#the neon lights of coruscant

[emilianadarling]

A very belated title card for Heart Beats Slow from The Neon Lights of Coruscant series, featuring @lovey-dovey-and-sad's beautiful art! Luke and Din's first kiss from Chapter Two, showcasing the point of impact in question. 😊😀

(Plz go check out lovey's comic for the full delicious experience. 👀)

[sw5w]

I'd Say About, Uh, 12 Parsecs...

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:33:08

[rochenn]

I am so deeply fascinated by those illustrations of Coruscant having harbors. Like, water harbors. Piers. You can go to the docks in the underlevels and stare out over an ocean locked inside a man-made cavern. Isn't that so crazy. Like there would be deep sea creatures close to the surface at all times because natural light is sparse. You can get street food and sit in the climate-control breeze in neon lighting while looking at fish that are just as neon bright. Terrifying. But you can't deny the vibes

[stargirl-writes]

respite

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 2.2k

masterlist

summary

Amid the war, a healer and a soldier find themselves entangled in a delicate dance between love and survival. When exhaustion and unspoken wounds threaten to drive them apart, they must confront the weight of their fears, jealousy, and vulnerability—knowing that healing isn’t always about fixing what’s broken, but learning to hold on through the storm.

tags : angst, angst with a happy ending (!)

warnings : blood, tending to a wound

notes : hello my loves <3, 1 yr writing for a.s. and long story short all my energy was used trying to survive my medical internship. healer! reader is my most self indulgent coping mechanism— here's another angsty catastrophizing passage i'd like to share wit y'all hehe

Anakin Skywalker was a knife personified.

Sharp, blunt, useful. A touch can draw blood.

But despite the danger, he was made of steel— unrelenting and unyielding. One would make an effort to not stare too much— at what his purpose of being reveals; that in the hands of someone cruel, he becomes something of a weapon.

They say that the healer has the bloodiest hands— a permanent imprint of those you've saved and those you've failed.

You try not to think about it too much— your losses cannot equate to the priviledge of a chance to keep someone alive. That was a gift. Only a God can define salvation—what you're doing is an attempt.

But what did your fingers ever do before they held him?

All of it seemed to pale in comparison.

Maybe the sun has set differently in Coruscant, a place always buzzing with neon and noise— maybe you just stopped noticing it the way you stopped noticing him. You don't know why there remained a part of you that was mistrusting, waiting for him to grow tired with you. Instead, the jagged streaks of electric blue and searing magenta faded into something soft, casting a warm golden light that lingers even after the sun slips behind the horizon, refusing to ever dim.

It's both comforting and heartbreaking that over time you could forget holding onto something so sharp long enough to feel it slip— can leave a trail of blood.

The door to your quarter hisses open— and the weight of Anakin fills the room before he utters a word. His boots are heavy on the floor, dragging with a kind of exhaustion that sinks deeper than muscle and bone. Even his shoulders, which assumes the posture of a Jedi slumps forward. He pauses— gaze wide and apprehending.

His robes are dark with dust and sweat, blood smeared across the cuffs of his bionic arms— not his, someone else's. Always someone else's. He stands there too long, unmoving, as if having already read what's on your mind.

"You're hurt," You speak across the room.

"I'm fine."

His voice is low, flat, like all the life has been scraped out of it. You've seen this before, the wounds he carries aren't the ones stitched into his skin.

He turns on his heel, taking off his clothes. You step closer, noticing the slight wince as he tries to reach for his robes. He held a pose of defiance, unflinching even as you slowly took off the fabric that clung to his flesh. You pressed your palm against the soft skin of his shoulders, coaxing him to sit by the edge of the bed.

He lets out a sigh as the robe slips off. You turn to grab the medkit sitting at your bedside table— its existence a harsh reminder that anytime he comes home— so will the hurt that resides deep within him.

His eyes are hooded and dark as he follows your fingers gently press over a gash lining his chest. He sat still— either too tired to care or too numbed to feel it.

"You can't keep doing this, Anakin,"

He tilts his chin upward, "Doing what?"

You paused, eyes locking in a silent challenge as he kept playing asinine.

"Coming back half-dead and pretending it doesn't matter" You pressed the cloth over his wound, he hisses, flinching away.

He takes your wrist, eyebrows furrowed at your accusation. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Barely."

You seal the wound with a sterile band, the scar tissue will build thick and uneven, just like all pain that he refuses to touch buried deep underneath.

It's hard not to get frustrated to watch Anakin undo all the work you've done— that he would resort to passively allowing it to hurt. His skill with a saber is unquestionable, a droid won't be able to even come near him to inflict pain. As the war dragged on— he'd come home late at night appearing more and more injured. Perhaps it's his way to alleviate some guilt. Because he needs it to believe a sort of redemption— that he is not reduced to what was required of him.

A weapon. Unyielding. Unrelenting.

You turn to pack your materials back to the medkit— no longer able to stomach the tensed silences. You can't quite remember when it felt as though you've become one. Someone who deals death and someone who restores life. Where you began and where he ended was the most beautiful thread in the fabric of fate. There had only been one night—just one— where he let himself sleep, slumped against you in a rare moment of peace. You remember the way his breathing evened, slow and steady, as if for a few precious hours, the war has loosened his grip on him. And the room is blanketed with a sort of promise, that he'll be here for you as you were for him. And that also meant working through the difficult days where loving simply won't suffice.

It seems that the difficult days are outnumbering the ones where you both were happy. Thinking back at it makes you feel as if those days had been another lifetime ago.

He slumps down the bed, arms folded holding his head. "I've handed the 501st' command to Ahsoka, the mission in Mandalore is dragging on, I need her with me,"

He's always carried more than he should. Always assumed the weight of a galaxy, even when it would break him. Having your back against him made it easier to deliberately slow down your words to an unassuming casualness. "Without Obi-Wan?"

You go to Obi-Wan to fill the gaps of the chasm forming between you and Anakin, the ones only Obi-Wan seems to understand.

You turn to sit down beside him. You didn't need to access the force to feel the shift in the atmosphere.

"I haven't seen him in a while," His eyes were staring ahead— up at the ceiling. "So… how is Obi-Wan?"

There was an unmistakable edge to his words—tinged with bitterness and accusation.

"What?"

He chuckles hollowly. "I figured you'd know by now. You always run to him."

His sarcasm drips with an underlying insecurity. Obi-Wan, a person he looks up to, being more trustworthy than he was. He's trying not to sound accusatory but it's obvious that he's struggling with jealousy.

You open your mouth to say something. To defend your actions. What else could you have resorted to? When anytime you try to bridge that gap between you, he turns away. Your heart lodges in your throat— any attempt to explain just sounded as if you and Obi-Wan had been conspiring to manage him.

He straightens, balancing his weight against his arms, gaze demanding an answer. "Why do you keep going to him?"

"I'm not—"

He stands to his feet, tension rippling through his body like a coiled spring. "Yes you are! Every time you think something's wrong you look for him like I'm in need of fixing."

You clasp your fingers together— begging them to steady. "I'm only worried about you— you keep coming home changed like…"

"You're disappearing.“ You answered, "How long can you go on like this without breaking?"

There was a beat of silence. He rubs his temples, pacing bad and forth like staying still is the hardest thing he's ever done.

"And so what, you're going to keep patching me up thinking I'll be someone else?" "No," "—Then stop pretending that I am."

“I keep losing everyone, I can't lose you too." You utter as the guilt verbalizes.

His expression softens recognizing the vulnerability of your words. Something in him falters— just for a moment, a breath—and the weight of his exhaustion settles to his shoulders. He kneels down in front of you.

"You're not losing me," He says, quiter this time, as if he's convincing himself as much as you.

"It feels like it…"

He clasps his fingers over your hands, unraveling them. He opens his mouth to say something back—but then he stops. His head dips, the fight draining out of him. In the quietness, you could hear him pace his breaths with yours.

"You're not going to go through this alone anymore," He shifts closer, his bare chest leaving imprints on the skin of your knees. "Ahsoka will be on Mandalore while Obi-Wan takes Utapau, I'll stay here."

Your fingers slip through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead, tracing the uneven skin lining his face. He leans into your touch, and for a little while, the storm settles, just enough to let you both breathe.

He'll always be someone else's arsenal. He is yours. In a way that you wear his touch as a shield, his promises as hope from all the battles left to fight. He plants soft kisses on the palm of your hand, and a light ignites. Something eternal. Something that tells you that there are things worth holding on to—even when it hurts. You're not going to find the resolution tonight. But this was the beginning. That would have to be enough.

"I'm staying," He says as he presses his lips to your palm again, as if sealing the promise neither of you fully understands yet.

You nod, a smallest curve at the corner of your lips, for a fleeting moment, you feel him smile too.

It feels as though love will suffice. You knew he'd weave the fabrics of fate until it only spells your name. That he will tire, and it will not be easy.

"You know for someone who's fine, you're really bad at hiding pain."

Anakin's lips curved to a faint tired smirk— barely there, but real enough to make your heart lighten. He snakes his long fingers against your waist, pulling you closer until his warmth anchors you.

"Guess you must be rubbing off on me." He murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion, but there's a softness in it—like something broken finding a way to heal.

For a moment the weight lifts. It's not gone, not really, but the edges have dulled enough that you can hold him and not wince at the contact of him being pressed against you. Neither of you speaks again, nor moves again. In the dim of night, with senses dulled, the ordinary becomes profound. And— all of the terror slips away, for now. He no longer is someone that breeds horror. He is love. Made solely to be felt by you.

[anakinca]

Hi nina ✨️ could you please write a sweet story of Anakin and senator reader where Anakin takes her to Dex's restaurant. Something like Anakin has a day off from jedi duties and wants to spend time with his lovely girlfriend. He asks her to take the day off from her work.It is the first time he takes her there he knows she is used to fancy places but he wants to share everything with her, he can tell her that when he was padawan Obi wan took him there and it is a place where they don't have to worry , but she doesn't care she loves Anakin and is happy with him. For a moment they can be free and be a normal couple.

—❝comforting❞

anakin skywalker x reader

tw ; nothing, just pure fluff

a/n ; hey, angel !! this was such a beautiful prompt im SOBBING. i had so much fun with this !! i took a lot of components from anakin and padme's little coruscant date in the brotherhood novel, so that's why some parts may be a little recognizable to people who've read the book. i'm always looking for more requests cause i'm seriously dying from writers block, so never be afraid to send one in !!

CORUSCANT’S GLITTERING SKYLINE SPARKLED IN THE DISTANCE AS ANAKIN GUIDED THE RENTED SPEEDER THROUGH THE WINDING LANES OF TRAFFIC. The lower levels of the city seemed quieter at this hour, the hum of life muted compared to the chaos above. Beside him, you leaned back in your seat, your laughter mingling with the whir of the speeder’s engine, your heartbeat a little faster than normal due to Anakin’s not less than reckless piloting. 

The city’s glow reflected in your eyes, your hair swept by the breeze, and a joyous grin on your lips as you gaze at all the city lights. Anakin takes a couple glances at you every now and then, and in his eyes, all he sees is a pure angel. 

Neither of you two could risk being caught together, which is why the lower levels of Coruscant were best for a night out. Your Senatorial robes had been traded for some dark trousers and a dark green cowl—an unassuming outfit that wouldn’t have you noticed. It blends in with the surroundings and matches Anakin’s own clothing—a simple mechanic’s coat draped over his Jedi tunic to give the appearance of an everyday laborer and not a Jedi Knight. 

“Anakin,” you teased, your voice lilting with amusement, “Are you ever going to tell me where you’re taking me? Or do you plan to keep me in suspense all night?”

He laughed a little, a grin adoring his features, and his hands steady on the controls. “If I told you, it would ruin the surprise.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, though the smile on your face betrayed you. “I’m beginning to think you’re stalling because you don’t actually have a plan.”

“Oh, I have a plan,” he assured you, the playful mischief in his voice making your heart flutter. “And you’re going to love it. Trust me.” Anakin reaches over to gently squeeze your shoulder in a loving gesture, then puts his hand back on the throttle. 

The speeder dipped lower, weaving through the neon-lit streets of Coruscant’s mid-level districts. Now going into a quieter district, the neon lights of small shops and diners cast colourful reflections on the speeder’s polished surface. You couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly Anakin maneuvered through the chaos. His confidence was as natural as the wind in your hair, and you found yourself relaxing, simply enjoying the moment. 

When Anakin finally pulled into a secluded spot outside a retro-style diner with the words Dex’s Diner glowing in bright blue above the entrance, you tilted your head in curiosity.

“This is where we’re eating?” You asked, studying the modest establishment, your lips quirking up at the sides.

“This is it,” Anakin said, hopping out of the speeder and coming around to open your door. He offered his hand, his expression softening with a slightly sheepish look. “I know it’s not like the Senate’s finest banquet halls that you’re used to, but… it’s special to me.”

Your fingers slipped into his as you stepped out, your gaze now fixed on him. “Special?” You echoed, your voice gentle.

He nodded, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “When I was a Padawan, Obi-Wan used to bring me here. It’s one of the few places on Coruscant where I could just… be myself. No Jedi Code, no missions. Just me. And I wanted to share that with you.”

Your heart swelled at his honesty. “Anakin,” you whispered, stepping closer, “I don’t care about fancy places. I care about you. If this place is special to you, then it’s special to me too.”

His grin lit up his face, the boyish charm that you adored shining through. “You really are incredible, you know that?”

The warmth of the diner wrapped around the two of you as you stepped inside. The air was filled with the aroma of sizzling food and the cheerful hum of patrons of all species chatting. The colorful decor and warm lighting gave it a welcoming, cozy feel—a stark contrast to the polished halls of the Senate you’re used to, but it felt... comforting. A droid server on wheels rolled up to your table as you two slid into a booth away from the windows.

“Welcome to Dex’s Diner! May I take your order?” The droid chirped, its metallic voice cheerful.

Anakin handed you the menu, but you didn’t even glance at it. “You choose for us,” you said with a bubbly smile. “I trust you.”

He smirked, handing the menu back to the droid. “Two orders of nuna drumsticks, a plate of fried tubers, and two blue milkshakes.”

“Coming right up!” The droid replied before wheeling off toward the kitchen.

As you both waited, the weight of your secret relationship and your respective duties melted away. Anakin leaned back, looking more at ease than you’d seen him in weeks. “This place has so many memories,” he began, his tone softer now. “Obi-Wan used to bring me here after tough missions. I remember one time I ate so much I could barely walk out the door.”

A laugh left your lips, picturing a younger Anakin with wide eyes and a bigger appetite. “I can’t imagine Obi-Wan approving of that.”

“He didn’t,” Anakin said with a chuckle. “But Dex just kept piling food on the table, saying, ‘The kid’s gotta eat!’”

Your laughter rang out, warm and bright, and Anakin found himself watching you with a look of pure adoration. The feelings he holds for you can be quite overwhelming for him at times, never knowing how to handle them. But in quiet moments such as these, he relishes in those feelings, utterly grateful for them. They bring him life—you bring him life. “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Your cheeks flushed a little, cocking your head to the side as you feel butterflies flutter in your stomach. “And you’re sweet when you’re not trying to be a show-off.” You reply, making him laugh.

When the food arrived, it was exactly what you expected—no-frills comfort food served on mismatched plates, steaming and fragrant, and you adored it. You couldn’t help but smile as Anakin eagerly dug in.

Anakin swallowed his bite and watched you nervously as you took your first bite, fidgeting with his fingers on the table.

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you savour the flavours, a warm smile appearing on your face. “It’s delicious, you were right,” you said, a content sigh leaving you, before your eyes opened again to look at him. “You know, I might just prefer this to some of the so-called ‘delicacies’ at the Senate.” You playfully rolled your eyes, giggling a little as you took another bite.

His relief was evident, a small breath of air he didn’t know he was holding in escaping him, and his features all relaxing as he grins at you. “I told you, Dex’s is the best.” 

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers together, bringing it up to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. “Thank you for bringing me here. I know how much it means to you.” You whisper softly, his eyes softening and his cheeks dusting a light pink at your actions. 

“I just wanted you to see this side of me,” he admitted, his thumb tracing small patterns into your soft skin. “Here, we don’t have to be a Jedi or a Senator. We can just be us.”

You squeezed his hand tenderly, your eyes shining with affection. “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

For the rest of the afternoon, you both shared stories, laughter, and the kind of quiet moments that felt stolen in a galaxy filled with chaos. You both weren’t a Jedi and a Senator navigating a galaxy at war. You were just a boy and a girl in love, letting the war, the Jedi Order, and the Senate fade away, leaving only two hearts intertwined.

And when you left Dex’s, hand in hand, the weight of your two’s responsibilities would return soon enough. But for now, you were free.

[valkyrieromanoff]

🕸️MOONLIT RIDE: ANAKIN X YOU (day 3 of 31)

synopsis: you and Anakin go on a speeder ride at night.

warning: fluffy, car accident but no hurt, idiots in love

words: 1.3k

 a/n: Hello there, Anakin is my favorite character, so expect a lot about himI hope you like it💖

ꜱᴜɴ'ꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴅᴀʏʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴀᴠɪɴɢꜱ 

ᴍɪxᴇᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴɢʀᴇɢᴀᴛɪɴɢ 

ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴜꜱ ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇꜱ 

ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ

“I don’t know if I believe Master Kenobi let you roam the streets of lower Coruscant unsupervised,” you teased, your voice low as you followed Anakin through the poorly lit alleys. The dim glow of flickering lanterns and neon signs cast long shadows across the narrow streets, where dark shapes darted in and out of view. The eerie Halloween decorations strung across the bars and stalls added an almost festive edge to the otherwise foreboding atmosphere.

You clung to the hem of Anakin’s Jedi cloak, the rush of people making it hard to keep pace. The bustling crowd was overwhelming, a constant flow of locals weaving through the streets, each moving with purpose, as if they were eager to disappear into the shadows. Hooded figures brushed past you, their cloaks billowing as they vanished into the maze of Coruscant's lower levels. It felt as though everyone here had something to hide, and perhaps they did. After all, the lower levels of the capital were infamous for harboring the galaxy’s most dangerous criminals—bounty hunters, assassins, and rogue separatists.

“Well, it is Halloween,” you whispered, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Maybe your wish to escape the Jedi Temple was granted.”

Anakin glanced back at you with an amused smirk, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. “I don’t need a wish. I’m a Jedi Knight now,” he replied confidently, though there was a hint of defensiveness in his tone, as if your comment about needing Obi-Wan’s approval still lingered.

As you rounded a corner, Anakin’s hand shot out to gently pull you in front of him, shielding you from a group of drunken Rodians stumbling out of a bar, their laughter echoing off the walls. You could hear the low hum of music spilling out of nearby clubs, mixed with the occasional cheer from patrons gathered around tables for late-night gambling.

“Walk like you’ve been here before,” Anakin whispered, his voice close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ll stand out otherwise.”

You shot him a sidelong glance but nodded, doing your best to mimic the hurried steps of the locals. Still, you couldn’t help but marvel at the lively chaos around you—the streets were alive with a strange mix of festive energy and danger. Jack-o'-lanterns carved with grotesque, glowing faces adorned the doorways of various establishments, and garlands of fake cobwebs hung from rooftops. Every now and then, a ghostly wisp of fog drifted across the streets, adding a haunting touch to the scene.

“How many times have you been here?” you asked curiously as you watched him toss some credits to a Zabrak at a speeder rental shop. “You seem… comfortable.”

Anakin shrugged, his fingers brushing through his unruly hair as he took his time choosing a speeder. “I’ve chased a criminal or two down here before,” he replied casually, his voice nonchalant, but there was a gleam in his eye. Finally, he settled on a sleek red speeder and gestured for you to climb in beside him.

“Sure,” you scoffed, raising an eyebrow as you settled into the seat. “Like you’re *only* down here for Jedi business.”

Before you could say more, Anakin gunned the engine, and the speeder shot forward with a burst of speed that left your stomach in knots. The night wind whipped through your hair, and the ground blurred beneath you as he weaved effortlessly through the crowded air lanes. Your fingers instinctively tightened around the edge of the seat as he made sharp turns, narrowly avoiding collisions with other speeders.

“You’re going to get us killed driving like this!” you shouted, your voice barely carrying over the roar of the engine. Anakin spun the speeder, flipping it upside down for a brief, stomach-dropping moment before righting it again. You let out a gasp, your heart racing as you clung to the door for dear life.

“Trust me, love,” Anakin teased, glancing at you with that infuriating smirk that made your pulse quicken for reasons that had nothing to do with fear. He barely avoided another speeder and shouted something in Huttese at the other driver, his hands expertly maneuvering the controls.

The smirk was wiped off his face when, in his haste, he lost control of the speeder, sending it careening into the side of a building. The crash was loud, the front of the speeder crumpling as it slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. Smoke billowed from the engine, and the once-sleek body of the vehicle was now a twisted wreck of metal.

“Kriffing, Anakin!” you gasped, your heart pounding in your chest as the smoke began to clear. You turned to find him grinning, completely unfazed by the crash. His amusement was contagious, and despite yourself, you found your fear melting into laughter.

“Look, on the bright side,” Anakin said, chuckling softly as he reached out to squeeze your shoulder. “I didn’t kill us.”

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured, shaking your head but unable to stop the smile from tugging at your lips.

“But you love me,” he retorted with a cheeky grin, his blue eyes sparkling as you playfully pushed his face away. He caught your hand mid-motion, bringing it to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to your palm, then another to your wrist. The tender gesture sent warmth spreading across your cheeks, and your breath hitched as he held your hand just a moment longer.

“What do we do now?” you asked, stepping out of the speeder to assess the damage. More than half of the bodywork was crushed, and the engine continued to sputter and smoke.

Anakin didn’t hesitate. “We run,” he said, grabbing your hand as the distant wail of Republic droid guards grew louder. The sirens were closing in, and you didn’t have time to wait. With his fingers laced through yours, the two of you took off, darting through the crowded streets. You moved in sync, your Jedi training kicking in as you expertly wove through the mass of people, disappearing into the shadows whenever necessary.

When you finally reached the Jedi Temple, both of you were breathless, your backs pressed against the cool stone walls as you tried to catch your breath. The night was quiet now, the bustling streets of lower Coruscant far behind you, though the faint glow of the Halloween decorations still lingered in your mind.

Without realizing it, you had inched closer to each other. Anakin’s arm slid over your shoulder, pinning you gently against the wall, his gaze intense as his deep blue eyes locked with yours. You could feel the heat between you, your chest rising and falling in time with his. His eyes dropped to your lips, and your tongue darted out to wet them, the anticipation palpable.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” Anakin murmured, his voice low and rough as his eyes flicked between your mouth and your eyes.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his words. “Would it be like a Halloween wish?”

Anakin chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Maybe. We could start our own tradition.”

The idea of a Halloween tradition made just for the two of you felt intimate, secretive in a way that only deepened the connection you already shared. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leaned in.

“Only ours,” he whispered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his lips brushed yours softly at first, testing. But the kiss quickly deepened, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, his mouth moving against yours with growing passion. His kiss was a perfect mix of fire and tenderness, making the world around you fade until there was nothing but him—his warmth, his touch, and the way your heart raced in sync with his.

[stormyblue90]

Fox hates Red.

Just a little something I wrote while bored at work based on @sleepingsun501 headcanon of Fox's favorite color. I hope you enjoy it!

Fox hates the color red.

Despite what most would think if they were to judge his armor, Commander Fox hates the color red.

If it were up to him, he'd paint his armor any other color, but alas Fox is forced to wear the color he despises.

Red is the color of his brothers' blood that spills onto the battlefields, in the medical bay, on the streets during civilian riots. A color of pain.

The robes of the despot he and his kin are enslaved to serve, are shades of red. Fox imagines the invisible strings he pulls would be red as well.

Fox was told the blades of the Sith, the enemy of the Jedi his brothers proudly fight alongside, are a burning red. Such a fiery red blade is what took his batch-mate, Wolffe's eye.

Red are the flames that burn on the battlefields, red was the dirt of that first battle on Geonosis, of the uniforms he and his brothers wore while trapped on Kamino, dreaming of other worlds and waiting to be deployed. Back when they were all so innocent and naive of the horrors that would await them.

When Fox wakes from unexplainable blackouts, with gaps in his memory, and injuries he doesn't remember suffering, red is the last thing he can remember seeing.

In Commander Fox's mind, red is the color of death. Red is the color of darkness, of pain, and suffering. He abhors the color he can only associate with evil and destruction.

Green however, Fox enjoys.

The opposite of red, a color he finds comfort in.

Naboo, Alderaan, Kashyyyk, lush planets filled with green, with life. Not the cold metallics and blinding neon lights of Coruscant.

Fox thinks he would enjoy visiting such lush planets someday. He'd love nothing more than to leave the artificial planet that has become his prison.

Green is the color of many a Jedi's blades. Of the old Grandmaster who told Fox's brothers they were unique individuals, and protected them. Who treated them with respect and kindness.

Should he and his brothers finally be freed, Fox will choose to fill his wardrobe with green, repaint his armor in shades of the color. He likes to think that were he ever to have a lover, perhaps their eyes would be green.

In Fox's mind, green is the color of life. Green is the color of growth, comfort, and protection. Fox loves the color he has come to associate with freedom, vitality, and hope.

When the titanic beast that the chancellor so foolishly brought to the planet, finally devours the man in red and calms its fury; Fox finds comfort when he looks into its eyes, and finds they glow a beautiful green.

[purehypnotic]

🪩 💿 look at what the light did now 💿 🪩

din djarin x reader

the origin of mando saying “wizard”, aka, what happens when din gives you the aux cord.

sfw, gender neutral

☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚

He’s not a taxi service.

He insists on this, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing straight between your eyes, while dragging you from your hiding spot. His grip on your forearm isn’t harsh enough to hurt, but you know you can’t wiggle your way out.

“How did you get in?” the Mandalorian drills and you release a full body sigh. You’d found yourself in a little situation back at the space port. A little predicament, you might say. A little tussle that needed a quick getaway, so you darted through the Coruscant spaceport and threw yourself into the belly of the first ship you saw. You planned to lay low and sneak out on the next stop, but apparently not much can get past this Mandalorian.

“I uh came in through there,” you lamely pointed at the hatch. His helmet followed your finger to the door and swiveled back, unimpressed. You’d successfully avoided his attention for two days before he’d glanced at the cargo container you tucked yourself behind. Now here you were, awkwardly trapped between the container and the tin man, ready to convince him to let you couch surf.

“It’s honestly a miracle that I hid for this long, thought I would’ve sneezed or something to give me away,” you attempted at a conversation.

Silence.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

Silence.

“Okay, alright, that’s fine. I really am sorry about sneaking in. I’ll stay out of the way or organize to make up for it,” you offered. His silence was starting to creep you out, but he squeezed your arm tighter and dragged you to the latter in the center of the hold.

“I’m not a taxi. You’re getting off in Nevarro. Stay in the cockpit where I can see you,” his clipped tone left no room to argue.

That was fine with you. Just dandy, actually, a real chair sounds pretty nice right now. The steel walls of the hold were hell on your back. As the Mandalorian stalks through the sliding doors and settles in the pilot’s chair, you stop in your tracks. You’d seen space only a couple times in your life, but hyperspace? The watercolor of starlight streaked past the windshield like neon rain, taking the breath right from your ribs. The dull thrum of lightspeed resonated through the cockpit, buzzing through your bones like an amplified bass. Glancing at the Mandalorian, you gasped. Soft blues and lilacs streaked across his reflective armor, haloing him, strangely beautiful, like an iridescent statue.

“Sit and buckle in; the Crest likes to stall,” he gestured to the seat at his right, not caring for your slack jaw. Was he not aware of the universe revealing all it had to offer in front of your faces? You took the copilot’s chair, but leaned your elbows on your knees to shift closer to the glass.

“Wizard,” you mumbled, stunned by the beauty of hyperspace.

“Wizard?” The Mandalorian deadpanned. What a killjoy.

“Space. It’s wizard,” you rolled your eyes. His wet blanket aura got in the way of your whimsy.

The Mandalorian puffed out an exhale that was a little stronger than the rest. Was that how he laughed? Is he serious? Is this what you were working with?

Giving up on entertainment from the buckethead, you reached into your pack for your earplugs and music player. A little archaic, but that was part of the charm. Fixing the little cushion into your left ear, you clicked at your vintage player and leaned back into the co-pilot’s chair as the intro to your favorite song started up. Sure, you were half-captive to a metal man with no name, but as you melted into the music with the gorgeous view of hyperspace, your situation didn’t seem so bad. It was almost peaceful.

“What is that?” The Mandalorian pressed.

Nevermind.

“Music, good music. You want some?” you offered the other earbud to the bounty hunter. He tilted his helmet in a way you were starting to suspect was how he showed emotion. He lifted one finger to point at the edge of his helm as if to say the earbud won’t fit. Awkward silence fell upon the two of you as you figured out a way to share your music with him.

“It’s alright. I’m sure you hear plenty of it while flying this thing,” you gestured to the control panel, happy that he’s at least communicating with you.

“I don’t,” Mando flatly confessed and you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Music isn’t big in my culture. Unless it’s a war chant or a song for the kids, we don’t sing,” he continued. Briefly, you felt some sort of understanding for him. Robotic and sterile as he seemed, there was a person with a culture and an upbringing beneath the beskar.

“Plug it into here,” the Mandalorian pointed to an audio jack with an auxiliary cord cleanly coiled underneath, as if never used.

“I’d like to hear some,” he said softly. You caught something secret in his tone, as if he was asking for something he shouldn’t be having. Was his culture so strict that he never learned to enjoy music? You had a hard time imagining the Mandalorian dancing or humming under his breath. Your time as an accidental stowaway would’ve been less tense if you caught him tapping his fingers to a tune he can’t get out of his head. Only, he’s never been granted the mundane freedom of music. Fidgeting with the aux cord, a little nervous to show him your tastes, you were giddy to share this with him. Here is a warrior, who was absolutely ready to manhandle you off his ship minutes ago, gently asking you to share your favorite songs with him. His curiosity was endearing, no matter how nonchalant he tried to seem.

As the melody of the first track twanged through the cockpit, the Mandalorian leaned forward in his seat, as if chasing the song for more. His helmet tilted to face the glow of hyperspace, and you guessed he was feeling the wonder you experienced in seeing the stars up close. You slouched in your seat once more, half doubtful of how the hell you upgraded from stowaway to personal DJ, but also entranced by the mystery of the bounty hunter before you. How was he so intimidating when he found you, but so careful, almost bashful, when asking to share your music? Why were you so willing to give him more?

Snapping out of your stupor as the song crescendoed, you realized the Mandalorian’s visor was already pinned on you. A shiver ran through you under his intense gaze, and your wide eyes blinked at your reflection in his shimmering Beskar.

“This is a beautiful song. It suits you,” he murmured lowly. You felt a triumphant smile spread across your face, oddly proud that you were putting him onto good music.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, shiny. Track six is gonna blow your mind,” you leaned an elbow on the console as he puffed out another breathy laugh.

-

True to his word, the Mandalorian dropped you off at the first spaceport he docked in. Without complaining or looking back (except maybe a couple glances), you hightailed it from the bounty hunter’s ship. While you ended up with a soft spot for the tin can, you didn’t want to push his patience and overstay your welcome. Admittedly, you wished you had spoken with him more, asked about his culture, or asked him for stories about the galaxy. Hell, you hadn’t even gotten a name.

As you perched under the veranda of a small restaurant, you fished through your pack to ensure all your belongings stayed inside. Digging between a thin blanket and an extra pair of socks, your fingers brushed by a cool, metallic object you didn’t recognize. Pulling out the pocket-sized cylinder, you turned it over in your hands as you unraveled a note coiled around it. The silver trinket was a commlink, you figured, and the note read:

“Let me know when I can hear that song again. It was wizard.” - Din Djarin.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚

theyre listening to champagne coast btw

with love, katie 💌

[dragonrider9905]

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

Night Gone (Not Totally) Wrong 

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

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

Celebrating You Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Try to run, I dare you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked you over and spotted the twisted ankle. 

“Oh, that looks like it hurts.” 

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

“The name's Wrecker.” 

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

“May I?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed hard and looked down. 

“But I–” 

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

You were silent for a bit before you spoke again. 

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

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

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

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

He looked at you curiously. 

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

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

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

The lift came to a jolting stop. 

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

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

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

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

“It’s simple, Wrecker, really —”

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

“Next street over.” 

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

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

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

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

“Is she ok?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The idea made you freeze. 

Never see them again? 

Never seeing Wrecker again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “You betcha I will!”

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

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

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

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

Divider by @djarrex and @vet-iv-er

[wistfulforstars]

For What It's Worth - Part 4

Rex x Reader

Summary: You wake up to someone special. A lot of feelings come out in the process.

Warnings: reader is afab, reader is hurt, language, discussions of violence, Rex tries and fails miserably to break up with you, mature sexual content in later chapters, minors: get out

Tag List: @bambiswriting @jessyhazy

If anyone would like to be added to the tag list, please comment below or message/ask directly.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

In hindsight, you wished your awakening was a little more gentle, a little more romantic. Mostly, you were just sore and bitchy and ready to fall back into the release of sleep. 

Ow-ow-fuckity-ow, I need water-I need the bathroom-I need my MEDS, cocksucking-motherhumping-OW!

It was the middle of the night, this you could tell from behind your still-closed eyelids. Your large window would be letting in a LOT more light otherwise. It was quiet for Coruscant, the traffic noises and ever present hum of neon seemed to have dampened for the moment. Or it could be the brain damage you reminded yourself. Pretty good concussion you’re sporting there, kid. You and that durasteel wall became very fast friends, didn’t you?

Clearly, you needed more sleep. But to do that, you needed your meds. And to take your meds, you needed to get to some water. Your bathroom wasn’t far, but you hadn’t stood up by yourself yet. Not that that mattered right now. You certainly weren’t going to wake up Tia at this hour, after all she’d done. It sounded like she was sleeping in the chair again, even after you had told her to go home and get some real rest. At least she was in a deep slumber, heavy breaths and a slight snore coming from that corner of the room. 

You sighed, and wrenched your weighty eyelids open. It took a moment to focus, having been asleep for so long. You stared at your ceiling, then looked to the left, where your bathroom lay, then to the right, trying to get your eyes moving a little. Tia sure was snoring up a storm tonight…

You inhaled sharply, irritating your broken ribs. Hissing, you stared, stunned, at the reclined figure in your grandmother’s chair. 

Rex. 

Your heart swelled for a moment, before sinking back into your chest. He’d come home, safe and sound…and you weren’t conscious to greet him. What’s worse, you weren’t awake to tell him the sorry-honey-I-got-into-a-little-trouble story yourself, and who knows what conclusions that brilliant man had reached on his own…

He had taken off his armor from the waist-up, his blacks showing off the lovely curve of his shoulders, the muscle of his arms. He leaned back, arms crossed, a slight frown marring his otherwise peaceful face. You wanted to go over there and see if you could wipe it from his features entirely.

Pain started to blossom behind your eyes, reminding you of your current task. Meds. Sleep. Talk to Rex in the morning. With more confidence than you really felt, you pulled back your covers and sat up straight. That hurt way more than you expected it to, a sharp pain blossoming up from your side. The bathroom was looking farther and farther away, but you were determined, and so you slowly swiveled your bruised and scraped legs, your swollen ankle sliding towards the edge of the mattress. Gritting your teeth to avoid waking your sleeping beauty in the corner, you gingerly placed your bare feet on the floor and prepared to push off the bed. One…two…three…

“And where do you think you’re going?”

You squeaked, falling fully back into the blankets, before clutching at your screaming ribs. “Sonuvabitch!”

Rex crossed the distance  between you in two perfect strides. He kneeled before you, hands flitting here and there, trying to find some place to steady you that wasn’t bruised or battered. “Careful, cyare,” he whispered.

You breathed through the pain, deep inhales as you went to grab his wrist, “Didn’t know…you were home.”

If he had any reaction to the referral of your apartment as home, he didn’t comment. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“Bathroom…meds…water.”

“Then you should have woken me,” he chastised, before you were swept up, gently as if you were made of glass, into his strong arms. 

“Rex!” you hissed, but surprisingly, your ribs didn’t twinge, your head didn’t spin. 

It took only a few steps to get to the bathroom. He hesitated at the toilet, before asking, “Can you stand by yourself?”

You shrugged, “You interrupted my first try.”

He nodded, brown eyes gentle. “Bear with me then, cyare. I’m going to help you with your pants and get you sat down, then I’m going to turn around, alright?”

“Oh…okay.”

He did just as he said he would, without fuss or complaint. His eyes and his hands didn’t linger, and the whole affair was much less awkward than you thought it would be. You were redressed and back in his arms in a matter of minutes. 

You carried the pill bottle and the water he had procured while Rex took you back to bed. Your heart thumped as you approached the mattress. How many times had he carried you to bed, under entirely different circumstances?

“Will you sleep in the bed with me?” you asked, your voice small.

“Not tonight. I don’t want to accidentally bump anything,” was his simple answer.

“Then move the chair closer? Please?”

He did, after he had you settled. And as tired as you had felt before, you couldn’t seem to wrench your eyes away from him to go back to sleep. His face was calm, far too calm for the situation. The light in his eyes seemed strained and fractured. But you knew what kind of man you had chosen, and he was too good, too chivalrous to bring up his inner turmoil while you were injured and bedridden.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t awake when you got back,” You met his eyes, but he turned away almost as soon as you did. His bare hands were trembling.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” his voice was raw, and showed more emotion than he probably intended.

“Still,” you insisted. “I always want to be the first to see you when you come home.”

There was that word again, home. You weren’t sure why you were feeling so bold tonight, but perhaps near-death experiences just did that for you. Perhaps that was how Rex got to be so brave.

You glanced at your side table, and smiled. Your lip twinged, “You brought me flowers again. Zeira’s?”

Rex seemed to start out of a daze. He glanced at the flowers as if he’d forgotten all about them, “Oh… yes.”

“Rex,” you called firmly. “Look at me. Talk to me.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes closed, “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you want me to tell you about it?

“No-” he started, then cut himself off. He pressed his lips together hard, and breathed. His eyes fell back open, searching yours, and you closed a hand around his shaking one. He nodded, “I want to know what happened. From you. But only if you want to. Only if you can.”

You gave him a small smile, nodded, and sighed, “I’ll get this out of the way first: Partway through it, I provoked them. On purpose. Half of these bruises wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t taunted them, if I’d just stayed quiet and let them go on their way. I think they were mainly drunk and immature and really hated my button collection, because they focused on that way more than they did on me, at least at first. But I…I wanted them to get caught. I used the comm line you gave me, to Fox, and I knew the corries were on their way. I wanted these little shits waiting for them. So, for your sake, I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I played fast and loose with my safety, my body, so the CG could catch them.”

Rex gazed at you, stunned, incomprehension in his eyes, “You Fives’d them.” He muttered, and he brought his other hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Force save me, you ran your mouth and took on the punishment to distract the enemy till backup arrived!”

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it,” you shrugged. “And I am sorry that you had to see me like this because of it. That wasn’t…all I wanted was for the corries to get there and take them away, so I could get back to you.”

He stopped pinching the bridge of his nose and scanned your face, his sharp soldier’s eyes filled with longing, “How…how did they get you in the first place? Did they follow you home or…?”

You gripped his hand as hard as you could with the brace on your arm, bolstering yourself against the memories, “They didn’t follow me, at least not that night. But it seemed like they might have seen me go into the hospital and were waiting for me to come out. It happened so…so fast, that it’s hard to think that they weren’t, I dunno, lurking.”

Your gaze had dropped to your lap as you told this part, but you knew he was horrified. You could feel the indignation, fear, and fury rolling off of him in slow, barely-controlled waves. But now that you’d started telling the story, you couldn’t stop. This was more than you’d told Fox during his interview, more than you’d told Tia any time she’d gently prompted. You had to finish, had to get it all out.

“They pulled me into the alley first, knocked my face against the wall. Said some shit to me I don’t remember. Took my backpack. One of them bent my arm backwards, and then…then it gets hazier. I’d pressed the button on my comm at that point. They just kept yelling at me and well, it pissed me off. These stupid little boys who couldn’t have been much older than teenagers were attacking a grown woman on the way home from work at a clinic, and who the hell were they to pull this kind of shit? And, well, you know how I get when I’m pissed,” you chuckled a little and grinned at your boyfriend, but he didn’t so much as crack a smile in return. 

“Anyway, I called them stupid little limpdick fuckers, or something equally ridiculous. Insulted their mothers for raising them, maybe. And before I knew it, the one holding my arm whirled me  around and backhanded me across the face.”

Rex took in a sharp breath, and you reached your hand out to touch his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. At your coaxing, his pinched-shut eyes opened, and you saw the tears lurking in their corners. He ever so gently reached out and held your wrist, turning his head to kiss your fingers, your palm. Little worshipful things against your scratched skin. The pressure at your wrist increased for just a moment, like he was finally losing control of himself, before those well-built walls snapped down into place. He held your hand to the side of his face, to his jaw, mirroring the bruise on your own, “Keep going,” he pleaded, eyes filled with something so hard and brittle it might break.

The words came fast and unbidden now as you gazed into his eyes, unable or unwilling to look away, “I reeled back and fell. As soon as I hit the ground they gave me two swift kicks to the ribs. I felt them break, but the pain didn’t register until later. I was so mad. I think one of them punched me in the face at one point, and that’s how I got two black eyes, the bastards. But mostly it was pushing me into walls and shoving me back onto the ground. I twisted my ankle pretty badly, and my hip took one hell of a check from the corner of a dumpster, but most of the bad damage was done already. They were running out of steam by then, maybe sobering up, and the corries arrived a few minutes later. I got two days in the hospital, and now I’m on two weeks of near-total bed rest which, honestly, is probably what I’m most irritated about.”

You breathed in and out, trying to steady yourself. You didn’t know what else to say, really. Your boyfriend was probably running your story over in his head, trying to find a reason, a why, but at this point, you didn’t really care to know. Assholes did asshole things, and while you weren’t happy with it, while you would have trouble sleeping for who knows how long, you had decided you were satisfied with the pile of charges Fox had gleefully dropped on your attackers’ heads. That, you figured, was enough. 

But Rex looked hollow, broken, haunted. Glassy-eyed and horror struck. And you weren’t totally sure how to make it better.

“Hey,” you called. “You’re far away, trooper. Come back to me.”

That laser-sharp intelligence snapped into place, and Rex went back to scrutinizing your face, searching, wondering, worrying.

 “Ner cyare,” He murmured. “You’re leaving something out.”

“What do you-”

“I talked to Fox. He has a theory.”

You wrinkled your face, “I heard Fox’s theory at the hospital. So they attacked me because they didn’t like my backpack-”

“It was because of me,” you’d never heard his voice this empty, this listless.

“Stop that, it was not because of you-”

But Rex had finally snapped. His anger, his worry, his sheer terror all came boiling up to the surface. “They attacked you because you showed support for clones!” he bared his teeth, dropped your hand. “You had a few buttons on a backpack, and you were almost killed for it! What if one of them had a blaster? What if they weren’t stupid kids, but actually part of the anti-clone movement, and they wanted to make a statement? What if they decided that a clone had touched you, so everyone else was allowed to as well?”

He stood, and started pacing back and forth. His hand reached for his holstered blaster, thumbing at the handle while he raged through your tiny bedroom. “Three pounds of shit in a two pound sack beat you to hell because you implied you might support clone rights. Can you imagine what could happen to you if someone actually found out that you were with a clone? That a filthy meat droid had laid his hands on you?!”

You flinched back, only a little. This was the first time Rex had ever raised his voice in front of you. But, ever the tough medic, your ire rose just as quickly, “Don’t you dare call yourself-”

“And why shouldn’t I?” he seethed, all guilt and fury. “It’s not inaccurate, cyare. I’m genetically engineered republic property that’ll probably be decommissioned as soon as the war is over. You can’t tell your family you’re seeing me. We can’t even go out to most public places. I own nothing, I am nothing-”

“You are mine!” you growled, surprising you both with your ferocity. You clutched your side, which was aching in time with your heart. Rex froze, but you barreled on. He needed to hear this, and you might waste away into nothing if he convinced himself to walk out that door. “My friend, my lover, my favorite person in the entire galaxy! The Republic can’t have you, and shriveled little dicksacs on the street can’t take me from you, and you sure as hell don’t get to call it quits because of some nonsensical martyr complex!”

“I’m not-”

“Can it, soldier,” you noticed how he stood up a little straighter at your tone, and stuffed down your sense of pride for now. You were done with this. He was being ridiculous, and it was hurting both your hearts. And your cracked ribs. You took a deep breath.

“I know you, Mister Upright and Noble Captain! I know how you operate!” tears started forming in your eyes now. “And you are not going to make us both miserable by leaving me for the sake of my safety! This isn’t some net melodrama, and the only way you get to deprive me of the best thing in my life is if I’m making you unhappy! Got it?”

Rex looked like he’d been hit upside the head. Clearly at a loss for words, whatever retort he’d been preparing was lost in the collection of babble spilling from his lips, “I…best thing…no, I can’t be…best thing… you could find someone-”

“You are the best thing in my life. I’m not finding someone else,” you recited firmly, raising your chin.

Rex placed his head in his hands, slumping heavily back into his chair. The fight had clearly left him for now. He shuddered as you reached out to him.

“I’m sorry, Rex, if this is hard, if my choices cause you too much stress on top of what you’re already forced to deal with,” you stroked his short shaved blonde hair. “But I choose you, and whatever else comes along with it. It’s clear to me now, that I need to be more careful, and I can adjust. But… if it’s too much, if the worry and the guilt isn’t worth it for you-”

He suddenly grabbed both of your hands again, bringing your knuckles to his lips. He let them sit there while he gazed into your eyes and mumbled, “It’s worth it. You’re worth it. But you have to understand, I’m not worth all-”

“Oooh, so close,” you shook your head. “But you do not get the reassuring your girlfriend points today. Try again without the self deprecation, please.”

He stared at you, and you swore there were moons and suns and planets in those eyes. All the things he’d seen, all the places he’d traveled. Rex looked unbearably tired. But he slowly sighed and nodded, kissing your knuckles again, “Alright…alright cyare. You’re worth it. You’re always worth it.”

“Full-stop? No caveats?”

“No caveats, ma’am.”

One of your tears finally slipped out of your eye and down your sensitive cheek, “Thank you.”

“But I never want to see something like this happen to you again,” he gestured to your bandage, your bruises. “I don’t think you understand what happened to my heart when I saw you lying there. It collapsed on itself, cyare, like a dying star. I won’t live through that a second time.”

Your eyes shone at his sweetness, his sincerity, and you couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up, “Got it. No more provocative buttons.”

“No more shitty job posts,” his jaw was set.

“But-”

“No buts, ner karta,” he shook his head. “I can compromise on some of the weird ones, but the seedy district clinics, with no security cameras and medics with suspended licenses-”

“Hey! We’re licensed!”

“Cyare.”

You sighed, “Fine. We’ll go through my usual assignments together, cut the worst ones from the rotation.”

Rex smiled, “Thank you. That means more than you will ever know.”

You grinned back, “I’m just happy you’re not leaving me.”

“That would be…very difficult,” he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

Your tone took on a teasing lilt, “Please,” you rolled your eyes. You took on a very poor imitation of his voice. “You could always find someone-”

“I was going to tell you I love you tonight.”

Your mouth fell open, and despite all the other confessions you’d given each other, you gazed up at your trooper with newfound awe. His eyes seemed…settled, certain for the first time since you woke up. He quirked up the corner of that gorgeous mouth in the half smile that first charmed you, all those months ago. 

He gestured to your nightstand, “That’s what the flowers were for.”

“Rex,” you breathed. “You’ve got to know by now. It’s been written all over my face for the longest time. I love you.” You hooked your good arm around his neck and pulled him forward, “I love you. I love you.”

The kiss was gentler than you would have liked, but you knew why. Rex was allowing you both this moment, but you could see from the way he inspected your jaw once he pulled away that you would not be getting anything more intense than a brush of the lips for a while. Sweet man, damn him. 

He helped you finally take your pain pills, and you were halfway unconscious by the time he laid you back on the pillows. That didn’t stop you from continuing the conversation.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I will.”

“Try to get some sleep. Take the couch if the chair gets uncomfortable.”

“Alright, ner karta.”

“And if you ever call yourself a filthy meat droid again-”

You weren’t sure what you would do if it came to that. You fell asleep before you could finish the thought.

[sadiecoocoo]

It's Growing On Me - The Bad Batch fic

trying something new with how I format these posts, lmk what you guys think :)

Also I thought abt it and this fic could count for the Summerofbadbatch prompt, “it’s not what you think” so yeah ig this is a summer of bad batch thing :) @summer-of-bad-batch

Relationships - Crosshair & Echo

Tags - Bonding, Fluff, Minor Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Humor, CT-9904 | Crosshair is Bad at Feelings, Protective CT-9904 | Crosshair, CT-9904 | Crosshair is a Little Shit, CT-9904 | Crosshair-centric, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo-centric, Soft CT-9904 | Crosshair, Hurt CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Clone Trooper Tech is a Little Shit (Star Wars), Hunter is So Done (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Mission Fic, Brotherly Bonding, Platonic Cuddling

Summary - Crosshair has a moment of realization after Echo humbles a reg that picked on the Batch. He tries his best to make up for the time he had been mean to Echo, and tries to treat him like a brother.

Or, Crosshair trying desperately to get mama Echo's approval.

Word Count - 10,647

Read on A03

The alleys of Coruscant never really got dark. There were neon signs everywhere that reflected off of puddles and windows. Most places were open all night and kept their lights on. Coruscant was a planet that never slept unless all its residents were hungover.

Sometimes Crosshair had trouble believing that Coruscant was the head of the Republic and Jedi. Spending time in the lower levels can make it suffocating to spend time above. All the senate buildings seemed bland after seeing all the shops and bars with their bright colors and lights that never dimmed.

Clone Force ninety-nine had only been to Coruscant so many times. They were always on some mission or would rather just stay on the Marauder. Crosshair never complained about that. The Marauder was quiet (most of the time), and Coruscant was noisy and obnoxious. Anyone could guess which he preferred a majority of the time.

However, He did enjoy this certain outing to sample a few of Coruscant’s bars. Echo seemed well versed in the area, being a reg and having the chance to spend time on leave. He gave them a multitude of good bar recommendations, though his favorite seemed to be 79’s. Crosshair couldn’t agree, there were too many regs there. He was surprised that a fight didn’t break out while they were there.

Of course, a fight did break out. It was just at a different bar, a very rugged one that looked out of place on Coruscant. For once, Crosshair hadn’t even been the one to start the fight. Instead, their newest member was the guilty suspect.

They were about to leave, Hunter and Tech barely being able to stand; they were so drunk. Crosshair was a little disappointed, having enjoyed the drinks he got at this particular bar. He and Wrecker both held their liquor better than The former two. Echo, unsurprisingly, didn’t drink that much. The reason being something about Tech not wanting the alcohol to possibly give him a setback in his recovery, that he was still too underweight to handle it all well. Of course, Tech didn’t stay coherent long enough to make sure Echo did as he was told, so that duty fell upon Hunter, then Crosshair once the sergeant succumbed to the drowsiness of the alcohol.

He had begrudgingly patted Echo on the shoulder, mumbling “that’s enough reg, Tech’ll kill you in the morning if you have anymore.” and the ARC trooper frowned and placed his glass on the table, sliding it instead to Wrecker, who gladly took it. It wasn’t long before the group decided to call it quits after that.

Wrecker was practically carrying Tech, with how much the splicer leaned on him, as they stumbled out of the bar. Hunter looked like he already had a headache forming, and Wrecker decided to take up the job of guiding their sergeant as well. Crosshair rolled his eyes as he shared a glance with Echo.

Both of them had started to get along better, but the ARC was still a reg. Crosshair would tolerate occasional glances and fighting beside him, but he doubted they’d be friends anytime soon. They certainly had been in a few arguments that turned physical soon enough.

Wrecker, with the added weight of his brothers and clumsiness from the several beers he had had, stumbled to the side and just barely caught himself from falling. He did, however, cause someone else to fall. Crosshair groaned as he noticed it was a reg. Because of course they would piss off a reg.

“Hey! Defect, watch it!” The clone snarled. He didn’t have any paint on his armor, neither did a majority of the group with him. Wrecker held up his hands placatingly, still trying to hold up Tech, who was practically dead to the world. Hunter seemed to compose himself slightly and listened in. Crosshair doubted the sergeant would be much help if a fight broke out, though.

“I-I didn’t mean to- ‘m sorry,” Wrecker mumbled in response. Crosshair let out a huff. He didn’t need to apologize to the jackass.

“Oh yeah- sure! It was an accident?” the clone drunkenly antagonized.

“It was!” Wrecker tried again. The bar had fallen fairly quiet around them, waiting to see if a real fight would break out. Crosshair looked at Echo again and saw an expression that looked angrier than any he had seen before. He quickly wondered who it was pointed at.

“Oh kark you!” The reg said, then threw a punch at Wrecker. The crowd cheered at the potential chance to start a fight and get some entertainment. Crosshair clenched his fists and readied himself to join in to defend his brother, who honestly hadn’t budged from the blow. Maybe Crosshair wanted to join more so to put the reg in his place than to actually keep Wrecker from getting hurt, as if he could get hurt by this guy.

Echo placed his scomp on Crosshair’s shoulder, holding him back slightly. The sharpshooter glared at the reg. Of course he would stop Cross from joining the fight, giving his old buddies an advantage.

Contrary to what Crosshair had expected, Echo went forward himself. Crosshair blinked as the ARC grabbed the reg by the back of his armor and pulled him away from Wrecker. The reg complained and yelled, but it did little to deter Echo.

“Damned shiny.” Echo muttered as he pulled to reg far enough away to… scold him? “He did nothing to personally offend you and you karking punch him?” Echo’s tone sounded dangerous, and even Crosshair felt a little sheepish. It reminded him of all the times he had heard Cody scold a younger looking reg for something.

“Yeah! I’ll punch him,” He raised his fist and reared back. “And I’ll punch you too-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his threat before he was sprawled out on the floor. Echo held one arm up, and his foot was on the reg’s back, successfully pinning him down. The crowd cheered again, some cringing at the blow. This time Wrecker and Hunter joined in on the cheering as well.

“Listen, kid.” Echo said, sounding very much like an order, “If you wanna prove you’re tough, go scrap some clankers. Leave my brothers alone. We’re all clones, we’re all fighting on the same side in the same war.” He reprimanded sternly. Crosshair felt almost in awe.

“Get your osik together.” He finished as he let go of the reg’s arm and stepped off of him. The reg sat up, but all the fight he had earlier seemed muted.

“Sir, yessir.” He mumbled. Crosshair heard a few chuckles in the background. Echo walked back to the Batch, patting Wrecker on his arm and deciding to shoulder some of Tech’s weight as well. Crosshair blinked at the ARC. That was not all what he had been expecting.

“Shiny?” Hunter asked. Echo let out a huff.

“Clones with unpainted armor, barely out of being cadets.” He explained, elbowing Hunter lightly with a grin. Crosshair listened quietly. He still felt as though he were in shock.

“I could have handled it…” Wrecker mumbled, though there wasn’t much anger to it. He sounded a little sad that he didn’t get to fight anyone. Crosshair couldn’t blame him, he did kind of wish that Echo hadn’t stepped in, only so he could have stepped in. Even so, he was still a bit amazed at Echo for standing up for them. He hadn’t expected it at all.

“Of course, big guy!” Echo responded, “I just didn’t want a fight to break out. We’re tired and drunk.” He explained with an understanding smile. Wrecker laughed, patting Echo on the back, making the ARC trooper stumble.

Crosshair trailed behind as they continued towards the hotel they had been provided for their leave (They would have just had to stay in the barracks, but Crosshair may or may not have gotten into a small scuffle with a few of the regs on their first night). He either kept his eyes trained to the ground or on his brothers’ backs. He worried his bottom lip, wishing he had brought a few toothpicks with him. The sharpshooter almost didn’t notice Echo start to slow to match his pace.

“You alright?” He asked quietly, trying not to let the others hear. Crosshair, seeing Hunter turn his head slightly back towards the two, knew that it only partially worked.

“Yeah.” He replied curtly. Crosshair looked back towards the ground to avoid Echo’s worried gaze. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.” He drawled. Echo let out a good spirited huff.

“‘Course not.” He said mirthfully. They fell into silence. Crosshair expected the ARC to catch back up with the others. It became apparent that he had no plans to do so once the hotel was in view and Echo was still walking next to him.

When they made it back up to their room, the majority of them collapsed on their beds. Echo went to the ‘fresher immediately, and the water started to run soon after. Crosshair sat heavily on his own bed, Tech having already been laid out next to him so he could sleep.

He ran a hand down his face and let out a sigh. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he felt a strong guilt. He had treated Echo poorly compared to how he treated the others, having expected him to be like any other reg. The ARC had made it apparent that he really was different.

He knew Wrecker had practically forgotten that Echo was a reg, having grown attached only hours after Echo had joined their squad. Hunter’s heart bled for any stray, and he was clearly protective of the new addition to the Batch. Tech found in Echo a new pair of ears to listen to his ramblings, and even sometimes understand what he said. Crosshair… Crosshair had tolerated his presence.

Crosshair had certainly indulged in sharing teasing glances as the two found humor in something one of the others did. He had listened to some of Echo’s vents, though they had been spoken to Hunter in the middle of the night and not him. But he also held low expectations of Echo. He had honest to Maker expected him to join on any regs’ sides if there was a fight. He had been ready to hear some complaints about them being defective. He had expected him to not care as much about them while on the field.

He had been cruel in that. Crosshair fumbled for one of his toothpicks and stuck it in between his teeth, chewing on the wood as he thought. It wasn’t something he felt he needed to be redeemed for. It was just something he wanted to do a bit better on.

He stripped off his armor to get comfy in his blacks. Crosshair laid back against the pillow, opting to shower in the morning. Tech had already snuggled up to him seconds after he got under the covers.

The door to the ‘fresher opened and an arc of light flooded the room. Echo left the door cracked, giving the Batch a small night-light as they slept. Crosshair watched silently as Echo’s figure walked over to his and Hunter’s bed and plopped down next to the sergeant.

Hunter had an arm covering his eyes and he peeked out to look at the ARC as the bed creaked. Echo handed something to Hunter, probably medicine for the approaching headache, and the tracker mumbled a sleepy “thanks.”

There was a pop and a hiss as Echo removed his headpiece, the familiar sound indicating that Echo was about to sleep like the rest of them. He put in his hearing aids so he could actually hear in case anyone needed anything. Crosshair heard the ruffling of covers before it settled.

He let out another soft sigh. He would do better for the reg. Nothing too crazy, just better.

Echo groaned when he woke up. His head throbbed. He really wished he hadn’t drinken that much. At least he felt somewhat clean, though sleeping ruined that. He turned in the bed to try and get comfy again, hoping that he could sleep just a little longer.

“Echo,” There went that plan. “We’ve gotta leave in two hours.” Hunter informed him. He cursed the Batch’s need on the field. If they worked so well, why not make more special ops teams like them? It’d be nice to have a break that lasted more than three days for once.

“Well that leaves me ‘n hour to sleep.” He mumbled, face pushed against the pillow. His eyes felt heavy and all he wanted was an actual good night’s sleep. He had tossed and turned all night, finding it impossible to get comfy enough to lay still. Hunter had elbowed him multiple times for it. He couldn’t help that all his prosthetics were uncomfortable as shit when he was trying to sleep. And there was no way he’d sleep without them unless he was on the Marauder, he’d be too vulnerable.

“That is incorrect.” Tech stated, “It usually takes you an hour and a half to get ready after we’ve been on leave, since you spend more time than needed drinking caf.” He explained. Echo let out a rough sigh.

“Why d’you know that?” He grumbled loudly.

“I thought it might be useful.” Tech stated simply. Echo knew he was doing one of his annoying, yet somewhat cute, shrugs when he thought something was obvious when to literally anyone else it wasn’t.

He groaned again when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open to see Crosshair standing above him. His gaze turned to the mug in his hands.

“Made you some caf.” He said, almost sheepishly, if Echo didn’t know any better.

With a sigh of defeat he sat up and took the mug. He nodded and smiled at Crosshair. Being woken up sucked, but getting some decent caf out of it was somewhat worth it. Crosshair nodded back, clearing his throat, then went in the refresher to get ready to leave.

Echo let the warmth of the mug warm his hand before drinking any of it. Eyes still half-lidded, he took a meager sip and smiled a bit brighter at the taste. It was sweet enough for him to enjoy it.

“Well that was strange.” Tech pointed out. Echo looked up to see Hunter and Wrecker both nodding in agreement. He let out a confused hum.

Tech opened his mouth to give a long-winded explanation, but Hunter cut him off. “It’s nothing.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. Tech frowned and shared a glance with Wrecker. Echo shrugged and continued enjoying his caf.

His headache had started to ebb by the time Crosshair left the ‘fresher. He rubbed his neck to work out a crick, hearing a satisfying pop. It got rid of a bit of the soreness, helping more with his headache.

Echo covered his mouth as he yawned, then finally got out of his bed. He placed the now empty mug on the bedside table, then placed his hearing aids beside them. The world quieted before he had the chance to put on his headset. Any movement could no longer be heard; though he saw Hunter rummaging through his pack, the shuffling was muted.

He replaced the hearing aids with his headset and released a breath. He hated how vulnerable he could be without even one of his cybernetics. There wasn’t much he could do about it, he was lucky enough for Tech to have upgraded them so he could feel fairly normal with them on.

“Feeling alright, Echo?” Hunter asked. The ARC turned to the sergeant, meeting his worried gaze with his own tired one.

“Yeah. Just a headache, it’ll pass.” He waved it off. He smiled at Hunter, who seemed pleased with his answer. He yawned again and stretched before getting up. He started packing up his stuff, a task that wouldn’t take longer than a few minutes.

His shoulders slumped as he checked and realized, unsurprisingly, Tech was right about his morning routine. He looked over his shoulder to see Tech’s smug expression. Echo fixed the splicer with an unimpressed glare, then stuck his tongue out playfully.

He shouldered his bag, stubbornly refusing to let Wrecker carry it, then waited at the door for the others to get finished up. Crosshair approached and stood beside him quietly. He looked like he had something on his mind, but Echo knew the sniper wouldn’t utter a word about it until he wanted to.

“I can carry that,” Crosshair pointed to his bag. Echo blinked, looking from the bag on his shoulder to Crosshair. He let out a light chuckle before answering.

“I got it, thank you though.” He insisted, similarly to how he always answered Wrecker’s offering. He hated how much they all coddled him sometimes. Though, it came in pretty handy often enough for him to never bother saying anything. He knew that if he needed help with something, a break, or a bit of quiet, any of them would help him to their best abilities.

Crosshair nodded wordlessly, then leaned against the wall. He had a toothpick in his mouth, as usual, and was moving it from one side to the other. It was something he usually did when he was nervous or worried. Echo rolled his eyes subtly.

“You doing okay?” He asked carefully. The sharpshooter glanced at him, then to the ground.

“Fine.” He muttered quietly. Maybe Tech had been on to something when he commented on how weird Cross was acting. Echo shook the thought away, everyone has their days.

“All right, let’s head out boys.” Hunter said once had finished packing their stuff (there wasn’t much to pack, but still). They all followed the sergeant out of the room and towards the lobby. Echo waved politely to the lady working the front desk as they all passed.

“Can we get something to eat?” Wrecker asked hopefully. Hunter let out an obvious sigh.

“We have to be on Ryloth in a few days, it’s a long trip.” He said, trying to reasonably turn it down. Echo pursed his lips. Wrecker released a loud ‘awwww!’

“I can head into town and get some snacks while you all prep the ship.” Echo offered, pointing down the crowded street. Wrecker’s face brightened and Hunter mulled it over.

“Alright, but be quick.” He relented. Echo and Wrecker both smiled brightly.

“Sweet or salty, big guy?”

“Both!” he replied excitedly.

“On it.” Echo saluted with his scomp arm, then hoisted the bag off his shoulders for Wrecker to carry. He went down the street in a rushed gait, not exactly running, but he looked like he had places to be.

He turned a corner and continued down the street until he came upon a familiar store. A small smile spread across his lips as he pushed the door open. The smell of chocolate and salt made his nose sting, but he ignored it. He started down to the corner of the store, waving a small greeting to the familiar cashier.

Hardcase had shown this place to him and Fives when they were on their first leave. Fives had practically bought out the store with all the credits Rex gave them while they were on leave. They had taken several bags of sweets aboard the Resolute and stashed it for later… until Rex found it and got onto them for having contraband, or rather, for not sharing it.

It became a small tradition for Echo, Fives, and anyone else they could convince to visit this place. The store owner had gotten to the point where he could recognize the two in a crowd of clones. Echo grabbed a small wrapped bag of salted caramel filled truffles.

He remembered the place fondly, but it got difficult to not tear up being in here. He had always had a brother beside him when he walked through those doors. He swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on his mission.

Echo picked up a few other things, something that each of them would like, plus a few extra things for himself (that Wrecker would most likely steal). Then, he walked up to the counter and paid for the treats.

“Echo,” The shop owner, an older Togruta, greeted solemnly. Echo tried to smile while he looked over his pale and skinny form. His eyes lingered on the scomp arm and headset. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah,” Echo said with a laugh, “A lot happened.” He placed everything on the counter and talked while Umata rung everything up.

“I was sorry to hear about Fives, and to hear about you, so long ago.” a bit of grief flooded his tone. Echo smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry you lost a bit of business without us!” He joked lightheartedly, not feeling up for heart-to-hearts.

“Oh, I’ve always got someone around.” Echo was grateful that he understood. The war had made it so just about everyone lost someone. Umata had lost many people before he made it to Coruscant, Echo and Fives had been given all the stories of his travels when they had time to talk.

“Glad to hear it, I don't know what I’d do if I’d come back and this place wasn’t here.” Umata handed him the bag, and Echo tried to hand him the credits. Umata held up his hand in refusal.

“Please, on the house.” Echo opened his mouth to protest, “as a welcome home gift.” Umata insisted. Echo shook his head with a sigh. He pocketed the credits and instead shook Umata’s hand.

“It’s good to have you back, Echo.” Umata said as Echo started to turn to leave.

“Good to be back.” Echo replied with a smile, this time more genuine. He left without another word, feeling Umata’s worried gaze on his back.

When he turned to head back towards the Marauder, he nearly lept out of his skin. Crosshair stood leaned against the wall, very close to the door. Echo released a breath and blinked at the sharpshooter.

“Hey?” He said awkwardly. Crosshair looked up at him, having rested his eyes for a moment.

“Hunter wanted me to tell you to hurry.” Crosshair muttered. Echo let out a huff. Hunter had certainly sugar coated it more than that. He patted Crosshair on the shoulder with his scomp and headed back towards the Marauder. Crosshair was hot on his heels.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, passing several groups of people. Crosshair stopped dead in his tracks at some point. Echo turned curiously to the sharpshooter.

“What did you just say?” Crosshair grabbed the arm of a civvie to stop them from leaving. Echo blinked at the strange exchange and his brow furrowed.

“What does it matter to you, clone?” the civvie snarled. He was a weequay, probably a bounty hunter or pirate, by how scuffed up he already looked.

“Answer the damn question.” Crosshair ordered threateningly.

“Cross-” Echo tried.

“I called him a damned meat-droid! That’s what he is, can’t be pissed ‘bout that.” The weequay defended. Echo’s shoulders slumped and he breathed heavily through his nose. Crosshair’s nose scrunched in anger and disgust.

“You sleemo!” Before Echo got the chance to step in, Crosshair had grabbed the man by his shirt and pinned him against the wall. He didn’t seem very confident anymore, his hands raised in surrender. Crosshair reared back to punch the man.

“Crosshair!” Echo hissed, grabbing his elbow to stop him from attacking the guy. “Drop it.” he ordered once the sharpshooter looked at him. Crosshair studied him silently, then, literally, dropped it. The man fell to the ground with a grunt.

Crosshair glared at Echo for a moment, then shouldered past him. Echo regained a bit of his composure and glanced down at the man. He didn’t bother apologizing, he knew the guy didn’t deserve it.

He followed Crosshair with a similar scowl on his face.

Hunter didn’t know when it started, or why, but he knew it was weird. Crosshair, the person who, up until now, liked Echo the least, was acting like he couldn’t stand two minutes away from him. Everyone else, except somehow Echo, noticed it too.

Tech was the first to comment on it, and they all seemed to have the epiphany then. Echo was still too tired to even notice it. Crosshair had made Echo caf. He never made anyone caf unless he lost a bet. Hunter would know, he tried several times to convince him to make him some when he had a migraine.

Then, he started to hover around Echo. Right before they left the hotel, he seemed oddly close to the ARC trooper. It wasn’t really a big deal, it was just different from his usual behavior. Sometimes Crosshair acted like he couldn’t stand Echo’s presence, and sometimes they got along okay, but the sharpshooter never actively looked for Echo.

He even offered to go get Echo when they were about to leave. Hunter was more worried about the two looking pissed when they got back than the action alone. He wondered if maybe Crosshair was starting to get on Echo’s nerves, and the ARC had snapped.

Even so, they were all greatly distracted from the sweets Echo had brought back. Wrecker made a ruckus as he cheered, almost knocking over Gonky as the droid passed. Tech and Hunter were both pleased with the treats, but weren’t quite as excited.

Once the group was in hyperspace, Hunter left the cockpit to go mitigate things. If Echo and Crosshair were having issues, he didn’t want them to get in the way of the mission. Apparently some karked up shit was happening on Ryloth, the seppies were adamant about taking the planet. That only meant bad news and he didn’t need his squad shooting at each other more than the droids.

Echo was on his bunk (technically it was Wrecker’s, but they cycled out since they had a new addition to the squad), leaning back with his arms crossed and eyes closed. Hunter was sometimes worried with how often he slept, but Tech assured him that it was just because of his recovery and it wasn’t anything to worry about. Crosshair was sitting on the chair near the console, cleaning a part of his firepuncher. The other parts were strewn about the small counter in front of the screen.

Hunter sat down next to Echo, shaking the bed as he did so. The ARC trooper peeked an eye open, then sighed as he met Hunter’s eyes. He adjusted his position and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Hunter looked over to Crosshair, whose attention was now on the two. Hunter lifted a brow, and Cross scoffed. He placed the part he had been cleaning next to the rest. He rested his head in his palm and leaned his elbow on the counter.

“Okay, what’s going on between you two?” Hunter asked, getting to the point. Echo looked at Hunter with an unreadable expression, and Crosshair rolled his eyes in an exasperated manner.

“Nothing?” Echo replied confusedly. He looked over to Crosshair, who only shrugged. “We’re acting… normal?” Hunter sighed.

“No, you’re acting normal,” He pointed to the ARC’s chest, “he’s acting weird.” he jammed his thumb in Crosshair’s direction. Echo looked at the sharpshooter, blinked for a moment, then shrugged.

“We just got into a small fight with a civvie.” Crosshair muttered.

“You got into a small fight with a civvie.” Echo corrected with a scoff. Crosshair glared at him, but Hunter didn’t see any real anger behind it, at least none directed towards Echo.

“He called you a meat-droid?!” Crosshair retaliated. Hunter’s eyes widened and he turned to Echo. The ARC looked unimpressed.

“Crosshair,” He replied, a bit of humor in his tone, “I appreciate you defending me, I really do, but just about every clone gets called a meat-droid, I’m just a bit more droid than others.” Echo played it off with a shrug.

“I don’t put up with people calling any of them names, I’m not gonna put up with anyone calling you names.” Crosshair continued, unwilling to let the matter drop.

“And I appreciate that, but it’s really okay.”

“Okay?! Are you serious-”

“Okay that’s enough!” Hunter interrupted sternly. The two looked guiltily over to him. He released a rough sigh and shook his head. “Just, both of you, please don’t get distracted on the mission.” He urged. Echo nodded and Crosshair scoffed.

“‘Course, Sarge.” Echo said, almost spitefully. The ARC had always seemed to get offended at the notion that he could be the one screwing up a mission. Hunter couldn’t blame him for it, he had a lot going on in his head and a desperate need to prove himself useful.

“We’ll be at Ryloth in about a day,” He informed them, changing the subject. The two clones nodded silently, content with ending the discussion. Hunter got up, leaving the two to sort out things on their own, and headed back to the cockpit. He plopped down in the copilot’s seat, usually Echo’s spot whenever he was in the cockpit, and released a heavy sigh.

“That went well.” Tech announced sarcastically. Hunter dragged a hand down his face as he groaned. There was always something.

“About as well as a bantha in a pod race.” Hunter mumbled back. Tech let out a humored hum in response.

“Perhaps Crosshair is finally warming up to Echo.” Tech suggested, trying to grasp an answer. Hunter shrugged, slouching further in the seat.

“Maybe, but why so suddenly?” He responded. “Last night He looked just about ready to punch Echo when the fight broke out.” Tech hummed again at that. The room was filled with silence, aside from the beeping of the navi computer as Tech keyed in the coordinates to Ryloth, as the two thought.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” Tech concluded with a shrug. Hunter arched a brow, “ As long as they’re getting along and no one is getting distracted on missions, like your previous worry, then nothing bad can come of it.” He explained. Hunter blinked at him for a moment.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He agreed. He crossed his arms and propped his feet on the console. Tech swatted them off immediately and Hunter rolled his eyes playfully.

The mission went terribly. There was always something that went wrong, Echo had learned that quickly. Usually, though, the Batch could easily remedy it and come up with a new plan. Sadly, he wasn’t very conscious for that to happen.

The mission was meant to be a simple infiltration and data retrieval. There was a new separatist base found that was suspected to hold vital information for the Rylothian rebellion. Commander Ponds’ battalion was still being stationed on Ryloth, despite General Windu going back to Coruscant. Echo had been hoping to see Cody again, but the 212th were sent elsewhere.

The mission consisted of most of Clone Force 99 sneaking into the base through the vent system, while Wrecker snuck around outside and planted a chain of detonators set on a timer. Echo and Tech would take charge of the data retrieval, though Echo would be doing most of the searching while Tech would do his best to annoy the shit out of the separatists and screw with all their systems. Hunter and Crosshair would stand guard and cover them if any patrols passed by.

Echo was currently crouched in front of a terminal, his scomp inserted into the port and whirring quietly as his mind processed the code and files being given to him. His eyes held the familiar glassy look as his vision darkened.

He could hear Hunter asking Tech for an update on their progress, though it sounded very muffled. The splicer placed a hand on Echo’s shoulder to rouse him slightly. He blinked away the code for a moment and glanced at the Sergeant.

“Few more minutes,” He mumbled before focusing back on finding the data. There were so many useless files, Echo wasn’t sure how even the separatist generals found what they were looking for. He supposed it was somewhat smart, making it far more difficult for anyone to steal the files without being caught.

“Hurry it up.” Hunter urged stressfully. He must have heard a patrol of clankers approaching. Echo started skimming through the files faster, looking for anything that might jump out at him.

He felt the edges of another headache approaching as his eyes started to water from the strain. He tended to forget to blink when sifting through code. It was another habit Tech had been trying to help him break.

A lot of unhealthy things tended to happen when he was scomped in. If he was connected for too long he might think in code for the next few hours, he wasn’t even sure how it was possible, he just knew it gave him a miserable headache. Sometimes he would get a nosebleed, Tech had explained that mental strain can do that sometimes. Most of the time he had a dizzy spell, though he could work through those in the heat of battle, it was when the adrenaline wore off that he felt the urge to collapse. Almost every time he was connected for more than half an hour, the next day would be spent sleeping or suffering through a headache.

Despite all of the downsides, he was grateful for having the unique ability. It made him feel useful. It made him feel needed. It was probably the only thing keeping him from decommissioning.

A file finally stood out to him, “found something!” He informed them. He started the download, feeling a spike in his headache as the information rushed in. He read it as it loaded, looking over the battle plans and schematics. This would be very useful, and made the after effects of scomping in more than worth it.

Echo flinched as he heard blaster fire in the background. He looked up towards the door to see Cross and Hunter firing into the hallway. He blinked some of the code away and took in the sight of a large patrol of droids quickly approaching.

“Go help, I’ve got things covered here.” He told Tech. he only hesitated a moment before nodding quickly and unholstering his blaster. Tech ran over to the door and joined in the fray.

Echo focused back on the download, ninety-eight percent completed. He released a breath knowing that his headache really would be worth it. He felt a triumphant ping in his brain, as if his circuitry was celebrating the completed download, as the entirety of the file was finally downloaded. He started the process to disconnect his scomp.

“Echo! Disconnect now!” Crosshair yelled urgently. Echo started to ask what had happened, and say that he was already working on it, but a loud blaring sounded in his head. He yelled as error warnings filled his vision and he moved his other hand to press into his skull tightly, as if the pressure would relieve some of the pain.

“Echo!” the sharpshooter yelled again as Echo fell limp after his body seized. An electronic pulse, like on Anaxes, his mind supplied him before it fell dark.

“Echo!” Crosshair yelled as the ARC trooper fell limp. He broke off from the attack, rushing to the fallen trooper. He crouched down and propped Echo up, lifting his head to press his fingers to his pulse point.

“Wrecker get in here! We need backup!” Hunter ordered over the comms. Crosshair’s shoulders sagged as he felt the steady pulse under his fingers. He settled Echo’s head down, then turned his attention to the ARC’s scomp arm, still inserted in the port. Crosshair extracted it carefully, thankfully it gave way easily.

“I’ve got the reg,” Crosshair announced, “he’s unconscious but otherwise okay.” He reassured them all. Crosshair turned back towards the hallway, firing above his brothers at the droids. He didn’t leave where he was guarding Echo’s unconscious form.

He wished he had caught it sooner, the way that one droid seemed to peek around them and turn to its comm afterwards. He had still quickly picked up on what was about to happen, but he wasn’t quick enough. And now the reg was going to be deadweight.

It wasn’t long before the tell tale sound of droids screaming and metal smashing came down the hall. Soon, Wrecker had broken through and made it to the others. Crosshair kept an eye on the hallway as the bruiser quickly scooped Echo up in his arms

“Thanks, Wreck.” Hunter said, patting him on the arm. “Let’s get moving.” He announced, throwing his hand forward to motion for the group to get going. They all fell in line and they rushed down the hallway that was previously filled with battle droids. Crosshair kept his eyes on Echo while also watching the group’s back.

Several more patrols met the group as they went, though they were taken out quickly. Crosshair threw mirrors on the walls in preparation for the patrol that would likely follow them from behind. He almost felt a twinge of guilt for inevitably beating Wrecker again.

“What happened to Echo?” Wrecker asked after a long time without meeting another patrol. Hunter was at the front and peeking around a corner. Even if the mission had turned sour, they could still try to sneak past some of the droids.

“An electronic pulse was triggered while he was still connected to the systems.” Tech supplied. At Wrecker’s worried gaze he corrected, “It only did as much damage as a stun would, he will be fine.”

Crosshair would never openly admit it, but he was glad for the clear up as well. Wrecker sagged in relief and adjusted Echo to support his head better. Crosshair frowned as Echo’s arm fell and hung limply. He silently moved to adjust the limb, placing it on Echo’s chest.

“What?” He asked indignantly after Wrecker stared at him. The brute shrugged in response, then seemed to share a glance with Tech. The splicer also shrugged with a shake of his head. Crosshair felt like they were having a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be a part of. He scowled behind his helmet.

“Come on.” Hunter said after he had decided the area was clear. The group rushed out from the corner and continued through the base. They were getting closer to the exit, and it wouldn’t be long before they made it to the Marauder. He would be happy to get off of this planet.

Soon enough, they had made it out of the base and were in the forest. Hunter signaled for Wrecker to detonate the charges, and the base went up in flames seconds later. The ground shook as the base blew, and Crosshair resisted the urge to look back and admire the carnage.

They piled into the Marauder, Tech and Hunter heading to the cockpit while Wrecker and Crosshair got Echo settled in a bunk. Crosshair cleared off the mess of pillows and blankets on Wrecker’s bunk, much to the brute’s complaint. Crosshair doubted Echo needed a nest right now, he might feel pinned when he woke up.

Wrecker set the ARC down gently, propping his head up against a pillow. Crosshair frowned as the reg still didn’t stir. That must have been one hell of a stun. Maybe Tech did need to make sure Echo’s metal bits were working right.

The ship jostled as it left the atmosphere. Crosshair released a long breath through his nose as he allowed himself to relax. He plopped down on Hunter’s bunk, across from Wrecker’s, and currently Echo’s.

Soon, he felt the ship make the jump into hyperspace. Tech and Hunter both came out of the cockpit and gathered around the other two conscious troopers. Crosshair didn’t make eye contact, instead opting to watch as the reg’s chest rose and fell silently with every breath. At least he didn’t look like he was hurt.

“How long d’you think he’ll be asleep?” Wrecker asked, trying to whisper. Hunter leaned against the ladder to the bunk above Crosshair as he looked at Tech for an answer. The splicer already had his face buried in a datapad and held a medical scanner in his other hand.

“Hopefully not long.” He replied, “On Anaxes it took him about a half hour to regain consciousness, though it might take longer depending on how big of a pulse he was hit with.” he explained. Tech waved the medical scanner up and down Echo’s form. It made a small beep as it picked up something, Tech let out a small hum.

“What?” Hunter asked.

“A few of his systems were damaged.” Tech stated. All the others tensed and looked at Tech sharply for a better explanation. “Just his headpiece, which functioned as a databank, pain reliever for headaches, and a more advanced hearing aid than the ones he used before.”

“So he’s going to feel like shit when he wakes up.” Crosshair surmises. He slouched, once again feeling a small wave of guilt for not being fast enough. At least he knew Echo wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. That was a small comfort.

Either way, he would just have to make it up to him.

Several hours later, Echo woke up with a groan and a splitting headache. The weight of his headpiece was missing, and he couldn’t feel his hearing aids either. The absence of noise was overwhelming, and he had to fill his senses with sight to block out his panic. He blearily opened his eyes to look around the Marauder’s cabin.

The cabin was dark, and the small digital clock on one of their supply crates (they still hadn’t figured out the best spot to put it) showed that it was well into the night cycle. The green aurebesh numbers blinked on the small device before changing to the next minute.

His headpiece was on the workbench, with cables and wires connected. Tech sat there, his face buried in his arms and resting on the small desk. He still had a small tool in his hand that was pressed against one of the screws on Echo’s headpiece.

Echo shifted slightly, trying to ignore the ringing that was starting to grow in his ears. Something tapped his knee, and he jumped. His eyes darted towards the person sitting on the end of his bunk, their face shadowed by the bunk above.

He blinked at the scowling sniper. His arms were crossed and he leaned against the wall, he was sitting on Echo’s legs. His legs were propped up against another supply crate. His lips moved as he said something, though Echo couldn’t hear it.

“What?” he rasped out, his throat sore. He felt the reverberations in his throat and could only hope that he had made himself audible to the sniper. Crosshair pressed his lips into a thin line and looked towards Tech’s sleeping form.

Echo blinked at him expectantly when Crosshair looked back towards the ARC. He saw Crosshair’s shoulders sag with a sigh as he held his hands up to sign something. The Batch used a modified version of ARC signals that took Echo some time to adjust to, but with his hearing less than reliable in moments like these, it was well worth the frustration.

Sorry. Was all the sniper signed before he let his hands drop into his lap. Echo’s brow furrowed as he waited for some kind of clarification. When he was given nothing of the sort, he let his head plop back down onto the pillow.

“My hearing aids?” he asked, looking at Crosshair out of the corner of his eye. The sniper blinked at him, before signing a quick where? Echo pursed his lips as he thought of the last place he put them.

“Never unpacked them.” He concluded with a shrug. He nodded towards his pack, still sitting abandoned on the floor, that he had used on their shore leave.

The weight on his legs lifted as Crosshair got up and started rummaging through the pack. He pulled out a bag of the sweets Echo had gotten before and fixed him with a smug look and arched brow. Echo rolled his eyes as he watched Crosshair pocket the bag. As long as he still got his cut, he wouldn’t mind sharing with the sniper.

Soon enough, after practically taking everything else out of his pack, Crosshair found his hearing aids. He placed them in Echo’s hand, who then set them in his ears. He pressed a small button on the sides that made a small beeping reverberate through his ears. Then, he could finally hear the whirring of the Marauder’s engine and every other background sound there was.

“That’s better,” He said with a relieved sigh. Crosshair let out a scoff as he plopped back down on Echo’s bunk. This time the ARC was given enough time to move his legs out of the way.

“What happened?” He asked.

“There was a power surge while you were still scomped in, Tech said it damaged your headpiece.” he explained unenthusiastically. Echo buried his face further into the pillow as he let out a groan. He remembered that unpleasant feeling all too well.

“It always happens whenever I’m about to unplug.” He groaned. Crosshair let out a huff and patted Echo’s knee again.

“Happens to the best of us, ARC trooper.” Crosshair comforted, at least Echo thought it was supposed to be comforting. Either way, he flipped off the sniper without looking up. He knew it was reciprocated after Cross’ hand fell off his knee.

“Thanks for the save, Cross.” he mumbled. Echo felt his eyes closing again as his headache begged him for another few hours of rest. Echo squinted open one eye as he felt Crosshair tense next to him.

The sniper was looking bashfully away, chewing on a newly acquired toothpick. Sometimes Echo wondered if he kept a pack of them on his person at all times. Crosshair glanced back at Echo and his hand returned to his knee. 

Crosshair was being a lot more touchy than usual, but Echo couldn’t complain about that. He welcomed any kind of comforting touch from his brothers, and getting one from Crosshair felt like a golden medal.

“Get some rest, reg.” Crosshair squeezed his knee as he said it. He didn’t have that ever present hiss that he usually held. Even though Echo didn’t have much feeling in his legs, it still felt nice. He let out a quiet hum as he drifted to sleep again.

What the hell? Tech thought incredulously as he watched Echo and Crosshair’s exchange. He knew the two were being more friendly towards each other, but what the hell?

This just didn’t feel like Crosshair. He was almost acting like Wrecker, though he still seemed to have some modesty in his actions. At least hadn’t pulled Echo into a full on bear hug. Honestly, if the others hadn’t been commenting on Crosshair’s unusual behavior, he might worry that he’d been going insane.

He rubbed his eyes as he finally decided to sit back up and work on fixing Echo’s headpiece. Crosshair eyed him quietly, likely guessing that Tech had been awake for far longer than he had been acting.

Tech adjusted his goggles as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. He turned his focus back onto Echo’s headpiece and fell into his usual, quiet routine.

“Oh, shut up.” Crosshair mumbled, somehow guessing what Tech had been thinking earlier, like he always did.

“I did not say anything.” Tech responded as he plugged another cable into the metal. He heard Crosshair huff behind him.

“I am not going soft on the reg.” he insisted.

“I never said you were.”

“Shut up.” He repeated. Tech rolled his eyes again.

“If you are truly worried about how we would all react to you and Echo getting along better, worry more about Wrecker’s reaction than mine.” he suggested, not looking up from his work. He had already done bad enough falling asleep, he had missed half of Echo and Crosshair’s conversation because of it too.

“Kark.” Crosshair muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Tech released a soft chuckle at Crosshair’s dread. Maybe he would tell Wrecker in great detail the conversation Cross and Echo had been having, or maybe…

“I will not tell, if you share some of the chocolates you snagged from Echo’s pack.” he bargained, though it would be better described as blackmail. He suppressed a laugh at Crosshair’s loud groan of defeat.

“I hate you.” Crosshair muttered. Tech heard the plastic ruffling of a bag as Crosshair relented. Soon enough, three chocolate truffles were placed on the workbench beside the headpiece. Tech smiled smugly as he popped one into his mouth.

“That is only because I actually know how to annoy you and win.” Tech said teasingly.

“Kark you.”

Echo would never undermine Crosshair’s kindness. After he had truly started to become friends with the sniper, he felt like he was really a part of Clone Force 99. He felt like he was really their brother, that there was no question about it.

Echo would always value Crosshair’s company, but sometimes it became too much. Sometimes he felt coddled by the sniper. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t as valued as a soldier as he was a brother. But all he’s ever known was how to be a soldier.

He would admit it, sometimes Crosshair annoyed him. He felt horrible for thinking it, but he thought it nonetheless. Crosshair was his little brother, but he’d never met a sibling, clone or natborn, that never got annoyed by their vod’ika.

Echo let his head fall back against the wall, making a thud when his headpiece connected with it. He dragged his hand down his face, then rubbed his eyes. Today was just one of those days where he felt miserable where no amount of sleep could help.

Not like he had the option to sleep anyway. They were about to be on a mission to take out a smuggler's ring in less than an hour. He just knew it would be one of those missions where one thing after another would go wrong.

A weight landed next to him on his bunk, making the shitty mattress creak. A bony shoulder bumped into his own and he lazily opened his eyes to meet Crosshair’s. He tried his best to smile at the sniper, though he only managed a grimace.

“One of those days?” Crosshair asked quietly. Echo scanned the rest of the cabin, it was empty save for them. The others were in the cockpit getting ready for landing. Echo should have been in the copilot’s seat, but a certain sniper had insisted he go to the cabin and rest his eyes.

“Yep.” He said, popping the “p,”  trying to lace it with as much spite as possible. Crosshair raised a brow, but Echo only looked away. He didn’t feel up for any of Crosshair’s snark, or any of his kind gestures, surprisingly.

“Would caf help?” Crosshair tried. Something about it made him clench his jaw, his bottom teeth pressing against the tops painfully. Crosshair must have seen the minute change, and he moved away slightly.

His scomp started to whir quietly. He didn’t think about it, it just did. Sometimes, when he did something with his real hand, his scomp would spin. When he clenched his fists, it would spin. When he grabbed onto something, it would spin.

It worked for the opposite too. Sometimes when he was connected to a computer, pushing code in front of his real senses and blocking out the world, his hand would clench into a fist. Sometimes his fingernails would dig into his skin to the point that he bled. 

One time, Tech had caught him doing it. He must have realized he wasn’t doing it consciously, because he never brought it up. Instead, he moved Echo’s hand so it was pressed flat against the console, and his fingers would dig into the metal instead of himself.

Crosshair must have noticed it too, because when he saw Echo’s scomp spin slowly, he backed away further. Echo shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to deal with any of this right now. His head hurt, his muscles ached, and the legs that he didn’t have anymore burned with phantom pains.

“Do you want-”

“Go away.” He said sharply, cutting off the sniper in his troubleshooting. He raised his head slightly and let it thud against the wall again. The edges of his headpiece pressed into his skin like the pressure of a dull knife.

“But,” and really that was the final straw. Echo sat up quickly, his annoyed, glowering gaze looking down on Crosshair. He seemed incredibly small in that moment, his back hunched and eyes looking up at Echo like a kicked puppy would.

“Crosshair.” He hissed, that alone enough warning to get the message across. Crosshair got up stiffly and headed towards the cockpit. Echo released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he visibly deflated.

Within seconds, he regretted his outburst. His shoulder suddenly felt very cold now that Crosshair wasn’t leaned against it. He dug his fingernails into the scratchy sheets of his bunk, the fabric scrunching up under his hands.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, biting his lower lip. Kark, he didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t want to get mad at Crosshair. The sniper was only trying to help. He ran his hand over his head.

He waited several minutes before he felt calm. He still felt like shit, but sociable enough to try to apologize to Crosshair. He got up, placing a hand against the top bunk as he felt dizzy for a moment, then he headed towards the cockpit.

Right as he opened the door, the ship jostled as it landed. Echo blinked several times as Wrecker passed him, carrying a pack of explosives, then was followed by the others.

“Ready to go, Echo?” Hunter asked, a soft smile on his face. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, and Echo frowned. He had definitely heard Echo’s outburst, and now he was acting like he was treading on glass.

“Yeah,” He said quickly, then tried to catch Crosshair’s attention. The sniper shouldered past him without a word, his head down. He left the ship after the others and left Echo standing there alone. He released a sigh, then followed the group. He would just have to apologize later.

A sharp explosion made the ground tremble. Crosshair lost his footing for a moment, but planted his feet firmly to stop himself from falling off his perch. He pulled his firepuncher up, balancing it on his forearm, then blasted the droid responsible for the grenade.

He watched as Tech and Hunter ran down one tunnel of the cavern, their lights getting dimmer the further they went. A squad of droids followed them, effectively taking the bait. Wrecker ran down another, blasting any droids that followed him so he could clear the exit.

He whirled around towards Echo’s position. The reg had been silent since his outburst, and Crosshair was happy to give him space. He knew there was always something bothering him, be it headaches or phantom pain. He just wished he was better at voicing it.

Crosshair blasted a droid coming up on Echo’s six, it crumpled to the ground from the burning hole in its head. He got a small thanks from Echo, though it was barely audible. He sounded strained. Definitely a headache.

It was kind of annoying, being to tell exactly what was wrong with someone, but still not being able to help. He knew Echo was in pain, but the reg refused to admit it or accept any help. He wondered if it was just a reg thing, being too proud to admit that he needed a rest.

He turned towards Hunter and Tech’s tunnel as Echo entered his, another group of droids following him. The charges Hunter and Tech had left were blinking swiftly, and would go off in seconds.

“Hunter, hurry it up.” Crosshair hissed into the comms, a hand pressed to the side of his helmet. It wasn’t long after Hunter’s affirmation that the two rounded the corner and fled to the middle of the large cavern. Crosshair made sure they were in the clear before he went ahead and fired at the charges, setting them off early.

“Wrecker, how’s it looking?” Hunter asked, his voice staticky through the comms.

“Exit’s cleared!” Wrecker responded cheerfully. Crosshair could imagine him pumping a fist in the air as he said it.

The sniper turned back towards Echo’s tunnel. The charges were about to detonate, he should be coming out about now. Crosshair watched the tunnel for any movement.

“Echo, sit-rep.” Hunter asked warily. There was static for a moment, then a choppy voice came through. Crosshair couldn’t make out a word Echo said. The cavern he took must have some kind of dampener.

“Echo, get back here.” Crosshair hissed. The static came through again and Crosshair muttered a curse. “I’m going after him.” He said as he jumped down from his perch to a lower ledge. He was closest to Echo’s tunnel, and he could make it in time before the charges went off.

“Negative, we can't risk-” Crosshair turned off his comms before Hunter could finish. He jumped down the final ledge and ran for the tunnel. The sniper set his firepuncher on his back and sprinted down the corridors.

As he ran, he tried comming Echo several times. Each was met with static. The charges on the walls only served to make him more and more nervous. He checked his vambrace, ignoring the several pings from Hunter and the others, and watched the detonation time slowly lower.

He turned a corner sharply, almost getting shot by a stray blaster bolt before jumping back. He got out his DC-17 and peeked around the corner. Echo was being ambushed by a larger squad of droids than the ones that followed.

Crosshair jumped out and started firing. Several droids fell and he made his push towards his brother. He got out his viroblade and slashed at several as well. Soon enough, he was back to back with Echo, both of them firing wildly at the crowd of droids.

“What the kark happened?” he demanded as he kicked at a droid that got a little too close. Echo pushed them both down as a blaster bolt whirred over their heads.

“Ran into another patrol when I was leading the first away.” he replied gruffly, focusing more on blasting droids. Crosshair scoffed.

“And you didn’t think to call in back-up?” He teased. Echo elbowed him lightly.

“My comms were being jammed.” He replied indignantly.

“Yeah,” Crosshair said with a huff, “we noticed.” they fell silent for a moment, simply blasting droids and focusing on staying alive. Crosshair glanced at Echo several times, glad that he at least seemed to be in a bit of a better mood now.

“Sorry about earlier.” Echo said after a while. Crosshair blasted three more droids, then spun around to Echo’s side and blasted two. Echo handled the few that had started going for Crosshair while his back was turned.

“It’s fine, you felt like shit, and I pushed you to find a solution.” He replied restlessly. Because it really was fine. He couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times he got pissed at Wrecker for simply being near him when he was upset.

“Still, I shouldn’t have gotten mad.” Echo insisted. Crosshair rolled his eyes. They just had to play the blame game, didn’t they?

“Oh, shut up.” he said after blasting the final droid. “We don’t have much time before the detonators go off,” he informed him. Echo nodded before nudging his shoulder lightly. Crosshair smirked behind his bucket.

“Let’s get moving then.” Echo responded before running off. Crosshair shook his head with a huff, then followed the ARC.

Wrecker let out a wide yawn as he entered the cabin. That mission had been exhausting, even for him. He hated it whenever they had to split up. That felt like too much of a close call when Echo stopped answering his comms, and then Crosshair stopped answering his comms.

Those two were a force to be reckoned with, though. Even if he couldn’t get into contact with either of them, he knew they would protect each other. He had been overjoyed to be proven right when they both came running out of the cave system, not a scratch on either.

He and Tech had been making bets on how long it would take Crosshair to admit that he was going soft. Wrecker thought he would admit it, some day, but Tech insisted he would never say it out loud.

He didn’t really need to say it out loud, though, because Wrecker had walked in on the cutest scene when he entered the cabin. He suppressed a laugh as he saw what the two were doing.

Echo sat on his bunk, leaned against the wall, with Crosshair’s head resting on his shoulder. He had his arm wrapped around Crosshair’s slender shoulder, and his head rested on top of the sniper’s.

Wrecker covered his mouth as he let out a small chuckle. He bit his lips to force back any more laughter. He glanced around the cabin looking for a way to take a holo (even he knew getting some kind of blackmail on his brother’s was always a good idea, even if it wouldn’t really work on Echo. Crosshair, on the other hand, was a very different story).

He grabbed Tech’s datapad, then took a quick holo of the two. His heart plummeted as the flash went off, and he quickly chucked the ‘pad back onto the workbench. As Crosshair stirred, he pantomimed simply walking over to his own bunk to take a nap.

“Wrecker,” Crosshair said, a deep warning in his voice. Wrecker hummed innocently at his brother. “Delete that holo.” He demanded. Wrecker looked towards the datapad on the workbench.

“What holo?” he countered. “I didn’t take any holo!” He held his hands up innocently, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Wrecker.” Crosshair hissed, glancing at Echo’s sleeping form. The reg’s head had fallen onto Crosshair’s shoulder as the sniper had woken up.

“Really, Cross, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wrecker insisted, looking anywhere but at Crosshair. He tried his best to suppress his smile.

“Fine.” the sniper hissed in defeat, “what do you want for it?” He relented. Wrecker let out a smug laugh of victory.

“You still have those candies?” He asked, knowing the answer. Crosshair’s flinch and immediate scowl only confirmed it.

“I hate you.” He grumbled as he got a small bag out of his back pocket. Wrecker held out his hands with a smile as Crosshair gave him five little chocolates.

“Awww, thanks Cross!” Wrecker said, as though Crosshair had just given him a gift out of the kindness of his heart. The sniper only flipped him off in response.

“Go to sleep, Wrecker.” Echo mumbled, making the two jump. The ARC still had his eyes closed, and his head was even more buried in Crosshair’s shoulder. Crosshair leaned back against the wall again and rested his head on top of Echo’s. He refused to make eye contact with Wrecker.

The bruiser only laughed. He popped two of the chocolates in his mouth before getting into his bunk. 

NPT: @travellingnorthwards @imreallymenow @ladysongmaster @jessica-caillte-jessicannot-draw @charliezzzz @here-comes-the-moose @saturn-sends-hugs @royallykt @padawancat97 @renton6echo @somestorythoughts

[translucent-sun]

“Do you want to go out tonight?” Obi-Wan asked over the report they’d been working on since the early morning hours.

They’d learned by now that no one really questioned it, so it’d become a habit, sitting together when time presented itself. It should make getting the work done quicker, but usually it did the opposite. Often the data in front of them was forgotten for long moments at a time when one of them brought up a topic that could be lengthy discussed, or when a new cup of tea was needed. Though today they’d both been oddly quiet, until Obi-Wan asked his question. And Cody wasn’t sure how to react, didn’t know whether Obi-Wan was serious.

“What exactly would that look like? I mean how could we...?” They could, he supposed, tell anyone who asks that he’s staying in Obi-Wan’s quarters because they have more reports to work through, more strategies to discuss, same if he took Obi-Wan to the barracks and looked for a free room there. But that would hardly count as “going out”. He was so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed that Obi-Wan was still waiting for him to continue, a smile slowly forming on his lips.

“Is that a yes?” Obi-Wan’s smile grew, and Cody couldn’t help but return it at his obvious excitement.

“Of course it is,” he said. “But where are we going?” There was a mischievous twinkle in Obi-Wan’s eyes when he answered.

“You’ll see.”

“What’s in the bag?” Cody asked after they’d been walking for a while. The sun was slowly beginning to set, though it was hardly noticeable under Coruscant’s city lights.

“Clothes,” Obi-Wan replied shortly, as though it was obvious. “We’ll change into them as soon as we’re at Dex’s.” Cody stopped for a moment, his brain trying to catch up.

“You’re taking me to Dex’s?” Cody couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why would we need to change clothes? It’s certainly not the fanciest of places.” He looked down on himself, considering his dress uniform.

“Only to change and to store everything we won’t need. The point of going where we are going is that no one knows our relations,” Obi-Wan said, motioning towards the republic sigil on Cody’s shoulder, then towards himself. “Don’t exactly want to be flaunting them.”

Now that Cody thought about it, he really didn’t have any clothes that didn’t mark him as part—as property—of the republic army. He had his armor he personalized, something to recognize him by, sure, but even that didn’t belong to him. He had his dress uniform. A republic issued set of pajamas. His blacks. All of them adorned with the sigil of the republic, making sure everyone who looked at him knew at first glance where—whom he belonged. He shook the thought off.

“When will you tell me where we’re going then?”

“Patience, dear,” Obi-Wan chuckled.

“To level twenty-five eighty-seven please,” Obi-Wan ordered the droid piloting the taxi once they sat inside, and for a moment Cody thought he must have misheard. Only when the droid answered in its tinny voice, confirming the request, could he be sure that he didn’t.

“One ride to Coruscant’s underworld, level twenty-five eighty-seven. Please note that we are not liable for theft of personal belongings or physical harm.”

Cody turned towards Obi-Wan slowly, only to find him looking back at him expectantly, looking smug.

“Really?” Cody chuckled. He really didn’t have to say much more, the look on his face must have been enough.

“Hey, I know a few places where the food is amazing,” Obi-Wan replied. “You’ll see.”

They arrived shortly after, and as soon as they stepped out of the taxi, Cody felt like he was in an entirely different world. He’d been to the lower levels before, but never during the night, and certainly not for fun. But now they were standing on the dock, and even here everything around them was buzzing with life.

“Come on,” Obi-Wan said, and without looking at him he could hear the smile in his voice. When Cody didn’t start moving, too captivated by the neon lights, Obi-Wan gently grabbed him by the arm and guided him along. “What do you want to do first?” Cody was positively overwhelmed.

“Well, what are the options?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan echoed, his hold on Cody’s arm softening. Cody felt his fingers trailing down the thick material of his coat before Obi-Wan’s fingers interlaced with his own. “We could just go explore or get a drink. Visit the night market, try a few things as a starter and then have a proper dinner somewhere.”

Cody chucked. “That doesn’t sound like options, that sounds like an entirely planned out night. How long have you been thinking about this?” He knew this most likely wouldn’t have been a spontaneous idea – it was too big for that. Organizing the clothes, making sure they both didn’t have any duties tonight, this plan. Cody couldn’t exactly place the feeling that came over him. Gratitude, yes, but also something at the back of his head that told him he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t think about it for too long before Obi-Wan tugged, swinging their joined hands between them when Cody caught up to walk in step.

“I have been planning, but not for long. I’ve been thinking about how we could spend time together outside our usual settings, and I talked to Anakin about it, asked him how he and Padme do it. And he told me about how they went on date nights down here, early into the war. I wasn’t sure how you would like that, but I thought it would be worth a try.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious, easiest thing. “So if it was a plan, how would it sound?”

Cody stopped walking, forcing Obi-Wan to do the same. He looked around at the hundreds of people walking past, none of them paying even a second of attention to them, and just for a moment, Cody considered kissing him right there and then.

“It sounds absolutely perfect.”

They did as they said, exploring and marveling at the neon lights reflecting off puddles and dirty chrome, of shards of glass both on the ground and in broken windows. Cody knew of the reputation of the lower levels, knew the population’s struggles. But being here, it was hard not to romanticize it. Some of his brothers had told him about Naboo’s Festival of Light once, and though he’d never seen it himself, he couldn’t imagine it to be more beautiful than this. It was magical. Cody was tugged out of his thoughts, quite literally, by his hand.

“Are you there?” Obi-Wan asked. He sounded amused, the corner of his mouth lifted with his raised eyebrow, and the smile only grew when Cody didn’t reply. Too occupied with the way the differed colors of light tinted Obi-Wan’s hair, sparkled in his bright eyes. There was nothing that could be more beautiful than this.

And this time, Cody did lean in and kiss him. It lasted no longer than a couple seconds, but time seemed to stand still and the kiss felt like an eternity when Obi-Wan returned it.

“What was that for?” Obi-Wan whispered when they parted.

“Thank you,” Cody simply said. “For taking me here.”

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Hi! Can you write a yandere story for any of the 501st clone troopers with a civilian darling? If they kidnapped them?

Apprehended - Yandere Captain Rex

You run through the dark and cluttered streets of Coruscant, the sound of multiple footsteps behind you. You fire your weapon back at your pursuers, trying to only slow them down and not kill them. If you kill then you will surely have more of a target on your back.

The neon lights of the lower city levels illuminates the path before you, and you hear the clone troopers gaining on you. They’ve been on your tail for weeks, and it seems like they have finally made their move.

Your heart is beating out of your chest, you quickly climb over a fence and down an alley. You hope that this isn’t a dead end.

You scale the alley wall as the troopers start to shoot nonlethal shots at you. One hits your leg and a wave of electricity shoots up through your body. You loose your grip and you fall to the ground.

You land on your side, pain blooming throughout your body. The sting of the stun shot makes your leg feel numb, in a painful way.

Before you can start to fire back, your gun is kicked away and you are manhandled onto your stomach.

“Suspect apprehended, over.” The trooper on top of you says as he hoisters his weapon and restrains your arms behind your back. You manage to throw a single punch at the clone before your arm is restrained again.

Your face is pushed into the ground, and you are unable to struggle any further. Two more clone troopers round the corner into the alley, a distinctive blue on their helmets and armour.

“Stay down.” The trooper above you states, still holding you down as you are handcuffed. Your leg is still painfully numb from where the stun shot hit you. You can only imagine how it would have felt if you got hit on the torso.

You are dragged to your feet, and a trooper who looks to be the leader walks up to you. He has extra marking on his trooper armour that dictates his higher rank than the other ones.

“You’re hard to track down.” The man says, his voice staticky due to his helmet. He lowers his gun and you don’t say a word to him.

“Not a talker, eh?” He comments again, his voice a little dry. He seems to be tired of chasing you all over the lower levels of Coruscant.

You have no reason to speak, you have committed no crime. You have no idea why they would be arresting you and chasing you down for weeks on end. You huff a little as you are pushed forward by the lower ranking trooper out of the alley.

“Take ‘em to the convoy, make sure she doesn’t slip her cuffs, Echo.” The higher ranking trooper speaks as you are dragged away by the upper arm.

“Aye, captain.” The trooper who is dragging you says. You exit the alley you had run into, limping slightly due to the numbness in your leg. The trooper notices this but makes no comment nor does he attempt to make walking easier for you by slowing down.

You can only hope that someone explains the situation to you soon, and why you are suddenly a wanted criminal. Maybe that higher ranking clone trooper has something to do with it…

[varpusvaras]

Fox had dreamed about running in the forest many times.

The first dream he had ever had about towering trees and soft paths under his feet had been back on Kamino. He was pretty sure that it had been right after they had started their classes on different terrains, and something about forests and their green and earthy tones must've stuck into Fox's brain. He had dreamed about the sandy ground, the branches creating canopies and sunlight filtering through them here and there, showing him the way, as his legs would carry him faster and faster through the trees.

He had had that same dream on Coruscant as well, his mind transferring him somewhere else while he slept, far away from all the grey walls and hard streets and bright neon lights he saw his every waking moment. He had always been more rested after those nights, as the running had always felt more freeing than anything in those dreams, and not like every step was like running straight towards his own grave, as it had been when he was awake.

Neither Kamino or Coruscant had had forests.

Alderaan had. So, so many of them. There was one right outside the Palace, and Fox could see it every time he looked outside the window, the green treetops stretching all the way to the foot of the Aldera Mountains.

It was right there, for the first time in his life, and for the first time in his life, Fox wasn't required to spend every minute of his life working for the system that wanted him dead.

It was right there, just like in his dreams, and Fox couldn't run anymore.

His doctors had called him lucky. He had miracuously not suffered oxygen deprivation to his brain, as his men and Bail and whoever of the Alderaanian delegation that had been there had kept his lungs moving and heart beating for him, when his body had not been capable of doing so by itself. He had gotten the best medical attention there was probably available in all the Galaxy, reconnecting his body back together, healing an injury which for most of the people anywhere would've been an automatic death sentence. He had a team of dedicated medical personel, monitoring his every vital and putting hours of their own life just to make his better. He had a wife and a husband who would give him anything he could ever ask for. He had a child, a beautiful, smart, wonderful child, who looked at him with bright eyes and even brighter smiles and didn't care that Fox had failed in his life so, so many times already, before she had even been born.

He was lucky. Fox knew that. He had more than he ever deserved.

Still, he couldn't deny the bitterness he felt when he would look out of the windows and see the forest and be so painfully aware that his dream would probably never come true.

It was pessimistic to think so. Fox knew that as well. His doctors thought that he was doing fine. Better than anybody could've expected. He had gotten strength and motion back to his upper body, to a level that he could operate by himself, and his legs, no matter how much they still shook sometimes or how uncoordinated they were or how badly they ached afterwards for days, were able to carry his weight and move him forward. Slowly, and more often than not a little painfully, but he was walking again.

It wasn't out of the question that he could, someday, walk without much of an issue, and perhaps, if they managed to adjust the treatment even more and he kept up with his therapies and exercises, he could run. Maybe. Someday.

Despite being lucky and getting more than he ever deserved, Fox had learned not to hope too much a long, long time ago, and letting go of habits that had been violently taught to him was hard.

He still dreamed of running in the forest, but these days, the dreams felt more taunting than anything else. So felt the forest.

It felt so now too, as Fox stood outside, just a few meters away from the first trees, and watched as Leia toddled around on the soft ground, beneath the shadows of the longest branches.

Fox still enjoyed being outside, of course he did. On Kamino, being outside had meant getting drenched and cold. On Coruscant, being outside had meant getting tired and hurt. On Alderaan, being outside meant that he was getting clean air and warm sunlight and time with his family. Of course he enjoyed it.

He just couldn't quite shake the bitter mournfullness from his heart, no matter how much joy there was to push it away to the furthest corner.

He still smiled as he watched Leia run around freely. No matter what, his daughter didn't yet have the failures of his life dragging her down. No matter what, she was happy and free, and that really was all Fox could ever ask for.

Leia stumbled a little bit. Her legs were still uncoordinated as well, after all, as she had just gotten the hang of running. She fell down more often than not, and Fox admired the way she always just stood up and continued like nothing had happened. It had been encouraging, back when Fox had taken his first, shaky steps. Leia had learned how to walk a few steps without holding onto anything just a couple of weeks before, and had seemed extactic when Fox had followed suit.

Fox tried not to think about the fact that she was already faster than him.

He watched as Leia pushed herself up, pouted just a little, and then made her way towards him, her hands reaching for Fox from the moment she looked at him.

"What is it?" Fox asked. He took a few steps to meet her halfway. His legs felt good today. No aches before he got up, and he got them to point where he wanted to for once.

Leia grabbed his hand. Hers were still so small, not being able to even wrap around Fox's fingers all the way. She tugged at it a bit.

"Walk!" She said, smiling at Fox and looking at him expectantly. "Buir walk!"

She had started to speak more as well, lately, even if most of the time she was just using one or two words to order them around.

"I am walking", Fox said. Leia tugged his hand again. "Where are we walking?"

He let her tug him another step forward, and Leia let go of his hand with one of hers for a moment to point at the forest.

Fox looked at the trees. Green and beautiful, with golden sunlight reflecting on the leaves and filtering through the branches to the soft ground. He then turned to look at the few members of the Royal Guard, standing a few meters away from them. They were always there, if Fox was outside, with or without Leia, just in case Fox needed someone to help him.

He couldn't defend himself, after all. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"Captain", he called. "We're going to take a little walk."

The Captain nodded.

"Of course, Your Highness", he said. "Call us, if you need assistance."

"I will", Fox said, and then turned back to Leia. "Show Buir where to go."

He didn't need to tell Leia twice. She was more than happy to pull Fox along, towards the trees and then underneath them, to the little path that wound around the roots and deeper into the forest. Fox held onto Leia's little hand as they walked, the sandy ground giving gently beneath their feet.

Leia didn't run, or even try to. She kept walking, matching her steps to Fox's, and turning to look at him with a wide grin every time they took a step at the same time, and giggled when Fox smiled back at her.

It was quiet in the forest. There was a slight wind above them, shifting the shapes of light and shadows around them ever so slightly. There were still little sapplings pushing upwards from the ground, even though all the older trees had already gotten their leaves fully back. The ground was soft and the air smelled gently like the resin running lazily down on the frames of the evergreen trees, and Fox-

Fox felt just as free, like he had in all of his dreams, as he walked slowly among the trees, Leia's hand in his, both on their own feet.

[fanfoolishness]

Lightweight(s)

The Bad Batch's first ever night out on the town, early on in their careers. Fluff, silliness, alcohol, general shenanigans and boys being boys. ~4200 words, somehow!

---

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” said Hunter, casting a wary eye at the entrance of 79’s.  Booming music spilled out onto the platform, waves of synth-funk and pounding bass already half-deafening.  The neon lights made his tongue prickle with the taste of ozone.

“Hey, how often do we get to shore up on Coruscant?” Wrecker asked, shoulder-checking him on his way out of the cab.  “C’mon.  The regs are always goin’ on about this place.  I wanna see what the big deal is!”

”The big deal is alcohol, of course,” said Tech.  He folded his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at the garish neon and the clusters of clones in off-duty blues and standard issue armor milling about.  “And the chance to imbibe it aggressively.  I’ve heard some of the tales that come out of this place, too, and things don’t always end well.  I suggest we take a more moderate approach, given none of us has ever had the chance to drink before.”

“We’ll be fine, Tech,” Crosshair said, adjusting his toothpick.  “We’re defective, remember?  I’m sure we could drink these regs under the table.”

”Don’t get cocky,” said Hunter, though he had to admit he was curious.  “It’s not a contest.”  

They’d just come off their fifth ever mission, riding high on how they’d managed to pit two tactical droids and their armies against each other with epic results, and he thought of the medals they’d been awarded for it.  He’d stowed his safely in his bunk on the Marauder until he could figure out what to do with it, but every time he glanced at it, he couldn’t help but feel a fierce pride.  They did deserve to blow off some steam after that.

Wrecker led the way into the bar, more than a few clones turning and staring at him — then at the rest of them as they filed through.  Too tall, too short, too broad, too skinny.  Though they were wearing their blues, there was still no hope of blending in.  A few stared at Tech’s goggles and Crosshair’s silver hair in particular; most were smart enough to avert their gaze at Wrecker’s bulk, given Wrecker would happily give them a shove if they mouthed off.  

Hunter watched the other clones’ faces carefully, ready in case anything started, but they made it to the bartender without incident.  Under the pounding music, he thought he heard a few whispers, but nothing major.

The clone behind the bar tilted his head, giving them an appraising look.  “Ninety-nines?” he ventured, his face impassive.

”What gave it away?” Wrecker laughed.  

“Problem?” Crosshair drawled, leaning over Wrecker’s shoulder.

”No problem.  Money’s money,” the bartender said with a shrug.  “What’ll it be?”

The four of them looked at each other.  They hadn’t gotten that far.

”Four harvest brews,” Tech said.  The bartender nodded and turned away.  Tech leaned in close to them to be heard.  “It’s a reasonable first drink.  Lower proof, known to be easy to drink.  I suggest we see how that goes and proceed from there.”

 “Did you research the menu ahead of time?” Hunter asked, already knowing the answer.

”What do you think I was doing in the cab?”

”Lower proof,” Wrecker said.  “Does that mean it’s for lightweights?  ‘Cause I’m no lightweight.”

“We’d noticed,” said Crosshair.

”Careful, Wrecker.  Don’t let it go to your head.”

The bartender returned with four large glasses of foamy amber ale and Hunter reached for his credits.  The Republic didn’t pay much, but they had nothing else to spend it on.  Why not this? 

The bartender held up a hand.  “Want to start a tab?”

”Yeah!” Wrecker said before Hunter could stop.  

“All right, sure,” Hunter said, feeling only slightly uneasy.

They took their drinks to a far corner of the bar, where a bunch of regs clustered around a table lined with two sets of glasses.  Hunter watched curiously as one tossed a small light ball into the air, bouncing it off the table until it clattered against the opposite side’s glasses harmlessly.  He groaned, the clones beside him shoving him and telling him to get it together.

”I propose a toast.  It’s traditional.”

”All right, what do you think?” Hunter asked Tech.

”To Clone Force Ninety-Nine,” Tech said, raising his glass high.  

“To the Bad Batch!” Wrecker crowed, clinking his glass enthusiastically.

”To the Bad Batch,” they echoed, raising their glasses.  They each took a drink.

”Phawww,” Hunter groaned, his nose wrinkling, sticking his tongue out.  The ale was bitter and malty, with an odd sour note.  It clung to the inside of his mouth, and he wished they had some ration bars on hand to cut the taste.  “This is beer?  It’s horrible.”

”I dunno, I kind of like it,” said Wrecker, taking a huge drink.  He coughed and sputtered.  “Maybe I don’t like it that much.”

”Perhaps it’s an acquired taste,” said Tech, looking less than pleased with his drink.  He took another sip, grimacing slightly.  “Or perhaps the intoxicating effects make up for the musty flavor.”

”I think it’s fine,” said Crosshair, drinking a quarter of his glass in one go.  He stifled a cough by chewing frantically on his toothpick, and Hunter rolled his eyes.

”So we just… sit here?  Drinking?” Wrecker asked, doing just that.  He looked puzzled.  “That’s really what people do here?”

”I suppose,” Hunter said.  “You put it like that, it really doesn’t sound like much.”  He tried his beer again, bracing himself, but it wasn’t as bad the second time around now that he knew what to expect.  

“Well, we could always play a game,” Crosshair said slyly, glancing at the regs clustered around their table.  “You know we could destroy them.”

”You don’t even know what they’re playing,” Tech admonished.  He adjusted his goggles.  “Then again, the rules do appear to be exceedingly simple.  Throw the ball into the other team’s cup, they take a drink.  The more intoxicated they become, the less able they are to throw accurately at the other team’s cups. It’s basic enough for even the wildly intoxicated to grasp.  I suspect the wild intoxication is the point.”

”That sounds like a recipe for a fight to break out,” Hunter said, a dozen different incidents of fights they’d had with regs sober coming to mind.  “C’mon lads, forget them.  We’re celebrating kicking ass together, who needs the regs?” He raised his glass again.  “Wrecker!  You nailed Plan Forty-two.  That was one helluva bomb!”

Wrecker laughed, taking another swig.  “Yes it was!  I almost thought I wasn’t gonna have enough chargers ‘til Tech helped me rig those downed droids to blow.  That was awesome!”

”The ensuing explosion was nothing short of tremendous,” Tech agreed.  “Truly inspired!  I was happy to assist.”

”Well, what about Cross’s ricochet taking out half of ‘em before they even got going?” Wrecker said, clapping Crosshair hard between the shoulders.  Crosshair nearly choked on his toothpick and took another drink, his cheeks flushing faintly reddish.

”It was easy,” he said, but Hunter knew he was pleased.  

“Easy nothing.  It was one for the books,” Hunter said, and Crosshair gave him a faint, surprised grin.

”Don’t forget Hunter’s planning,” Tech mentioned.  “We’d never have gotten that trap laid without his enhanced senses.”

“All part of the job,” Hunter said warmly.  Huh.  He felt a little warm all over, come to think of it.  

Wrecker drained the last of his glass, and not to be outdone, Crosshair did the same with his.  “I don’t feel anything,” Wrecker said, disappointed.

”Me neither,” said Crosshair, though Hunter thought his voice sounded a little different, even accounting for the loud music.  His face looked more flushed, his cheeks uncharacteristically ruddy.  Tech was giving him an appraising look.

”It is not instantaneous,” Tech said.  “Perhaps you should give it a moment before —“

”Another round!” Wrecker said, getting up to his feet.  “C’mon, Cross, let’s try something different.”

”You’re on,” said Crosshair, following as Wrecker parted a way through the crowd with his massive shoulders.  

Hunter turned back to Tech.  “I have a bad feeling about this….”

---

Bad feeling?  What bad feeling? 

Hunter snaked an arm over Tech’s shoulders, gripping his arm hard.  “Ahhh, glad we came out tonight,” he said.  He felt pleasantly warm and more than a little giddy, and everything was just funny.  “Just a couple bad batchers out on the town!”

”You could hardly call Coruscant a town,” Tech corrected, his cheeks pink and his goggles slightly askew.  Instead of leaning away from Hunter’s hug, he completed it, his arm draped loosely around Hunter’s waist.  With his other hand he gesticulated dramatically.  “It is an ecumenopolis with the city structure covering all natural features entirely except for a sliver of the planet’s tallest peak, which has been preserved as a —“

”Tech, Tech, Tech,” Wrecker said, draining his second drink and then patting him on the shoulder.  “Drink more.  Smart less.”

”Shots?” Crosshair asked, elbowing a reg out of the way as he came back to the table.  He had four tiny glasses balanced in his hands, each filled with blazing layers of red and pink and yellow liquid.  “They call it a Kamino Sunrise.  79’s special.”  

“We are already exhibiting sufficient signs of intoxication,” Tech pointed out, letting go of Hunter.  He’d drawn the word sufficient out far longer than he needed to, enunciating each syllable.  He held out his hand, tapping his palm as he counted.  “Slurred speech, jovial attitudes, and an expansive broadening of our normal personalities.  Trying these shots may put us over the line from tipsy to — what do the regs call it — wasted.”

”Live a little, Tech,” said Crosshair.  He slammed the shots down on the table save one, a bit of liquid spilling over the rims.  “Come on.  We live or die like men.”

”What does that even mean?” Wrecker roared, laughing and swiping one of the glasses.  “Hurry up!”

“I am living!  But I am also not eager to completely obliterate my exceptional critical thinking skills,” Tech said defensively.  “However, in the interest of brotherly camaraderie, I will try this shot against my better judgment.”

Tech and Hunter picked up their shot glasses, and Hunter gave Tech a look of Well, here goes nothing.  They clinked their glasses together.

”To… to…what are we toasting this time?” Wrecker asked. 

“Uh….”  They stared around at each other, Crosshair nibbling his toothpick, Tech staring off into the distance, Hunter’s mind a complete blank.  He stifled a giggle.

”To Lula!” Wrecker announced.  

Hunter met his brothers’ eyes, and they nodded, roaring, “To Lula!’

They slugged back their drinks, and Hunter had time only to perceive burning sugar spicy sweet before he’d gulped the thing down.  A wobble passed through his legs almost instantly, traveling like a wave from his head down, making everything glow.

“Uh, Cross?  What was in these?”

“I dunno.  I’m not a barkeep,” Crosshair said, weaving slightly where he stood.  He caught sight of the regs at their table and grinned.  “C’mon.  Let’s get ‘em.”

---

The battle was fierce.

The regs had been less than welcoming.  But with Wrecker looming and cracking his knuckles, Crosshair glowering, and Hunter’s relaxed shrug to say you may as well make it easy on yourselves, the regs had relented and given them a go.  (Tech, for his part, had simply shaken his head and rolled his eyes at the whole idea.)

Hunter figured they were sorely regretting it now.  They’d added this round to their tab (hope we brought enough credits!), which had gone a long way towards the regs playing with them.  And like Tech had said, the game was easy.  But it turned out bouncing the ball before it landed in a cup meant the other team had to drink double.  So did calling which cup the ball was going to land in before tossing it.  Absurdly, the effects stacked if both things were accomplished.

Which made Crosshair even more deadly than usual.  

He sidled up to the table, toothpick jutting from his mouth, looming over the playing field like a vengeful Venator.  Hunter could swear one of the regs, a shiny by the looks of him, was actually shaking.  He nursed an ale, keeping watch on the situation.  Funny how the beer seemed to taste a lot better now than it had in the beginning.  He took another drink, grinning.

Crosshair was merciless, especially with Wrecker egging him on.  It was hard not to.  Hunter couldn’t help but whoop with both of them as Crosshair scored hit after hit.  Even Tech whistled once or twice, one of those shrieking whistles with two fingers hooked into his mouth.  

It was a massacre.  Occasionally the other team managed to land a shot, but they were pretty damn gone and they missed far more often than they succeeded.  The few times they did land a shot, Crosshair gamely took a drink each time.  He started slurring his calls, but his aim was as good as ever.

“Cup six, two bounces.”

“One bounce, spin off the rim of cup two, it’ll land in four.  Trust me.”

“Two bounces off the wall, back onto the table, it’ll hop into three --”

“Cup nine from ten feet back, come on, give me some room--”

The regs on the other end of the table groaned.  “Come on!  Someone else has gotta take a turn!  He’s cheating!”

Crosshair drew himself up to his full height, instantly incandescent with rage, his eyes snapping.  He spat his toothpick to the floor, raising his fists.  Oh kriff -- Hunter had time to think before he jumped out in front of his brother, pushing him back with a hand on his chest.  Crosshair staggered into Tech, who managed to catch him before he fell.

“No he’s not,” Hunter bellowed, whirling to face the regs.  He glared at them, showing his teeth.  He’d learned pretty early on with the skull tattoo it was a good way to scare people off, and two of the regs took a step back, sweating.  “But if you’re a bunch of cowards who can’t handle it when someone’s better than you --” He puffed out his chest, crossing his arms.

“Hey!” Wrecker cried, leaning heavily on Hunter’s shoulder.  “Hey Hunter.  Why can’t we all just -- just get along?”  He hiccuped, grabbing one of the cups off the table and taking a drink.  “These guys ain’t so bad.  They’re tiny.  And they suck at ale pong.  But maybe we should all be friends.”

Hunter snorted, looking up at his brother.  “Now I know you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk!  Just…” Wrecker searched for the word.

“Just drunk?” Tech supplied helpfully.

“Yeah!  That’s it, drunk!”

Hunter buried his face in his hands.

Crosshair shoved past him, jerking a finger at the regs.  “This isn’t over,” he snarled.  He went to lean a hand on the table but missed, and promptly crashed to the ground in a pile of long flailing legs.  The regs erupted in laughter.

Tech was bending down, helping Crosshair back up to his feet.  Wrecker let go of Hunter and leaned down, elbowing Tech out of the way and hauling Crosshair up so fast he nearly fell over again.  “Hey, little brother!” Wrecker said loudly.  “You all right?”

“I’m fine, I just -- I must’ve --” Crosshair slurred.  His face suddenly looked pale, and he gripped Wrecker’s arm hard.  “Ooh.  Dizzy.”

“Let’s get you to sit down,” Tech said.  “I tried to warn you.”

“Shut up, Tech --”

“Listen to him, Crosshair,” said Hunter.  “Don’t make me pull rank.”  Crosshair glared, but the fight was going out of him.

They shambled their way back to a free table.  Crosshair was very definitely wobbling.  Wrecker was steady, but he was loudly singing something ridiculous.  Some pop song from the bar?  Hunter focused, or tried to.  Everything was coming through muzzy and muted.  His senses had never been so dull in his life, and he wondered vaguely if this was what normal clones felt like all the time.  

Hunter pulled up a seat at the table, peering at Crosshair.  Wrecker was still humming off-key under his breath.  Tech had disappeared.  Where had he gone to?  Hunter pulled his gaze away from Crosshair, glassy-eyed and pale, and saw Tech over at the bar.  

“Oh he’d better not be getting another round,” Hunter muttered, thinking of Crosshair.  Although he felt fine, if a little wavy around the edges.  Maybe he’d get one more beer before they headed out, ride this feeling a little further…  Nah, that probably wasn’t the best move right now.

“See ya,” Wrecker said suddenly, getting to his feet and taking Crosshair with him.

“What?  Where are you going?” Hunter called after them.

“He’s gonna upchuck!” said Wrecker cheerfully, bustling a tilting Crosshair off into the crowd. “Wanna come?”

Hunter groaned, torn between following them and waiting for Tech.  He got to his feet, wending his way through the crowd until he found Tech at the bar, having an argument with the bartender.

“I’ve calculated our tab, and you have been wildly undercharging us!” Tech accused.  “It’s highly suspicious --”

“It’s half-price night!” the bartender protested.  “Don’t you remember me telling you when you came in?”

“No,” Hunter said.  He leaned in.  “Tech, what gives?  If they want to charge us less, who cares?”

Tech opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again.  He pursed his lips.  “Well.  I suppose it’s his prerogative.”  

“Look, we’d better settle up.  Whatever it is we owe you,” Hunter said heavily.  The bartender gave him a price and he paid it, wondering what was going on with the pricing, but not caring enough to find out.

“Have a good night guys, all right?” the bartender said.  “And here’s some water for the way home.  You’ll need it.”  He slid several bottles of water over to them and Tech and Hunter gathered them up.

“You just had to bring up math, didn’t you?” 

“It doesn’t make any sense.  There is no special, Hunter.  I saw others close their tabs at the normal rate.”

“Maybe he charges less for defective clones.  Credit error in our favor, right?”  

“It’s ridiculous, but -- Ah.  Where did Wrecker and Crosshair go?”

“I think Crosshair overdid it,” said Hunter.  “They’re off to the ‘fresher.  Let’s go find ‘em.”

They found Wrecker guarding the far stall in the busy restroom.  Crosshair was slumped against the wall of the stall, cradling the toilet with one arm.  

“Yikes,” said Hunter.

“I did warn you,” said Tech.

“He’s taking it like a champ,” said Wrecker proudly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.  “Hey!  You guys brought another round?  I could go for somethin’ else!”

“It’s just water.  And you’re in the bathroom,” said Tech in disgust.

“Aww, man!”

Hunter crept into the stall, crouching beside Crosshair, who had leaned his head against the wall with his eyes closed.  The stall smelled of sick and sweat, nearly enough to turn his own stomach.  “Cross.  You all right?”

Crosshair cracked open one eye and glared blearily at him.  “At least no one had to hold my hair back,” he muttered. 

Hunter bristled.  “Oh, you are such a little --”  Then he grinned.  “Yeah, I think you’ll be all right.  Come on.  Ready to get out of here?”

Crosshair closed his eyes, wincing, then swallowed.  “Eurgh… another minute.”  

Hunter hurried out of the stall, slamming the door shut behind him.

---

They finally made it out twenty minutes later, after Crosshair swore he was done puking.  He was still wobbly on his feet but the glassy look in his eyes had faded.  Wrecker was steering him through the crowd, clearing a path with his vast arms.  Tech followed them, chattering to himself about inefficient business practices, while Hunter brought up the rear.  The crowd had started to thin out by now and it was noticeably less jam-packed and quieter.  Time to get a move on.

There was a lull in the music, and his ears pricked at a conversation carried through an empty pocket in the center of the room.  It was the bartender, talking to someone.  Hunter paused, listening, keeping his gaze averted so as not to alert the bartender he was being listened to.  

“Damn, I’m glad I followed my instinct with those ninety-nines.”

”What do you mean?”

”Well, they may have been defective, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know a shiny when I see one.  Gave ‘em the shiny special.”

“Isn’t that where you only serve ‘em half strength of what they ordered?”

“Yeah.  The brainy one almost figured it out, but the leader called him off.  Can you imagine how messed up those clones would have got if I’d let ‘em have the full-strength stuff?  Bunch of lightweights.”

”Kriff.”

”Yeah.  Poor bastards.  Shinies always overdo it.”

Hunter swallowed. They’d been drinking half of what they thought they had?  Crap.  That was embarrassing.  Shiny special, indeed.

He caught up to the others as they squeezed out through the front door and into the stale night air, finally free of the music that had been dully pounding in the background for hours.  Tech turned back to him.  “I’ve called a taxi.  Should be here in twenty.  I suggest we find a spot to sit down -- far from the edge of this platform, judging by the way our reflexes have been affected.”

“My reflexes are fine,” said Hunter, reaching for his knife to show off.  His hand hit fabric and he remembered he’d left his vibroblade with his armor back on the ship.  He gave Tech a flustered grin.  “Okay, fair point.”

They found a spot to sit against the wall, well away from the plummeting empty space at the edge of the platform.  For a moment, they were quiet, leaning back against the wall and sipping the water the bartender had sent them off with.  Hunter shook his head.  That clone had had their number, all right, as embarrassing it was to admit.  He wondered if he should tell the others, but he kept quiet, his senses slowly coming back to him.

Speeders whizzed by in the dark, flashes of multicolored lights zigging against the blue-black void and the neon across the shaft.  Their engines were bright little hums pressing against his eardrums.  He could feel their wind against his hair, the closest thing to real wind one could find this far down.  He watched them go, on and on, entranced.

Hunter looked over at his brothers.  They all looked drowsy, eyes heavy, faint smiles on their faces.  Tech yawned, leaning against him, head drifting to Hunter’s shoulder.  Hunter adjusted, making it easier for Tech to lean on him.  Beside Tech was Crosshair, his face slack and unfocused, his cheeks flushed, arm slung around Wrecker’s shoulders.  Wrecker was still humming, a cheery little nonsense tune.

“Not a bad night, lads, all in all,” said Hunter.

“It was certainly experimental.  We shall be better prepared next time.”

“You were over prepared!  I coulda kept going.”

“And we all might have blacked out if we’d tried to keep up with you.”

“Don’t fight,” Crosshair mumbled.  “Fun night.”

“Even if you puked your guts out!  Ha, good thing I got you in there in time.”  Wrecker looked way too pleased with himself.  Hunter would have gently smacked him if Tech wasn’t in the way, burrowing further into Hunter to get comfortable, his goggles digging into Hunter’s shoulder.

Crosshair shifted, giving Wrecker something like a hug.  “Wrecker, you’re the best,” he mumbled.  “Had to tell you.”

“Me?  Thanks, Crosshair!” Wrecker said, clearly delighted.

“Best… brother.  ‘Cept when you hog Lula.  Miss her,” Crosshair continued, closing his eyes, sounding half-asleep already.  “Best brother.  ‘Cept Tech.  Or Hunter.  Way better than those regs,” he rambled.

“I am clearly the best brother,” Tech announced, his face still jammed in Hunter’s sleeve.

“Nuh-uh!  He said I was the best first!”

“He said I was the best last,” Hunter countered.  “Beat that!”

“You are all… absurd.  Yes.  That is the word.”

“You’re just jealous!”

“All you… best.  Best brothers…”

“Aww, I think I like cuddly Cross!”

”I suggest we do not tell him of this in the morning.  He appears to have avoided alcohol poisoning, but not by much.  He may blackout and not remember.”

”Not tell him?  Are you kidding? I’m gonna tell him every day!”

Hunter chuckled to himself, taking a drink of his water and trying to get comfortable against the wall until their taxi came.  He watched the speeders zipping back and forth, his brothers arguing at his side, and he thought there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

---

Morning on the Havoc Marauder.

”Am I dead?”

”You are not dead.  You are merely hungover.”

”I think I’m dead.”

”Have some water.  Again, I must assure you, you are not dead.”

”Hunter, am I dead?”

”No.  Listen to Tech.  Drink some water.”

”But —“ 

“That’s an order.”

”Fine.  Also, I hate you both.”

”Sure.”

”I find that unlikely.”

”Wrecker.  Am I dead?”

”You better not be.  I’d be pissed.”

“Aw.  You’d miss me.”

”Yeah, I mean, probably.”

”I hate you too.”

”Love you, Crossie.”

”Don’t call me that — uggh.  My head…”

“Just take it easy, Crosshair.  It’s a while back to Kamino.  Sleep up, take your pain pills, and drink some water.  …lightweight.”

”I am not!”

The ship filled with laughter, and Crosshair took his pain pills, scowling fiercely enough to kill.

[valkyrieromanoff]

Good Boy: Sub! Anakin X f!reader

synopsis: Anakin finds you on a dark street at the Coruscant underworld and things move at a dangerous pace.

warning: 18+, submissive Anakin, bisexual reader, sexual innuendo, praise kink, pet kink, use of good boy, inappropriate power balance, implied cheating (not anakin x reader), dirty talk.

words: 3k

a/n: well, Anakin could probably be out of character or something, however i had a lot of fun writing. But after my sister spent the whole trip talking about him, I had to write and it ended up being filthier than I expected. Anyway, I hope you like it :)

You were sitting on a bench in a quiet street in the Coruscant underworld, in the back of bars and pleasure houses,  reading something in your datapad under bright neon lights. After a while, a shadow hovers over you, making it difficult to concentrate, with the presence at your side.

"May I sit here, sweetheart?" The voice was hoarse, although it had a peculiar charm. You noticed the foreign accent leaking through his words. He wasn't a coruscant citizen, that's for sure.

You looked up at a strangely attractive blonde man, dressed in well-tailored black clothes, it looked like some kind of armor with a cloak, reminding you of what the jedi used to wear.  And put your datapad down just a little, shaking your head without really thinking.

"Feel free" Your voice is low and smooth, with an aura of confidence and smugness in a perfect cadence.

"You're quite beautiful, sweetheart"

His voice is soothing, almost hypnotic, the kind of tone that could make every man or woman melt in his arms. He sits down next to you and looks into your eyes, his own deep and captivating. It's impossible to look away from his mesmerizing gaze.

"My name is Anakin Skywalker, what's yours?"

“Y/n” You replied calmly, looking away from him and returning your attention to your datapad.

"A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl. What are you reading?" He leans in close, almost whispering as he looks down at the datapad sitting on your lap.

You don't respond, you just tilt your datapad towards him, Anakin noticed that was a holobook.

His eyes light up as he reads the title. He looks back at you, curious, almost mesmerized by your beauty. There's something about the way you carry yourself, the way you look away whenever he meets your eyes. He can't help but wonder what's behind your stoic expression.

"So, you like classics, huh?"

"Some" Your response is short, filled with a certain disinterest and annoyance at being interrupted so many times. "You know what they say, classics are classics for a reason."

Anakin laughs softly as he looks at you. He can't help but be charmed by your attitude, the way your eyes sparkle with intelligence and your hair looks so adorable.

"But if classics are classics, why do you never look at me?" He leans closer until he's inches away from your face. His breath tickles your skin, teasing you.

You let out a giggle, your blood red lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"You didn't catch my eye" You retorted softly, looking away to stare at the neon light blinking in the dark night.

Anakin chuckles, pleased that he's managed to get under your skin. He grins, enjoying your lack of reaction at his advances. You are a mystery to him, a puzzle he's intrigued by. Your confidence, your intelligence, your poise, he finds you very alluring. He leans even closer, his breath hot on your skin.

"Perhaps you should catch mine." His voice is like a caress on your skin.

"I'll pass." You shrugged, looking at the starry sky. Your posture was stoic, yet there was something about you that made you seem relaxed and comfortable with yourself and the situation.

Anakin's eyes can't help but wander up and down your form as you look up to the night sky. The way you carry yourself with such confidence and grace is a turn on for him. He can't help but be drawn to your beauty.

"You know," he murmurs low, his breath warm against the nape of your neck. "you're very enticing."

"I hear that a lot" You retorted, smirking in his direction as you met his gaze.

Anakin can't help but laugh at your response. He's never met anyone like you, so unapologetically confident and sure of yourself.

"Do you now?" he chuckles, leaning in closer. "You like hearing that, don't you?"

"Maybe, I have a narcissistic side that likes to have its ego graced." You murmured, your blood red lips curling into a confident smile, as if you knew how attractive you were, and didn't need to try, you were already sensual by nature.

Anakin can't help but grin as he glances at your lips, imagining what they would feel like on his own. “I have a question”

Your boldness and confidence have a hypnotic effect on him, compelling him to reach out and trace your jawline with one finger. He wants to touch you, to caress you. He wants to taste you.

"Feel free" A soft, sensual cadence drips through your every word. You raise your eyebrow waiting for him to ask.

Anakin looks at you for a moment, admiring your beauty, the way your eyelashes gently brush against your cheeks. His voice is a gentle caress on your skin.

"Do you enjoy being attractive? Do you use your beauty to lure men in and make them crave you?"

"I like men on their knees" You whispered confidently, your tongue passing between your teeth sensually. "I like it when they beg"

Anakin chuckles softly. You're a bold one, he can see that. His eyes fall to your red lips, your tongue passing between the lushness of them. Your smile is so teasing and full of confidence.

"I bet you do," he murmurs, leaning in closer until he's just inches away. "And do you have a man on his knees today?"

"Uhm, I'm feeling fruity today. So, I was hoping for a woman, if I get lucky" You retorted casually, tucking a curl behind your ear.

Anakin laughs softly. You're so unabashed in your sexuality. It's a side of you that's intriguing to him, your playful confidence and desire to challenge him. 

"Do you have a type of woman?" He asks casually, leaning in closer, wanting to make you stutter.

"Uhm, not exactly." You mutter thoughtfully, your lips curling into a teasing smirk."But, housewives are the best, they know how to make you sweat in the garage while their husband is upstairs."

Anakin can't help but chuckle at your answer. You have such a naughty side to you, and you're not embarrassed by it at all. You have a way of flirting that's intriguing and enticing, making him want you more and more with every word.

"Really? So you like the ones that are secretly hungry for something more?" He leans in so close that he can feel your breath brushing against his skin.

"Well, when I can offer what they're looking for." You retorted nonchalantly, with a lustful smile. "And I cannot deny a woman's desire to have a good orgasm, to experience the pleasure that her husband cannot provide her"

In the few moments that he's been with you, he's been surprised by how straightforward you are, how sure you are of yourself and your desires. Your confidence is a turn on, your seductive smile a lure that makes his heart beat faster.

"And how would you provide such good sex?" He asks as his hand traces your cheek. His touch is soft and gentle, yet so sensual, almost hypnotic.

"It depends on what they want. Some have interesting fantasies." You shrug, your eyes exude self-confidence and self-esteem. "But maybe making them squirm in the bed they share with their husbands is my guilty pleasure."

"Hmm, I can tell you're the kind of woman that gets off on dominance." He leans in closer, his voice low and sensuous. His touch is a hint of softness on your cheek, gentle yet sensual.

"Have you ever been with couples? Have you ever been the third that made a wife beg for more?"

"As they say, the more the merrier" You smiled mischievously, looking at him from beneath your long eyelashes.

Anakin laughs softly as you answer. You are so unapologetically sensual and confident, it's almost intoxicating to him. He can't help but feel you in by your charms, your teasing smile and sensuous glances.

"I guess you could say that..." He leans in closer, his breath tickling your neck. "So, how many couples have you been a part of?"

"I don't fuck and tell" You retorted maliciously.

Anakin chuckles softly. He loves those sassy and cheeky answers you give him.

"Very well, keep your secrets, sweetheart." He leans in closer again, his breaths tickling your neck. His hand traces a circle on your thigh. "But I have a question for you."

"Of course you do." You giggled sensually. "You're such a curious little thing, aren't you?"

Anakin smiles slyly, the sound of your laughter hitting his ears like a sweet melody. The touch of your warm breath on his neck is making his heart beat faster.

"Yes I'm curious," he murmurs, his voice low and sensual. His hand moves up to your thigh, his touch becoming more insistent. "But most of all, I'm curious about one thing..."

"What would it be?" You raise your eyebrow curiously. Your hand running up his leg, and shamelessly squeezing his thigh.

Anakin sighs softly at your teasing, your hand grazing his thigh and squeezing softly. The feeling of your touch sends shivers down his body.

"It's something I've been meaning to ask you..." His voice cracks a bit as he speaks, the touch of your hand so intoxicatingly erotic.

"Uhm?" You urge him to continue.

He bites his lips for a moment, debating with himself before he whispers a single, simple word.

"Kiss me."

You laugh, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes.

"Not that easy, luv, you need to earn it" You whisper mischievously in his ear, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine.

Anakin chuckles softly at your teasing. You're so difficult, he can't help but admire your tenacity. Your flirtatiousness is so intoxicating to him, it makes his heart beat faster.

"Oh I'll earn it," he purrs in response, taking your hand and placing it on your thigh. "But how do you suggest I do that? Should I beg, or would you like me on my knees?"

"Perhaps both" You smile sensually. "You can have an extra for that" Your voice is full of mischievousness and shameless flirtation.

Your response makes him laugh softly. You're so bold and flirty, it almost hurts. He can't help but admire how you confidently wield your femininity, the way you tease and tempt him with your words is making him want you more and more.

"Are you always this cheeky?" He asks, his finger tracing your lips.

"Most of my life" You retorted, moving closer to him, your nose touching his neck.

Anakin can't help but shiver at the feeling of your warm breath on his neck, the way it's sending shudders through him is alluring.

"I'm begging for you..." Anakin whispers softly, looking into your eyes with total submission, his body trembling under your grip.

"Please, please kiss me..." He begs softly, his voice is filled with desperation and need.

"That's better, good boy" You smile mischievously, the compliment causes a mix of lust and humiliation for him. The way you play with him is almost cruel, leaving him vulnerable and begging.

You crash your lips against his, your hand still holds the sides of his cloak to keep Anakin in place.

The way you kiss him is so demanding, so aggressive yet sexy and sensual at the same time. The feeling of your body pinned against his puts him at your mercy, he isn't in control at all, he's your victim, your toy, and he loves every second of it.

His mouth meets yours in an intense kiss, your dominance sending shivers through him. Your bodies are so close to each other that your heat is radiating against him, which makes him blush with a mix of shame and excitement.

"Open your mouth" You demand,  your tongue tracing the seam of his lips.

Anakin can't help but moan softly at your forceful yet sensual orders. Your tongue tracing the seam of his lips sends shivers down his spine. So intense and erotic, the feeling of your tongue invading his mouth is intoxicating.

He opens his mouth and his tongue meets yours in an explosive kiss. Your bodies are so close and pressed against each other, he can't help but moan again in sheer pleasure. Anakin can do nothing but submit to you, your dominance is insatiable.

For a moment you are locked in a deep, sensual, passionate kiss, your tongue exploring each other's mouths with a delicious hunger. It feels so naughty but so good, the heat of your bodies pressed against each other is almost too much.

Anakin can't help but moan again, and again, and again, letting your dominance take over, letting you lead. He's helplessly intoxicated with desire, the powerlessness he feels is somehow so erotic. Your intense, sensual kisses will haunt him for the rest of the night.

You break the kiss, and Anakin can't help but groan at the loss of your lips. You laughed mockingly at his reaction, pulling his shirt to stop him from trying to do anything without you demanding.

Anakin moans softly as you pull away, your cruel tease causing an almost unbearable feeling of deprivation in him.

You know how to play with his desires, the way you laugh at his groan of frustration drives him mad with desire. Your hand gripping his cloak is too tempting, the feeling of your touch makes him squirm in anticipation. Your dominance is irresistible, taking control of his body and mind, making him putty in your hands.

"Perhaps we should move this to a more private place" You suggest, wiping off the smudges on your red lipstick from the shared kisses with your finger.

Your voice sounds like velvet, wrapping around him and making him purr in agreement. The way you hold him by the sides of his cloak makes Anakin almost feel like your puppy, and he realizes with surprise and shame that he doesn't care. In fact, there is something attractive about being your pet who will fulfill your every desire.

Anakin grins softly when you suggest moving to a more private place, the sound of your soothing voice wrapping around him like a caress. The feeling of being your pet is so intoxicatingly erotic, the way you hold him by his clothes is so dominating and yet so irresistible.

He lets out a soft growl and nods his head, his body quivering in anticipation for what's to come. The feeling of submission from being your toy is so delicious, he can't help but want to let you treat him like an obedient pet.

"Good boy" You praise him.

Anakin can't help but shiver at your playful pat on his head, a jolt of excitement flooding through him as his body reacts to your touch. He lets out a soft moan when you pull his clothes like a leash, your touch is so tantalizing and teasing. You're treating his body as if it's not his, as if it's just your toy to play with.The feeling of submission fills him with a mix of excitement and shame, his pants tighten in anticipation of what you will do to him when you are between four walls...