Dizzy | she/her Working on fanfiction will be cross posted on AO3 (must have a AO3 account to view my work, locked because of AI). https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzy_9906.
Sooooo. First time writing smut. Uhm. I'll just leave it here
One More Night (4614 words) by mystic3dream
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/CC-1010 | Fox
Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, CC-1010 | Fox
Additional Tags: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Old man smut, Switch CC-2224 | Cody, Switch CC-1010 | Fox, Order 66 Didn't Happen (Star Wars), Domestic Bliss
Series: Part 2 of After Everything We're Still Here
Summary:
"I'll prove to you we're still young enough for some things." Heat flickered behind Fox's eyes.
"Fox I don't want you to get hurt." Cody's hands hovered around his partner's middle.
oOo
"Am I not allowed to show my husband some love?"
"You never 'just show'." He pinched the skin just under Cody's ribs and Cody yelped. "Out with it."
"Okay, okay I yield." Cody chuckled and placed a quick peck on Fox's cheek. "It's my turn to prove myself."
Or: Cody and Fox prove to each other their bodies still hold up enough for intimacy
ba'jur bal beskar'gam – education and armour by kartaylirnaak
Rating: G, No Archive Warnings
@codywanweek 2025 Day 2 Prompt — Mandalorian culture/Clones raised as Mandalorians
Tags: Mandalorian clones, clones speak Mando'a, established Codywan, fluff, hand holding
The arrival of a padawan would be a deep and profound responsibility for both of them, and all of the vode under their command. An ad of their very own, to nurture and protect. Cody’s eyes flick back up to meet Obi-Wan’s from where they’d strayed while lost in thought. His jetii meets him as he always does, gentle reassurance and steadfast belief in his commander. Both of their hard edges softened when they’re alone together.
Or.
Codywan get a padawan.
always a sucker for wingfic! putting cody in the jar and shaking him for @drowninginmytbr
Overall, the most challenging element of the entire situation was the disappointing lack of professionalism in the conduct of his fellow officer.
After the third full minute of laughter, Cody’s patience had thoroughly expired. He took a deep breath through his nose, manfully refrained from rolling his eyes, and let the breath out again.
“Whenever you’re done, captain.”
The unspoken which had better be soon evidently managed to filter through the fluff Rex held between his ears, as Rex finally—finally—exerted some decorum and began to literally smother his giggles, pressing his hands over his mouth like a tubie. He remained doubled over, the side of his face pressed into Cody’s bunk where he’d partially collapsed, his helmet abandoned during the first wave of laughter. Rex’s eyes were bright and his cheeks stained with tears. He’d been weeping at Cody’s misfortune. Weeping!
They were at war and Rex was laughing in Cody’s face.
If anyone in Cody’s vicinity should be weeping, it was Cody himself.
“Sorry, Cody. Sorry,” Rex said, only to break off with a hiccupped giggle. He wiped his eyes on Cody’s bedsheet. “Sorry. I’m stopping.”
“You’re on laundry duty. Forever.”
“I know.” Another hiccup. Rex rolled his lips between his teeth. “Whew! I’m done.” He coughed and straightened to standing, where he smoothed down his chest armour as if it had become creased. He cleared his throat. “Done. I’m done.”
His gaze remained fixed on Cody’s face, determinedly so, like a shiny confronted with their first Twi-lek.
Cody arched a brow. The one on the scarred side, so Rex knew he meant business.
“Are you sure?”
A nod. “Very much so.”
“Then if I do this” –Cody twitched one of his new appendages and the tiny, useless wing sent a waft of sparkles billowing over Cody’s shoulder, straight at Rex’s smirking face— “you’ll be… That’s what I thought.”
Rex collapsed to the floor with a howl of laughter. Multicoloured sparkles stuck to his eyelashes and joined the constellations of shiny Force-knew-what already caught in his hair. Cody sighed. It had been an hour since he’d returned from the planet with the ancient temple, trailing a slug trail of sparkles throughout the Negotiator, and he had yet to devise a stratagem for recovery, because his second couldn’t stop laughing about it.
And they hadn’t even gotten to the part about General Kenobi.
“Do you think he’ll be much longer, Commander?” Kenobi asked, his voice nearly lost beneath Rex’s cackling.
Cody tapped the collar of his armour, nudging against the tiny hands holding on the rim. Kenobi hadn’t wanted to ride in Cody’s utility pouch, and had instead requested the view from Cody’s shoulder; as a result, he’d become nearly invisible within the plastoid. Rex had yet to notice him.
Finally getting his general into armour had not been worth the price.
In response to Kenobi’s question, Cody shook his head. Toeing Rex none too gently in the side, and getting only a red-faced giggling squirm of clone in response, Cody mentally wrote off the rest of his afternoon. He found himself wishing that General Skywalker were around, instead of off adventuring with Commander Tano.
That was what the situation had reduced Cody to: wishing for Anakin Skywalker to fix a problem.
Cold horror washed through Cody.
“I think I’m going to check in with the medics,” he said.
A sudden illness overtakes Doc as she and her squad find themselves trapped in a wintry outpost.
This can absolutely be read as a standalone fem oc x Crosshair fic, but for those familiar with Doc's Misadventures (hi! I love you!), this happens between An Ode to Artists and Fool's Errand. (Sorry it took a bit - this ended up being longer than I meant it to. Also, there will be a part 2) Also also, another huge thanks to the lovelies in Discord for helping catching typos and encouraging me to make it worse!!
Denial comes far too easily in those early hours; when grogginess can be excused - expected after a long mission on a miserable world where the air had been laced with icy frosts, sore muscles mere consequence of trudging through shoulder-high snowbanks, and that pounding in my head nothing more than dehydration. But Echo hadn’t been shivering. Tech voiced no concerns about the climate controls or life support systems within the tiny outpost where we’d taken shelter awaiting the storm to clear enough for us to try to reach our ship. And the thick layer of sweat soaking mockingly into my hair and plastering the suddenly too-rough fabric of my blacks against skin that hadn’t been nearly as sensitive the day before was far harder to dismiss.
Still, I willed myself to ignore it, to pretend, stifling the groan as I painstakingly swung my legs over the edge of a bed that could be called generous only in light of the offensively minuscule cots we’d grown accustomed to aboard the Marauder, pointedly forbidding myself from noting the clear outline of dampness darkening the sheets where I’d laid, the tangy scent of sweat heavy in air that I struggled to breathe through the congestion already clogging my sinuses and settling deep into my lungs.
I couldn’t remember Crosshair leaving; only vaguely certain he’d been here when I’d fallen asleep, cursing the stark chill of my body against his as we shivered beneath the lingering frost of the outside air. I hadn’t argued when Hunter volunteered to take first watch, nor when Tech agreed to take the second and Echo third, though some tinge of guilt reminded me that they hadn’t asked me purely from some sense of a pity I couldn’t let myself dwell on, at least not until I could breathe without my teeth clattering.
The small bunkroom was empty now, twin rows of perfectly kept bedding clearly illustrating that the others had yet to even attempt sleep. That should have bothered me more than it did… couldn’t focus on it, though, not when it was such a struggle to merely heave my armor into place, lips pulling into a weak scowl at how nothing seemed to fit right though I couldn’t bring myself to care enough to try to figure out why.
The room spun for the first few steps toward the door, and I had to lean forward, hand darting out to one of the empty beds to steady myself, visor fogging at the suddenly too-deep breaths causing my body to rock slightly, jaw hanging open. Just a head rush… I’d slept too long…
It lasted several seconds longer than it should have, but my balance gradually evened out to something near enough to normal for me to stand up once more, albeit with a slump that I begrudgingly blamed on a chill I knew had little to do with the cold.
Didn’t matter. We were on a mission. I couldn’t afford to hide away in the bunkroom in utter ignorance to the well-being of my squad. So, I walked, fighting the dizziness still taunting my every step, and I hated how I winced at the deafening hiss of the door sliding open, head throbbing in sync to my too-quick heartbeat.
It took a moment to catch the echo of voices humming from the far end of the hall, but just hearing them, knowing that they were near, granted both a comfort in the simple knowledge that they were here, that they were safe, as well as an encouragement to keep going, to fall into the rote motions of my role among them and treasure what mindlessness it might allow.
But then those distant voices fell silent, and I felt myself pause, tensing as my attention locked on the far corner.
“…Force’s sake.” Crosshair’s low growl pierced the quiet in time to the scrape of a chair being roughly pushed atop the hard floor, and I felt my shoulders draw back defensively before he even rounded the corner, those gleaming eyes already narrowed in a glare. “What the kriff are you doing out of bed?” He practically snarled, and I couldn’t stifle the confused, “w-what?” in time to make sense of his ire.
“Cross.” Hunter called, hushed warning clear in the deep timber of his smokey voice. Crosshair shot an impatient scowl over his shoulder before turning his attention back to me.
“You’re barely standing.” He pressed, arms taut as they looped across his chest. “Get back to bed before I have to carry your sorry shebs there.”
“Wh- no, I'm… I’m not going back to bed.” I stated, tripping over my words initially before managing to hold onto a single thought.
“Intentionally placing additional strain on your already compromised system will only prolong your illness.” Tech joined his brother in the hall, for once undistracted by some device or scrap of half-disassembled equipment, and my jaw ground at the imposing wall the two of them formed.
“It’s just a cold.” I dismissed vehemently, forcing my shoulders back and my chin up though they couldn’t see the frown tugging at my lips.
“Unless you’ve preformed a rapid antig-”
“I don’t give a damn if it’s a cold or the kriffing plague,” Crosshair interrupted, earning a sharp look from the brilliant pilot, “You’re sick.”
“I’m-”
“Doc.” Hunter pressed, strides almost apologetic as he stepped into view. “No one’s hurt. There’s no reason for you not to get some rest.”
“I’m supposed to be monitoring life support.” I argued, scowling at how weak it sounded. “And I have reports to write… they wanted…” The illusion of strength wavered, posture faltering as a too heavy breath fluttered unsteadily through ground teeth, body seizing beneath a sudden tremor that caught with mocking clarity through my modulator, and I couldn’t risk looking at them as I pretended that shiver wasn’t bleeding into my voice, “A, um… analysis on… turning this place into a… an emergency medcenter.” My hand rose listlessly to motion toward the surrounding building as though I hadn’t noticed Crosshair’s approaching footsteps, but when he reached for my helmet, when he pulled it free with movements far too careful for the impatience that had sharpened his words, I couldn’t hide the way my eyes ground shut against the blinding brightness of the hall, entire body curling forward with another violent shutter.
“It would make a shit medcenter.” That impatience was still there though he’d lowered his retort to an oddly gentle whisper. “Storms make it too hard to reach. Analysis done.” I let out a heavy breath, empty glare rising to find far too much concern in those attentive eyes for even the façade of my own annoyance.
“She can do all that in here.” Wrecker offered, rugged voice hushed into something far too timid for the powerful man. “Then we c’n keep an eye on her, and she don’t gotta be all alone in there.” Crosshair looked back toward the neighboring room though Wrecker remained just out of sight. When he turned back to me, however, it was with a silent plea that robbed whatever desperation for independence had driven me from the bunkroom in the first place, and I felt impossibly weak without it, head shifting in a barely-there nod.
Without waiting for any further prompting or arguing or delay, he crossed that final step, arm sliding tightly around my back until it seemed he was the only thing keeping me from crumbling, and I barely managed to bite back the whimper threatening to catch on a breath that shook even harder for the warmth I felt mocking me through the hard plates of armor between us.
“I’ll getcha somethin’ to rest on.” I could hear the breadth of his smile as Wrecker tread quickly past us.
Now void of even my own denial, I turned heavily into Crosshair’s embrace, slumping against his chest with a far too pitiful sigh, relieved at how readily he caught me, how his body curled so subtly around mine as his lips brushed against my hair.
“Come on,” he murmured, easing me forward just enough to prompt a half-step, “before I really do have to carry you.” I let out a small groan, more petulant than anything, but offered no further complaint before willing motion into my too-heavy limbs.
“… hate being sick…” I grumbled, and my heart jumped at the way his arms tightened around me.
“Then stop pushing yourself so damn hard.” He growled, but there was a softness in that low rasp that left me pressing closer against him.
Within mere minutes, Wrecker had a mattress pressed against the base of the center console, where the vent filtered air heated by the internal components to offer a constant warm breeze that drew a shameless moan from me as I nestled beneath it, body still curled into Crosshair’s side where he’d wordlessly sat leaning against the small mound of pillows, armor cast aside that I might thrill in the feeling of his lean form cradling me against him.
“Yeah, Cross did about the same thing.” The towering man chuckled, earning a snarl from the sniper, but whatever scathing retort he nearly spat fell silent as I shifted more comfortably against him. My eyes roamed to the datapad hazardously draped across my thighs, mind anywhere but the useless report awaiting my attention.
“Where’s…?” I started to ask before biting back the question, heart twisting at the still gnawing ache of how readily Echo seemed to evade me.
“Patrol.” Crosshair answered just a beat too sharply, and I felt myself wilt beneath something I didn’t want to name, be it guilt or sorrow or some crippling combination of the two, instead forcing my thoughts toward something just as worrying.
“Don’t want to get you sick…” I whispered, teeth gnawing on my lower lip, and I nearly felt his eyes roll.
“We don’t get colds.” He practically scowled, earning a tiny huff of laughter from me.
My eyes ached from squinting at the screen for far too long, cursing the blurry text as my shoulders bucked with a poorly stifled cough. Cross was dozing lightly, head tilted back against the console as his torso rose and fell in a slow, lazy rhythm. With an impatient, resigned sigh, I let the datapad drop back down atop my thigh, shifting to rest my cheek heavily against his chest, envious of his effortless breaths as my own lungs ached with the effort.
Another cough left the air catching in my throat as I struggled to silence it, but another came immediately after, and another until I had to lock my hand over my mouth to stifle it, the gesture useless amidst the way my diaphragm bucked, heart sinking as the movement roused the barely conscious man I lay curled up against.
“Mm… you ‘kay?” he mumbled, head rolling wearily toward me though he didn't bother with opening his eyes.
“Hm… m-hm.” I tried to hum, but it sounded more like a grunt from the effort it took to control my traitorous lungs, and that guilt grew as his brows drew together, abandoning the fringes of sleep to look down at me. Lip caught between my teeth, I quickly lowered my head, cheeks warming from more than just illness.
“Hey.” He called more pointedly, and I reluctantly forced myself to meet his gaze as his free hand moved to whisper against my jaw before touching his wrist to my forehead, frown deepening. “… you’re burning up…”
I drew a short breath, excuse bating atop my tongue, but that little gasp was too much, body folding forward with a violent series of coughs. My throat burned from it, head pounding, spinning; all thought of dismissing his growing concern caving as my lungs screamed for air.
“Kriff – Tech!” He shouted, but the others were already moving, crowding in as I clawed uselessly at my chest.
“This is precisely why I suggested a preemptive-"
“Just do something, dammit!” Crosshair snarled, hand sweeping along my back in a rhythm far too quick to offer any real comfort.
“M'fi- … m'fine.” I wheezed, hunching forward slightly as though I might escape the blurs of dark expressions staring at me.
“I can hear your lungs from here… that's not fine.” Hunter said, voice unnervingly quiet.
“It’s… s…” The slurred fragments of speech broke into a groan I couldn't bite back as another tremor tore through me, and I nearly whined as Crosshair pushed himself away, easing me down atop the creaky mattress alone.
Drowning. My jaw craned open with a gasp as that pressure in my chest suddenly grew, heels dragging atop the sheets as I struggled to haul myself back up. A flurry of shouted curses and orders boomed about the room as several hands grabbed onto my arms and shoulders, wrenching me upright. Too fast. The room spun, head lolling forward. Someone was yelling, and I strained to push through the heavy fog clouding my mind, wincing at the deafening crackle of air being drawn harshly through lips just hinting at a pained grimace.
“-vere pneumonia, but for it to develop this quickly is-”
“I don’t care about probabilities, Tech. What can we do to help her?” I wanted to snap at Hunter for cutting his brother off. Again. But that panic of suffocation left my breath too ragged to even attempt speech.
“This isn’t a medbay.” Tech replied sharply. “The supplies we have access to are extremely limited.”
“So, raid her damn medbag.” Crosshair ordered, and I vaguely realized he was pressed against my left side with Tech hovering to my right, his hand still held firmly to my shoulder to steady me.
“I have.” He bit back. “She carries equipment and supplies for acute symptoms, not severe illnesses that require a full course of antibiotics and supplemental oxygen.” I tried not to acknowledge the growing dread as I blinked back that lingering haze.
“You’re saying there’s nothing in there that we can use?” Hunter practically barked, and I finally managed to glance up to find him on a knee at the foot of the mattress, broad form blocking out the room around us.
“No, I’m merely stating that we’re operating with sub-par supplies and conditions, so what relief we can realistically offer is less that ideal.”
“Hey.” I grunted, striving for some sliver of mock-offence, but the sound was too brittle, voice frayed. Still, they instantly fell silent, attention darting back to me.
“I wasn’t implying any fault in how you’ve packed your medbag,” Tech offered, a softness in his words that made me want to melt against him, “however, circumstances like this aren’t generally considered during routine missions.”
“‘s… ‘s not… not tha’ bad when ‘m… s-sitting.” I stammered, cursing how that relentless shiver broke my already weak voice and left my aching muscles burning from overuse. The way Hunter’s expression darkened left me painfully certain none of them found any comfort in my attempted reassurance.
“Then we'll get you more pillows.” He murmured, and I wanted to be annoyed at the glimmer of pity quieting that low rumble… but I treasured the little flutter of warmth it sent trilling through me, the tiny relief it offered from the nauseating dance of fire and ice churning beneath my skin.
“Are you able to drink?” Tech's hand tightened around my shoulder for just a fleeting moment before finally moving away, and Crosshair took the opportunity to pull me more firmly against him as his brother reached for a canteen. “You're losing a substantial volume of fluid. I can administer an IV if preferable, but you should at least attempt to have some water.” I grimaced at the truth in his words, at how the clothes clung to my skin from an icy sweat that left the air around me too heavy, humid; stomach churning at the itch of it slipping down my neck and spine despite the violent chill that left my joints aching.
He’d removed the lid and brought the lip of the plastoid container to my lips before I’d even managed to nod, but I quickly pulled away, shaking hand wavering between us.
“I'll… don't… hmm… con… contaminate it…” My lips stumbled over the broken objection, jaw trembling too hard and breath stuttering too frequently for it to harbor any strength as a tiny whimper slipped between the words.
“I assure you, we have ample water sources.” I wasn’t used to hearing him whisper. “Right now, keeping you hydrated is a far greater concern.” And found myself unable to even try to doubt him. When he gently tilted the rim of the canteen toward me once more, I couldn't help but let my lips part for him, fingers automatically reaching for the canteen, too weak and unsteady to help, but he didn't brush me away.
My throat felt too stiff, the action of simply swallowing the cool water a far greater struggle than it should have been; what ought to be effortless suddenly clumsy as I struggled with just those few sips before faltering, choking, body jerking beneath harsh coughs that rekindled the consuming hurt shooting through my head with every frantic beat of my heart as my lungs burned from the strain.
Curses snarling through clenched teeth, Crosshair lunged forward with me, one arm wrapping around my chest to keep me steady while the other began to slam firmly between my shoulder blades as though he could help dislodge whatever miniscule traces of water left me sputtering for breath but he froze after the second one as my back arched away from him with a pitiful whine, and I told myself it was merely my own mind lapsing when I thought I felt his hands shake against me.
“I'll… prepare an IV…” The apology in Tech's voice left me wanting to scream an apology of my own. I wanted to beg them to just leave me to suffer through this in isolation rather than share in that suffering through vain attempts to help. I wanted to promise them that this would pass and I'd be fine, so they didn't need to regard me with a concern that left their footsteps muffled and speech lowered into careful whispers. I wanted to pretend that when Crosshair’s hand returned to my back with a soothing caress rather than that nearly frantic tapping, I didn't crumble with something too close to a sob for any of us to pretend otherwise, that I didn't let myself turn toward him with desperate, jilted movements, legs tangling in the sheets as my arms tried and failed to reach for him; that I didn't let out that weak, broken whimper as he dragged me back against him, arms locking about my waist and chest, one hand clawing into my hair as my jaw craned open around strained breaths, each one wheezing in a way that left him tensing with dread.
I barely noticed Tech gently untangle my hand from Crosshair's shirt until the chill of disinfectant left me convulsing with another violent shiver.
“Easy.” He murmured, “I'll try to be quick.” I didn't turn away from the safety of Crosshair's embrace, face pressed against the crook of his neck as though I might simply disappear into his warmth.
I was no stranger to needles, nor did I share in the fear they so often brought, but the way the nerves shrieked beneath that small pinch left my entire body bucking with a strangled gasp. I didn't see the startled look steal over Tech's face, but I felt how his hands tensed around mine for just a brief moment before he eased the needle in deeper, a displeased hum catching behind ground lips. With a quiet tsk, he pulled back, thumb pressing firmly against the tiny puncture.
“Apologies… I should have insisted on doing this earlier. Dehydration tends to make it substantially more difficult to place an IV, and it seems we can add hypersensitivity to your list of symptoms now…” He added with a slow sigh.
“You missed it?!” Cross nearly spat.
“Dehydration results in reduced blood volume, making veins more likely to roll or collapse, which is precisely what-”
“She never missed your vein when-”
“…Cross…” I barely managed to mumble his name, face cringing at the pressure in my head growing with his every harsh word. His jaw clicked shut, body rocking with a forcefully controlled exhale as his thumb swept apologetically along my hairline.
“Maybe you should take a walk, Crosshair.” Hunter’s voice went quiet, and the room seemed to pause in its wake as the weight of the air grew stifling; the silence it wrought seeming only to emphasize the painful wheeze I was trying so hard to muffle.
“No.” He responded lowly, hard eyes locked on his brother with an unspoken threat that left my heart pounding even faster.
“You don’t need to leave, but I would advise you focus on calming her rather than berating me.” There was a compromise in his words as Tech broke that heavy silence that did little to ease the defensiveness leaving Crosshair’s body taut around mine, but the seething man offered no rebuke as his brother began gently rolling up the sleeve of my shirt. I tried to bite back the little wince at how my skin balked at even that gentle pressure, but they both heard it, and his hands instantly paused.
“It might be easiest to simply cut this.” Tech offered, that foreign softness again sending a little trill flitting through my chest. I started to turn toward him, but abandoned the movement midway, head merely nodding weakly. I hated the way my body tensed for the coming shriek of tearing fabric, but his movements held such care that I didn’t feel the chill of metal as he eased the sheers between the fabric and his fingers, cutting through it so delicately that it wasn’t until feeling that rush of relief as that pressure around my arm suddenly vanished that I even realized he’d started, body deflating against Crosshair with a breathy sob.
“Shh…” Another day, I might have smiled at the uncertainty in his hushed murmur, but in that moment, I merely treasured him for the comfort it offered, body shivering pleasantly at the dance of his breath through my hair.
“This may be uncomfortable, but I don’t want to risk blowing another vein.” Tech warned apologetically, and I didn’t need to look to know he was retrieving one of the thin lengths of elastic to tie around my arm. Still, I wasn’t expecting how it pinched as he tightened it, body cringing with a whimper I tried uselessly to bite back. They’d never bothered me before… but everything felt sharper, nerves panicking at every touch like it was fire.
“Look at me.” Crosshair’s hand slid from my hair to cup my jaw, raising my gaze to meet his despite how impossibly heavy everything felt, how my head lolled limply against his palm, eyes parted just enough to glimpse him. “Just focus on me.” He ordered, and I tried to pretend I hadn’t felt the piercing chill dart through me as Tech disinfected the delicate skin in the crook of my elbow, how my muscles burned from that ceaseless tremble as I focused on meeting those piercing eyes.
“H… h-hap…pily.” I stammered with some heartbreaking facsimile of a smirk. The way his brow hitched ever so slightly with amusement was worth the effort, but it quickly faded back into that deep concern as my torso bucked with coughs I only barely managed to fight back, face turning into the gentleness of his palm for a long moment as I struggled to regain control of my diaphragm.
“I understand it’s painful, but coughing is an important part of breaking up the infection in your lungs.” Tech chided, cradling my arm patiently as he waited for it to pass. I couldn’t try to form a response for several seconds, the entirety of my dwindling strength focused solely on drawing air into my too tight chest.
“D… di… dizzy when… when I c-cough.” I said, words blurring together between sluggish lips and clattering teeth, and I regretted admitting it the instant I heard the heavy breath leave his lips.
“We’ll check the facilities again for a supply of supplemental oxygen… for now, just focus on breathing as deeply as you can.” I let out a noncommittal hum, pointedly turning my attention back to the calluses of Crosshair’s thumb shifting delicately along my cheek as Tech began feeling for a vein. “Would you like a warning?” He barely whispered it, as though that might grant me some façade of denial that he’d felt the need to even offer. I shook my head, willing it to just be done, that I might be allowed to simply close my eyes and escape for a moment.
“Hey, eyes on me.” Crosshair… I think I tried to scowl at the order, head resting even more heavily into his touch. “Doc.” He pressed. By the time the needle slid into my arm, I’d forgotten to anticipate the hurt it would bring, choked gasp ripping what little air I’d manage to drag into my lungs from me in a sudden rush. “… okay… easy, just… just breathe with me.” I hated the nervousness in his voice… It sounded wrong… but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more than huddle against him as my body trembled.
Next Chapter (coming soon since this was actually written and added retroactively...)
Continue Reading (Next arc)
Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!
someone asked me for fic recs and I already had it listed out, so I decided to post here! these are some of my fave fics that (for the most part) focus on whump. these are in no particular order. this is not an exhaustive list by any means, I have plenty of more favorites that I have saved but I wouldn’t quite call them whump fics. also, these don’t really encompass a broad variety of whump genres, more like I have a type and that is captivity/torture. yes, i’m a sicko.
if I could, I would rec everyone’s whumptober/febuwhump/etc, but maybe I’ll do that separately if there’s enough interest.
obviously, there’s some heavy shit on this list, including noncon, so please read the tags and take care of yourself.
Oh no! There's been an attack on Supreme Commander Chancellor Squeaks! Thank the Force that Commander Fox was there to protect him with his body! That's what it was, not an attempt on his life, what an absurd idea. Well, obliviously he's going to need a bodyguard now, even when he's being protected on the comfortable seat of Jedi Master Kenobi's lap.
The bodyguard in question would of course couldn't share the seat, how can they keep an eye out for enemies if they were so distracted by the comfy-ness, but the shoulders are a good vantage point!
Perhaps Commander Fox, who did such a good job last time? Or maybe dear Commander Cody, who's used to watching out for unseen dangers?
Or maybe take a note from Naboo and have some body doubles to join Squeaks on Obi-Wan's lap?
Cody hates Coruscant. Using His jedi as a glorified cat tree. Not even saving him a shoulder. Evil Vod.
This 14 week prompt challenge focuses on Star Wars clones - whether those clones be beloved canon characters or lovingly created OCs!
Visit the website to find out more about this event and get all the details HERE!
Below the cut, you will find quick links and reference to all the things, including prompts, weekly themes, event banners & dividers, and more!
[[You can find the Weekly Themes post HERE with the text version of the image below.]]
And our 14th week will be a special week dedicated to the best fans a fandom could ask for: YOU!!
Weekly themes are going to be what the event blog's activities will revolve around. Polls, ask and tag games, etc will focus on these themes -- if you'd like your prompt fills to match the theme too, that's totally up to you! It might pose an extra challenge if that's something you're looking for 😉
Prompts will be released every Monday at 12:01 am CST
