cry so badly. Oh how stupid you'd been. All you wanted was to get home. You were hungry and exhausted, and thoroughly run-through by your life. You deserved what you got for being so stupid…

“Hey, it's ok. Cry it out. Hunter says it's good for you, or at least that's what he tells me. But you're not stupid. Don't ever think that. You're going through a lot but it sounds like you've been brave.” 

You jolted, mouth agape, starting at Wrecker for the first time with wide eyes. You didn't mean to say that out loud…

But Wrecker continued to look kindly but seriously at you. There was no jocularity in his manner now. 

“Don't downplay yourself. Anyone can make stupid mistakes. Happens. It's only when we let them get the better of us that they win.” 

You swallowed hard and looked down. 

“But I–” 

“None of that now.” Wrecker smiled big. “It’s war, even on comfy Coruscant! Sometimes ya have to do things ya wouldn’t otherwise do.”

You were silent for a bit before you spoke again. 

“It was my fault, Wrecker, I could have been more careful…how’d you find me?”

“Hm, well, I heard ya scream. My brothers and I were just at 79’s up there.” He indicated a higher level above. I was on my way back to the ship. I just jumped down here to see what it was.”

Wrecker arrived at a lift and kicked the lever to make it go up. 

“Better question for ya, why’d you trust me?”

He looked at you curiously. 

“Well, you have clone armor on…Clones are good…trustworthy…from my experience.”

Your face heated and you looked away again, with the contrast of your face to your body, you realized how cold you were for the first time. You shivered and tried to warm yourself. 

Wrecker noticed and readjusted you so your position was a little bit more close to a cradle, his arms creating a better shelter from the wind. 

The lift came to a jolting stop. 

When Wrecker stepped from the lift, you were met by three figures. You drew closer to Wrecker, fright returning, until Wrecker called out excitedly at the meeting. Ah, these must be the brothers from the stories. 

“Ah, I see you’ve returned.” One man adjusted his goggles. “We were about to come and fetch you. You were approximately twelve seconds over what you said you’d be.”

“Uh, I underestimated how far down it was…” his nose twitched and he switched his attention from his brother to you. “This is Tech! He’s the one that can fix you up!” 

‘Tech’ took one glance toward the ankle and back up at Wrecker. 

“It’s simple, Wrecker, really —”

“Where do you live, kid?” the one with the half-faced skull interrupted. “It’s late and we’ll get you home. Tech, you can give them the proper run down of how to fix it when we get there.”

“Next street over.” 

He nodded and jumped in the speed-car along with the others. Tech prattled on alongside you, Wrecker quiet for the first time, but he never removed his gentle eyes from your face. When you acknowledged his spying, he’d turn away embarrassed and pretended to be looking at something else, all red in the face. This little gesture made you smile a bit. The one with the sniper rifle stayed behind you, arms crossed and annoyed. He hadn’t said one thing. You vaguely wondered if you’d done something to offend him in the past, but he didn’t seem too concerned about your existence at all, so you thought perhaps that’s just how he was. 

The moments seemed shorter the closer you got to your home, a part of you wishing it’d drag on a little longer so you wouldn’t have to leave Wrecker’s arms. It was absurd of you, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. You’d only just met the man, but for the first time, you felt safe in the galaxy of danger. Wanted in a world of love – a place you always felt excluded from. Now, you understood the old holo-films you used to make such fun of. 

Before you knew what happened, you found yourself sitting on your couch, Tech binding your ankle. 

You didn’t remember blankly telling the boys directions to your apartment, nor Wrecker gently lifting you up and carrying you over the threshold to your home. Nor did you notice the exceedingly worried look he was giving you and his brother. 

“Is she ok?”

“She’s fine, Wrecker. She’s had a traumatic moment. She’s spacing out as a form of processing what happened. She’ll come to.” 

“T-hank you. I appreciate all that you boys have done for me.” You slurred when another bolt of pain jolted you into the present. You hated how your tongue felt like sand and mouth filled with mud. You shook your head to clear your mind. 

“No problem, ma’am.” Skull face said with a nod. “Glad you’re alright. If there’s anything more for you before we go….”

“No, thank you. Have a good trip back!” 

They all nodded their heads respectfully with a ‘good night’ and filed out the door. 

Sitting in the silence, your face heated. What the kriff? How could you have been so rude! You should have asked them if they wanted something to eat, drink, or something! What if you never saw them again? 

The idea made you freeze. 

Never see them again? 

Never seeing Wrecker again?

He was so kind, sweet, gentle yet strong. The who night he only treated you as a gentleman would. You didn’t want him to leave your life forever. Not when you’d just found each other. A knot formed in your throat and tears sprung to your eyes.

Nope, you couldn’t have that. You swallowed hard. Things made sense and didn’t at the same time. Your stomach all churned up. Is this what people called butterflies? 

If so… Why were you just sitting there? You had to do something, and quick!

Hopping on one foot, you fumbly raced to the door. Grasping and sputtering (perhaps with some curses about how out of shape you felt), you lunged for the door, grasping the handle and yanking it open.

“Wait! Wrecker! Wait!!!! Here’s my comm number!” You waved a piece of flimsy (you didn’t remember writing) in the air. “Call me maybe?” You looked at the note to double check you wrote the correct numbers in the correct order. Yup, all good. 

Wrecker jogged back to the door, first confused by your outburst but then a small grin made its way from ear to ear.

 “You betcha I will!”

 He excitedly took your number and lifted his commlink to his mouth. 

“Hope ya feel better! Can I come over tomorrow to check on ya?” 

With the rush of blood to your ears at your blush, you almost – almost – missed a sly, foxy voice you hadn’t heard before shout in glee.

“I told you they’d exchange numbers before the night was over. You owe me ten credits, Tech. Don’t forget the double or nothing he’d see her again in the next week. Pay up, bud.” 

Divider by @djarrex and @vet-iv-er

[enigmaticexplorer]

Let Me Love You - Part I

Masterlist | Next Part

General Summary. An opportunity to expand your grandmother’s business brings you to Coruscant and a chance-encounter with Commander Fox. Friendship is your intent. But feelings grow, and with them, renewed fears. 

Pairing. Commander Fox x female!OC

General Warnings. Self-esteem issues; intimacy issues; trust issues; explicit sexual content. 

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Word Count. 2.4K

A/N. Happy Kinktober! My kink is the hyper-independent FMC who’s convinced she’s incapable of being loved, and the confidently-patient MMC resolved to prove her wrong.

Also, this story wouldn't exist without @/dystopicjumpsuit's In the Matter of Marshal Commander Fox vs. the Stocking Kink, the Court Finds the Defendant Filthy. There is zero correlation between the two, but DJ's one-shot reminded me how much I love Fox. And thus, this story was born.

9 Yelona, Zhellday

Autumn on Coruscant elapsed like the other seasons of the year—controlled temperature, heavy traffic, and malodorously polluted air. The environment was a stark contrast to your home planet, Lefaepa. 

With its fields of amber, and its hills of autumnal red, and its valleys speckled with clumps of asters and sunflowers, Lefaepa was the planet to visit for the annual Harvest Festival. 

It was a tradition that dated back ten thousand years. Month-long festivities concluded on the 35th when everyone gathered in their local towns and shared the reaping of their harvest. 

The communal and unevolved technological aspects of Lefaepan culture set it and its neighboring systems apart from the rest of the galaxy. “Backwater,” they were called. “Archaic.” 

But the Lefaepans didn’t care. They were so far removed from galactic societal expectations and dictations that the opinions of those located billions of kilometers away hardly mattered. What do the people who live in cages know? they laughed among themselves.

You missed it—your home, the silence at night, the fresh air with its honeysuckle breeze. 

Since you first arrived on Coruscant two years ago, you’ve returned home twice for the Harvest Festival. Your parents appreciated the extra help on the farm, and you enjoyed the pitchers of apple cider, the twangy music, and the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables. 

This year, however, you were missing the festivities. An argument with your mother left you too raw to visit home. No matter how much your heart longed for the stars and your soul yearned for the quiet of those red hills, your pride kept you away. Your mother had gone too far this time. 

Her constant pressure to settle for the first man who gave you attention—her constant remarks that you weren’t “getting younger”—had coalesced into a resentment unbreakable. Even now, three weeks after your argument, a bitter taste filled your mouth. Ire clenched in your jaw. 

Was it not enough that you had performed well in university? 

Was it not enough that you had expanded your grandmother’s business?

Were you not enough on your own?

Conflicting thoughts clashed within your mind, a war raging. 

Swords clanging—an adamant acceptance of your independence. 

Cannons blasting—a defiant roar against your mother’s comments and interferences. 

Arrows piercing armor—a desperate, silent plea for someone to see you, to believe you were enough to be loved.

Over time, many battles were fought. 

For weeks, the armies fell quiet, re-strategizing, allowing you a moment of peace. And then they surged forth, a surprise attack spurred by your mother or your insecurities or—

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

The voice plucked you from your spinning thoughts and you recoiled, looking up from the thin coin you were cleaning. Weaving his way through the glass cases of artifacts strolled a man in red armor: helmet tucked beneath an arm, curly hair close-cropped, groomed stubble faintly shadowing his jaw.

A member of the Corrie Guard. You were familiar with them. 

After the Clone War ended two years ago, the Jedi uncovering and preventing a massive scheme to destroy the Republic, the Grand Army of the Republic was restructured. A tentative peace encompassed the galaxy. There was no longer a need for full battalions of soldiers. 

Pension plans passed, many soldiers retired. Some remained, though. Some, like the Corrie Guard, who were organized into an internal defensive bureau—the Department of Security—dedicated to protecting the New Republic from terrorist cells. Cells that were keen for chaos and anarchy.

So, the Guard’s random visit to your gallery was surprising.

“Can I help you?”

The Guard approached your counter—where you conducted all final transactions—with an aplomb that clued you into the seriousness of the situation.

“Are you the owner of the gallery?” At your nod, the Guard extended a gloved hand. “I’m Commander Fox.” The handshake was firm and brief. Matter-of-fact, just like the commander’s tone. “Yesterday, two Weequays were spotted on a public cam just outside this gallery. They were wearing black cowls and dressed in dark clothing. Do you know anything about them?”

The description, while slightly vague, was familiar. Your eyes narrowed. “They came inside and looked around a bit.”

The commander maintained eye contact with a calculation that made you tense. “For how long?” 

“Maybe five minutes.” You rounded the counter and motioned for the commander to follow you. A couple paces led you toward an unseemly case in a corner near the locked door that led to the backroom. “They spent most of that time looking at this: the Sword of Skander.”

Commander Fox peered into the case, eyeing the ancient sword inside. “What’s its story?”

“The sword belonged to Emperor Skander of the Meso civilization that existed ten thousand years ago,” you said with a cool, blasé inflection born from years working in this field. “When he assumed emperorship, his empire was close to collapse. To fight off his greatest enemy, he went to a sorcerer-type people and begged for an undefeatable weapon. They gave him this sword.”

“Undefeatable?” The commander raised his gaze to yours. A white scar cut across his chin. “It’s a sword.”

You offered him a bland smile. “The metal of the blade is unique. It no longer exists. It’s either been depleted so much it’s undiscoverable or it’s been hidden.” 

Commander Fox observed the sword with an unreadable expression. “And yet the metal in the sword remains.”

“The sword is protected by both cultural heritage laws and general artifact preservation laws,” you explained. “It was given to my grandmother forty years ago by a local community with ties to the Meso empire. One of their children was playing in a random cave when she found the sword. The locals recognized it from their legend. They wanted to protect it. So they asked my grandmother to safeguard it from those who would test the metal and replicate it.”

The commander ran a thumb along his lower lip. “Did the Weequay ask you any questions about it?”

“No.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “When I asked if I could help them, they left.”

“What’s so special about a rare metal?” Commander Fox mused aloud. At your silence, he pinned you with a hard look. “You know something.”

You hesitated. When you inherited the gallery, you had promised your grandmother to protect the sword’s secret capability. A capability that would earn the interest of different parties, including terrorists. 

“Very few people know this,” you said quietly. The commander shifted forward. “The sword’s blade can cut through any material. Including beskar.” His eyes widened. “And its blade is imbibed with a quick-acting poison. One little scratch and you’ll be dead within a minute.”

“That makes it a dangerous weapon,” Commander Fox murmured. He surveyed the front windows. Stained glass. An assortment of colors. They shielded visitors from Coruscant’s environment, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of ancient times, transplanting visitors from the modern world into history. “In the wrong hands—”

“That’s why only a handful of people know the truth.” You gestured to the case’s peeling wood and scratches. “And why its appearance is so modest.”

The commander released a contemplative sound.

Unease pricked the back of your neck. “You think the Weequays may suspect its true origins.”

His demeanor was impassive. “If I asked you to move the sword to your backroom, would you?”

“Only if you answer my question.”

“You haven’t asked me a question.” The corner of his mouth curved at your annoyed eye roll. “But…I believe there’s merit to your suspicions.”

You gave a sharp nod. “There are cases in the back with strong security systems. I’ll move it into one of those.”

“Thank you.” Commander Fox adjusted the helmet beneath his elbow. “Do you have private cams set up?”

“I do.” You extended your head to the one behind him, well-hidden among lacy drapes. 

“Good.” He scanned the gallery, most likely searching for the others. “Can I get a copy of the last week’s footage?”

“The last week?” His nod was perfunctory. You pursed your lips. “I don’t have time right now—”

“I’ll return to tomorrow.” He glanced once more at the sword. “If that works with your schedule.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Commander Fox offered his hand and you accepted it. Again. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

10 Yelona, Benduday

“Commander Fox.” You greeted the man with a close-mouthed smile. “Give me a minute.”

The commander, with his helmet cradled in the crook of his arm, nodded. The patient apathy on his face hid his true thoughts as he appraised a glass case housing five clay tablets inscribed with an indecipherable language. Your radiocarbon tests dated them nearly one-hundred thousand years old.

“As promised,” you said to the elderly man opposite your counter. Removing the lid from the large, nondescript box, you beckoned the man to peer inside. Joy played on his withered mouth.  

“Your payment,” he said, brandishing a bank card, “as promised.”

A swipe of his card deposited the credits into your account. It would take no more than thirteen hours for the transfer to complete its process. 

With a wave at the elderly man, you turned your attention to Commander Fox. 

“As promised for you.” You slid a datafile across the counter. “The five days preceding the Weequays’ visit, and the day of.”

Commander Fox rested a hand atop the ‘file. Like yesterday, red armor accentuated by a white chest plate covered his body. A black kama encircled his waist; a white utility belt sat snuggly on his hips. He set his helmet atop the counter.

“You must make a lot of money to afford these pieces.”

“I don’t sell the artifacts,” you said. The commander straightened slightly at your terse tone. “A majority of them were gifted to me by my grandmother. The rest are on loan from museums or private collections.” Your arms crossed your chest. “Artifacts are meant to be admired, studied, and respected. I’m not in this trade to buy and sell rarities just for the ego of having lots of money.”

If he was bothered by your sharp response, he didn’t show it. “Then how do you make money?”

“Through appraisals and consulting, mostly.” You rested a hip against the counter. “Preserving certain artifacts is expensive. If you don’t know what you’re doing, it can be either dangerous or ruinous. Lots of people will pay a good amount of money for an expert to preserve their family heirlooms or treasures they’ve accumulated. And they’ll pay even more to store their collections. I also document and organize assets for clients.”

Commander Fox dipped his chin toward the front door. “And that man—what did you do for him?”

“A cleaning.” You shrugged at his bemused frown. “Inside that box was a stack of plates that have been in his family for eight generations. Each plate is painted with a unique decoration. The paint is hundreds of years old and frail. A regular cleaning wouldn’t suffice, so I handled it.”

“That’s a lot of work for…” The commander cut himself off.

“Junk?” you surmised. He offered an apologetic grimace. “It may be junk to you. But artifacts mean different things to different people. Not only are they a way to study history and cultural nuances, they also connect you with people you might have nothing in common with. They offer a new perspective.”

You gestured to an ornamental warrior’s mask hanging on the wall behind you. “This mask belongs to my oldest client. She’s lost mobility in her hands and her eyesight is waning. She asked me to store the mask for her granddaughter, who will inherit the heirloom on her twentieth birthday. It’s been in their family for nearly two thousand years.”

Commander Fox whistled lowly.

“That’s a lot of history stored within a single, material item.” You scanned his face. “But it’s not just about preserving that family’s history. The mask is symbolic—it represents the family’s drive and resilience in times of turmoil. It’s survived horrific times, and so can they.”

For several seconds, Commander Fox scrutinized the green-blue mask. 

“I…don’t have anything like that,” he said slowly, almost as if to himself. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “I’ve never been one for history. I prefer a quantitative approach to my work.” 

“Different methods of thinking,” you said. “But equally important to society.”

He levelled a shrewd look at you. “What does it mean to you?”

“I told you—”

“I don’t want a practiced answer.” He arched a brow. “Why do you care about this stuff?”

“It’s history.” Your eyes drifted across the gallery, perusing a set of dry scrolls, a painting of unfamiliar constellations, a set of vases detailing a primitive form of hunting. “Being around these things—holding them…it reminds me that my life is short and insignificant. History won’t remember me, so I might as well live my life how I want.”

For someone like you—someone who experienced the heavy, debilitating pressure of responsibility when making even the smallest of decisions—it was comforting. 

Commander Fox braced an elbow on the counter. “You don’t think you’ll be remembered?” 

“I’d rather be known than remembered.”

“A contradictory sentiment for someone in your industry.”

You conceded his point with a small smile. “There are people who leave a lasting impression on others. I’m not one of those people.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You left an impression on me.” 

A doubtful eyebrow quirked. “Is that so.” 

“You shared a secret with me.” The beginnings of a smirk ghosted his mouth. “One that only a handful of people in the galaxy know.”

A quiet laugh escaped, and you shook your head, amused. “I hope I don’t regret that decision.”

Commander Fox tapped a slow rhythm against the countertop. “Nah. You won’t.”

“I gave it some thought,” you said, while Commander Fox pocketed the datafile. His silence demanded an explanation. “A Guard investigating something is serious. I mean, you jurisdiction is terrorism.” Whatever vestiges of humor remained vanished. “Tell me, Commander, will my gallery be safe?”

“You’re concerned with the gallery?” At the incredulity in his voice, your eyes squinted in confusion. He searched your face. “Not your life?”

Your blank blink earned you a displeased frown. 

“They’re after the sword,” you said plainly. “If I don’t get in their way, I doubt anything will happen to me.”

Displeasure remained present in the scoured lines of his forehead but the commander didn’t press. Instead, he grabbed his helmet and gave you a final onceover. “I’ll be visiting every day for the foreseeable future. To keep tabs on things and to sweep the area.” 

Dark brown eyes—like the blackest of caf with just a dash of milk—held yours. He waited for your nod of acknowledgement and then turned on his heel.

“ ‘Til tomorrow,” he said in farewell.

Masterlist | Part II

A/N: This story exists because I wanted to see someone like me fall in love, and be loved. I wanted to know it’s a possibility for me.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

The Evolution of an Echo

Okay well I wasn't planning on doing this now but I decided to strike while the iron is hot and have now started writing a full on character essay at *checks watch* 22:06

But despite his limited screen time, I really love how Echo has been portrayed this season and I really want to have a look at his character evolution over the course of The Bad Batch and how he compares now to who we were first introduced to in The Clone Wars.

Steph waffle about Echo coming up down below! 🧇

@saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings

So I feel like the main thing we see with Echo is that he generally has more confidence now than he did before. Don't get me wrong, he still had confidence in a combat situation and was not afraid to throw himself into the action if it meant he could help people (self-preservation who?), but he seems to have become more comfortable with being himself, like he's properly found his own identity.

And I think that that is interesting considering what Echo has gone through. Personality-wise (and looks-wise), he is very different to who he once was but he still feels like Echo. We haven't lost him, he's just become more aware of what makes Echo Echo. Because when he was first given the name, he hated it. He didn't like being called that because it stemmed from people teasing him about his habit of repeating orders. While there wasn't any true malicious intent (the Dominoes were his brothers after all), Echo ended up being the target of "bullying" during his early years in the GAR. He was a rule follower and believed that things had to be done by the book for a reason. But that resulted in him getting teased a lot and I don't think he ever truly built up the same level of confidence as some of his other batchmates. And for him, that name probably suggested that everything that made up his identity, everything that made him him, was that name and how it stemmed from his belief that rules were made to be followed. His identity was in some way intrinsically tied to his name.

However, over time we saw that he came to fully embrace the name ("is there and Echo in here?") and over the course of the last couple of seasons, have really begun to see Echo fully living up to his potential, no longer tying himself to the "rule-follower" identity that he had carried with him for so long. Because what happened to him on Skako Minor fundamentally changed who he was: not just physically, but personally as well. He had to navigate being a new person and that meant finding himself again, even if the person he found was not the one he was expecting. And remember that at this point, all of his batchmates are gone; the people who gave him the name that summed up his personality are gone. The Batch don't know the old Echo and in some ways that probably helped him find himself. There was no expectation from them for him to go back to who he was before because they don't know that side of him. It gave Echo the space to breath and I feel like in some ways there was less of a pressure for him to try and go back to who he was.

Now that's not to say that the old Echo isn't still there in some ways. When he first ran with the Batch, he didn't quite have the same level of chaos as them, didn't really have the same way of going about things. And that never fully went away. Look at the way he challenged Hunter in season 2: he didn't instantly fall into doing things that Batch's way, but still held onto his own beliefs. But that confrontation did show a build in confidence. Echo became much more confident in standing up for himself, for doing what he believed even if that wasn't how everyone else wanted to do it. And so much of that stems from what he went through. Echo has been through hell, and if he can prevent that from happening to other people, then he will, even if it means disagreeing with his brothers.

One thing that has stood out to me is how Echo has begun to accept that where he belongs isn't always in one spot. And I imagine that this was something that had never really occurred to him much until this point because he'd only ever really been in one place: with his batch. I mean, they spent rotation after rotation after rotation together on the Rishi Moon. Echo never really had to deal with change until his brothers died. Then he found the 501st and that's when Echo began to adapt to shifts. He was in new places, with new jobs, but he always had one constant: Fives. And yet, following his rescue, that constant was gone. The place that had once felt like home to Echo now didn't feel like that anymore because it wasn't what he remembered. It's why he went with the Batch.

And I think this change was crucial in building the Echo we see today. It was a point in which he learned that home didn't mean one place. And sometimes it didn't even mean the same people. Home is simply where one feels like they belong, and for Echo that isn't always the same spot. It's where he feels like he can truly be himself and for him that means being in a position where he can help people. Whether that be with the 501st, or the Batch, or the Rebellion, Echo has learned to find a place in wherever he feels he needs to be. And that's why he's become so confident: because he has found where he belongs and what truly makes Echo Echo.

So we can look at Echo now and see the change. But we can still see the old him there - the drive to do the right thing, the protectiveness he holds for those he cares about, and the incredibly stressful habit of always putting himself in harms way in order to get things done - but he's embraced it more than ever before. While his screen time has been short this season, what we've seen from Echo is the perfect demonstration of why he was made an ARC and why he has always been so amazing. He is an incredibly talented soldier and now that he's found his calling, he's flourishing. He's embracing the change and he's taking everything in his stride. He's a good leader, a competent soldier, an incredible tactician, and a genuinely nice person who cares about the wellbeing of the people around him. Echo has come out of his shell and truly flourished and it's amazing to see.

And his humour has come back as well! One of the things that was often pointed out was how Echo's jokey side had kind of faded while he was with the Batch and yet over the last season it's come out in full force. Echo finding his confidence has also made him snarkier and bitchier in the best way possible. He knows what he wants and he isn't going to put up with anyone's bs. And what I love even more is how much the Batch have embraced him. They trust him now more than ever; he's their brother and they respect his drive and support him, even if it isn't the path they wanted to take themselves.

Now Echo still has his struggles, he isn't perfect. He can still be overly blunt sometimes, and he still has his vulnerabilities ("I don't enjoy solitude") but they don't make him weak. In fact Echo is stronger than ever and embracing who he is even more. And we can see where his growth has been influenced by those around him; the soft side that has become stronger after caring for Omega and the complete and utter chaos stemming from Fives and the Batch for example.

And you know what, Echo is a fitting name. Not because he repeated orders, but because in everything he does, and everything he proves himself to be, you can see the echoes of his past, who he was, who he's known and who he grew to be.

[nahoney22]

Beyond the Fall***

Tech X F!Reader

word count: 6.8k

*gif is mine so please credit if used.*

warnings: Spoilers for TBB Episode 9. Enemies to Lovers NSFW. Explicit Sexual Content, sex pollen, dub-con in both parties but also somewhat pretty aware, solo masturbation (reader), begging, swearing, slight mention of breeding kink, several positions, p in v, rough sex, creampie but reader mentions that she is protected. accidental confessions of true feelings I suppose. comfort at the end. Arguing at the start. Not proofread ngl.

When you take a tumble down a deep hole, you did not think for a second that Tech would dive in straight after you. With tensions on the high anyway, what fares when you both experience a certain aphrodisiac within the water.

“Tell me, how exactly did you and Wrecker miss our ship being compromised?”

You watched in shocked awe as the Marauder, your home for going on the last eight months flying away without a crew member on board. Luckily, Wrecker answered Tech’s irritating question for you.

“Maybe if you hadn’t docked it out of view, we would have seen someone approaching.”

“Well, there was no other suitable landing zone, Wrecker.” Tech scolds.

“Yes there was,” you snapped at the goggled clone, eyes fuming with anger, “I suggested landing just on the ledge above and you said no.”

“The terrain was not suitable so I suggest you do not tell me where to dock my ship.”

You laughed mockingly at him, scoffing. “Your ship? How about next time you be the lookout then!”

“Perhaps I will.” He retorted, posture tense, “Although, the likelihood of getting the ship back is very slim.” His brown eyes are frowning at you from behind his helmet. His eyes always had that judging look when he looked your way which was enough to make your blood boil. 

But when you looked at Omega, your heart sank. The others may not have noticed but you didn’t miss the glistening of unshed tears in her eyes as the bunch of you argue. 

“Don’t worry Omega, it will be fine.” You reassure her softly, placing a hand to her shoulder.

Ever since Echo departed with Rex, the atmosphere had been tense. There was something about the man that had managed to keep the squad together, and with his departure, the cracks were starting to show. Nonetheless, this did not have a significant effect on your relationship with Tech, which had always been a bit unsteady.

“Other than the fact we have barely any food, shelter and mode of transportation, sure.” Tech interjects shortly before strutting off. You shot him an annoyed look before rolling your eyes. 

“Ignore him.” You tell her before the lot of you venture off to find any signs of life.

————

“What is your issue?”

With the Ipsium now gone, a rare and expensive mineral that you all came to this damned planet for, you find yourself trapped inside one of the vaults after the mineral exploded. So clearly, the mishap of the ship going missing was the start of the downfall.

His words were somewhat callous and lacked sympathy as he spoke down to Omega who was very frustrated and emotional, her young self looking to each and every one of you. Unfortunately, it was Tech who had to open his mouth.

You watched Omega leave, Hunter trying to get her to stay but after she insisted she wanted to be alone. As the team turned to Tech, you could sense their agitation and annoyance with his lack of empathy. You couldn't help but add your own thoughts to the mix, clapping slowly with a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

"Good job, Tech," you said, trying to make him understand the gravity of his words.

Tech, who had taken a seat on a boulder, was confused and looked over at you, frowning. "What did I say wrong?"

"You were stating the obvious," you voice with a grunt, grabbing your water canister and taking a gulp before saying, "but maybe you could've been a bit more empathetic."

“Would you rather me lie to her?” He counters, raising his brow as if to challenge you.

"It's not about lying, Tech. It's about understanding, especially in times like these." 

"I was simply using logic," Tech defended himself. "Telling her the truth is the best way to handle the situation."

You took a deep breath, trying to control your rising frustration. "It's not about just telling her the truth, Tech. It's about how you say it.” 

Although you did not particularly like Tech, nor did he seem to like you it seems, you felt a little bad that you had to discuss with him his lack of social skills and emotional response to certain situations. He had always been this way, down to his genetic programming but for someone so smart, he can’t see the bigger picture sometimes. “Can’t you see she is upset?”

“I am aware that Omega is frustrated at the present moment but that has nothing to do with me. Omega needs to be aware that these situations happen and one of us has to be the voice of reason and therefore, logical conversation is the best approach.” He holds his finger in the air, “I understand if this goes over your head.”

You gritted your teeth, trying to contain your anger but to no avail. "Will you stop being an arse to me? We're all in the same boat here, and I will not have you speak to me like that!" Your raised voice strained as you spoke. Never had you been so bitter towards someone in your life as of right now. Not only has he made matters worse with an already sensitive Omega, he blamed you for not seeing the ship being taken, he basically called you stupid to your face… you’re surprised steam was not coming out of your ears at this point.

You storm off for a few minutes to collect yourself and in the meantime, Hunter folds his arms and glares across at his brother. “Well that’s one way of telling her you like her.” 

Tech went to speak but no words came out, a little aghast at Hunter's insinuation. “I do not know what you’re talking about.” He mumbled a tad.

“Sure you don’t.” He unfolds his arms and begins to push away at some of the rocks. “Get back to work.”

Tech spots you from the corner of his eyes, your hands running over your face in presumed stress and just for a mere second, he is conflicting with his emotions.

———

The second you heard that Tech was off to find Omega, you don’t really know why Hunter and Wrecker suggested you go with him. Albeit, something in your gut was telling you to go along anyway, so you did.

Your heart was thumping with every step you took alongside him, the eeriness of the mine only adding to the palpable tension.

“Question, why do you think they wanted you to come with me?”

You’re surprised he’s making conversation but that wasn’t exactly unlikely of him. 

“I don’t know.” You grunt, not interested in talking to him at all at the moment. You also had a feeling it was so he didn’t upset Omega even more and to smooth things out but Hunter could sense how irate you got around Tech so this little mission together will be enlightening. 

When you nudged Tech and pointed towards Omega’s gear on the floor, you’re a little precarious to see her extracting the mineral that got them in this mess in the first place.

“Hey love, you doing alright?” You ask softly, peering through the small hole she had made to crawl through. When your heart landed on the large gaping hole beside her feet however you grew hot under your collar. 

“Fine.” She muttered, extracting the last bit from the section she was at. “What are you two doing here?”

"We came to see where you were, of course," you say softly, hoping to bring some comfort to her. That is until Tech decides to interject.

"And to find some Ipsium," he blurts out, causing you to shoot him a disapproving look. He quickly gets the message and coughs, trying to rectify the situation. "Which you are already cleverly extracting for us. Great job."

“No,” Omega mutters, pulling the drill away and finally looking up at you both, “why are you two here? Together? You hate one another.”

The pair of you froze. Even though it was clear that there was some kind of tension between the two of you, always bickering, hate was certainly a strong word. In fact, you knew what it was like to hate someone and you never felt it with Tech. You felt something, though you could not pinpoint what it was exactly.

Tech looks at you, gauging your reaction but he did not understand the look on your face. 

“Hate is not the word I would use.” You finally speak up, voice a little timid as Tech stood next to you. You didn’t want to add fuel to the already blazing fire between the pair of you, nor did you want to upset Omega any further. “We just have different thoughts about things.”

She blinks at you both before subtly rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

You sighed, head slumped before moving out of the way to let Tech speak with her. 

Thankfully, Tech quickly changes the topic. “How much have you extracted?”

“Just this vial. Figured we could use it to blow ourselves out of here.” She holds it up to him, a little irritated that he didn’t take it from her grasp.

You stood back and watched the exchange and you can tell he is definitely trying to make it up to her. Although he is not apologising upfront nor discussing it, you figured his best approach is to forget it and move on.

When they both come up with an agreement, the tension slowly fading away between them, there’s one vial left but the extraction point looks just a little bit out of Omega’s reach.

“I’ll get that one if you want?” You suggest, not liking the way she was almost creeping over the edge of a large black hole.

Omega wants to finish the job herself but knows that you were probably better suited as you were taller. “Okay, I’m going to go back to the others then.” She wipes some sweat off her brow before swapping places with you.

Tech peers through the hole you just crawled in, tapping away at his datapad. “Are you aware of how this procedure goes?” He asks once Omega vacates the area. 

You reach down and grab the drill, looking to the final piece that was in a very precarious place. “Yep.” You reply shortly, trying not to get distracted.

“Do we really need this last one?” You mutter more to yourself but Tech had a keen ear.

“If we are to have extra, then not only can we escape this place but we will also be compensated for it.” He pushes his goggles up his nose. “So yes.”

“Great.”

It was no easy feat and several times you had to alter your position, crouching, leaning and every other position to make sure you’re safe but it didn't help at all when you had someone breathing down your neck.

“Are you nearly done?” You jump a little, turning around to see Tech staring at you with a bored expression. 

“I’m trying my best, Tech.” You sneer, turning back to the task at hand.

“You need to lean closer.” 

You groan in frustration and enthusiastically point to the gaping abyss. “Do you need your goggles cleaned or can you not see this hole? I’ll be done, when I’m done!” 

In a moment of weakness, you had reached across as prodded by Tech but just a tad overstepped, sending you over the edge.

“Tech!” You squeak, clawing onto the jagged rocks to hold yourself up, panic shooting through you as your feet scrambled to cling onto anything.

His eyes widen in horror and in a blink he is by your side, reaching across to you. “Take my hand.”

You take a breath and let go with one hand, reaching for him. But as your fingers brush against his, you’re not strong enough to hold on and fall into the abyss.

He screams your name, standing up and with no second thought, he jumps down after you. 

The water was tumultuous as you struggled to keep your head above the water. Your arms and legs are kicking, the energy you had slowly fading as you struggle against the current.

Then you heard your name.

“Tech!” You called out with a sob as the water thrashed over your face and partially down your throat.

He swam towards you as fast as he could, shouting your name as you cried out for help while your body crashed against the jagged rocks, your lungs filling with water.

But Tech soon caught up to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you both rode the current into the unknown. When you were suddenly confronted by a waterfall, you both cascaded over it, splashing into a peaceful pool.

You emerged from the water, gasping for air but began to panic when you didn't see your savior; Tech.

“Tech! Where are you?” You gasp, searching the water to see if he had been swept under 

but relief washes through you as he quickly emerged from the water moments later, gasping for breath and searching for you.

You both lock eyes, panting heavily before you start to swim for an embankment, crawling onto land. You’re coughing violently, some water pumping out of you as Tech collapsed onto his back, pulling his goggles back to wipe away the water droplets.

You lay staring at the rocky yet blue illuminated ceiling, catching back your breath as your wet clothes hung to your body. You sit up eventually, looking at the bright pool of blue you and Tech just got submerged in before glancing around. 

“It appears we have entered an underground aqueduct surrounded by plenty of Ipsium.” Tech acknowledges, sitting up and looking around too. “Not the best place for you to lure us into but not the worst.”

You processed his words and even now, he had the nerve to put the blame on you. “Are you saying this is my fault?” 

“Partly, yes.” He replies nonchalantly.

You scoff, standing up and moving away from him. “I can’t believe you. Are you really doing this? Now?”

He watches you move and stands too but remains where he was. “Simply stating facts.”

You look at him in disbelief, running a hand through your sopping wet hair. “Did I ask you to jump down with me?”

He shifts, suddenly feeling a little warm under the collar. “Well no but-.”

“And was I the one to initially upset Omega?”

“It can be argued we all had a part in that-.”

“Was it you who allowed me to get the last bit of Ipsium?” You bombard him with questions, all of it leading up to now. “Was it you who told me to lean in closer?”

His jaw clenched, fists tightening. “If you and Wrecker had not let our ship get stolen, we wouldn’t be here at all.”

“I told you to dock it somewhere else! In view!” You shout, voice booming around the small hidden cave. 

“And why would I rely on anything you have to say to me? You have not an ounce of my intelligence nor knowledge of planets. You do not know how to drive a ship, let alone instruct the pilot where it should land.” He rants, eyes trained on you, both of your breathing hard and heavy, tension so thick it felt like nothing could cut it. “Know your place in this squad.” 

His words hurt. A lot. No matter how much you bickered he had never said anything so belittling to you. Stress is evident on both of your faces given the situation but to hear how he supposedly felt about you was difficult to swallow. “I… you’re impossible.” You whisper but he still hears it. 

The second he heard you sniffle, he wanted to instantly narrow it down that you instantly got a cold from the water but as you aggressively wiped away a tear and stormed off, he knew he took it too far. Does he chase after you? No. He figured you wanted to be left alone just like he learnt with Omega. So in the meantime, he tried to contact the others.

You sat on the other side of the cave, your knees hugged to your chest as you just sat and hoped that Tech could summon a message to the others. In the meantime as you sat, you tried to ignore the odd pulse circulating under the skin of your palms. But, it started getting progressive and a wave of scorching heat flushed your body.

A whimper parts your lips and you begin to quickly strip the gear from your body and throw it around you carelessly. “Why’s it so fucking hot in here?” You gasp to yourself, tugging on the high collar of your body glove.

“I too am suddenly feeling quite feverish.” Tech’s voice sounded next to you making you jolt. As you look up at him, your eyes drank in his tall, slender figure. You swallow the saliva that started to pool in your throat, pushing the clouded thoughts to the back of your mind. 

“Did you get contact with the others?” You rasp, moving yourself onto your knees, staring down at the water as you try and steady your breathing that suddenly becomes ragged and scratched at your throat. 

Tech shakes his head and quietly sits beside you, unconsciously tugging at his now soaked clothes as he feels as though he’s been dipped in lava. “No, I can’t get a clear signal.” He says steadily, blinking quickly as sweat starts to seep into his goggles and blur his vision. 

You could almost moan in despair but the only whimper that parted through your lips was one of searing pleasure.

“T-Tech, do you feel… different?” You whisper, looking up at him through hooded eyes.

Tech looks back down at you, pulling his goggles up onto his head to swipe the dripping of sweat from his eyes and he almost gasps at the sight of you. 

Your lips looked full, parted and wanting. Your skin glowed with a distinctive hue that he couldn’t quite put his finger on but as he stands above you, seeing you on your knees a wave of pleasure shoots straight to his cock. He closes his eyes, tight. Mentally trying to snap him out of this precarious situation and then an idea popped into his head. 

His hands, now shaking and pulsing under his gloves reach to one of his many sections of his utility belt before pulling out a single vial, and swiping up the water the pair of you plummeted in. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek. Hard. So hard you think you think you could have drawn blood but it’s nothing compared to the bite at the center of your core as your heart races with nothing but desire. You needed to touch yourself. 

“Oh dear,” he finally says.

“What is it?”

Tech slumps against one of the boulders that surrounded the cave, a mixture of different emotions flushing through him. Confusion, worry and a whole lot of desire. “The water… it appears to be polluted which is why we are reacting to it.”

“You want to narrow that down?” You groan, falling onto your back as your fingers deep into the rough texture of sand beneath your body to refrain yourself from reaching down and begin to relieve this brewing sensation. 

Tech's eyes that were trying so hard to stare at the datapad in his hand only start to move to longing gaze at you, watching you physically writhe on the floor as a mixture of whines and moans erupt from your mouth. “It’s polluted with,” he gulps, trying to now ignore how physically aching it was to feel his length pressed against his pants, “aphrodisiacs.”

The word itself made you mewl and although you should feel panicked and alarmed, the burning feeling between your legs followed by the throbbing pulse all over your body was taking over instead. “W-what do we do?” 

Not knowing what he was doing, his hand lowers to his crotch and stars to slowly palm himself at the sight of you tugging and tearing at your bodysuit to rip it from your body. The moment of weakness stops and he quickly snaps out of what he’s doing and diverts his gaze and body away from you. “To erase the side effects you will need to masturbate in order to form the release. An o-orgasm,” he grunts, gripping onto the boulder as the word makes his cock twitch, “is the only way to stimulate. I will leave you alone to engage in this process.” 

The second Tech moves away to the other side of the cave to take care of himself, you have pulled yourself out of your body glove and began the impulse of pleasuring yourself.

Your hand flushed down your thigh and then to your bare sex, pressing two fingers harshly down against your clit that had you wailing out in ecstasy. “Oh f-f-fuck!” Your whole body arches in response to the touch to your bud, circling motions rapidly as you beg for the quick release that is brewing. 

Your moans and swears echo around the cave, deafening out the noise of the waterfall that poured down. But it’s not enough.

Frantically, your fingers move to your sopping  wet entrance, curling inside of you and rubbing back and forth as your opposite hand now rubs furiously at your clit. Although your body spasms, the burning that felt like your body was aflame with sexual desire would not fade. Moans become erratic, it isn’t long until you’re begging for your own release as you writhe pathetically on the ground. 

Then, you said his name. The one person who you knew could push you over the edge. “Teeeeeech,” you call his name. Wanting. Needing.

Within the space of maybe ten seconds, a shadow looms over your sweating and spasming body and as your eyes open, you melt to see Tech in the nude, pumping his cock that was glistening in precum.

“You look so wonderful like that,” he purrs, licking his lips as he stands over you and strokes his cock in frantic motions. “I knew it wouldn’t be long until you would be begging for me.”

“P-please Tech,” you grit, fingers going completely numb with the constant strumming against your clit, “it’s too much, I need you.”

The second your back arches, Tech falls to his knees beside you and slings an arm around your back. He’s swift in his movements and he’s uttering the most indiscreet filth he could before diving his fingers straight into your core without a second thought.

His fingers hook inside you, pulsing all the while expertly have his thumb rubbing at your bud. 

“Oh my stars! Tech, please don’t stop, please make this burning go away.” You beg him, writhing under his touch as his hand rocks against you, sending you into a flurry of loud groans. 

“That’s it darling, take my fingers. Maker, you’re sublime and a little begging mess for me. Glorious.” Tech grunts as his hand starts to spasm, his pace relentless and despite wanting you to cum all over his fingers so he could taste you, he didn’t expect for a second for your hand to come down and grab at his cock and balls.

Your hands look small in comparison to his length, his skin hot to the touch that felt like silk. With your touch alone, it has him bucking his hips as you both mutually pleasure one another. “You’ve got such a pretty cock, Tech,” you whimper, looking down at his member that twitched in your hands both somewhat aware and non aware of the lewd words that pour from your lips. 

“And you’ve got the most perfect little pussy that needs pleasuring. And am I doing that?” Tech locks eyes with you, dark and filled with an unspoken need. “Am I pleasuring you enough?”

“Yes! Fuck yes, you are. I think I’m going to cum soon.” You tremble and in your heart, you didn’t want him to stop the incessant rampage of his fingers against your cunt. 

As you pump along his throbbing cock, Tech feels himself start to edge closer and close to his release. He’s whimpering, a sound you never thought you’d be blessed of hearing but there’s something about him that makes you tingle. His eyes trail down from your face to your breast, mouth salivating at the thought of ramming his cock between the perfect mounds.

“Kiss them, please.” You had caught his leering and without a second thought he bends down and latches his lips to your stiff peaks, tongue licking aggressively against the sensitive skin. 

Your legs begin to shake, the touch of his hands agaisnt you, the feeling of his tongue licking feverishly against you followed by the gesture of you wanking caused your body to shoot, making you wail as you hit your climax. 

Tech follows soon after, his hot ribbon seeping over your fist as he his hips stutter.

You let out a longing gasp, elbows shaking as you prop yourself up to see Tech’s glistening fingers pull out of your body lewdly. 

The silence was ringing and for a moment, you didn’t dare look to Tech. Your heart race is the realisation of what just took place began to hit but not as quick as another jolt of pulsations straight to your clit once again.

“Tech,” you rasp out and consciously grip onto his wrist, shaking, “I’m sorry but-.”

“I’m aware.” Tech whispers and as you finally meet his gaze, you look down and see that his cock was already hard and twitching for your touch. 

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you manage out before the aphrodisiac overpowers you once again.

Tech nods quickly in understanding and in the faintest of touches, he cups your cheek, “I know.” 

Quicker than before, the wave of desire washed over you both and simultaneously you both lean in, lips slanting over one another as his tongue plunged straight into your mouth. Both of you fought against each other, thick muscles that spent so much time bickering at another now dancing in a fiery passion. 

He’s crawling on top of you now, his cock sliding against your thigh and stomach as you maintain this intense make out session but it was going on for too long. You just couldn’t bear another second without his cock inside of you.

 “Fuck me,” you plead, “I need you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk for a week. I want you to ram your cock so deep inside me, please.” You moan against his lips, words of filth that were almost unholy to hear that made Tech let out a guttural snarl as he pulled away from your lips and quickly positioned himself between your now spread legs.

His tip presses to his entrance but he’s not shy in letting his hands roam your body, tweaking your nipples before resting them on your hips. “Maker, you do look breedable.”

In one quick motion, he’s breached your entrance in a swift motion, buried inside you.

“STARS! TECH!” Your cries in delight boom around the cave, your body beautifully glowing from the pool of water beside you both as he almost bottoms out ontop of you. 

“K-Kriff,” he stutters, feeling your walls clench around him like a vice, the burning through his veins temporarily subsiding before absolutely rocking his cock in and out of you like a man desperate for air.

His hands clasp at your waist, fingers biting down into your flesh as your body shoves down against the ground with every resounding thrust he gives you. “Could fuck this little pussy all night if I have to,” he grunts through gritted teeth, eyes dark.

If you weren’t intoxicated by this sensation you would be in complete shock at his words, but instead you let his words carve into your mind as his hips rock back and forth all the while your gazes are locked on another. 

In a moment of weakness, his hand moved from your hip and over your breast, caressing the soft mound with his fingers as a devilish smirk plasters his face. “I’ve always imagined your breasts to be divine to touch. So wonderful to know I was correct.” He sings, admiring you from above.

“They’re all yours Tech,” you submit to him, eyes heavy, “you can have me whenever, wherever. Just please don’t stop.”

A noise emits from him and you gasp as he manages to flip you so you're now on your front, forced to your hands and knees before he starts to take you from behind, spanking your cheeks with his thighs with every hard thrust. “You shouldn’t have said that mesh’la, can you not understand that I have wanted to fuck you for so, so long? Having to, ugh fuck-.” He pauses his unfiltered words, in awe of how pretty you looked arched downwards as he seethes his aching cock into you, “having to watch you all day everyday and never being able to express my desires.”

Again, your mind is too boggled to completely comprehend the seriousness of his words. Your cries of pleasure strain in your throat and your eyes burn with desire as Tech’s hands grip to your lower back, pushing you down to the ground as he hits you with wanting thrusts. 

“You’re fucking me so good Tech. Why haven’t we done this sooner?” 

Tech’s low chuckle does something to you as your words did to him, “Next time instead of fighting, we should just fuck. Or maybe, if you want me to submit,” Tech breathes through each thrust, seeing himself pull his cock out that’s now glistening with your juices, “be a whore and suck my cock. You obviously like it, don’t you?”

“Y-yes! Yes I love your cock! It feels so good in my pussy. Bet it’s even better between my lips.” You entice, looking over your shoulder at him which sparked something wild in him.

He pulls out despite being spurred on, leaving you almost begging for him. But this time you’re being pulled into his lap, tongues already dancing against each other the moment your lips meet as you seethe onto his thick length. 

“You may think my cock would be better between your lips, but I have never felt anything better than it being inside you.” He whispers to your lips, almost a glimmer of reality snapping back to you both as his words weren’t exactly driven by the intoxins - rather something else.

You’re smirking against his mouth and that’s when the desperation of needing to be fucked hard again, boils. As you begin to move your hips, frantically back and forth and rocking against his cock, his eyes shoot wide open and he’s whimpering tirelessly in front of you.

“That’s it, that’s my girl! What an edacious creature you are. Riding my cock like a good slut. Can’t get enough, can you?” He is holding onto your waist, fingers biting against the flesh once more as you tilt your head back, rhythm changing from back and forth to up and down. Your tits are bouncing in his face that he wasted no time in burying his face into the mounds, kissing and sucking against your skin.

 He had lost his sense of self completely now and was driving in pure instinct alone that when his tongue slid over one of your nipples, you gasped in approval. With your hands coming up and wrapping around his neck, your breathing is ragged and exacerbated whilst he uses you.

“You like it when I ride your cock, Tech? Huh? You love my pussy don’t you? Maker, could sit on your cock all day and never get enough.” Words of filth ooze out your mouth ease, making Tech react to your words with wanton moans.

Tech’s lips glaze over your beasts, leaving marks of today's antics as a reminder all the while claiming you. “Don’t stop darling, don’t you dare stop until you have milked every last drop of my seed until it seeps out of your little hole.”

You’re wet, warm, and velvet soft around Tech’s cock, taking him to the base with greed. He picks up a rhythm, matching yours as rocking his hips up and into you steadily as the blue shine of the cave reflects on your naked and sweating bodies. 

Minutes that felt like both hours and seconds passed, Tech pounding you at such a rapid pace that you were confident your pussy was getting warmer. Skin prickling with tingles, you knew you were about to cum. 

“Tech! Oh fuck, Tech I think I’m close to cumming! Make me cum! Please make me yours with your cum.” As you finished your thoughts, you cried out with joy, your entire body feeling like it was lighter than air while simultaneously being filled with every possible positive sensation it could possibly handle. Your mind lost all semblance of where you were, what had happened to you and what had gotten you to this point, instead focusing solely on Tech beneath you, still diligently pounding himself into you like he was sex starved. 

As your mind slowly returns to reality and your breathing catches up with your body's senses, you’re aware of what was happening. Especially as you felt him still pounding into you. Tech was whining, grunting and groaning as he maintained smashing into you rapidly, and you could tell by the way he breathed and his determination that he must be close to climax. 

Suddenly, he groans out your name. Shouting it so loud that it wouldn’t surprise you if the others had heard his cries from above. You could feel him driving himself as deep as he could go. A gasp emits from your lips as the burning that once was scorching your body from the water was replaced with the warm feeling of him filling you up with more cum than before.

Your lips part, words strangled in your throat as you felt his warm cum stuffing you while you guiltily enjoy the sensation. In fact, you could have sworn he was filling you to the point that you thought you may have had a second, smaller orgasm as he began his. Tech grunts with exertion as he finally finishes, his head flopping forward to rest against your shoulder, tiredly.

“Tech,” you whisper after what seemed like forever, hand gently resting on his shoulder to bring his head back to meet his gaze.

As the pair of you locked eyes, it clicked instantly what just happened. How one second you were arguing and then the next… Similar to you, his lips parts but this time he is speechless. 

A wave of new emotions flooded over him, none of which he understood or could process. Though the more you looked into his eyes, the more you understood that jittering feeling in your stomach. But now was probably not the time to look into it.

Eventually, Tech carefully removed you from his lap and you had to hold your breath about how lewd it was feeling his now softening length pulling out of you. 

He is silent when he collects his gear, slipping the damp clothing back on his body meanwhile you do the same. 

He glances over his shoulder at you and a wave of worry hits him when he notices grazing over your back. 

“Did I hurt you?”

Pausing, you quietly turn to look at him and see him gesture to your back. Awkwardly you glance down and audibly wince at the markings. But, from what you were aware, he wasn’t the cause of it. “No. It would’ve been from when I fell.”

“I see. When we head back to the ship I will gather supplies to help you clean it up.” He is fumbling around with his belongings, trying everything in his power to ignore what just happened but a pressing matter infiltrated his mind. “Speaking of supplies, we will need to head into the nearest village to locate any means of contraceptive-.”

“I’m on the pill, Tech.” You sigh, running a hand through your damp hair as you finish getting dressed before plopping yourself back on the sand, pulling your knees to your chest. 

Tech looks down from over his datapad at you, unsure how to approach this. But after taking a deep breath, he silently sits beside you, both of you gazing into the water that did unspeakable things to you both.

“I am unsure what to say to set your mind at ease.” He starts, trepidation on his words. “Though I can imagine it is hard for you to also summarize how you’re feeling about his moment.”

You close your eyes, hoping that burning behind your eyes would subside because although he had seen you, all of you, you weren’t ready to let him see your tears. “You don’t have to say anything,”

Tech looks in your direction, eyes drinking in your features. “I… I am sorry.”

“What for? You did what you had to to help me.” 

“I’m aware, but I am not apologising for that.” Your eyes open and a flurry of confusion crosses your face. 

You turn your head to look at him, shocked a little to see him already looking back. “Then, what are you sorry for?”

A sigh parts his lips. “I am sorry for all the times I have been hard on you. I am also apologising for what I said previously about you having to know ‘your place in this squad’.” Your mind is reeling and all you can do is let him continue. “It has come to my attention, for a long time now, that you are a valuable asset. My behavior towards you is unwarranted.”

“But,” you lick your lower lip idly, not quite processing what he was saying, “I thought you hated me?”

“Hate is a strong word. And as we discussed with Omega before, I do not hate you. Differing ideologies is all.” He breathes out shakily, feeling a minimal weight leave his shoulders. 

“So why are you hard on me?”

He rubs the back of his neck, a little unsure on how to answer. So often he had been judged for his blunt responses and now, he was finding it difficult to be honest. But, if the two of you were to never make it out of here - he may as well lay it all on the line.

“There is no denying that I struggle with emotions and how I reciprocate certain feelings from others. Truthfully, there is something about you that I find both irritating yet fascinating.”

He sneaks a glance at you as he speaks and he expected you to appear annoyed but instead, you appeared quite intrigued. Subtly, you nod your head to continue. “What I am trying to say is that I have a rooted attraction to you and feel as though pushing you away would help. But, it does not seem to be working.”

As you try to let his words sink in, you couldn’t help the feeling of your heart seeming to somewhat flutter at his admittance. All this time… he liked you? Truthfully your mind was still a little hazy to take it all in but there was now a burning question in the back of your mind. “Did you mean anything you said?”

“Indicating to what?” Tech asked gently though he had an inkling as to what you were referring to.

“You know…” you say shyly, cheeks emitting a certain heat.

He chews on the inside of his cheek, fully aware of what filth had poured from his lips only minutes ago. “From what I gather from aphrodisiacs is that it sends even the most sane people wild. All in all, a lot of truths are or have been told when under the influence.”

With a shaken breath, you close your eyes. “So it’s true that you’ve always wanted to fuck me? That’s what you said.”

“Yes. Yes, that is true.” 

Oddly enough, you’re okay with this information. Although you can’t say you have felt the same but in the back of your mind, you still remember the sight of him above you and remembered word for word everything he said. 

“I hope you do not think I have taken advantage of you - that would never, ever be the case. If I could have thought of a different solution then of course, I would have. There could be many anecdotes but-.”

“Tech.” You cut him off softly, clearly your silence was playing on his mind. You tilt your head to hom and offer him the softest smile he had ever been blessed to receive from you. “Thank you for saving me.” 

A gasp echoes through the cave as you gently lace your fingers through his, a gentle squeeze that speaks a thousand words. 

You weren’t too sure what was going to happen from now on. Would the others ever find you? What was to become of yours and Tech’s relationship? All you know is that if you were to fall into a cave filled with water with dangerous toxins with anybody - you’re somewhat glad it was Tech. 

Masterlist

Tags and those who wanted to be tagged will be tagged in a sep post because tag limit and shite: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart t @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @rintheemolion @seriowan @agenteliix @kaminocasey @the-good-shittt @photogirl894 @imalovernotahater @swiftiexstarwarssimp

[stardustloki]

The Boundaries

After the Chancellor's death, Fox takes a job offered to him by Bail Organa.

For over two years, he's believed himself defective, has believed that everything that Palpatine did to him was for his own good, and even knowing that he was a Sith Lord can't erase all the lessons that Fox learnt from him.

But perhaps, in time, Fox can discover that he isn't as much of a failure as he was led to believe.

- Tags: Gen, T, No Archive Warnings, Fox & Bail Organa, Fox & Thire,

Healing, Past Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Esteem Issues, Anxiety, Burn-out, Past Abuse, Non-graphic references to past torture and medical experimentation, For Fox day (10 days late counts, right?)

-

Read it on ao3 here.

Or below the cut.

-

“I am so glad you decided to accept the job offer,” Bail Organa tells him as they walk into his office. 

The doors fall shut behind them, in a way that makes Fox wince internally, before he tells himself to get a grip. So, he’s trapped (no, not trapped, he can walk out any second, he can leave if he wants to, he can)- he’s alone in an office with his new boss.

This is fine. He took this job because he’d known the Senator of Alderaan for two years now, two years in which he has been nothing but good to Fox. He is nothing like the Chancellor was.

But, despite everything, he cannot ignore the fact that Palpatine had been kind to him too, far kinder to him than many people had been, and had given him lots of chances where he hadn’t deserved them.

Fox can leave.

He knows this. He does.

-

The war had ended three months ago, when Wolffe’s chip had malfunctioned, and Plo Koon had gone on a protective rampage that had ended with the Chancellor dead.

He’d been a Sith lord, apparently.

Initially, Fox had found this quite hard to believe; he’d had been so welcoming, had called Fox by his name (whenever he didn’t mess up too badly), and had been far more patient than he could ever justify.

“Fox,” Wolffe had said, more softly than he had ever heard him speak, sitting across from Fox’s bed in the Jedi’s Halls of Healing, a fresh bandage on his head from where his chip had been removed, “he tortured you.”

Fox had said nothing, merely pushing his skinny arms under the soft blankets so that the lightning scars and needle marks hadn’t been visible. As terrified as he’d been of the man, the Chancellor had never done anything to him he hadn’t deserved, and, even if he hadn’t liked it, Fox had known it - Palpatine had made sure he understood how forgiving he had been.

Then, Master Che had shown him the inhibitor chip that had been inside his brain, and the screen of the datapad that Mereel Skirata had connected to it, the Null Clone having sliced through the security measures easier than breathing. The datapad showed the chip had been used regularly, to make him hurt people, to make him forget large swathes of time.

Later, Fox would blame the surgery for the fact that he spent the next few minutes shaking as he threw up bile into the refresher.

When he could speak, he’d explained what Palpatine had done, explained that he’d run lots of tests on Fox with the most advanced medical droids, droids who had been helping him to get better.

“Did they actually make you feel better?” Vokara Che had asked.

Fox had thought about his creeping suspicions, about the fact that he’d tried not to wonder if the tests and the treatments were what had been making him even more dizzy and disorientated, making his fatigue dig its claws ever deeper into him.

He’d thrown up again.

So, Palpatine was a Sith Lord who had been hurting him for his own sick amusement. Okay.

This didn’t mean that he was wrong though, this didn’t mean that Fox wasn’t a failure.

—

When Organa tells him the shift pattern, Fox lets himself frown.

“So, I’m only going to be working eight hours a day,” he clarifies.

Organa nods. “Technically, it is only seven hours in total, when you include breaks, which of course you will be paid for.”

Well that- that made no sense. Why would Fox be given breaks when he was working for such a short amount of time, and paid ones no less? This had to be some kind of trick… but Senator Organa had never been known for those, so what was this?

“And when I pass my ‘probation’-” there is a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach that says he won’t. He would have been decommissioned for his mistakes long ago if Palpatine hadn’t wanted to watch him suffer- “I presume I will be moving up to doubles or triples.”

“No,” Organa says, face very calm in the way it only gets when he is very angry with someone in the Senate, but he doesn’t want to show it. Fox stiffens. “There will be a few events that require longer hours, special occasions or festivals and the like, but you will not be working sixteen hour shifts. Aside from the fact that it is illegal, it would not be in my best interests for the people guarding me to be exhausted.”

“Yes, sir,” he agrees automatically, but there’s a deeply jaded part inside of him that just laughs. That’s never going to be true.

“The way Palpatine-” Organa all but spits his name- “and my esteemed colleagues treated you is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

—

When Senator Organa had offered him the job after three months of medically-mandated downtime, Fox had leapt at the chance, despite the fact that half of him was screaming at him to stay away from Natborns, and the Senate building most of all.

But he’d always been pretty good at pushing past his fear, he’d never have made it out of training if he hadn’t.

The last few months had been strange. At first, he’d been on medical leave, forbidden from looking after his men until Master Che had fully understood the effects of the Chancellor’s experiments. And then, there had been no more Coruscant Guard.

Learning of the chips had shaken the Republic, and the Clone sections of the GAR had been quickly disbanded. It had only been at the pushing of the Jedi, concerned Senators such as Organa, Amidala and Chuchi, and - most surprisingly of all - members of the general public, that the mass ‘decommissioning’ had only been a discharge from the military. They were luckier still that them leaving the army had necessitated the Republic granting them citizenship, and - to prevent them roaming around as Separatist mercenaries or some such ridiculous idea - they had been given accommodation and a ‘small’ amount of money each month.

Looking at the amount of money he now had in his bank account (something that was quite difficult to secure with biometrics) Fox wondered what natborns considered a ‘lot’ of money - perhaps it would be the ‘starting salary’ Bail was going to pay him.

His brothers had done their best to integrate him into civilian life. One of the first things he and the other ex-Corrie Commanders had done was to go and see a holo about an imaginary war. It probably hadn’t been a good idea, as they’d all spent the entire time complaining about the unrealisticness of tactics and the injuries the characters suffered. But, at least how terrible it had been meant that none of them had gone into battle shock.

Next, Fox and Cody had tried laser tag. It was like combat sims, but for Natborns, and the training bolts weren’t meant to hurt at all (which seemed a bit stupid - how were you meant to learn to dodge them if you didn’t have a proper reason to?). They’d shown up at the same time as a party of Twi’lek cadets, none of whom had wanted to split up and join their team. That had been fine, Fox and Cody had obliterated them 2 v 15… or would have, if they hadn’t been asked to leave when Fox had started to climb on the scenery to get a better vantage point.

When they’d gone for drinks at 79s afterwards, they’d decided to claim it a victory nonetheless.

But most of the time, Fox had slept. He wasn’t quite sure why - he’d survived just fine on an average of four hours a night for a year.

Okay, okay, even he wasn’t stubborn enough to claim that he’d been fine - he’d felt awful, the fatigue like an anchor in his bones, dragging him under the seas of Kamino - but surely he’d slept enough. Surely months on he shouldn’t be wanting to spend most of his time in bed.

“Burnout,” Master Che had called it.

“Your body was pushed to the limit for over a year, Fox. It’s gonna need some time to recover,” Risk had said.

Whatever, Fox had had enough time. He hated it, the sitting around doing nothing. Okay, he didn’t hate all of it, he loved being able to spend time with his brothers, but he hated enough of it. It was making him antsy, day after day with no purpose.

Fox had been designed to protect Natborns, to feel armour on his body and a blaster on his hip, and without that purpose he was nothing. He hadn’t even been able to protect his brothers, they’d been getting along just fine without him.

So, when Bail Organa had offered him the job, despite the tightening in his chest, he’d felt like he was finally able to breathe again.

—

There isn’t much different about providing security for Bail Organa than there was running security in the senate.

Okay, that isn’t true. There is a lot that’s different, but the security aspect is the same at least, lots of thinking about exits, vantage points, coordinating with a team.

The team he works with is no longer his brothers which is- which is fine . He spends his whole day with Natborns but nothing bad happens, not exactly. 

They offer him caff, which Fox always refuses because he can never tell if they are joking or not, and in any case the shiny caff machine in the kitchenette is too nice for the likes of him. They try to ask him about his life, but the few times Fox’s answers are longer than monosyllabic leave them staring at him like he’s weird and defective, and it makes his skin crawl and his heart race. He knows well that it’s never a good thing to be deviant, so he makes himself as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, from then on only joining in on conversations about work.

When the others take breaks they chat to each other, or watch something on their holopads if they’re alone. Fox doesn’t. When he's told to take a break, he sits in a corner somewhere, reading the latest updates about security and weaponry, and all the dangers that could threaten Senator Organa, unable to risk looking idle. It’s alright for Natborns to relax, it’s never been okay for him. He only starts hesitantly munching on a single ration bar in his lunch period when the others make a fuss about it - he doesn’t need this much food, but it’s better not to get noticed.

They haven’t hurt him, yet, or done anything to show him his place in their hierarchy - unlike what’s happened to some of his Corries that have tried to get jobs on Coruscant - which he supposes he’s grateful for. One month in and he’s almost wondering if he can relax around them.

He can never truly relax though. And though he’s made sure he’s always punctual and his behaviour perfect, there’s always a voice in the back of his head telling him this won’t last, that he’ll do something wrong and everything will go back to how it’s always been.

It hasn’t. Yet. In fact, Fox has made quite a few small errors - or things he knows other Senators would have considered errors - and no one has picked him up on them. It’s strange, disorientating, it almost makes him feel more unsafe. The voice in the back of his head starts to hope that he’ll fuck something big up soon, just so this facade will end, just so he can see how things really are, they can get back to how they were supposed to be and he can stop waiting.

Honestly, he berates himself, there probably isn’t a bigger di’kut than Fox in the entire universe, wanting this calm to end, wanting to be punished for something, it just shows how wrong and broken something inside him is. He should be relishing this relative peace and instead a part of him wants things to go back to how they were before. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. 

He hates himself for it.

-

Despite his initial confusion around the short shifts, he quickly finds himself grateful for them, and dreads the time when more work will inevitably be piled on. 

Whenever he gets back home at the end of the day, he finds he can do little more than collapse on the creaky couch the Corrie Commanders took from their base to their new apartment, wrapping himself up in the soft blankets that cover it. Thorn had bought them all with his first paycheck, to replace the holed and blood-stained throw that they’d acquired and shared during the war, the one that now stays on Fox’s bed. Thire had gaped at it when he’d seen it there, instead of back in the trash where they’d found it, but he’d had to eat his words several nights later after a nightmare - it might look terrible compared to their new brightly-patterned ones, but there’s something comforting about the fact that it had been one of the first things they had been able to call theirs .

The exhaustion is beyond frustrating. Why, when he had once worked for 72 hours straight, can he not cope with eight hours with breaks ?

“You need to be patient with yourself,” Stone says.

Fox pulls the blankets over his head and ignores him.

-

He’s been there almost two months when he wakes up late. It’s fine, he’s fine. He throws on his uniform and probably breaks several traffic laws getting there (but his ident chip is still set to law-enforcement because the CSF hasn’t bothered to change it, and will cancel out any code in the cam-droids that might catch him). He gets to the start of his shift on time.

He hasn’t had his caff though.

This isn’t actually a problem. Whatever his brothers might say, his blood hasn’t actually been replaced by the stuff, and he doesn’t need it to function.

The fancy machine sits in the corner of the kitchenette, taunting him. He doesn’t need it.

His first break comes and goes and his headache grows and his exhaustion doesn’t fade. But Fox is stronger than this - he’s gone through everything Kamino and Coruscant could throw at him and come out the other side.

But, he thinks as the second part of his shift continues, why should he need to be stronger? Everyone has said he’s equal to the Natborns here, everyone has said he’s allowed to drink the caff. So, why not test it? At least then he’ll know, at least then he’ll be able to stop waiting.

So, during his lunch break, he switches on the caff machine. His hands don’t shake, his fingers don’t tap against the worktop, and his breath is steady - he has a lot to thank Kamino for to be honest, it really made him excellent at pretending he isn’t being swallowed up by his own fear.

When he shoves himself into his customary corner he finds that he cannot focus on the article he’s pulled up on his datapad. This is fine, he can just pretend to read it as he sips the delicious caff he can barely taste, as his eyes flicker up to his colleagues as they enter and leave the room.

By the time his break is over his heart is racing, and his limbs are thrumming with an adrenaline he can’t get rid of, but he’s finished his drink. No one’s even much more than glanced at him.

The end of his shift rolls round. In this time, no one’s held him down and poured the boiling water from the caff machine over him, like Senator Apval and his friends had done to Ely early on in the war when the shiny had been naive enough to believe that the offer of a drink was genuine. Fox can still remember his screams as he was treated in the medbay. But the point is, Fox hasn’t been punished for the infraction of pretending he’s as good as a Natborn yet, and a small part of him doesn’t believe he will be.

Then again, Palpatine had liked to let him think he’d gotten away with stuff too.

The next day, Fox has barely slept, but he comes in before the start of his shift with renewed vigour as he makes his way towards the caff machine. He refuses to wait around on tenterhooks anymore. If they are going to remind him of his place, well, he intends to make them get on with it. He pours himself a cup, sits down, drinks it.

No one says anything.

No one says anything the next day, or the next.

At the start of his next shift pattern, Groffith is standing next to the machine, and asks him how he’d like his caff. After a few seconds, Fox tells him.

Perhaps, for some weird reason, his colleagues and employer don’t consider good caff (the most delicious caff he’s ever tasted, to be honest) wasted on Clones.

Who would have thought it?

-

The day Fox has been waiting for comes.

He misses an assassin, whose blaster bolt sears by Senator Organa’s neck. It would have been through his head if Milla hadn’t started pushing him to the ground.

Organa was safe, no thanks to Fox.

Fox is the one to catch the assassin, to put them in binders and hand them over to the incompetence that is the Coruscant Security Force. It isn’t enough. It will never be enough.

He hadn’t checked the surroundings properly. He should have seen them, should have noticed.

If there had been a call that close with any other Senator-

If there had been a call that close with the Chancellor-

As his head starts to spin, he wonders how there could have been a part of him that wanted this to happen, have wanted him to fuck up this badly.

I’m sorry, Fox wanted to beg, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but the Chancellor had usually hated it when he’d done that.

He’s alone, with Senator Organa, who’s sitting behind his desk. Fox is standing straight backed on the opposite side, and hasn’t so much as twitched since they’d entered the office. Organa pulls out two glasses and a decanter from his bottom desk drawer and pours a small measure of alcohol into both.

“Sit down, Fox,” he orders, his tone exhausted as he wipes a hand across his forehead. To be honest, Fox isn’t quite sure how to move, it’s probably only his body’s long experience of obeying orders that allows him to.

He sits there, tense, waiting for Organa to speak because he knows he can’t.

“Please drink, you look like you need it even more than I do,” the Senator says, but all Fox can do is stare at it. He usually likes alcohol, the burn of it seeming to soak into his veins and calm him, but sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he has days like today where all he can remember is being forced to drink things that made him feel disorientated and sick, but he is being ordered, and so he has to.

Fox cannot move, cannot make himself reach out and take the glass. His arm muscles feel as if they might snap.

Organa drains his own glass and lets it clunk on the table.

“I’m sorry,” Fox manages to say. “I should have seen them waiting on the balcony. I-”

He cuts off. What he is meant to say, what he should be saying to the Natborn is what he’s been trained his whole life to say, that he accepts whatever consequences Organa sees fit, but he doesn’t seem to get the words out. They stick in his throat as he realises just how afraid he is, a fact that is utterly ridiculous, Fox had never let his fear take over him like this before. But suddenly, with no one hurting him for the past eight months, he has become weak and afraid. 

Force, he’s pathetic.

Organa sighs. “Well, I can’t say I enjoyed almost getting shot. But these things do happen, and any fault that doesn’t lie with the person who actually tried to murder me isn’t entirely yours - the other three guards on shift could have spotted them as well.”

Fox frowns - he shouldn’t be, shouldn’t be expressing any confusion towards the Natborn, but he can’t help himself - this isn’t how it goes. Whenever there are other Natborns around it is always the Clones, always Fox, who gets the blame.

“Thank you for catching them.”

Fox just nods.

Organa calls Cody to come and pick him up.

-

Fox continues to come to work and be treated with respect. He keeps drinking the caff from the fancy machine. No one says anything. One day he comes in late. No one seems to pick up on this.

-

He does end up pulling a double shift, in the end. There isn’t much for it otherwise considering that numerous bounty hunters are trying to kill them (or rather, Senator Organa, and by extension, everyone guarding him).

By some miracle, he and all of his colleagues make it out alive. The bounty hunters, Fox acknowledges with a smirk, had not all been so lucky. It hasn’t been a bad day, all in all. Adrenaline has been rushing through his veins, but in such a way that it makes him feel alive. Fox is happy, and satisfied, and when he falls into bed in the early hours he sleeps deeply.

He wakes the next morning after four hours sleep, groggy and disorientated, feeling shivery, achy and exhausted. When he struggles to pull himself out of bed, Stone calls Risk, who starts running tests. They take far too long for Fox’s liking.

“I can go to work,” he insists, wondering why they are even having this conversation. “I’ve felt worse, you know I have. I’m not that ill.”

“You’re not technically ill,” Risk frowns, looking at his test results. “Your body’s just reacting against what you did yesterday, it’s warning you not to run yourself into the ground like you did last year.”

Fox actually gapes at him. “Kriffing- Karking- Shabla nu dar’haat, Risk, let me out of this bed. I kriffing survived on a couple of hours sleep every night for two years and this is what my body does now. Ha. No. Kark that.”

Risk shrugs, but surprisingly allows Fox to push past him and stumble towards the kitchen. “It’s not bullshit if it’s true!”

When he gets there, Thire is taking a holocall. “- yeah so he won’t be in today, but I’m sure he’ll be able to let you know whether he’ll be able to make the rest of the week later today.”

Fox feels his blood turn to ice as Thire hangs up.

“That was Organa wasn’t it?”

“Yeah he-”

Fox dives for the comlink, but Thire dodges, slipping it into his pocket, so instead he finds himself throwing him backwards to crash against the oven, blood pounding in his ears. 

“Give me my kriffing comlink you kriffing shabuir!”

Fox is the better fighter, usually, but Thire has the advantage of not feeling like absolute shit. Fox is also pretty sure the room isn’t spinning slightly for him either.

He finds himself dragged backwards, away from Thire, even as he desperately tries to struggle free. Stone, who’s gripping his right arm and shoulder blade in such a way as to almost immobilise him, tells him to calm down.

“Calm down!” Fox spits, anger searing through his veins. “Do you know what he’s just done!? I can’t have a day off, I can’t. Organa won’t let me. I’ll cost him money, I won’t be worth the credits. Stone. Stone you know this. You know we can’t be ill. Stone, tell him, Stone!”

There is a part of Fox that is aware he sounds almost hysterical, that is berating himself for acting like this. He’d never have done this last year, he’d never have broken down like this. He would have thought rationally, and just taken himself over to Organa’s or something. But last year Thire would never have dreamed of acting like this either. What the kriff had gotten into him. They weren’t people who could just take ‘days off’ if they felt a bit ‘under the weather’.

“Organa said it was fine,” Thire argues, like he doesn’t know you shouldn’t ever trust Natborns, even the ones that paid you and let you drink their fancy coffee and didn’t have you beaten or your men decommissioned for almost failing to stop an assassination attempt. “And if he dares hurt you for it, I’ll tell Master Yoda, or get Mereel to override the security and let Jar Jar lose in his office. Or, I’ll go to the Senate and make sure he regrets it myself.”

Fox gapes at him, watching the blood trickle from Thire’s nose where his elbow had caught him.

“We can’t trust him,” his voice is almost pleading. “We can’t.”

“Then why did you agree to work for him, Fox?” Risk asks.

Fox grits his teeth and refuses to answer.

-

Organa greets him warmly when he returns to work, his body feeling better, but his mind swimming with a terror he barely has under control. Fox sighs internally. He used to have a much better handle on things, he used to walk into Palpatine’s office knowing he was going to be tort… knowing that his behaviour was going to be corrected, with barely a glimmer of anxiety, his head feeling as if it was somewhere else entirely. He used to be completely in control.

He grits his teeth, Organa has greeted him warmly and asked how he is. He hasn’t ordered him into his office to explain to Fox exactly why his behaviour is lacking, and he won’t. Risk is right. This is why he took the job. He trusts Organa.

He’s just not sure how to get his body to realise that.

Instead of punishing him, later that day the Senator informs him he needs to make an urgent trip back to Alderaan the next day, and asks if he would like to be one of the security guards accompanying him on the mission (Fox obviously says yes, but he would have said yes anyway, even if he hadn’t been afraid). Organa also informs him that - whether Fox is able to come or not - the ship he’s travelling on has more than enough space, so if any of his brothers would like free transport to visit Alderaan, they are more than welcome.

When Fox gets back home that day, Thire teases him for worrying for no reason as he hands him a cup of hot-choklad. Fox rolls his eyes, he knows his vod’ika doesn’t mean anything by it. Thire has his own issues. He spends most of his time with the cadets at the temple, and won’t ever go near the Senate building again, has told Fox he wishes he could burn it to the ground, hates that he can’t because he thinks too hard about the collateral damage, doesn’t understand how Fox can walk through its halls day after day.

Fox doesn’t know either. It probably has something to do with the fact he doesn’t know what else he’d do with his time, and the fact that it did offer him things such as a front row seat to Senator Apval’s arrest in the Rotunda following a joint investigation by Senators Amidala and Chuchi. He can’t help but smirk every time he remembers the expression on the man’s face as his arrest was broadcast live over the holonet.

-

The next month, life day is approaching, and Fox is told he has to take part in ‘team-building’. Fox would say he was rather good at this, when it involves having to get an injured squad member from one side of the training grounds to the other, when all the time the training droids are shooting at you. He isn’t so sure about an ‘escape room’.

Fox and five of his colleagues end up ‘locked’ in a room, and told they have 60 minutes to escape. He finds himself grimacing - this would be so much easier if he were just allowed to kick the door down. He glances at his team members. He knows so much about them - their families, their favourite holonet shows, what they like to eat - but only from listening to them talk to each other. Since the beginning Fox has kept himself separate. He knows stuff about them, but they don’t know him.

The others are very good at all the cultural references that Fox can’t get, which is a relief, because they wouldn’t be escaping otherwise and the ‘team-building’ exercise would be pointless.

What is surprising, is that when Fox is asked to help them with the logic puzzles, and he manages to do them far more quickly than any of them, they don’t seem angry. If Fox has learnt anything in the first 12 years of his life, it is that Natborns tended to hate it when a clone outsmarts them, but these guys don’t seem to. In fact, they are ecstatic when him solving one of the puzzles gets them into the final part of the room. 

He supposes it’s okay when your skills mean that real people can also be successful. But then, these guys have always surprised him. Despite the fact that they look at him weirdly when he talks sometimes, they have always tried to include him in their banter, and they’ve never hurt him.

When they escape, with 7 minutes 52 seconds to spare, they invite him out for a drink. Feeling unusually confident, Fox goes with them. He orders something non-alcoholic (unwilling to get drunk in a bar that isn’t 79s), but so do two of the others, so he guesses this is okay.

They play darts in one of the corners, and, at the start Fox makes sure he loses deliberately. That is until it becomes a competition between them and a group of strangers who drunkenly bet a round of drinks that they can do better than them. Fox wipes the floor with them, and Bess hoists him on their shoulders as they cheer and accept the drinks.

Fox is starting to think he might be having fun at a bar without his brothers, which is a bit of a novel experience.

“You know,” Groffith says, sipping his drink as he sits beside him at one of the high tables. “You’re alright. You should come out with us more often, kid.” Fox finds himself bristling at the last part but the man only laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. He deliberately doesn’t flinch at the contact. “I don’t mean anything by it. I’m 143 and your hair barely has any grey in it. I’ve seen you fight, I know you’re skilled.”

He sighs, staring into his glass. “You should come out with us more. We like you around. You just- You’re just not very easy to get to know, gotta whole lot of walls around you and when you let them down you tell us stuff like that kriffing Orn Free Taa used to-” He cuts himself off again with a shake of his head. “I guess we just don’t know what to say to stuff like that. We’ve seen a lot of shit but what they used to do to you Clones, that’s fucked up, man. So. You’re gonna stick around with us, right?”

There’s a lump in Fox’s throat. All he can do is nod.

It is then a new group of Natborns approach them, drunk, but not in the reckless and easygoing way the darts group had been earlier, these five have eyes full of hatred when they look at Fox, and their mouths are set into a snarl.

“We don’t like meat-droids here,” one of them says, shoving Fox off his stool. His push is weak and uncoordinated, and if he had had any real choice in this, Fox wouldn’t have let himself fall. But as it is, he just goes with it. Long experience has shown him that in situations like these, it's better if a Clone doesn’t defend themselves, if they just wait for it to be over and hope the Natborn’s thirst for violence is easily satisfied.

Groffith doesn’t seem to have got this memo, and when Fox looks up from the floor it’s to see him punching the guy square in the face.

-

Six months after Fox had first started his job as Bail Organa’s security guard, he finds himself seated across from him in his office. There’s a datapad in between them. If Fox didn’t know that Senator Organa appreciated eye contact, he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off him.

“Obviously, this appraisal is nothing to worry about,” Organa says, because clearly Fox isn’t doing a good job at hiding how tense he is. “As your employer I’m mandated by bureaucracy to do one every six months. This also serves as the end of your probation period, which clearly you’ve passed with flying colours.”

“What?” The question is out before he realises it and Fox can do nothing but wince as he looks down at the datapad. There’s a table on it, with tick boxes. All the ticks have been put in the ‘excellent’ category.

“This can’t be right,” Fox says, as he grips his legs tightly to stop his hands from shaking. He’s spent weeks and weeks thinking about this, about how Organa hasn’t brought up any ways he’s disappointed with him before, but this meeting was sure to be the perfect time.

“It is,” Organa replies, voice calm. “Fox, I contacted you to offer you this job because I saw how you worked in the Senate, your competence never ceased to impress me. Throughout these past months I have continued to be impressed by your abilities and your work ethic.” Fox was somewhat aware that he had moved his gaze back up to Bail Organa’s and he was now openly gaping at him. “Though, I will admit, perhaps I should add a box for confidence, and then say that ‘requires improvement’.”

He smiled at Fox. Despite himself, Fox found himself smiling back.

Next, Organa updated Fox’s holo-badge to show, in small-print aurebesh, that he was now a permanent member of his Guard. Fox couldn’t help but stare at it, wondering how all this had happened.

When he left the office, his badge wasn’t on his belt, but clutched in his palm. Physical, tangible proof that Fox could be good at something.

It was back in his palm when he went to bed that evening. He stared at it as the words glowed with a faint light. Fox. Security Guard for Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan.

He thought back to the review, back to all the boxes. ‘Excellent’, ‘Excellent’, ‘Excellent’, ‘Excellent’... He’d never even believed it possible, thought it only a matter of time before he turned out to be as useless at this job as he had been as leader of the Coruscant Guard.

Though, thinking about it, maybe he hadn’t been useless as leader of the Guard. Thorn had told him to look at all the kriffing shinies he’d saved from de-com. Cody had thrown back his head and laughed, asked him to explain how Fox could have done any better when he’d had to deal with a karking sith lord fucking with his head every day. Perhaps, Fox thinks, he should start making a bigger effort to believe them.

He sits, turning the badge over and over, smiling slightly as he wonders about the future, and thinks that it might not be that bad after all.

“Get more of those plush animals like your little bee,” Thire says to him from the opposite bunk. “You can’t sleep with a bloodstained blanket and your work-badge.”

Fox lobs a pillow at him.