#clone trooper shade | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gatorbites-imagines · 7 months

Text

Kinktober day 5

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader + uniform kink

I’ve been a Darth Vader fanboy (dickrider) for so long, I’m amazed I haven’t written smut about him before. This is loosely based on a plot idea I’ve had for a long time but never sat down and wrote.

This is the longest thing ive written for this kinktober, the spirit of star wars itself must have posessed me.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

You were an imperial officer, you hadn’t always been one of course. Before the empire rose you had been your average war general under the republic working closely with the jedi and their clonetroopers, most of all you worked with the 501st lead under Anakin Skywalker, a name not even allowed to be murmured anymore. You had always carried some sort of candle for general Skywalker, the hero with no fear, but everyone knew jedi weren’t allowed to be in relationships, and even if they were, you could never imagine Skywalker being interested in you.

For some reason, after the empire rose you had joined their ranks. What else could you do? You had lost everything in the war, and even though you didn’t believe in their propaganda, you knew the republic had been just as corrupt, they just hid it better. Your old coworkers had never liked how easily you switched sides for credits, but since you had no one to tie yourself too it was easy to put on a new uniform and kill under some randos orders. It was what had made you so useful during the clone wars and for the empire afterwards, you were quick and smart and had little mercy in your soul.

Of course, your heart gave a squeeze when you would see the formerly lively clones be reduced to mindless flesh droids, or when you saw the few remaining jedi being dragged away for re-education or to be gotten rid of. But under the emperor you were paid handsomely, more than most other officers you learned, why though you could never tell. Maybe it was the fact that you were the longest lasting officer under Lord Vader, as the sith had a tendency to snuff out the life of anyone who got on his nerves. Anyone but you.

For some reason, Vader seemed to like you, at least to the degree a sith could like somebody. He kept you around, at least. And at times you were sure he was staring at you longer than was appropriate, but you weren’t gonna say anything, especially to the guy known for snapping necks of anyone who got in his way.

Your status as Vader’s personal officer came one day in the form of a special uniform. It looked like your average imperial officer uniform, except for the fact that instead of black or white, the top part of your uniform was now a dark deep crimson. The color reminded you of dried blood. The pants were pitch black, the same shade as Vader’s cloak. If you looked deeper into your outfit, you would see the stitches were done with a red thread, almost like Vader’s saber. It was clear you were Vader’s, whether you wanted it or not.

Being Vader’s personal officer was isolating, more than usual. You had always been known as cold and tough, because you had to be to have lasted as long as yourself standing so close to Vader and the emperor. But after being so visibly marked as someone under Vader’s terrifying eye, all new officers and troopers seemed to avoid you or walk on eggshells around you, as if fearing your wrath would be Vader’s wrath itself. You had gotten used to the loneliness a long time ago, but as more and more officers and crew from your time were replaced you ended up having just yourself and your thoughts.

And your thoughts somehow always ended up back on Anakin Skywalker, that jedi general you had fought beside many years ago now. You wondered how he would have felt if he knew who you had become, how much blood was on your hands, how many innocents you had doomed. You knew deep down it was stupid, he had never truly known you, you had been nothing but coworkers, fellow generals. But for some reason, his handsome face, beautiful eyes, and strong body would appear in your dreams and in the recess of your mind.

Even as you stood behind Vader in the cockpit of the large ships he would parade around in, you would find some of your attention sliding to memories of Skywalker. For some reason his clothes had always fascinated you, the dark robes had been so unusual for jedi, but they had been perfect on him. Maybe it was because of this that small twinges in your mind had started feeling a pull to Lord Vader of all people.

Maybe it was his height, his presence, or just the black clothing he wore that seemed to light something in your mind. Maybe it was fear mixing itself with lust, as you had noticed how he seemed even more tense than usual. Others would be unable to see, but you had stood behind him since the moment the emperor brought him forth. You could see it in the way his fists tightened, and his gloves creaked, or how his breathing just became a lad louder from what you could under imagine was frustration.

You were sure you were going mad from your isolation when your dreams were starting to become filled with not only Anakin Skywalker but Darth Vader, their gloved hands pulling at your body, Vader holding you up as Anakin had his way with you, or Anakin’s mechanical hand twisting and torturing your length as Vader made you choke on his fingers or cock, depending on if your dream thought the cyborg sith even possessed privates.

Normally you would be able to release the tension these dreams brought you, but Vader had seemed to call you to his personal quarters late at night. This night your dream had been stranger than usual, there had not been just Anakin or Vader, or even both at once, instead Anakin and Vader had been on. You had been in your imperial officer garb as well, something that rarely happened in your dreams featuring Skywalker, and the Vader Anakin amalgamation has pulled you apart. His heavy breathing still rang in your ears as you hurried towards your lords’ quarters.

The halls were empty, or as empty as they could be as you passed a couple of troopers patrolling, whom all saluted you as they were supposed to. You were sure you looked a mess, the call from Lord Vader had been urgent, and you hadn’t had time to pick up your newly pressed uniforms yet and had to put on the one you had worn all day. Outside the door of Vader’s quarters, you took a deep breath as you collected yourself, before knocking.

When you were welcomed in you almost choked at the sight before you, for a moment you were sure your lord was suffocating you with the force. There had never been a bed in Lord Vader’s room, as he had no need for one, but now there was. It was large, big enough to fit maybe three or four beings Vader’s own size, and the sheets were blood red and looked so expensive even your high salary felt a hit.

“Sir” you stated, straightening your back as you tried to not let your thoughts run haywire as Vader sat upon the bed like a king on his throne. Maybe it was leftovers from your dreams, but the spread of his powerful thighs and slow deep breathing leaving his respirator had your palms going clammy under his gloves. You cursed the fit of your uniform, as you were sure your halfchub caused by your dream was still visible as you stood straight.

This was it, Vader was gonna get rid of you for daring to show up looking so disheveled and uneven. “Officer” he rumbled in his deep voice, and you clenched your teeth and shut your eyes, ready for what you were sure was gonna be your death. Instead you felt your body being lurched forwards with what you knew was the force, falling to your knees as the force seemed to pull your feet out from under you.

As you opened your eyes you found yourself on your knees between Vader’s strong thighs, his gloved palm coming to hold your chin as he seemed to look you over with a critical eye, even under his helmet. You gulped, your halfchub filling up faster than you could dream of suppressing, and the scoffed exhale that left Vader made it sure you knew that he knew just how affected you were.

His other hand came up and adjusted the collar of your uniform, his strong mechanical fingers lingering around the vulnerable flesh of your neck. “Your dreams, officer. Are so very loud” he spoke in that deep voice of his, you were sure you heard it wrong as it felt like he had purred out those words. You face became hot, and so did your entire body, at the mention of your dreams. You knew force users could read or sense thoughts, but some innocent hopeful part of yourself had hoped your dreams would stay secret.

“Your uniform is out of order” he rumbled, the blank lenses of his helmet forcing you to stare at your own reflection. You tried to force yours mouth open to speak, to apologize for your appearance and your dreams, maybe to beg for mercy. But your lord seemed to have different plans, as his booted foot pressed against your crotch where you were hardest, a surprised moan leaving you.

“Remove your coat, officer” he rumbled, the fingers gripping your chin tightening until you followed his orders almost desperately. This had to be a dream, you were sure of it, why else would lord Vader be letting you rut against his boot like some kind of dog. “Your room is just below me own, did you know? You broadcast your dreams loudly” he kept going, grinding his boot harder between your thighs, making you gasp and grasp as his leg.

“You must make it up to me” Vader rumbled, and all speculation if he even possessed privates left your mind. In your dreams he had always been large, as he was so tall, but seeing it did it no justice. His strong grip knocked your hat off your head, another part of your uniform, as he pulled you forwards. You barely had time to prepare before your mouth as filled, and the tight fabric of your uniform pants became unbearable as you found yourself arching at the act.

Vader didn’t moan as he fucked your face, or rather pulled your head back and forth at his whim, but his breathing shook and that was enough for you. Your mind was a jumbled mess of Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker, for some reason you had grown hooked on the combination. If you weren’t so out of it, you might have noticed that Vader would thrust down your throat extra hard whenever images of the jedi appeared in your mind, but you could barely keep focus.

There was no warning as he came, just an extra deep exhale and him bottoming out, forcing your nose against his hairless pubic area. His shiny boot rolled against your crotch, and you were almost sure he must have done something with the force as you found yourself finish, even as he made you swallow all he gave you, you stained the inside of your boxers and uniform pants.

It took a moment to clear your thoughts as Lord Vader finally let you pull back, your throat sore in the best way and your eyes teary. You must have looked a mess, as Vader wiped under your drooling mouth with his large thumb. “Go fix up your uniform, officer” he rumbled, the force pushing you to your feet even as you almost buckled at the knees. Maybe you were still high on your orgasm, but you swore his tone was softer than normal, and that his touch was more careful as he put your hat back on your head and you tucked your jacket back on.

“I will call for you in the morning” Vader spoke, his tone meaningful in a way that had excitement brewing in you once more. “Sir” you replied in affirmation, trying not to shiver at how raw your voice was. As you hurried back to your quarters, Vader exhaled loudly as he ran his hand over his helmeted face, for once wishing he still possessed his old face so that maybe he could have indulged you in that so powerful dream of yours.

865 notes · View notes

clonehub · 3 months

Text

Clone language headcanons:

I believe that the clone troopers are a vast, connected, and diverse enough group of people to have developed their own conlang and/or pidgin so that they can communicate clandestinely/privately with one another.

This communication includes subtle and complex body language that non-clones don't notice and don't understand. The clones use both the verbal and body language to pass jokes, commentary, and critiques. The body language is especially crucial because clones are not often given a space for their opinions to be heard. This way, a clone can express their thoughts without having to wait for permission from a higher up (especially a ranked non-clones) to say what they want to say.

One of the most important aspects of the clones language is the pronouns. Clones don't gender their society the way we do. As in, they wouldn't try and split society into groups based on assumed reproductive capability and arbitrary feminine/masculine appearance (like we do IRL)

The clones are a hierarchical society, and their hierarchies are based in rank. When they're not based in rank, it's based on things like merit and experience, but for the time being were just gonna talk about the explicit ranks they have. Because ranking and deference are so important to them, their language reflects that. They have three pronouns, and they are self-referential, meaning that the pronouns of others change based your position relative to them.

Clones above you in rank get one set of pronouns. Clones the same rank as you get another. Clones you outrank get a third. This means that at any given moment, there's a clone for whom all three pronouns are being used to describe them. Take for instance Captain Rex. Cody outranks him, so Cody would call Rex pronoun set C. Captain Keeli and Rex are the same rank, so Keeli would refer to rex with set B (if he was alive RIP 💯🪦🕊️) rex outranks all Shinies and everyone in the 501st, so he'd also be referred to with the final set of pronouns.

I haven't decided yet if the pronouns get conjugated for number yet. I also just realized I'm not sure how a first person plural pronoun would work in a mixed group. Maybe they have a fourth pronoun that ignores rank and is specifically for "us/we" statements.

For verbs and tenses, the clones have only three tenses: simple past, simple present, and simple future. Their unnaturally short lifespans and speedy development get factored into their understanding of time.

The clones have to borrow a lot of words as well from other languages. They have multiple ways to say brother, every term needed for rank and weaponry, probably seven different words for March and a bunch to describe laser fire and specific shades of white. This is because these are the things they saw most in their environment on Kamino and I'm their daily lives. They don't/wouldn't have a word for uncle or aunt, though, because they've never had to refer to someone as such. They might have a word for mother and father.

"brother" Is functionally gender neutral in their language, but when speaking Basic, they'll use "sister" for their clone siblings who are girls/women or otherwise just prefer the term. Clones have a LOT of euphemisms for basically everything around them, but also a lot of teasing or derogatory terms for Shinies. The teasing terms Shinies make up for vets never stick. Of course, as we've already seen in canon, the clones also have a lot of words for helmet.

The clones are HIGHLY secretive about their language. Non-military are the most likely to catch bits and pieces, but military non-clones are actively excluded from access to the language. This includes the Jedi.

As loyal as the clones are to the Republic and the Jedi, they're aware of how tenuous their culture is because of their short lifespans, their restricted lives, and their inability to spread naturally the way other cultures do. So they hold on tight to what they have and resist study. They resist outsiders knowing too much because they value what little privacy they have.

Back to the pronouns for a moment. Theyre 100% accepting of any clones who are trans or nonbinary. That's a personal and sacred as finally choosing a name for oneself. So along the same vein, they respect when someone changes their name.

I think the clones have a Spiritual belief system of sorts, but I haven't really developed it yet. The clones have accents that vary by battalion. There's the strong Kamino accent, and then they pick up the accent of the battalion or company they join. The 501st and Coruscant guard have wildly different accents. Everyone gets teased about how they speak, especially when a battalions been separated from the rest of clone society for a time. The language changes constantly, too.

#ch posts #captain rex #fives #star wars #the clone wars #all the bros #commander cody #clonelang #meta #tcw #clone trooper #clones #swtcw #copy n pasted from twitter

136 notes · View notes

multi-fan-dom-madness · 7 months

Text

Midnight Masquerade - Invitation

Summary: You receive a mysterious invitation to an equally mysterious costume party off-world. While you don't normally do things like this, you're glad you decided to attend this party, especially once you realize what you stand to gain.

Warnings: reader is a monsterfucker; monster!clone au; unexplained Force magic potions; alcohol consumption; this intro is pretty tame but minors DNI regardless; individual chapters will be tagged with specific kinks and additional warnings

Word Count: 2.8k

MDFM's masterlist | Suggested listening for this series

You’d been distracted all day, mind fixated on the mysterious invitation and accompanying note you returned home to last night. A simple rectangle of orange paper, the invitation’s words spun dizzying circles in your mind: “Come not as you are...but as you wish to be.” The note, signed simply from “your favorite trooper,” explained that the proclaimed “midnight masquerade” is for a costume party to be held today, off-world—but that’s the extent of the information you know.

Maker, you don’t normally do things like this. Granted, you don’t often have time to do things like this; working as a senatorial aide leaves much to be desired in terms of a healthy work/life balance. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve been feeling stuck lately, wishing for something greater, something better, something more, to happen to you.

Which brings you here, to the mystery destination. The ship you’d chartered on Coruscant had given you a gorgeous view from space of this planet, a giant crystal ball, glimmering pastel blue in the light of the local star. Up close, though, the landscape is even more breathtaking. Towering spires of crystal glow from the inside in shades of white, blue, and purple. As you step tentatively toward the nearby town, the ground crunches underfoot, as though you walk over a field of tiny crystals. Jaw hanging open, a rush of awed excitement pours through you, electric and hot.

The town itself looks almost out of place. Curving durasteel and plaster walls clash in harsh juxtaposition with the natural landscape. So far, you’ve seen no signs of other people or the planet’s native inhabitants. Swallowing thickly, you do a full 360. Anxiety begins to churn in your stomach. Thoughts, each darker than the last, chase each other in circles in your mind. In your palm, you clutch the invitation so hard it crumples.

“Hello there,” a singsong, ethereal voice calls.

“Kriff!” You nearly jump out of your skin.

“I did not mean to startle you,” the voice says. A moment later, a tall, slender being emerges from behind one of the nearby pillars. Skin almost the same shade of blue as the crystal, they smile at you with such otherworldly beauty that you find you can’t breathe properly. Standing easily ten feet tall, they seem to glide forward, robes of pure black draping over their body like shadows, iridescent hair cascading down their back.

“Do you carry an invitation?”

You blink dumbly. “Um. Y-Yes. Here.” You hurry to smooth out the piece of paper before presenting it.

Their cloudy eyes drift serenely down to the paper. “Excellent. Right this way. There are many who have already arrived.”

Turning, they begin to meander towards town. You rush to catch up. As you approach the cluster of buildings, you notice signs of the party that was promised. Bassy music thrums up through the soles of your feet, and the scent of mulled cider tantalizes your nose and taste buds alike. But still a worm of anxiety wriggles within you.

“Sorry, but, what exactly is this party?”

The strange being’s gaze caresses your face. “It is a most sacred ceremony in celebration of life, during a time in which death is closest. The spirits grow restless; we do our best to placate them through dressing in costume, among other things.”

As a senatorial aide, you’ve had many years’ practice of schooling your expression into polite neutrality. It’s a mask you wear well. You find yourself donning it now. While you don’t discount the possibility of veils between planes, spirits, and the like—not to mention the Force, not with the Jedi constantly in the Senate—you personally harbor no such beliefs.

“Understood,” you say.

The being chuckles, a pleasant, tinkling sound, like a wind chime in the evening breeze. “Not yet. But you soon will.” They glide to a halt in front of a large building, from which the sounds and smells of merriment emanate. “Here I leave you.”

In the time it takes for you to approach the door and turn back to thank your guide, they’ve vanished. A shiver snakes up your spine. “Creepy.”

The blaring, synth-rock music is a physical force to the chest as you push the door open. Where the landscape outside is a swirl of crisp, crystalline blues, the interior is a foggy expanse lit by hues of rich violet, burnt orange, and vivid green. Gnarled, bare trees dot the large room as decoration. Several dozen high-top tables cloaked in tattered cloths are laden with food and drink.

Perhaps most striking, though, are the dozens upon dozens of troopers in costume.

Door falling shut behind you, you can’t contain your wide, incredulous smile. As you begin to step toward the dance floor, you catch sight of Mayday, Hexx, and Veetch adorned in identical Frankenstein’s-monster-like face paint. Through a break in the crowd, you spot Kix carrying far too many shots in one hand, dressed as—a slutty nurse? You blink to make sure you saw that right.

Interspersed throughout the crowd are a handful of other nat-borns. You recognize none of them.

Someone grabs your arm. Jerking your head around, you heave a relieved sigh at the familiar sight of Rex. Atop his head rests a wire halo. His body is dressed in a loose, draping white toga, with fluffy white wings protruding from his back.

Your eyebrows shoot up, both in amusement and in genuine joy to see your friend. “Rex! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I lost a bet,” he admits with a cavalier smile. “Come on, we’ve got a spot saved for you.”

Chest warming at his words (and definitely not at the glimpse of his partially bare, toned torso), you follow eagerly. Around you, costumed clones chatter away, sip drinks, and just generally appear far more relaxed than you’ve ever seen any of them before.

Near the edge of the room, lower tables have been set with seating and peculiar centerpieces. Glowing from within, the vase-like decorations sprout darkened and decaying flowers, stuck through with glitter bats, cats, and pumpkins—an odd assortment for a crystalline planet, but you’re distracted from the thought when you spot the table Rex leads you to.

“When you said ‘we,’ I thought—”

“Torrent Company?” He flashes a wry grin over his shoulder. “Not quite. Gotta keep you on your toes, mesh’la.”

Squished around a table that is far too small for all of them are another ten troopers. Present are the entirety of Clone Force 99—a rare sight to see them sitting still; Commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox—your knees weaken when you realize you’ve never actually seen Fox without his helmet; and, deep in discussion, Fives and Sister, both of whom you’ve developed budding friendships with.

Rex squeezes into the booth between Cody and Fives.

Jostled by his captain’s return, Fives glances around. His expression brightens when he sees you. “There’s our favorite aide!” he calls.

Emboldened by his attention, you snag a nearby chair and pull it up to the last bit of free space at the table. To your left, Wolffe arches one severe eyebrow. His skin shines with a gray pallor, and a dark, twisting crown rises out of his curls. Black robes that look suspiciously like General Koon’s wrap around his body. To your right, Echo, dressed to the nines in a custom-tailored suit with red bowtie, gives you a genuine smile and nod. The rest of the troopers cheer or raise their glasses to you, welcoming you to the party.

“About time you showed up,” Fox deadpans.

Someone pushes a shot into your hands. “What, didn’t think I’d miss getting blackmail material on you all, did you?”

As the others whoop and holler, Fox fixes you with a flat stare; around his eyes glint realistic scales, painted the same hue of red as his armor. Segmented horns curl up from his graying hair. As he lifts his drink to his lips, you catch the tiniest nod of appreciation from him. Your entire body flushes in satisfaction.

Maker, this bunch is going to be the death of you.

You let yourself get swept into the current of the conversation. For the most part, you content yourself to listen. Occasionally one of them will ask you for input from a senatorial perspective, and they all seem to value what you have to add. But you’re more than happy just to observe. While each and every one of them are absolute stunners in regular life, tonight they all look divine, glowing with relaxation and costume makeup.

Most of their costumes are easy to parse together. Rex and Cody seem to have coordinated, Cody dressed as a devil to counter Rex’s angelic nature; Hunter has opted to dress as a werewolf halfway in the process of transforming; on Crosshair’s neck you spy two pinpricks of fake blood; Tech has donned a blood-spattered lab coat and swapped his usual yellow-tinted glasses for swirled ones; and the scales on Fox’s bare skin reveal his inner dragon. But you can’t quite pin down what Wrecker, Echo, Sister, Wolffe, and even Fives have dressed as.

With a shrug, you assure yourself you’ll find out at some point.

You knock back the shot at last and grimace as it burns down your throat. Cody slides you another with a dangerous wink; you raise an eyebrow and shoot him a wink of your own. The deep, pulsing thrum of the music washes through you, and you let it control the rate of your heart. And you miss, or perhaps choose to ignore, the lingering looks they all give you, the ones that trail down your body and study your face with equal intensity. Heat, stoked by their looks and the liquid courage, simmers below your skin.

The barest hint of an idea begins to form in your tipsy, buzzing brain.

When Fives shoots you a conspiratorial smirk, raising his glass in a toast to you, you enact the half-formed plan. From the cluster of finger foods at the center of the table, you pluck a skewered olive, lift it to your mouth, and, eyes boring into Fives’s, make a show of licking the salty snack before wrapping your lips around it. Fives sputters and chokes on his drink.

“Mesh’la,” Wolffe grits out, a warning note in his gravelly voice.

You turn wide, innocent eyes on him. “Something the matter, Commander?”

His grip on his glass tightens, to the point you worry he’s going to shatter it. Resisting the urge to wilt under his mismatched glare, you snag another olive and suck it into your mouth in much the same manner as the first. Wolffe breaks first, glancing away.

Around the table, the rest of them shift in their seats, acting like they didn’t all just watch you practically give head to those poor olives. Stifling a smirk of your own, you lean back, satisfaction lingering in your veins. After a moment, the conversation resumes its ebb and flow around you.

You’re not sure how much time passes before the music quiets and a dreamy, floating voice comes over the speakers. “Revered guests, now is the time for you to decide whether you will cross the shadowed veil and experience another form of living. Potions will be provided for consumption. You may notice that you become more than a mere costume. Be assured, the potion’s effects are temporary.

“One final word of caution: in the case of sexual coupling, it is inadvisable for more than one person to partake of the potion.”

A buzz of confused, excited chatter whispers across the assembled crowd. At the mention of possible intimacy, your skin flushes, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Whoever had been speaking has just dredged up the unspoken thing between you and every person at your table. An idea begins to bloom in your mind, spurred on by the alcohol in your system, the bone-rattling music, the sweet scent of the fog machines, the looks they’ve been giving you all night. You glance, suddenly shy, and find Rex already looking at you with concern slanted across his brow. With a smile, you relax.

“I’ll get the potions!” Sister clambers out of her seat and disappears into the crowd. She reemerges several minutes later carrying a tray of shot glasses, each filled with a murky, swirling liquid. You grimace at it when she hands you one.

“We’re supposed to drink this?” you mutter, voice drowned out as the music resumes its previous volume.

Wrecker sniffs at his glass. “It smells nice. Herbal and fruity.”

Rex catches your attention again. “Maybe just one of us should try it first.”

You’re about to affirm what a good idea that is, when Cody’s gaze shifts from you to someone behind you. Turning, you watch as one of the Wolfpack downs the thick drink in one go. For a moment, nothing happens, and then his entire body shudders violently. You must have blinked, because suddenly he’s no longer fully corporeal, and instead floats a few inches above the ground, his body and clothes gray vapor and mist. You realize with a start that the entire squad is costumed similarly to Wolffe; he’s the only one wearing a crown.

Next to you, Wolffe heaves a sigh at the same time that Fives and Sister gasp out, “Wizard!” The two of them share a conspiratorial grin, then, clinking their glasses together, throw back the mystery shot.

The same odd shudder-and-blink phenomenon happens to them. In place of Fives’s plastic horns and fabric tail are suddenly real, bony horns protruding from his forehead and a writhing, leathery pointed tail. Sister’s nature-themed costume sprouts living flowers. Her braided hair becomes a mass of vines.

“It appears that the drink turns you into your costume,” Tech observes, one finger raised.

“I would have never known,” Crosshair snarks. He, too, downs his shot. Skin growing paler, the mock wound at his neck dries into faded scars. When he flashes you a smirk, two pointed canines poke from between his lips. Arousal shoots through you with sudden heat, your core clenching.

One by one, the troopers around you down their potions, until you’re the last one left. Mulling over the announcement, you weigh your options. You’d be a liar if you said you haven’t had a few...indecent thoughts since arriving tonight. But you know none of these troopers would hold it against you if you decided to drink the potion and similarly transform.

Twirling the glass in your fingers, you shake your head to clear it and set the drink on the table.

“I have a proposition for you all,” you say, leaning forward. You preen a little when you see you have their rapt attention. Confidence surges through you, hot and languid and bold. A smile curls over your face.

“I’ve always wanted to know how a monster fucks.”

For a brief moment, the table remains draped in silence, punctuated only by the nearby raucous shouts of other clones and the heady, bassy music. Then, all at once—

Tech, always aiming for precision: “Technically, we are not monsters, but rather realistic imitations of them.”

Crosshair, snarky and smug: “Really think you could handle it, doll?”

Cody, one stern eyebrow raised: “Is that so, mesh’la?”

Sister blushes a wonderful shade of red, giggling as she reaches up to close Fives’s hanging jaw. Hunter squints at you. In the strobing multicolored lights, his eyes seem to reflect like an animal’s. Only Wolffe and Echo seem to have maintained their composure, though you catch the dangerous smirk toying at Echo’s lips.

As the initial outburst of reactions subsides, Fox snorts, a gasp of smoke puffing from his now-elongated snout. “That sure was a funny way of begging, little one.”

“I only beg for those who earn it, Commander Fox,” you say, a little too sweetly, judging by the way his eyes—dark and reptilian and piercing—rove your features.

Rex clears his throat, drawing your attention back towards him. Your breath catches; in the chaos of everyone transforming into their costumed selves, you’d somehow missed the finer details of Rex’s new form. The fluffy white wings, formerly attached by elastic, now rest gently against his back, shifting as he adjusts in his seat. Floating above his head, casting his face in radiant beauty, the halo burns in a miniature solar flare.

“All you have to do is say the word, mesh’la,” he says.

Swallowing, the trickling realization of what you’ve gotten yourself into finally sinking in, you shake your head. You dart up from your seat and rush to a nearby trash receptacle. Thankfully, you don’t have to dig, the object you need resting near the top.

You return to the table with an empty bottle. Eleven near-identical expressions of dismay and confusion clear as you settle back into your seat and rest the bottle on the table in front of you.

“Let’s let fate decide.”

You spin the bottle, watching, mesmerized and anxious, as it rotates in a blur, before coming to a rest, its neck pointing at...

...Crosshair

...Fives

...Echo

...Sister

...Tech

...Rex and Cody

...Wrecker

...Fox

...Wolffe

...Hunter

Ragu list: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writess @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebell @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueenn @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

155 notes · View notes

toska-writes · 2 months

Text

“Where the stars can shine”

Summary: the fighting never stops, and it never will so it’s in everyone’s best interest to find the calm moments when you can.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x padawan!reader (OF COURSE THIS IS PLATONIC)

Warning: none just so much fluff!

Word count: 1261 (not proof read but what did you expect)

Notes: IM WATCHING THE NEW BAD BATCH SEASON AFTER THIS! So this is my way of manifesting everyone being alright to end the show 🥲

The war never ended, nor would it for anyone who has endured it and its intensity.

One fight always rolled into another and nothing could be done to stop it. The only way to get through it was to find the little cracks in all the bad. The place where the sun could shine and the flowers could grow.

Or in this case, the stars could twinkle.

"This is already too high for me." Wrecker stated loudly hauling himself up the side of the Marauder.

Crosshair, who was currently under Wreck scoffed to himself before clambering up the side like it was nothing. "You never seem to have that problem when we're in the air." He quipped.

"Well I'm inside then." He whined finally being assisted by Hunter who had the small hands of Omega making sure he didn't fall.

You could only laugh at the scene, leaning back on Echo you could feel him laugh too.

"Who do you think's falling off first?" You ask with a smile that was masked by the moonlight.

"The real question is," Echo leaned forward, surprised a little bit that the top of the marauders could fit 5 fully grown clones plus omega and the Jedi padawan. "Who's going to be pushed off first."

You looked back towards him and in an instant you spoke the same word together. "Tech."

Speaking of the devil, Tech's voice rang out as you looked over to where he had an arm pointing something out beyond the horizon.

"-and if you look there you'll be able to see Endor"

Omega's eyes lit up brighter than they have been in the past few days, nothing seemed to be going right for that bad batch no matter how much they tried.

"Have you guys been there?" Omegas eyes scanned the rest of her family that sat gazing with her. The sky on this backwater planet was surprisingly clear, clearer than you thought it would be.

"Eh once or twice." Hunter shrugged it off with a smile as all that Omega could do was gawk up at her big brother.

"Thats an understatement." Crosshair added quietly from beside you. With a nudge to your shoulder he added. "That meat-head over there blew up more than half the forest and got us kicked out. For life."

"Hey!" Wrecker let go of his strong grip of the Marauder with one hand to wave it at the sniper.

Omega giggled giving you a glance as you could help but laugh at the exchange. "Have you?"

You could only smile at the found memories the question brought you. Landing with your Master on a planet you've never even heard of at that time. The trees the towered over you and the abundant shades of green that you didn't even know existed. The faint sound of your master laughing as you stared up from the base of the tall trees fathomed by the hight.

"Yeah I went once I think during the Clone Wars. It was beautiful there." You spoke, the smiles spread from Omegas face to Hunters as he watched you retell the fond memories.

"Well I also did kinda crash into a tree there but other than that the rest was beautiful." Echo hide his laugh behind you as you told the more embarrassing part of the trip.

"I think I did hear about that one." The ex arc trooper spoke out. You shoved him back slightly as your gaze returned to the stars above.

"Now if you all turn your gazes eastward you can spot the Orion constellation which should also mean the Canis Major is pretty close." Tech pointed upward now, his own eyes locked tightly on the stars.

"That one has the brightest star in the whole galaxy right?" Omega filled in, whether Tech wanted to continue himself or not he could only beam down at the girl, who clearly heard this from him before.'

You smiled also recounting when Tech probably told the group for the first time.

The bounty hunters came from nowhere that day, Omega gripped on the back of Echo's armor plate with tears streaking down her face clearly scared.

Tech stood above you the, a data pad scanned over you as Hunter tried to apply some pressure to a wound you sustained on your side. Wrecker and Cross stood around the group, the sniper's gaze fixed on the darken horizon beyond.

Panicked breath sounded out and flown into the barren night, as much as you didn't want to scare Omega more you really could help it. You were scared yourself.

"Do you see that over there." Tech took your free arm in his hand and pointed up to the looming sky with it. "That really bright star?"

You were pulled back from your thoughts with the slightest nudge from Crosshair who spared you a glance, nobody else seemed to notice his movements

"I want to go to all of those planets one day." The words were light from Omega, a smile still evident in her voice.

"You'll definitely need to learn to fly then." You added shooting a look at Tech who finally spared a glance at someone else and was immersed in taking pictures of the different planets and constellations.

"If you can find another ship." Tech said mater-o-factly with a finger in the air.

"Aweeee Tech." Omega did the only thing she could think of, huge tooka eyes found Tech and with the pout of her bottom lip you could almost see the moment Tech cracked.

"More contemplation will be needed for that"

Though Omega wasn't disappointed for long as Crosshair whispered to her. "That's practically a yes."

Hunter laughed now shoving Crosshair back into a lying down position. He noted that his brother looked quite different without his armor, but it was a sight he could get used to.

Opening his mouth Tech was about to defend himself before a snore racked through the air.

"Put someone else to sleep too Techy." Crosshair jabbed a finger at wrecker who still seemed to gripped the ship tightly.

You couldn't blame him though, and is wasn't just because of Tech talking, but you did insist the stars and planets were best to see in the late night. A yawn stifled through you, Echo wasn't the warmest person but the arms that wrapped around you from the clone seemed to do it.

"It's not even that late." Omega protested but her heavy eyelids seemed to contradict her own words.

"No no, we all can't fall asleep up here or it's going to be a pain getting down." Omega curled up into Hunters chest as he spoke. He slowly started to get up.

"One of us should get Wreck." Your own eyelids battled against you as you fought to sit up.

"On it." Crosshair was the last person who you thought would offer but as his leg extended you watched Wrecker rolled over the side.

His startled yell was masked by the thud of him hitting the soft grass below.

"See it wasn't even that far." The skipper shrugged pushing himself over the edge and landing gracefully with even using the side to get down.

You chuckled as you rolled your eyes at the brothers were up to their old antics.

The chill air was a good contrast to the heated days that came before, so much fighting it seemed that it would never end.

Moments like these would always be cherished, and surprisingly Tech wasn't the one to get pushed off the Marauder.

_____________________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

141 notes · View notes