#try and save some of the clone troopers

[padawan-snack-packer]

Do you ever just go about your day, sip your little drink, open your little email, and then remember that Hardcase—our chaos ADHD king, our walking serotonin shot, our human thermal detonator—sacrificed himself with a grin and a quip so his brothers could escape? That he went out in a blaze of glory, piloting a stolen ship with literally no plan except “blow stuff up real good,” and the last thing he said was "live to fight another day boys, live to fight another day"???

Hardcase, who never stopped calling his brothers “sir” even when they told him to quit it. Hardcase, who probably never got promoted because he was “reckless.” Hardcase, who loved flying and loud noises and sunshine and probably didn’t understand why no one ever let him just have fun—and then he died for everyone else. Just. Like. That.

Do you ever remember Echo? Sweet, by-the-books, “regulations exist for a reason” Echo who lost everything and kept surviving anyway? Echo who got blown up during a rescue mission, turned into a cybernetic lab rat, hooked up to machines like a tool, stripped of his name, his agency, his brotherhood—and he still came back.

He came back and found out Fives was gone. He came back and the war was ending only to find out there was no end to begin with. He came back and nothing was the same, and he still kept going. That man has literally had half his body replaced with cyber-grade hardware and he's still more human than some Jedi.

Do you ever think about Fives? Fives who figured it out. Fives who knew about the chips. Fives who died saying the truth. He didn’t go down in glory. He wasn’t martyred. He bled out in a hangar, shaking and crying and trying to tell the people he trusted that everything was a lie. And NOBODY BELIEVED HIM. They said he lost his mind. THEY. SAID. HE LOST. HIS MIND.

Fives who just wanted to be loyal. Who just wanted to protect his brothers. Who died trying to save them all and didn’t live to see a single one freed.

Do you remember Jesse? That sweet, noble ARC trooper who wore the Republic symbol on his face like a badge of honor and who looked absolutely shattered when he turned on Ahsoka. He didn’t want to. You could see it. You could feel the war inside him. But the chip won. Because "good soldiers follow orders".

Do you remember Tup? That sweet, soft-spoken clone who glitched first. Who killed two jedi, because “Good soldiers follow orders,” like he was possessed. Because he was. Because the war broke him open before anyone was ready.

Do you ever remember Waxer and Boil? Waxer who kept an eye on a scared little Twi'lek girl Numa through a war zone. Waxer who died seeing his brothers were turning against each other because of Krell and his lies, and who apologized with his dying breath?

Do you remember that clones had names? Do you remember that they named themselves? That they forged their identities with paint and banter and nicknames and loyalty and found joy in being individuals even when everything about their existence was designed to erase that?

Do you remember that they aged twice as fast and weren’t supposed to live long enough to get tired?

That the GAR never intended to care for them after the war? That there was no post-war plan? That the Empire swept them aside for cheaper labor?

That Rex had to watch his brothers turn, die, disappear, and he STILL fought in the rebellion with a heart twice the size of Coruscant???

Do you ever think about how the clones were raised in pods, trained like blaster fodder, taught to say “Yes sir” and never think twice, and still found ways to be brave and kind and funny and GOOD???

DO YOU???

Anyway. I’m normal. Totally fine. Just sitting here naming my coffee cups after 501st troopers and crying into my caf. Would die for every single one of them. Even Dogma. ESPECIALLY Dogma. And Rex. And Fives. And Hardcase. And Echo. And Waxer. And-

[maidenvault]

A really underrated part of how the inhibitor chips are handled in canon is the fact that they can't be removed without an invasive procedure that has some risk. Whenever a character has his taken out it’s never necessarily an easy choice, a symbolic reminder that it takes bravery to choose not to be controlled by a system, and it gives these moments a lot more emotionality and impact because it’s not just a convenient plot device to restore or preserve their agency.

The most heroic moment Fives has is when learns he has this thing in him and he doesn't even hesitate to tell AZI to get it out, even if trying might kill him, because it so brazenly defies the way all clones have been positioned as powerless pawns whose individuality and choices ultimately won't matter in the big plan. When Rex has been activated and manages to get out just enough words to tell Ahsoka what to do to help him, it's a pretty powerful way of showing how much he trusts her at the end of their journey together throughout the war. Wrecker is the most hesitant to have his removed because he's scared of surgery but sees it's what is safest for everyone.

And thinking about it this way makes me appreciate why Rex's resistance has generally only been acting to help clones that have already willingly turned on the Empire, even though they always try not to hurt the others who may still on some level not be in control of themselves and, some could say, also need help. It makes me understand why the Batch couldn't just try to capture Crosshair at some point in season 1 and make him get his chip removed, something he'd never agree to while still under its influence.

It's implied that the Kaminoans subjected the Batch and Omega to a lot of scary and probably painful tests and procedures as they grew up - so much that Omega understands Echo being triggered by waking up hooked up to monitors and she dreads going back to being used in a lab. Fandom plays this up for angst in fanworks and rightfully calls the Kaminoans horrible for denying them agency over their own bodies in this and many other ways. Even if for a much better reason, the clone troopers who've left the Empire don't really have the right to treat their brothers that way and risk their safety when they're not in a state of being able to consent to it.

Just as none of the clones can reasonably hold themselves accountable for things they've done because of the inhibitor chips, they also can't be considered responsible for saving each other from being controlled by them. It's the Emperor and the Kaminoans that did this to all of them.

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[gingermaybel]

So we know there’s a Grand Army of the Republic Broadcast hosted by this lady⬇️ where troopers can and will request songs for each other and here are my thoughts (cloneshipping ahead don’t like don’t engage)

Grand Army of the Republic Broadcast, voice of the Outer Rim, one-stop service for everything from love song dedications to shout-outs, GAR’s go-to source for gossip, troopers’ much-needed morale booster.

Each week a different legion takes over as the temporary hosts. The 104th had Vode An and Force Bless the Republic as the daily opening tracks of their week; the 501st held an event called which curse word sounds funniest coming out of this⬆️ broadcasting droid; in the 41st’s turn, Generals Yoda and Unduli were invited as special guests—the audience loved the Jedi tales they kindly shared so much they petitioned for the duo to start a new broadcast of their own together. Sadly it never happened.

After teaming up with Clone Force 99, Ghost Company spent months trying to get them an opportunity to host purely because they wanted to watch the world burn. Cody violently shut that down and Crosshair was extremely disappointed.

When they were still on Rishi Moon, Fives, randomly decided to tease Echo, teamed up with Cutup to dig out every single love song that had ever existed and started dedicating them to him on the broadcast every day. Echo, for his part, pretended to be annoyed but was actually flustered as fuck for how gay this thing is. Then it stopped for a while when Fives lost his crime mate. Then he started again when they actually started dating. Then there was no one around to be dedicated to anymore. And then there was no one left to request the songs.

The first time Tech heard the name Echo from Rex, it sounded oddly familiar. Eventually he realised that he was that guy whose idiotic boyfriend bombarded the GAR broadcast with all those love song dedications from I Was Born to Love You to Ye Hua Xiang. It was actually a surprise to find how non-idiotic the man himself was. He had noticed those oddly out-of-place songs for that Echo among all the military anthems since the very beginning of the war. Some of them were surprisingly good, so he saved a few into a playlist and would listen to them whenever he’s working on some small inventions that didn’t require much focus.

Some time after Echo joined the bad batch, one day after a particularly gruelling mission, Tech shared that playlist with him. Over time, both of them added a few songs to it—tracks they heard during missions, or ones Echo remembered from the broadcasts Tech had missed. Sometimes, when they sat quietly together reading, they’d let the radio play them in the background.

And then that playlist too was never played again.

[vizslasaber]

UNDERSTANDING ──── echo.

summary: in the middle of the night, echo finds you, hurt and exhausted and in need of an apology.

pairing: arc trooper echo x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! just a sprinkling of angst and grief.

a/n: i love echo so much & im so glad he’s okay as of the finale!! this takes place sometime around the early seasons, but after the season 1 episode “cornered.” also, i listened to waves by chloe moriondo while writing this!

You’re not sure what to think of Echo.

Most of the time, he’s quiet. When he does speak, it’s usually to enforce a rule, remind the group of their current plan, or to keep Wrecker in check. You’ve seen his softer side, with Omega and occasionally his brothers, and it’s rare but honestly endearing.

The thing about him that most irks you, however, is that he never wants to seem to interact with you.

Officially, Hunter is the group leader; ever since Clone Force 99 accepted you into their squad, that much has been clear. You’re the only non-clone—or “natborn” as the others refer to you—living on the Marauder. It’s been several months since you saved Omega from bounty hunters on your home planet of Pantora, and now, you’re as much a part of the Bad Batch as anyone else.

Except, you’re not a batcher. Not really.

Despite how much you care for your squadmates, it’s easy to feel separated from them at times. Easy to feel different. Most of the others have picked up on this by now, and often go to great lengths to make you feel like one of them.

Not Echo, though. He seems—wary of you, almost, and you’re not sure why. Once, you brought it up to Tech, who simply waved you off with one of his shrewd, knowledge-filled comments. “You are new here, you know. Some people are simply slower to open up than others.”

You, however, know that’s not the case. You’ve seen Echo with his brothers, and with Omega. He can be kind, and funny, and even angry. But to you… to you, he’s nothing but quiet.

For some time, you tried your hardest to be yourself around him—to crack your usual sarcastic jokes at his expense, to be friendly, like you are with the others. But the constant avoidance and clipped answers leave you increasingly confused and hurt.

So you withdrew from him, too.

It still bothers you, sometimes. But you’ve learned to brush it off.

Now, you sit in the cockpit, feet resting against the control panel. A ration bar—one of the good ones—rests in your hand. Every so often, as you watch the blue glow of hyperspace streak past the viewport, you take a bite of the ration bar.

You’re on first watch. Someone has to stay in the cockpit to oversee the ship’s journey back to Ord Mantell—and, since you still can’t fall asleep in hyperspace, you keep volunteering for the job. The cockpit is mostly dark. All the lights are off, and the viewport is dimmed. Anything brighter reminds you of how sleep-deprived you are, and so you’re content to sit in the blue gloom.

Leaning your head against the headrest of the pilot’s chair, you close your eyes. Your entire body feels heavy with exhaustion, but every time you try to drift off, the rumbling of the ship’s hyperdrive jerks you awake.

The sound of footsteps startles you. You open your eyes, leaning around the back of the chair to inspect what little part of the ship’s corridor you can see. You can hear the sounds of someone moving around by the small common area, but you can’t tell who it is.

Tech’s probably experimenting again, you think wryly, and settle back into your comfortable position.

Soon, though, the footsteps grow closer. Someone enters the cockpit with a tired sigh, placing something on one of the chairs nearer to the door. It sort of sounds like Hunter, but with the similarity between everyone’s voices, you can’t be sure.

The footsteps halt suddenly. You look up to find honey-coloured eyes surveying you with apprehension. In the dim light, awash with blue, you register the glint of a cybernetic headpiece.

“Oh,” you say, blinking up at Echo, “hi.”

Echo only grunts.

You frown, looking down at your hands, at your half-eaten ration bar. “It’s late,” you say quietly. “You, um—you should get some rest.”

When Echo answers, you don’t look up. He says, voice low and gravelly with sleep, “I slept for a couple hours.”

Slowly, you nod, fiddling with the foil wrapper of the ration bar. The cockpit falls silent; you wait for Echo to leave, but he stays still, his shadow falling over your tired frame.

You want to ask why he’s still here. You want to be rude, to ask him to leave so you can have some peace and quiet. But truthfully, he isn’t saying anything, or causing any disturbances, so instead you hold up your unfinished ration bar. “You want a bite?”

Echo blinks. It seems to take him a moment to process your question. Then, to your faint surprise, he nods. “Thank you,” he says as you hand him the ration bar wordlessly.

It’s a peace offering, of sorts.

He sits in the co-pilot’s chair and takes a hesitant bite, chewing slowly. You see his expression brighten—probably at the realization that this is one of the good ration bars, the kind that Hunter always says not to hog—then return to his usual neutral one.

You watch as he swallows. He hands you back the bar, holding out his hand, but you don’t take it.

“Why… why are you here?” you ask quietly.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Echo drops his arm and breaks eye contact, looking almost embarrassed. Or maybe even ashamed.

Still, you wait for his answer. Several long, painful seconds pass before he says anything. When he speaks, it’s like he’s forcing out the words.

“I wanted to—” he pauses. His flesh hand fiddles with his metal one. “I wanted to apologize.”

You feel your breath hitch. Staring, you try not to gape. “What?” you say, whispering without meaning to. “I don’t—”

“I’ve been horrible to you,” Echo continues, voice steadier. “I didn’t mean to be so… withdrawn. I didn’t realize I was doing it. I… I hope you can forgive me.”

Instead of acknowledging his apology, you bite the inside of your cheek with uncertainty, then cross your arms over your chest. One of the others must have put him up to this. Probably Omega, or perhaps Hunter. Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “Who sent you?”

“No one!” Echo replies hurriedly, then presses his lips into a thin line. “I mean, Hunter told me that you—he said that—” He sighs. “I didn’t realize it on my own. But I came because I wanted to.”

You blink, cursing yourself when you feel your eyes sting. With a start, you realize that this is the most Echo has said to you since you joined the squad.

Taking in a breath, you wring your hands anxiously. “I just… I just don’t understand why.” You shrug. “You’re not the same with me. Not like how you are with the others.”

Echo swallows. “It’s not—”

“I just want to know what I did wrong.”

At that, Echo falls silent. Guilt permeates the air, enough that you can feel it.

“Hey,” Echo says, kinder than you’ve ever heard him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes, like lava, or maybe liquid gold, bore into you. It almost hurts to look.

“This,” he continues, gesturing to the space between you, “is not your fault.”

Against your will, a lone tear slips down your cheek. “So whose fault is it?” you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the ship’s engine

It’s obvious from the look on Echo’s face that he’s thinking of something—or someone—specific. Despite how much you want to, you don’t push.

You just wait.

“It’s my brother,” Echo finally murmurs, and you raise your eyebrows, quickly cycling through the rest of your squad. Hunter, Wrecker, Tech… maybe Crosshair? You can’t think what any of them, even the one who’s no longer a member of your group, have to do with you.

“Your... brother,” you repeat dumbly.

“Yes.” Echo nods. “Fives.”

Oh. A fellow soldier, then. Probably from before the war ended… and probably long dead.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you hastily wipe your cheek with your sleeve. “What—what about him?”

“You…” Echo shakes his head, then lets out a humourless chuckle as he turns to look at the viewport, at the swirling blues and whites and greys of hyperspace. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “You remind me of him.”

You blink.

Truthfully, you have no idea what to say to that. Luckily, Echo continues, saving you from having to come up with an answer.

“Your sense of humour, I mean. The sarcasm, the jokes.” He shrugs, and the light from the viewport catches on his cybernetic headpiece, glinting in the otherwise dim cockpit. “And… and the way you know people.”

“‘Know people’?” you echo, confused. “I’m not following.”

“You understand people,” Echo says, and finally looks at you again, eyes impossibly sad. “Somehow, without ever having experienced what others have gone through, you understand their pain—and you feel it with them.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again. “Fives used to do that too.”

And suddenly, as though a switch inside you has been flipped, it all makes sense. “And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me,” you realize, and Echo winces. “Because I remind you of him.”

“See?” The barest hint of a smile graces his lips. “You’re doing it now. And you’re not even trying.”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” Echo says. “I am. It just…”

“Hurts,” you finish, and Echo blinks, surprised. You smile softly. “I know you too, you know.” Reaching out, you take his flesh hand, gently prying it open and taking the ration bar. As Echo watches, you split the remaining piece in half and hand one to him. “And for what it’s worth—I forgive you.”

The shadows colouring Echo’s face suddenly seem lighter. He smiles, then—really smiles.

You take a bite of the ration bar and smile back.

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[vodika-vibes]

Congrats on 800 followers!!

Can I get a fluffy bonfire night with the 501st where Dogma and the reader are trying to keep their relationship a secret and they're able to show subtle affections to one another cuz everyone is distracted with whatever they're doing. Like holding hands in the shadows while watching the troopers laughing about something incoherent.

Keep It Secret, Keep It Safe

Summary: When General Skywalker gives the 501st a break, the men decide to take advantage of it by setting up a massive bonfire. You, however, settle yourself a bit away to watch the stars instead. Luckily, Dogma joins you.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader

Word Count: 923

Warnings: Heavy make out

A/N: I love Dogma so much, lol. Thank you for letting me write for him~

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

It’s nice to see the men of the 501st and the 212th relaxing, you decide as your gaze lazily sweeps across the beach. They work so hard and do so much they deserve the break.

You should be out there with them.

This is as much your break as it is theirs, after all.

But you’ve never been big on bonfires, or being around drunk people. And you can tell, even from where you’re sitting under a group of palm trees, that the alcohol is flowing freely by the fire.

You hope that Kix is keeping an eye on that. Drunk people and fire don’t mix well. Also, drunk people and the ocean don’t mix well either. 

You tilt your head against the rough bark behind you, your gaze drifting upward. You can almost barely make out the twin moons between the leaves of the trees.

Maybe you should move? It would make stargazing easier.

But moving takes energy, and if you move too much the men will notice you and you’ll be dragged into whatever chaos is brewing.

No, thank you.

You hear the sound of someone walking on sand and shift your head so that you’re no longer looking up. You want to be annoyed that someone would bother you when you don’t want to be bothered, but that annoyance fades before it can fully form when you see who’s heading toward you.

“Found you,” Dogma’s voice is light, and his dark eyes are locked on your face. 

“Was I missing?” You tease as you straighten slightly and stretch your legs out on the sand.

“Well, I was missing you, but I don’t think that’s the same thing.” He walks over to you to join you on the sand, “Here, I brought you some water.”

“No alcohol?”

“You don’t drink, cyare.”

You flash an amused grin at him and accept the bottle he’s holding out for you. “You know me so well.”

“Course I do, you’re my favorite subject to learn about.”

“Aww, you’re sweet.” You set the bottle in the sand and lightly take his, now free, hand in yours. Slowly, you trail your fingers over the palm of his hand and you trace his fingers.

Your gentle touches are rewarded with a slightly shaky exhale and a murmur of your name, “Careful, someone might see—” Dogma warns, his voice low.

“No one is paying attention to us,” You reply as you flip his hand to trace an old scar on the top of his hand, “I’m sure, right now, they don’t even know we exist.”

Dogma sets his bottle in the sand as well and turns slightly to bring his free hand up to caress your cheek, “Well, we could be so lucky.”

You close your eyes and lean into his tender touch, your heart so full that you feel like it will burst. If you were to die tomorrow, you would have no regrets because you had Dogma, for a time.

“I love you,” You murmur to him, before turning your head slightly to press a kiss against the palm of his hand.

Dogma releases a soft laugh and then he leans in and presses his forehead against yours. You open your eyes at the familiar sensation and find his gaze locked with yours.

He looks love-struck. An expression he saves for when the pair of you are alone. Smoothly he twists his hand so that his palm is flat against yours and your fingers are threaded together.

Everything he does seems so effortless. Romance is so easy for him.

You envy him for it.

Sometimes, when you think about him, the only thing you can think about is how much you love him. Even now when you try to tell him all of the things you love about him, you still get tongue-tied and can’t say anything coherent. 

For what it’s worth, Dogma doesn’t seem to mind that you get so flustered around him. If anything, he always seems amused by it.

You wish you could be as composed as he is, sometimes.

But you also know that he wouldn’t change you for anything in the galaxy.

A soft sigh falls from you when you feel his lips drifting across your cheeks, “You don’t play fair, Dogma.” You murmur.

“I’m not trying to be fair,” He replies, “This might be the only alone time we get on this whole deployment, I’m trying to make the most of it.”

You hum your agreement, deployment is just too hectic and too busy for any proper alone time, though no one thinks twice about you hanging out with Dogma, or Tup for that matter. Hardcase likes to make jokes about the Battalion Babies sticking together, and it’s, unfortunately, become a thing.

“You’re thinking too much,” Dogma says suddenly before his lips press against yours. You’re surprised, for a moment, and then you release a happy noise and lean into the kiss.

He’s right, of course.

Why should you spend time thinking and worrying, when you have your perfect boyfriend right here wanting your undivided attention?

You’re not surprised when Dogma deepens the kiss, his tongue effortlessly sliding past your unresisting lips to map out your mouth, and you’re not surprised when he tugs you so that you’re straddling him. And you’re not surprised when he pulls you so that you’re flush against him.

You’re not worried about getting caught.

You’re not worried about anything.

Right here, right now, the world is made of you and Dogma, and nothing else matters.

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[vadersassistant]

Hiiii

wo dering if you could do an enemies to lover anakin imagine. kind of like friends to enemies to lovers or something like that and it ends in them making out o whatever you are comfortable with.

Anyways thank youuu

Denial One Shot (Darth Vader x Reader)

Summary: After venturing into a Sith Temple to try and find an edge on the current war, (Y/N) meets her enemy, Lord Vader, the man who killed her best friend and secret lover. He has been hunting both her and her alias down for months, following her across the galaxy, but little does she know, he has no plans to kill her. Takes place in the temple seen in the Star Wars Rebels season two finale. Reader was previously a Jedi and is in hiding due to order 66.

Warnings: Make out session

A/N: (Y/N) does not know Vader is Anakin, and Vader does not know (Y/N) is the Fugitive he has been searching for. This is once again a mix of suited Vader and nightfall Vader. In which, Vader wears the suit and mask, but he can take it off and looks like the Anakin we know and love.

The temple was eerie, an odd feeling passing by with each step you took. It was the opposite of the one I grew up in, representing everything I was told to dislike, and yet I was here anyways. I had made up my mind to fight instead of continuing to run from the problem. I wasn’t a rebel, but I wasn’t an imperial either. I was the middle ground, a former Jedi with a new identity, a mask to shield my face so that I could live freely, but the saber still gave it away. I was good, too good to be a civilian having fun with an old relic, even though some still used them publicly. Some, as in him.

The Jedi fell and Lord Vader rose out of thin air. There was no preface, no foreshadowing, he just came, and everyone bowed their heads.

To outsiders he was a military leader trained in combat, who happened to use an imaginary power. To force users, like Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and I, he was a Sith. We all knew it the second he began hunting us down. He wanted the Jedi dead and made it clear when he began searching for my alias as well. Everyone knew who she was, I was put on every single imperial security watch available, but I evaded it all I could. I forged a new saber, so that they couldn’t track me that way, and told people about how the female jedi on the Holonets from the clone wars died. The only people who truly knew were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, since they too had done something similar. He was Ben, she was Ashla, and I gained the name Fugitive, a mask being the only way to keep track of my identity.

I couldn’t count how many storm-troopers I had killed by now, just that I did. I was forced to, to keep myself alive, because he wanted me turned in. I was always told to run, to flee from Vader because of what he’s done, but all I wanted was for the man to wind up dead. A lust for revenge had developed ever since I learned what he did to my best friend, Anakin Skywalker.

I don’t even know how he could have killed a warrior like him, but he did and now he’s gone. Slaughtered like any other while trying to save people in the temple, something someone with his character would have done naturally. The worst part is that everyone he was trying to save is dead too, and that he could have escaped with us, had he not done what he did. He had a wife, Senator Amidala, a good friend of mine, who also died that night, although I wasn’t sure if they ended on good terms.

The two had been arguing for a while, he believed she was cheating on him with Obi Wan, although she continued to deny it along with everyone else. I was the only one who he talked to about his problems willingly, even Kenobi would have to go through reading his mind to talk about personal issues. It was only when Anakin died that the truth came out, that being that Anakin was right, and she was seeing Kenobi.

I hadn’t recognized him after that point. I knew he was afraid he would be kicked out of the Jedi order if we found out he was dating another woman. Even further, the fact he knowingly was allowing the affair to happen, but it occurred anyways, and he lost everything with it. That was consequence enough, he didn’t need me to yell at him any further for going that far.

Still, I was angry, because I cared about Anakin.

And also loved him.

I denied it for years, the helpless prodding’s from Ahsoka when the two of us would spend hours upon hours with each other. We carried out the entire war effort, working extremely close together on missions. It was no surprise that I liked him, he had even mentioned subtly what things would be like if he hadn’t met her. It sounded like he regretted it, but I had no clue, due to us being force users.

I now stood in front of the man who took him away, the one that gutted him in the chest like a fish with no care whatsoever. The man that had been hunting me down under both my names since the night of the fall, the one that was known for murdering everyone in his path. I don’t know how he found me, I had a feeling we were being followed, but I didn’t care. We needed the Holocron inside of the temple, and Ahsoka now had it in hand. I could sense their distraught, both behind me looking at the Sith in front of us. They didn’t want to fight him; they were afraid to fight him. I felt differently, looking at his mask through the visors of my own.

“It was foretold that you would be here, our long-awaited meeting has come at last."

“This meeting is over,” Ahsoka said.

“Are you so sure?” the Sith questioned through the modulated voice his mask provided him, as I stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked me, his breath becoming short.

“Leave."

“No," he shook his head. "Don’t do this."

“Leave. Now.”

I looked up at the temple’s ceiling as the walls started to drop down. It was collapsing on itself, since the Holocron had been taken from the Obelisk. There wasn’t much to do, but I knew I didn’t want to pull them into this. I turned around and outstretched a hand.  

Ahsoka screamed as I force pushed both her and Obi-Wan back while the temple’s walls crashed down. I saw her figure fly back just before the drop and felt her gently land. There was a ship, they could leave, I would worry about myself after I killed him.

“We’re finishing this here,” I said. "I know you've been hunting me for the past months."

“You are courageous, unlike your friends,” the Sith mused. “Hateful.”

“You killed my best friend," I pointed out. "I want you to experience that same pain."

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he reminded. "Your confidence dilutes your ability to make rational decisions."

“I am no Jedi.”

“Then who are you? Your saber is unlike any I have ever seen, an identity successfully hidden behind a helm.”

“That’s none of your business, why have you been hunting me?” I asked. I felt the pressure of the Dark Side creeping against my mind's barriers, he was trying to invade.

“You would make a wonderful apprentice in the dark side,” Vader said. "You have already abandoned your training as a Jedi."

“I don’t side with murderers.”

“And yet you are one. I have seen your way of fighting Fugitive; you have killed countless of our troops and inquisitors.”

“Your Inquisitorious is an embarrassment, and I will never join you, not after what you did,” I called my saber to my hand, igniting it.

“Then you will die.”

There was this feeling of fear that attempted to wash over me, like he was attempting to throw me off, but I wasn't thinking about it anymore.

I ran full speed at him, force pushing myself up off the ground and into the air to try and put myself on the offensive. My blade met his right over his helmet, as he angled me back and I landed behind him. My automatic response was to try and swing for his legs, a move he evaded but had been surprised by. I knew I needed to be careful with how I played things. He would try and tire me out by just playing the defensive, but I also didn’t get that tired frow much stamina I built up during the war. Vader was also bigger, and stronger, meaning I’d need to use his weight to my advantage. I was quick, less stable, and grounded, and more agile in my movements.

We continued to take shots at each other, as he seemingly began to test me. It was a constant switch from the right to the left, bashing at each other from different angles and walking along with it. It was something Anakin and I always did, and it almost felt familiar. For whatever reason, I could feel myself getting into the rhythm Skywalker and I got into when we would train every day. After a certain point I would always switch my grip and force him to back off, and I did it purely out of muscle memory, shoving the Sith back.

“Your anger focuses you,” he commented. “Join me and I can enhance that power.”

“You killed him, the man I loved, do you truly believe I would ever consider that?”

“He is gone for a reason,” Vader said.

“He was the chosen one!” I shouted, interlocking lightsabers in a pursuit for power over the other. "You know why he lost his life?! Because he was trying to save everyone else, instead of actually caring for himself for once."

“(Y/N)."

I stumbled back immediately, hearing that name leave his mouth,

"What?"

My eyes widened beneath the visors, letting my guard down for just a moment.

It was all he needed.

I felt his immense force break through my walls and invade my mind, clawing through my memories and thoughts like a file. Not only that, but he immediately took me to the ground. It was quick, as he now straddled me, muscular thighs resting over my lower waist. Both my arms were pinned to either side with by the force, my saber in his hand.

I grunted, struggling under him and thrusting against his cod piece hoping it would make him budge but it barely made a difference. I couldn’t do a thing, as the Sith reached for my mask and pressed down on the sides. I felt it depressurize, as his gloved digits lifted it off my head, and I looked into his mask with my own eyes.

"How do you know my name?" I asked angrily as I fought underneath him to free myself.

There was no way of telling what he truly felt in that moment, holding the helm silently, breathing being the only indication he was still alive. I continued to try and do everything to get out of his grasp, but the Sith only sat there and took me in, his body heat lingering over my own. I felt like a mess, wondering where Ahsoka and Obi-Wan might be right now, realizing why Anakin lost his life to this man. I didn’t know how he knew my name, my real name, the one that no one had called me in months. I was fully pinned down, not giving up until I saw him reach for his own helmet.

"What are you do—"

My throat ran dry, amber eyes piercing through my body like a blade.

"Anakin."

It was him, with brown hair that held golden streaks just above his armor.

"(Y/N)."

Hearing his voice sent a shiver down my entire back, as I shuddered underneath him.

“I thought you died—they said Vader killed you—" there were tears welling up in my eyes, looking up at him.

“I am alive."

“Why did you turn?"

“The Jedi council was using us, Obi-Wan lied to me about Padme (Y/N), they were having an affair. But you know that already.”

“Obi Wan told us,” I trailed off.

“I know.”

“Do you plan to kill me?”

“No, that was never my intent," he emphasized lowly.

“So, what will you do?” I questioned.

“After separating myself from the order, I reflected much upon it,” Anakin started. "And came to terms with several of my mistakes."

“What mistakes?”

Still straddling me Anakin leaned down, placing his hands by either sides of my head and lowering himself to my ear.

“I was blindly dating filthy senator, when I had the love of my life right next to me the entire time."

"What do you mean?" I emphasized each word, my abdomen tensing as he got so close to me.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of my future and imagine you by my side. I told myself it was our strong bond causing me to think of you constantly, due to the amount of time we spent together, but now, I feel completely different."

"Anakin," my heart was racing, as he continued to whisper into my ear.

"Maker, I missed you so much."

He was just trying to be friendly, that's all this was.

"Now, I know you are not that naive," he let out a deep chuckle, reading my mind.

"Is this your way of coercing me into joining the dark side?" I said softly, trying to play it off.

"There is no need to coerce you (Y/N), your heart is already doing all the work," Anakin told me. "All there is to do is to make up for lost time."

"No.."

"Continuing to deny it is only stalling the inevitable," he spoke in a playful way. "Your hatred towards the one you believed to be my killer only proves it more."

"I—" I cut myself off, as Anakin moved his head, now right over mine.

"What is it?" he asked me, his golden eyes flicking from my lips up to my eyes in quick fashion.

I gave in, nodding to his silent question and feeling the force lift off my hands.

Anakin pressed his lips to mine as I lifted my head up and met him midway. His robotic hand came down to my waist, the other combing through my hair as he helped hold my head steady. It was delicate and prepared, goosebumps crawling over my skin as his weight pressed me onto the cold temple floors. He was an expert in the way he worked around my mouth, the first time I had ever kissed anyone to begin with.

To think such a sacred place would be ruined due to our own shenanigans.

A Jedi and a Sith, making out in a temple with no care for sentiment.

His lips were chapped yet soft, and the more breaths we took between kissing the more swollen they became. Anakin didn’t seem to care though, continuing to go down on my neck allowing me to breath. He wasn’t going too far, but it was enough for the occasion, leaving marks I that wouldn’t leave for days.

It was madness.

Everything around us screamed in pleasure, the force happily chiming along with the two sides agreeing on something, even if it wasn’t an argument. Anakin had changed, and I couldn’t decide if it was for better or for worse.

If only those two could see me now, making love to the man that we had been running from for months. The copious amounts of rage had turned to attraction in a blink of an eye, rejoicing in his presence as my hand pressed against his tunic and I felt his abdomen underneath the fabric. He was such light and yet the darkness itself, drowning me in it as we sunk into a pool of ecstasy.

The cold stone floors were soon heated, as the temple grew humid and we both simultaneously agreed to take our tops off. It was the definition of multitasking, as I took off his armor and tunic, leaving behind a black pair of pants, and his boots. With the force he slipped my top off, gaining access to my collar bone and gracing it with his mouth. There was a possessive feeling in the air, as he took in my body for the first time with his own eyes as I did to him.

"You are so beautiful, it is intoxicating."

I felt myself smiling, sitting up and wrapping my arms around his neck, the both of us kissing deeply. This was it, holding our breath as we enjoyed one another, but the force was warning the both of us.

The temple shook, I almost forgot it was collapsing.

"We need to escape before we become trapped inside," Anakin said. "My ship is outside."

"And you assume I'm coming?"

"I know you are."

I laughed, acknowledging his foresight. We put on our clothes hurriedly yet thoroughly, as someone trained to handle life or death would. In truth, that was what we stood for, as Jedi and Sith both came together as one, in ways that would be frowned upon.

Except we didn't care.

We weren't denying it any longer.

Back in business since the recent Ahsoka episode. Hope you all enjoyed!

[queenariesofnarnia]

the rescue

tech x f!jedi reader

wc: 1,552

tech lives au, i was a tech is cx-2 believer

warnings: some spoilers if you haven't finished season 3, mentions of grief, hemlock, and brief violence

You knew this was going to be risky but it was your best shot. You stood with Crosshair doing your best to take out the assassins. Until you got distracted by a pull in the force. A familiar pull you haven’t felt since Eriadu. Collapsing to your knees at the overwhelming feeling, blasters dropped to the floor as a painful scream wracked through your body. Darkness took over your vision as a blaster bolt stuns you. 

The only feeling you can make out is him. You were too overwhelmed by grief following his fall, the day Hunter restrained you from jumping after him. From that day on you’ve beaten yourself up over not saving him. You felt like the force abandoned you that day, the pain was enough to anger you. But you put the effort into finding Omega, working through the grief was hard but you got her and Crosshair back. That’s something Tech would’ve wanted. 

“A glaring weakness in clones is their loyalty to one another. Thank you for proving my point” a voice you’ve only heard once before tonight reaches your ears as you stir awake. You try to free your hands but it doesn’t work. “Their efforts have failed. Predictably so.” Hemlock adds. 

“Sir there’s been an explosion in the central lab. It’s been destroyed” a trooper informs. 

“You failed too. Your data’s gone” Omega says. 

“But I have you” Hemlock retorts. You glance over to see Wrecker has woken up. 

“You’re forgetting one thing” her tone proud, as Wrecker breaks loose. “I have them” she adds. She runs to your side freeing your restraints then Hunters. Before Hemlock cuffs her to him and runs out. 

“Get the kid” Wrecker says before tackling an assassin through the window. Hunter picks up the electric staff one of the assassins was using. Stumbling through the small area. You notice the assassin that has been on your tail ever since Omega has come back to you going for Hunter. That’s when you feel the force pull you again. You see Crosshair aim a blaster at the assassin and it misses. As Hunter gets ready to throw the spear you force it from his hands. 

“Crosshair drop the blaster” you demand through gritted teeth. He looks at you like you’ve gone crazy. “Cross please” you plead with him. The assassin makes a move towards you. You push him back into the wall. “Go to sleep” using a mind trick on him. He collapsed against you, taking you down to the floor. 

“Why?” Hunter begins to question. You wave your hand at him instructing him to go after Omega. You free your hands from under the assassins weight reaching for his helmet. Pulling it off slowly. Auburn curls fell in his face at the removal of his helmet. Auburn curls that you recognize from the late nights of playing with them until he fell asleep. Curls that he always kept slicked back during his soldier days. You lift him up slowly, placing your hands under his arms you begin your drag him out to the shuttle. Using any strength your body had to get him there alive was your objective. Acquiring a blaster to stop anyone who got in your way. The one time you wish you brought your saber along but you knew the risk. Not many of Hemlock’s troopers stayed behind or many have already been dealt with as you trudged through the hall nearing the hangar. Hearing your name being frantically called over the coms of an unconscious trooper leaning down to pick it up. 

“I’m almost to you” you grunt out as you pull Tech’s body along trying to minimize the amount of bruises he’ll have when he wakes up. As you make way through the doors of the hangar, you see the shuttle, relief washing over you. Your body may be exhausted but you weren’t giving up. Echo runs to meet you, a look of disbelief as he sees who is in your arms. “Help me please. He’s heavier than he looks” you joke. Echo chuckles but grabs a hold of Tech’s left arm as you drag him up the boarding ramp. 

“How did you know it was him?” Echo asks as you strap him into a seat. 

“I felt him. It was like feeling his signature for the first time all over again” you explain plopping into the seat next to him. A look of sympathy flashes in Echo’s eyes. 

“Thank you for bringing him home” he says squeezing your shoulder. “Now let’s get out of here” he adds leaving you to go pilot the shuttle back to Pabu. You’re surrounded by other clones that you’ve rescued, some you’ve seen before during the war. They all greeted you with respect. A soft smile on your face as you greeted them back before telling them to try and rest. 

Once in hyperspace the rest of the batch made their way to you. Echo told them the news, and they rushed down to see for themselves. There he was asleep with you at his side. 

“She felt him” Omega quietly says. “She told me she can feel all of us in the force, regardless of the fact we’re clones. We still have a unique force signature” she adds. 

“She sent us out to make sure she was right” Crosshair tells Hunter specifically. If anyone knew you best when it came to your emotions it was him. Wrecker grins before he sits on the floor in front of you leaning back to close his eyes as well. He’s taken many hits today, and the adrenaline has finally worn off. Omega and Crosshair sit in the empty seats next to you. Omega holds your hand as she rests her head against your arm. 

“I’ll go sit with Echo for now. It’s too much to stay down here” Hunter tells them. They nod in response knowing that his senses are still extremely sensitive after Tantiss. He smiles softly before heading back to the cockpit with Echo.  

-On Pabu🌊🏝️-

A few rotations later, you were still unconscious which didn’t surprise the batch. You rarely slept since Eriadu. Tech was still unconscious as well and bound to the bed with binders. Echo got his lenses in his goggles fixed for him. Placing them on the bedside table. They each took turns rotating between your room and Tech’s. You woke up first, while Omega sat with Batcher. 

“Mom!” Omega yells throwing herself on the bed. She’s been calling you mom since the mission on Ryloth, and you cried the first time she said it. Batcher joins her, as her tail wags in excitement. Your arms wrap around her tightly as you press a kiss into her hair. Hunter enters the room his eyes meeting yours. You could feel the relief wash over him. He joins your side placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Good to see you awake” he says with a smile. You smile back at him before letting Omega go so she can tell the others you’re awake. Your head rest against his shoulder, taking in the silence. You could tell what he was feeling without you having to communicate. 

“You’re worried about when he wakes up” you whisper. He briefly tenses before nodding. “I can help with his memory but that means I’d have to go into his mind” you tell him playing with your hands. 

“We can show him all his recordings. He’s documented everything since we were cadets” he tells you before getting up as Wrecker and Crosshair enter. A small smile is on Crosshair’s face as your eyes meet, you flash him one back. Wrecker comes over kissing the top of your head letting you know how happy he is to see you. You hear Omega and Echo yell from the next room that Tech has woken up. You spring out of bed dashing down the hall. His honey eyes meet yours, he looks confused but you slowly approach him. Despite the others protesting. You reach for his repaired goggles placing them on him. Your hands slide down his face gently cradling it. He relaxed into your touch to your surprise. You wrap him in your force signature, to make sure he stays calm. His eyes closing briefly enjoying your touch. Before that open abruptly. 

“Cyar’ika” his voice was low and hoarse. Tears fill your eyes, hearing his voice from him instead of an old recording. Your arms wrap around his neck as you begin to cry into his shoulder. Omega quickly goes over releasing him from his binders so he can wrap his arms around you. 

“Ner kar’ta” you manage to get out in between your sniffling. As you pull away he grabs you by the back of your neck pulling you in for a kiss. Pulling apart at Hunter clearing his throat. 

“Welcome back Tech” he says smirking, knowing his brother normally kept physical affection private. 

“I am glad to be back. However can anyone tell me what has happened to my ship?” Tech inquires.

“About that..” Wrecker starts, Crosshair covers his mouth before he can continue. You try to hide your laughter as Tech keeps asking about the Marauder.  No one had the heart to tell him he destroyed his own ship, at least not yet. 

🩶

Mando'a Translations: Cyar'ika: Darling

Ner Kar'ta: My heart

Tags: @bad4amficideas

[artist-kreating-stuff]

Leave her, Johnny

Clone Trooper x GN!Medic Reader

Warnings: mentions of bodily injury and death

—————

You were only barely out of medic training when the summons came through for more medics on the front lines. You, along with other medics, some being fresh graduates like yourself, were sent to various outskirts of the war to provide support in the med bays.

You were barely there a day before things quickly fell by the wayside.

The Droid Army attacked in the middle of the night, catching everyone by surprise. The clone troopers were forced into the fight, and you and the other medics were forced right along with them to provide whatever backup you could.

As inexperienced in combat as you were, you tried to keep to the outskirts of the battle. So far you had only come across troopers that were already dead, smoking holes decorating their armor. Each sighting caused the guilt to weigh heavier and heavier on your shoulders, and you quickened your pace, praying to whichever deity that was listening that you would at least be able to save one trooper before the battle was over.

Finally, you spotted movement. The trooper was lying prone on the ground and wreathed in blaster fire smoke, but he was visibly twitching, which meant he was still alive. You thanked whatever deity had listened and asked them to keep the good luck going as you slid to your knees beside the trooper. “Don’t worry, trooper - I’ve got you!”

You whipped off the clone’s bucket, revealing the prominent cheekbones and sharp military haircut that all clones shared. His skin was pale and clammy, but he flashed a weak smile up at you. “D-dang, are you a s-sight for sore eyes…” He drawled, though the tone fell short on account of his constant wheezing.

You offered a tense smirk of your own as you went about checking the damage. “What’s your name, trooper?” You asked him, trying to keep him talking in case he had a concussion.

The trooper coughed harshly before answering, “D-don’t have one… I-I was released from Kamino about a week ago… I-I’m a Shiny, as the c-commanders call ‘em…” He flashed you another strained smile. “T-this was my f-first battle… and a-apparently my last…”

Panic shot through your system at his nonchalant words, but you tried to keep calm. “Don’t say that, trooper,” you told him as you attempted to pry off his damaged chest plate to assess the skin underneath. “You and I are going to get out of this hellhole together, you hear me?”

The trooper laughed again, but there was no mirth in it this time. “D-don’t lie to me, Doc,” He told you, though there was no heat behind it. “I-I can already t-tell it’s bad…”

You wanted to tell him otherwise, but you couldn’t deny what you were seeing. The droids had managed to clip him with a shot right to his abdomen, charring the skin around the injury and turning the exposed muscle black. From what you could see, you guessed they had hit one of his kidneys. A kill shot.

You thought back to the dead troopers you had seen on the battlefield and resigned yourself to the fact that this trooper would soon be joining them. “I-I’m sorry, trooper, but…”

“I-it’s okay…” He said gently, gently touching one of your hands, both of which were still clamped around his chest plate. “I-I knew this would happen eventually… we all did…” His voice was pained, but his deep brown eyes were full of acceptance. “I-if not our first b-battle, t-then later on… We d-didn’t expect to see the end of t-the war…”

Like his previous statement, you so desperately wanted to rebuke this one, but it was true. Even among the medics, it was a widely held belief that most of the clones wouldn’t live to see the end of the war. And where one clone fell, several more would soon take his place. This trooper was shiny and new, fresh off of Kamino, yet already living (or rather, dying) proof of that fact.

They were viewed as expendable, every last one of them. The unfairness of it cut you to your core.

“I’m so, so sorry…” you admitted redundantly, slowly lowering his chest plate as you tried in vain to fight off tears.

“I-it’s okay,” He repeated, moving his hand to gently grasp your forearm. “A-at least I w-won’t be alone… t-that’s more than most t-troopers can say.”

That statement was the only one you wanted to say was true, but you heard an anguished cry and were reminded of your job. There were other troopers fighting and dying, and you had already spent too much time on this one. You knew you had to get back in the field, but the thought of leaving this trooper alone while he was in pain twisted your stomach.

The trooper seemed to sense your inner turmoil, tightening his hold on your hand and causing you to look back down at him. The naked desperation in his eyes nearly broke the dam on your tears. “P-please… stay with me?” He asked tentatively, as if he was already fully aware that you had to leave.

After that small plea, there was no force in the galaxy that would make you vacate his side. Without speaking, you changed your hold on his hand to a more secure one and hoisted his body into your lap, mindful of the gaping hole in his abdomen. The trooper seemed to feel better now that he was sure that you weren’t about to leave him, smiling and relaxing into your hold. “Thank you,” He mumbled into the armor of your medic uniform.

You simply nodded and held him a fraction tighter, wanting to convey as much comfort as you could during his final moments. The conversation took an uncomfortable lull as you both waited for death to arrive, punctuated only by the distant sounds of battle and the trooper’s labored breathing. The silence was unbearable, so you were thinking of ways to fill the void when an idea struck you.

“You know,” you started softly, feeling the trooper’s hand shake in yours. “I came from a mostly ocean planet, like you. It had several landmasses, though - it wasn’t fully ocean, unlike Kamino.”

The trooper scoffed wetly, sounding like it was more from pain than amusement. “S-seeing is b-believing…” He said lightly.

Not that I’ll ever get to see it.

Both of you heard the unsaid words, but neither decided to comment on it. “Because there was so much ocean, most of our trade was seafood-based,” You continued. “I grew up next to the harbor, and everyday I would watch as fishing ships came and went on the water. Every time a crew came back from a particularly long trip on the water, they would sing a little song as they unloaded their ship. It was their own special way of ending a journey. I could sing it for you, if you’d like.”

To your surprise, the trooper nodded his head vigorously. “Y-yes… yes please,” He begged, clutching your hand with a new energy. “A-anything to fill the silence…”

You nodded in return and readjusted the trooper’s body against yours, keeping his ear close to your chest so he could at least feel a human heartbeat as he passed. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, pulling the verses of the song from memory. You were in no way a professional singer but you started to sing softly…

I thought I heard the Old Man say,

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

“Tomorrow you will get your pay,

“And it’s time for us to leave her.”

Leave her, Johnny, leave her.

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

For the voyage is long and the winds won’t blow,

And it’s time for us to leave her.

Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her.

She shipped it green and none went by,

And it’s time for us to leave her.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her.

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

For the voyage is long and the winds won’t blow,

And it’s time for us to leave her.

I hate to sail on this rotten tub.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her.

No grog allowed and rotten grub,

And it’s time for us to leave her.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her.

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

For the voyage is long and the winds won’t blow,

And it’s time for us to leave her.

We swear by rote for want of more.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her.

But now we’re through, so we’ll go on shore,

And it’s time for us to leave her.

Sometime after the first verse, your eyes opened and you took in the sight of the trooper as he listened to your song.

His eyes closed after the second verse.

His lips curved upward into a smile after the third verse.

His breathing started to hitch after the fourth verse.

His grip went lax after the fifth verse.

He stopped moving altogether after the sixth verse.

By the time you finished the seventh verse, your fingers had wandered up to the pulse point beneath his ear, and you had confirmed that he had finally passed.

The dam bowed and shifted, yet you still refused to let it break just yet. You resolved to finish what you had started, for the trooper’s sake. You barreled forward and sang the last verse with something akin to a broken cry:

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

For the voyage is long and the winds won’t blow,

And it’s time for us to leave her!

With that, the dam finally shattered and your tears finally started to fall with an unbridled ferocity. You slumped forward, cradling the trooper’s body closer to your chest. You mourned the life you had just met and now would never get to know. You lamented the bright light the galaxy didn’t deserve yet was given anyway, only to snuff it out without a second thought.

He didn’t even have a name yet…

The sound of a throat clearing startled you out of your mournful reverie, and you whipped around to see the head medic standing behind you, hands on his hips. You were suddenly aware of the very compromising position you were in, with a dead trooper’s body in your lap and his limp hand in yours, his chest and abdomen exposed.

“I-I… h-he was…” You stuttered, attempting to save any face you had left. “H-he asked me to…”

“No need to apologize,” the head medic told you; it was only then that you realized he was smiling. “As a medic, your main job is to provide the troopers comfort in their darkest moments. And from what I can see, you provided whatever comfort you could during this trooper’s final darkest moment. Be proud of yourself for that.” His expression tightened as he pointedly glanced at the surrounding terrain. “The battle is over. Come - we must count the dead and treat the injured.”

You nodded decisively and looked down at the rapidly cooling trooper in your arms. You didn’t understand how anyone could appear so peaceful in death, yet he looked as if he was only sleeping. You took some solace in knowing that you were the reason for that peace, that you gave him a comforting memory to leave with. With trembling hands, you gently lowered his body to the ground and folded his hands above his blasted abdomen. You hoped with all of your heart that someone would come by and give him the burial he deserved. Well, you could get his serial designation number and find out for yourself later.

With one last sigh, you got to your feet and made to follow the head medic. At the last second, you glanced back over your shoulder at the deceased trooper and sang one last line under your breath:

It’s time for us to leave you.

—————

I want to believe that at least some troopers were comforted during their final moments. They deserve that much.

Here’s the song:

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.3 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

Marching on

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, Reader gets yelled at, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

“Quicken that pace battalion, this isn't some training course on Kamino!” 

If you had to hear one more fucking command from Krell, you may just inject him with all the painkillers in your pack.

It’s been almost 4 hours of his self-importance. You were patient, but by all the gods in existence you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Fives scoffed next to you, “The uh…new General has a way with words.” His tone was directed at Rex, who had wanted you at the front of the march with him. 

His reasoning for such a formation? ‘Keep an eye on the supplies’. In reality? ‘to protect you.’

The clone captain looked to the ARC trooper, “He's just trying to keep us on schedule.”

“By raising everyone’s ire?” You leaned forward slightly to look over at your lover. You didn’t mean to give him any grief, but it was a good question. Just what was Krell hoping to achieve by annoying everyone?

“Either way he's in charge, and we got a job to do.” Rex responded taking your question in stride, “Treat him with respect and we'll all get along fine.”

You sighed, “As long as that respect is mutual.”

“You know we don’t always get that luxury.” The captain looked at you. You could practically feel his disapproving gaze through his visor.

You backed down, not wanting to stress him out any more than he already was, “I know…I know…just…” With another sigh, you gave him a soft smile, “Just want to keep you and everyone else safe.”

“Especially me?” Fives chimed in, a smirk clear in his voice. 

You snorted, “Yes Fives, especially you.”

Rex let out a soft laugh, “That’s enough chatter. We need to focus.” 

“Speaking of.” The ARC trooper nudged the captain and pointed upward, “Do you see that?”

In the distance, two glowing…beasts were flying directly towards your battalion. They had impressive speed as they descended quickly. Their bodies were triangular, with bioluminescent under bellies and spiked tails.

“Yea, ready your weapons!” Rex commanded, pulling his pistols. The other troopers followed his lead. The barrage of blaster fire began as soon as one of them swooped, yanking an ARF trooper, Jock, from his AT-RT. It turned sharply and let go, slamming the clone downward into the ground.

You heard the crack through the blasters.

The second dove and grabbed a trooper behind you. He cried out in pain and fear as it flew upward again, taking him from the ground. The shots continued and you got up from the speeder to tend to the down ARF trooper. 

You didn’t make it far, as the first glowing beast made a second swoop aiming for you. Jesse, to his credit, did a wonderful job of protecting you by tackling you to the ground for the second time in a rotation, “Oh no you don’t!” He growled, aiming his gun upward and firing. 

The bioluminescent creature dodged every shot and made another turn, lifting upward to make another pass. 

“Thanks, second time you saved me.” You nodded to him, getting up and rushing to Jock. His leg was broken, fibula stabbing through broken plastoid. Immediately you administered painkillers. This poor man was probably in agony.

Krell had quickly disposed of the second. The Jedi had leapt upward and ripped the beast's claws open, dropping the other trooper. His size and weight worked to the advantage as the animal couldn’t lift. 

The two of them hit the ground where the besalisk stabbed both his lightsabers through its torso. It died with a high pitched screech before Krell sliced the last one as it tried to swoop, bringing it down as well. 

Rex and Fives kept their guns pointed at the beast, but the new General shouted, “anyone else want to stop and play with the animals!?” He punctuated his point by driving his foot down on the creature's body. It jerked before going still, “Didn’t think so. Now keep moving!”

You huffed, turning back to the soldier, “I got you.” Your voice was kind and soft, “I’m not going anywhere, OK?”

He nodded, gloved hands trembling and gripping his thigh. Even with the painkillers, you knew he must’ve been feeling like absolute hell. 

“Jesse,” You looked up at the senior trooper, “Can you get the speeder please?” The soldier needed surgery, but you couldn’t do it here. Not in the open. 

He saluted and quickly stepped away. 

“How bad?” Kix asked, pulling off his pack and kneeling next to you. He remained calm, despite the earlier excitement, “Damn, Jock. Don’t worry. We got you.”

“We are moving!” Krell shouted somewhere behind you. 

“Give us a few minutes!” you snapped, not looking up as you worked. “Help me stabilize the leg, I can't fix it here.”

“We have bacta and medication to deal with any infections later.” the medic beside you nodded, “Get a splint in place.”

“North, take his AT-RT,” You heard Fives’ command the ARF trooper you treated earlier. As soon as the ARC troopers words were spoken, North had gotten up from the stretcher as Jesse approached with the speeder. While you would have preferred him to rest, that currently wasn’t an option. Thankfully, he was at least conscious enough to operate a vehicle. 

Plus, leaving behind a perfectly functional and even devastating weapon in the hands of the enemy was a very bad idea.

Jock was trembling. Pain and shock from staring at his broken leg most likely. Even hardened soldiers would panic at the sight of one of their bones stabbing outside of their body, “Hey Jock, don’t worry. We got you, ok?” You shifted slightly, lowering your face so he’d pay attention to you and not his wound.

“Troopers!” 

“Can you not fucking see-!” a heavy hand yanked you back and to your feet. You stumbled, but kept upright. 

Krell was glaring at you, a fire of wrath in his eyes,“I told you, we. are. Moving! Do not ignore a direct order!” 

Now it was your turn to be enraged, “Respectfully, General, my priority is to the wellbeing of this army. It is my duty as a field doctor to help them when they’re injured. Surely as a jedi you understand the importance of duty.” You kept your eyes on him, refusing to look away. 

Arguing with your General normally wasn’t an option. However, in your training it was emphasized that your rank as a medic held special privileges, such as ignoring orders that may inhibit you from caring for the wounded.

But something told you that the Jedi in front of you didn’t really care.

You didn’t see how Hardcase held Rexs’ arm, doing his best to keep the captain from making a grave mistake. He was normally able to think clearly and not let his emotions dictate his decisions. Unless it came to you. The one he loved so dearly.

The new General huffed and straightened his back, “You have 60 seconds to get him stabilized and loaded on to the stretcher,” He clasped his arms behind him again and began to walk to the front, he turned his head back at you, “Next time, I will not stand for such insubordination, because it is my duty to lead these troops so the Republic can take the capital of this planet.” 

You swallowed and saluted, turning back to Jock. With the help of Kix and Jesse, the injured trooper was situated on the stretcher. You gave him another dose of painkillers and let him drift off to sleep. 

“You can tell the General we had 20 seconds to spare.” You grumbled to Fives, getting back on your speeder. Within minutes a formation was established again. Your pace was with the men, staying behind Rex, Fives and Krell. 

“Are you ok?” Kix asked as he walked next to you. 

“Yes.” You rubbed your face in your hand, ignoring the small sting of the blaster burn to your cheek. You still hadn’t dealt with it yet. 

Your medic friend patted your back in sympathy. He shared your frustrations. 

Anakin would never have pulled you away from tending to the injured. He would have knelt down and helped you, or had his lightsabers ready to protect you. His padawan would have done the same, perhaps even go after whoever injured the trooper to begin with. 

But Anakin wasn’t here. Neither was Ahsoka. Instead, you were stuck with Pong fucking Krell. 

About an hour later Rex had slowed his pace to walk next to you, “Mesh’la.” He spoke softly, making sure no one else could hear, “You haven’t dealt with the cut on your cheek.” 

Oh. Right, you keep forgetting about it. 

“It’s alright.” You gave him a small smile, “the men are going to need all the bacta they can get. A tiny scratch like this doesn’t matter.” 

He remained silent for a moment before shaking his head, “Please be careful, the men need you.” His words hid the true meaning, from everyone except you. 

I need you. 

“I am, Captain.” You answered, “You just promise me you’ll stay alive to lead us.” 

Please don’t become one of the injured I have to treat. 

“I promise.” His hand twitched. He wanted so badly to cup your injured cheek and kiss it better. But not right now. Not around others. Not in such a hostile place.

“Captain Rex.” Your voice became quieter, “Ner kar’ta.” 

“Ner narser.” He whispered back before straightening up. Your lover became the captain again, needing to focus on the mission at hand. Still, to hide your relationship, he spoke slightly louder, letting others hear, “you can’t disobey orders again, understood?” 

You nodded, “yes, Captain. It won’t happen again,” Subtly, you gave him a smile. 

He returned to his position closer to Krell after that. However, occasionally he’d cast a quick glance back at you. 

After about an hour, you heard some whispered chatter behind you. Looking back, you noticed a trooper, Oz, leaning against Tup and limping. You gave him a look of confusion and slowed the speeder to get next to them.

“It's nothing to worry about, Doc.” Oz informed you, “Just…probably twisted my ankle when that beast dropped me.” It was a clear lie. From your perspective it looked more like something had fractured in his knee.

Your gaze drifted to Jock, soundly knocked out on the stretcher. Why are so many soldiers getting leg injuries? 

“Regardless, we can’t know the true extent unless I get a proper look.” your gaze drifted to Krell. The bastard would flip out if he knew you stopped again. Still, Oz needed to get off that leg, “Take the speeder.”

“Doc?”

“You’ve used one right? It's easy.” You slipped off of the vehicle and pushed it along before Oz or anyone could argue, “Take it, at least to rest the ankle.” 

He paused but Tup pulled him slightly, “Come on, doctor's orders.” 

Without much more fuss, the injured trooper did as you directed. He sat down and let out a small sigh of relief, “Thank you.” clearly he hid his pain behind soldier bravado.

You nodded, deciding to walk next to Tup for now. Your eyes went to North, making sure he seemed alert and aware. For now, the ARF trooper was recovering from his wounds well, getting some weight off your shoulders. Still, everyone needed a breather. It's been about five hours since they started marching and while clones had stellar endurance, they would need a break at some point.

You kept your eyes ahead, focusing on the backs of those in front of you. It was a few hours later when your thoughts were interrupted.

“Are you ok, Doc?” Tup asked you quietly. 

You couldn’t hide the irritation in your voice, “You are the second person to ask me that within the last few hours. Do I not look ok?” He seemed startled at your response and you honestly felt bad. Poor Tup was barely a shiny, so you sighed and nodded, “Just thinking, Tup. I'm alright.” 

Before he could respond, Hardcase draped his arm over your shoulder, “Hey Doc, I got a cut on my lip. Can you kiss it to make it better?”

You snorted, repressing your laugh. Sometimes the soldiers would flirt and joke, all in good fun. Hardcase was especially friendly, knowing went to chime in to lift the mood. Honestly, you appreciated it. 

Tup looked downright offended on your behalf, “Hardcase!” 

Jesse looked back from his position. Even under the helmet you knew he was looking confused. 

“Whatever happens next, I am not a part of it.” you responded with a shrug, looking ahead. 

“See? The doc doesn’t care, ease up.” Now the hyperactive trooper moved on to leaning against Tup. the two bickered quietly as you continued to walk. However, over time their voices died down.

It was around the 12th hour when you realized the silence was from exhaustion. Everyone, including you, was barely hanging on by a thread. The clone endurance you praised earlier had finally hit its limit.

“Kix,” You stepped up next to him, “Tell Captain Rex that we need a break.” your voice was a hushed whisper. You feared if Krell heard you make the request, he’d push the men even harder out of spite. 

The medic agreed with you and sped up his pace to speak to Rex. You, however, fell back next to the medical speeder and checked on the injured. Oz had been doing a good job at controlling the thing, though you could tell his leg was still bothering him. Jock was still out cold, you and Kix periodically checked to make sure he didn’t wake up in agony. North remained coherent and aware as well, he piloted the AT-RT as if he had never been injured, indicating the bacta you’d given him was working well. 

Your observations came to a halt as Krell’s voice pierced the air, “CT-7567 are you reading me?”

“Excuse me, sir?” Your secret lover sounded as confused as everyone was feeling. 

The jedi continued, “I ask you a question, CT-7567 do you understand the need to adhere to my strategy?” Blessedly, he stopped to continue to yell at Rex. Despite how you felt at your lover being targeted so viciously, at least the men had something of a breather. And Rex was a man, he could take an angry General. 

The clone captain shook his head, trying to reason, “Sir, the terrain is extremely hostile, despite the difficulty of the conditions the battalion is making good time. These men just need a little break.” It was a desperate attempt to get some kind of humanity out of the besalisk. 

The General practically snarled and continued his verbal assault, “Captain, do I need to remind you of this battalion’s strategic mission in conquering this planet?” He motioned over all the soldiers behind him, “Look back, see those platoons? Their mission is to take this city and take it swiftly, time and rest are luxuries the Republic cannot afford!” Krell didn’t give up just yet, leaning forward an inch away from the captain's face, “The other battalions are counting on our support, if we fail everyone fails. Do you understand this? Does everyone understand this?!” His yelling was now directed at everyone around him. His critical gaze roamed over the battalion practically challenging anyone to speak up.

When there was only silence, he scoffed and turned, continuing his steps, “Now move on!”

Rex’s shoulders slumped slightly, but quickly, he returned to his stiff and professional posture. With a glance back and a nod, the 501st began to march again.

You shared a look with Hardcase and continued. It was going to be another long few hours of exhausted silence before you stopped again.

[lbibliophile-sw]

Proof of ID

Also on AO3 [710w] @ailesswhumptober - day 20: accidental de-aging, "I'm not qualified for this shit" @corrieweek - day 3: "you shouldn't be here"

Fox lets himself slump as he climbs into the covered Guard speeder, finally escaping the top-priority meeting on… whatever it was. Thorn and Thire were also there – a waste, of resources, honestly, thankfully Stone was able to escape – so they can catch him up on anything actually important. It’s not like the natborns listen to their advice half the time anyway.

“Hey Fox, are you ok? Only, you were quieter than usual in there.”

“’m fine, Thire. Just tired.”

And he is, down to his bones. The sort of tired that comes from a multi-day blackout mission that has him ‘waking up’ only to face the entirety of his usual gruelling double shift ahead of him. He wants nothing more than to collapse on his bunk for a solid six hours, but instead, he has meetings, and datawork backlog, and whatever else comes up… Just the mere thought is enough for him to remove his helmet and rub at his aching eyes.

“Trooper!” Fox stiffens reflexively at Thorn’s Command voice, despite having spent the past two years as the highest-ranked clone on-planet. “Why are you wearing Commander Fox’s armour?”

Fox blinks at him, struggling to push his sluggish brain into gear. Why… is he wearing… his armour? Because it’s his? And he’s on duty?

“Oh! Is Fox alright? I mean, obviously not, since he sent you in his place. But I’m assuming he’s with Zontal? Or wait, is he not all back yet after the blackout? It has been longer than usual so I guess that might be a struggle.”

What?

“I have to say, you did a pretty good job of copying his body language. Until you took the helmet off, I really did think that it was just Fox having an off day; most people wouldn’t have noticed anything at all! How would you feel about being on call for a repeat performance? Anything to get Fox to rest occasionally.”

“Thire!” Thorn finally forces his way through the babbling. “Just, shut up. And you’re going straight to bunk when we get back, your triple-shift is showing. Now, Trooper, sitrep. And your name.”

“Uh, Fox?” It shouldn’t sound like a question – his name is the one answer he does have right now – but shouldn’t they know it too?

“It’s ok, you don’t have to keep pretending here. We sweep the speeders for bugs, and we already know you’re covering for him, besides –”

“Thire, enough. Let the shiny speak.”

“I’m not a shiny.” Thorn snorts.

“Maybe not a shiny, then. But you still can’t be more than, what, eight? Nine at a stretch?”

“I’m thirteen. I’m Fox. And you’re being mean. If this is revenge for saving your shebs when you tried to block that Senator’s access because you thought she was her own daughter…”

“What did you just say? No, seriously, I made Fox swear to never tell anyone about that.”

“I keep telling you I am Fox. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ok. Ok. So, not body doubles, but Force osik. Maybe.” Thorn rummages in his belt pouches as he mutters to himself, finally pulling out some sort of case with a bright metal finish. “Here. I’m having a hard time believing you, because this is what you look like right now.”

Fox takes the case, holding it up so the smooth surface shows his reflection. He twists it back and forwards just to make sure. He raises his free hand to trace the smooth skin of his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, watching the movement in the improvised mirror.

“Thorn. Thorn, someone stole my face.”

Thire reaches back to awkwardly pat him on the knee.

“Look on the bright side, at least you still have your helmet. You keep it on most of the time anyway.”

“But it was my face!”

“Alrighty,” Thorn interrupts the impeding meltdown. He is in a speeder with three-quarters of Coruscant Guard Command, he should not be having flashbacks to Kamino and cadet-duty. “I’m driving us back to base. Then you two are going to go to sleep, while I have an adult conversation with Zontal to try and figure this out. Any further discussion can wait until after those steps are completed. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes Thorn.”

[geektrooper25]

Saw some people saying how Anakin has fallen to the "dark" side in this scene but to me it's not as simple because war changes you.

When you first lost someone, it broke you and you doubt yourself if you are doing the right thing, just like Ahsoka is feeling here.

But as you continue to lose more people you realise that it's inevitable and you "shield" yourself from getting hurt emotionally.

Because you don't have time to wallow in self-pity reflecting on your actions when there are people who are still depending on you.

People under your command looking up to you to lead them, people you're supposed to protect waiting for your arrival to rescue.

Every second you hesitate, more lives are lost. And he's trying the best he can to save as many lives as quickly as possible.

As much as he want to protect every single one of his men from dying, he realised it's impossible with enemies on every side.

The more time you spend mourning the lives that have been lost, the less time you have to save the lives of others that are in danger.

That's what Anakin is trying to tell Ahsoka in this scene but he could not find the right words because his mind is all messed up by the war.

You can see how tired he looks by the never ending war and how affected he is by it but pretends it didn't bother him in order to lead.

He even uses humour as a defense mechanism so those around him does not fell to despair and depression by the senseless war.

He's frustrated that Ahsoka does not get what he is trying to teach her as he doesn't want to lose her like the clone troopers.

Nobody wants to fight but the enemy doesn't care about that and will continue killing whether or not you lay down your weapon.

So what else can you do in such situations when the politicians failed to reach a peaceful solution? If you stop fighting, then what happens to the people are being attacked and killed by the enemy?

That's one thing I love about this flashback scene as it shows you the horrors of war in a span of a few minutes that you do not see in the Clone Wars animated series.

After all the things he had seen on the battlefield, you understand how he lost faith in the Jedi and the Republic, finally pushing him off the edge in Revenge of the Sith.

Palpatine conveniently orchestrated the whole saga, even removing Ahsoka and Obi-Wan from his side, to isolate him from the others so he could make his move on Anakin.

That's what Palpatine has been planning all along, to push Anakin into the brink of despair just so he could push him off easily to the dark side and gave in to the dark side.

[amityahasfanartnowapparently]

That Time Fox's Fat Tits Saved The Galaxy - Chapter 8 - Amity Ax - (INTRO ONLY)

Hello! Chapter 8 is still very very VERY much in progress, but I got inspired to release the first two pages early. Think of it as an early holiday present :D

If you'd rather save it for when the whole chapter is out on ao3, DON'T look under the cut ;)

Also DISCLAIMER: this intro is liable to change at some point while I'm editing everything else. And consider all the tags in my fic applicable to this post too. You've been warned.

DroidBoy6969:

ok, like, I get why everybody is talking about the tits. I really do. don’t get me wrong, they’re great tits!! but that ass needs some appreciation too! Just LOOK at it! the MUSCLES, the ROUNDNESS, the TIGHT AS KARK PANTS—it has EVERYTHING

TallMannSpotted:  @DroidBoy6969 YESSS I want to be those pants <3 <3 <3

whats_love090992:  @DroidBoy69 if this is a non-tits appreciation post, I’d like to give an honorable mention to the arms and back. Hot damn. I want him to pick me up and snap me in half like a 2x4. And that v-line in the front… *chef’s kiss* Perfect. Phenomenal. Breathtaking.

xXx_R4nc0rD3str0y3r_xXx: @DroidBoy6969 get out of here butt boy this is a tit-man only site!!!!

[See 21938451 more replies]

Unfortunately_YourMother:

everyone unfollow me right now this is going to be the only thing I’m gonna post about from now on. fuck. shit. Ohmygawdzzz

kenobis_glistening_abs444:

HUGE W for the war effort that this absolute UNIT be out here serving the people, if u know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

KittyqueeN:

No joke, I just clocked out for like an hour watching this guy run on repeat. the kriffing bounce is like… hypnotic. Literal drool down my face rn. I can feel the heft of those bonkers in my SOUL

dontlookatme.:

b…boobies…

cock_expert_420001:

Look, I’ll pay any amount, PLEASE more content like this @TheRepublic. I could feel myself becoming roughly 50% more patriotic just watching this compilation

ZDprofessional:

YESSS YES YES YEEEAAAS!!! OHHH MY GODS. OH MY GODDSSS BROOOOO!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I ALSDGJDkjfifherALSDGJKHAG GRRRRRR!!!!! GRRRARRAARRRGRGRG! BRGRGRGRaaaAAAAAARRAR!GGRRGAA! I’M CRAZZY IM CRAZY IM CRAZY. YOU HAVE NO IDEAA YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!!!!! sorry ok. I’m normal now. cool tits.

NautilaRulz:  @ZDprofessional Dude.

TiLeavesComments:  @ZDprofessional somebody get this fine gentlebeing some water. they’re about to die of Thirst

RyurayguYuhahyrrararr:  @ZDprofessional rabies core

[See 103020 more replies]

H00tH00tMutherfarker:

I can’t believe this is real. What are they FEEDING this one to make knockers like that??? He’s got some Enormous Boobs. Absolutely Perfect Pecs. A Rockin’ Pair of Hooters. A Prize-Winning Set of Black Melons. Some Tasty Teats. A Couple of Family-Sized Milk Jugs. Some Bountiful Baps. Some Gorgeous Gazoingas…[read more]

JustSomeGuy:

Listen, I get that everybody is horny about this, but I’d like to say that this trooper is like, actually NUTS. I went back to the OG video and timed it, he was in a dead sprint for like a full HOUR. The next time you’re out of breath climbing the stairs, remember this man’s existence and weep in shame. 

NotMyOrder:

Clones really do be built different…

Drgahamne14156994:

Hello, I’m Dr. Garm Hamne. I’m a doctor from Corellia and earn 600k annually. I’m looking for a sugar baby who…[read more]

TheCommenterrrrrr:

Screaming crying throwing up I need him to choke me

FoShadeDingKing!!:

Damn where do I gotta go to spend the night with one of those

RRoller:

This is fake. You bantha-brained morons are falling for a government plant. This has sphotoshop written all over it.

N3varG0naGiv3:  @RRoller It’s OK bro, just count backwards from 10 while you inhale the copium. It’ll be over in a snap :)

U_Up?:  @RRoller because that’s what I’D do if I was trying to sphotoshop a government-approved thirst trap into looking so good it brainwashes the minds of millions. I’d make the trooper running laps in the back of the vid busty enough to belong in an art museum instead of using editing magic to make the group of buff, sweaty men duking it out in the foreground look like living gods. what a totally reasonable conclusion you’ve come to 

Nvr_Gn4_Letudwn:  @RRoller bruh just grow up and admit you wanna fuck him so bad it makes you looks stupid XD

[See 348079 more replies]

[badbatchdalorian]

Missing Piece - Part 2: A Strange Phenomenon

MEDIA: The Bad Batch (2021-2024), The Mandalorian (2019-2023) CHARACTERS: The Bad Batch & Din Djarin (Young) RATING: T (14+) TAGS: not canon compliant, PTSD, trauma, childhood trauma, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, family fluff, Tech lives, protective siblings (more here) SUMMARY: In this galaxy far, far away, it's experimental unit Clone Force 99 that saves Din Djarin instead of the Mandalorians, forever altering not only his fate, but also their own. How they manage to survive with not one, but two young soldiers-in-training under their wings proves just how far they're willing to go to keep their family's missing piece as close as possible. cross-posted from ao3, where updates are more frequent

PART 2: A Strange Phenomenon

Tech had already observed that Echo’s bunk was vacant when he woke for his watch shift, and thus it was not a surprise when he discovered that their adolescent passenger, Din, was in the cockpit with Echo. What was quite shocking was the fact that the child had managed to fall asleep in a less-than-ideal position, with his whole body curled into the seat.

Echo, however, had not joined Din in slumber, which—given his current responsibility in keeping watch—was optimal.

“I cannot imagine he will be pleased when he wakes,” Tech spoke into the open air, keeping his tone quiet enough to avoid rousing the boy. Echo spun around in his chair to face him. “That position has a high likelihood of causing unpleasant muscular strains.”

“Ah, he’s young.” Echo waved his hand. “His muscles are more relenting than ours.”

Tech rolled his shoulders, which contained an ever-present soreness as a result of his long hours spent staring down at his datapad, projects, and other tasks. “That… is a fair point.” He used his finger to push his goggles up his nose. “Well, at least you now have your bunk to return to.”

Echo rose from his seat and grimaced. He mumbled so quietly that Tech had to ponder whether Echo truly meant for his brother to hear his words or not. “If I can even get any sleep.”

Echo looked down at Din’s sleeping form, and the corners of his mouth rose. He pressed his hand gently against the boy’s shoulder before he stepped away and nodded at Tech.

“Try to keep him asleep, yeah?” Tech could easily identify the dark familiarity in Echo’s eyes as he patted Tech’s armored shoulder on the way out. “It’s a miracle he’s even sleeping after something like this.”

Tech simply returned his nod, uncertain of what to say. He was, of course, aware of Echo’s own tragedies, particularly because he played a key role in the ARC trooper’s survival, but it was not a subject that was broached often, if ever.

As for Tech, it was not something he was familiar with. Not in the slightest.

Tech eyed the child warily as he took his place in the pilot’s chair, and for some odd reason, he cleared his throat. He immediately winced to himself, all too aware of how that sound could have accomplished exactly what Echo had endeavored to avoid: rousing the child.

Thankfully, however, the boy did not stir. In fact, by Tech’s quick observations, it appeared as if he was only entering a deeper stage of slumber. His eyelids had started to flutter, indicative of him entering his REM cycle.

Tech gave his head a curious tilt. He could not imagine that those dreams would be pleasant, but so far, Din seemed to be at peace. He shrugged to himself and set his attention on his datapad.

They were making sufficient progress to their ultimate destination on Coruscant. Tech was not thrilled to divert from their original path, particularly given the fact they had been away from Kamino for more rotations than even Tech had bothered to memorize. He did, however, understand the rationale as to why it was happening.

Unfortunately, Tech did not… feel very good about it. Which was strange, considering Tech was certainly not one to operate off of mere feelings as opposed to staunch facts.

When Tech chanced another glance over at Din’s tiny sleeping form, that feeling intensified. It was a strange phenomenon. Searching for a proper explanation, Tech ruminated over what could possibly be causing this sensation, especially when he himself knew nothing of such tragedy and loss.

That was precisely when a memory reemerged, the only one Tech could associate with such heavy feelings.

Tech tapped through his datapad, committing details about their upcoming mission to memory—including all the information he could gather about the planet, its population, and its history. He was in the middle of a fascinating report from nearly two-hundred cycles ago when he first heard the muffled sound emerge from their bunks.

Instantly, Tech was alert, setting aside his datapad in favor of adhering to his duty of keeping watch. He suspected it was nothing more than one of his brothers having fitful rest, which certainly would not be the first time, but it was not a sound Tech was familiar with. That alone promised something unusual.

When Tech made his approach, he quickly concluded why the sound was unfamiliar. It was Echo, who had only just joined their squad, and he was very much awake. He was adjusting something on his scomp, seemingly ignoring the very distinct tear trails on his pale cheeks as he did so.

Tech hesitated. It was not often that he did so, but in a situation as delicate as this, with someone he had only just met, Tech calculated that it would be best to take an extra moment or two to decipher exactly how to approach the situation.

“Do you require assistance, Echo?”

Echo’s head snapped up to stare at Tech. He rubbed the sleeve on his organic arm against his face furiously and blinked a few times. “Oh, uh… sorry, Tech, I… didn’t…”

The ARC trooper was at a loss for words, it seemed. Tech assisted amidst his floundering.

“Your scomp.” Tech pointed at Echo’s mechanical arm. “Would you like a hand with that?”

Echo managed an amused huff. “Literally?”

Tech held a breath and glanced down at his own hands. “Unfortunately, no.” He offered Echo a polite smile. “I can, however, take a look at what may be bothering you.”

Echo sighed. Tech did not need to analyze the sound to sense how troubled it was. “I’m not sure this is something you can fix, Tech.”

Tech’s chin rose. “I am willing to try.”

Echo smiled, and this one was quite genuine. He let out a softer breath and nodded. “Alright. But let’s go back to the cockpit.” He swung his legs out from his bunk, and Tech gave him the proper room to maneuver himself to his feet. “I’m not really willing to wake one of ‘em up during my first week here.”

“That is a wise choice.” Tech pointed a single finger up as he led Echo back to the cockpit. “The last time one of them was roused during their REM cycle, a punch was delivered.”

Echo’s brow shot up. “Who did that to who?”

“Allow me to spare you the details.”

“Fair enough.” Echo chuckled.

Tech sat back in the pilot’s chair, and Echo took the co-pilot’s chair beside him. Tech made a motion for Echo’s scomp, though the ARC trooper hesitated before settling the cool metal inside Tech’s grasp.

“According to my quick observations, everything looks normal.” Tech’s gaze flickered over the scomp, searching for something amiss—though he failed to find it.

“Yeah…” Echo sighed again. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m just… getting used to it.” Echo’s gaze shifted to the viewport, where the blue flashes of hyperspace were still illuminating the small space. “To all of it.”

Tech let go of Echo’s scomp and adjusted his goggles. “I can imagine that returning to reality from such a state of stasis is a difficult endeavor.” He paused. “Would you like to elaborate?”

Echo’s eyes fell closed. “It’s not just that.” A pained furrow knit in the ARC trooper’s brow. “It’s what happened while I was… gone. All the things that I missed.” His voice shook. “All the brothers I lost.”

Tech deflated. He glanced down, as if the floor of the cockpit would have something to assist him in this difficult conversation. He was not so fortunate.

“I lost my last batchmate.”

Tech’s attention immediately returned to Echo as the ARC trooper spoke again. His voice was even more fragile than it had been before.

“He died while I was trapped on Skako Minor. He… never knew I survived.” Echo’s breath hitched. “And I never got to be there to protect him from death.”

Tech caught sight of a new tear falling from Echo’s closed eyes, due to it reflecting the bright lights of hyperspace. He tightened his lips and reached forward to set a hand on Echo’s shoulder. The ARC trooper’s eyes reopened.

“It is not your fault, Echo.” Tech, as usual, focused on the facts, and he used them to comfort Echo the best he could. “Every clone created is aware of the sacrifices that must be made in this conflict. Your brother was aware of that when he thought you had perished, and there is no doubt he embraced that when his time arrived.”

Echo’s stare fell again, and Tech watched as his eyes darted around the small space. His voice was so low and haunted when he spoke that Tech had to strain to hear him over the thrum of hyperspace. “Rex said he was killed by another clone.”

Tech could not help giving Echo’s shoulder a squeeze as his eyes widened. That... was certainly an unusual thing to hear.

“He said that Fives wasn’t… that something was wrong with him at the end.” Echo closed his eyes again. “He was going through something that Rex still doesn’t understand, and he had even attacked the chancellor.” Echo shook his head. “And I wasn’t there for him, to help him through whatever was going on.”

“Because you were captured by the Separatists.” Tech was quick to provide more facts. “Had they not apprehended you and turned you into… this, then you truly would have perished at the Citadel.” Tech’s chest began to ache with a sensation he certainly wasn’t used to, but he surmised that it was a sad type of sympathy. “There was nothing you could have done for him.”

Echo’s eyes opened. His stare was empty as it focused on the systems displayed in front of him. “Yeah, you’re right.” He exhaled a heavy breath and gave his head another aimless shake. “But that doesn’t make losing him any easier.”

Tech frowned. Acutely aware that his factual data was not providing a solution, he withdrew his hand from the ARC trooper’s shoulder. “I apologize, Echo. I’m afraid you may have been correct before.” He pushed his goggles up his nose. “I am uncertain of how to remedy this.” Tech glanced over his shoulder to look towards the bunks. “Particularly because I have never experienced such loss.”

“Good.”

That time, it was Echo who set his hand on Tech’s shoulder. Tech was at least pleased to see that Echo’s gaze had brightened more than before, which meant that something had certainly been fixed.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to keep it that way, for all of you.” Echo nodded, the lines of his face set in palpable determination. “I never want you to have to go through what I’ve been through—and what I’m still going through.”

Tech nodded, uncertain of how else to respond. Echo gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“And thank you, Tech. You’ve helped more than you realize. Talking about it may hurt, but it lightens the load, bit by bit.” Echo managed a small smile. “Thanks for giving me the space to do that.”

Tech could only blink at Echo. Again, he was uncertain of what to say. With a mind that primarily thought in technicalities and factual data, it was difficult to make sense of something as elusive as feelings.

By the time Echo headed back to his bunk, however, Tech could not help but feel accomplished by whatever he had achieved, because it clearly had worked.

As Tech blinked down at the small adolescent in the chair beside him, he finally understood what this strange feeling was.

It was that same, sad sympathy he had felt for Echo.

For a moment, Tech looked over his shoulder, his stare attempting to follow Echo’s path. He wondered if the ARC trooper was in need of a listening ear once again, given how the rescue of this boy likely brought up those old, unpleasant memories.

Echo, however, had not asked for such assistance, and Tech was soon too occupied by the boy stirring at his side.

Tech’s eyes widened in an odd sort of panic as he watched Din lift his head. His eyelids were hooded by drowsiness, though they soon flew open as Din observed Tech sitting next to him.

“Where’d Echo go?” Din asked, his soft voice somewhat roughened by his slumber.

“Echo is hopefully headed to get some rest. I am supplanting his position so that he may do so.” Tech lifted his brow at the boy. “You ought to do the same.”

Din shifted in the seat, pulling his knees towards his chest as he wrapped his arms around his legs. Tech observed that the boy was growing more timid. “I don’t really want to go back to sleep again.”

“Why is that?” Tech gave Din a thoughtful once-over. “Is it because of the difficulties this chair is giving you? I had warned Echo about that. My bunk is now available should you wish to rest there instead.”

“No.” Din sniffed, and Tech inched himself closer to see tears lining the boy’s lashes. “I don’t want to see it again.”

“See what, exactly?”

Din buried his face into his legs, causing his voice to be muffled as he responded. “Those droids.”

“Oh.” That feeling gnawed at Tech’s chest again. He called upon his memory with Echo as he folded his gloved hands over his middle. “Perhaps talking about it would help?”

Din lifted his head to give Tech a wary look. “How?”

Tech thought for a moment before he shrugged. “I am not certain. I do know, however, that Echo has told me before that speaking about such things can be helpful, albeit painful.” He gave the boy a firm nod. “I will listen should you wish to tell me.”

Din seemed to ponder Tech’s words as he watched hyperspace flicker all around them. For Tech, it was quite reminiscent of that moment spent with Echo long ago. “Okay.” Din’s jaw tightened as he fixated his stare on Tech again. “I’ll try.”

Tech nodded, fully rotating his chair in Din’s direction. He leaned forward as well, further assuring the boy that he had his full attention.

Din watched his fingers as they picked at something on the fabric of his trousers. “It happened so fast. My parents heard the ship first, but the shooting started almost right after that.”

The boy began to rush through his words. Tech did not mind; it fit with the typical speed of his thoughts.

“We thought we’d be safe at home, but my father looked outside and saw that they were blasting doors open, so he picked me up and took my mother and I out the back door, and then we just kept running and running…”

Din’s voice began to tremble. Tech’s brow furrowed.

“It smelled like smoke, and some other stuff I’m not really sure about, and it was really loud.” Din sniffed again, wiping his face with the sleeve of his maroon robe. “My father kept saying I would be okay, but I kept seeing those droids…” he hiccuped, his voice growing quiet, “killing people.”

Din paused. Tech analyzed his expression and determined that he would be unable to speak for the time being, and so he endeavored to fill the space with facts that could potentially help.

“Unfortunately, that is what these battle droids do.” Tech adjusted his goggles as he pinpointed the correct facts to say. “Because they are not sentient beings, and they lack more personalization than many other droids, they do not have the potential to feel at all, much less understand what it means to take a life.”

Din blinked up at Tech, the corners of his mouth turned downward in a frown. “But why did they do it?” He shook his head. “We never did anything to them, Tech.”

Tech set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I am aware.” He gave it a soft squeeze. “They were acting on orders from the Separatists. It… can be difficult to understand what their motivations are at times, though your homeworld is far from the only to be attacked by them in such a manner.”

Din’s head lowered again. His lips were trembling, much like his voice. “If my parents hadn’t put me down there…”

He stifled a cry. Tech moved out of his chair to kneel beside Din.

“Why didn’t they save themselves, too?”

Tech was starting to feel crushed by this sensation inside of him, tightening his chest to the extent that even the simple act of inhaling and exhaling oxygen felt like a chore. He instead focused on giving Din’s shoulder another squeeze and supplying more facts that could assist.

“It is very likely that there was no possible scenario in which saving themselves would have also saved you.” Tech’s stare met Din’s when the boy lifted his head back up. “Their primary objective was to make sure you lived, and as you can see,” Tech’s free hand gestured to Din, “they succeeded.”

Din’s eyes searched Tech’s goggles. Tech’s head tilted at him.

“It is my personal belief that your parents would have wanted you to take advantage of the life they have given you, despite the fact they are no longer in it.”

Din’s tense body began to relax, and Tech smiled to himself at the visual evidence of him regaining his composure. The boy’s wet eyes blinked a few times at Tech. “I think you’re right.” He sniffed and wiped his face once again. “But I still miss them.”

“That is natural.” Tech patted Din’s shoulder before allowing his hand to fall back to his side. “It is evidence of the genuine care you have fostered for them, as is typical in a relationship between parents and their children.”

Tech scratched the back of his neck.

“This is, however, merely a hypothesis, as I have no such experience with a parent-child relationship.”

Din’s brow furrowed. He adjusted his position so that his small legs dangled off the side of the chair. “What do you mean?”

Tech rose enough to sit back down in his own chair again. “As clones, we do not have parents. We were all created from the same genetic template, a bounty hunter named Jango Fett. Fett, however, perished at the beginning of the war, and he did not care for us the way a parent would prior to that.”

Din’s stare fell to the floor. “That must be sad.”

Tech shrugged. “I cannot mourn something I never had.”

At Din’s continued silence, Tech rotated back to his datapad and navigated to the files he intended on reading through during his watch shift. Just before he could advise the child to seek proper rest, however, the boy spoke again. “Well, maybe one day you’ll have it.”

Tech’s brow shot up as he returned Din’s glance, which was quite sympathetic. “I believe I am far beyond the point of necessitating a parental relationship.”

Din looked away for a moment, his face scrunched up as if he were pondering another alternative, before his head snapped back towards Tech. “Maybe you’ll be the parent, then!”

Tech would have gladly filled Din in on why that was highly unlikely, considering that Tech was a soldier bred for war and was thus unable to ever have a family outside of his brothers. He was, however, struck with that strange feeling again, and it was powerful enough to stop him from doing what he did best: being honest.

Instead, Tech offered the hopeful boy a small smile. “Perhaps.” He looked back down at his datapad and let out a light breath. “For now, you should at least rest somewhere more suitable than this chair.”

Din shrunk down into the chair in Tech’s periphery. “But then you’ll be alone.”

Tech shrugged without looking away from his datapad. “That is fine. I am used to it, particularly during these watch shifts.”

Din’s voice was smaller the next time he spoke. “But then I’ll be alone.”

And there it was again, that strange phenomenon that made Tech’s chest tight. He ignored it, even if he did resolve to lighten the child’s worries. “No, you will not. The bunk room is currently occupied by the rest of the squad, and though they typically do not take kindly to being woken, I’m certain they will make an exception for you.”

Tech spared a quick glance at Din to see the boy’s shoulders lifting and his eyes brightening. After another moment’s hesitation, Din nodded and slid off the chair. “Okay, fine. You said I could use your bunk, right?”

“That is correct.”

Tech was about to put his full focus onto the datapad in his hand when Din added one more thing. “Thank you, Tech. For the bunk, and…” Din smiled, “for making me feel better.”

Tech looked at Din and smiled again when that unfamiliar warmth boiled over inside his chest. He offered the boy a firm nod. “You are most welcome.”

Din returned the smile before he walked out of the cockpit and headed for the bunks. Tech watched after him only for a moment, as he was eager to get back to his files.

Still, it took longer than usual for him to focus, as Tech’s thoughts were continuously pulled back to their young passenger. He quite liked Din’s curiosity; in a way, it reminded Tech of himself.

But there was nothing to do about it, so Tech eventually pushed the thoughts from his mind and set his full attention on the glowing vidscreen in front of him.

════════════════════

Crosshair didn’t have to share his eldest brother’s enhanced senses to hear the child’s small footsteps returning to the bunks.

Well, eldest if he wasn’t counting Echo, though Crosshair wasn’t sure yet on whether he was ready to consider the reg his brother or not. Echo was a hell of a soldier, certainly more than deserving of his ARC trooper rank, but Crosshair wasn’t blind to Echo’s level of integration with the squad. He was well aware that Echo was still adjusting to all of their deviant natures, particularly Crosshair’s severity.

Crosshair couldn’t, and didn’t really, blame Echo for that, but it still kept him wary. Until Echo could go toe-to-toe with him the way the others could, then Crosshair couldn’t count him as a true brother just yet.

It was why Crosshair was intrigued by the boy they had saved from that pitiful settlement. Din had been able to respond to Crosshair’s harsh attempt at a joke with the proper amount of amusement, which wasn’t the kind of first impression the sniper was used to. He had been ready for Hunter’s lecture on softening up his nature for the child, but Din honestly didn’t seem to mind.

Crosshair had to give him credit for that, and credit for catching the sniper’s intrigue in general. That was a hard thing to do.

Crosshair remained where he was in his bunk, but trained his eyes upon Din’s approaching figure. Kriff, he was tiny, but that was probably because Crosshair and the squad had gone too long since they had last seen—and been—cadets themselves. Din was likely the size of one, but something about the robe he wore swallowing him up just…

Crosshair’s train of thought stopped when he saw where Din was headed. A single eyebrow shot up as he looked between the child and Tech’s not-so empty bunk underneath his own.

There was no way Tech was actually sanctioning this.

Crosshair barely bit back his groan as he sat up and swung his legs off the bunk. He rested his elbows against his knees and spoke in his usual hiss, though it was quieter than usual to keep the others from waking up. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Din froze and whipped his head up, facing Crosshair with a concerned knit in his brow. “W-What do you mean?”

Crosshair gestured with his chin to Tech’s bunk. “Don’t go in there.”

Din blinked a few times before he jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “But Tech said I could…”

Crosshair snickered, causing Din to trail off. The sniper shook his head. He would never take Tech for a clueless person, but clearly, this was an oversight that even his closest brother’s exceptional mind was capable of making.

“You won’t get any sleep in there.” Crosshair hopped lightly onto his feet and turned around, peeling back the blankets to show Din what was underneath them.

Din’s eyes widened with both surprise and interest as his gaze flickered over the bunk. “Oh.” He stifled a giggle. “What’s all that stuff doing in his bed?”

Crosshair let out his own huff of amusement as he looked back at Tech’s assortment of stashed-away collectibles. It consisted of various tools, a small spare datapad, stray bolts, and other metallic items even Crosshair couldn’t identify.

“Who knows, kid.” Crosshair lowered the blankets again and rose from where he’d been kneeling. “I stopped asking him questions like that a long time ago.”

Din just shrugged before he looked hesitantly at all the other occupied bunks. “Is there anywhere else for me to go? Tech said I should sleep somewhere better than the chair I was in.”

Crosshair pursed his lips in consideration, but there was something else he needed to speak on before he could provide a solution. “Before we do that, you have to lower your voice more.”

He cut his gaze over to Hunter’s bunk across the way, which hung above Wrecker’s—though the latter’s snoring was probably keeping the sergeant’s sensitive ears occupied, anyway.

“Hunter’s enhanced senses could pick up the tone you’re using right now from at least a klick away.”

Din’s eyes widened in wonder. “Whoa ”

Crosshair was pleased to hear the boy’s voice lowered to the proper amount. He then let out a quiet sigh as he glanced up at his own bunk.

Well, he was already awake. No use trying to go back to sleep knowing this child was wandering aimlessly around the ship.

“Here.” Crosshair patted the bunk that was far above Din’s head. “Take mine.”

Din glanced up at Crosshair in disbelief. “But you’ll need your bunk, won’t you?”

Crosshair shrugged. “I was already awake. Might as well take the time in this peace and quiet to clean my rifle, which I can do from anywhere.”

Din continued to hesitate. He looked between Crosshair and the bunk a few times, just enough for the sniper to roll his eyes.

“Arms up.”

Crosshair’s command was curt enough for Din to obey without question. Crosshair grabbed the boy underneath his arms, remaining gentle while also maintaining the proper amount of firmness to lift him. The sniper set Din on the bunk and let out a dramatic exhale as he lowered his hands.

“There. Decision made.” Crosshair turned towards the nook where he kept his weapons kit. “Now get some sleep, before we wake Hunter up and get a lecture for it.”

The boy seemed to comply, based on the fact he didn’t respond. Crosshair could hear Din shuffling around in his military grade bedsheets while the sniper grabbed his rifle and his cleaning supplies. He shoved some of Tech’s stuff to the side, just enough to make room for Crosshair to sit there.

Crosshair kept his boots propped up against the floor as he rested his rifle along his thighs and busied himself with cleaning. After balancing a toothpick between his lips, he was almost fully dissociated into his calming work, but a small voice from above managed to break through his temporary reverie.

“Crosshair?”

The sniper stopped and sighed. He closed his eyes and curled his fingers around the rifle. “What?”

There was no response for a few heartbeats. Crosshair’s patience was starting to wear thin by the time Din spoke again. “Do you ever wish you had parents?”

Crosshair’s eyes widened unexpectedly at the question. “What…” he hissed and blinked a few times while shaking his head, “why are you asking me that?”

“Well,” the boy let out a soft breath, “Tech told me you guys don’t have parents. And…”

Din paused, his voice wilting as he went on.

“I don’t have parents anymore, either, so… I guess I just wanted to know how you guys do it.”

Something in Crosshair’s chest tightened so hard that he had to take a second to remind himself to breathe. The first part of that sensation was no doubt frustration as he made a mental note to reprimand Tech for telling a child about their… complicated situation as clones. The other, though, was something largely unfamiliar, something that tugged from his chest down through his gut, almost enough to make him sick.

Suddenly, Crosshair wanted to do whatever he could to put Din at ease. Even if it meant being more vulnerable than usual.

Not a smart tactic for a sniper, but this wasn’t a battlefield, and this child was clearly no adversary.

“I’ve never thought about it.” Crosshair stared down at the rifle in his hands and held it just a bit tighter. “Having my older brothers always felt like having parents, anyway. Especially with one as protective as Hunter.”

Din hummed thoughtfully from above him. Crosshair let out a quiet chuckle when it reminded him all too much of Tech. Just how much had Tech taught this boy during their brief time together?

“Are you the youngest?”

Crosshair sighed. He’d walked right into this one, but he never quite enjoyed being reminded that he was the youngest. He had heard enough of that from his brothers growing up. “Technically, yes.” Crosshair took up his rag and started cleaning the rifle again. “But in terms of the squad, Echo was the last to join, so…”

“Who’s the oldest? Is it Hunter?”

Crosshair smirked to himself. “It’s easy to tell with him, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Din seemed to muse upon something. “I think he’s a good older brother.”

Crosshair spared a look at Hunter’s bunk. His sharp eyes provided him with a clear view of Hunter’s closed eyes, proving the sergeant was still asleep before he responded. “I think so, too.”

“So, who’s next?”

Crosshair cut his eyes towards the cockpit. “Tech. Then Wrecker.”

“And then you.” Din still sounded much too excited for a boy who needed to sleep. “How old would Echo be if he wasn’t the last one to join the squad?”

“Older than all of us.”

Din inhaled a sharp breath. Crosshair leaned out enough to look up at his bunk and send the boy a warning glance. Din looked frantically towards Hunter’s bunk, but the sergeant still didn’t move. He let out a relieved exhale and lowered his voice even more than before.

“Sorry. Um… that just makes sense. Echo told me about his batchmates.”

Crosshair’s brow shot up. “He did?”

Not even Crosshair had heard about Echo’s batch yet, at least nothing significant. He tried to fight the sensation of betrayal that rippled through his chest. It was yet another reason why Crosshair still had to keep his walls up with Echo, just for now.

“Yup!” Din clearly didn’t pick up on Crosshair’s pitiful distress. “But it’s sad. He said a lot of them died on their first mission.”

Crosshair’s shoulders fell at that. He glanced up at Hunter and Wrecker sleeping across from him, and spared another look at the cockpit. He was suddenly swept by a wave of relief over the fact that he had never experienced such loss.

Crosshair never prayed, but he did plead to the stars right then that he would never have to experience it.

“Not a very cheery thought to have on your mind while you’re trying to sleep.”

Crosshair set his rifle aside and stood, turning to face his bunk. Din tensed as if he were in trouble, but the sniper simply reached forward to tuck the sheets closer to Din’s face and sides.

“Trust me, you don’t want to pull an all-nighter, kid.” Crosshair removed the toothpick for a moment and nodded. “You can ask us whatever questions you want once we’re all awake. Just get some rest.”

Din returned the nod, smiling before he tucked his chin closer to his chest and closed his eyes. Crosshair lingered for a moment, narrowing his eyes to make sure the boy wasn’t tricking him, but the sniper could tell by the steadying rise and fall of Din’s chest that he was truly beginning to fall asleep.

Crosshair picked up his rifle and turned towards the cockpit. He stopped, however, when he felt a new pair of eyes on him. His gaze shifted over to Hunter’s bunk, where he caught the sergeant’s watchful eye.

Crosshair resisted the urge to crawl out of his skin. Of course . If he was lucky, Hunter hadn’t heard much of that particularly vulnerable conversation. He braced himself for his older brother’s teasing and a lecture about why he was holding his rifle instead of sleeping.

But all Hunter did was flicker his gaze towards Din before nodding with a proud smile on his face. Crosshair’s brow wrinkled in confusion, but the sergeant was already turning away to focus on sleeping again, this time even slipping his bandana low enough to cover his eyes. Crosshair heaved a sigh of relief and trudged towards the cockpit.

Tech didn’t so much as flinch while Crosshair made his approach. He fell easily into the co-pilot’s chair and set his rifle on his legs once again, continuing with his task of cleaning.

“Do you have a proper explanation for why you are not indulging in rest at the moment?” Tech’s voice was nearly as chastising as the gaze behind his goggles.

“Only if you have a ‘proper explanation’ for telling that kid about our complicated lineage.” Crosshair returned Tech’s accusatory glare.

Tech simply pushed his goggles further up his nose. “It is not distressing information to share, and it is only the truth.” He looked back down at his datapad, seemingly resigned already with whatever was keeping Crosshair awake. “There was no benefit to lying.”

“For now.” Crosshair exhaled and shook his head. “The kid’s just lost his own parents, and now he knows we don’t have any, either. Not really great for his morale.”

Crosshair waited for Tech to quip back, but he was only met with silence. The sniper paused his work to look up at Tech again, just to find that his most confident brother was for once looking quite uncertain.

“Tech…”

“Crosshair, have you also been experiencing a strange phenomenon with this child? Encased within the thoracic cavity?”

Crosshair huffed. “You mean sympathy, from the heart?”

Tech shrugged. “If that is the case, then yes.”

Crosshair’s lips tightened before he nodded. “Yeah. Kid’s had it rough.”

Tech’s brow furrowed. “But this… it is different, Cross.” It wasn’t often that Tech used the shortened version of Crosshair’s name, something that alone expressed his true severity. “We have crossed paths with several people in a similar position, yet I have never felt so physically influenced by it.”

Crosshair leaned back further in the chair. “Well, I’m glad it’s not just me.”

Tech shook his head. “Unfortunately, there is little we can do to remedy it.” He checked the navicomputer. “We are making good time to Coruscant, and with General Ti having alerted them to our upcoming arrival, there is no way we can deviate without arousing suspicion.”

Crosshair blinked at Tech in surprise. “Why would we deviate?”

Tech froze while he was adjusting his goggles. “I…” he blinked a few times, “am uncertain.” He lowered his datapad to his lap and held his chin with his forefinger and thumb. “How strange.”

Strange, indeed—but even stranger was that Crosshair was just as disappointed by the truth of their current destination as Tech was, and their inability to find a way out of it. But what were they thinking, even considering keeping this boy around? They were soldiers in the middle of what felt like a never-ending war. This kid’s life had already been torn apart enough by the conflict.

Yet as Crosshair and Tech carried on their respective tasks in silence, the sniper could practically feel the tension sizzling in the air, and if he looked closely enough, he could see both their bodies weighed down by some invisible burden. Crosshair didn’t know what that meant, and as usual, he would let his older brothers be the ones to figure that out.

════════════════════

[vodika-vibes]

could I have Fives with garnet at night? maybe meets the reader at 79s and saves them from a creepy dude?? if that doesn't vibe with you, make it whatever you want xx

You're Worth It

Summary: You should have known better than to come to the club with your friends, they always ditch you after all. Luckily, a handsome clone comes to your rescue.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Word Count: 637

Prompt: Garnet - Protective Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope this is close to what you wanted~

You need some new friends. The friends that you’ve been running around with since you were all in diapers are not the best friends you could have asked for. By any definition of the word. 

Seeing as they ditched you as soon as they realized that they might hit it off with some of the people here.

Leaving you, all by your lonesome, to get cornered by a man who smells like a walking brewery. 

He’s so drunk, in fact, that you’re not entirely sure what he wants. His words are all slurred together into a jumbled mess of words. Though you’re pretty sure he’s hitting on you.

That, or he’s trying to sell you speeder insurance.

You hold your hands up, trying to keep him from leaning into your personal space, and it’s…not working.

You’d sell your right arm for one of your friends to notice that you’re in need of a rescue. But you can’t even see any of them.

“Ah, there you are!” A strong arm slings around your shoulders and you’re tugged into a broad chest, “Honestly, babe, you can’t just wander off like that.”

You blink, bewildered, at the man standing slightly in front of you. A clone, with a five tattooed on his forehead. He’s handsome, but then, all of the clones are, and has a rakish grin on his face.

“Sorry,” You say automatically, and his grin softens before he tosses a wink in your direction, “I got turned around.” You add.

“Totally understandable, there’s a bunch of people here.” He squeezes you a little tighter, “Excuse us, we need to get back to our table.”

The drunk man slurs something, and apparently your savior speaks drunk, because he doesn’t look the least bit confused.

“You’re very drunk, you should probably go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

The drunk man rears his fist back as though he’s about to punch the man standing slightly in front of you. And you hazard a glance at the clone, he looks bored, and you feel a little silly for being so worried about him.

The man protecting you, moves slightly and nudges you to the side as the drunk man finally throws his punch, and ends up toppling to the floor. “Um…”

“Come on, leave him be. Someone will come and take care of him.” He ushers you away from the toppled man, and then grins at you, “Fives.”

“Beg pardon?”

“My name. It’s Fives.”

“Oh!” You hurriedly introduce yourself, and his smile widens. He really is very handsome. And apparently you’re a little more out of sorts than you thought because those very words fall from your lips.

Fives’ grin widens, “Thank you. I happen to think you’re stunning too.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t use the word stunning.”

“But you meant it though, I can tell.” Fives winks at you, and tugs you onto the dance floor, “Now, because I saved you from that awful drunk man, you should dance with me.”

“Is that right? Is this your payment?”

“Sure. But I’d do it anyway.”

You frown at him thoughtfully, even as you slide your arms around him, allow him to tug you closer, “You could have been hurt. What if he had a weapon?”

“Well, better I got hurt than you.” Fives replies with a small grin.

“No one is worth that!”

“I disagree. You clearly are.”

You’re struck silent by his sincerity, and his grin softens, “Now, let’s dance. And then, maybe, if you’re interested, we can go and get some caf?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, “...there’s a cafe not far from here that sells the tea that I prefer-” You offer hesitantly.

“Sounds like a plan to me. But first we have to dance.”

[momentov1vere]

https://www.tumblr.com/momentov1vere/781574055376584704/hi-i-made-star-wars-ocs-designing-them-was

who's the master and who's the padawan??

and what's their stories?

ty for asking :D I think I've finally finished writing out at least the basics of their storylines so I can share them now yay!

ok everyone buckle up this is going to be a bit of a long ramble (I will try to keep it kinda short but we'll see how that goes lol)!

So here's Jedi Master Kalliri Ersha and her padawan, Sira Turil :)

They're a Clone Wars-era Master & Padawan duo! Enjoy the lore (if you end up reading all of it lol)

Kalliri

Kalliri Ersha is a Togruta Jedi and Sira's master. Kalliri and her master (unnamed at the moment) weren't the closest because he believed very strongly in the traditional Jedi ways (no attatchments etc etc) but they were close-ish and he was an excellent teacher.

Kalliri was knighted a little earlier than usual because the Jedi Council thought they needed more generals and believed that Kalliri was experienced enough to enter the field as a commander. She did pass her Jedi Trials, but she felt a bit pressured by the Council and didn't perform to the best of her ability. The Council did not care bc they were a bit shortsighted and just wanted another general. Her master did not agree with the Council's decision (neither did Kalliri tbh) but couldn't convince them she wasn't ready, so she was given command of a clone squadron and sent into the field.

She struggled with being commanding at first and made a few bad tactical decisions, but got the hang of it eventually. She and her squad favored steath missions over head-on attacks, but were all good fighters. She became very close with the Captain of her squad (platonically) and the two led many successful missions.

About a year after she was appointed as a general, Sira became her padawan. The two were close already because Kalliri and her master rescued Sira from the wreckage of her home after it was raided and her family was killed. Kalliri was a bit of an older sibling/parental presence in Sira's life and they were very protective of each other.

Kalliri does not survive Order 66 because she sacrifices herself to save Sira. She distracted the troopers long enough for Sira to escape and was able to put up a little bit of a fight, but they overtook her in the end, rip :(

Sira

Sira is Pantoran & Kalliri's padawan. She was taken in to the Jedi Order by Kalliri & her master after her home was raided & her family was killed.

She was young enough that she had not been given her tattoos yet and went much of her childhood without them, but eventually got them, basing them off of Kalliri's facial markings because she was the closest thing she had to family.

She had a few short "relationships" but ended them before she felt she made a real connection because of the Jedi rules, which had been drilled into her a bit by Kalliri's master. The longest was with another padawan, Rowan, but they were discovered by Kalliri's master and forbidden to speak again. She looked for him after Order 66 but found that he'd been killed after it-- which didn't completely surprise her, as he'd been training more as a healer than a fighter, but she closed herself off to pretty much anyone after that for fear of losing them.

Sira is incredibly curious and was always interested in learning what she could about pretty much everything, but she was especially interested in the Force. She found some old texts when she was exploring an area of the Jedi temple (that she shouldn't have been in) and started messing around with Force abilities, one of them being Force lighting. Kalliri found her while she was in the middle of creating it and Sira got scared, so the lightning went out of control and she accidentially scarred herself and Kalliri, who was trying to calm her down.

She still sometimes uses the lighting (and other 'dark side' fighting techniques, hence the purple lightsabers) but tries to avoid it because she remembers what happened the first time and regrets it. Kalliri wasn't mad but made her promise to be more careful if she was going to be "experimenting" with the Force.

Sira survives Order 66 thanks to Kalliri's sacrifice and spends a lot of time on the run (as the surviving Jedi did). She got into a few close calls with Inquisitors but had learned a lot from Kalliri in terms of stealth so she was able to avoid them most of the time and did whatever she could to not draw attention to herself. She becomes a bit more like a Gray Jedi, and fights with herself a lot to avoid falling completely to the dark side, but manages to stay between Dark and Light by reminding herself that Kalliri wouldn't want her to fall to the dark side.

She wanted to help the rebellion but felt she'd be insulting Kalliri's memory by putting herself in the path of danger, so she only did non-confrontational things, like bringing food to poorer communities, and would hide at the first signs of the Empire. Eventually she meets Nia Cordorra, a Force-sensitive Chandrilan rebel, and Nia convinces Sira to join her in the Rebellion. Sira agrees but only to non-combative missions, in order to honor Kalliri's memory, but eventually she realizes that Kalliri would've wanted her to help people even if it put her life at risk.

She does many stealth missions with Nia and the two grow close & fall in love :D. It took some time bc of Sira's fear of losing the people she cared about, but Nia is patient with her and they make it official a year or two before the Battle of Endor.

Nia and Sira fight in the Battle of Endor-- Nia as a commander & pilot and Sira on the ground-- and both survive. Once the Empire is defeated and the New Republic is founded, the two move to Coruscant and get married. Nia becomes a Senator in the New Republic Senate and Sira studies to become a history professor, vowing that she would not let the mistakes of the past be forgotten or overwritten.

That's all I have for now!! TYSM for reading this far if you did, sorry for how long it was lol I just had a lot of thoughts about these two :D

I've only had them for a few days but I love them like my own children lol

I'll probably come up with some other stuff but I had a lot of fun coming up with these backstories and I hope to draw more of the characters from their stories soon :)