#shy tup

[nooneherebutaghost]

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: CT-6922 | Dogma/CT-5385 | Tup Characters: CT-6922 | Dogma, CT-5385 | Tup, Original Clone Trooper Additional Tags: Earrings, Ficlet, Established Relationship, Not Beta Read

Summary:

Dogma and Tup plan to get matching earrings - both a small step and gesture of their relationship to one another. It's just a shame that Tup can't stand being in pain.

[mori-does-sw]

CLONE CRUSHES: TORRENT COMPANY

PAIRING \ Torrent Company x GN!Reader (Rex, Fives, Echo, Kix, Hardcase, Jesse, Tup) SYNOPSIS \ How the troopers of Torrent Company act when they have a crush on you. WARNING(S) \ None AUTHOR'S NOTE \ This took me an insanely long time to finish, but here we are! Yes, the Mon Gala is a reference to the Met Gala. I am inordinately proud of it.

CAPTAIN REX

Rex is awkward—awkward around you when he realizes how strong his feelings are and awkward doing anything about it. He does more fumbling than flirting in the beginning, stuck in his head and panicking about it, but he gets more comfortable over time.

Give him a break, he’s doing his best.

Despite being standoffish in his affections, Rex is a gentleman and he’ll prove it to you in a million little actions. When you’re commuting through Coruscant, he’ll always walk on the side of you closest to traffic. If there aren’t enough seats of everyone at a group gathering, he would immediately get up and give you his. The second that you admit to being cold, he’s giving you some of his spare blacks.

Speaking of letting you borrow his clothes… seeing you wearing them for the first time almost breaks his brain. He just stands there and stares at you, eyes wide and head buzzing. All he can think about is how karking gorgeous you are, and how he can get you to replace your entire wardrobe with his stuff.

Later, he tells you that you can “just keep it”, and that he has plenty of replacements. He is not subtle at all, and thus deserves all the shit he’s going to get for it.

Rex doesn’t often show up to plans that aren’t mission-critical, not unless a few members of Torrent Company drag him along. Or, if he knows that you’re going to be there.

He could be at the Mon Gala, with all the most famous and wealthy beings on Coruscant, and he’ll literally just show up and talk to you the entire time. If he can’t, if he’s trapped in a conversation that’s actually important or you’re pulled away, he’ll watch from a distance until he can make his way back.

Rex knows his priorities. With a little luck, he might just become as important to you as you are to him.

ARC TROOPER ECHO

Echo’s feelings are pretty contained, much like the trooper himself, but the way he looks at you gives it all away.

You can be doing anything and he’ll be staring at you with literal heart eyes, but he can’t help it. You’re cute. He’ll watch you go about your life, perfectly intent until the warmth in his chest spills over and forces his gaze away to sort through his thoughts.

He’s on the other side of the damn room and you’ve somehow made him go all shy.

Echo’s observant—kind of has to be, as an ARC trooper—and he’ll catalog every habit of yours down to the littlest detail. A part of him craves the intimacy of knowing everything about you, something that fuels his quiet delight at being able to suss out what you’re thinking when others can’t. 

More often than not, his insight into you catches you off guard. Convincing others that you aren’t scared out of your mind is practically a job requirement, but somehow, you can never fool Echo. Not even your bravest face can convince him that you don’t need to lean on him, tell him your frustrations, or hold hands under the table.

Usually, Echo keeps to himself, a little closed off to anyone but his closest vode. But the minute you walk into the room, his mood immediately brightens. He’s quicker to smile and laugh; it’s like all his stress melts away, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of Torrent Company.

Hardcase has sneakily captured more than a few clips of you two, edited over with so many pink filters and glitter hearts that you’re barely recognizable, and circulated them among the vode.

It doesn’t matter if Echo tries to scour them from the holonet, they become so well-known that clones from entirely different battalions will ask him about his cyare.

He's eternally grateful for the Prime’s dark complexion—you don’t even have to lift a finger to get under his skin. You fluster him too easily. He’s helpless but to forgive you, though, when you smile at him the way you do.

ARC TROOPER FIVES

Fives could care less whether other people are laughing at him or with him—he knows he’s hilarious, and that’s enough to satisfy his ego. The only person who makes him uncharacteristically self-conscious is, well, you.

Yes, Echo has (and will) tease him endlessly for this.

Whenever he’s around you, he’d feel an undeniable urge to do one thing: make you laugh. He cracks a joke and immediately peeks over to gauge your reaction. If he succeeds in making you chuckle, snort, or even just breathe a little harder out of your nose, he lights up. You’re gorgeous when you laugh, even more so when it’s because of him. He can’t help but double down on the bit until you’re too weak to breathe.

Complaining about your sides hurting only prompts him to apologize for “being too funny for you to handle”.

Fives is an incorrigible flirt on a good day, but when he’s around you it becomes 1000% worse. He’s guilty of every cheesy move in the playbook—pretending to yawn and stretch so that he can put his arm around your shoulders, asking you to “hold something” and taking your offered hand in his, or even faux-demanding that you kiss his injuries better. 

He means everything he says, but he’s very careful to make his overtures playful. Fives doesn’t want to scare you away if you don’t feel the same.

Being near to you puts him at ease, soothes an itch he didn’t even realize he had before you both met. He unconsciously seeks out contact with you all the time, pressing his knee to your under the table, bumping shoulders, playing with the fabric of your sleeves. Small things.

So, he’s touchy, and about half of the time he doesn’t even realize it. Why should he, when he’s always shared contact freely with his vode? 

Maybe he makes just one too many comments, gets a little too comfortable in your personal space, gives in to his desire to see you flustered—but when you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, he’s toast. Smile a bit, touch him, and Fives goes from a cocky, formidable ARC trooper to a stammering cadet.

He’s kind of okay with his brain melting, though, because you’re so pleased with yourself. And although he’s hot-faced and grinning like an idiot, he’s your idiot.

LIEUTENANT JESSE

Much like Fives, Jesse is a joker—one of his favorite activities is making fun of you, and in a way that implies you’re the one who’s crushing instead of him. It’s merciless, especially when the rest of Torrent company catch on to the bit. Getting flustered only makes it worse, easier for him to tease you about “getting nervous around him”.

Watch what you say when he’s around, because anything that could be construed as innuendo will be. Ask an innocent question about if clone armor is hot to wear, and watch Jesse’s smirk grow as he says: “I think I should be asking you that, sugar.”

It’s kind of a way for him to test you, figure out how the idea of liking him affects you.

His vode discover his true feelings when he actually shares his food with you, sometimes without you even having to ask. It’s kind of mindboggling to see the same guy who threatened Kix for stealing his rations readily let you eat from his plate.

He’d be so happy if you shared your food with him, too. Even more so if you bring him things that aren’t rations. The closest he’s ever come to straight-up confessing his love for you is when you got a box of Mandalorian uj cake for him because he’d never tried it.

However, playful, joking Jesse can become a no-nonsense bodyguard at the drop of a hat. He has a protective streak a mile long, something that drives him to shield his brothers from allies and enemies alike, and more recently, you. 

Jesse is intimidating as haran, built like a tank and covered with tattoos, and it’s made so much worse when someone’s targeting you. He’s not afraid to get in people’s faces about it, either, over two hundred pounds of ARC fueled by rage and spite. A little “chat” is all they need to get them to apologize to you—though, in Jesse’s expert opinion, they don’t deserve your forgiveness.

All of his bravado melts when you quietly thank him for defending you. That’s his job, sugar, and don’t you forget it.

CLONE MEDIC KIX

Between carrying out his duty to the Republic and ensuring his idiot vode don’t keel over and die, Kix neither has the time nor the energy to be throwing himself at his crush. Even without his job running him ragged, he wouldn’t be the type—no matter how intense his feelings are.

Rather, Kix courts you. From a distance.

While Kix may not have much in terms of credits, he’ll do everything in his power to make your life a little easier; By virtue of his authority and near-legendary status amongst the troops, he has a lot of influence on his side. And if that doesn’t work, well… there’s many reasons why you don’t piss off a medic.

Little acts of service are it for him. Before you even get to the refractory, he’s set aside your favorite “flavor” of ration bar to ensure they don’t run out. If you complain about being tired, you’ll find an extra cup of caff—or a sedative—sitting innocently on your desk. 

Struggling with the mountain of stuff you’re carrying? Kix is hauling whatever items are in reach into his arms before you even ask for help. About to miss the turbolift? He’ll hold the door for you and glare at his vode if they complain too much.

Need a hand to hold during a procedure? Don’t worry honey, he’s got you.

Kix loves that you treat his time with respect, but sometimes getting you all to himself is a high-stakes negotiation. You’ll bicker back and forth, him insisting that no, you’re not intruding on him or his brothers, and you trying to reassure him that he isn’t obligated to hang out with you if he’s too tired or doesn’t want to be around natborns. He knows he isn’t, but you’re oblivious to how much he wants to.

Kix would get so slick about stealing you away. When he has the opportunity, he’ll casually strike up a conversation about field medicine and- oh, you don’t remember that training session? Well, he has a blank space on his schedule today and he’s more than happy to slot you in for a little extra help.

He’d be (quietly) over the moon if you decided to slip into his office and chat with him while he tears through paperwork or runs labs. While he fantasizes about hopes to take you out on a proper date someday, he’s content to bottle up your laughter as he complains about di’kute vode, hoarding the memory for the darkest moments of the war.

CLONE TROOPER HARDCASE

Congratulations! With Hardcase crushing on you, you’ve snagged a two-in-one deal: A personal hype man and an overexcited puppy.

In Hardcase’s eyes you’re superior at everything you do, period. He insists that you’re the best at your job any chance he gets, even going so far as to volunteer your name whenever some mission needs your kind of expertise—annoying, but it’s hard to stay mad at him for long.

Your competence is really attractive to him, and sometimes he forgets you’re not together and lets a few comments slip. Hardcase doesn’t even realize what he’s said after the fact, oblivious to the fact that your face feels like it’s been dipped in lava when he admires “how kriffing good you are at that” and how “hot” it is.

He praises you so much for doing the most mundane things, it’s like a compulsion for him. You could be helping tape him up after a battle and he’s making little observations about how perfect your wrapping is and how gentle you are with him.

Kix overhears this and tells him that he’d better go to you for wound dressing than the medbay, if you’re so much better at it. He just might, if that means he could get you to touch him again.

Hardcase loves your attention, and occasionally that translates into him being intentionally annoying. He’ll pop up all the time when he’s off duty, making himself at home in your office or at your side and bothering you to your wit’s end. He’ll hide your stylus and make you chase him around to get it, or he’ll call you acting as if he has something important to tell you and then manage to keep you on the line for an hour.

The second it seems like you’re getting upset at him, however, he cuts the crap immediately. If you’re not having fun, he’s not having fun, and he wants to make that abundantly clear to you in case… just in case it turns out you’re interested in him the same way he’s interested in you.

CLONE TROOPER TUP

Tup might not be as confident as Kix, or as widely renowned as Rex, or as charismatic as Fives and Echo… and that knowledge can weigh heavily on him. Thinking that, compared to his brothers, he doesn’t have much to offer you is part of why he hesitates to act on his feelings.

Take these thoughts with a mountain of salt—Tup excels at something else, and that’s being an absolute sweetheart. His patience is near-infinite when it comes to you. He’s always happy to explain something (however many times you need) and is the first to lend you a hand if you’re struggling.

Just don’t read too much into his full-body flinches whenever your fingers brush his, the way his words stumble when you get too close.

Being a standard, rank-and-file trooper makes it all the more difficult for him to even imagine catching your eye, but ironically, his status gives him unique opportunities. Doing grunt work around the ship means that you often cross paths, affording him the chance to say hello or strike up a passing conversation. If he’s lucky, he gets the chance to be beside you throughout his shift.

It’s useless to try and thank him for any of his help, he’ll just duck his head and insist that he’s more than happy to give you a hand. Your praise, however, has him sporting a smug little grin for the rest of the day,

The man melts under your hands like butter. You can convince him to do anything if you ask nicely enough, and on more than one occasion he’s left. He regrets it only when you’re half in his lap and doodling on his bare arm, too focused to notice his increasingly flustered demeanor even as you scold him for fidgeting. 

Privately, you worry that people are going to use Tup as a doormat—but if you mention it to the rest of Torrent, their hysterical laughter will shut you up fast. 

Don’t blame them too much, though. The last time Fives mimicked a whip cracking sound within Tup’s hearing range, he was applying bacta for weeks.

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Red Dress

Summary: They may have your attention, but it's his fingers inside you under the table.

Pairing: Fives x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism, drinking, alcohol, Fives being cocky, confession of feelings, just a little jealousy

A/N: I've never written for Fives before so please bear with me. Welcoming myself back from my break with a bang, pun intended. I am also utilizing medic!reader once more just because I can.

MASTERLIST

The first time he sees you in that dress, he knows he’s screwed.  

He has Kix to thank for everything. He had been the one to convince you to come out with them in the first place. You, the 501st’s new medic, who had quickly won the hearts of the entire legion with your gentle touches and soft reassurances. You who asked their names and remembered them. You with that infectious smile, and the soft laugh that rang out at even the lamest jokes. 

They had all mutually agreed they would start a war for you. 

Fives was no less enamored with you than his brothers. You laughed at his jokes, and got shy when he lightly teased and flirted. He had once asked you to kiss his freshly bandaged wound, entirely joking, but he’ll never forget how you raised his arm to press a soft kiss to the bandage. 

His stomach still flips thinking about it. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to join them on shore leave. They were headed to 79s as usual, waiting on a few stragglers, including Kix. He hadn’t been expecting you to be following the medic down the ramp, but as soon as he sees you, he forgets all his impatience. 

His eyes widen, jaw going slack as you slowly make your way down the ramp. The others notice, turning to see just what’s caught his attention.

The dress is a little satin number that hugs every curve and slope of your body perfectly. The thin straps and sloping neckline reveal more skin than he’s ever seen before, the hem falling halfway down your thighs. 

It’s also red. 

A deep, sinful red that Fives already knows is going to draw the gaze of everyone in the bar. His hands tighten into fists, his pants tightening just a bit as well. 

“I didn’t think you’d mind if I invited our favorite medic along.” Kix says, drawing his attention, and everyone else’s. 

“No.” Hardcase says, the vision of you in the dress having silenced even him. “Not at all.” 

Fives resists the urge to punch Hardcase as he slips an arm around your shoulders, guiding you to the transport. 

This is going to be a long night. 

***

Fives had been right in his prediction that you would gain the attention of the entire bar. He was quick to notice just how much you shied from the attention, but he knew he and his brothers were not going to share. 

They squish you into the center of the booth, silently glaring away any trooper, shiny or not, that even glances your way. You seem happily unaware of it as you sit between Jesse and Tup. They’re laying it on thick, Jesse’s arm stretched across the back of the booth behind you. 

Fives’ hand tightens around his glass as Jesse leans in, saying something quietly to you. You get that bashful look on your face again, fingers trailing through the condensation on your glass. You’ve barely finished one glass of the cheap beer the bar provided to the clones. 

Fives gets his moment when Tup excuses himself from the table for a bathroom break and Jesse is sent to the bar for the next round. He quickly shuffles into the booth next to you, so close you’re almost touching. You turn to look at him, eyes shining in the dim light above the table. 

“You alright?” He asks, leaning in a bit so you can hear him over the music. “Are they making you uncomfortable?” 

You shake your head. “No, they’re sweet, I’ve just...had my gaze on someone else for a while.” 

He tilts his head as he stares down at you. “Anyone I know?” 

“Well, he’s a clone.” You say, giving him a cute little smile. 

“Right. That narrows it down.” Fives nods. 

“He’s an ARC trooper.” You continue. 

“Narrows it down more.” Fives says, leaning his arm on the table so he can lean in closer. 

“He’s funny and smart and one of the bravest men I’ve ever met.” You stare up into his eyes, searching for something. “He has the sweetest brown eyes, and a cute little wrinkle between his brows when he frowns.” Your gaze drops to his lips. “He has a goatee, and a tattoo, and quite the unique nickname.” 

Fives smirks, slipping his arm across the back of the booth behind you. His fingers trail along the bare skin of your shoulders, just as soft as he imagined. He leans in closer, watching the goosebumps form on your skin as he leans into your ear. You smell good, the best thing he’s ever smelled. His nose presses into your hair, smelling your sweet scent as his lips brush your ear. 

“I need to hear you say it.” He whispers, fingers tracing patterns across the back of your neck and shoulders. 

You turn your head just slightly, hand dropping to his thigh. “You.” You say it just audible above the thump of the music playing. “It’s you.” 

Fives smirks, pulling back a bit as Jesse returns to the table. Despite the goosebumps on your skin, it’s warm to the touch, Fives brushing your cheek gently as he pulls his arm away. He’s pressed right up against you, his hand slipping under the table to rest against your knee. 

“Tell me to stop.” He says quietly, Jesse taking his spot next to you once more. 

You give him a look that speaks a thousand words, a look he didn’t think you were capable of. He’s glad the table hides everything as his pants suddenly get very tight. You turn your attention to Jesse as he starts speaking to you, Fives getting a refill on his glass and yours as Rex passes around the new pitcher. 

His hand slowly begins to slip higher up your leg, fingers tracing the soft skin. Your legs widen just slightly for his hand, speaking volumes as you continue to entertain Jesse’s story. 

He bites back a groan as he finds the damp fabric between your legs. It’s a bit much to call them underwear, a lacy little number he wants to slip into a pocket later. He rubs you over your panties, your hips shifting just slightly. You disguise it as you reach for your glass, taking another sip of beer. 

He watches the way your hand tightens just slightly around the glass as he pushes the fabric to the side, trailing his fingers along your pussy. He joins in on the conversation as he sinks a finger into your tight heat, your hips shifting just slightly again to give him room. 

You’re good at hiding it, moving subtly with the conversation as he and Jesse go back and forth. If Jesse looked down, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out where his hand is, but thankfully he’s just a little too drunk to be aware of his surroundings. 

You clench tightly around his finger as the rest of the table joins into the conversation, recounting a story of some mission they’d gone on months ago, before you’d joined them. He can see your skin starting to get dewy with sweat, your breath picking up just slightly. You’re soaking his hand, a second finger slipping in easily. 

He watches the column of your throat as you swallow another mouthful of beer, halfway through the glass already. Maker, he wishes he could remove his codpiece, pull you into his lap and make you sit on his cock. What he wouldn’t give to ease you under the table, have those sinful lips wrapped around him. Kriff, he’s one squeeze away from laying you out on the table and fucking you in front of his brothers and the entire bar. 

He curls his fingers inside you, your lips parting as you squeeze around him, your legs shaking under the table. You set your glass back on the table just a little too hard, gaining the attention of the others. 

“You alright, mesh’la?” Hardcase frowns at you in concern. 

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Yeah.” Your voice is breathy, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of your face. “Just starting to feel it a bit.” 

“I didn’t peg you as a lightweight.” Tup says, having returned to the table at some point. 

You shrug, playing off the way your thighs squeeze around his hand. “Never really been much of a drinker before.” 

“Well, we’re just out here corrupting you, aren’t we?” Kix smirks, his voice deep from the alcohol. 

You’re close, your thighs squeezing around his hand as you press your hips against him. “That’s one way of putting it.” You laugh breathlessly. 

Fives curls his fingers again, your face leaning in close to his ear. You let out a quiet little whimper that nearly has him cumming in his pants. Your breath fans against his skin, his hand slipping from your underwear. Oh how he’d love to taste you on his skin. 

“Fresher.” You breathe, already sliding away from him. “Two minutes.” 

He watches you slip out of the booth, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches the others eyes follow your form until you disappear into the crowd.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @annoyinglylegendarygoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

[bon2bonn]

Driver profile : Y/N L/N

Name : Y/N M/N M/L/N

Nicknames : N/N , bella , demon spawn, amour , love , sprout.

Nicknames by fans : Valkyrie, the unofficial official grid mom , Merc queen, red bull princess, angel, f2 grid mom , stargirl .

Age : I estimated her to be around 27 (it's not fixed so you can change it to whatever you like)

Birthday : 23 . October . (Same thing , you can put yours or any other date🤷🏻‍♀️)

Birthplace : Sydney, Australia

Blood type : B+

Languages : fluent in English, french + (language of choice) , basic Dutch , Spanish , and a little bit of Arabic.

Resident : between Monaco, London, New York and Sydney.

Personality : spitfire on track , a power that install fear in the hearts of every team and any driver she's up against , believes in actions and hard work rather than words spewed around , so if you have the balls and nerves to poke her , you better have the results to back you up or you won't see the end of it from her or her fans or the rest of the grid .

Known as The grid keeper/ no#1 mom who keeps them in line but could be found in the midst of chaos leading them with their antics and pranks . off track , she's an introverted small bean that can scare the daylight out of you if you rubbed her the wrong way, shy and closed off is the first impression that everyone gets when meeting her but once you get to know her she's the sweetest and most genuine/spontaneous person you'll ever meet , her RBF hides a gentle kind soul , that makes her the best person to give comfort and assurance even if she denies it. Protective bear of her loved ones and won't stop at anything till she make sure they're okay. She either acts like an old lady that complains about her back and knees , or like a little kid on a sugar rush , it's a normal day to find her around the grid at the most confusing places : climbing motorhomes just because/hiding behind tyres while everyone lose their minds trying to find her /sleeping in an ice tup cause she got too comfortable.

Habits: play with her hands when nervous, pout unconsciously when she's too focused on something, pick at her fingers when uncomfortable/stressed (if close , Charles would give her one of his rings to play with , or others would let her play with their fingers to distract her) , jumps whenever she gets exited, tilt her head when confused, clenches her fists/jaw when she gets irritated ( the guys knows when to interfere to stop her from beating someone), sings/humms absentmindedly through her day , do a little dance when happy, talks to herself in a quiet voice.

Occupation :

Former Formula 1 driver

Years of work : (2015-2022)

Racing biography 🏎️ :

*‌Toro Rosso :

2015 alongside : Max Verstappen #33.

2016 alongside : Carlos Sainz #55.

*‌Renault(alpine) : 2017 alongside : Nico Hülkenberg #27.

*‌Alpha Romeo(sauber) : 2018 alongside : Charles leclerc #16.

‌*Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team : 2019 - July 2022 alongside : Lewis Hamilton #44.

Currently:

• CEO/founder of Ingrid and willows brand (2018-now) .

• CEO and representative of L/N international corps (2022-now) .

•reserved driver for (RBR) Red Bull Racing (2023) .

Hobbies/skills : reading, playing piano, camping, hiking, cooking in general (loves backing) , painting specially with her youngest brother, singing, fast learner , have a very strong memory , is a pro at reading people and could tell their emotions and can almost alway tell when someone's lying , skilled stealthy prankster when provoked (by lando and max)..... .etc .

Family members :

‌father : f/N l/N .

‌mother : m/N M/l/N .

‌older brother: Edward l/N .

‌younger brother: Thomas l/N

Father :

Name : F/N M/N l/N

Occupation: CEO/founder of L/N international corps.

Social status: single father of (Edward , Y/N , Thomas l/N ).

Resident: London , UK.

Name : M/N M/l/N

Occupation: not found.

Social status: not found.

Status: alive .

Resident : Rome, Italy.

Name : Edward/Eddie M/N l/N

Age : 30

Occupation: CEO/founder of wildonwall (a worldwide known professional architectural company that deals in designing/building and supervising projects around the world).

Social Status: married to ( Alison Graham ) , father of two (one boy : Marcus/Marc , one girl : Ingrid/gigi ).

Resident: London , UK.

Name : Thomas/Tommy/ben M/N l/N

Age : 22

Occupation: student of fine arts , Oxford university.

Social status: a single Pringle who don't know how to mingle.

Resident: Monte Carlo , Monaco - London , UK.

Facts and background infos :

‌she's the only daughter of the L/N family , but chose to race with her grandmother's maiden name instead . She wanted to establish herself away from her father's name .

‌very independent , and mature beyond her age .‌

she's the backbone of her family, both her brothers and father own it to her for helping them through their lives .

‌she had a complicated relationship with her mother to say the least, she was the one who suffered the most when she left .

‌her parents split up when she was only 5 . her mom walked away leaving them with her baby brother who was barely months old .

‌her mother tried to forcefully take Eddie (the eldest) along with her while their father was out with Tommy, but he refused to part from his sister , resulting in a very traumatic day for the two kids.

‌she watched her dad as he struggled with taking care of them three , feeling like a failure who couldn't tend to his own children.

‌so she took it up on herself to help him take care, comfort and nurture her baby brother.

‌he tried to get her to live her age but she won't stop worrying about her brother and he won't settle unless she's close .

‌just hearing her voice got him from screaming his lungs out to cooing and giggling.

‌their bond only grew stronger as they grew up .

‌he was at his best behaviour when she's around, forgetting about the tantrums and wailing matches he had with his traumatized babysitter who quit the moment their father came back home .

‌her childhood wasn't the most ideal but she got her family with her and that was more than enough for her.

‌her dad was more than relieved when she finally had interest in something other than studying or taking care of them .

‌he watched as her love for racing grow untill he offered to take her to her first grand Prix.

‌she didn't sleep for days after .

‌daniel was her first friend in the sport .

‌they met through one of her uncles friends back in Australia , both didn't like eachother at all .

she was the quiet observing kid and he was the bouncing ball of energy , but they bonded through their love for racing .

‌she moved to Europe (between UK and France) with her dad where she found more suitable competitions to partake in, but she tried to keep in touch with him through the years , but they both got busy and lost connection.

‌she kept to herself and worked hard to build her skills.

Maintaining a healthy balance between her studies and racing .

‌untill she met some of the kids older/close to her age , most didn't take her seriously and even encouraged her to drop racing . But she also met little max .

Both acknowledged the other but kept their distance on the beginning.

‌the boy was blunt and she was unfazed.

‌they respected the other hard work and we're motivated to beat eachother at every race.

‌they surprisingly became best friends with time .

‌both acting too mature for their own good but unknowingly, they both got eachother to act their age as they grew closer .

‌they gave eachother tips and pointers as they sat away from the others before every race they were in together .

‌he'd talk her ears off after every race explaining every detail and every corner and she'd patiently listen to him , adding her own opinion here and there .

‌they were at eachother neck every race, but their friendship was as strong as it could be.

‌they celebrated the winner and encouraged the loser , both hated to lose , but they raced fairly.

‌she got discovered by Christian , and found her way to red bull academy program, Max a year after her .

‌and guess who's there ? Daniel Joseph Ricciardo.

‌they reunited after years , both inseparable even more when she got a seat at Toro rosso .

‌the team was on the brink of a collective breakdown, they already had Seb to worry about , now add those two with Max?

‌cue chaos and mischief , sirens going off with Seb laughing and Christian screaming in the background.

‌fernando saw her and declared war upon whoever dares to hurt this small bean .

Forming a small protection squad (more like him forcing Seb Kimi and Jenson to participate)

Kimi got robbed into it , he didn't even know until he found himself along with the others planning to slash a reporter tires for calling her slow and ignorant .

He thought they were getting coffee !?!! .

‌she was supposed to move to red bull in 2016 but Marko opposed, max was promoted instead, and she left to Renault the following season.

‌in 2018 she moved to alpha Romeo (saubar) alongside Charles leclerc .

Rookie Charles was low-key scared of her , he knew her from their carting days but still felt uneasy with her quiet personality and focused mentality.

The first time they met was a disaster at it's finest.

But she knew how tense and overwhelmed rookies could be in their first season so she tried her best to help him through it .

‌it was an exhausting season but they both survived .

Charles moved to Ferrari and her to Mercedes.

‌Toto offered her a Merc seat for 2019 .

‌lewis had his share of teammates and it didn't end well to say the least with his former friend/teammate (RIP brocedes) or valtteri after .

‌so when she first came in it didn't go well for her .

‌both her and Lewis are hardheaded and closed off, refusing to acknowledge the other Or give in to know eachother.

‌they stayed professional and moved out of the other's way, untill she came around, finding him in the back of his driver's room, sitting on the floor , his head on his hands after a shitty with a dnf .

‌she kept quiet and sat down with him letting him have his moment of silence but assuring he don't have to be alone .

‌after an hour or so, she took out her phone , showing him her family dog pics and videos , getting him to crack a smile and even few laughs before she let him talk about his own Roscoe, promising to let her meet him when they go to Silverstone.

‌the roles reversed when he found her in an empty office at the back of the garage , she got an earful from Toto and couldn't get a word in , her notes are always dismissed and her engineer wasted time until it's too late to listen.

‌he sat beside her, letting her lean on his shoulder in a way of comfort , letting her play with his rings to calm down.

‌they built a support system . and it resulted in building a solid foundation for a dynamic team.

But that won't mean she'll let her work go to waste because of the team's orders.

... : Y/N.

Y/N : yes?

James : Y/N, This is James, listen.....

Y/N : no James! You listen! Just because..........

Her radio messages never disappoint.

Yeah they give her a hard time , but they didn't know what was waiting for them .

She adapted quickly to the new team and their methods of work , it went as well as it could be up to 2021 .

Shit hit the fan and she almost die/quit .

But she stayed put , ending the season in 3d 🥉.

2022 things moved up a little, with her chances of getting the championship almost equalling Max's, him being ahead with only 24 point .

But Mercedes had their own plans.

Mid-season change in plans Leading to her leaving/getting replaced with George Russell , concluding her journey with Mercedes AMG team.

*Let me know if I missed something ✨

[vodika-vibes]

Hello lovely! Could I please request Ruby for Dogma x female reader where they both have huge crushes on each other, but are too shy to say anything; one day after Dogma comes back from a long tour and she just decides to go for it and she glomps him, kissing him on the lips over and over again while his brother's are just standing there, jealously gawking lol. I hope this inspires you and I hope that what you're coming down with doesn't last long!🌼

Take A Chance

Summary: You’ve been crushing on Dogma for, what feels like, years. But you’ve always been too nervous to actually put your feelings into words. But, after your closest friend tells you that she’s going to invite Dogma into her bed when he returns from his deployment, you decide to take a chance.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x Reader

Word Count: 852

Warnings: Some angst at the beginning, but there's a happy ending. Also, reader has a toxic friend

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, I didn't follow your prompt to the letter, but I think I'm happy with this, so I hope you are too!

Anxiety twists your stomach as you lean against the flowering tree on the base that the 501st call home when they’re not deployed. 

The Resolute docked about an hour ago. It’s only a matter of time before they actually come back to the base, and that’s the thing that is making you so anxious.

Not that they’re coming back, no. 

But the fact that you’re going to see Dogma.

Kind Dogma. Handsome Dogma.

Dogma, who you’ve been crushing on for months. Who you’ve been too shy to confess to, because he might not feel the same.

Dogma, who your best friend decided that she was going to try and bed, even though she knows about your crush on him. Her argument was that since you haven’t said anything yet, then he’s free game.

You warned her that if she did this, she would lose your friendship forever. And she just didn’t care.

So that definitely isn’t helping your anxiety. It’s not like you have so many friends that you can afford to lose any of them…even bad friends are better than no friends, right?

You lift your head when you hear the familiar sound of heavy boots on the paved road, and a small smile crosses your lips when you see the 501st trekking back to their barracks.

Knowing them, most of them are going to change and hit up the bars or go and find their partners.

They deserve it.

And then there’s Dogma, talking to Tup, joking about something based on the wry grin on Tup’s face, and your heart lurches. You love him. You want to be his and him to be yours and…

And…

And you can’t do it.

Your hands curl into fists and you drop your gaze away from the man that you love so much.

He deserves…more. So much more.

You jump when a pair of boots stop in front of you, “Credit for your thoughts?”

“They’re hardly worth that much.” You reply automatically, before you lift your gaze. Dogma is standing in front of you, concern written clearly on his face, “Ah…welcome back, Dogma.”

“Thanks.” His dark eyes scan your face, “What’s wrong, you look upset.” His brow furrowed, “Did someone threaten you?”

“No. Nothing like that. Just…coming to a realization about myself, is all.”

“Wanna share?”

“It’s not important.”

“It’s important enough that it upset you.”

You hesitate, “Well…” You fold your arms, “There’s a guy-” Dogma’s expression twitches slightly, but he just motions for you to continue, “And I just realized that I’m never going to be good enough for him.”

“If he thinks that then he’s a karking idiot.” Dogma replies, “You’re amazing.”

“No, he didn’t…” You hesitate, “That was me coming to that realization, not…” You sigh, “Like I said, not important.”

Dogma is quiet for a moment, “Well,” He finally says, “Since you have this…guy,” His tone is odd, but he continues before you can question it, “I guess you’re not interested in getting a drink or something with me?”

“...what?”

“Like, caf. Or maybe something else, since you don’t drink caf.” Dogma adds, and then he flashes a wry smile, “Sorry, I had a plan, but now that I’m standing here, I can’t quite remember it.”

“A plan?”

“For asking you out. On a date.” He rubs the back of his neck, “But, you just said there’s a guy, so I guess you’re not interested-”

You stare at him, blankly for a moment. And then you step into his space and press your lips against his in an awkward kiss. You pull away quickly, and Dogma stares at you, as though his brain needs a moment to reboot.

He stares at you for long enough that you shift nervously, and avert your gaze, “U-um…I shouldn’t have-”

You’re not able to finish your sentence before Dogma’s lips are hot against yours, and he has you pressed against the tree behind you. Unlike your kiss, which was hesitant and very chaste, his kiss is sure and quickly becomes passionate.

And you’re helpless but to match his intensity, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and he pins you against the tree.

There’s a loud whistle and a shout of, “Get it, Dogma!” Which causes him to break the kiss, but he doesn’t pull away, instead he presses his forehead against yours, and he raises his hand to flip off whichever brother that was.

There’s the sound of laughter, and then the audience disperses, not that you notice that, as your focus is locked on Dogma, who has all of his attention focused on you.

“So,” Dogma says as he leans in slightly, his lips hovering just over yours, “I’m the guy?”

“You’re the guy.” You agree.

Dogma exhales slowly, his breath fanning across your face, “Good.” He breathes out.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His gaze drops to your lips, “So…that date?”

“I’d like to go get some caf with you, Dogma.”

“Then I’ll go change and we can do that.” He murmurs, “But…first…” He trails off as his lips catch yours one more time. 

And, eagerly, you kiss him back.

[masterjedilenawrites]

hello there. could i request the bois and tbb for their reaction that they would have when they see their s/o wearing a dress, as their s/o normally wears pants and shirts.

Fox, Fives, and Tup eat it up. They start with an endless string of Wow-s, then they'll remember other words exist and insist their S/O spin around or pose for them so they can admire all the angles. They may even insist on some photos, or maybe grab whoever's around so they can show off their partner's look. Otherwise it's praises galore. Regardless how comfortable or not their S/O initially feels in the dress, they're definitely getting a confidence boost.

Jesse, Kix, and Wrecker instantly turn mischevious. They're whistling, they're teasing, they're even getting handsy. It's just too big of a change to pass up an opportunity to have some fun with it. If their S/O's not fully comfortable in the get-up, they'll help make them laugh and loosen up a little. It's just clothes, and at the end of the day they're still the beautiful person they fell for no matter what they wear. But this outfit sure is fun.

Hardcase, Dogma, and Tech honestly won't notice. To say they're oblivious to things like fashion is an understatement. Their S/O will try to casually draw their attention toward it, swaying around or saying things like If only I had pockets to put this thing in... Still nothing. They'll have to stand right in their line of sight and specifically say Hey look! I'm wearing a dress! Then these guys will have a little moment of dazed blinking before giving a shy smile and a nice compliment.

Rex, Hunter, and Crosshair will stop dead in their tracks, mouth agape, speechless at the sight before them. Bonus points if their S/O is really feeling themselves, rather than being awkward or embarrassed. The confidence they exude is more mesmerizing than the dress itself. They never really snap out of it either. They may put on a face, act cool and collected, but inside they're still freaking out. They simply cannot look away. And when the dress comes off and it's back to pants, they'll low-key pout about it.

Cody, Wolffe, and Echo have a less obvious, but no less appreciative reaction. Their face will light up with a smile, their eyes will grow soft as they take them in. If their S/O is walking awkwardly they'll rush up to offer their arm and help put them at ease. Or if their S/O is really enjoying the change of attire, they'll help them find ways to wear dresses more often. They will always be supportive - and enamored - of their S/O's choices in appearance.

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831

Clone Bois & Bad Batch Tag: @kaijusplotch, @rebel-finn, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @nekotaetae, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @nahoney22

✨Join A Tag List Here!✨

☕️ Clone Comfort Hour | 🌙 Master List of Master Lists

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

frostycatblr-fandom-files The Clone Wars Masterlist

Fic tag(s): #frostfics | [REQ] denotes requested works | [M] denotes work is Mature; not suitable for minors | [WIP] Work In Progress; ⭐ indicate priority

[REQs] Captain Rex with shy love interest + shy partner

[REQ] Movie Night! [501st x GN!Reader]

[REQ] The Long Way Home [Fives x GN!Reader]

[REQ] Holidays in Hyperspace [Tup x Fem!Reader]

[REQ] Untitled [Rex x Fem!Reader] ⭐⭐

[M] Poets and Painters Masterlist [Wolffe x GN!Reader]

[REQ] The Tragedy of Level 1325

[REQ] Untitled [Wolffe x Fem!Reader] ⭐⭐

No Foxes In This Hole Masterlist [Fox x Fem!Reader] [WIP] ⭐

[REQ] Wrapped in Red [Fox x Fem!Reader] [WIP] ⭐⭐

Under Bursting Skies [GN!Reader]

[M] Creative Miniseries [501st] [TBB + Wolfpack] [212th]

Like Family [Feral x Fem!Reader] [Please stay tuned!]

Untitled [Savage Opress x Fem!Reader] [Please stay tuned!]

Updated: 10/10/24

[seriowan]

um, is there a dad!rex request in? because imagining that man as a loving father is something hot as fuuuu. I bet he hangs up all of the kids drawings on the fridge, indulges in their tea parties and plays dress up with them. he would just love so so much to see his own children grow up and never want to miss a single moment of their smiles.

FINALLY A DAD!REX REQUEST! I've been itching to write one for him since talking about dad!rex with @rexxdjarin and now that the opportunity is here i am SO EXCITED!!

more dad!clone fluff below the cut!

"-and then i kicked the ball really hard, daddy! i kicked it so hard and it got in the goal and my teacher was so excited!"

rex smiled as he listened to his adi'ka ramble, cheek in his palm with eyes full of adoration. his little one had just returned from school, full of stories and recollections of the day. he was caught in their adorable snare the moment they sat down at the dinner table together.

"uh-huh," he smiled, eyes crinkling with love. "and did your team win?"

they shrugged. "no, but that's okay because the game was fun! oh and look, i had arts and crafts today and i made this for you!"

they threw their tiny blue backpack atop the kitchen table and zipped it open in a rush, rummaging through the mess of papers and crayons before pulling out a little drawing covered in glue and sparkles. they ran up to rex's side as he turned, offering his knee for them to climb up into his lap.

hovering over his little adi'ka, rex couldn't help but laugh rich and deeply when he saw a crayon portrayal of him and his brothers.

fives had his typical tattoo but the '5' covered his entire forehead and there were stickers stuck everywhere along his armor. echo had not one, but two hands painted on his chest, covering his chest plate like a seashell bra. half of jesse's head was covered in grey - he guessed it was the republic cog but it looked more like a little smudge. dogma, hardcase, kix, and tup were there too, each of them sporting odd but close portrayals of their haircuts and tattoos. while he found it shocking that his little adi'ka could remember such details, he couldn't help but love their interpretation a little more.

"this is amazing, adi'ka," he praised, causing his little one to grin as hard as they could. "can i take a picture and send it to your uncles?"

they flushed, biting their lip in uncertainty. "uh, it's not very good, daddy."

rex gasped, splaying his hand across his chest as if utterly shocked. "are you kidding? this is the best thing i've ever gotten from you so far! you sure you don't want me to show your uncles?"

after a moment of contemplation, little adi'ka finally nodded with shy red cheeks. "okay. you can show them."

rex grinned. "good, 'cause i was going to anyway."

"daddy!"

he laughed, setting his adi'ka up on the edge of the table. he handed them the picture and said, "hold it up and smile, adi'ka."

they giddily obliged, cheesing as hard as they could while holding up their little artwork. rex snapped a picture, biting his lip to contain his cheeky grin while he sent it to the 501st group chat.

"nice job, bubs," he smirked, holding his hand out for his adi'ka to place the picture in his palm. with a turn, he faced the fridge and clipped it up with blue magnets, taking a step back to admire the collection of drawings and pictures that coated the fridge's entire surface. "i'm really liking this whole blue theme you have going on."

"duh, daddy. it's my favorite color."

rex hummed, smirking. "right, right." after an extended moment of appreciating his little one's artwork, rex turned with his hands on his hips, nudging his head towards the couch. "nap time? or tea time."

his little one gasped out, clapping their hands in excitement. "tea time first, nap time later!"

rex nodded, holding his hands out. his little one grasped them both, jumping down from the table with a happy cheer. they didn't let go of his fingers as they led him out of the kitchen and down the hall, guiding them toward their bedroom.

"can i wear the blue tutu today?" they asked with big eyes. "and you wear the pink one?"

rex didn't have a single bone in his body that could deny such a request, so he nodded. "sure, bubs."

as he settled down at his adi'ka's little tea table, watching them bring out the assortment of cups and plates, the comm in his pocket began to vibrate over and over and over again, humming and droning with replies from his brothers.

jesse: i want a framed copy to hang in my bunk. immediately.

echo: can i add the second handprint to my armor? i like adi'ka's version better.

fives: if anyone hears crying in the barracks, it's definitely not me.

-

ALSKJHFLSKJAHF my favorite one so far i love this prompt so much!!

inbox is open for more dad!clone requests and headcanons!

[lonewolflupe]

trick-or-treat

(fyi I feel obligated to tell you that the domino twins would say trick and treat because they would prank you but the treat is their glorious presence and hugs afterwards)

The door opens with such violent force, you're surprised it isn't blown from its hinges. With eyes wide open, you witness how two unhinged (it was them, not the door) men step forward, one (with the goatee obviously) even more dramatic than the other. "Trick OR treat?!?" he cries out, as if you just insulted his entire being, one hand on his chest, the other waving theatrically in the air. "Trick..," the other sighs, as this clearly isn't the first time they perform this act that night. They continue simultaneously, in such beautiful harmony that it brings tears to your eyes: "AAAAAND,", before the goatee-one sings with an opera-worthy voice: "Trrrrreaaaaaat!". You're completely in awe when you get showered by candy, and by the time you look up again, the door slams shut with the same violence used to open it. What a night.

Find your (trick and) treat all over the place below the cut:

Trick Or Threat (One-Shot)

For @aknightreaderr

Alright so this was my first attempt at crack OUTSIDE my contributions to @aknightreaderr's Fives State of Mind; I am a tad nervous about it, but I hope you'll enjoy it! Happy Halloween! <3

Summary: The Torrent boys go trick-or-treating, but when a certain ARC trooper joins them, it turns into toil-and-troubling OR How Dogma’s aversion to Fives keeps growing OR How Halloween almost exposed the Dark Lord of the Sith OR How Fives walked in on a secret get-together OR Just read the thing before I spoil the whole plot Rating: Teen and up Tags: crack, vode bonding, trick-or-treating, indirect mention of Anidala, less-discreet Foxiyo Words: 2.173 Characters: Fives, Jesse, Kix, Hardcase, Dogma, Tup, several guest appearances Read this one-shot here on AO3

“Trick-or-treating in this district sucks,” Hardcase proclaimed, not shying away from showing his disappointment, as he kicked some trash in front of him. “Yeah, who came up with this place anyway?” Jesse shot out teasingly, just to pour oil on the fire, as everyone was well aware who was to blame.

Dogma responded to Jesse’s question by shooting him an irritated look, his brows wrinkled in an unamused frown to show his aversion. “Excuse me, but strategically speaking, this place seemed most reliable. Besides, no one else came with a better plan.”

“So far I've collected three corn-clusters, five rotation bars, one gnawed nuna leg, various empty candy wrappers, and some funny looking pills - look, this one has a tooka on it!” Hardcase shared his findings, as he rummaged through his bucket. “Please let me check those pills before you decide to take any,” Kix quickly interrupted, grabbing Hardcase's hand before he could continue his search for something candy-worthy.

Tup mooched behind the group, moping about their unsuccessful candy hunt. “Maybe we should just get back to the barracks and watch a holovid instead,” he sighed, letting his head hang in defeat. Jesse put a comforting hand on his shoulder, just when their attention was being drawn.

“And miss out on all the good stuff?” came a voice from the nearest backstreet. The group halted, staring into the dimly lit alley until a figure appeared from the looming shadows. The boys held their breaths until the figure took the shape of a clone trooper; an ARC trooper, to be more precise.

“Fives?” Jesse shot in surprise, raising a brow at the sight of their brother. With a smug look on his face, Fives walked towards him, and put two fingers on Jesse's chin to shut his jaw. “Close your mouth vod, or folks might confuse it for your candy bucket,” he grinned, before turning towards the group.

Hardcase and Tup did not hold back on showing their excitement when Fives joined them, watching him with wide eyes and gaping mouths. “Fives! Fives! Fives!” Hardcase started chanting cheerfully, moments away from jumping up and down, not long before Tup joined him enthusiastically; it seemed their night of trick-or-treating was saved after all.

Dogma on the other hand was less amused; he rolled his eyes and scoffed unapologetically loud. “Great, just when I thought this night couldn't get any worse..,” he griped whilst crossing his arms and turning away from the group’s newest arrival.

Kix couldn't help but laugh at Dogma’s behaviour. “Dogma, it's just some innocent trick-or-treating, not toil-and-troubling,” he smiled at his brother, taking a brief private moment with him. “Could as well be, with him,” Dogma grumbled under his breath, resulting in more laughter from Kix. He patted Dogma on the back before turning towards the merry group behind them.

But Fives got note of Dogma's attitude, and in an attempt to persuade him to join the fun, he swung his arm around Dogma's shoulder. “You know what? You, my dearest Dogma, will love the place we're gonna visit,” Fives grinned at his sceptical brother, not helping in making him any less suspicious about the continuation of their evening.

“Fives, where are we going?” Hardcase asked curiously, anticipation radiating from his face. Still dangling from Dogma's shoulder, Fives swung around to face Hardcase, grinning from ear to ear before announcing their destination: “The Senate Building.”

---

After chaos had erupted and the mixed feelings about their next stop had settled down, the group had made its way towards the location and now stood in front of the imposing building, as it stood towering high above them.

“It's bigger than I had imagined,” Jesse gasped at the dome-shaped Rotunda, letting his eyes wander the colossal structure. “So they say,” Fives grinned at him, a newly acquired lollipop dancing in the corner of his mouth. Kix halted at his side, a somewhat troubled look on his face as he addressed Fives. “How do you suppose we get inside without raising any alarms?”

But as could be expected, Fives had everything planned out already. “Relax, vod. I have brothers in every corner of the galaxy,” he winked at Kix, resulting in an amused head shake from the medic. Still not on the same wavelength as the rest of the group, Dogma barged forward to join the conversation. “Don't you mean: we have brothers everywhere?” he shot at Fives, almost accusing him of behaving like he was some favoured brother.

But Fives only took Dogma’s words as an opportunity to joke with him. “Literally speaking, yes, but not all of them will open doors for you, with that attitude,” he responded, swinging his lollipop towards Dogma, almost hitting him in the face with it. Dogma tried slamming it from Fives’ hand, but the ARC was quick enough to put it back into his mouth. “Wait here,” he said mischievously, before walking towards the building and disappearing through an inconspicuous entrance.

“This is promising,” Jesse grinned, bumping his elbow into Kix, as they stood patiently waiting for Fives to return. Inaudible to them, Dogma was continuing his complaining as Hardcase and Tup danced around him, whilst chanting their trick-or-treat-rhyme: “Trick or Treat! We’re droids of meat! Give me something good to eat! If you don’t, you’re a brute. I’ll pull down my undersuit!”

Fortunately for Dogma (or not), it didn't take long before Fives reappeared, hurriedly gesturing to them to come over. When they joined him, Fives guided them inside through the discreetly hidden side entrance. “We’re good to go,” he whispered, telling them to move quickly. They noticed one of the Coruscant Guard commanders, wings adorning his red-and-white helmet. They all shared quick nods in greeting and gratitude as they passed him, Fives waiting to be last in line.

“Thorn, vod; Fox wouldn't be as prickly without you. You keep him sharp and stingy,” he bestowed upon the Commander, granting him the widest grin he could muster. “Not sure if that's really a compliment, but you're welcome anyway,” the Commander replied with a sigh, before gesturing to him to keep moving. As Fives rushed behind the others to catch up, he glanced back over his shoulder. “If we get caught, I'll say it was Thire!” he shot back at Thorn, before he and the others disappeared around a corner.

“Please, don’t get caught..,” Thorn whispered, before he reluctantly continued his duties.

---

The Senate Building’s corridors were more colourful than the ones they were used to back at the barracks, and in awe, the boys didn’t know where to look as they took in these new surroundings. Fives was looking at his brothers with a content smirk on his face when Kix caught up with him. “You, er- have been here before?” he asked curiously yet cautiously, not wanting for Fives to accidentally blurt out secrets he wasn’t supposed to share.

But Fives was smart enough to keep his reply subtle. “Officially? No,” he replied, before putting a hand to his mouth and whispering, only for Kix to hear: “Let's keep it that way.” He abruptly turned around to the group to address them, quickly changing the subject. “Please follow me, I know exactly which Senators to visit - and which ones to avoid at any cost.”

“Which category covers the Supreme Chancellor?” Dogma shot out loud in annoyance, granting him a threatening look from Fives. He landed a heavy hand on top of Dogma’s chest plate to make him halt, before pointing an accusing finger in his face. “We do not mention him here. Or anywhere. Ever,” was Fives’ most comprehensive response. Dogma swallowed at Fives’ sudden serious demeanour, whereas the others continued the subject in ignorance.

“I bet if we dressed the Chancellor in dark robes, he’d make for a great trick-or-treater,” Jesse shared his thoughts, snickering when he pictured the amount of candy they would gain. “He’d be surprisingly scary,” Hardcase added to the image, whilst Tup swallowed uncomfortably: “He already scares the kark out of me.”

“Sileeeence!”

Astounded, the boys turned their silent attention back towards Fives. “We have arrived,” he proclaimed theatrically, before waving to the nearest door. “This is a lady friend of the General, but please don’t mention him, or you’ll make her blush. Please believe me, I’ve been there,” Fives explained, the last part through clenched teeth before he turned himself towards the door. He allowed Hardcase to knock, as he was almost jumping out of his blacks from excitement.

The door whooshed open smoothly..

“Trick or Treat!”

The lively young Senator of Naboo, wearing a dashing outfit as always, regained herself quickly from her initial surprise. “Oh my, what are you doing here, boys?” she chuckled as she laid eyes on the clone troopers. She reached for a bowl of candy, and handed them out generously. “Ma’am, you are the treat tonight,” Fives flattered her whilst making a small bow, resulting in some chuffs and giggling from the boys, before they quickly said their thanks and continued their mission.

“Alright, next?” Fives asked smugly as he watched Hardcase and Tup bounce from excitement. This sure had been their best trick-or-treating ever, and they had only visited one door since they entered the Senate Building. This could only get better. “Next!” they cried in unison, before Fives guided them to the next door. This time, he granted Tup the pleasure of knocking.

The door whooshed open with a hitch..

“Trick or Treat!”

Dressed in fancy robes, made from expensive fabrics, the Senator of Alderaan stared back at them. “Troopers! What is- Wait, aren’t you a little old for trick-or-treating?” he asked in confusion, but there was a tone of amusement present in his voice. “Aren’t you a little rebellious for a senator?” Fives uttered under his breath, before clearing his throat and standing at attention to properly address the Senator. “Sir, we are aged between 11 and 13 respectively.” There was a moment of silence before the Senator erupted in a roaring laughter, wiping tears from his eyes whilst handing them a charitable amount of candy.

They continued their route merrily, excitedly inspecting their sweet treasure as they made their way to their next conquest. When they finally neared another door, Fives came to a stop hesitantly. Obviously, he didn’t want to alert the boys, but he wasn’t too confident about the next room’s occupant. A rainy haze clouded his memory, and just to be sure, he pushed Dogma forward to do the knocking.

The door whooshed open with a shrill sound..

“Trick or Treat!”

The boys looked in utter and complete horror when a Kaminoan appeared in front of them. She slightly arched her long neck to look down on them, her eyelids blinking slowly and her face emotionless. “I should get you reconditioned for this intrusion,” she slowly said at last, and none of the clones was going to question her intention. “Kark, wrong door, sorry boys,” Fives muttered embarrassed, before they scooted off into the hallway.

When they were out of sight, they slowed down their pace to catch their breaths. Fives quickly looked around, until he noticed the right door - he was absolutely sure this time. There was nothing to fear behind this door. “Should have been this one,” he laughed nervously, as he took the lead. “This is the blue senator from Pantora; she's pretty cool. Let's see what treat's waiting for us,” he said confidently, a smirk sliding on his face as he stepped forward, knocking the door himself this time.

The door whooshed open with a thud..

“Trick or-”

None of them dared finishing the sentence when the opening door revealed none other than Marshal Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. Even with his helmet on, he looked tired, unamused, menacing, and ready to commit a murder - or several. Fives, standing closest to him, swallowed audibly before starting to back off slowly. “Threat,” he finished their supposedly innocent sentence under his breath, before he turned around to face the boys. “Run,” he hooted, before all of them fled anxiously, scattering off into different directions.

---

“Who was it, love?” Riyo asked absently when Fox returned, from where she sat behind her desk, bent over several datapads. Fox took his helmet off and put it on a side table, making sure it didn’t bother her late-night senatorial obligations. “Just some vermin, nothing for you to worry about,” he said gruffly, but his mood lightened instantly when she looked up at him with her big, golden eyes. “Vermin? I didn’t know there was an infestation in the Rotunda,” she remarked, hurriedly reaching for one of her datapads to send in an official report.

Fox was quick enough to catch her hand before she could grab one, guiding it towards his lips and placing a slow, soft kiss on it to ease her troubled mind. “Don’t worry, I took care of it. They won’t show their faces here again.” Her features softened instantly, her lips sliding into an affectionate smile. “Oh Fox, what would I do without you?”

Bonus sketch (because I was initially going to treat you with a drawing):

[professional-yearner]

Yandere Tup x reader headcannons

TW for: yandere, threat of unconsensual acts of affection, illusions to Stockholm syndrome, two faced behavior, isolation

Tup! A surprisingly terrifying admirer!

Truly fitting of the sweet and quiet younger brother (at least outwardly), he's really found a way into your heart.

He can't get enough of you. So kind, so sweet and soft. 

You truly care about him in a way he's never experienced before. And he cares for you.

Oh, does he care for you.

Tup loves holding your hand, whether you like it or not, but luckily you've always reciprocated.

Though, it is startling when he'll come out of seemingly nowhere, larger hand closing around yours and him beaming down at you.

It drives him near mad how badly he wants to kiss you.

You're just so shy, he doesn't want to scare you off, even though he's sure you feel the same.

Even if you don't, he won't pay that much mind.

He wonders what it will feel like when it finally happens. He'd like to think of himself as a gentleman, but he's not sure how much he'll be able to hold back once he gets a taste.

He's sure you won't mind.

He follows you around any and everywhere he can.

Whether it's your station, the mess, your quarters, anywhere is fair game as long as he's done his duties for the day!

It's eerie how he just happens to know where you are all the time…

The affectionate curiosity about who your friends were has become a sickly sweet kind of interrogation, him visibly getting more irate the moment you admit to spending time with anyone other than him.

He doesn’t yell, no, never at you, dearheart <3

He doesn't need to anyway, the look he has when you give an answer he doesn't want is enough to make you hesitant to repeat the mistake of keeping the company of others besides him and his siblings. 

So soft-spoken and kind (outwardly), nobody would believe you even if you were to tell them about his worrying behavior.

“Tup? Are you sure it was him? He just helped me grab the documents I needed from the archives! You don’t think maybe you're blowing whatever he did out of proportion?”

His brothers are worse, though. 

Even sharing a knowing smile, they would only chuckle, “Tup? Scary? Oh, honey, don't let your imagination run away with you, now.”

You've idly thought of transferring out of the 501st, but… you don't hate Tup's affection as much as you probably should.

Sure, you were a bit freaked out at first, but he is so genuine and kind- at least to you. When it comes to others, you've noticed how… hollow his generosity seems to be. 

But, you choose to ignore it.

His presence in your life is so soothing, soft and warm in an almost crushingly loving sort of way. 

You love his family also, you've never had a group of people care for you so genuinely. 

Like them to you, you don't think you can let them go now.

But you shouldn't worry, Tup is here, and he'd never let you go uncared for again.

Even if you begged and screamed for it.

[literallyjustanerd]

Good Boy (Tup X F!Reader smut)

One of my New Year's resolutions is to be more shameless. So enjoy some utter filth, courtesy of someone who thinks there can always be more dominant-reader smut out there.

Description: You're unwinding at 79s after a long week, when you spot a certain clone watching you from across the floor. One who gives you other ideas about how to destress. Words: 3.3k Content: Praise kink, hair pulling, dom reader, oral sex, bathroom sex, minor 501st shenanigans Rating: 18+ (minors fuck off. please.)

Taglist: @freesia-writes @wolffegirlsunite @clonethirstingisreal @trixie2023

You’re four drinks in, and you’re starting to feel it. A pleasant little buzz tickles the back of your brain, just enough to shake off the last of the week’s tension. Propping one elbow back against the bar, you survey the dancefloor of 79s from over the rim of your spotchka soda. Before you is a rolling sea of bodies, pushed and pulled by the thundering bass like a relentless tide. You’re drawn in by the undertow, a hypnotic beat swaying your hips as you join the crowd and quickly find yourself lost in the rhythm. Taken far from the stress of a long, long work week. Stars, you’d needed this.

You come back to yourself after who-knows-how-long to the nagging feeling that someone’s eyes are on you. A quick scan of the crowd finds no obvious onlookers. Not that you’d be opposed to that: there’s a reason you pay the extra cab fare to the clone-dominated bar on the surface instead of settling for the cheap lower-level clubs. But just when you’re about to push the feeling aside, you spot him. Big, brown eyes, tucked into the corner of the room, trying hard to look like he’s not watching.

He’s in a private booth toward the back of the bar: the 501st’s usual post. Maybe you should feel a little sheepish about being at 79s enough to know that. But locking eyes with the trooper across the room, you can’t feel anything but intrigue. Only a split second passes before he looks away, skittish and, you could swear, shy. Nothing like the other clones you’d encountered here, all show and bravado: the other 501st members being among the biggest offenders. But this one? He has the same (handsome, rugged, chiselled) face as the other clones. But something about him feels different. Softer, gentler. He laughs at something one of his brothers says, and the way his smile creases those tooka eyes has your gut clenching. And that top knot? …Well. Maybe you needed to blow off some more steam than you’d realised. He’s making an effort to keep his attention away from you, but after a few long moments, his eyes betray him, and he meets your gaze once more. Here we go. You raise your glass in his direction, adding a wink for good measure. His eyes widen, and he nearly chokes on the drink he’s tipped up. You’re grinning, you realise, as you let yourself fade into the music again, working your hips a little more deliberately as you weave through the crowd to the back corner.

You don’t rush. It’s half the fun, playing the game, drawing it out, drinking in the anticipation. He’s trying, poor thing, to keep his cool, but by the time you reach the edge of the crowd and approach the booth, he’s visibly flustered. You’re close enough now to see the teardrop tattoo adorning his cheek. Is it an attempt to seem as tough as the other clones? Or an embracing of his more sensitive nature? You’re hoping, if you play your cards right, that you might just find out.

The other 501st troopers leave you no room to speak when they notice you, falling over each other to offer you a drink and a seat. You pay them no mind, taking a step toward the middle of the booth. “Hey. What’s your name?” Silence. The other clones watch, shocked and grinning. One of them, a Republic cog tattoo across his face, elbows his brother in the side to jog him into speaking. “Tup,” he says, and asks you your name in return. You smile as you tell him. “I haven’t seen you here before.” Another clone, goateed, speaks up, topping Tup’s glass up from a large bottle. “He’s fresh off Kamino. First time out,” he smirks. “We wanted to show him a good time. Maybe you wanna help?” You can’t help but find it cute how instantly his brothers become willing wingmen. And how bashful Tup looks when it's mentioned that it's his first time. The two either side of him barely contain their excitement when you extend your hand. “Maybe I do. Can I buy you a drink, Tup?”

His mouth opens, though it takes a long moment before he can summon the words. In the end, the “yes, please,” he stammers is drowned out by the cheers and taunts of his brothers. They all but shove him out of his seat and toward you, whooping and making crass jokes that turn poor Tup’s cheeks several shades darker. Lacing your fingers with his, you pull him in close and lead both of you back to the bar.

As timid as he seems, he’s just as eager, and twice as polite.. While you wait for the bartender to pour your drinks, he’s already asking you about yourself, where you’re from, how often you’re here, what you do for work. By the time you take your glasses and find a corner of the bar to stand at, you’re surprisingly invested in the conversation. He’s a natural gentleman, and a much better listener than most people you’ve picked up in bars before. When there's a moment's pause in the conversation, he tightens his grip on his drink and takes a slow breath.  “You… You look beautiful tonight,” he says, so earnestly that you almost melt. It makes you all the more determined to show him a good time, especially when you see how pleased he looks as you thank him for the compliment, how happy he seems with himself for managing to say it at all.

You turn the talk to him when you can find a gap in his thoughtful questions, and try to return the favour. Tup gushes about the rest of the 501st at the slightest chance he gets. It’s clear he looks up to them: he talks about them like they’re his older brothers. The stories he shares have him more at ease, though he still looks like a tooka in headlights when you reach out and run your fingers over his neatly-tied hair. You're suddenly fighting the impulse to pull it free, to tangle it all up in your fingers and play with it. Later. “Haven’t seen many other clones with hair like this,” you say. “It's gorgeous.” Tup's mouth pulls into a wide, beaming smile, colour flooding his cheeks. He tries to bury his sheepishness behind his drink. Cute. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “The boys say it suits me. It's nice to have something different from them.” You almost kiss him right then and there. But you resist. There's still more to show him. “Do you want to dance?” you ask. He swallows hard, then nods, and lets you lead him to the dancefloor.

Even if you hadn’t been told that this was Tup’s first outing, it would still be as clear as the blinding neon lights around you. He’s painfully still, stiff and off-beat. Laying a hand on the pauldron at his shoulder, you lean in to speak into his ear. “It’s okay,” you say, as gently as you can over the thundering music. “Just relax. Follow my lead.” His hand twitches in yours when you guide it to the arch of your waist. You find yourself glad you’d picked the black dress tonight: it’s thin, with cut-outs and panels of mesh that let you feel his fingers on your skin. Starting slow, you coax Tup into a gentle twist to the beat. Before long, he’s easing into it. Following your lead, just as directed. It’s a kind of high, this feeling of confidence, of control. Of being trusted. Tup’s simple swaying grows to a roll of his hips, each one betraying more heavy intent. When he seems comfortable enough, you reach out one hand to his side, and pull him in close.  “Are you having fun?” you ask, your lips inches from the shell of his ear. “Do you want to keep going?” He gives a shallow nod, and forces a low, breathy, “Yes.”

Reassured and wanting more, you tighten your grip on his hip as you dance. The distance between you has closed, the two of you drawn in magnetically. You wish you could press fully against him, but the hard planes of his armour keep you from feeling him like you want to. It’s maddening, only adding to the growing heat under your skin. Roaming fingers find a gap above his cuisse, teasing where his skin is covered only by a thin body sock. At the same time, Tup's hands on your waist creep lower. When you give the flesh a squeeze, relishing the feel of firm muscle under your grip, you could swear you hear a whine escape Tup’s throat. He does the same, bunching the hem of your dress in his fingers, deliciously firm. “You’re good at this,” he mumbles. You run a hand over his arm, squeezing the flesh below his pauldron. “So are you.”

When you pull back to look at him, the smile that settles on his face is brighter, sharper. There’s a spark of mischief in his eye, one that you can’t help but find endearing despite the ache between your legs. It’s driving you to impatience, your mind clouding over with all the things you want to do with -and to- this gorgeous, gentle, genuine man. You’re not sure how much longer you can last out here. You’re closer again, each grind of his body now presses one thick thigh directly to your core. Your pulse quickens. The music throbs around you, filling your head and pounding in the hollow of your chest. The air turns electric. Your hands at his back. Your breath on his ear. Tup’s greedy, devious touch dipping low, then lower. Low enough to grip a handful of your ass and squeeze, tight, dragging your pussy against his thigh. You thrust against the plate of his armour, turning to press your lips to his neck.

“Good boy.” 

You hadn’t meant to let it out. It had floated into your mind on the haze of your pleasure and slipped from your mouth in a low purr, all before you could think to hold it back. But before you can worry you’ve taken it too far, Tup’s head falls forward against you. He groans, heavy and stuttering, burrowing into the warmth of your neck. His eyes shut tight. His breath thick, searing on your skin.

Oh.

When he comes back out of hyperspace, his eyes are blown wide. There’s something under his gaze, something feral. You clench around nothing, driven wild by one thought: you’re going to bring that something to the surface, to see what else is lurking down there, waiting to be drawn out. Movements sharpened by lust and high on power, you hook two fingers into Tup’s belt and pull him toward the edge of the crowd. “Come with me,” you say. It’s not a question. Tup looks up. As though entranced, his feet move. He lets you lead him down the dark corridor, stopping at one of the bathrooms. 

The music dulls when you shut the door and snap the lock, sealing out the rest of the bar and leaving the two of you alone. You hadn’t realised how heavy you were breathing, not until you hear it in your ears and feel the heaving of your chest. Crowded close to you in the small space, Tup is faring no better. His eyes are laser focused on you, heady, hazy, and searching. A bright flush paints his desire clear across his cheeks, his lips parted enticingly. Curling locks have broken loose from his neat top knot. The loose strands catch the meagre light in the bathroom, glowing gold in a crown over his head. You open your mouth to speak, to check one final time that Tup is comfortable, that this is what he wants. Your answer comes before you can utter a single word: Tup takes your opened lips as his opportunity, and his mouth crashes against yours, swallowing your words and smothering your pleasantly startled moan. 

He's not patient. Despite his earlier shyness, or perhaps because of it, his kiss is frenzied, desperate and hungry. There are hands at your waist, your neck, your hips, your back, unable to settle anywhere for long. Like he's afraid the moment will be cut short, like he won’t get the chance to do everything he wants to. Wanting to reassure him, you lift a hand to cup his jaw. Your thumb traces teasing little arcs, feather-soft, across his cheek. “You feel good. Doing so good,” you coax, words muffled against his mouth. A low, shuddering breath fans your lips, and his grip on your upper thigh turns vice-like. You're pushed back, caged against the wall, your leg hauled up to hook around Tup’s hip while he drives relentlessly forward in rolling thrusts, chasing his own pleasure, grinding against you. Each wave sends flames licking up your spine, the hard plastoid of his armour unforgiving. It's too much, and it's not enough. You swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, tasting spotchka and something sweet as his mouth opens wider to let you in. The hot, heavy slide of your tongues together goads Tup on. The hand that isn’t holding your thigh creeps up your waist to the curve of your breast, gripping just hard enough that the pleasure verges on pain. You moan into Tup’s mouth, and, shyness be damned, he grins.

Not to be outdone, you give in to the impulse you’ve been fighting all night, and reach up to pull his hair free from its knot. It cascades down to skim his shoulders, gently curling now that it’s not pulled tight. Sharp nails rasp across his scalp as you gather a handful, tangling it in your fingers. You pull back from his lips, leaving him chasing you for more until you move to mouth at his neck, nipping at his jaw and the soft skin below his ear. At the same time, you clench your fist, twisting and pulling his hair roughly. Tup’s knees almost buckle. A ragged, broken moan wracks his chest.

“Kriff, please.” The words are torn from his throat, voice fraying at the edges. You smile against his neck, tilting until your lips graze his ear as you reply. “Please what?” you tease, head spinning with your own power. “Use your words, pretty boy. What do you want?” Need and anticipation saturate the air as Tup struggles to catch his breath enough to speak. He mumbles something faint and slurred into your shoulder. Leaning back as much as you can while still shoved up against the wall, you use your grip on Tup’s hair, guiding him up to meet your gaze. “You can do better than that. Tell me what you want, Tup.” Whining like a puppy, Tup’s eyelids flutter. You feel him swallow, his throat dry. Still, he wills his clumsy lips around the words, glazed eyes heavy on yours. “Want to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

You hadn't realised until that exact moment how soaking wet he’s gotten you, how near your own limits you are. When you hear the desperation in his words, his eagerness to please, you have to take a moment yourself before you regain your composure.

“Good,” you breathe. “Now… on your knees.”

The hand in Tup’s hair tugs downward, and Tup follows instantly, greaves hitting the floor with a dull thud. You hadn't thought he could get any more gorgeous. But kneeling before you, his big, brown eyes haloed by dark curls, your breath is stolen by more than lust. With trembling fingers, he slides your dress up, cresting the swell of your hips. The cold air on your flushed skin sends you shuddering. Your eyes fall shut, a hum deep in your throat quickly growing to a growl when you feel him tug your underwear down. Every inch of exposed skin feels electric, buzzing, sizzling like a lit fuse. Tup’s eyes flit from your exposed cunt up to look at you, kiss-swollen lips hanging ajar. Keeping your gaze locked, he leans in, breathes deep, and opens his mouth around you.

What he lacks in experience, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm. You don’t hesitate to tell him what to do, giving orders he follows with a true soldier’s precision and rigour. Each pass of his tongue coils you a little tighter, tracing lines of pleasure from you until it sweeps low to dip into your entrance. The angle presses the strong curve of his nose against your clit, and suddenly his shoulders are the only thing keeping you off the floor. “Good– mmph, good boy,” you heave, breathing short and sharp against the relentless pleasure. “You feel so good, Tup, don’t stop.”

The moan that spills from his lips hits right at your core, sending your cunt clenching around his tongue. He’s strung out, verging on animal, devouring you like a starving man, your slick coating his nose and running down his chin. He reaches up to clutch at you, at your ass and the backs of your thighs. Even through his gloves, his nails dig into your skin, little pinpricks of pleasure-pain like bright, burning comets among a glittering starfield. “‘M close,” you tell him, grinding forward against his mouth. “That’s it, just a little more. Just need–” Too pleasure-drunk to form the words, you find your punishing grip on his hair again and pull, dragging his lips up to your clit and pressing him in hard. He obeys instantly, sealing his lips around the little bud and sucking. You throw your head back against the wall, your mouth gaping wide around a silent scream. It’s already too much. You fist both your hands in Tup’s hair and clench tight, fighting hard to control the peak, to ride the wave without losing yourself. But then, that clever tongue circles across the tip of your clit. Gently, brutally, just barely ghosting across the white-hot nerves. 

Your mind fails you. Static fills your vision. Your ears are stuffed full of cotton. The air in your lungs turns to wildfire. The world outside shatters into a million tiny shards, until all that remains is you and Tup’s devastating touch, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of you that he can get.

You can’t say how long you drift out in oblivion before your senses begin to return. When you think you can trust your legs to hold your weight, you release Tup. He sits back on his knees, struggling to catch his breath, and it occurs to you with some embarrassment that you might have held him to you a little too tightly. He’s still panting as you pull your underwear up and shimmy your dress back down. Still, it doesn’t seem to bother him. On the contrary, he looks wrecked. He’s smiling wide, dazed and giddy, hair mussed, lips and nose glistening with evidence of his good work. You reach down to caress his cheek, and he leans into the touch, turning his head to press a wet kiss against your palm.

“Was it good?” he asks, sounding far too sweet for someone looking so utterly debauched. Your smile warms him, and his shoulders pull back in pride when you tell him, “It was perfect. You were perfect.” For a long moment the two of you stay like that, your gasping breaths gradually slowing and fading. Outside the bathroom door, the music continues to pound, a gentle reminder. Tup stands. His brothers are no doubt wondering where he’s gone. And yet…

“I–If you want to go–” You cut Tup off when he starts to speak, pressing a finger to his lips. “You were so good for me,” you say, hands searching around Tup’s waist until you find the latch you’re looking for. You lean in for a kiss, tasting your own release on his tongue. Tup’s crotchplate falls to the floor as you speak against his lips. “It’s only fair that I return the favour. Right?”

[deejadabbles]

@sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit Alright, you guys asked for it. @blueink-bluesoul you should be part of this party too

Thank @corrieguards and this post for starting all this

Warnings for: being complete filth, hair pulling, marking, praising, dirty talk, and Tup most definitely NOT being a shy virgin.

EDIT: I posted a full length version of this ficlet, so if you like this, check out the full fic <3

You were fairly certain the sheets were going to rip if you gripped them any tighter.

His lips, his teeth, his tongue, they were working in perfect harmony against your skin. A almost violent moan left your throat when he bit down yet again, another addition to the marks he left across your shoulder and neck, his marks.

"Love it when you moan like that, mesh'la," Tup whispered against the blooming blemish, hot breath fanning over it like a feather light touch. "Love it when I can mark-" he paused and raised his head a little, eyes on the fingers curled into the sheets.

A soft tut tut noise sounded from his tongue.

"Mesh'la," this time, it was almost a scolding, "you know that's not where your hands belong."

Your throat was so dry as you tried to swallow, his words making the ache between your legs pulse. Fingers slowly uncurled from the fabric and reached up to him. With loving care you traced his temple, and tucked some stray curls behind his ear.

Tup closed his eyes, humming at the contact with sensual delight.

Slowly, you started threading fingers through his wonderfully soft locks, letting your nails graze his scalp, and relishing the little moan he let out.

The moan turned to a delighted cry when you grabbed the hair and pulled.

"Yes!" Tup's voice almost cracked as his head snapped back, hips jutting forward as if on instinct, and you hated that your panties got in the way of his already hard cock. His grin was wide, wolfish, even, as he looked down at you through half lidded eyes. "That's my girl," he praised, "so good for me, giving me what I like."

That's when he started moving.

Careful to keep your hands in his hair, Tup started at a teasing pace, lips now trailing down your body. Grazing between the valley of your breasts, nipping over your stomach, and kissing across your hips.

A flash of white teeth met the waistband of your panties, pulled it back, and let it snap against your body with a small slap. Then, he was gazing up at you again, that familiar haze of need and adoration darkening his eyes.

"You gonna hold on tight while I enjoy you?" His tone was just as wicked as his eyes, "Gonna use my hair to take what you want from my mouth?"

"Yes! Maker, yes- Tup, please," you couldn't even care how needy you sounded, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was telling you to abuse his curls in the filthiest ways.

Tup's fingers hooked your panties and began dragging them down, down. "That's my good girl. Don't forget to use your nails too, love it when I can still feel them on my scalp the next day."

Then those lips and tongue and teeth were diving into your wet cunt. The fingers tangled in his hair did not disappoint him.

[1-have-no-idea]

Cold hands and a hot drink

(Gif not mine :))

First meet with Echo!

AN: This is a college AU! I did not create it whatsoever, credit goes to the creators of the college AU, I just decided to write this because like, why not 🤷‍♀️, also, I’ve made multiple parts for different characters (ex: Hunter, Fives, Wrecker, Tup, Dogma, etc…) reader also works as a barista and does extra clubs like Martial Arts ☺️

Character(s): Echo, reader, brief mentions of Fives, brief mention of Yoda, two unnamed background characters

Genre: I honestly don’t really know what to call this, fluff maybe (?) It’s just a nice, first-meet with our baby Echo

Overview: It’s freezing outside, and Echo already has naturally cold hands (hand.). Now they straight up feel dead. And you know what makes cold days even better? Going to a cafe. Of course some random prick has to pick on him though. Luckily for him, an absolute angel comes to his rescue (AHEM, AHEM, you, AHEM-)

Warning(s): Echo gets bullied for his cybernetics 😔, shy baby Echo, Echo swooning over reader, Echo refers reader as ‘angel’, nothing really bad

1096 words (I KNOW IT’S SO SHORT, I’M SORRY, I CURRENTLY HAVE A LONG STORY COOKING UP, I PROMISE—)

———————————————————————————

Wow. The start of college. It’s been a few months, and you felt proud of herself! Your classes were all good, you shared a dorm with an.. ‘okay’ roommate, it was awesome! And, you were working in a cafe! You were pretty much the owner of it, as it was new and you were one of the first workers! No one else took care of it, so, contacting the principal, Yoda— he was a confusing little thing— you asked if you could take care of it and open it. You’d work on it. And, you supposed, it brought us here now. Of course, it wasn’t popular, but some people came in, for the tranquility of it or just a quiet place in the morning.

However, there was this one boy that had frequently visited your shop. A regular. What was his name again? it was different, but pretty and you liked it, oh- Echo! Echo was his name.

A pale man, with cybernetics, which you found awesome. Cybernetics weren’t a rare thing, here. But you never saw a lot of people wearing them. Unless something had happened, which an incident probably did happen to him. You wouldn’t ask though. You knew some things were personal.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, you heard the bells jingle that were connected to the door, signaling someone had come in. Blinking, you turned around, seeing Echo. He was bundled up, shivering.

“Mornin’! What can I get for you! Something warm, I presume?” You spoke up, raising a brow with a smile. He jumped, before giving you a grateful smile and nodding. “Please. I’m freezing over here.” He responded, before moving to sit in the bar area, where he sat on a high chair, blowing into his hand and trying to warm up the metal that replaced his right hand to his forearm.

“Can I just have a hot caff, please?” He requested, making you smile and nod. “Mhm! Anything else? And would you like it black or not?” Echo rubbed his hand on his pants leg, looking at you. “Uhm- black, and uhm,” his pale brown eyes scanned the menu, before deciding. “Can I have strawberry oatmeal, please?” you nodded, before turning your back on him. “I’ll get that ready for you,” you called out, before preparing his food.

A couple moments later, you came back, placing his food in front of him along with his caf, and then grabbing a spoon, handing it to him. As he went to grab it, thanking you softly, your fingers brushed together, making your fingers linger before pulling back, brows furrowed before one raised, staring at him. I mean, you get it, it was super cold today, your hands were cold too, but his? He felt dead.

“Your hands are really cold,” you commented in a tone of slight amusement, making him look away shyly. “I get that a lot,” he admitted. You shook her head, giving him a toothy smile. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s okay. Do you want some hand warmers, though?” You offered. He blinked, raising a brow. “You have those?” You nodded, grinning at him, before pulling them out from one of your drawers and giving the small bag to him. As soon as he grabbed them, he fought back a moan of relief from the warmth, basking in the soft heat he finally felt as he rolled it around in his hand.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, in a state of bliss.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Move, disabled! I don’t want your metal screwdriver of an arm spilling my drink or impaling me.” One of the students at the college said, shoving Echo, almost making him fall out the seat. Echo’s brows furrowed and he glared at the student, but he was used to the comments about his body. It was ritualistic at this point. At least one person once a day had to say something about it. Some students were mean. “Stupid droid,” the man sneered, and Echo was about to open his mouth to let out a retort, but someone else beat him to it.

“Shut up. You’re not funny. No one’s laughing, and I know you’re not talking about him when I vividly remember that it was you who dropped your entire plate in the cafeteria. Oh, and made an entire spill here. And Echo is the one over here with the metal scope for his arm, yet he still has better balance than you. So, unless you’re just trying to make yourself feel better because he’s better than you, shut up.” You spoke, narrowing your eyes at the man whose brows furrowed and flushed a light pink as you called him out and humbled him.

“Leave my customers alone. If you can’t do that, then leave. No one wants you here anyway.” You muttered under your breath sternly, rolling your eyes. The man sputtered, before walking out in a fit of embarrassment and anger. Snorting at his little tantrum, you shrugged. However, as you brushed it off, Echo stared at you with wide eyes. He was baffled. Absolutely flabbergasted. Never had he been stood up for before. Only his twin and some of his other brothers, but never a stranger. He felt his heart warm, and for once on this very, very cold day, he felt warm.

“Thank you,” he whispered shyly, clearing his throat awkwardly. You turned to him with a smile, features immediately softening and becoming more friendly as you focused on him. “Course! It’s what any other person would do,”

No they wouldn’t, only you,

Echo wanted to stay, but he was quiet, listening to you with a shy and adoring smile. Then, you grinned at him mischievously once more. “Don’t listen to him either. Honestly,” you leaned forward towards him, as if sharing a secret that no one else could hear while smirking softly.

“I like your cybernetics. They’re really cool. And also? You’re pretty.” You admitted, a cheeky smile on your face as you leaned away, shrugging. Echo felt the tips of his ears burn, and his face felt hot as he swallowed. “Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. They’re just mad.” You joked, a chuckle leaving you. “I- I, oh, well, I uhm- thank you,” he stammered out, flustered and shy, making you nod with a small laugh.

“Angel,” he mumbled out, as she turned around to tend to the others, a blush on his pale face. He should bring his brother here. Fives would like you. He knew. After all, he and his brother liked the same things usually.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Of Rex, Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, Dogma, and Tup, (and pre-citadel Echo if you wish) who goes into the fresher for a shower with clean clothes to change into and comes out wearing them, who comes out of the fresher in a towel, and who comes out nakkies?

*Cracks knuckles* Round 3... Fight!

Rex: I mentioned this once before, but Rex has developed a healthy paranoia about his time in the fresher. As such, he enters in his full kit, checks the vents, the cabinets, and tests the hot/cold water before taking it off. Once, he left without getting all geared up because of an 'emergency' message on his datapad. He was never able to get the damn glitter out of his blacks, and the look in Skywalker's eyes made it clear he noticed.

Fives: Listen. Time in the fresher is just an alibi to be places he shouldn't: the ventilation systems of the mess haul (when everyone has the same voice, it's pretty easy to start fights from a safe distance), Rex's private quarters (the look of horror on his face when Skywalker glimpsed to newly painted pinup of Padme on his bedside wall was worth doing inventory for the next month), or his own barracks when everyone's out (swapping Dogma and Tup's boots left them just uncomfortable enough to know something was off but couldn't figure out exactly what for nearly a week). When he finally does shower, he comes out in only a towel - he's just too damn pretty to keep everything covered all the time (in truth, Echo ran off with his blacks, but he won't admit someone got one over on him).

Jesse: Goes to the fresher in blacks and leaves in blacks. If someone wants to try something, he'll know exactly who to blame and won't shy from getting retribution.

Hardcase: Kinda varies day by day. Like @sunshinesdaydream said, he has a tendency to forget his towel, so there have been many an occasion where he's wandering around looking for it, or someone else's, to, ahem, borrow. Other days, he'll come out with just his lower blacks on with the intent to throw a shirt on later, and promptly spends most of the day like that without even realizing it. Shucks.

Kix: He only hits the fresher right before finally going to bed, and he's usually exhausted by then. Sometimes he'll get into clean blacks, sometimes he just shuffles to his bed in a towel and sleeps like that. If Tup sees him on a day like that, he'll usually throw a blanket over him and move his forgotten blacks from the fresher to his bedside so he doesn't have to hunt for them when he wakes up.

Dogma: Clean blacks. Every time. Almost every time - just not the days Hardcase and Fives hack the door and liberate them, or cut holes in unfortunate locations. He also folds his towel before putting in the laundry shoot.

Tup: He's so confused why everyone's so paranoid about using the fresher, but that's only because he's the sole member no one messes with much. Hardcase once put blue dye in his shampoo, but it was temporary so Tup just rolled with it. He comes out comfy and clean in his blacks still fighting to somewhat tame his hair.

Echo: He places a nicely folded set of clean blacks nearby with a dc-17 even closer (set to stun of course), and he'll step over Fives' and Hardcase's unconscious bodies without so much as looking down, happily dripping water on them.

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[mwolf0epsilon]

Fleeting Memory

Summary: Tup is a selfish man.

[Clone Beans AU got me feeling things about Reconditioned Troopers and so why not subject you to some angst with an open ending? Also don't be too tough on Tup, he's trying to come to terms with some really difficult feelings...]

---

Selfishly, Tup can't help but to see Dogma in '22.

It's not a very healthy way to cope with the situation. It's certainly not a fair thing to do to '22. But it's something that Tup can't help but to do to keep himself afloat. To help to deal with the fiery anger that courses in his veins, now that he knows what ultimately happened to his little brother.

In hindsight, the 501st should have asked questions when the report came in. They should have kicked up a fuss and pried into the business of the Kaminoans, when a trooper that had been sent away for temporary detention and questioning turned up "dead" on their meticulous watch.

Such a blatantly shallow excuse as 'logistics error' shouldn't have been met with as much open acceptance from the part of the clones. Especially not after the shitshow that had been Umbara.

Kaminoans were not, after all, prone to making that big of a blunder when precious credits were on the line. Tiny mistakes like mislabeling a clone as someone else, was not something that happened on Kamino. Because, as every single one of them unfortunately knew, everything the long-neck scientists did, they did with a purpose.

And Tup now knew what purpose it served to try to wipe Dogma from the annals of GAR history. Knew the reason very intimately, in fact, as that had been the very same purpose behind his own attempted reconditioning... The results of which are forever marked on Tup Bean, who suffers in an entirely different way from Tup.

There are many ways in which '22 is very much like Dogma.

They share a face (obviously). A very particular way of looking at things that made him look equal parts like the wobbly-legged fathier foal that barely knew how to fare for itself, and the street-smart tooka trying to figure out how to get what it wanted without getting caught.

It was a very difficult expression to explain. Both unsure of a situation and yet so emboldened by the intrigue of figuring it out. It was Dogma in the most Dogma way possible. That mind-boggling oxymoron of uniqueness within conformity, that only he had known how to exist as.

What's more, '22 has certain mannerisms that scream Dogma all over them. The way he prepares himself in the morning in a specific order (shower, socks first, clean undershorts next, body-suit from the bottom up, shave, then finally put on shoes). The clicking of his jaw from side to side when he's thinking about something pretty hard. Or the way he pressed his thumb against each individual finger when he's counting to himself in his head. Even the way he separates his food into organized little piles on his plate so that none of the different options are touching...

Tup had seen Dogma do those things too many times to count on one hand. He sees '22 do them more openly. Never once checking to see if others are watching as he does these things that Tup's little brother used to be somewhat self-conscious of.

This of course leads him to think of the many ways in which '22 is not like Dogma at all.

For as much as his twin used to be shy and reserved, there was no denying that he at least had a steely sort of conviction. So much so that sometimes Dogma would fight to the bitter end when it came to quarrels. In fact, his many strong opinions on certain matters had always been the cause behind his ineptitude at getting along with others. The reason why silly disagreements broke out between him and the rest of their vode so very often (which Dogma Bean, little chaotic hellion that he'd been, often used as an excuse to get back at anyone he considered to have wronged his trooper).

It had bothered Dogma (he had wanted to fit in with the rest of the 501st just as much as Tup did). But not enough that he'd stoop so low as to pretend to be someone he was not. He refused to have his intelligence diminished by others just to be more likeable to them. In his opinion, a friendship was not worth its weight in credits if people couldn't meet at the middle.

Dogma only put in the effort if the other person did as well. And that was something Tup had admired him for. The fact he'd been so very strong-willed (a quality that had been so unfairly turned against him) despite his constant social failings.

In contrast '22 was, for lack of a better descriptor, comparatively spineless. Much more easy to intimidate in a verbal lashing than Dogma ever was. Quieter too. So much so that he never expressed things like discomfort or pain. Even in the face of severe injury (Coric had once thrown an absolute fit when he'd caught him walking on a very obviously broken leg).

He also felt no real compulsion to try to actively make friends. Most of the time he looked at people almost like he was seeing right through them. It made sense. He'd spent far too long in isolation to have any kind of social understanding that didn't come with some very dark connotations.

It was something they were working on (at the very least '22 didn't seem opposed to hanging out with him and Fives, so he counted that as at least some improvement on this particular topic).

Another thing Tup had discovered was that '22's food preferences were different from Dogma's. Kix and Sponge had taken him aside and explained that this was a typical side-effect of what was essentially medically induced brain damage. Reconditioning, they had said, was a very tasking process that messed with a lot of fragile things inside your noggin'.

It was not uncommon for those who suffered a TBI to report their senses of taste and smell to be affected in some way. Tup himself had found that some things he used to eat didn't taste quite as nice as they once had. But seeing '22 scarf down very rich chocolate puddings and other desserts, rather than opt for the savory options was a sight that baffled him at times...

'22 hates cheese (always pushing any thoughtful offerings of what had once been Dogma's favourite treat towards DB, who eagerly accepted them in his stead). He lacks manners as well. But this is more of a motor skill issue than a misunderstanding of proper conduct.

Because another thing that differs heavily between '22 and Dogma, is that the former is constantly shaking and twitching and barely able to hold a spoon steadily, while the latter had perfect posture and a stillness to him reminiscent of a statue. The picture perfect soldier.

Tup knows why he reaches so much to grasp at what little remains of Dogma. He knows why he tries to bring back memories that simply aren't there for '22. He knows why only DB gives him the time of day to talk about these things. The black and white Bean (once a dark blue and red), understands all too well what grief looks like.

Those little yellow eyes of him so full of that familiar ache.

And it's grief that pushes Tup to frustrate '22 so much. He's selfish, wanting Dogma back so much that he sometimes ignores the look of hurt on '22's face. Can anyone fault him?

Knowing the truth is so much worse than thinking his twin had been killed in some stupid logistics accident. Because then at least either a soft-shell medic or a brother in gray, would have been there to comfort him until that damned needle went into his arm and administered the killing dose.

It would be scary but it wouldn't last an eternity of mental anguish.

What happened instead was a bunch of callously indifferent Kaminoans cracked open Dogma's skull and jumbled everything of worth that was inside.

Reset him into a shell of his former self, and then forced him to build himself back up without anyone there to give him a hand. All the while they forced him to look after the lab that had picked him apart and than spat him out wrong.

Tup had watched while strapped down to a metal slab. Head a constant flash of agony. Eye-sockets violated by tiny hammers and needles that whittled away at things he didn't think he'd ever get back. Skin a prickle with goose flesh from the chill and the sight of the dead man walking around him with a mop in hand.

Never once had '22 looked at him with any kind of pity. Just cleaned with a cold sort of indifference, because he'd seen far too many clones like himself and Tup in the same situation to really care.

Been desensitized to the process because it was scarily normal...

He was better now, but that wasn't much in comparison to what he could be. '22 was not Dogma. '22 would never again be Dogma. And that hurt a lot. Tup wasn't ready to let go just yet, even when his mind played dirty tricks on him and dared to forget stuff that he wanted to commit to memory.

The fact '22 was starting to grow on him of his own merit, scared the hell out of Tup. Because he was scared that maybe in accepting his little brother as he was now, he might forget Dogma. He didn't want to forget Dogma. Not like how the GAR and the Republic had.

What a karked up galaxy they lived in that he had to sacrifice the dignity of a brother for the ghost of another...

[awkward-tension-art]

Puppet on a String Chp.5 (Fives x Reader)

Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Necrosis

cw: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, angst, swearing, anti-jedi sentiment, Death mentioned, violence, Medical abuse, Medical talk, seizures and neurological symptoms, Nala Se being cruel

Tag list (THANK YOU): @spicydonut25 @notgonnaedit @amazonian-bae @tentakelspektakel

The ship ride to Ringo Vinda was stressful. To pass the time and keep yourself busy, you counted the supplies in the pack you had brought.

Tup killed a Jedi…

How? Why? This was Tup. Sweet, shy and honest Tup! He’d never kill a Jedi without reason!

The transport landed in The Resolute hangar. As soon as the doors opened, you were greeted by Fives and General Skywalker. 

“Doctor,” the General offered his hand and you shook it in greeting, “I’m glad that you’re here.” 

“I’m glad Fives called.” You responded, walking in between both men, “What's the situation?”

You were informed of the disaster of Ringo Vinda. Jedi Tiplar was shot point blank by Tup. Ever since the trooper had been in and out of it, only repeating one phrase.

Good soldiers follow orders. 

To make matters more confusing, the Seppies had kidnapped Tup as well. He had only just been rescued but his health was at a steady decline. The 501st doctor was trying their best to keep him alive, but they were overwhelmed with the amount of injured and dead from the defeat on Ringo Vinda. 

Fives called you for help. And based on everything you heard, and the chaos of the ship, he made a good decision. 

You were led to the transport ship where Tup was loaded. They were preparing for a second attempt to Kamino. The clone trooper was restrained, and an oxygen mask was fixed over his face.

Immediately you snapped into gear. 

“Let me see his latest scans,” you commanded, going to Tup’s side. Your fingers pulled a pen with a light and clicked it on. Lifting one of the troopers eyelids you shone the light and flicked it away. You repeated the small test with his other eyes and pulled back, “Pupils are fixed and dilated.” you announced, standing straight. 

Traumatic brain injury. 

Neurological problems made sense given the symptoms. But what part of the brain could have been injured….?

The anomaly. 

Kix, a medic you’ve met before, handed you a datapad. Your eyes roamed the screen, unhappy at the lack of actual data. Where was that lesion the 501st doctor sent you months ago?!

“There's nothing here.” you stated, looking up, “I’ve gotten scans before. From your field surgeon.”

“The umbaran scanner,” Kix perked up, confused, “We still have it but-.”

“Get it,” your tone was sharp, “And we need to get to Kamino as fast as possible.” He needed intense surgery if this was as bad as you thought. 

It was less than 2 minutes later when you had the scanner and used it.

The data had your body in fight or flight. It was worse than you thought.

Glutamate: 20um (Alert Too Low)

Gamma-aminobutyric acid: 45.89 umol/L (Alert Too High)

Synaptic response time: 15ms (Alert Too Low)

You swallowed, eyes going wide, “We need to go, now!”

“Mesh’la?” Fives asked, sitting down on the ship as it hummed to life. Captain Rex remained silent, deciding to stay with Tup after the Separatist attack. However, his head was turned to you, waiting for an explanation.

“Total neurological failure,” Your response was full of dread. You tapped the screen, focusing on the anomaly. The news only got worse.

Alert: Necrosis right orbital floor, parietal and temporal intersection

“His brain is necrotic.” 

Just as you spoke, Tup seized. His body convulsed, spasming violently. 

“Tup!” Fives yelped, dashing to the side of the hover stretcher.

Immediately you ripped off the restraints, and flipped the clone trooper on his side. Your hands held him down just enough to keep him steady as he thrashed and twitched. Mentally, you counted the seconds, needing to keep track until he stilled.

3 minutes and 26 seconds.

“How many seizures has he had before this one?” You looked up at your lover.

You were met with a shake of his head. When you looked to Rex, he also gave the same response. 

Damnit. You mentally swore, Working with almost nothing.

The neurological issues couldn’t be dealt with here. So you switched your methods to life support. Using the supplies you had, which wasn’t enough, you slowed the breaking down of his neural tissue as much as you could. You could buy him time. That's what matters. 

“Mesh’la?” Fives spoke up, “What…do you think is the cause of this?”

You shook your head, “Without the umbaran scanner I’d assume virus or bacteria. Hell, maybe even prions or parasites.” Your eyes glanced over at the data on the tablet, “But…based on what I’ve seen, this is a genetic issue. Caused by a specific area in the brain.”

Captain Rex perked up, “Could this happen to anyone else?” 

You shrugged, “possibly? Even though you're clones, you're only identical with your base DNA. Since the Kaminoans have been stretching genetic material by adding different genes to fill in the gaps, it could be unique to Tup.”

It's been brought up during the ethics committee meetings. Since Jango Fett had been killed, the genetic material for the clones was in limited supply. So the Kaminoans had to find ways to make it last. 

You once tried to argue that since they weren’t exact genetic copies, the definition of clones no longer fit. Nala Se had shot you down and practically called you an idiot when you suggested that the troopers weren’t clones but children of Jango Fett. 

With a sigh, you gently pet Tup’s head. You’ve pulled his hair out of its tight bun, to at the very least help him feel more comfortable. 

Thankfully, he was stable for the rest of the travel to Kamino. As soon as the ship landed, you were rushing him down the ramp. Thunder crackled overhead and the downpour was brutal, but you didn’t care.

Your patient needed you. Tup needed you.

Some troopers in gray and white surrounded you as soon as you got inside. and in your panic you tried to shove one of them away. 

“Easy, Doctor.” Shaak Ti’s voice caused you to look up. Next to the beautiful togruta was Nala Se.

“General, Doctor,” you greeted the both of them, though you were breathless, “Tup’s brain is necrotic. I need to-”

“You must calm down.” the Jedi stepped forward, putting a hand on your shoulder. She pulled you away and let the Kaminoan take Tup.

Fives and Rex were behind you, “No, you don’t understand. His brain is literally failing him.” You desperately tried to explain, “I think I know what's causing it, there's a…anomaly. A tumor or lesion that's in his brain.”

She looked at you in interest, “You’ve already been looking for the cause of this?” 

“Here, General.” Fives handed the umbaran scanner to her, “It's an umbaran scanner. The field surgeon of the 501st had-”

“We will run our own tests,” Nala Se called back, head snapping to stare at him, “We don’t need to use unreliable, primitive technology.” The Kaminoans stare was empty and cold, “The most likely cause of this is a virus.” she reached and snatched the tablet out of Fives’ hands.

“But-”

“Do not worry,” Shaak Ti tried to calm the both of you, “Doctor Nala Se is the Chief Medical Scientist on Kamino. She was one of the primary engineers of all the clones, and she’ll know what to do. I trust her judgment.”

You swallowed, and nodded. You didn’t like Nala Se, but you’d be a fool to ignore her skill and intellect. Honestly, you could be wrong and that anomaly on the scan was just…nothing.

The Jedi continued, “Now we must take care of you.” Her words were directed at the ARC trooper, “Since you’ve served with Tup the longest.”

“Me?” Fives perked up, “There's nothing wrong with me, General. I’m perfectly fine.”

You shook your head, “Possible contamination.” Your sigh was tired, “We’ll have to do a physical exam. Possibly even a blood draw.” You explained to him with a reassuring smile. Now that Tup was in capable hands, you felt much better.

“You haven't entered the advanced stages yet, as Tup has,” Shaak Ti looked at Fives as she gave her reasons for the tests, “but any information we can gather from you could help to find a cure for Tup.”

Your lover sighed and nodded, “All right, General, If it’ll help Tup.”

The Jedi then addressed Rex, who had been silently walking behind you, “Captain Rex, General Skywalker has ordered you back to the war zone.” She stopped walking beside a door to an examination room, “You are to leave immediately.”

Rex frowned but nodded, “I’m sorry, Fives. I wish I could stay, but duty calls.”

The ARC trooper patted his friend's shoulder, “It’s fine, Sir. Fighting a virus is a nice change of pace from all those clankers.” He tried to joke, if only to make himself feel better.

The Captain put his helmet back on, “Take care of yourself... and Tup.” Without another word he nodded and turned to get back to the ship. 

You were separated from Fives. He had to be examined alone while you stayed with Tup. He was your patient, and he was your responsibility.

“Your help is not needed, Doctor.” Nala Se spoke rather coldly when you walked into the testing room where the sick clone trooper was placed. 

“He is my patient.” You answered, “And I will not abandon him now.”

The Kaminoan was about to argue, but Shaak Ti cut through first, “I see no reason the doctor cannot help in the tests.”

“Tests?” Your surprise was clear, “No, there's no need for tests. You're just wasting time. We know the most likely cause. There's necrosis-”

“We need to be certain of that.” Nala Se snapped, “Unknown, unreliable technology from a formerly enemy planet can give false information. Besides, the breaking down of his brain could be linked to a virus.”

“But-”

The Jedi stepped next to the Kaminoan, “Nala Se’s theory of a virus should be confirmed first. If we do not locate the virus and cure it, no surgery will stop the…spread.”

“General, with all due respect, I don’t believe it’s a virus.” You argued, “No virus can cause such damage in such a short amount of time. And my scans have confirmed some type of…malignancy in the brain. It's not a virus.”

“Unless it had been engineered by the Separatists.” Nala Se chimed in, large eyes not breaking away from yours, “In which case, isolating the virus to create a cure is priority. So it doesn’t spread.” 

“Well my priority is saving Tup’s life.” You slammed your hands on the table, raising your voice slightly. 

Shaak Ti acted as mediator again, “Enough,” her tone was sharp, “Nala Se, perform rapid tests, if they do not come back with an answer, the doctor shall do what they need to treat him properly.” Her lavender eyes flicked between you and your adversary, “Arguing helps no one.”

You could see out of the corner of your eye that Fives was watching you argue. He looked out of his element, and so…afraid. 

Your breath was shaky at best, “Very well. Forgive me, General.”

“Let’s begin the tests.” The Jedi announced.

Nala Se nodded, turning to the medical droid next to her, “Administer the stimulant.”

Wait, stimulant?

The droid stabbed the needle directly into Tup’s chest. 

“Wait, stimulants will-”

Nala Se cut you off, “Remove his mask.”

As soon as Tup’s flow of oxygen was cut off, he gasped. The clone trooper seized again, spasming wildly. He had been restrained, and immediately you reached to free him.

“Do not interrupt the test.” The Kaminoan commanded, “His reactions are normal.”

You snapped, “He’s seizing!”

“It is all part of the test.” She responded. 

There was a bang and you whirled around.

Fives was slamming his fists against the observation glass. His eyes were wide and he was panicked. He shouted, desperately trying to get information.

Shaak Ti raised a single hand, blacking out the window, blocking his view. 

I’m sorry, my darling. You thought, heart breaking. He must be terrified without answers.

“His reaction will subside,” Nala Se stated so coldly. She was disinterested, as if bored by Tup's suffering, “The patient must be awake for the next round of tests.”

“How is that needed!?” You snapped, “He doesn’t need to be awake to find a virus!”

“I agree.” Shaak Ti stated, “I am not fond of these hyper tests.”

The Kaminoan continued with her cruel tests, “Yes, but they do give us all the information we need in a timely fashion.” 

You approached Tup, grabbing his hand, “He’s scared.” You mumbled, “He’s scared and in pain.” 

Nala Se’s flat voice spoke up as she typed on a tablet, “There does not seem to be any sign of infection in the blood.” Her large eyes stared down, reading the information, “How curious. The subject has tested negative on all accounts.”

Tup went slack, gasping and wheezing. You squeezed his hand, hoping to let him know he wasn’t alone. “Good! No virus! Can I treat him now!?” You asked, looking to Shaak Ti for help. 

The clone trooper mumbled, breathless, “W-Why am I here..?” 

“Is he conscious?” The Jedi next to you stepped closer. 

Tup tensed, his foggy gaze zeroed in on the togruta, “Follow orders…” He croaked, beginning to thrash against his restraints, “Kill Jedi. Kill Jedi!”

“Are you finished with your tests?” Shaak Ti remained perfectly calm in the face of such stress. 

“For now.” Nala Se confirmed. 

“Sedate him.”

The medical droid turned with the sedation oxygen mask. However, you snatched it out of its metal claws, “Tup, Tup look at me.” You whispered, getting his attention. 

The trooper seemed to calm the moment you blocked his view from the General, “Orders…I need to…Follow orders…” 

“I know. You're a good soldier, Tup.” You pet his hair, “I’m going to give you oxygen, alright?” 

He swallowed, laying back fully. Once he got a few lungs full of the medicated oxygen, his eyes closed. 

The Jedi beside you hummed in thought, “It appears this clone has orders to kill a Jedi. Perhaps the Separatists found a way to brainwash him.” her gaze was on Tup, “A surgery may destroy the effects of the brainwashing, and any evidence it occurred. We need to understand it.”

“General, please…” you begged, “I have the umbaran scanner-”

“I disposed of that primitive thing.” The Kaminoan scientist responded, turning her back to you, “Such technology is nothing compared to what we have here.”

“What?!” Your shout was full of rage, “That wasn’t yours to throw away!” 

“We have better scanners here, on Kamino.”

“Oh you self-centered, long-necked, cun-!”

“Enough!” Shaak Ti’s voice sliced between the both of you like a hot knife, cutting off your very vicious insult, “This petty fight between the two of you ends, now. Nala Se, continue whatever tests you can do while he is under sedation.” She snapped, finally reaching her limit, “And you, check on Fives.”

You furrowed your brow but let out a tense sigh, “Yes, General.” Your steps rushed from the surgical room and went to where the ARC trooper was held. 

Once the door opened, Fives shot up, “Mesh’la!” 

“Please sit back down,” a small hovering medical droid ordered; however, your lover ignored the command. 

His arms wrapped around you as soon as the door was closed behind you. He pulled back to hold your face and give you a heated kiss. 

You returned his affection eagerly before you broke the kiss to speak, “Thank goodness you’re alright…Nala Se isn’t listening to me. Neither is the General.”

He tensed, “What? Why?”

“I..I don’t know. Nala Se threw away the umbaran scanner that originally found the…” Your words faded off. With a cold realization, it became clear to you. 

The umbaran scanner found the anomaly in the clone's brains originally. The scans were sent to several doctors in the Grand Republic Medical Facility. The Ethics committee was informed by Dr.Mila, that's why they left for Kamino. Then they were attacked and killed. The other deaths, the murders that ended the lives of more of your colleagues, occurred afterward. Then you were nearly killed…

At first, you thought it was the Separatist plot to make the Republic look weak. But now, you realized the true reason. Behind the death. The despair.

Everyone who died knew about the brain anomaly.

Nala Se is hiding something.