#star wars the clone wars fanfic

[agirlunderarock]

Consequences

Summary: Obi-Wan gets protective of Ahsoka after finding out Anakin plans to use her to get into the Zygerrian slave camp. Some people are more willing to roll with the changes Obi-Wan wants to make to the plans than others.

Pairings: Obi-WanXSas (original female character)

Warnings: None- written for general audiences

A/N: This fic was inspired by artwork by @agingerpanda so please go show the post some love her artwork is wonderful!

Read on Ao3

“Alright, that should be everything,” Sas said to herself as she inspected the neat stacks of disguises she had put together for Anakin’s most recent “just crazy enough to work” idea for the mission to Kadavo. She placed her hands on her hips, whether with satisfaction with her handiwork, or an attempt to keep from fussing with her back brace, she wouldn’t admit to either. She would however admit that she was proud of the effort she put into putting the disguises together. Scrounging around for oddly specific helmets on the black market, or going through the trouble of buying a dress, taking it apart and making something completely new, weren’t exactly the skills she was pulled into the Grand Army of the Republic for, but she found she did enjoy the change. At least it was better than sitting around the Jedi Temple training halls or the clone barracks and running through her monotonous physical therapy routine.

“As our resident shapeshifter, recon consultant, and biggest critic of armor functionality I’m putting you in charge of our disguises,” Anakin had said. Sas had rolled her eyes at the time, but now as she rubbed the soft but stretchy teal fabric of the captive disguise, she felt really pleased with herself. She really did try to keep it simple, almost all functional, the dress being the exception. Well, Sas made it as functional as she could, with as little fabric as she had.

Anakin, Obi-Wan and Rex would be getting to her ship soon to try on their Zygerrian slaver disguises. Heat creeped its way up the back of her neck at the thought. She didn’t want to dwell much on why.  These were just mission things that had to be taken care of, and this time the mission included her shifting into a Togruta woman and being barely dressed. No big deal.

Sas took one quick breath to shake off the pre-mission jitters, and went to change. 

Okay so Sas actually did like the way the disguise fit her. She turned in the mirror, grinning as teal color complimented her green skin and dark hair. The fabric had some give at the top, so it was form fitting, though not tight. She had even managed to leave enough space that she could wear her back brace under it. With the gold necklace and the belt, all she would need to do is ask Anakin or maybe Boil if they could paint her brace the same gold color. She could make it look like the necklace, and the long spinal support was connected to the belt at her waist. She might need a second opinion on it, but truthfully the thought of heading back into the field after being out so long filled her with a nervous excitement.

At least that was what she told herself when she heard the ramp to her ship lower itself. It really shouldn’t have surprised Sas that Obi-Wan and Anakin were early, or that they came onto her ship without knocking, and yet she felt warmth inch its way up her neck again.

“You seem to know your way around here,” Anakin’s voice echoed down the metal halls.

“Only about as well as you know Senator Amidala’s apartment,” Obi-Wan replied. Sas could practically hear the smile in his voice. 

“You two are early,” she called down the small corridor as she walked to the ramp, “For once.”

“If we were going to be late, it would have been Anakin’s fault,” Obi-Wan called back, punching in the code to close up the ramp again. “Lucky for us I know how to keep to a schedule.”

“How would it be my fault? We came from the same place.”

Obi-Wan just ignored the question, “Rex will be here soon. I believe he was having lunch with Pyrrha-” He stopped for a moment as Sas met them in the main storage hold.

Sas watched the two jedi for a moment, Anakin averting his eyes to Obi-Wan, and the latter taking a moment to fuss with his beard under his chin. She wasn’t a jedi; she couldn’t read their emotions, but she could tell Obi-Wan was trying to figure out something to say.  “That's fine,” she started, “Pyrrha knows the code, they can just drop in when they’re ready to. I’ve got your gear sets on the table. Let me just walk you  both through everything. It’s not going to be nearly as comfortable as the duraplast you wear with your robes, but it gives more coverage so that should be good.” Sas was acutely aware of how cold her legs felt as the teal fabric swished with each step. Neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin were the kind to keep their judgements to themselves, so their silence felt heavier and awkward as she continued to ramble on. “So I also needed your opinion on this,” Sas continued, as she gestured to her back brace. “It fits well enough under it, but I thought if we spray painted it gold or something it might look like part of the costume or something-”

“Sas, what are you talking about?” Obi-Wan said at last.

By now the trio was standing in her small mess chamber, Sas leaned against the table as she turned to Obi-Wan, his brows furrowed low over his blue eyes. To anyone else, he might have looked frustrated, but Sas had found over the years it was a face he really made when he was more concerned.

“I just thought it would be better to work my brace into the costume, Anakin or maybe Boil could help me paint it. It wouldn’t take long,” she said. “Figured that would be better than me going without it. I’d be fine to go without it-”

“Sas, you’re not going on this mission,” Obi-Wan interrupted again. 

“What are you talking about Kenobi?” She challenged. “If I’m not going, what was the point of having me put all of this together? Having me put together the disguises?” She looked between the two jedi in confusion.

“So you could feel involved again-” Anakin quickly answered. “You have the best eye for things like this. I didn’t think you would take it to mean you were coming with us.”

“Regardless, Anakin, you could have done her the courtesy of telling her,” Obi-Wan said.

“Honestly, Sas, you’re still my first pick for this mission.”

“Anakin-”

“What? Sas has done plenty of undercover missions for us before. She’s perfect for this!”

“She was undercover as Padme, not being sent to a prison camp. What makes you think those two missions are comparable?”

Sas just crossed her arms and let them bicker back and forth. That was how these sort of things usually went. Truthfully, Sas thought she would have been medically cleared to return to the field by now. She wasn’t surprised though that Anakin hadn’t bothered to check or clear any of it with anyone. While she could say that her physical therapy had been going well, and she was infinitely stronger than she had been a few weeks ago, the implications of getting wounded or looking weak at prison camp, in the event she was rejected as a “gift,” didn’t give her much confidence in making it through the mission in one piece.

“Do I get a say in any of this?” She sighed. Both jedi stopped and looked at her. “Its fine, alright. I misunderstood. It’s fine. I don’t know who you got to fill in, I can see if I can make adjustments for Shaak Ti, I’m assuming you asked her-”

“Eh, Ahsoka is only a little shorter than you, she can make it work,” Anakin said with a shrug. “These my things?” he added as he picked up a stack of gear.

Sas blinked, once, then twice, then looked to Obi-Wan who seemingly turned to stone as he stared at Anakin before speaking again. “Anakin, am I to understand that in your eyes, the next best person to pretend to sell into slavery is Ahsoka, not just your padawan, but a child?”

“She’s a tough kid, and we’ll be there to keep an eye on her. She’ll pick up on the plan quickly. Ahsoka is used to our improvised plans. At least more than Shaak Ti or anyone else would be.”

Sas pressed her palms together, took a deep breath as she brought her hands up to her face before slowly letting out the breath and dropping them. She opened her mouth to call Anakin a few choice words, but stopped abruptly as Obi-Wan reached for his pile of gear with one arm, and with the other guided Sas away from the table by her waist. 

Sas told herself her stuttering was because she was abruptly cut off as Obi-Wan led her away. It definitely was not a reaction to the way his war worn hand sent a shiver of warmth through her when his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of her exposed waist. It wasn’t like he hadn’t touched her before, and yet she felt her heart fluttering with each step she took as he led her back to her cabin. There was no reason for her to feel so worked up. There was absolutely no reason for her heart to race as he adjusted his hand to the small of her back, just where her brace ended.

“My dear, I should apologize for the confusion,” Obi-Wan said as they stopped outside her door.

Sas furrowed her brows. Her mind was still ringing with him calling her ‘my dear’. She felt more warmth creep into her face, He had done it plenty of times before, but something about the way he said it coupled with his hand once again adjusting its position on her waist, left her brain buzzing.

His own blue eyes widened for a moment as he realized what he had done and abruptly pulled his hand away. “For the miscommunication,” he clarified as if he didn’t know he set every nerve ending across her skin ablaze.

“Oh that,” She said, giving a tired roll of her eyes. “It's just Anakin being stubborn. I should have known better than to try to squeeze my way onto the mission so soon.” Outwardly she gave a small teasing smile, “You know its probably for the best I sit this one out. You seemed so distracted when you walked in. I’d hate to mess up the mission because you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

To her surprise she heard Obi-Wan chuckle to himself  as she walked into her room. She looked back at him only to see a small smile of his own tugging at his lips from under his beard. “Yes, well fortunately for me, if you were going you would have shifted into someone else. Someone not nearly as distracting as you claim to be now.”

“I’m not claiming anything. Your silence spoke volumes Pretty Boy,” Sas teased. “It's fine, I understand. I’m just too hot for this mission. I get it.”

Obi-Wan just shook his head, but she could still see the small curve to his lips. He looked down the corridor for a moment before letting her door close behind him as he stepped further into her room. “Sas, it's alright if you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

He raised a brow in answer.

“Using the force to read my emotions is cheating,” Sas countered sitting on the edge of her bed. “I know I’m just too gorgeous for you to handle right now, but you could pretend to misread my body language like anyone else would.”

Obi-Wan let out a breath as he moved to sit next to her. “I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are-.” “Its not a joke, I’m a legit snack.”

Sas hadn’t even realized she moved, until she felt Obi-Wan shift next to her and wrap his arm around her shoulders. Her throat closed up around half formed words as she tried to protest that she wasn’t upset. That she wasn’t disappointed, that she wasn’t worried about him.

“Sas, its okay. You don’t have anything to prove by going, or trying to hide that you’re upset.” She felt his chin rest on top of her head. “While I agree, you made a disguise that accentuates your beauty, I would prefer to have you well rested and in one piece. There will always be another mission-”

Closing her eyes and leaning into his hold, Sas let his words sink in for a moment. Of course she knew there would always be a next time. Even if she wasn’t serving on republic funded missions, there were always supply runs  that needed to be made for her home planet. Part of the problem was that there was always another mission and it had taken more than a few tolls on Obi-Wan and Sas. Physically and mentally they were drained, even if they tried not to show it.

“Maybe the next mission will be for us to take a vacation,” she whispered.

“That would be nice,” he hummed. 

They sat in silence for a while, neither in much of a hurry to change their clothes. It was comfortable and Sas was in no rush to disrupt the small moment of peace.

Anakin however, was eager. “Rex and Pyrrha are picking up Ahsoka, they’ll be here soon,” he called from down the corridor again.

Obi-Wan stiffened next to her. “He just doesn’t want to ask anyone else.” With his free hand, Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay but how many Jedi do you both actually know that would put themselves in that situation with you guys?” Sas asked as she slowly sat up.

“You’re not seriously defending him?”

“No, no I’m not.” Sas said quickly. “I just…understand only wanting to work with people who get your- uh preparation methods. That's why I was contracted through you and really only your unit for the GAR.”

Obi-Wan turned to her fully then. His blue eyes scanned her face, for what though Sas couldn’t say. She always understood those little extra moments of staring as Jedi things, that Obi-Wan just sometimes did. “Darling, you’ve just given me an idea. Take off the dress-”

“Excuse me there should be a please sprinkled in either before or after ‘take off the dress.’” Sas said.

Obi-Wan just blinked at her.

“I just mean, I’m not sure now is a good time for that- We can do that but i don’t think right this second is a good time-”

“Sas-”

“I get it, I look good in this disguise,” Sas was grinning at this point, as she thought she saw some red creeping around the edges of his ears.

“Sas, you know that's not what I meant.”

“No, I know, but it did get you to laugh.”

***

“How do I look?” Obi-Wan said at last. He held out his arms as Sas circled and inspected him in his new disguise.

“Honestly you look better than I did-” Sas said quickly as she adjusted the teal material stretched over his shoulder. She had added some fabric to the metal belt and necklace so that it would fit him. She hadn’t anticipated just exactly how the disguise would fit him. Truthfully she didn’t think the teal disguise would fit him at all. “There's a part of me that says I should be offended but,” she stood in front of him and reached out to adjust the top over his shoulder, “it makes your tits look better than mine.”

“Sas-”

“Fine, your pectorals, is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“This is barely going to cover your nipple-” Sas thought out loud as she reached to adjust the fabric but then quickly pulled her hands away. Fixing it over his shoulder was one thing, something about this felt different. This wasn't a necessity like when they trained together, or occasionally had to put and check each other's bacta pads. She took a step back studying the way the fabric clung to him, accentuating his muscle definition that usually hid under his robes.

“So we’re leaving it out? I suppose that would add to the appeal,” Obi-Wan said looking down at himself and then to Sas with a small grin. “But you would be the best person to speak on that, right Darling?”

Sas had to look away for a moment. She needed air. She felt warmth flood her face as she tried to look back to him to attempt to counter his teasing. All it took was a glimpse of his little teasing grin and the mischievous glint in those pretty blue eyes to make her heart flutter wildly in her chest. She had to look away again. He was only saying that because she was in charge of the disguises. That was all. Any flirting or comments before, even now, were just both of them being silly. That was all. Her ears burned. She spotted the last of the matching jewelry on her dresser, and took her chance to escape.

“I would be, if I was the one you were supposed to be charming and distracting,” She said once she could clear her head of his grin. She gathered up the head piece and the few rings she had found to match the belt.

“I suppose this would be good practice for me then?”

“The day you need to practice being charming, is the day Tatooine floods.” Sas held up the jewelry. “Besides, you need the finishing touches.”

 She offered him the rings and waited for him to slide them onto his fingers before holding up the head piece. She had expected him to just take it from her hands but instead he tilted his head down and leaned in toward her. Sas stopped breathing.

“Would you do the honors?”

Sas blinked. For half a second she thought he was going to kiss her cheek. He was close enough. She let out a breath and gave him a grin. He was just messing with her that was all. It wasn’t often that she got flustered and he was just taking advantage of that. Maybe even trying to get her mind off the disappointment of not going with them.

“Of course, Love,” she finally answered as she set the crown on his head. She did her best to set the small combs on the edge in his hair without making it look silly. Once it was securely in place she dropped her hands to her sides and looked up at him. “All done. Are you sure you want to do this? Rex, Pyrrha and Ahsoka could show up at any second.”

“Anakin only wanted people he knew well on this mission. Who better to take this role, but me?”

Sas just laughed. “Well if you change your mind, at least we know your other disguise fits too.”

“You did a wonderful job with both Sas,” Obi-Wan assured her as he clasped her shoulder.

“You want me to go ahead of you, make it more dramatic?” “If you would be so kind.”

“He’s going to be so mad.”

“Maybe he should have done what we agreed on then.”

Sas let out another laugh before composing herself and stepping back to the mess table. Anakin had apparently just decided to try to fit the armor over his robes, which worked, but anyone who knew Jedi robes would be able to see through the disguise. Sas felt less bad for him as she watched him slide the helmet over his head.

“What was the point in having me put together actual disguises if you were just going to put the armor on over your robes?” Sas asked as she plopped down on the bench and propped her head on her arms on the table. “It would have saved me a lot of time, you know.”

“Well its about time you’re back. What happened, the old man couldn’t dress himself?” Anakin said, turning to look down the hall waiting for his former master still.

“Well…something like that- You laced up the shoulder piece wrong by the way.”

“Can you fix it for me then?” Anakin asked, turning his back to the hallway again.

“I don’t know, last I heard only old men couldn’t dress themselves.”

“Sas, come on-”

“Fine, stop your fussing. Come here.” Sas shifted so she was kneeling on the couch and motioned for Anakin to stand in front of her facing the hallway again. “Just sit still, this will only take a second.”

“Then what’s taking Obi-Wan so long?”

“Well he’s wearing everything exactly the way I said to so-”

“Obi-Wan, what are you wearing?” Anakin exclaimed.

Obi-Wan stood at the edge of the room,standing a little taller and straighter, really attempting to test how well the fabric of the disguise would hold together. Now that Sas had a moment to catch her breath and clear her head, she took a moment to fully appreciate the lengths Obi-Wan went through to get back at Anakin. Revenge may not be the Jedi way, but Sas thought she was starting to understand why.

“Anakin stop moving-” Sas tried not to laugh as she yanked on the armor making him face Obi-Wan as he tried to look away from the Jedi Master.

“My disguise Anakin, I thought it was obvious,” Obi-Wan answered.

“Why are you wearing Ahsoka’s-”

“Oh no, Sas and I agreed this disguise was much too big for Ahsoka. We’ll just let her know she won’t be accompanying us on this mission.” 

Anakin tried to lift one of his arms to shield his eyes, but Sas just pulled on another one of the ties in the shoulder armor to get him to lower his hand. “Fine I’ll send holo to Shaak Ti, I’m sure-”

“Are you kidding?” Sas started, “You think she has time to make it all the way from Kamino? You leave tomorrow and you can’t pick her up on the way.”

“After all Anakin,” Obi-Wan cut in, “You did say you would prefer to work with someone who was familiar with- how did you describe it- your preparation style?”

“Fine, I’ll find someone else!”

“Frankly Anakin there's no one in the Order who knows you better than I do. It only makes sense that I should take this role.”

“I think it's a bit late for that, Ani-'' Sas said, finally letting go of the armor straps and letting him step away.

“Come on, Obi-Wan take it off. You’re not posing as the slave,” Anakin said, though he still wouldn’t look directly at Obi-Wan.

“Oh no, I believe I fit your requirements better than Ahsoka could.”

“I’ll find someone else, it won’t take me long.”

“No, you said you wanted someone with more experience following your plans, and these are the consequences for not making a proper plan.”

Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose. “There's gotta be someone else-”

“Someone else for what-” Ahsoka’s voice trailed off as she stopped in the opposite entrance.

Sas kept her grin contained as Rex, Ahsoka, and Pyrrha stood in the main hall staring in shock at Obi-Wan. Even though they were all struck differently, it was nice to know she wasn’t the one. Rex and Ahsoka shared similar wide eyed expressions of complete shock, Anakin still wouldn’t look directly at his former Master, and Pyrrha, clutching her helmet, was trembling as she tried to contain her laughter.

“Oh nothing,” Obi-Wan answered the padawan as he crossed over to lean against the couch next to Sas. “Anakin was just thinking I should be replaced. He should know better than that though.”

“Besides, General Kenobi here would get a much better deal than anyone else  we would pretend to sell,” Sas chimed in, as she shifted to give him a high five, only to have him clasp her hand in his. Her heart stopped for just a second, but she kept her hand in his.

“It’s not going to make any sense- we need a Togruta to get into the camp,” Anakin complained.

“Well, you do like to improvise, so we’ll improvise,” Obi-Wan answered calmly.

Ahsoka’s brows knitted together as if she were finally starting to make the connection. “I’m definitely not going to wear that,” she muttered, eyeing Obi-Wan skeptically.

“No, you’re not,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “It was already settled. I will be sold off, Anakin and Rex will be the ones to do that. Pyrrha, you may need to take Sas’ place as the third guard since she’s not medically cleared for the mission.”

Pyrrha finally wheezed out the giggles she had been trying to contain. “Wait, I thought the plan was to have four keepers.”

“I mean I have extra gear but that's going to be up to Anakin and if he can stick to the plan this time,” Sas teased.

Anakin sighed, “Yeah sure let's have four, Pyrrha you can switch with Obi-Wan, or maybe Jankari will do it-”

Before Pyrrha could answer, Obi-Wan spoke up again, “No, you just said he had to have a Togruta to get in the prison camps. A human woman isn’t going to get us any closer. I’m your best chance.”

“Master Jedi, Republic High General, makes him a valuable catch, on top of you know the look he has going for him,” Sas added, earning an eye roll from her friend across the room.

“Unless of course you’d like to volunteer to be the captive,” Obi-Wan continued looking pointedly at Anakin. “I’m sure Sas could make some last minute modifications-”

Anakin threw his hands up, “NO.”

“Then it’s settled,” Obi-Wan said, his grin growing wide under his beard.

“Wait one more thing,” Pyrrha started. Rex just tensed up next to her. Clearly the captain just wanted to grab his gear and go. “We gotta get a receipt for Kenobi when we sell him. They might try to get a refund for him after having him around for a while.”

“Oh no, there's no exchanges or returns for this sale,” Obi-Wan said with a small head shake.

“ Is that why Sas hasn’t been able to get rid of you yet?” Pyrrha added with a snicker.

Sas looked up at Obi-Wan, who was looking back down at her, and their hands still clasped together. She couldn’t get rid of him even if she wanted to, is what she wanted to say and she even offered him a small smile. He could probably tell what she was thinking anyway, nothing she said out loud would really matter. So instead she turned back to the group, Anakin had already disappeared down another hall to remove his armor, and said, “Hey Ahsoka, you wanna take Pyrrha’s place as a guard?”

“Does it mean I have to deal with more of,” Ahsoka gestured to the general area between where Anakin walked off and where Obi-Wan was still standing, “this?”

“Probably.”

“I think I’d rather deal with the younglings all week.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you as always for reading, commenting and sharing. I hope you enjoyed :3

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#star wars #obi wan kenobi #star wars oc #obi wan #Obi-Wan fanfic #obi-wan X OC #Star wars the clone wars fanfic #star wars fanfic #clone wars fanfic #Kadavo arc #Ahsoka had no business being in that position #This is what should have happened #Obi-Wan is tired of Anakin's shit #Obi-Wan has just had enough and is going to give Anakin exactly what he asked for these are just the consequences #Sas is also dumb though she takes one look at Obi-Wan and poor girl is gone

[weyrwolfen]

Clocking Time - Star Wars: The Clone Wars One-Shot

Rating: T

Characters: Commander Fox, Chancellor Palpatine

Warnings: Sheev being Sheev, but nothing particularly graphic is portrayed

Summary: Coruscant wasn’t the same as Kamino. Commander Fox needed to retrain his instincts.

“Commander, we have a few minutes between meetings,” the Chancellor said, shuffling through the datapads spread on his expansive desk. “I believe you mentioned a proposal you wished to make to me, regarding the Guard?”

Fox, from his unobtrusive position in against the office’s curving wall, breathed, steeling himself for this conversation.

He owed his men this. He had to at least try.

“Sir, it has to do with a personnel issue, and maximizing the efficiency of the troopers assigned to Coruscant,” Fox said, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back. Perfect.

The Chancellor looked up from his datapad, and there was something cold and dangerous in his eyes. Fox’s heart rate picked up, adrenaline surging. This was… this was a mistake. This was…

But then the Chancellor smiled so gently that Fox berated himself for his immediate, illogical reaction. Three months into this posting and his instincts, which previously had served him so well, were still flinching at shadows. He was better than this.

“Of course, Commander,” the Chancellor said, folding his hands in front of him on his desk, a signal that he was giving Fox his full attention. That was… That was good. “Tell me what is on your mind.”

Fox owed his men. He’d prepared for this. Meticulously.

“Three Guardsmen suffered permanently disabling injuries in yesterday’s speeder bombing,” Fox started, voice as coolly professional and emotionless as if he was discussing a theoretical situation, a logic puzzle presented in an exam. Not Sift’s mangled eyes, or Red’s severed legs, or Amber’s crushed spine. Bacta was a miracle treatment, but even it could only heal so much. Fox breathed, holding his composure under rigid control, and continued. “I am requesting that they be reassigned to the Guard’s communications hub, to free up able-bodied troopers for more physically demanding assignments.”

The Chancellor looked up at Fox, eyebrows furrowing slightly over flat, empty eyes, his expression concerned. “That seems reasonable enough,” he said, the barest hint of confusion entering his tone. “Is there a problem with such a transfer of which I am unaware?”

“Yes, Sir,” Fox said evenly. His breath was even, perfectly controlled, even while something in the back of his head screamed a warning. This was the Chancellor of the Republic, he held the lives of trillions of sentients in his hands, and Fox was wasting his time. For three clones who were no longer able to do their duties.

Fox owed them. He was their Commander. He owed them this attempt, even if it failed. Even if he suffered for it.

“Current protocol states that they should be returned to Kamino for processing, and replacements sent from the most recent cohort of mature clones,” Fox replied, dragging his eyes away from the kindly, patient – calculating, predatory – expression on the Chancellor’s face and instead focused on the cityscape sprawled beyond the office’s expansive windows. It was safe enough; with his helmet on the Chancellor wouldn’t be able to tell. The sprawling vista was as beautiful as it was daunting. Fox breathed. “However, these replacements would require significant training to be brought up to speed on the specifics of serving on the Coruscant Guard. Retaining the three injured troopers in a support capacity, and adjusting the Guard’s protocols in the event of similar situations in the future, would prevent these temporary decreases in unit readiness.”

Arguing with the Kaminoans was generally a losing proposition, but if you had to, it was possible to sway them with cold logic and brutal pragmatism. And Fox had been very good at speaking to them in a language they understood and respected. He’d been the best at it, at maneuvering them, at making it look like they had reached the conclusions he’d wanted on their own.

But that had been back on Kamino.

Coruscant was different. He was still learning its rules.

The Chancellor shifted in his ornate chair, drawing Fox’s eye back to the man’s face.

There was understanding there, compassion in the set of his mouth, the worried arch of his eyebrows. But his eyes, his eyes…

“And you care for them,” the Chancellor said with a small smile. Gentle. Understanding.

A trap.

Don’t mention love. Love wasn’t efficient, but ‘care’ could be twisted so that it aligned with the Kaminoans’ ledgers.

“I am their Commander,” Fox replied evenly. “It is my duty to care for the troopers under my command.”

It was the correct response, the only acceptable one, but there would be a cost. The Kaminoans always exacted a cost, so Fox was sure the Chancellor would too. But Fox would pay it. For his men.

“It seems a terrible injustice, to send these troopers away, especially for injuries they sustained in defense of the Senate,” the Chancellor said with a slightly wider smile, enough to convey a sense of real warmth and care.

A bead of sweat trickled down Fox’s back, between his shoulder blades.

“I am sure that you are more than able to make the proper arrangements,” the Chancellor said with an air of finality. “I leave it in your capable hands.”

That… was it? Fox had prepared more arguments. He had numbers. Statistics. Counteroffers.

“Thank you, Sir,” Fox said, because if you ever managed to win something off of the Kaminoans, you learned not to press your luck further.

“Now, I believe that my 2:30 from the regulatory oversight committee should be waiting,” the Chancellor said, clearly moving on to the next task on his schedule. “Please see them in.”

Fox moved to comply, smothering down his shaky relief so that it would not affect his performance. He was expected to perform perfectly, and so he would. He needed to be perfect, in the eyes of his owners. It was important.

But the Chancellor interrupted his progress, just as Fox was reaching for the door panel. “Oh, and Commander?” he said, voice smooth.

The hairs on the back of Fox’s neck prickled.

He turned to address the Chancellor, shoulders squared. Above reproach. Perfect. “Yes, Sir?”

“Execute Order Twenty-Three.”

Fox passed along the good news to the Guard’s CMO. Fox would check in with Sift, Red, and Amber in the morning. They were all recovering and needed all the sleep they could get. And besides, Fox needed to catch up on the day’s flimsiwork. Guard duty in the Chancellor’s office tended to make for an easy, often boring shift, but the messages and forms tended to pile up in his absence.

The shift had been uneventful, just a steady stream of politicians and lobbyists, business representatives and aides from interest groups. The report Fox would file with the Chancellor’s office would be deadly dull for all its meticulous detail. He did not envy whichever functionary was tasked with tracking and filing such things.

Coruscant might not be the posting he’d wanted, the one he’d envisioned for himself, but he would perform his duties as assigned, to the level of quality the Kaminoans had required. There was some pride to take in that.

Fox’s own secondhand desk was much smaller than the Chancellor’s, but he suspected that his chair was more comfortable. It had already been old and worn down when he’d arrived on Coruscant, but the chair was thickly cushioned, which was an almost decadent indulgence, after the hard planes and harsh angles of Kamino. Fox sat in the creaking chair, oddly sore and stiff for physically having done so little this shift. He tugged off his helmet and set it aside, reaching for the nearest datapad.

There was a whole new stack of datapads waiting on Fox’s desk, when he’d arrived fresh from talking to his men in the medbay the next morning, cup of dubious-smelling caff in hand. It looked like more of the usual, except for one file which had been flagged as medium priority. Apparently a junior aide from the regulatory oversight committee had not checked into his suite the previous night. The chair of that committee, a mid-Rim senator Fox had never met, had grown concerned enough to file a missing persons report.

Fox was certain he’d never met any of the sentients involved, but something about the file made him pause. Something familiar.

He shook off the odd tension which was gathering in his shoulders and forwarded the file to the correct department, moving on to the next report.

AN: I sat down to work on Eidola last night and instead my brain decided to cough up this.

#star wars fanfic #tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars fanfic #commander fox #Fox is playing 3d chess on the wrong board #cc 1010 #coruscant guard

[choppersconfirmedkills]

Sanguineous

adj; of or relating to bloodshed

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Platonic! Reader (it’s really ambiguous so see it how you want)

Word Count: 438

Genre: Angst. Fluff if you squint enough. Post Umbara arc

Warnings: mentions of loss, wars, bloodshed, and Krell. Which is a warning in and of itself

Day 2 of the New Year Drabbles!

How are you supposed to move on from this? A Jedi is not to form attachments, not supposed to grieve but a brutal tragedy like this? How do you come back from that? All those men, gone. Way beyond what would be necessary to win a battle like this. And to make it all worse? It wasn’t in the pursuit of victory, it was in the pursuit of destruction. It was bloody, tragic, and needless. An image that could never be erased from your mind. The man that had caused all this had turned to the dark side and only wanted to create meaningless slaughter. And you should have stopped it. You could’ve done more. 

“How are you doing?” A presence sat down beside you, one you knew immediately was Anakin.

“I don’t know what to feel. I know I’m supposed to accept what happened and move forward as that is the Jedi way. But all I want is to feel angry and enraged. Those were good men, and I should’ve stopped Master Krell,” you scoffed “I don’t even know if I should call him that anymore.”

“There wasn’t much you could’ve done. You were given orders to defer to him. And based upon the reports it sounds like he sent you away because you kept trying to defy him. You argued with him at every turn you could. Told him that what he was doing was going to cause needless deaths. You did all you could, and in my eyes, you saved a whole lot of those men. I know this isn’t what the council would recommend but grieving is okay, it means you care about those men, and that you know they didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“How do I go forward from here?” you asked, a stray tear leaving your eye. 

“No one knows. At least I certainly don’t. But what I do know is that you won’t be doing it alone. We are a package deal, and I will be by your side through all of it and so will those men.” Anakin gestured out to the sea of clones aboard your star cruiser. “They know what you did for them. I know what you did for them. Bloodshed is a consequence of war but that doesn’t make it any less heartbreaking, Y/N. We can’t stop fighting now. We need to keep doing the right thing, for those men and for the people of the Republic.”

“Anyone told you that you’re good at those inspirational speeches?” You cracked out a sniffle. “You could honestly be a senator.”

“Eh, maybe in another lifetime.”

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker angst #star wars imagine #star wars rebels fanfic #star wars the clone wars imagine #star wars the clone wars fanfic

[thechaoticfanartist]

The Clone Wars Gets A New Victim

Timeline: 22 BBY - 19 BBY

(Main) Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Grim Kennet, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano

Summary: A retelling of The Clone Wars and Revenge Of The Sith with a new character added into the story. One who is determined to change it. But is it possible to rewrite fate?

Rated: Teen and up

Warnings: Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Tags: Canon divergent, friends to lovers, tragedy, hurt/comfort, Jedi as found family

Series: it came from tragedy

Story Established: October 2021

OC Established: February 2020

A03 | Wattpad

Masterlist

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Age: 35 - 38

Homeworld: Stewjon

Master: Qui-Gon Jinn

Padawan: (Formerly) Anakin Skywalker, (Currently) Grim Kennet

Love Interest: N/A, implied to have once had a past relationship with Satine Kryze

Theme Song(s): A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers, Light by Sleeping At Last

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Jedi Master who is on the Jedi Council. His life is meant for infinite sadness. He knows this, and yet he hopes still. He is bright in the Force. A beacon of light against all of the darkness. Before the outbreak of The Clone Wars Obi-Wan trained Anakin Skywalker. The younger Jedi being knighted after the first battle of Geonosis. He is caring and compassionate, and a warrior both on the battlefield and with words. And he prefers to negotiate rather than fight. He can only guide his Padawans to make the right choices and stay connected to the light, although he wishes they would accept his help.

Grim Kennet

Age: 14 - 17

Homeworld: Earth

Master: Obi-Wan Kenobi

Padawan: N/A

Love Interest: Ahsoka Tano

Theme Song(s): The Fixer by Brent Morgan, Atlantis by Seafret, All Things End by Hozier, I'll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last, Two by Sleeping At Last, Eight by Sleeping At Last, Youth by Daughter

Grim Kennet is the Jedi Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi, but there is far more to her than one might know. Grim originally was from Earth and was a fan of the Star Wars franchise. One day in the middle of May in 2020, Grim ended up in The Clone Wars. From then on she made it her goal to change the story of the war to favor the Jedi. She learns to navigate the blurred lines of fiction and reality. Grim keeps many secrets and struggles with the constant battle of light and darkness. She is stubborn to a fault, and is kind and caring. Although she must be wary of her anger and fear that may lead her down a darker path.

Anakin Skywalker

Age: 19 - 22

Homeworld: Tatooine

Master: Obi-Wan Kenobi

Padawan: Ahsoka Tano

Love Interest: Padmé Amidala

Theme Song(s): Monster by Imagine Dragons, A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers, Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace, Traitor by Daughtry

Anakin Skywalker is the Chosen One destined to bring balance to the Force. Formerly the Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin now has a Padawan of his own. He must learn how to teach his own student while navigating a war and the storm inside his heart. Keeping many secrets that it claws at him. And a dragon whispers inside "all things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out." His life is out of his control and he wants that control back. He needs it. The darkness inside of him eats him alive, and he barely fights it anymore. His fear and anger may just be the downfall of the whole galaxy.

Ahsoka Tano

Age: 14 - 17

Homeworld: Shili

Master: Anakin Skywalker

Padawan: N/A

Love Interest: Grim Kennet

Theme Song(s): Moondust by Jaymes Young, Say Something by A Great Big World, Karma by AJR, My Way by Frank Sinatra

Ahsoka Tano is the Jedi Padawan of Anakin Skywalker. She learns to grow throughout The Clone Wars, wondering what her place is. She must learn to find herself. Navigating through war and emotions. She is kind and stubborn, and snippy at times earning her the nickname "Snips" from her Master. Eventually she must find her place in the galaxy on her own.

#grim kennet #star wars #my oc #star wars oc #jedi oc #star wars the clone wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #ahsoka tano x oc #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars fanfic #the clone wars #the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #tcw fanfic #tcw fanfiction #swtcw #sw tcw #fic: the clone wars gets a new victim #series: it came from tragedy

[annwayne]

Delayed Fate - A Story from The Red Logs

Chapter 1/3

Next Chapter ->

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 2395

Fic Summary:

Written for the Love & Lust Flash Fic Contest in The Erotica Abyss (chapter 2)

After splitting up a fight between two clones in her bar, Anya finds herself in the company of the most interesting clone she's ever come across-and she's known a *lot* of clones. (And if you squint-plot)

Or

How Anya and Crosshair's fates first intertwined.

AO3 Link

Warnings for whole fic:

Violence, Injury, Blood, At Home Medical Treatment, Biting, Praise, Gloves, Dom/Sub undertones, PinV sex, Oral Sex (F &M Receiving), Fingering

Authors Note:

A little Valentines gift. Three chapters in total, chapter one today, two tomorrow, and three... in a few days? I'm working on it lol.

The night started out like all other nights. Busy. 

“Six beers to table three, send two Star Vines to table eight, and please no one serve anymore alcohol to the pair of clones by the door attempting to solicit anyone who comes within a ten foot radius.” I, as usual, was in the middle of it all. “They need to sober up if they’re going to find their way back to the barracks.” I sighed, glancing at the clones in question as Lynn and Jayas nodded in agreement. Another normal night taking orders, making drinks, and mingling with the main clientele of my bar-clones. 

Everything considered, I couldn’t complain. Busy was paid bills and a focused mind. No more petty theft just to survive-though Jayas didn’t let that last for too long. No more time lost to memories I buried and locked away deep in my psyche. No, no more problems when I was busy. I was grateful for it, even at the cost of sleep and a sore body. Yes, everything was normal when I was busy.

That was, until a fight broke out by the darts.

The first signs were the unbroken string of swears that rivaled even Jayas’ stubbed toe speech. Then a crowd formed in that semicircle shape that either meant an arm wrestling contest…or a fight. I didn’t think to actually go check until I heard the dull thunk that only armor hitting armor could make. 

“Hey!” I yelled as I stomped through the bar floor, weaving through groups of clones unaware of what was going on. By the time I reached the dance floor enough patrons had gathered around the fight that I had to shove my way through them. “Break it up!” I yelled again as I emerged from the line of white armor made purple by the lights above. Jeering mixed with the pounding music from speakers above, drowning all attempts to talk the clones down. So, without a second thought I jumped into the mess of black and white armor. 

One was on the ground by that point, on his hands and knees with what I suspected was blood dripping from his mouth. I faced white armor first, thinking the fight over. Instead, I felt a long forgotten spark of force–warning. Electricity spiked through my limbs. It spun me on my toes just in time to see the clone in dark armor come up with his fist aimed to uppercut the other clone. Or would have, if I wasn’t in the way. 

Seconds. Pupils shrunk in realization. Less than a second to stop. Anyone normal would lose a tooth or two. I wasn’t. But I was out of practice.

I dodged in time to keep all my teeth in, but not in time to save my shoulder from cracking. 

The impact pushed me off stance and I stumbled back into the intended target. Both men dropped their fists, rage forgotten for a heartbeat. 

Then the crowd jumped in. 

“Get him!” 

“Kick him out!” 

“Get outta here!”

Clones yelled at the other in dark armor while I blinked back tears threatening from the pain. Now wasn’t the time. Jayas and Fathal had abandoned the bar and were running over to check on me. Lyn watched from across the bar, serving tray clutched against her chest as she gasped. A swarm of angry clones pushed the one in dark armor back till he was trapped against the dartboards, the fight in his eyes undeterred by the numbers growing against him. Blood trailed down his busted lip. Before the one v one could turn into a one v bar, I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled. All eyes landed on me. 

“You.” I turned to the clone I had fallen into–he hadn’t moved. His face was pulled into confusion and worry. Though he had sobered up considerably compared to when I jumped into the fight, he was slow to turn his attention back on me. Then, I turned to the sea blocking my path to the other clone. It parted without any orders from me and revealed him. Our eyes met and, even in the dim light, I could see he wasn't like other clones. “You. With me.” 

No one, clone, patron, or employee alike stood in my path as I escorted the pair behind me to one of the few private places in the bar–the office. A tiny room that fit two chairs and one square desk, tucked back into a nook made by all the filing cabinets and boxes lining the walls. Bright yellow light hurt my eyes as we stepped inside. Once the door closed behind us, I turned to face the clones. Now that I could properly see them, their injuries were on full display.

So were their differences. 

“Take a seat.” I gestured towards the chairs in the tight room. One sat normally. The other spun the chair around and sat facing its back. 

I found myself questioning if the man in black (and red) armor was even a clone. He was skinnier and, even though he was sitting, taller than the other clone. At first glance I thought his silver hair was dyed, but then I noticed peach fuzz growing along his jaw–also silver. And then his face–long and sharp thanks to the gaunt look his cheekbones gave him. No one would think this was a clone if they didn’t know better. But I’d seen hundreds of clones. He shared the same deep brown eyes that I’ve looked into hundreds of times before. Maybe there was no other clone like him, but he was a clone. 

And a tough one too. My gaze flicked to the trail of dried blood that ran down a busted lip to his chin. I also noticed purple slowly crawling from his left cheek. He’d come back up swinging despite the hits that landed.

Then I turned to the other clone. His armor was decorated in red stripes, the sign of a clone assigned to the Coruscant Guard. Great. Another reason for Commander Fox to hate my establishment. Unlike the silver haired clone, he was much more typical. He had cropped dark hair, brown eyes, and a full face–albeit made swollen by what would be a black eye given time. Otherwise, the only unique feature to him was a large tattoo that snaked around his neck and climbed up his jawbone. I recognized him from a few other visits, all without incident before. 

Pain spiked behind my thoughts. The only barrier keeping it from consuming me was the need to sort everything out before I could retreat upstairs to slap bacta onto my shoulder. Somehow. I’d figure out the logistics later. For now, my attention was on the troublemakers. 

“What’s your name?” I asked the clone in red stripes. 

His brows pulled together and his eyes darted around the small room. Panic ran through his face, though he still answered me. “CT-823-”

“No,” I cut him off. Trooper numbers were for reports and people who wanted to make clones feel lesser. I wasn’t the latter, and I hadn’t yet decided on the former. “Your name.” Between the effort of submitting an official report to the GAR, Commander Fox’s pre-established distaste for anywhere that let clones get a little too “loose,” and knowledge I needed to treat my shoulder, the chances I’d bother were low. The tipping vote depended on what all of this was about. 

“Binder, ma’am.” 

“Binder, what happened?” 

He glanced up to me, then at the other clone. 

To his credit, the other clone kept his mouth shut. Not that, I suspected, he needed to use his mouth to say much. His arms draped over the back of the chair and his legs spread out wide to support his posture–rather casual for someone who could get into trouble with his superiors. He kept a Sabacc face, betrayed only by the toothpick that wouldn’t keep still between his lips. (Where did he get a toothpick?)

“He was cheating at darts.” Binder muttered.

I got punched. Over a game of darts? “That’s it?” 

Binder shot out of his seat, hearing the disapproval in my words. He pointed at the other clone. “He was! No one can beat my score!” 

“I did.” The silver haired clone interjected. 

Even his voice was different, more gravel and less pavement. 

The taller clone straightened his back, looking up to meet Binder’s flushed face with a shit-eating grin he knowingly used as bait for another fight. Before Binder could take it, I stepped between the pair once again. After swearing under his breath, Binder returned to his seat. The other clone gave me a smirk. I didn’t reciprocate.   

It was a clear holo of what led to the night’s events, in the flesh. “So you beat Binder at darts,” The clone kept his lazy grin. “Flaunted more than you ought to, and got punched for it?” His lips dropped, slightly less pleased with himself when I laid it out like that. 

“More or less…” 

Stars, his voice instantly captivated me. The universe was cruel to drop this man in my lap this way. What would that voice sound like in my ear while he had me pushed against the wall? Would he grunt? Moan? Growl? I took a deep breath.

“How many drinks tonight?” I asked Binder.

Begrudgingly, Binder answered. “Four.” Then he added, “Thermals.”

Four Thermal Detonators. No wonder his temper got the best of him. “Alright, here’s what I’ll do.” I turned around and rummaged through the cabinets with minor difficulty. “I’ll chalk tonight up to more beer than you can handle,” I glanced back at Binder long enough to ensure he knew I was talking about him. Then, I rooted through a collection of various computer parts and some wayward screws until I found what I was looking for. “And someone who doesn't know the rules of my bar.” With the prize in hand I turned back around and looked at the clone in question. Both men met me with confused expressions, one big and curious and the other tight and suspicious. 

“Take this before you sleep tonight,” With my left hand, I threw a tiny vial at Binder. He caught it against his chest. “It’ll help you metabolize the alcohol.” A spike of pain in my right arm demanded attention, so I rushed to wrap up. “Hangover prevention, if you will.”

Binder studied the clear liquid within the vial carefully before glancing back up at me. “I’m not going to report either of you.” The clones didn’t move. “You’re free to go.” I gestured to the door with my left hand, acutely aware of the pain surrounding my right. 

Binder left first, and it was then I realized I never asked the other clone his name. Pain was gnawing at my thoughts, but I had to ask. “Wait.” I rounded the doorframe in time to see the mystery clone walking down the long hall to the back exit. Binder was already gone. “What’s your name?” 

He stopped. I watched as he pulled something out of his mouth–the toothpick–and held it between his fingers like a death stick. “You said so yourself. You aren’t reporting this. I don’t need to tell you my name.” Faux-death stick returned to his lips.

“No, but I’m still asking.” 

We stood there. Strides apart. With me leaning against the doorframe of my office trying to ignore the heartbeat caught in my collarbone and him with slack shoulders and a downturned head. The longer the silence went on the harder it was to ignore the pain.  

“Why?” He broke the spell and turned around, facing me with narrowed eyes.

A feeble smile spread across my lips. “I’d at least like to know the name of the man who broke my shoulder.” 

His jaw clenched and I regretted my teasing. His eyes fell to my shoulder. “You think it’s broken?” 

“I think you’ve got one hell of a punch.” My lips curved into a smirk. Pain burst like a hot flame all around my shoulder, up my neck, and down my arm, causing my expression to falter. I took a step off the wall, then two, then four. When I reached him his gaze dropped behind me.

“I wasn’t aiming at you.” 

“Trust me, I know.” I looked up into his eyes and realized I’d missed something. Thin black lines made a reticle around his right eye. I had gotten so lost in his differences with other clones, I didn’t even see the difference he chose. Half of a laugh escaped my lips. “You’re lucky I’ve got quick reflexes, or I might need more than a little bacta to fix this up.” I dipped my head towards the door that led to the stairwell just behind him. He followed my gaze. “Which, if you don’t mind,”  I moved past him towards the door. “I’ve put off long enough.”  

With a hiss, the automatic door opened and I entered the stairwell. Metal echoed up the high ceiling as I climbed up the steps. It was quiet. So my thoughts were loud. 

You felt the force again. I felt the force again. You are a Jedi and yet you hide your power and strength. I’m no Jedi, I’m not powerful, I have no strength. You let him go and now he’ll never come back. I’ll never know his name. 

I gripped the railing, feeling a wave of nausea threaten in my throat. My breath turned rapid and the stairs before me started to shake. Just as I thought my grip would slip, I heard the doors open again. Quickly, I straightened up and turned to see Jayas. Except, that wasn’t Jayas.

Instead, there stood the clone with silver hair and a reticle tattoo.

“Hey.” He looked up to me. “You need any help?”

Every inch of my body felt like a live wire. Finding my voice took a moment. “Depends.” I managed. One silver brow raised in question at my answer. “You gonna tell me your name?” 

A slight smirk pulled his lips up. He nodded his head once before climbing the stairs to reach my height. Once he was one step below me, he leaned in just enough to make my buzzing heart flutter. “Crosshair.” 

I swallowed. “Nice to meet you, Crosshair. My name’s Anya.” 

Dividers by Djarrex

#The Red Logs - Related Stories #Delayed Fate - A Story From The Red Logs #star wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars fanfic #sw tcw fanfic #star wars the prequels fanfic #sw prequels fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #star wars the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfic #crosshair/oc (anya tougt) #crosshair/anya tougt #first meeting fic #first kiss fic #first time fic

[cookiesabode]

@ladysongmaster-library I love your fics so much they’re just so 🥰✨💖💕💞 they’re so sweet; so cute!!! I’ve been reading every night for the past few days and I- *giddy giggling* AH! I love how much energy and detail you put into each one of them I could just die!!!

#reaction image #free reaction image #sw tcw #sw tcw fanfic #sw tcw fanfiction #sw tcw fic #sw tcw fics #star wars the clone wars #star wars the clone wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars fic #star wars the clone wars fics #star wars the clone wars fanfic #clone x reader #sw tcw clone x reader #tbb fic #tbb fanfiction #tbb fanfic #tbb fics #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb clone x reader

[monako-jinn-stories]

Echo X Fem!Reader FanFic

A Returning Echo ~ After the Citadel

Main Master List

Story Master List

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Four

“Come on, Tayah,” you say as you prepare breakfast, “you need to get up and eat so you can get to training.” No response comes, but you sense her annoyance through the force. You sigh as you set your plates down on the table, deciding to just sit and eat without her. “If you don’t come out and eat, you’ll go to training without breakfast.” Still no response, but she does come out of the room with an annoyed expression on her face.

When she sits down, she doesn’t eat. Instead, she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand and mindlessly moves the food around her plate. “Do I have to go?” she finally says, keeping her eyes down on her plate

“Elbow, Tayah,” you comment, and she grumbles as she moves her elbow from the table. “Now, I know you don’t like training, but you still have to go.”

“But why?” she whines, dropping her fork as she slouches in her seat.

“Tayah,” you say sternly, looking down at her. She avoids meeting your gaze but sits up, grabbing her fork and beginning to eat. “I don’t have permission to remove you from your training, only Master Yoda or Master Windu can do so.”

“Can you tell them I don’t want to train?”

“No. If you don’t want to train anymore, you can tell them yourself.”

“But I’m scared!”

“I can go with you,” you offer, and she finally meets your eyes. A flash of hope swirls in hers, and she begins to smile. “But,” you add, “you have to do the talking.” Her smile falls, but then it returns as she nods. 

“When can we go?”

“After your training today,” you say, standing and taking your empty plate to the sink. She whines from behind you, but you toss her a look over your shoulder and she stops. “Finish up eating. I’ll take you to your dormitory afterwards so you can get ready.”

“Why can’t you just take me now?” she asks, finishing her food and bringing her plate to you.

“Because,” you say while rinsing it off, “I have some things that I need to do before.”

“Like what?”

“Like Jedi stuff,” you respond. “Now, are you ready to go?”

“I guess,” she says, slouching over where she stands. 

“Alright, then let’s go,” you say, motioning for her to leave. When your door opens, she mopes out into the hall. You can tell that she really isn’t looking forward to training, but there isn’t anything you can do about it right now. You especially don’t want to make anyone angry for keeping her back, so this is your only choice.

As you walk, you don’t pay much attention to who you pass. Your mind is too occupied, so when Tayah shouts at Codo, you don’t notice until she runs up to him.

“Hello, little one,” Codo says, a smile coming to his face as he picks her up. “Where are you off to?”

“Y/n is making me go to training,” she replies, a sour expression coming to her face.

“Do you not like training?”

“No! Everyone is mean and doesn’t listen. The other younglings bully me as well.”

“Ah, I see,” Codo says, looking at you. “And you’re aware of this, I assume?”

“Yes, but I don’t have time to take her to the Council about it right now. Her training for today starts soon and I have other things to do before I leave for Dohbar.”

“I can take her to the Masters if you’d like,” Codo offers, and you nod.

“If you wouldn’t mind, that would be great. I’d hate to make her go if she really doesn’t want to.”

“Of course, my dear,” Codo replies, “she is my bu’ad after all.”

“Ba’buir!” Tayah cheers, giggling after she says the Mando’a word. “I remembered it!”

“Do you remember what it means?” Codo asks, and Tayah nods excitedly.

“It means grandfather! And bu’ad means grandchild!”

“Good job!” Codo says, poking her nose playfully. “Now, let’s go tell those ruug’la jetiise about your training.”

“You better not let them catch you calling them that,” you call after Codo as he begins to take Tayah away, “besides, you’re ruug’la as well.”

“Hush, I didn’t ask for your input,” he jokingly shoots back, and you just roll your eyes and smile as Tayah and him both stick their tongues out at you before heading into the elevator. You hope that the Council will come to a good decision or solution for Tayah. You don’t want her to keep getting bullied and hate training, but you don’t want her potential to be wasted. She’s already shown you that she’s strong with the force, but she doesn’t seem to want to expand on it.

You push Tayah out of your mind for the time being, as you have other things to do. You can only hope that what you’re about to do goes as well as you hope, or preferably better. 

The streets of Coruscant have always felt dangerous to you, especially district G17, but now that you have “precious cargo” with you, it feels even more dangerous. You do your best to fit in, acting normal as you walk around. Your lightsaber is hidden, and you show no sign of being a Jedi. It’s the best you can do when meeting up with Cad Bane.

“Not so fast, pretty lady,” a weequay man says from outside a bar. “I got a little question for you.”

“The answer’s no,” you respond, not pausing in your walk to speak to him. He isn’t deterred though, and starts to follow you.

“What’s someone like you doing down here?” he asks, “you charging for a fun time?”

“Kriff off,” you say, “I’m not here to do business with you.”

“Oh, you’re doing business with someone, how interesting.”

“I never said that, I just said I wasn’t doing business with you,” you counter.

“Come on, kitten, just join me in this alleyway for a few minutes. I got 20 credits on me.”

You snort in amusement and disgust at his words. “I am worth more than 20 credits.”

“And she’s not here to make a deal with scum like you,” Bane says, coming around the corner. “Step away from the little lady.”

“Or what?” the weequay says, grabbing your arm and pulling you against his chest. You hate being helpless, so you don’t wait for Bane to react. You bring up your knee before kicking back, striking the man’s knee, causing him to let go of his grip on you and fall to the ground. You then move in front of him and grab the back of his head, lifting his face up so that you can ram your knee into it. You hear and feel a crunch with the impact, and when he drops to the ground, he’s unconscious with a broken and bloody nose.

“I thought Jedi were supposed to show mercy,” Bane says, and you let out a dry huff.

“Well, I’m trying to blend in as a normal civilian right now,” you respond, turning to him. “Besides, I’m not as merciful as most Jedi, especially when it comes to myself and those I care about. Now, care to take me somewhere we can talk privately?”

“Right this was, my lady,” he says, motioning for you to follow him. He leads you over to a speeder, and before you get on, he hands you a helmet. 

“What’s this for?” you ask, not quite trusting it.

“I don’t want you to see how to get to this place,” Bane explains. “This helmet will block you from seeing.”

“Why don’t you want me to know where we’re going?”

“Because, Jedi,” he says, “I might work with you, but I don’t trust you. You could get tired or bored of me at any moment and turn me in to the authorities.”

“Fair point I guess,” you say, putting the helmet on. He helps you onto the speeder before getting on in front of you. “Just be careful. If I fall off, I’ll have a hard time catching myself with this on.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he replies, “you’ll be safe with me.” As soon as he finishes his sentence, you feel the bike jolt forward as he accelerates. You quickly reach forward, grabbing onto him so that you don’t fly backward. You hear him chuckling, and glare into the darkness of the helmet, hoping that he can sense your annoyance.

The ride is silent, and you try to use the force to track where you’re going, but he seems to have predicted you would do this, because he’s going in circles and getting you mixed up in your mind. After a while you give up, relaxing and just holding on as he speeds around Coruscant. The hum of the speeder and darkness surrounding you makes you tired, and you begin to feel yourself dozing off. Your head ends up resting against Bane’s back as he flies the speeder, and when he finally stops, Bane turns slightly to shake you back awake.

“Tired?”

“It’s been a long few weeks…” you sigh, stretching your arms out before getting off the speeder. “Can I take this off yet?”

“Wait a few more minutes,” he replies, grabbing your elbow and leading you inside a building. He silently takes you up a set of stairs and down a hall before pausing, and after a second you hear buttons being pushed and a door opening. Once inside, he closes the door and tells you that you can remove the helmet. When you do, you immediately notice that he’s brought you to an apartment.

“Did you bring me to your home?” you ask curiously, taking in the bare room before you.

“You wanted somewhere private to talk, this is as private as it gets,” he says. “Shoes off at the door, I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve been walking in.”

“Someone is a clean freak,” you mumble, and when you bend down to remove your shoes, you feel something poke your head before bouncing off. You look at the ground and see a toothpick at your feet, and then you look up at Bane in slight confusion. “Did you just throw a toothpick at me?”

“Be respectful to me in my own home and it won’t happen again,” he responds. You just roll your eyes before bending down again and taking your shoes off. “So, what did you want to meet up to talk about? And why did you need somewhere private to talk?”

“I need to know I can trust you first,” you say as you move to a seat, and he just stares at you blankly. “I’m serious, Bane.” 

“Fine. You can trust me.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and trying to settle your thoughts. You can’t believe you’re about to admit this to Bane, but you need protection from the underworld and crime world in case the wrong people find out. “I’m pregnant.”

The air in the room goes stiff, and you open your eyes to see Bane’s shocked expression. He stares at you quietly, and you wait patiently for his response.

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough. I’m more than halfway through, and the Jedi Council knows.”

“Does anybody else?”

“A few troopers, people from Dohbar, a couple other Jedi, and a few trustworthy senators.”

“Hmm,” Bane hums, leaning over and holding his chin as he thinks. “Why are you trusting me with this information?”

“I have a favor to ask you.”

“I don’t know anyone who gives late term terminations if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“What? No!” you say, slight offense filling your tone, “I need your protection.”

“Protection? From what? I’m not a bodyguard,” he says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back.

“From bounty hunters and whoever else might want to hurt her when she’s born.”

“Ah, so the princess is having a little princess of her own,” he comments.

“Focus, Bane,” you say. “Can you do it or not?”

“Sure,” he says, “on one condition.”

“What?”

“Let me visit her,” he says, and you blink at him in shock. 

“What?”

“Let me visit her. I’ll be an…honorary uncle.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” he asks, and you shake your head. “I’m serious. I want to be a part of her life.”

“Why?”

“Because, then I can also keep a better eye on her. I can come up with cover stories if I need to. And, I happen to like babies. I think they’re quite cute.”

“Fine,” you agree. “But you’re not allowed to take her anywhere, and your visits will be supervised.”

“Fine by me,” he says. You reach out and shake hands with him, but he surprises you by doing something he’s never done before, and something you’d never expect him to do. His arms wrap around you in a hug, and for a second you stand stiff, but then you return the gesture. 

“I can see in your eyes that you’re hurting, y/n,” he says as he holds you. “You’re grieving. I can only wonder who it is.”

“Her father,” you whisper, and his hold on you tightens slightly.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Did he know?”

“No. I stupidly told him that I had a surprise for him and would tell him about it when he got back to Coruscant from his mission.”

“And I’m guessing he never returned?” You shake your head no, and he nods. “I’ll protect your daughter for him, and for you. I’ll do everything I can.”

“Thank you, Bane.” You pull away from him then and wipe the few tears that had started to fall. When you meet his eyes again, a new look is in them. Genuine care and friendship is there, and you smile at him. He gives you his own small smile back before you put on your shoes and head out. 

“If you don’t mind,” he says, holding the helmet out to you. You take it without complaint, and sit on the back of the speeder as he takes you back to district G17. Once there, you take the helmet off and realize that he hadn’t actually taken you to district G17. He’d taken you right outside the Jedi Temple.

“Didn’t want you wandering the streets alone,” he explains, and you smile again at him. He nods his goodbye and takes off, and then you make your way up the stairs and back inside.

Once inside, your comm begins to go off. You answer it and are surprised to hear Mace’s voice.

“Hello, Master Jinn,” he says, “are you free to come by the Council room?”

“Uh, sure, I just got back to the Temple, and I will be leaving soon, but I can stop by real quick.”

“Great, we will see you in a few, then.”

The comm ends and you head to the elevator, stopping to drop by your quarters and grab your robe on the way up. Once there, you notice that only a few of the masters are present. Codo, Plo, Yoda, and Mace are the ones here, and they’re standing in the center of the room.

“Ah, y/n,” Plo says when you step out of the elevator, “thank you for coming on short notice.”

“Of course, Master Plo,” you respond. “Is everything alright?”

“We called you here to talk about Tayah Caree,” Mace says, and you nod in understanding. “We know that you are already aware of Codo bringing her to us earlier to tell us of her dissatisfaction and incidents during training, but we also have spent some time further analyzing her situation.”

“We have noticed a trend with her, and that trend is that she is not able to let go of her attachments as other younglings have,” Plo explains. “Her connection to her brother specifically is holding her back. As he makes friends and progresses, she is holding herself back with wanting to remain close to him, and is unable to do as he does and move on.”

“And while she is strong with the force, she does not often connect to it, and when she does, she struggles to do so,” Mace finishes.

“I see,” you say, looking between them. “If you’re telling me this and wanting me to help, I’m afraid I don’t know what I could possibly do. I might be able to try and talk to her some more, but I don’t want her to grow to rely on others too much.”

“Actually, y/n, we’re not asking you to help Tayah with this,” Mace says, “we’re asking if you can take her back to Dohbar with you. We have discussed it and we have decided that we do not see her fit to become a Jedi.”

“We know that separating her and Ringo will be hard, but we believe it is for the best.”

You think about the situation for a second. You want the best for the twins, but you’d hate to be the one to separate them. But, you don’t really have a choice, either, and you had already been the one to separate them from their parents before. Besides, Tayah has expressed wanting to end her training, so perhaps it won’t be all that bad for her.

“Alright, masters,” you say, “I’ll take her back with me when I go to Dohbar today.”

“Thank you, Master Jinn,” Mace says. You nod in response, meeting Codo’s eyes before you turn to leave the room. You hear him say something to the others before he joins you as you get into the elevator.

“I know it will be difficult to separate them,” he says, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to come along with you.”

“Sure, sounds great,” you say. “I know Ahni and Kwol will be glad to see you, and you can help me with some preparations.”

“Preparations for what?” he questions, and you smile at him while placing a hand on your bump.

“For Echoa, of course,” you say before stepping out of the elevator and starting down the hall to your quarters. “I’m planning on leaving at 1500,” you say, “do you think you could meet me on the royal transport at that time?”

“Yes, and I can bring Tayah as well,” he says. You nod and thank him before heading into your room, where you pack up and prepare for your trip home.

When you head down to the hangar, you spot some familiar looking armor. A grin spreads across your face and you decide to sneak up on one of the troopers. The others around him notice you, but you quickly motion for them to act oblivious. Hardcase barely hides his smirk, and Fives notices his expression quiver. You curse silently to yourself when you realize he’s beginning to turn around.

“What are you looking-AH.” As Fives begins to turn around, you sneak up behind him, and take your opportunity to grab him when he isn't looking. “Kriffing hells, y/n,” he says when he turns to see you laughing with the others. “I’m sensitive.”

“Oh, yeah, alright,” you laugh, and he shakes his head while grinning as well. “Where are you boys off to today?” you ask.

“General Skywalker has orders to go back to Felucia,” Fives says, “I’m not too excited about it.”

“Maybe you’ll run into a rancor,” you say, and a sour expression comes to Fives’s face.

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping to not happen.”

“What, you don’t think they’re cute?” you tease, and he shakes his head and points over his shoulder.

“Hardcase here will probably try to ride it,” he says.

“And I’ll have to deal with the consequences,” Rex comments as he walks over. “Good to see you, y/n.”

“And you too, Rex,” you reply. “Excited to go back to Felucia?”

“No,” he responds, scrunching his face in disgust.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t think it’s that bad there?”

“Yes,” they all say, and you just roll your eyes before giggling. 

“Alright, I’ll let you all finish getting ready. I have somewhere to go as well.”

“Oh, really? Where is it?” Fives asks, “maybe I can escort you-”

“You’re not getting out of going to Felucia, Fives,” Rex states, and Fives just dramatically sighs and mopes back over to the ship. You laugh again and wave to them as you turn away. When you do, you spot Sans, Hex, Steele, Aid, and Tie all making their way onto the transport with their packs. 

“So, what are your plans for us on Dohbar?” Sans asks when you join them on the transport.

“You’re going to help me prepare a nursery and decorate,” you say, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean, unless you want to do something else.”

“I will happily help you prepare for you baby, mesh’la,” he responds before adding, “I also do want some time to be lazy.”

“Don’t worry, Sans,” you say, offering him a smile, “you’ll have plenty of time to be lazy.”

“Hey, y/n,” Tie calls from the cockpit, “what’re the coords for Dohbar again?”

“I’ll help him,” Codo calls, and you head to the back to catch up with the others.

“Hey now,” Aid says as you walk into the sleeping quarters, “be careful with that.”

“I will!” Tayah says, and you look to see her holding a blaster and aiming it around.

“Tayah, give that to me,” you say, walking over and taking the blaster from her. “Now, whose bright idea was it to give a child a blaster?”

“Ah, relax, y/n,” Steele says, “we were using the ends of blasters as binkies when we were babies.”

“Well Tayah didn’t, and she doesn’t know how to properly handle a blaster anyway.” You go to give Steele his blaster back, but when you look at it, you notice something that makes you angry. “The stun wasn’t even on! She could have shot one of you!”

“Calm down, y/n, it’s alright,” Sans says, resting a hand on your shoulder. “No one got hurt-”

“But they could have!” you say, pushing his arm off your shoulder. “Don’t you think that, with everything I’ve been through lately, you should be smarter about these sorts of things?”

“For the record, I told them it was a bad idea,” Hex says, and you just shoot him a glare.

“Look, I don’t want to yell, and I don’t want to be angry at you guys, but please, don’t do stuff to start risky situations when they can be avoided.”

“Sorry, y/n,” Steele says, and you give him a small smile.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for yelling,” you say before turning to Tayah. “Your mother will hear nothing of this.” She nods and mimics zipping her lips, and you grin at her before sitting on your bunk. As you do, Tie begins to yell and call you all up front. His voice sounds unsettled, so you tell Tayah to stay in the back while you all go see what’s going on.

“It appears we’re not going to have a very peaceful flight,” Codo says, and you look out the viewport as a Separatist ship faces you.

“We’re in a royal transport, why would they want anything to do with us?” you ask.

“Perhaps they’re hoping to assassinate a leader,” Hex says, “too bad the only leader we have is a Jedi.”

“They’re pullin’ us in tuh board,” Tie says, “I can’t fight it.”

“I guess we have to get ready to fight, then,” you say, grabbing your lightsaber as the feeling of the ships connecting shakes you.

“I’ll go see what’s going on,” Sans says, but you immediately grab his arm to stop him and pull him back.

“If they see that you’re a clone, they’re going to suspect that there’s more, and I don’t need you getting killed.”

“Aw, I’m glad you care about me, mesh’la,” he counters, “but it’s my duty to protect you and my little niece.”

“Sans, you will not leave this ship unless I tell you to,” you say, “that is an order.”

“Respectfully, I’m not going to follow your order.”

“Fine. I’m at least going with you, and I’m going first.”

“No-”

“I can knock you out with the force,” you threaten, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Fine,” he replies. You nod and turn to go open the door, but what you see makes your heart drop and your blood chill.

“Tayah!” you scream, and the little girl barely has time to turn and look at you before a droid snatches her up. “Let go of her!” you yell, sprinting forward and jumping towards them. Another droid behind them shoots at you, and hits your arm that holds your lightsaber.

“Y/n!” Sans yells, bending down to check on you, but you shove him away, terror in your eyes.

“Get Tayah back!” you yell, and he straightens up to start sprinting forward, but it’s no use. The Separatist ship's door shuts, and Tayah’s screams are cut off. You attempt to get up and run, but the boarding way begins to detach.

“We need to get back to the transport,” Sans says, pulling you back. You try to fight against him, but then you start to realize you have no choice but to go back. You jump back inside and slam the door shut before running up to the cockpit.

“We have to follow them!” you yell, and Tie shakes his head.

“How’re we s’possed to know where they went?”

“I don’t know! But we need to get Tayah back!”

“I can’t track ‘em or follow ‘em without a device to help me.”

“We can’t just let Tayah die!”

“Y/n, calm down, my child-”

“No!” you yell at Codo, shoving his arm off of you. “I have already done enough to destroy that family. I will not let Tayah be lost!”

“We cannot do anything to help,” he says, and you just shake your head, tears beginning to pour down your face. “I’m sorry.”

“We can’t just give up!” you say, your voice beginning to break. “We can’t just let them take her!”

“If there was a way for us to save her, then we would try, but they jumped into hyperspace. We don’t have any way to track them. All we can do is keep a lookout in the future.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “no, there has to be something! Anything!”

“I’m sorry, mesh’la,” Sans says, resting his hand on your back. That’s when you truly break, and you push away from him to head to the back. He tries to follow but Codo stops him, shaking his head to tell him not to go. Sans watches as you close the door to the quarters, and the rest of Jawa Squad exchange glances. Sure, they weren’t particularly close to Tayah, but she’s just a child, and she’s been kidnapped under their care, seemingly without any hope for recovery. 

“Continue on our course to Dohbar,” Codo states, and Tie looks at him with a slight aghast expression before turning to Sans, who just gives him a single nod. The pilot lets out a heavy breath, and puts the coordinates back into the ship before beginning to continue their flight.

Aid excuses himself from the group and heads over to the quarters, he knocks before letting himself in, closing the door behind him. He sees you curled up on your bunk, silent tears falling onto your pillow.

“Can I take a look at your wound?” he asks, but you just shake your head. He sits on the little space next to you and rests his hand on your arm. “I…I know what it’s like. To feel like you didn’t do enough to help save someone. Someone you love. Someone who is family.” You don’t respond, but you stop sniffling enough to listen. “When Bomber died, I was supposed to be the medic to save him. I was supposed to make his injuries go from fatal to minor. And…a part of me hasn’t ever forgiven myself for not being able to do more. And I know the rest of them, especially Tie, hold it against me as well. Even if they don’t realize it. But sometimes…sometimes all we do is all we can. Sometimes…bad things happen, and no matter how hard we try, we can’t change the outcome.”

“All she wanted was to go home to her parents,” you say quietly, “she just wanted to be a princess again, to grow up and enjoy her life…”

“I know, y/n,” Aid says. “And I’m so sorry that this happened.”

“I’m sorry about Bomber,” you reply. “I miss him too. But losing him wasn’t your fault.”

“And losing Tayah wasn’t yours,” he says before reaching down and moving your face to look up at him. His smile is genuine and filled with sympathy, and it makes you want to cry more. “Let me look at your wound,” he says quietly, and you don’t fight him this time. The two of you fall into silence as he works, and you feel yourself internally struggling. The Jedi within you wants you to let go of the guilt and accept what happened, and forgive yourself. But the other part of you doesn’t want to give up, it wants to go out there and rescue her, but you can’t do it alone.

“What am I going to tell Ahni and Kwol…” you say after a while. Aid has been finished tending to your arm for some time, and has been silently sitting with you and keeping you company.

“Did they know she was coming back?”

“No,” you say, and Aid bites his lip before turning away to respond.

“Well…this isn’t exactly a…morally good choice…”

“Aid,” you say, sitting up and making him face you, “what are you suggesting?” He tries to keep his eyes from meeting yours, but it’s pointless. He meets your gaze and sighs, standing up and taking a few steps before turning back to you.

“They already didn’t get to see her as it was when she was at the Temple. Now, they won’t see her anyway, because who knows what the Separatists are going to do.”

“Aid,” you say sternly, standing up to move closer to him. “What are you suggesting?”

“Don’t tell them what happened,” he says, letting out a breath afterwards. You stare at him silently before shaking your head, scoffing as you turn away. “Y/n, it’s better than to worry them-”

“Their daughter has been kidnapped!”

“I know, just,” he says, running his hand over his hair and grabbing the end of his braid briefly before letting go and letting out a deep breath, “just think about how worried they’ll be. Think about how distraught Ahni will be. And then imagine how they’ll feel when your daughter is born.” 

You swallow hard before clenching your jaw, knowing that he has a few good points. Internally, you know it’s awful, and that you’d be a terrible person if you kept this from them. But you also knew that if you didn’t tell them, they’d be oblivious to anything bad happening to her. The most you’ll have to do is lie about her progress and her training. 

Instead of responding, you open the door and head to the cockpit. The others turn to look at you, and without meeting anyone’s gaze, you let out a sigh and tell them the plan. “No one mentions Tayah or what happened to her.” You feel the air in the room go cold, and yet no one speaks to object. “Ahni and Kwol will be distraught if we tell them. For all they know, she’s safe and back on Coruscant. And they’ll keep believing that for as long as possible. I know this is awful, and that they deserve to know the truth about their daughter, but right now, this is the best way to keep everyone calm and happy.”

“I agree with your decision, my child,” Codo says, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. This time, you don’t push him away. Instead, you turn and wrap your arms around him. He returns the hug, holding you close and comforting you. “I promise, we will do all that we can if we get the chance. For now, you need to let go.”

“Okay, Master,” you whisper, and in your mind, you go deep to find the memory of Tayah. You imagine yourself grabbing it, and taking it to the void. You imagine letting it go, and imagine it falling out of sight. You feel yourself moving past the incident, and beginning to let go. Your emotions begin to calm, and though you still feel sad and guilty, they no longer overwhelm you. When you pull away from Codo, the troopers of Jawa Squad all have sympathetic but understanding expressions.

“Thank you, all of you,” you say. “For doing all that you could, and for sticking by my side through everything. I don’t deserve to have such honorable, trustworthy, and amazing friends as you.”

“You deserve way more than that, mesh’la,” Sans says, “but we’re happy to be here, and we’ll stay for as long as you allow us.” You smile up at him and let them all engulf you in a group hug. You feel Codo spreading warmth and comfort through the force, and for the time that you’re surrounded by them, you feel as though all is well.

If you enjoyed this, comments, reblogs, and messages are greatly appreciated!

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#star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #clone wars #star wars the clone wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars fanfic #echo x reader #a returning echo #clone trooper echo #arc trooper echo #echo #the bad batch echo #jinn the storyteller🤍🤍 #pregnancy

[starberryjaems]

me : haven’t been dating or haven’t liked a person long enough to develop a crush for 3 years

: can’t write people developing feelings for each other and all the things before people date

also me : can make a 2k of word vomit fluff for an established relationship that is totally hypothetical

-

i need help and i’m so sorry for my codywan exchange giftee

#teal tings #fanfic #i have zero experience to project myself onto and this stunts me so bad #not to mention i want to write smut into my fic and i also have zero experience #this is why i like writing angst so much #star wars the clone wars #star wars the clone wars fanfic #codywan gift exchange

[mearchy]

#mine is 295 pages somewhere around 5600 fics #and i’ve had that account for six or seven years #im about to tag the hell out of this for exposure sorry #i’m trying to get the widest sample size #the old guard #star wars #doctor who #polls #ao3 #fanfic #writeblr #the clone wars #the mandalorian #our flag means death #spn #supernatural #destiel #good omens #ineffable husbands #bbc sherlock #x men #cherik #immortal husbands #kaysanova #sequel trilogy #prequel trilogy #reylo #(can’t believe i used that tag. first time) #911 fox

[clonesuperiority]

I really only wanted to show my Clone OC's Tattoos, buuut who was ever hurt by shirtless Wolffe, Rex, Cody and Jesse? 👀

I'd kind of love to draw some fanarts of canon Clones ... Which ones would you like to see?

#Commander Wolffe #Commander Cody #Captain Rex #cody #rex #Kix #wolffe #wolffe x reader #cody x reader #star wars #tbb #the bad batch #tbb season 3 #captain rex x reader #the bad batch season 3 #clone oc #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #rex x reader #echo x reader #fives x reader #star wars celebration #tcw #tbb x reader #clone wars #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfic #clone wars fic

[freesia-writes]

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars the bad batch #star wars tbb #bad batch #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #tbb tech #the bad batch tech #tech #clone force 99 #tbb fanfic #the bad batch speculation

[weyrwolfen]

Eidola: Chapter 20 - CT-22-1981 Snap

Rating: T

Characters: Gen, Clone Trooper OCs, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and other canon members of the 501st/332nd and the Bad Batch

Warnings: canon-typical violence; references to self-harm, injuries, and substance abuse; PTSD; it’s post-Order 66 and nobody is having a good time (but they’re all working on it)

Summary: The mission was never to bring down the Empire. Not really. The mission was to save every single one of their chipped brothers. But if doing do helped break the Empire’s stranglehold on the galaxy? Well, that was just a bonus.

“The kriff are those?” Snap asked without thinking. He almost flinched at his own language, half-expecting somebody to call him on the profanity. But there weren’t any kids around anymore, so he could say kriff again, all he wanted.

Osik’la consolation prize. He missed Gida and the other Lawquane kids already.

Fuse set down the odd carrier full of vials, each containing slips of some kind of plant, suspended in a hydrating nutrient gel. The leaves were dark green with rusty orange veins, but Snap didn’t recognize them. Cut had made sure they knew everything there was to know about the plants they’d been keeping on base, and whatever these ones were, they were new.

“A soporific, hopefully,” the medic said, leaning against the work bench. Snap pulled a sour expression, to which Fuse elaborated. “A sleep aid. Apparently you can dry out the leaves and make a tea with them.”

Right.

“A tea, huh?” Snap asked, not really expecting an answer. Kriffing everybody on base seemed to have sleep issues, at least some of the time. Insomnia. Nightmares. Whatever. Snap definitely had, especially at first. He’d kind of evened out over the last several months, but he still had his moments.

“It’s not as strong as the tabs, but at least it’s not habit forming,” Fuse answered anyway. “If we can get a decent crop of our own going, then we won’t have to worry about spotty supply issues either.”

Well, alright then. Half of their hydroponics units had been emptied out and the plants shipped off to Wadj, so it wasn’t like they didn’t have the room to experiment.

“What’s it’s chem-profile?” Snap nudging aside the box of scraps he’d been about to take to the reptavian colony and leaning closer to the mystery plants. He pulled one of the vials out of the carrier and gave it a closer look. At least it had been grown in something similar to the matrix their own machines used. If they’d been in actual kirffing dirt, like those pop-peas Rasp had brought back… what? Two missions ago? Kriffing nightmare, prepping those for the frames, and half of them had died anyway.

“Uh, no idea,” Fuse admitted, fishing a small datastick out of one of his belt pouches. “But they came with this?”

Snap took the stick and scowled. “Came from where?” he asked.

Fuse shrugged. “It was in the latest delivery of supplies the Mandalorians unloaded.”

That might be good news. Their grow units were Mando-design, maybe they’d luck out and whatever data was on this stick would have the correct chem codes up front and center. If not, Snap would have to figure out how to manually program one of the units again. He was pretty certain he remembered how to do that.

He was a heavy gunner, not a kriffing farmer. This hadn’t been part of his training.

But Cut and Suu had worked hard to teach Snap and his brothers before they’d shipped out, and Snap wasn’t going to let them down.

He grumbled a thanks to Fuse, who took that as his cue to beat a retreat back out of the workroom door.

There was a stack of datapads tossed on the end of the long workbench. Snap picked one up at random and plugged in the datastick. It took a second, but the file did eventually open.

Snap glanced through the text. Apparently the plant was called maara vine, chem profile 3, light level 1. Easy enough.

“Hat Trick!” Snap yelled, pretty certain that his brothers wouldn’t have worked their way so far down the halls as to be out of easy earshot.

The reptavians screeched in response from the neighboring room.

“Yeah?” Hat Trick said a few moments later, leaning over into the doorway.

“Can you handle this?” Snap asked, nodding vaguely in the direction of the crate of scraps. “The medics just dropped a project on me.”

Hat Trick grumbled something, no doubt uncomplimentary, under his breath, but he did pick up the crate and hit the door panel with his elbow. The demanding edge to the reptavians’ shrieks intensified when the door slid open.

Snap scrolled through the text, eyes catching on the pertinent sections. He traded the pad off to one hand and picked up the cradle of slips in the other. There was an isolated growing rack in the room Suu had set aside for the cadets’ science modules. It would probably be a good idea to keep these things separate from the food crops. Accidentally dosing the entire base’s meals with a sleep aid didn’t seem like a smart plan.

A group of Mandalorians had taken over the training mats in the back of the base’s gym, which was setting Snap on edge. It wasn’t like he’d been planning on sparring this shift, but he tended to get his hackles up around unfamiliar natborns.

Usually, this was a peak time for the gym facilities on base, but so many brothers had shipped out that the space felt weirdly empty, even with the addition of five Mandalorians. Not that Snap was entirely alone with them, there were a few other brothers in the room. Ajax was on one of the inclined benches, doing sit ups with a weight held against his chest. Whelk was guiding Feral through a few exercises.

Snap stacked his armor against one of the walls and took a few minutes to stretch out. Then he picked out a weight machine which would let him keep an eye on the rest of the room. The scavenged and improvised training equipment relied on actual, metal weights instead of grav-resistance generators, but Snap found he didn’t mind the clank of the objectively more primitive gear. He set the weight a notch higher than he had last time, settled into the chair, and curled his hands around the grips.

Counting reps wasn’t nearly enough to keep his mind fully occupied, but the Mandalorians were providing more than enough of a distraction. He didn’t know any of their names, but their armor was distinct enough that he was starting to recognize at least some of them on sight.

Black Cuirass with the Red Chevrons was currently kicking Orange Spaulders with the Weird Spikes around the informal ring. One of the ones he’d heard called a Nite Owl was acting as a referee or a spotter. Her armor was painted in the same colors as Kryze’s, mostly blues and grays, but it was far simpler in design. Two others, Three Shades of Green and Gold and Gray Stripes were standing off to one side, helmets angled towards one another, clearly talking about something, even if Snap was far too far away to overhear.

He couldn’t see any of their faces, but if he had to guess, Snap would have said that Orange Spaulders was younger than Black and Red, even if he was the taller and broader of the two by quite a bit. He was fast, but uncoordinated to a degree that would have gotten a sixth-year cadet sent to remedial training. Or worse. Black and Red, by comparison, moved like she knew what she was doing. The two of them were sparring with blades, and every point Not-Kryze had called so far had been in Black and Red’s favor.

The longer the fight went on, the more one-sided it became. Orange Spaulders was obviously letting his frustration get the better of him, getting more aggressive and less controlled with each successive attack. Black and Red wasn’t having any of it, dancing just outside of her opponent’s range and adding some well-placed kicks whenever he tried to charge her.

Not-Kryze called the match, right after Snap had finished adjusting his machine’s grips to their next configuration and started on his second set of reps.

Kark, that kid was skimming for trouble. He stomped out of the ring, body language all but shouting his anger and embarrassment. Snap snorted to himself, thinking of all of the karking awful osik that would have happened to him or any one of his brothers if they’d dared to act like that with one of their trainers.

And then, the puffed up di’kut turned and said something to Feral and Whelk, who were the closest two clones to the sparring ring. Whelk’s head snapped up at whatever had been said, but Feral?

Feral froze.

And then he bared his teeth in a way that couldn’t have ever been misinterpreted as a smile.

The weights slammed down with a sharp clang of abused metal when Snap released his grips mid-rep and rose.

Given his name, Snap would lay good credits on Feral always having been a little bit off, but anymore he came across as brittle, in a dangerous kind of way. He reacted oddly to things. Unpredictably. And maybe Snap had been in the 437th during the war, not the 501st, but Feral had been assigned to hydroponics, and that meant he was Snap’s responsibility.

And Snap was going to tear a strip out of that puffed up natborn, for whatever the kark he’d said to his little brother to get such a reaction.

Whelk had already moved to put himself between the Mandalorians and his brother. Snap didn’t hear what the medic was saying. Truthfully, he didn’t hear much of anything, except for a distant ringing in his ears. His vision had tunneled down dangerously as he crossed the room.

Snap was maybe six steps away from introducing himself to Orange Pauldrons, fist first, when someone intercepted him, fingers driving inward against the inside of Snap’s left bicep and down toward the bone, which sent a jolt of burning pain shooting along Snap’s nerves and made his arm involuntarily jerk back in a pained, defensive curl.

Kark, that really kriffing hurt.

Karking Corries.

Because of course it was Ajax. Of course it was. Whatever the kriff those painful ‘grab-and-squeeze’ techniques were, they weren’t part of the standard training regimen back on Kamino. And Ajax liked to feign complete ignorance whenever any of his brothers tried to ask him about them.

At least the moment Snap’s forward momentum stopped, Ajax loosened his grip enough for Snap to catch his breath. Kriffing ow.

“… Still recovering from a head injury,” Ajax was saying, when Snap got his head on straight enough to actually listen. Ajax was also giving Feral a hard side eye. “So, no. CT-37-4148 will not be cleared for sparring any time soon. However, CT-22-1981 or I would be happy to spar with any of you.”

Snap wasn’t sure if the use of their designation numbers was intentional, or if Ajax was also slipping into old habits around unfamiliar natborns.

He also didn’t exactly care all that much, just then.

Movement on the periphery of his vision drew Snap’s attention, and he tensed when he noticed Three Greens easing his hand off his holstered blaster.

Ajax’s hand went slightly tighter again, in obvious warning.

Snap didn’t relax, but he also kept his mouth shut. Kriff.

Apparently even Orange Pauldrons had realized he’d stepped in osik, if the tense, defensive set of his shoulders was any indication. He did manage to mumble a very half-hearted, awkward, “Uh, sure.” And then, when Not-Kryze shifted her stance pointedly, he amended, “I mean, I would be honored to.”

Ajax gave Whelk a very pointed look, and the 501st medic nodded minutely. Feral didn’t look very happy with being herded up off his bench and away from the situation, but he went along with it anyway. No one sane crossed a medic, and even if Feral wasn’t always on the right side of that line, even fewer of the clones on base would cross any of the Corries.

“I’ll suit up,” Snap said, eyes sliding back to Orange Pauldrons. The kriff had that overly-tall shebs said?

Ajax nodded, but he didn’t move to do the same. “You prefer blades?” he asked casually.

Too casually.

Snap refrained from snorting. So it was going to be like that?

By the time he’d strapped on his lower plate and rose to start in on his upper armor, Ajax was already in the ring, completely unarmored, holding two blunted practice knives against Orange Pauldrons’ full plate and powered down vibroblades.

Snap knew where he would place his wagers though.

“First to ten points,” Not-Kryze was saying, when Snap walked back within easy hearing distance, bucket in hand. She had her arms crossed over her cuirass, but her helmet was canted at an angle Snap would have called ‘dubious,’ or maybe even ‘concerned.’

But Ajax, unarmored and functionally unarmed as he was, just nodded and said, “Understood.”

Not-Kryze simply stepped back out of the ring, dropping her arms and making a brief gesture of invitation with one hand. Under her breath, Snap could just hear her mutter under her breath, “Your funeral.”

Ajax didn’t look terribly concerned. He simply widened his stance and raised both practice daggers in a reverse grip, dulled edges facing forward and down.

Orange Pauldrons looked conflicted. He was tense, obviously knowing he’d stuck his foot in it, but his pride was also stung. He took an uneasy stance of his own, single vibroblade leading, balled fist back and ready to punch.

Ajax just waited, expression so blank he almost looked bored.

Orange Pauldrons stepped forward, making a small feint with his blade.

Ajax stepped smoothly to the side, squaring back up with his opponent.

One more cautious jab, then another, slightly more emphatic. Then Orange Pauldrons lunged forward, fully committing to a powerful, backhanded slash with his blade.

The Corrie dropped low under the attack, left arm raised, knife angled up to catch or block any retaliatory swipe, and slammed his other fist, gripped around the hilt of his other practice blade, into the inside of Orange Pauldron’s right knee, in the gap between the man’s cuisse and greave.

The leg buckled.

Ajax rose even as his opponent staggered, catching Orange Pauldron’s arm in the hook made between the back of his blade and his left vambrace, right hand reversing, then diverting at the last second so that the side of his forearm, and not the tip of the practice knife, struck the side of the Mando’s neck, up close to the juncture where his helmet just covered his jaw line.

Orange Pauldrons dropped like a stone.

The other Mandos shifted there own stances at that, clearly adjusting their assessment of the fight unfolding in the ring between them.

Snap probably should have put his bucket on. He was having a hard time not smirking, because he clearly knew something Not-Kryze and the other Mandalorians were only starting to suspect.

Ajax was pulling his punches.

That knee-strike could have been debilitating if Ajax had wanted it to be, tearing up cartilage and tendons to the point that only bacta could have really fixed it.

Ajax wasn’t an ARC, or an RC, or any of the other named designations for special forces within the GAR. The Corries weren’t exactly sharing whatever hierarchies and training specializations the Guard had built for itself, but the three of them had been on a hand-picked team which had been sent to Mandalore and help subdue a rogue Sith. None of them were pushovers, the rare times their brothers could entice any of them into the ring, but of the three Guards, Ajax was indisputably the best.

Orange Pauldrons rolled on his side with a muted groan and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.

Not-Kryze cleared her throat, but her voice was cool and steady when she said, “One, zero.”

Orange Pauldrons took a more defensive stance and waited, right leg visibly wobbling, clearly meaning to approach the rest of this fight with a little more caution.

Ajax obliged him, leaping forward with a quick series of punches and kicks. The Mando did manage to successfully block them, but he was also back on his heels, fully on the defensive.

And that was clearly what Ajax wanted, because the second Orange Pauldrons misjudged, staggering on his injured leg, Ajax was on him, deflecting his left arm high and directing an upwardly angled punch into his unarmored armpit.

Snap, having never actually been punched in the armpit before, didn’t know what the kriff Ajax had hit with that move, but Orange Pauldrons made a noise that sounded like the worst parts of a wheeze and a squawk.

Kriffing Corries.

Snap broke down and decided to put his helmet on, because he was dying here, and he didn’t trust in his ability to keep a straight face for much longer.

Not-Kryze looked at Orange Pauldrons, who was bent double, left arm tucked against his chest, clearly trying to catch his breath. “Two, zero,” she said, and then asked, tone flat, “Zane, are you out?”

“No,” Orange Pauldrons, Zane, managed to say as he straightened into a defensive stance once more, bristling angrily.

A very small, Snap would call it mean, smile curled up one side of Ajax’s mouth.

He took a ready stance very close to Zane, almost daring the Mando to reach out and grab his unarmored opponent.

And because the only thing keeping Zane on his feet was pride, and because Ajax was intentionally stinging it, the di’kut lunged forward and tried to do just that.

Except Ajax threw one of his knives at the man’s visor and followed through with the unexpected distraction by driving his heel onto the top of Orange Pauldron’s booted foot. His synthleather, not beskar, covered foot.

Caught thoroughly off guard from yet another unexpected burst of pain and flailing to regain his compromised balance, Orange Pauldrons barely seemed to notice when Ajax dropped low to sweep his other foot out from under him.

He hit the ground hard, helmeted head clanging loudly against the floor.

Ajax, retrieved his knife and rose, dropping into a ready stance again.

Zane looked up at him briefly and then let his head drop back down on the floor again. “Yeah, no. I’m done,” he admitted, sounding hoarse through his helmet’s vocoder.

Ajax nodded and offered the Mandalorian a hand up.

Snap wasn’t particularly discrete about the fist bump he offered Ajax when the Guard walked past him, but when Ajax returned the congratulatory gesture with an otherwise blank, composed face, Snap also leaned over and whispered just loud enough for his bucket’s mic to engage, “What the kriff did he say to Feral and Whelk?”

“He asked if they had ever fought a Force user,” Ajax said quietly. “I suspect he meant Maul, but Feral and Whelk took it about like you’d expect.”

Force. They were lucky Feral hadn’t dove on the di’kut, right then and there. Everybody knew, but nobody talked about what had happened on Coruscant, when the Order had gone out. That had been true, even before the eight 501st survivors had been brought back from Hadros.

Something of Snap’s scowl must have shown through his bucket, because Ajax said, “Weaver and I will handle any explanations, but I suspect it won’t be necessary.” He glanced pointedly over his shoulder, and Snap turned to follow the pointed look. Not-Kryze and Gold and Gray were hovering over Orange Pauldrons, who had slumped back down against the wall. It looked like the two of them were giving the shiny, and with his helmet off he looked barely old enough to even be a shiny, what looked to be a very quiet, but very thorough dressing down.

Good.

They did not need a bunch of Mandos accidentally dumping salt into those particular wounds. Not if they wanted to maintain the uneasy peace on base.

Ajax gave Snap a pointed look, and then continued off in the direction of his own armor, point apparently made.

“So,” Snap drawled, catching the Mandalorians’ attention. “Any takers for another spar?”

Three Shades of Green crossed his arms across his cuirass and snorted. “Depends,” he said in a deep, oddly accented voice. “Do you fight as well as him?”

Snap grinned under his bucket, and even though he knew he wasn’t in Ajax’s league, he still answered with, “Only one way to find out.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Snap grumbled, hitting the control pad with his elbow. “Calm the kriff down.”

The reptavians, if they understood him at all, did not calm the kriff down. In fact, they only got louder. The ear-splitting screeching did settle down into slightly more tolerable hissing when he opened the cover on the food chute and poured in the day’s allotment of kitchen and gardening waste.

They were pretty little things, mean as osik and vicious, but brightly colored. Snap and his brothers collected the feathers, whenever they cleaned out the enclosure, but it was more out of force of habit than anything else. Ris wasn’t using them in lessons for the cadets anymore, and Ferin wasn’t popping in at off hours to request stuffing for the bedding and soft tubie toys Suu had asked him to make for Gida.

It felt wrong to just incinerate them though. Wasteful. Maybe they’d figure out something else to do with them.

One of the bigger females took a flying leap over her sisters and hit the grate in front of Snap’s face and clung, sharp talons catching on the heavy metal wires which twisted together to make the walls of the cage. He jerked, spilling some of the food waste on the floor for his troubles.

“Duchess, you shebs,” he said, shaking the last few scraps into the chute and then setting the empty crate aside. He bent down to pick up the scattered fruit peels and other, less identifiable bits of organic debris. When he rose and moved to drop them into the chute, the reptavian, Duchess, hissed and rattled at the walls of her cage indignantly.

Snap sighed, but shifted the pile of scraps into one hand so he could poke one of the larger pieces of peel through the study, metal grate.

The violent little ingrate snapped the orange sliver of rind and threw her head back, swallowing the food in one go.

He offered her another piece.

He really shouldn’t get attached to any of the reptavians, they were here to be food after all, but he couldn’t really help himself. Duchess was a little shabuir, but she had an unusually bright, blue-green crest of feathers down her back, and he’d named her, so that was apparently that.

Honestly, it was a safe enough choice. The brothers assigned to the kitchens had gotten into a habit of taking the males for meat, once their red-ruffed manes came in, but leaving the females behind to keep laying more eggs. It wasn’t like she was going to end up in his rations any time soon.

Not that he’d been eating the reptavian meat dishes lately anyway. But that was just because he didn’t like the flavor. Really.

Snap poked the last bit of food through the cage and then showed his hands, back and front, like a sabacc dealer. “No more,” he said, and the little osik hissed at him anyway. As if there wasn’t a giant pile of additional scraps in the bin on the floor. “You can karking well fight your sisters for the rest.”

The reptavian cocked her head to one side and gave him the most scathing glare out of her bright, red eye, before seemingly taking his words at face value, leaping down off of the wall of the cage and landing on two of her siblings, who screeched in indignation.

While the flock was thoroughly distracted, he walked around the corner of the cage and started unlatching and sliding open the nesting drawers.

Cut had walked Snap through the process of sorting eggs before he’d shipped out. The trick was, they changed colors when they were fertilized. The off-white eggs went straight into the freshly emptied crate, while the darker tan ones stayed in the drawers to hatch the next round of voracious little monsters. Any eggs with a more ambiguous color could be held up to the room’s overhead lights. The fertilized ones usually had an opaque band of shell around the middle.

There were enough unfertilized eggs this time to fill the bottom of the crate, carefully stacked three deep.

Maybe they could get the Mandos who’d signed on to take shifts in the mess to make more of that spicy egg casserole.

He’d left his helmet in the workroom while he’d dealt with the reptavians. After he punched a message into his vambrace alerting Spoons that the eggs were ready for pickup, he picked it up and noticed an alert flashing inside. Pulling it on, he found a message from Weaver waiting.

Apparently the Guard wanted to know if Snap would be interested in the additional help, which, kriff yes! Especially since they were expecting a bunch of returning Mandos as soon as the mission to Abainya was settled. Reading further, he found the catch.

The whole list of volunteers was made up of unfamiliar, Mandalorian names.

He’d have to ask if Delta, Link, and the other 501st brothers would be willing to put up with them though. That might be a hard sell. As for Snap himself, he found he didn’t mind the idea that much.

“New toy?” Snap asked, grabbing the seat next to Tenor. Somebody had shoved the exercise equipment into even closer quarters to make room for two rows of metal-composite benches scrounged up from kark even knew where. He could have stayed upstairs to eat his lunch, but why do that when he could take in a show instead?

Tenor looked up from the small knife he’d been rolling over and over in his hands. It was a simple-looking thing, barely longer than his hand, with a straight spine, a curved edge, and a handle wrapped in some kind of braided cordage. Definitely non-regulation, but the edge looked sharp enough.

“I guess so,” Tenor finally replied. He sounded weirdly conflicted. “Woves showed me how to make it.”

Snap speared one of the cubed, red chunks out of his bowl – a Difranian helituber [chem profile 2a, light level 6], unless he missed his mark – and stuck it in his mouth, chewing slowly and considering. He’d really thought he’d learned all of their newest brothers’ names at this point, but he didn’t know anybody on base named Woves.

“Who’s Woves?” he finally asked, stabbing at another tuber chunk.

Tenor eyed Snap for a second before his gaze pointedly slid across the still-empty sparring ring, to the Mandalorians clustered on their own set of benches. There was a wide gulf of empty space between them, but Tenor’s voice still dropped low when he answered, “See the pale one in the gray and green armor?”

Wait, Woves wasn’t a brother?

It didn’t take long for Snap to find his target. Tenor hadn’t been kidding about the man being pale. Pale hair, pale skin, pale shades of green and gray over a pale gray bodysuit. He was speaking to two other men whose armor Snap did not recognize. “The one who looks like he fell in a vat of bleaching agent?” he asked, also speaking in a quiet tone of voice.

“Uh huh,” Tenor said, carefully testing the edge of the blade with his thumb. “I don’t know. He says he owes Buckler for something, but Buckler shipped out, so I guess I’m the next best thing.”

Snap’s eyes widened suddenly, looking down at the odd blade in a new light. “That’s not…” he trailed off.

“Beskar?” Tenor asked with a snort. “No. Just some spare alloy the recycler kicked out.”

Oh. That was a little disappointing. But still… “Think he’ll teach you how to make armor too?”

Tenor’s expression twisted weirdly again. “Maybe?”

That had a lot of potential. It wasn’t exactly a secret that while plastoid was cheap and easy to work with, it wasn’t the strongest material out there. Snap wore his armor like a second skin and poured his soul into maintaining his paint, but at the end of the day, his plate was mass-produced gear for a mass-produced army. “Let me know when you start taking orders for durasteel,” he said, only half joking. He was sure the Reaper and Raider teams would get first dibs, but just because he wasn’t on the front lines anymore didn’t mean he’d turn down a sizable upgrade in his equipment.

“Who’s taking durasteel orders?” Ding asked, sitting down on the bench behind Snap and Tenor. Some of the remaining brothers from engineering and the deck crew were filing in after him.

“Nobody,” Tenor grumbled.

“Tenor,” Snap said, at the exact same time.

Ding looked back and forth between the two of them, one eyebrow inching upwards.

Tenor just heaved a very put-upon sigh and said, “One of the Mandos taught me how to make this.” He held up the cord-wrapped blade. “And Snap’s reading way too far into it.”

“Let me see,” Ding said, sticking out a hand, palm up, for the knife.

Tenor handed it over, and Ding eyed it appreciatively.

Snap didn’t comment, even if he was sorely tempted to. He didn’t actually think he was reading too far into anything. Mandalorians took their weapons and armor very seriously, and they had this whole cultural thing about making them. Instead, he just speared a spike shoot [chem profile 2, light level 2], popped it in his mouth, and chewed on it.

“They’re certainly trying awfully hard to win us over,” Ding said, flipping the knife around and handing it back to Tenor hilt first.

Snap pointed his empty fork at Ding. “Right?” he said, thinking of the first batch of maara vine leaves he’d passed along to the medics.

Tenor just glowered.

Snap didn’t know what the kriff his problem was.

“But we’re still under orders to conceal the location of our other bases,” Tenor finally said.

Arches leaned around Ding, joining the conversation with, “You think they’ve told us about all of theirs?”

“No,” Tenor replied, sharp and obviously annoyed. “But I also think Lady Kryze hand-picked people who were the most likely to keep the peace.”

“And then threatened them if they didn’t,” Arches agreed.

This was all starting to sound an awful lot like politics, which was firmly Corrie business and not Snap’s.

But at the same time, he wasn’t sure he agreed with the political conclusions his brothers had reached, so he asked Tenor, “Think she asked Woves to teach you how to make knives?”

Tenor didn’t have a quick answer for that, cynical or otherwise.

Neither did any of the others.

“So, speaking of Corrie business,” Ding finally said, clearly dropping the subject. “Ajax is fighting…” he scanned the board some enterprising brother had hung up on the wall. “Ergan Vayn. Who the kriff is Ergan Vayn?”

“Red helmet,” Cutter volunteered, from his seat a few spots down from Ding. “And the cuirass painted to look like a ribcage.”

Right. Snap actually did recognize him.

And after that would be Zipps, who’d joined a few other brothers in erasing his number from the bracket and replaced it with his actual name, and Black and Red, whose name Snap had finally learned was Lytra Krest.

She’d knocked Snap out of the competition yesterday, and while his back still smarted from the bout, he couldn’t exactly argue with the way it had ended. Krest was kriffing quick and fierce. Zipps was going to have a time with her.

“The Abainya mission went well, so Captain Rex should be getting back soon,” Snap said, leaning back to grin at Cutter. “Rumor is, he’s going to fight whoever wins this bracket.”

That got some very interested looks.

“And does the Captain know about that?” Ocher asked dryly.

Snap grinned.

“Weaver’s supposed to tell him.”

The mess was packed, with third shift cycling off for their late meal and sleep cycle, first shift grabbing caff before rotating on duty, and several newly arrived Mandalorians, fresh from Abainya. Half of them were missing pieces of armor, exposing bacta bandages and a variety of medical braces underneath. The smell of burn cream filled the room, even over the sharp scent of heavily spiced food.

Snap tried to make his way through the room without bumping into anybody, assuming for every injury he could see, there were probably three more hidden under body suits and armor plates.

He found Ocher and Nails already at the caff station. Ocher was adding sweetener to his caff, but Nails was filling his own mug out of a smaller carafe containing hot water. Snap wouldn’t have pegged Nails for a tea-drinker, but whatever.

Except the little fabric pouch he dropped in the cup had a medical tag hanging off of it, and Snap’s sleep-fuzzy brain finally made the connection.

“How’s that working?” he asked Nails, nodding at the mug in his brother’s hands.

Nails looked up sharply, as if expecting some kind of a trap, but after only a moment’s pause, he just shrugged. “Well enough,” he admitted, but then he grimaced a little. “It’s bitter as all kriff.”

“Ask Fuse if you can add some sweetener or something,” Snap suggested, reaching for a cup of his own. “Gotta be something that can mask the flavor without mucking with the effects.”

Nails scrunched up his nose, but he didn’t outright reject the suggestion.

The caff sloshed into Snap’s mug, near to overflowing. He bent awkwardly to sip some of the excess off, so he wouldn’t spill more.

“Let me know when you’re headed out to-,” Snap paused, eyes landing on the closest Mandalorians, and rapidly adjusted what he’d been about to say. “Your old corps, and I’ll pack up a couple of the plants for you.”

He probably should have run that past Fuse or one of the other medics first, but whatever. If the tea was working, it was working, and Snap knew perfectly kriffing well that their brothers on Wadj were having at least as many sleep issues as the ones stationed on the Draboon VIII base.

If anything, Nails’ expression got even more sour. “I’ll probably kill it.”

And now it was Snap’s turn to shrug. “So give it to somebody with a clue,” he said, picking up his cup and stepping a little to the side, so he wasn’t blocking access to the caff anymore. “I’ll send instructions. They’re kriffing hard to kill.”

Truthfully, the vines were growing like weeds. Snap was going to have to start cutting them back one way or the other, and he knew perfectly kriffing well how many grow racks they’d packed up to send with the Lawquanes.

Nails nodded, coming to some conclusion that made him square his shoulders a little. “I’m on the next ship out,” he said.

“Good,” Snap replied, because it was good news, even if it didn’t leave him much time to prep the plants for transport. “I’ll get some cuttings ready to go.”

The Captain turned to eye Weaver flatly. “This is the ‘diplomatic effort’ you needed my assistance to pull off?” he asked, tone very dry.

A wave of badly suppressed snickers rippled through the crowd, clone and Mandalorian alike. The gym was packed, standing room only, even with extra chairs dragged in from all over base. Snap had given his entire team the shift off to attend, and he was pretty certain the other teams on base had done the same. No kriffing way was he going to miss this, but hopefully somebody was off minding the comms and life support systems.

Weaver, to his credit, didn’t quail under the Captain’s thinly veiled accusation. “It has been remarkably good for morale and inter-faction cooperation in your absence, Sir,” he said mildly.

Captain Rex sighed like his soul was leaving his body, and he eyed Ajax critically.

Ajax, who was already in the ring with his bucket tucked under one arm, just smiled placidly.

Kriff.

Never let it be said that the Corries lacked stones.

“I’m guessing Commander Fox gave you some pointers?” the Captain asked, sounding more than a little resigned.

Ajax’s smile got just a little sharper. “No more than Commander Cody gave you, Sir.”

The Captain pulled on his bucket and asked, “Rules of engagement?”

“First to ten points,” Panz said. And wasn’t that saying something, that they’d tagged a medic to referee this fight?

“First to submission,” Ajax countered blandly, tugging on his own helmet.

The Captain tipped his head to one side, then the other, obviously making a show of stretching out the muscles along his shoulders. “First to submission,” he agreed.

Panz looked like he wanted to murder both of them.

Weaver held out a hand expectantly, and Captain Rex’s shoulders moved like he’d just huffed a laugh which was too quiet to be picked up by his helmet’s internal mic system. He drew both of his blasters and handed them off, but he didn’t stop there. His charge packs followed, then a pair of thermal detonators, and then he unsnapped his pauldron and draped it over Weaver’s arm before loosening his utility belt to access the fasteners for his kamas.

Ajax’s smile widened into a grin that showed off most of his teeth.

Snap figured he knew where the Captain was coming from. He wouldn’t want to offer up the Corrie any free hand holds either.

Manx elbowed Snap in the ribs and tipped a bowl of fried, spiced legumes [chem profile 7, light level 3] in offering.

Kriff, yeah. Snap took a handful and popped one in his mouth.

“You got any bets riding on this?” Manx asked.

Di’kutla question. Everybody had bets riding on this fight. Maybe not in credits, but in favors and intel, shift assignments and bragging rights. Snap had overheard three Mandalorians joking about proposing marriage to the winner. At least, he thought they’d been joking.

“Captain Rex, of course,” Snap said, with only the smallest flicker of doubt. Betting against the Captain was generally a losing proposition, but Ajax was really kriffing good. One way or the other, it was going to be one haran of a show.

By the time Captain Rex stepped into the ring, he’d pretty well stripped down to his bare plate, with only a single vibroblade hanging off of his belt, which seemed only fair, because Ajax had also kept his two knives in the custom sheath he kept in the small of his back. Neither one of them drew their weapons though, they just fell in on either side of the wide ring, watching one another.

“I will call the match, if I think it’s medically necessary to do so,” Panz said darkly and then stepped back, out of the ring.

How the kriff the medic managed to make being a total wet blanket so threatening was a complete mystery to Snap.

But apparently that was all the signal either man needed, because both of them were moving, Ajax in a wide circle and Captain Rex in a smaller pivot, tracking his opponent without giving ground, letting the Guard close distance, if that was what he really wanted.

Apparently Ajax did want that exact thing, because he was abruptly spinning, directing a kick towards the outside of Captain Rex’s leading knee.

Kriff, he was fast, but Captain Rex was a gen one, amongst the oldest CTs in the GAR, and that experience showed. He drew back, just enough to shift out of immediate range.

If Snap had been in the ring, he’d have surged forward, trying to take advantage of Ajax’s exposed back when the initial kick missed, except the Guard wasn’t stopping, continuing his rotation even as he dropped lower, pivoting to the opposite foot and then following through with sweeping reverse kick at the Captain’s ankle.

But it looked like the Captain had anticipated that move as well, because he shifted his stance one more time, lifting his foot just high enough to pass over Ajax’s lightning-quick kick. Then he planted his foot and followed through with a kick of his own, with the full weight of his body twisting to add force to the blow.

Ajax managed to roll away, tumbling with the force of the kick and darting back up to his feet, seemingly unscathed, with an unnecessary, almost playful bounce in his stance.

One of the Mandos whooped, breaking the breathless silence of the crowd.

“Get him!” one of Snap’s brothers, probably Boar, shouted.

Snap had no idea which ‘him’ that was directed at, but it probably didn’t matter.

He kind of felt like he should have been taking notes: Ajax’s speed and precision against Captain Rex’s economy of movement and punishingly powerful blows.

When Snap would have tried for a block or a dodge, the Captain accepted the hit, shifting just enough that Ajax’s strike glanced off of his armor instead of the more vulnerable spots exposed between the plates. That gave him a fraction of a second more time to close distance with the Guard and slam a knee into Ajax’s side with enough force to make the plastoid creak in protest.

Instead of retreating out of the range of one of Captain Rex’s incoming punches, which was definitely what Snap would have tried, Ajax actually twisted to the side, reaching up and grabbing the outside of the Captain’s wrist with his right hand and then snapping an open palm against the back of Rex’s elbow. And maybe the hit didn’t land exactly dead on, because the Captain was already shifting his trajectory to minimize the damage, but it certainly got his entire attention.

Snap normally would have been yelling out suggestions and making additional side bets, but he found himself utterly riveted. Sure he barked out a laugh or cheered when one of them managed to pull off some ridiculous move, but he didn’t exactly have the words. This was ARC osik, or whatever version of that training the Guard had put together for itself. The kind of half-mad druk that would have had them digging latrines for the duration of the war if their commanding officers had ever caught them pulling such dini’la stunts mid-battle.

Except this wasn’t a battle, which was kind of the whole point. It was fun.

Ajax had somehow managed to rip off the Captain’s belt, for some karking reason. It had ended up tossed into the crowd and picked up by Weaver for safe keeping.

Snap wasn’t sure what the kriff Ajax’s plan had been, because that stunt had been both intentional and the source of his current limp. Seemed pretty stupid, just highly, uncharacteristically di’kutla to Snap, but whatever. All it had managed to do was made the Captain’s plackart hang a little awkwardly low. It wasn’t even affecting his movement noticeably.

Of course, the Captain had picked up a slight limp of his own from one of Ajax’s sharp punches which had actually managed to land more or less on target, and that was affecting his mobility at least a little.

Which was a kriff-ton more than Snap probably could have managed against either of them, so maybe he should withhold judgment.

Except then Ajax tried to tackle Captain Rex head on, which ended up earning him one haran of a slam to the mat, followed by a swift kick across the bucket, hard enough to break its magnetic seal and spinning it dangerously to the side, no doubt utterly karking his vision. So maybe Snap had seriously overestimated Ajax’s previous displays of intelligence and strategy.

But then Manx sucked in a sharp breath, drawing Snap’s attention back to the Captain, and holy kriffing kark! Was that a vibroblade hilt sticking out of the Captain’s ribs?

Kark. It was!

Granted, it wasn’t in all that deep, just kind of jammed in between the Captain’s hanging plackart and his cuirass. For just a moment, Captain Rex stood perfectly still, his arms frozen at his side like a statue. Then, one hand inched upward and grabbed the hilt, easing the powered down blade out from his side. The Captain gave the blade a brief inspection before dropping it on the floor. A thin trail of red ran down the Captain’s plackart, enough to make Snap wince, but the Captain’s visor remained unreadable. That is, until it snapped up towards Ajax, who had managed to roll further away and get up on one knee, but was still scrambling to either straighten up his helmet or tear it off.

Captain Rex took one step towards Ajax, but Panz stepped in front of him and stopped him with a hand in the middle of his cuirass, scowling fit to strip armor paint. “Armor off, you’re both done.”

Snap booed.

He wasn’t the only one.

Except then one of the Mandalorians, a tall one in orange and midnight blue armor, took it one step further and walked into the ring, complaining loudly. The second, the absolute moment his hand touched Panz’s shoulder, the medic whipped around and drove a fist into the man’s throat, sending him staggering backwards with a rasping gasp.

“You’re done too,” Panz said, pointing a finger at the wheezing Mandalorian.

Captain Rex collared Cutter, who was in the process of taking violent offense with anyone laying a hand on a brother medic.

Not-Kryze and Krest ended up stopping a few of their people from doing something equally incendiary. Between the three of them, and Weaver, who’d helped a clearly concussed Ajax to his feet before laying into the closest troopers, they eventually got most everybody calmed down and chased out of the gym.

Maybe it was the promise that once the gym was fit for use again, they’d start a new bracket. And whoever won that could have another go at the Captain, assuming he wasn’t deployed somewhere off-base by then. And if he was, then Ajax would be around to do the honors instead.

Assuming the medics signed off on whatever additional injuries the two of them were clearly hiding under their armor.

Snap wasn’t too worried, there hadn’t been that much blood to mop up. And he would know, he’d ended up sticking around with Cutter, Boar, and two of the Mandalorians to put the room back into something resembling order. They’d all five been there to see when Ajax and Captain Rex finally had been escorted off to the infirmary by Panz and Fuse. They’d both been smiling.

Snap knew perfectly karking well that he didn’t stand a chance of making it to the finals, but after he erased the names from the board and redrew a blank bracket, he went ahead and added his name, not his number, to one of the empty slots.

AN: Previous chapters are available here.

Dividers by @freesia-writes using helmets by @lornaka. More designs available here.

I've been mentally restructuring a few things about this fic, so I have a question for you all if you're game. Do you prefer one long fic with distinct parts within it or multiple separate fics linked together as a series? I'm leaning towards option 2, but I thought I'd poll the audience. Thanks in advance.

#eidola tcw fanfic #star wars #tcw #clone wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfic #tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars fanfic #original clone trooper #clone trooper oc #oc clone trooper #clone troopers

[cc3542taki]

Fanart for The Legend Of Liob written by @killbothtwins

"She had gotten a picture of Cody vaulting over the kriffing rock. The sun was behind him, explosions and blaster bolts dotting the background. His face was set in determination and apparently heroic fire, although Cody thought he really just looked annoyed about the stray lightsaber. 

Paintbrush made it into a poster, styled as a stained glass window, and put it up in the bunk room on the Negotiator. "

I just couldn´t resist drawing the picture that was forming in my minds eye while reading this passage.

This fanfic is a favourite of mine that i suggest you go read if you love yourself a little humor in a very well written galaxy far far away.

#star wars fanart #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #fanart for fanfic #The Legend Of Liob #me shamelessly promoting one of my favourite fanfics #clone wars #digital art #stained glass style

[annwayne]

Delayed Fate - A Story from The Red Logs

Chapter 3/3

Last Chapter <-

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 4056

Fic Summary:

Written for the Love & Lust Flash Fic Contest in The Erotica Abyss (chapter 2)

After splitting up a fight between two clones in her bar, Anya finds herself in the company of the most interesting clone she's ever come across-and she's known a *lot* of clones. (And if you squint-plot)

Or

How Anya and Crosshair's fates first intertwined.

AO3 Link

Warnings for whole fic:

Violence, Injury, Blood, At Home Medical Treatment, Biting, Praise, Gloves, Dom/Sub undertones, PinV sex, Oral Sex (F & M Receiving), Fingering

Authors Note:

Well. This took longer than I meant it too lol. But boy is it worth it.

Bitter bacta numbed my lips as I pushed my tongue past Crosshair’s welcoming grin. He pulled me in, meeting me with his own hungry lapping. Our tongues danced while moans leaked out of me. Crosshair’s hands were quick to find my hips and faster to pull me onto his lap properly. My knees pushed into couch cushions as I sat on his plastoid clad thighs. Want pulsed from between my legs, but my thighs were spread too wide for me to find any relief from wiggling. 

Though, that didn’t stop me. 

Instinct drove my hips back and forth against the phantom of friction. Then a knee pushed up between my legs, giving me a thigh to grind on. A gasp left me at the sudden contact. I pulled back from Crosshair’s lips to see the self-satisfied grin he gave me. 

I retaliated by grabbing a handful of silver hair and pulling Crosshair’s head back, gaining access to his neck. A dark chuckle vibrated from his throat as I planted sloppy kisses along the length–from his clavicle up to his ear lobe. While my hips moved with their own mind against the hard armor that covered Crosshair’s thigh, I caught his ear between my teeth. That earned me a growl mixed with pain and arousal from the clone. 

Meanwhile, Crosshair bided his time beneath me. His gloved hands traversed my body. He started at my bare waist, slid down to my clothed hips where he released the clasps of my slacks, and ended at my thighs. He squeezed the flesh like it was a prize. Then he’d had enough.

Before I went for another bite, he caught my braid and pulled my head back. “Enough of that.” His voice rumbled against my jaw and sent shivers straight to my clit. 

“Is that a complaint?” He pulled harder in response. I grunted.

He held me in place like that as his tongue dragged up the side of my neck. “No complaint.” Gravel kissed my ear. “But I have…a hunch.” Crosshair let his lips brush my neck as he talked. “There might be something else that we’ll both enjoy more.” 

“Oh really? What’s th-” I gasped–and then moaned as Crosshair bit down on my neck, hard. 

When he finally let go he lapped at the divots his teeth made in my skin, sending more shivers to my clit. By now I was panting and couldn’t stop squirming against his thigh. “Very good.” He released me with the praise. 

Blush had already painted my face, but a new wave washed up my ears. “What are you talking about?” I asked before finding his gaze. Two parts of my brain were at war. Logic said I’d done nothing–what was the point of his praise? But a less intellectually driven part of my mind only focused on the pleasure that came from the words. 

Crosshair’s eyes narrowed as a huff of a laugh left his lips. “I’m talking about how we’re going to fuck, Anya.” 

My eyes blew wide at the sound of my name on his tongue.

He continued. “You put on a good act.” His nose rubbed against my ear. Crosshair must’ve caught on to the effect his voice had on me. “I’m sure most of the clones you bring up here expect you to take the lead, based on how you act in the bar.” His dark gaze drank me in, my flushed face, heavy lidded eyes and slightly part lips. “Except, that’s just an act, isn’t it?” 

Sex was sex. Sure, I was used to leading most of the clones I slept with. Kamino didn’t exactly have any sex education–and neither did I. What did it matter who led and who followed? At least, that’s what I thought I’d say. Instead I found a twist in my gut at his question–like it was an accusation I’d tried to hide my guilt from. My jaw clenched as I sat with his words. I was more exposed than I should’ve felt, given how much clothing I still had on. When he didn’t take my silence as an answer–or didn’t accept it–I gave in. “What gives you that idea?” 

Crosshair ran his hands up my sides, pulling me flush against his breast-plate. “You follow too easily.” Then, he grabbed my jaw and guided my mouth to meet his. Our lips crashed together. This time his tongue easily spread my mouth open to accept his exploration. “You’ve got a bed?” He asked, pulling back just so his lips were out of reach when I tried to meet them again. 

“Sly.” His breath tickled my lips as I talked. “Follow me.” I stood up and remembered he’d messed with my slacks too late. The fabric slid down till it caught on my hips. Crosshair smirked at his handiwork. I smiled back, turning the situation into a little show I hoped he’d use for later stress relief. He watched as I teased the slacks down and up again, revealing just a little more of my skin and panties each time. His gaze locked onto my moving hips, following side to side in trance, till finally, I let the garment pool around my ankles. I stepped out of the fabric and turned around without a word.

A few steps later, Crosshair caught on and rejoined me. He followed closely as I guided us past the kitchen and into the short hall that led to my bedroom. Once inside, I closed the door behind us. Immediately, Crosshair pinned me against the steel. 

Plastoid pressed hard against my cunt thanks to the thigh Crosshair pushed between my legs. He nestled his nose in the crook of my neck as his tongue and teeth teased my shoulder. Gloved hands explored newly exposed skin. They lingered the most at my hips and regularly pulled me back against him when I’d slip too far. 

“How do you feel about oral?” He asked in a gruff voice between littering my neck with love bites.

“It’s alright.”

“That,” Crosshair pulled back, leaving me yearning and questioning the distance between us. Dim blue washed over him as he stepped into range of the light that spilled through translucent window curtains. “Is changing tonight.” Answers came with the drop of his first gauntlet. One piece at a time, Crosshair peeled out of his plastoid armor. Vambraces and pauldrons caught the light as they joined his gloves on the floor, followed shortly after by his chest plate and cuisses. Finally, he removed his boots, leaving him only in his tight blacks. The backlight outlined his slim figure but obscured further detail from view. I watched intently as he returned to me. Then, Crosshair kneeled. 

Light kisses feathered up my ankles. Crosshair was slow in his worship. He let every brush of his lips linger before moving forward, closer to his goal. By the time he reached my thighs I was shivering in anticipation despite my initial indifference to oral. No one had shown such dutiful dedication with me before, and the effect was clear. Excitement had left a damp stain on the cotton between my legs, and it was only growing. 

At last, his lips met mine below. He lapped up the damp fabric, denying me true pleasure in favor of further teasing that had my hands tugging at his silver locks. Frustrated moans slipped out as he continued kissing and licking the barrier that kept his tongue from my skin.

“Crosshair!” I whined out his name, earning a reprieve from his teasing so he could look me in the eye. 

“Yes?” 

My jaw clenched and unclenched as I struggled to find words. “Don’t act cheeky.” Then I added, “You know.” 

I watched as information processed behind Crosshair’s dark eyes while he kneeled between my legs, looking up at me with an expression I could only describe as conniving. His smirk turned audible when he asked me, “What do you want, doll?”

Damn this clone and damn his mind-melting voice! I hissed in a breath to avoid shaking at the nickname. Doll, doll, doll—the pet name repeated over and over in my head till it was all I heard. Maybe he was aware of what that did to me, beyond just the hitch in my breath. He had to know my walls were cracking by his hand (or rather words) and this was just another sledgehammer added to the mix. The integrity of my controlled persona was at risk, and I didn’t give a damn. 

“Please, taste me,” My heart pounded as I answered his question–admitted to the want. “Directly.” 

Suddenly I was pulled from the door and tossed by the wrist onto my bed. Before I had time to settle, Crosshair grabbed my legs and pulled me down so my hips were at the edge of the mattress. “Since you asked so nicely.” His breath tickled my thighs as he littered more kisses along the soft skin. Then he slid his fingers underneath the elastic of my waistband and pulled down. At the same time, I lifted my hips. 

Crosshair’s tongue moved slow and languid. He took his time dragging the flat of his tongue along my pussy, leaving me restless for more friction. Moans dribbled out of me like the slick from my cunt. Soon my legs wrapped around his shoulders, forcing as much contact between his mouth and my pussy as possible. Crosshair wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked. His reward came via a long moan I tried to muffle with the back of my hand. He went back to lapping up my juices, hitting my clit again and again, faster and faster, till my legs locked him in place and I gasped out more semi-muffled moans. 

I was melting in his hands and I loved it.

But he wasn’t done with me yet. Even as the high of my first climax leveled off he held my thighs in place, lapping away with fervor only found in the devout. Once he was sure I wouldn’t try to move away, he brought one hand up to my folds and slipped a digit into me. Then another, added easily thanks to how wet his devotion had made me. Crosshair dragged his tongue up and down, over and over, stimulating my clit with each pass– all while curling his long fingers inside me. 

My second orgasm came quickly. Moans turned into silent cries of pleasure as only air could escape my sky turned lips. At some point my hand dropped, leaving the few sounds of pleasure that slipped from me crisp and clear. 

 He did not stop. 

My hips bounced with a mind of their own against the affections of his tongue. Stars blew out of my vision as a wave of pleasure turned into an unending surf, racking my body with uncontrollable twitches. “Pl-se” I gasped out the word. Overstimulation clouded my brain and locked my body away from me. All I could do was focus on the pleasure and experience the longest climax of my life, till finally, Crosshair pulled away.

Without his lips to warm me, a rush of air chilled my wetness. My limbs were weak but the urge to find comfort pushed me up the bed to my pillow. Yellow poured into the room as a speeder flew by. I burrowed my head into the pillow, hiding from the light and my own exhaustion. Beside me, the mattress dipped as Crosshair joined me. 

“So,” He let the word hang as he settled into position. Our limbs touched and his breath tickled my right ear. “How do you feel about oral now?” 

“Mmhd.” 

“Didn’t catch that.”

I lifted my head from my pillow. “Fuck.” Crosshair laughed at my answer, which prompted me to turn over and face him fully. “Hey!” There was as much offense in my voice as there was play. “You’ve left me with a terrible situation, you know!” 

“Oh?” He tilted his head at me. Blue light reflected on the missed slick coating his jaw. The sight rekindled the fire in my core.

My resolve to tease him wavered as I met his eyes. As much as I wanted to be snarky, more of me wanted to see how he’d react to an honest explanation. I took in a breath, and answered. “Nothing will ever feel as good as that did.” 

Immediately, I regretted my unabashed honesty. Crosshair’s lips spread into a proud grin that would’ve annoyed me if it wasn’t so damn well earned. He leaned into me, so our foreheads touched and our bodies pressed against each other, and gave me a look that sat all too smugly on his face.

Before he could speak, I warned him. “I can still kick you out, you know.” 

Crosshair closed the distance between our lips. My body melted against the affection. Our limbs tangled together as my hands searched for the seam that separated his blacks in two–that fire growing wild with need. By the time I realized he’d pushed me on my back, his hands were at either side of my head pinning me against the mattress. “I’d bet credits I can prove you wrong.” He purred against my ear.

“About kicking you out?” I smirked back up at him.

My punishment came via three fingers invading my mouth while the other two took hold of my chin. Instinct took over as I lapped at his fingers, sucking on them like I wished they were something else–something currently prodding my inner thighs through blacks. Drops of drool rolled down my jaw as Crosshair pushed his hand in and out of mouth as he pleased. 

“Still trying to be in control?” Crosshair asked with a heavy gaze as my tongue wet his digits. “We both know that you aren’t.” An undercurrent of lust made his words breathy and his eyes grew hungry. Maybe he also wished my lips were wrapped around something else. “Let it go, Anya, and I'll take care of you.”

A partially muffled moan escaped between his fingers at the promise. Was it a promise? Pleasure fogged any answer as I fell further into lust. Sex was never this. Passion and intimacy were reserved for lovers. Yet, tonight Crosshair touched me like he knew my body, whispered honey in my ear like it was second nature, and treated me with care I’d forgotten existed. 

Crosshair removed his fingers from my mouth, but kept hold of my chin. His gaze bore into mine as he asked, “Will you let me take care of you, Anya?” 

Blush flooded my cheeks as the fire within me turned into an inferno. “Yes.” I answered.

“Good girl.” He released my chin and our lips crashed together again briefly before he pulled away from me. “Tell me what you want.”

Hesitation hitched my breath. But I found reassurance in Crosshair’s eyes, in that reticle tattoo I’d so easily overlooked. “I want to see you naked.”

Crosshair smiled. “Of course.” 

I watched as Crosshair’s dimly lit figure stripped off his blacks; first the top half, then, with more ease than I expected, the bottom. Even in the poor light, I could make out several scars littering his body. Some small and evident of bacta applied soon after injury. But others were deep, jagged, and told stories of the war that felt so far away. As my gaze fell, so did my lips. Washed in blue darkness, the evidence of Crosshair’s arousal invited my exploration. 

“Come here, doll.” Crosshair helped me up, then pulled me towards the edge of the bed where he stood up. Before I could ask his plan, he gestured to my chest. “Your turn.” I had forgotten about my bandeau. Deft fingers pulled apart the latches holding the garment in place, allowing it to fall freely to the floor. 

Now it was his turn to take all of me in. Despite being nearly nude the majority of our time in my bedroom, Crosshair made sure to be slow in his study of my body. 

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen a woman naked before.” I teased, but a single glance from Crosshair told me he saw through my words. 

“I’ve never seen you naked before.” He pulled me up and then took my place. “But if you’re so eager for something to do, I’ll give you something to do.” Then, he opened his legs. “Kneel.” 

On his tongue the word sounded devilish–perhaps that’s why I felt so compelled to obey. In seconds I was between Crosshair’s legs and on my knees, holding his shins to support myself, my face a mere breath away from his cock. I swallowed, only to find the saliva would not stop coming. He rested a hand at the base of my head and grinned when I glanced up at him.

“Go ahead.” Crosshair nudged me. “There’s no need to act shy after you sucked my fingers so hungrily. I’ve already seen what that tongue can do.” Then, with his free hand, he grabbed the base of his dick. Hot velvety skin brushed against my face as he dragged his cock against my cheek. Arousal burned through me as the soft head of his cock prodded at my lips. With one last glance up, he pulled my head in and I opened my mouth. 

Spit coated his cock quickly, allowing me to bob my head up and down his length with ease. Even still, I kept my pace slow thanks to his length. Just looking at him, I didn’t notice how much bigger he was compared to the other clones I’d slept with. But now that he was in my mouth, I found myself struggling to take all of him. My focus went from swallowing as much of him as I could to keeping a steady rhythm while using my tongue as I moved up and down his dick. Crosshair rewarded my efforts with a moan. I pulled off him just long enough to spit into my left hand. Then he was back between my lips with my hand pumping what I couldn’t swallow. As my pace increased more moans trickled out of Crosshair, urging me to work harder for the sweet sounds. 

Suddenly my head snapped back and Crosshair slid out of my mouth. He twisted my braid around his fist tightly and kept me in place. Quick breaths made his chest rise and fall rapidly. 

“Careful.” He hissed once his breathing calmed. “There’s no need to rush, doll.” 

A devious smile painted my words. “Struggling to keep your cool?” 

Crosshair pulled my hair tighter. “I think it’s time I show you what’ll feel better than my lips on your cunt.” He practically growled the threat–though it wasn’t meant to frighten me. 

Instead a shiver of excitement ran down my spine directly to my cunt. “I like that idea.”

“Good.” In a whirlwind of motion I was back on the bed with Crosshair hovering over me, legs pushing mine open to make room for him. He kneeled over me like an altar, leaving behind hickeys and bite marks as prayers while his hands worshiped my breasts. Dutiful fingers teased my nipples till I was writhing in desperation. Need burned hotter than the three suns of Tantooine in my cunt. Attempts to find relief only met air, as Crosshair kept his cock tantalizingly out of reach. Whimpers spilled out of me at his denial. “Tell me what you want, Anya.” Then, he closed his lips around one of my nipples. 

Moans filled the room as I struggled to think. Struggled to accept. Crosshair’s tongue swirled around my bud. My whole body writhed in want. Pleasure overwhelmed me–but it wasn’t enough. I needed more, no, I wanted more. “Crosshair!” I whined between pants. “Fuck me, please!”

A gasp ripped through me as Crosshair thrust his cock hilt deep into me in one movement. “You’re so wet.” He grunted as he started pumping into me at a quick pace. My hips matched his pace. I squeezed down involuntarily, in bliss at the feeling of being full with a hot cock. Crosshair bent over me, moans spilling from his lips and tickling my ear. 

“Please.” I begged. “Harder, please.” 

“So needy,” He teased. “Already asking me to fuck you senseless?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” I panted.

Crosshair chuckled. “You’ll have to wait, doll.” 

“No, please, I don’t-”

Crosshair cut me off with his tongue. Our kisses matched our fucking–messy and desperate. Or maybe that was just me.

A spike of pleasure came from Crosshair playing with my tits again, squeezing and rolling his thumb over my over-sensitive bud. Despite the tongue invading my mouth, I tried again to beg for more. The words came out muffled noises. Those noises turned into rolling moans, growing with the cusp of a climax on the horizon. Crosshair took note, pulling back enough to catch my breast in his mouth. His eyes found mine, burning and heavy, as he lapped at my nipple. That was the trigger.

I wrapped my legs around Crosshair’s waist, effectively pinning him in place, and pushed his head down onto my chest. His lapping turned into sucking that had me crying out in pleasure. Wave after wave crashed till finally, I could stand no more. With my hand tangled in his silver hair, I dragged Crosshair from my breast. He came with a wet pop, leaving behind phantoms of touch and a cold, hard, bud. 

“Fuck.” I growled as my limbs fell to my side. 

“Now I’ll fuck you senseless, doll.” Crosshair sat back on his knees and lifted my legs up. Then, he started thrusting. 

The angle left me a moaning mess. Deep pleasure came with every thrust as his cock hit spots I’d never felt before. Crosshair was unyielding, unforgiving, pounding into my body so hard the impact rang through the room. Feeling so full, feeling him hit so hard and so deep, along with his moans mixing with mine pulled another climax near. 

“Fuck, fuck,” I sputtered, coherent sentences too complex to spit out. All I could do was hope Crosshair could hear my mounting pleasure, feel the way my muscles clenched down. 

“You like that?” He growled, pounding away as I could only moan in response. “Such a good girl, taking me so well.” He kept talking. “Cum with me, doll. Cum on my cock.” Then, he folded me in half. 

Pleasure blinded me as I writhed under Crosshair’s weight. With every thrust came another climax–or maybe it was just prolonging one. His cock hit deep and hard exactly like I wanted. There was little I could do under him other than accept all of his lust. His moans turned into grunts, fast and breathy in my ear. Rapid thrusts turned into long draws as he pumped his cum into me. With every hot rope of climax I shuddered, clenching down and milking him further. 

Eventually, Crosshair stopped moving. He released my legs, pulling a grunt from me in the process. Crosshair supported himself by his forearms to keep his weight off me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down. We kissed. Exhaustion and satisfaction rolled over me like a slow fog. When our lips parted, I pulled him down to rest on my chest. Not long after, Crosshair stirred under my hold. I let him go.

“You bet right.” 

Crosshair sat up. “Yeah?” He smirked as he stood up.

I followed, triggering a headrush that spun the room. As I leaned against the bed frame with my eyes closed I heard fabric pulling on skin and plastoid clinking together. Once the dizzy spell passed I opened my eyes to see Crosshair nearly dressed. He gave me a soft look, pausing his redressing for a breath. With his eyes on me, I took the moment to gesture towards the attached refresher in my bedroom. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded. 

But I knew he wouldn’t wait. Most of them wanted an easy getaway, so I started making this escape for the men I slept with. The best ones were always most eager to leave. Despite the habit, I couldn’t help myself from smiling sadly at my reflection once the door closed behind me. By the time I finished cleaning up, Crosshair would no longer be in my life.

Dividers by Djarrex

#The Red Logs - Related Stories #Delayed Fate - A Story From The Red Logs #star wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars fanfic #sw tcw fanfic #star wars prequels fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfic #crosshair/oc (anya tougt) #crosshair/anya tougt #crosshair/oc #first meeting fic #first kiss fic #first time fic #smut

[duckytree]

hamilton quote in 2023 again? yeah

now animated

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #leia organa #darth vader #princess leia #clone wars #art #fanart #hamilton #comic #duckytree #not even a hug can fix this #sanity is held together by time travel fix it fanfics

[4ndeka]

Its my bestie @cc-kote's bday today!! So i did a little codywan for him, as a treat (he also has a kick ass fanfic about them check it out)

#the fanfic takes place in the future on tatooine ben era #so its different from the above pic XD but its also very wholesome #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #star wars #clone wars #codywan #my art #READ MY FRIENDS FANFIC #U WONT REGRET HES A WORDSMITH