There are so many clones that fly totally under the radar, and this is a place for them to get the love and attention all copy paste boys deserve.
If you’re interested in participating, please fill out this form, and shoot me a message letting me know.
Once we hit the deadline (September 14th, 2023), I’ll send you the url of the person you’ll be writing for, and their top 3 underrated clones. Once you finish the fic, submit it, and I’ll post it 💙
Since NSFW fics are an option, MINORS CANNOT participate in this event. Please DNI.
This is a work in progress, so keep an eye on this space for the upcoming FAQ 😎
Thinking about doing a "from the grave" Q&A for Grave Squad, answered in the POV of the clones themselves, as well as answers from Dax'Malkin and Athena!! Is this something you guys would enjoy?
A/N: This is a collaboration between @anxiouspineapple99 and @dystopicjumpsuit , written as a gift for @deewithani
Pairing: Sergeant O’Niner x Reader (GN)
Rating: M (minors DNI)
Wordcount: 1.5K
Warnings and tags: angst; fluff; little bit of smut (nipple play; implied oral sex); not canon compliant; everyone lives AU
Summary: Sergeant O’Niner must have nine lives. How else could he have survived the battle of Rishi Moon?
The Coruscanti rain pelted the window of your office, relentless as the ache in your chest as you sat sipping tea and flipping through the latest issue of the Bar’leth Journal of Galactic Archaeology. You normally loved the soothing pitter patter of water on transparisteel, and even now, you would have been relaxed by it if it weren't for the nagging anxiety that plagued your thoughts.
It had been one week since the news broke that the Separatists had attacked Rishi, and the outpost had been destroyed. One week of pure torture as you waited for word about O’Niner’s fate—all the while, keenly aware that the GAR would never notify you directly, given that your relationship with the sergeant was not only unsanctioned, but perilously close to forbidden. It felt unfair—even cruel—but there was no way you could discover what had happened to him through official channels.
As the days passed, your despair grew, until late one afternoon, your comlink chirped, and when you answered, you saw the beloved face you’d come to believe you might never see again. You tried to say his name, but all that came out of your mouth was a broken, hoarse croak as tears of relief stung your eyes.
“Ner cyare,” he murmured, holding the holo close enough that all you could see was his face.
You instinctively reached out to touch him, pulling back as your fingers encountered nothing but air and light as you whispered, “I thought you were…”
“I know,” he replied quietly. “I’m sorry; I commed as soon as I could.”
“Are you all right?” you asked, your voice finally coming back to you.
“I am,” he replied. “And so are all the men. I still can’t believe we all made it out alive.”
You let out a relieved laugh that sounded more like a sob. “I swear, you must be a loth-cat with nine lives.”
“You didn’t think my name came from my CT number, did you?” he grinned.
“What happened?” you asked. “How did you survive?”
He chuckled. “That’s a good story, and I can’t wait to tell you in person.”
Your heart began to pound. “In person? Are you coming back to Coruscant?”
“As soon as—” He cut off abruptly as he heard the approaching footsteps of a group of troopers. “Gotta go.”
The transmission cut off abruptly as O’Niner ended the comm. You waited for him to call back, staring at the chrono on your desk as minutes ticked by at an agonizing pace. The call never came, and you accepted that O’Niner might not be able to find an opportunity to call again.
The afternoon passed in excruciating slowness until at last, you decided you had suffered long enough and began to pack up to go home. The downpour had relented to a miserable drizzle by the time you made your way to the platform to hail a speeder-cab.
Your eyes fluttered shut as your head rested on the headrest. The anxiety that had swirled in your gut all week had now transformed into a dull, unyielding ache of longing and missing and wanting and needing. Your mind wandered, and you were so distracted that you missed the quiet ping of your datapad as your home security system alerted you that it had been turned off.
As the speeder-cab pulled up to your building, the rain began to fall in a torrent, and you darted through the downpour toward your door, hastily keying in your code and ducking inside your flat. You shook the water off and pulled off your raincoat, reaching to hang it up when you heard a soft sound from the other end of the flat. You froze, then turned around slowly.
A light was on in your refresher; you could see it shining from under the closed door. You crept down the hallway, and suddenly the refresher door opened. You shrieked with alarm and flailed your raincoat at the intruder, then whirled and fled down the hall, running for your life.
“Cyar’ika, wait!” a familiar voice called.
You skidded to a halt and turned around slowly. O’Niner stood just outside the refresher, wrapped in nothing but a towel as steam poured from the open door.
“O’Niner.” His name left your lips as a desperate whisper. “You’re home!”
A soft smile crossed his lips and slid up to his sparkling amber eyes. You bounded toward him without wasting another second, colliding with his body as you wrapped him in a tight embrace. A hiss of pain rushed through his clenched teeth.
Startled, you pulled back. “I’m so sorry!”
“Worth the pain, darling.” He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms as he pressed his forehead against yours. His velvety voice sent chills dancing down your spine. “Were you planning on beating me to death with your raincoat?”
“Maybe.” Your eyes flicked to the fresh bacta patch obscuring his abdomen. “You’re hurt. You said you were okay.”
Suddenly every new bruise and scrape was illuminated in the low light of your apartment. Your brow knit tightly in concern as you leaned back to inspect his injuries.
“I’m alive, little one,” he said softly. “That means I’m fine.”
“That’s why the holo was zoomed in on your face!” Your voice rose slightly, worry lending it an accusatory edge.
“I’m. Fine,” he enunciated firmly as he grasped your shoulders.“Don’t look at me like that. If I’d told you I’d been shot you would have panicked.”
“I do not panic!” you objected.
He chucked you under the chin, a soft smile crossed his lips. “You’re panicking right now.”
“No, I’m not—Fine. Yes. I might be panicking a little,” you pouted. He may have been right, but you didn’t have to be happy about it.
His other hand caressed and massaged your hip as he leaned closer to you. “You know, you still haven’t kissed me yet.”
You drew in a shuddering breath, pushing down your anxiety and irritation as you tried to focus on the present: he was home; he was alive; he was with you. You raised your fingers to his face and traced the lines at the corners of his eyes, then slid your fingertips into his dark hair that was flecked with gray as you drew his face closer to yours and pressed your lips against his forehead. You kissed a trail down the side of his face until you reached the corner of his lips, and then he wrapped you in his arms and pulled your body against him as his mouth captured yours in a heated, passionate kiss.
He was still soaking wet from his shower. The glistening water droplets sliding down his firm, brown chest and abdomen soaked your shirt, and you didn’t care a bit. It didn’t matter anyway, because his deft fingers were already undoing your buttons and pushing the shirt off your shoulders.
You kissed down his neck, and then down his chest, but you hesitated and pulled away, staring at him with troubled, anxious eyes.
“I promise, I’m all right,” he reassured you. “But if you’re so concerned, you could always kiss it better. One kiss for every injury, ner kar'ta?”
His heated smile reassured you more than anything else he could possibly have said, but you weren’t letting him off the hook so easily for trying to hide his injuries from you.
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you pointed out.
“You would deny a dying man his final wish?” he teased, desire plain his eyes.
“You said you were fine.”
“Mmm,” he grunted softly as his gaze swept over your features wistfully while his hands lingered at your waist. “I may have spoken too soon. I’m suddenly feeling so… very… weak…”
“Incorrigible,” you muttered, peppering his chest with kisses, licking up the shimmering water droplets that still clung to his skin, scraping your teeth softly over his nipples in the way that you knew drove him wild.
He rumbled quietly as his fingers tangled in your hair, gently urging you to go lower. You glanced up at him with a mischievous light in your eyes as your tongue swirled over his nipple, refusing to continue your progress until his breath became ragged and he was starting to moan and whimper, just the way you liked. At last, you drew away.
“I think you’ve earned a real bed, don’t you?” you asked.
He nodded, his eyes dark with lust as you took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom. Your fingers trailed down his body until you reached his towel, and with a quick tug, it fell to the floor.
“As much as I’d love to tackle you onto that bed, I think it might be better if you just lie down,” you murmured. “I’d hate for the night to end with you in a hospital.”
“Might be worth it,” he smirked.
You traced over his shoulders, then gently pressed on them until he complied and lay down on his back.
“We can play rough some other time,” you whispered as you knelt between his thighs. “Tonight, I’m going to be very, very gentle.”
“Not too gentle, I hope,” he said before sucking in a loud breath as your tongue glided over the tip of his cock. “Holy Maker, cyare.”
“There’s nothing holy about what I’m going to do to you,” you promised. “But I have a feeling that won’t be the only time you pray to the Maker tonight.”
Summary: Who knew that being a medic would be so dangerous? Thankfully, there's an ARC trooper there to catch you every time.
ARC trooper Chaos x GN Reader!
Word Count: 2,682
A.N: Hello there! I am here for another round of rare clone fun, this time for the amazing @523rdrebel ! I really hope you enjoy my take on Chaos!
This takes place during the Battle of Kanino and the events of "Shadow of Malevolence"
Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of injured clones, the reader gets injured but not in great detail, just being in dangerous situations in general so please be wary of that!
If the red lights weren’t enough to send you into a panic, the blaring alarm was certainly pushing it to the edge.
Kamino was under attack, Kamino may very well fall if the droid army overwhelmed the skilled troopers in numbers alone.
“Keep calm, panicking won't do anyone any good, especially now.” It was a mantra you told yourself over and over again, but you were no soldier. You had come here for advanced medical training, focused on clones specifically, not to learn firsthand how to keep your cool in a full-scale invasion.
“Not to be a pessimist,” coughed one of the only conscious men as he watched you work, “but I don't think that door is going to hold if they come this way.”
You tried to suppress a sigh at that, because deep down you knew he was right. There were twenty-three troopers sealed in here with you, none of them able to do more than lift their heads, if move at all. The rest who had been recovering in your little wing, the ones who were able-bodied in the slightest, had run off to find gear and weapons, to join the fray. To protect their brothers.
If the droids found you, it would be like shooting billfish in a barrel. Even still, you couldn’t sit here and do nothing. The few who were awake watched as you threw empty beds on their sides to create a barrier between them and the door; looked on as you braced tables and any other obstacle in front of bacta tanks for any hope of cover for the men inside them.
It was all weak attempts, but you had to do something.
Just as you were rechecking the seal on the door for the hundredth time, you heard the sound of plastoid against the durasteel floor. Through the window of the door, you saw him, down the red-hued hallway.
The trooper’s paintless armor was covered in something as he limped towards the door, and not even the crimson lights could hide what it was.
Thankful that you had left just enough room to open the door for this very reason, you unsealed it in a hurry. It slid open just as he braced himself on the door frame and he practically fell into your arms.
“They- They’re,” his breathing was labored and shallow, even as you practically dragged him to the nearest bed. “They’re coming- weren’t far behind-” he coughed as you unsealed his helmet and tossed it aside, and he only managed a few more mumbled words before his eyes fluttered shut and he went limp against the pillows.
A new fear stirred as you pressed fingers to his neck, but it was soothed when you felt a faint but still beating pulse. Only years of training to fall back on kept your hands from shaking as you hooked him up to a bacta drip. He would need all his injuries examined and cared for later, but this should keep him from crossing death’s door for now.
You had just finished when a shiver ran down your spine and your head snapped back to the door. The sound of marching metal echoed towards you over the alarms.
As if on their own accord, your feet took a few steps towards the door, ears ringing from that dreadful sound coming closer and closer. Then your eyes darted to the rifle that trooper had dropped by the door.
You didn’t even think twice, you darted for the weapon, grasped it in your now shaking hands, and took cover behind your pitiful barricade.
Behind you, one of the men tried to sit up in his bed, “No, give the blaster to me, you can’t-” but his protest was cut off by a cry of pain as he fell back once again.
No one could blame him for trying, but no one here was in any state to fight. Maybe you weren’t trained the way they were and maybe you were shaking like a baby tooka, but you’d be damned if those droids came in here and blasted away without any fight at all.
The sound of the enemy was closing in now, and any of them could blast through that door with ease. At least coming through said entrance would bottleneck them and give you some advantage.
The adrenaline that had been burning your veins since the start of the battle made it even harder to keep your aim steady as you lifted the rifle. Then, just as the marching sounds seemed to become deafening, it stopped, leaving a ringing silence for one slow heartbeat.
Then came the explosion.
The sound alone knocked you back and had your ears screaming as you fought to open your eyes and aim at the door. You pulled the trigger and unleashed a spray of laser fire at the B1 droids trying to file in. The narrow opening aided your untrained shooting and two fell before they could make it through.
The others didn’t stop though, they climbed over their soulless comrades without hesitation and only a third hit the ground before one finally got inside.
Panic- or maybe it was bile, rose in your throat as the battle droid drew closer to your cover, which of course made your shots sloppy and crazed. You barely even registered that the droid had taken aim at you before you felt the searing pain hit your shoulder.
Somehow you kept your grip on the blaster even as you fell back and heard one of the men shout your name. Again, you lifted the weapon as you scrambled back and managed to hit it in the arm as it trained its blaster on you again.
Even with that to delay it, there was no way it couldn’t get a kill shot at this close range, but you kept firing. You kept fighting. With one good arm, it trained the blaster on you-
Then it seemed to pause.
Its expressionless faceplate turned towards a bigger threat, just as a grenade lit up the doorway, and its friends, like fireworks.
Again your ears rang but even with that you heard a barrage of blaster fire and a fierce battle cry, “That’s right, eat laser, clankers!”
The droid in front of you fired into the fiery fray, letting off two useless blaster bolts before its head was taken off by a well-placed shot.
Your eyes had just snapped to the doorway when an armored figure rolled through the smoke. He scanned his new surroundings slowly, blaster at the ready and willing to fire at any other sign of danger.
Once sure that the area was secure, his visor snapped to your prone figure. “Are you alright?” He stood in a graceful motion despite the extra accouterments of his ARC armor and started towards you.
“I’m fine,” you lied through teeth gritted against the pain in your shoulder, then looked behind you to your patients. “Check them, make sure they-”
“We aren’t any worse off than before,” one of them grumbled, glaring down at you in a way that you knew was laced with concern. “Worry about the medic who thought they were a soldier all of the sudden!”
If your pain wasn’t at full agony level, you would have made some quip about protecting his hide well enough. Instead, you just groaned as you shifted to sit against the wall better.
Before the ARC could comment on the situation one way or the other, the commlink on his bracer blinked.
“Attention, all units,” came a static voice, “General Grievous and the assassin Ventress have fled the capital. All droid forces are retreating!”
The few clones who could clapped and cheered at the news, but none were as loud as the ARC who whooped as he punched the air. You yourself managed a smile, though the thought of everyone who would need medical attention did come to mind almost immediately.
All of those thoughts were lost, however, when the man who had come to your rescue lifted his helmet. “Alright, let's have a look at you now.” He leaned down, and didn’t even have to move the collar of your medical smock to see how bad it was. “Where’s your stims and bacta patches?”
You nodded up at the cupboards, “Top cabinet.”
Once he had the supplies in hand, he knelt before you and gave you the shot with surprising gentleness.
“Have you been medically trained?” You found yourself asking.
A smile that was charmingly lopsided lifted his lips. “I’m an ARC trooper, I’m trained in everything.” He drew out the last word and winked very deliberately as he moved to push your smock aside.
In your short time on Kamino, you had discovered that there were very subtle differences that made all clones unique, even in their looks. At this closeness, you saw his, the way he had a small shadow of a beard, the few scars flecking his face, and that his hair was just a little longer than the standard cut.
You scolded yourself then, this was no time to admire his good looks.
“Where's the rest of your squad,” you asked, only just now noticing that he seemed to be alone, which was unusual, even for an ARC.
“They're securing the DNA room, I came this way on my own when I saw those clankers.”
“You went after them by yourself? That was pretty reckless, trooper.”
He shrugged, again with that half smirk, “One of the many reasons they call me Chaos I guess.”
You bit back a hiss as he covered your wound with the batca patch, “That your name?” You asked through gritted teeth.
“Yup. Not that I'm picky about what good-looking natborns call me.”
That gave you pause, certainly he wasn't trying to flirt in the midst of all this…well…chaos.
“There you go,” he finished, tucking your clothes back in place with care, “not as good as a medic like yourself, but it should get you through.”
“Good,” you saw the rise of his brow as you climbed to your feet, “I need to get my emergency kit and start searching for survivors.”
Chaos jumped to his feet, big strong arms darting out to steady you when you swayed. “Woah now! You sure you're in any condition to jump into all that?”
“I have to be,” was your reply, which was thankfully strengthened as your head slowed its spinning. Thank the maker for stims.
You tried to extricate yourself from his arms and, while he did let you go, he hovered quite close as you went to retrieve your supplies.
“Well then, guess I better escort you,” Chaos declared, reaching for a pack of stims when you grimaced at lifting your arm.
“Won't you be needed elsewhere?”
“I don't think anyone will complain about me helping you treat my brothers.” He snatched up the medic bag the moment you zipped it closed, slinging it over his shoulder. “And I don't think you'll complain about having another pair of hands.” He winked, again, and it was all you could do not to make it obvious how much the act flustered you.
After clearing your throat, you said a quiet, “Thank you.”
This time, when he smiled, it was softer than his smirk. “Just make sure you stay close to me, mesh'la.”
“Oh for kriff sakes, get a room!” Groaned one of the bedridden clones.
That made it impossible to hide your flustered state, but all Chaos did was laugh as he took your arm, a silent urge to lean on him as you walked.
“Don't listen to him, I'll buy you a drink before any of that,” he whispered to you.
Maker, this man might just be the death of you.
Another year, another life-threatening situation.
Honestly, the fact that this was only your second time working under red lights and blaring alarms was a small miracle. Then again, only a true sleemo like General Grievous would attack a medical station with nothing but injured clones aboard.
Your knuckles were white as they gripped the rails of the gurney. At least your death grip was needed as the station shook and rocked with every bombardment.
When you turned a particularly sharp corner, the man on the gurney groaned over his oxygen mask.
“Hey now,” you said in what you hoped was a calming tone, even as you had to yell over the alarms. “Stay with me, trooper, we’re almost there!”
His eyes were bleary as they looked up at you, in his critical state he was probably barely aware of what was happening. Still, he gave the smallest of nods before his eyes fluttered closed again.
Most of your fellow medics had already taken critical patients to the escape pods, the only reason you were lagging behind was because it was more than a challenge to get this one’s vitals stable among all the current mayhem.
You just hoped it wasn’t too late.
Another sharp turn and you realized shouting had joined the evacuation horn. A clone officer was leaning out the hatch of an escape pod and the moment he saw you he was waving his arm with urgency.
The encouragement was not really needed, your legs were already burning with how fast you had been running. The separatist fleet must have gotten another good hit on the medical vessel, because a particularly violent shake almost sent you toppling forward.
The only thing that stopped your patient from tipping forward in the quake was the fact that the clone officer caught the gurney.
“Is this the last one?” he asked as he pulled his brother into the escape pod.
“Yes, in this sector at least.”
“Good, he told us to wait for you.”
He. That made your eyes widen, yet, a quick glance inside the pod told you that he wasn’t there. You couldn’t help it, you turned those wide eyes to search frantically down the hallway. He couldn’t have gone far, he would have-
Another vicious shake halted your thoughts as well as your searching. In fact, so caught up in the moment were you, that you didn’t even notice the cords coming loose from the bulkhead.
“Look out!”
A flash of a blur, then something collided with you, hard, and sent you tumbling straight into the escape pod. Somehow, over the alarm and the crackle of electricity, you heard someone order the pod to be launched. And the only thing that kept you from panicking, was the reassuring (if not slightly oppressive) weight on top of you.
That stomach-light feeling of tumbling through space had to be shoved aside as you looked up into the familiar visor of the man who had you so worried.
“Cutting it pretty close, weren’t you, mesh’la?” Chaos said, that teasing tone coming through even with the barrier of his helmet.
“You’re one to talk,” your reply came out more shaky than you wanted, but there wasn’t much room to care.
From his spot above you, your ARC trooper chuckled, then reached up to unseal and lift his bucket off his head. “Well, you know me, have to swoop in and save you all knight-like when the chance comes up.”
Your hand lifted of its own accord, cupping his cheek, “My hero, as always.”
That lopsided grin you loved so much flashed across his lips, just before he lowered them to your own.
“Oh, maker!” someone groaned.
“How long are we gonna be crammed in with the love birds?” another added.
“Too long.”
“Someone launch me into space, please.”
Thankfully, the sound of your lips parting from Chaos’ was drowned out by the complaints. You laughed lightly as you said, “I think annoying your brothers after you save me is another tradition of ours.”
“Good, it’s fitting,” he purred as he leaned down to kiss you again.
Which of course, earned a whole new chorus of groans and jabs. Fortunately, neither you nor Chaos could find the gumption to care much.
Warnings: Explosion at Rishi Station, some angst but plenty of fluff, description of injuries and healing, kissing, cuddling
A/N: This was written for @sinfulsalutations as part of the @rare-clone-fic-exchange. I hope you enjoy this. It's my first time writing Hevy, but I love him.
Summary: This is a Hevy Lives AU. You're a GAR contractor who takes supplies to various outposts, including Rishi Station. You strike up a friendly relationship with Hevy and are devastated to learn of the explosion, doing what you can to reach out to him once he heals, and getting a lot closer along the way.
Other characters mentioned: Domino Squad, 99, and OC clone medic Shots
Hevy did not like Rishi Station. All that training just to get here? The time passed in the usual way. You connected via comms, bringing a shipment of cargo in for the squad. He acknowledged when you asked for permission to land. Your job had you skipping around to various outposts bringing supplies. Sometimes, you were the only outside face they saw for many rotations.
You landed and Hevy greeted you as you got off the ship. Echo confirmed the cargo you brought was exactly what they ordered. Ration bars, dehydrated soup mix, standard issue soap and shampoo, and five sets of spare blacks. The boys all helped you unload the cargo and Hevy decided to walk you back to the ship. He didn’t have to. He wasn’t sure what propelled him forward, but he thought it would be a nice gesture.
“Thanks, Hevy,” you said, just before boarding.
“My pleasure,” he replied. He smiled slightly and gave a small nod. You returned the smile and had a feeling this was going to become your favorite stop on this route.
Every two weeks you would stop at Rishi Station with supplies and every two weeks Hevy would be there to greet you. You got to know Domino Squad well and made sure it was your last stop of the day so that you could take your time without having to worry about where you were headed next. You started including a few things that were not standard issue, just so they didn’t feel forgotten out there. They appreciated the fresh fruit, candy, and puzzles.
“You don’t have to do that,” Hevy said, as he watched his brothers immediately start scrutinizing one of the puzzles, excited for something new.
“I know,” you answered, “I just thought you’d like it.”
“I do,” he said with a smile. “I mean, er, we do. We definitely do.”
He walked you to your ship again, but instead of boarding right away, you stood outside long enough to look at the stars. You didn’t want to stay out too long with the local fauna being what they were, but you loved how clear the sky was tonight and you were really starting to like Hevy. He was strong and loyal to his brothers, but there was a gentleness to him too. You looked at the night sky together and showed him some of the routes you took, your finger tracing a course between dotted planets. Hevy committed them to memory so he could think about you flying around out there, somehow close even if you weren’t there with him.
“If they ever let me off this moon, can I take you on a proper date?” The question escaped his lips before he even had the chance to stop himself.
“I’d like that very much,” you replied. “I live on Coruscant. I’m sure we could find something to do.”
“It’s a date then,” he said, reaching for your hand. You softly clasped his hand in your own, giving it a light squeeze and feeling heat fill your cheeks. You were stuck staring into each others eyes and smiling when your chrono went off, reminding you that you definitely had to leave.
“I’m sorry,” you sighed.
“I understand,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze in return and letting it go. “Until next time.”
You nodded with a grin and got on your shuttle. He watched you fly away before rejoining his brothers.
There was not to be a next time, though. You’d never go back to Rishi Station. Several rotations after you left, there was an attack. You heard about it from some other troopers on your route and your heart dropped to the floor. It was another rotation before Echo managed to find you through a GAR database and managed to contact you. They were back on Kamino with Hevy. He’d nearly died, but somehow, the side panel on the bomb they made managed to stay intact and push him out of the building, protecting him from certain death. Still, he was badly injured and the Kaminoans weren’t sure he would make it. If several jedi generals hadn’t intervened, he might not have found himself in a bacta tank. He had massive burns all over his body and a massive concussion along with internal bruising. The recovery would not be easy. His armor had been mostly destroyed, but it helped save him.
When you received the message, you read it as quickly as you could, hoping against hope that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. You started crying when you read that Hevy was alive. Although your heart broke every time you got to know a clone and found out the war had taken them, Hevy was special to you. You gave yourself a moment to let the tears flow as relief swept through your being. Once you were ready, you read the rest of the message. Hevy was doing poorly, but they were trying to keep him alive long enough for him to heal. Echo and Fives had joined the 501st and Hevy was set to join too, as long as he pulled through. He was stuck on Kamino in the meantime. He and Fives wanted you to know, but they couldn’t say more than that. You immediately asked if you could come and see him, but the Kaminoans didn’t want that. You didn’t really have a reason to be on Kamino and sneaking you in so you could visit had its risks. Your heart sank again, but in your correspondence, Fives had an idea. He asked if you could send a voice recording for Hevy and they could play it to him to try to help lift his spirits. They didn’t know if he could even hear it while in the bacta tank, but it was worth a shot.
And so, Echo and Fives found themselves standing outside Hevy’s bacta tank playing your recording multiple times a day. Hi Hevy. It’s me. I heard what you did and what happened. I’m proud of you and you need to get better. You still owe me a date. Promise me you’ll be there. When Echo and Fives had to ship out with the 501st for their next mission, they gave the recording to 99, who sat there diligently playing your message at least once a day and keeping Hevy company. After a couple rotations he started to notice Hevy’s hand twitched when he heard the recording.
Hevy heard your voice and his brain was trying to comprehend where he was. Was he alive? How was he alive? He felt himself floating and could hear 99’s voice after yours. He wished more than anything to see his brothers and to see you. He promised himself he’d find his way back to you.
It was only one more rotation and he was out of the tank. He was greeted by 99, a medical droid, and a clone medic named Shots.
“Glad to have you back, Hevy,” smiled 99, as the droid and Shots helped Hevy dry off and lay down.
“Glad to be back, 99,” he replied.
Shots and the droid started scanning Hevy and he just rolled his eyes.
“I just woke up,” he protested.
“Yes, but the faster we scan you and confirm you’re fine, the sooner you can leave,” Shots retorted with a grin.
Hevy sighed and waited, keeping a particular eye on the droid. There wasn’t a single clone he knew who loved the medbay or wanted to spend more time there than they had to.
“Okay, looks like your burns healed, internal bruises are mostly gone, and you have no signs of concussion,” Shots reported. “We’ll get you a training session to see how that goes, but barring any major issues, you should be ready for duty.”
Hevy was pleased with the news. 99 walked him down to his temporary quarters and told him what happened during and after the explosion. Hevy took in the information and accepted that it just wasn’t his time yet. At least they had been successful in defending Rishi Station.
“99?”
“Yes?”
“There was another voice. When I was in the tank. I heard your voice and one other.” He didn’t want to give too much away, but he had to know.
“Oh yes,” 99 replied. “Echo left this for you. Something about communicating with a supplier?”
Hevy smiled. “Thanks 99.”
A couple rotations later he passed a physical exam, was cleared to join the 501st, and headed out into battle, but not before following the instructions Echo left for how to contact you. It all seemed to happen so quickly in your mind. He nearly died and they were already sending him into battle. In his message, he explained what he remembered and promised you he’d be on Coruscant soon. You wanted to see him before he headed into battle, but knew that’s not how the GAR worked.
You kept yourself busy in the meantime, still delivering supplies to the outposts and adding a new stopping point. Every time you went past the old route that would have taken you to Rishi, you smiled to yourself. You missed that stop. You missed him. You were thankful you got to have some text correspondence while he was gone so you knew he made it through each day. He wasn’t allowed to say much about where he was or what he was doing as that was on a need-to-know basis and the army certainly didn’t want to risk soldier’s transmissions being intercepted while communicating with a civilian, but you heard from him and that got you through the day. Your messages started getting more personal, allowing him to know you and asking questions about him. You told him about a cool plant you saw in the market or the new flavor of ration bar which did not taste as good as was advertised.
On his end, Hevy looked for a new message from you every chance he got. They always made him smile. He loved reading about life on Coruscant, learning about your friends and the places you liked to go. He loved all the little details too. He had gotten to know you and really liked you before the accident, but he was seriously falling for you now. He would be on Coruscant soon and felt his heart pound as he wrote, “So what about that date?”
On your end, you had to read the words over and over, just to make sure you still weren’t making it up. You replied, “I’m ready when you are.”
The day came and your mind was only on him. You didn’t pretend to care about work that day, so much as deciding to take the day off so you weren’t distracted while flying. Hevy wore a new set of fatigues and stood a little awkwardly at your predetermined meet-up location, but he didn’t have to wait long. As soon as he saw you he ran to embrace you. It felt like the most natural thing. You held on to his back and shoulders, subconsciously trying to make sure he was really here. You breathed deeply and felt tears coming to your eyes. You pulled away from the hug a little, your hands tracing down each arm and resting on his hands.
“You’re here,” you said, looking up into his beautiful brown eyes. “You’re really here.”
He hugged you again. “I finally made it, cyare.”
There was so much you wanted to show him. You took his hand and led him through that part of town, stopping at one of your favorite places to eat. He wanted to try more food than he could possibly fit in his stomach and you told him you’d just have to bring him there back again and again. Now that he was here you could take your time. Even though the war was still going on, you had this moment right now and you weren’t going to waste it. Hevy loved walking around with you and held your hand the entire time, not wanting to let go. You walked him through a small festival, enjoying the music while lights shown through blown glass art in every color. It was beautiful, but it was even better that you were sharing the experience. You chatted well into the night until the festival was starting to shut down.
“I don’t want this night to end,” you admitted.
“I don’t either,” he agreed.
“When do you ship out next?”
“A week. The 501st boys really needed a break. I just joined them, but they’ve been out there fighting for a long time without shore leave.”
“Hevy,” you retorted with a grin, “You are part of them now and you need a break too. Besides, you just got blown up.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough.”
You looked down and thought for a moment.
“What is it,” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
You shook your head. “I was just wondering if maybe you’d like to spend the night at my place. Nothing more than… I don’t know if that would be too much.”
“I’d love to,” he answered. “I’d also love to kiss you.”
You beamed and leaned toward him. His lips planted firmly on yours made you both smile. As he pulled away you surged forward just a bit to leave one more little kiss for him.
He took your hand and let you lead the way. You were just one level down and it wasn’t long before you let him inside, suddenly wondering why you hadn’t cleaned up more. Hevy didn’t mind though. He didn’t even notice. He liked seeing where you live and seeing your personality in the little items you had around your home. After you both took your boots off, he grinned and picked you up, kissing you again.
“Oh! Hevy!” You looked down, a little unsure. He calmly looked up at you, happy to have you in his arms.
“I carry a Z-6 rotary cannon,” he said confidently. Then, a little softer he added, “I could carry you anywhere. Just say the word.”
You leaned down and rested your forehead to his, placing your arms on his shoulders and smiling down at him.
You whispered, “For tonight, how about you just take me that way.” You tilted your head and looked down the hallway toward your bedroom.
He grinned, “I can do that.”
You found yourselves in bed, snuggling against each other. While the environment was new to him, because it was you and your home, he immediately relaxed. Right now, the war didn’t exist. Right now, he was with you. He was alive and here and happy. He settled against the pillow and pulled you a little closer. You kissed him again.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said quietly.
“So am I, cyar’ika.”
You listened to his heartbeat and felt his chest rise and fall with each breath. It was comforting. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep in each other’s arms, wanting nothing more than to steal away any moment with him you could get.
Thanks to everyone who is participating in this wonderful event! We've had a lot of great success and it's so nice to see our community growing closer.
That being said, we have had some trouble with some participants not completing the exchange after recieving their gifts. This is a heartbreaking occurrence, and we're doing everything we can to make things right.
Please, if for some reason life gets in the way of your making these deadlines, let us know. We understand that things happen, but becoming non responsive is not the way to go.
In the future, if we do another event like this, we may have to decline sign ups from folks that received an exchange but did not give anything back.
Thank you for your understanding on this. We want everyone to feel loved and appreciated, especially in community building events like this. If you're only in it for yourself, then you're not in it for the community, and that's the heart of what we're doing here.
Cheers,
Sev 💙💙
PS: If you’d like to write for one of the people that didn’t receive their fic, please DM me. It could be a nice Life Day treat for someone 🥰
Summary: Broadside was literally built to withstand risk and danger. He’s willing to take the chance this will all end badly. But that was back when the only one at risk was him. How can he face that same danger knowing it’ll roll over onto you now?
Warnings: Angst/comfort, the realities of loving a soldier, slight nod to intimacy but think like PG-13 rating. Lots of longing, but it's got a happy ending.
A/N: Goodness, I had this drafted out so long ago but real life and brain pain made this take forever. I’m terribly sorry @sunshinesdaydream for the slight delay, but here is your Broadside fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange! I had a lot of fun researching Broadside, Shadow Squadron, their planes and getting to dive into a starfighter’s mentality. I hope you like what I did with his personality since there isn’t too much in canon to go off of, other than his limited screen time showed me a very confident man. And what’s better than a fic about a man in crisis with himself?
Also, submitting this as an entrance for my clone bingo card, the “Hope” square. 😊
Inspiration song, The Word of My Body from Spring Awakening: “Oh, I’m gonna bruise you. Oh, you’re gonna be my bruise.”
dividers by @saradika
It wasn’t fair. To either of you, but he understood the risk and was willing to face it. He knew what could come next and didn’t care if it meant one more chance.
But you …
You put up a great front. It took him too many rotations to see the softness under your steel. Weeks of finding reasons to fuel up at the café you worked at before he was shipped off just to tease you and get under your skin. It was a challenge that gave him a little lightness to his step before he and his brothers were back in the heat of battle, the memory of a cheeky smile on pretty lips settling his battle-tossed nerves.
Eventually, the face behind the smile was the thought that gave him comfort. But he’d never say it. He could keep you at an arm’s length and still get his fix as long as he didn’t cross that line.
And you never backed down from this game you couldn’t have known you were playing, giving as good as you got but never with cruelty. Your responses had even gotten downright flirtatious recently, a taste of normal that he couldn’t resist.
Until the last time.
Right after the Battle of Coruscant. Broadside had been flying high even with his feet solidly on the ground. Shadow Squadron had taken impressively minimal damage as each trooper flew beside General Skywalker bravely and proved integral to the safe retrieval of the Chancellor.
He’d opened the door to your café with a swagger that would make even his General blush, ready to leverage his status as planetary savior for a free slice of meilroon pie.
But instead of the sweetness he was expecting, the salt of your tears was all he could taste for hours after. The relief couldn’t erase the deep worry lines on your face at the sight of him, and while Broadside wasn’t above imagining what you’d feel like in his arms, the reality of your half-choked sobs racking your form as it melded to his when you pushed into him and held him like he would float away weighed on his heart.
“They were showing the dogfights over the holonet. I saw … there were so many … I didn’t know if …”
The realization hit him like a proton canon blast: He had become someone important to you. You felt the same way about him as he did you.
And ever since, elation and dread warred within him.
Since the Battle of Coruscant, Shadow Squadron had been requested to handle more escort missions for the Chancellor, meaning more time on Triple Zero.
More time with you.
But proximity to the Chancellor and by extension the Corrie Guard meant no room for deviation from the regs … including the one about not fraternizing with spunky natborns who’d be brought to tears at the thought of a trooper in danger.
A specific trooper. Him.
A gorgeous soul who kept him on his toes, challenging every truth he thought he knew. Who’d started saving a serving of his favorite meals when they were on special without knowing if he’d be coming in that day. Who’d throw an extra serving in for a customer going through a bad day but feigned ignorance when questioned. Who fought off the thugs and lowlifes that’d crawl in from the lower levels with a broken broom without an ounce of fear but shattered at the sight of his Squadron in danger overhead.
He was going to hurt you.
Maybe, just a little, he understood why the Jedi didn’t allow attachments. Because more and more, Broadside could feel the craving to see you again rise and overshadow the knowledge of just how thoroughly he’ll ruin you.
***
“Is this where you’re gonna murder me?”
Broadside threw an exasperated look over his shoulder. “Why would I drag you all the way here just to murder you?”
You cocked an eyebrow as your head swiveled to take in the narrow, at to be fair rather dingy, ally he was leading you through. “To throw the cops of your trail, duh. It’s like you don’t even listen to those crime holos I send you.”
He heard the smile in your voice and felt its match stretch on his own lips at your macabre humor.
“Those are all full of fluff anyway. It’s all nonsense.”
“No, they’re-”
“Shush.” He turned back and continued leading you on. “We’re almost there.”
“Would be great to know where ‘there’ is. Or what’s gonna happen there.”
Despite your grumbling, Broadside could feel your grip tighten around his hand. All at once, your simple show of trust filled his chest and brought him to his knees.
He didn’t deserve it. But he hoped he’d earn it.
Reaching a nondescript door — one of many to line the ally — Broadside stopped in the entranceway, pulling you over to face him.
“You already know the answer, mesh’la. You came up with this idea.”
Confusion covered your face with an aching cuteness. He could see the wheels turning inside, your eyes giving everything away as you searched for an answer.
“Closing time ... I was helping you sweep ... You asked what civvie experience I wanted to have …”
Your eyes sharpened in a playful glare. “And you said, ‘working in a diner’ just to be an ass.”
He leaned in close, towering over you and invading your space just to rile you more. He couldn’t help it. Broadside was addicted to that spark and needed it, needed you, like a hit of spice. “Not just to be an ass. But that’s not the important part. What came next?”
“You … You asked me what I’d want to do …”
Your eyes were wide as moons when you looked back up at him, disbelief filling every inch of your expression. “No …”
“Yup.” He confirmed, entering the access code and opening the door to reveal the back entrance to the hanger where Shadow Squadrons brand-new Y-wings were lined up all nice and pretty.
This time, he didn’t take your hand. Broadside strode through the hanger like he owned it, confidence grounding every step and growing at the sound of your quick footsteps franticly trying to keep up with his.
“Broadside!” You hissed quietly, earning a rich laugh at your idea of stealth. “This can’t be allowed. We’re gonna get caught!”
He stopped next to his new ship, ladder at its side at the ready. “You know, I’m actually insulted. You think I haven’t thought this through.” Turning, Broadside gestures broadly at the hanger. “See? No one around. Maintenance has been reassigned and my squad is grounded right now.”
Your eyes followed his across the cavernous room and you nodded in agreement. But your lip was still caught between your teeth, a telltale sign.
Letting the levity slip away, Broadside brought his hands up to cup your face and pull your gaze to his. Once again, he invaded your space but this time, all teasing was gone. “No one will know we’re here. I’ve got you.”
You gave him that look again. The same one as that day, the one that screamed to him just how unsure you really were underneath all your strength and bluster. The one that broke his heart with how much he wanted to erase it from your face. The same one that told him, just maybe, that you knew how tenuous this all really was.
And then you stepped closer.
You turned to reach for the ladder, stopping to look at him one more time. He gave you an affirmative nod, fighting every cell that cried out to shatter in relief. Maybe this would go better for you both than he thought.
Following closely, he climbed up the ladder after you, settling behind you in the cockpit.
It was a tight fit, only being designed for one person at a time. Broadside struggled for a moment, trying to get his legs to fit around yours in the narrow space until you took matters into your own hands. A touch was all it took to get him to sit still, your hand holding down firmly on his thigh.
The look you sent him over your shoulder is so soft, Broadside wanted to preserve it somehow. To freeze time so you’d always look at him just like that. To make a galaxy where you’d have no reason to ever look at him any other way.
“May I?” Your voice was steady, but barely a whisper.
“Yeah,” he rasped back.
Lifting yourself up, you moved your legs to straddle his before resting yourself on his lap.
“Sorry, but I think this may be the most comfortable configuration.”
Broadside reached around you to start the operating procedures, reveling in the feel of you so close. It was a mockery of an embrace, but it was enough for now.
“No need to apologize, angel. We’re all good here.”
Once all systems were engaged and optimized, he pressed his comm. “Shadow One to Tower. All systems go, here. Ready for clearance.”
You spun in your seat to level him with an intense glare. “No one will know we’re here?”
And Broadside couldn’t resist stoking your fire, sticking out his tongue like a cadet just to revel in how riled you got. “No one who will say anything. Corkscrew is on tower watch tonight and he owes me a favor or three.”
“Tower to Shadow One. Request for test flight confirmed. You are clear for launch. You have 30 minutes.”
“See? Just a standard test flight for the new fighters,” he said smugly.
With that, Broadside went through the launch procedure without a second thought, focusing instead on every way you shifted on his lap, how your hands fumbled for purchase on the sides of the ship before gripping hard on his knees. His hand curled around your hip, holding you in place for all the good it did. The turbulence had you shaking against him and by the Maker if that friction wasn’t the most sensational thing in the entire galaxy.
But everything settled when they broke the atmosphere, the stillness and quiet covering them and isolating them from the chaos of the city planet below.
He watched with delight as your head moved on a swivel, turning back and forth to take in the vast array of stars in front of you.
“It’s beautiful,” you breathed.
“Yeah, it is.” Broadside’s response was just as quiet as he took in your awe before adding louder, “But we didn’t come up here just to look at it.”
“No?”
Before you could do anything else, he grabbed your hands. Without asking, he brought them to the steering column, molding his over yours. “No. You’re gonna fly.”
He could see the broad, devious grin overtake your face in the reflection of the transparisteel and for the briefest moment, Broadside second-guessed whether this was a good idea.
Worry quickly gave way as he lost himself fully in the joy you exuded. Playful cheers filled the small Y-wing cockpit as he instructed you through a few of his simpler maneuvers. Eventually, he began taking a bit more control, showing off with several rolls and drops all in hopes of earning just one more delightful shout, one more squeeze of your thighs around his. All while his hand kept you in place on his lap.
Leveling out after his latest round of showing off, you leaned back against him fully, losing all tension in your body to rest soundly against his chest.
“So, what brought this on?”
His pause is palpable, creating a stillness that could rival space itself. He knew it would happen eventually. But he hated that it could ruin everything.
“I … I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit you next.”
His eyes were trained onto every inch of your body, so he saw the moment your shoulders tensed.
“I see. Even though I know Shadow Squadron has been assigned to escort the Chancellor from now on.”
Broadside took a breath, preparing for his practiced spiel, but you wouldn’t give him the chance. “Oh, yes. Don’t think I don’t follow the news. I do. Of course I do, because how else would I know where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay. You don’t tell me these things when you visit. I have to piece together rumors and suspicions. So I know you’ll be around more. But sure, tell me the lie. Tell me you won’t be able to see me. I’ve been dumb enough flirt with you. To start feeling …”
Your voice tapered off. He couldn’t see your reflection anymore, your face cast downward, but he could see how tightly you were holding yourself.
“Maybe I’ll be dumb enough to believe the lie,” you whispered.
He reached forward, snaking his other arm around to encircle your waist and pull you impossibly closer. Like a child clutching a soft toy, he curled around you in the cocoon of the cockpit.
It must have hurt. His armor was hard and unyielding. He could imagine all the ways it dug in to your pliant skin, how your curves arched around its firm plains.
Even his embrace was painful to you.
And yet you didn’t fight. You didn’t pull away or even adjust yourself. No, you pushed yourself closer, folding yourself in to fit into him like a missing piece.
“It’s not a lie,” he whispered, hoping for all the galaxy that you heard his promise. “It’s not safe.”
“For who?”
“For both of us.”
The silence lingered, and he knew you understood. If you really had been following the war, if you’ve been slicing through the holonet for information, then you had known the truth of his words for a while.
Shifting your hips, you turned in his hold, folding your legs under you to sit sideways on his lap. You didn’t look at him, though. Instead, you tucked your head under his chin, staying as close as possible. “Is that why you brought me up here? Show me the stars so I have something pretty to look at when you tell me it’s over?”
His grip tightened. “No.”
“Then why?”
He brought his hand up to cup the back of your head. He needed you as close as possible. “Because I can’t say it’s over. I want to. But I can’t. I will knowingly put you in danger just to see you again, to hear you again.”
He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. His first kiss has the aftertaste of salt and bitterness, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Bringing you to see the stars like you always wanted is the least I can do. I’ll give you anything within my power ’cause I’m taking so much more.”
You wriggled in his grasp, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. Your cheeks were stained with tears he didn’t even hear begin to fall. Instinctively, he brought his thumb to swipe it away, but your hand stopped him.
“You’re not taking anything, dumbass. I’m giving it willingly.”
Broadside’s eyes close as relief surged through his body. He relaxed even more at the feel of your forehead pressed against his.
“I don’t care about the danger. And take as much time as you need to make things as safe as possible. But you’re not the only one who can’t call quits, so don’t act like you’re carrying the burden alone.”
He couldn’t help the smile that spread easy as sin across his lips at your declaration. Knowing that you were as far gone as he was. Now that he had your knowing consent, that you could handle all that came with being together, there was nothing holding him back.
“So, I don’t have to plan such extravagant dates?”
You let out a peel of laughter in response, your delight breaking the last remnant of grief. “Oh, you absolutely have to try and top this next time. I’ll accept nothing less.”
Fueled by hope and the fire of his wanting, Broadside pressed his lips to yours, tasting starlight and a hint of the blumfruit juice you had earlier.
“I’ve created a monster,” he murmured into the kiss.
“Indeed, you have.”
Your smile against his lips is all the reassurance he needed to not care.
You can find the rest of my fics on my Masterlist here. And you can sign up for my taglist to be alerted to any new fics here.
I apologize for being so totally late with this, but I hope my bestie, @multi-fan-dom-madness enjoys this gift written with love!
Summary: Your love of flowers and your clumsiness leave you and Sister under the influence of a powerful aphrodisiac, and it's just the excuse you need to fall into each other.
Inspired by the song: Constellations by Jade LeMac
Pairing: Clone Trooper Sister x GN!Reader
Rating: E - MINORS DNI
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: Sex pollen, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, mutual pining, implied thigh riding towards the end
A/N: Sister is a transfem clone, and I hope that I handled her with the care and respect she deserves. Writing this under the assumption that she was able to receive gender affirming care and surgery. Header by me, and dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit
Sister always enjoyed scouting duty. It gave her a chance to stretch her legs, clear her head, and enjoy time with nature. Real nature. Not that Kamino’s endless ocean wasn’t nature. It just wasn’t the kind you could relax in. Not like the forest your squad found itself in now.
It was properly lush, and Sister couldn’t help but smile as she watched you surreptitiously gathering flowers. The rest of the squad was equally enamored with the bright blossoms, and lush foliage. Brightly colored insects flitted across the path, occasionally landing atop their helmets, or resting on the tips of their blasters.
She’d been excited when you volunteered to join them, as the two of you had been spending more and more time together, and you always left her craving more. This scouting mission meant time away from most prying eyes with the exception of Dice and Torch, but the twins were too busy looking for trouble to get into to worry about you and Sister.
You’d stepped off the beaten path intent on reaching a softly glowing bloom to add to your bouquet.
“Not too far, mesh’la,” Sister called, pausing to watch you pick your way through the undergrowth.
“I just wanna grab those, and then I’ll be right back,” you replied, singularly focused on your target. “Go on, I’ll catch up.”
Sister opened her mouth to protest when the comm crackled to life, and a couple of the others reported in from farther ahead. She turned her head towards them, distracted just long enough for your foot to find unstable ground, and send you tumbling down the steep embankment.
“Kark!” Sister hissed, as she rushed towards where she’d last seen you.
Gazing down the embankment, Sister’s sharp eyes caught sight of you immediately. Far more gracefully than your own descent, Sister made her way to your side.
Kneeling down next to you, her brow furrowed. “Are you ok? Anything broken?”
“Just my pride,” you wheezed out before sitting up.
You frowned when you realized the flowers you’d picked had been destroyed in the fall, including the glowing blue one you’d been trying to get. Several of its thick soft petals were now sticking to you, along with a thick band of magenta pollen across your nose and cheeks, if your reflection in Sister’s visor was to be believed.
Sister grinned behind her bucket, grateful you couldn’t see the fully enamored look on her face. You looked adorable. A flower goddess in tactical gear.
She straightened up and held out a hand to get you back on your feet.
“Thanks,” you said sheepishly just before you sneezed softly, causing petals to drift away from your face.
Sister brushed her fingers over your nose and cheeks attempting to move the sticky pollen, but most of it stayed put like glowing freckles while some clung to her gloved hand.
“Let’s get back to the others, yeah?” She asked, resting a gentle hand against your lower back to guide you back up to the main pathway.
Your heart jumped at the intimate gesture, sparking an internal debate over whether it could mean more, or if she was just making sure your clumsy ass didn’t go tumbling back down. Ultimately, you decided it didn’t matter because it just felt so good for her to touch you, to be close to you.
As you reached the main road again and continued on after the rest of the team, you found yourself upset at the loss of contact. You shifted to walk closer to her, relaxing slightly as her arm brushed yours.
But it wasn’t enough.
Heat bloomed under your skin, as she continued to brush against you with every step. Unbidden your mind conjured images of her sliding her hands over your thighs to reveal your glistening sex to her. You shook your head to clear it, but more lewd images took its place.
Sister’s muscular thigh pressed up against your core.
Your lips trailing down her throat.
Her tongue circling one of your nipples.
Your fingers buried in her thick, soft curls.
You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. The thoughts weren’t new, but they usually didn’t push their way into your mind so forcefully. They were polite and arrived upon request when you were all alone and looking for a release.
“Are you ok, cyar’ika?” Sister asked, stopping and catching you by the elbow, so she could get a look at you.
“Yeah, just…tired. A little sore from the fall. Nothing a good rest won’t fix!”
Sister tilted her head at you, the attitude was clear even with the bucket shielding her face, and you offered her a little grin, and a half shrug.
“You’ll tell me if that changes, yeah?” She asked, her thumb rubbing absently over your arm as she held you in place.
You nodded, not trusting your voice. It was just your elbow. It shouldn’t have made your heart race that she was touching it, but it did. It shouldn’t have made you want to whimper, but it did.
Halfway to the campsite you were so wound up and overheated, you could feel the sweat pooling at your lower back. You wanted nothing more than an ice bath and your vibrator. You weren’t picky about which order you got them in either.
By the time you made it to the campsite, you were burning up. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on your skin, and the ache between your legs was unbearable. You were leaning on Sister for support, and whining softly.
“You said you’d tell me if things changed,” Sister scolded, as she helped you into your tent.
You would have had a smart retort, but you were so thrilled she was touching you, you kept it to yourself. Without waiting to be alone, you started stripping down, fighting with your body glove, as it stuck to your damp skin.
“You’re the doctor here, what’s the diagnosis?” she asked, as she reached out to help you undress amidst the noises of frustrations emitting from you.
“I don’t know. I felt fine all day, but now I just,” you hesitated, as the day played out in your mind. You moved on auto pilot, getting down on your knees and digging in your pack for your vibrator.
Sex pollen was a myth, or so you thought, but it was the only explanation for the way you’d been fine one minute, and painfully aroused and delirious the next. You were too embarrassed to explain what was going on with you to Sister. What if she thought it was just a weird ploy to get in her armor?
She was so close though. Warm, and reassuring. Gorgeous and loving.
In your distraction, you’d missed Sister pulling off her bucket, and reaching up to rub her nose, as she knelt close to you.
“Sister, you shouldn’t-!” You reached for her forearm, but it was too late, the trooper had already rubbed her nose with the pollen covered glove.
She dropped her arm, nose scrunched, as she met your feverish gaze.
“Why?”
You groaned in embarrassment, “Because the pollen of that plant is an aphrodisiac. That’s why I’m-” You gestured to your vibrator, as you whipped it out of your pack. “I’ll be masturbating until the charge runs out…”
“I’m sure it’ll be ok, cyar’ika,” She said, leaning forward to cup your cheek, and doing her best to ignore the sight of your vibrator, and the thought of you using it.. “Fett genes and all. I’m more worried about you. What can I do?”
“Oh…well,” you paused. You knew what you wanted to ask her. You wanted to ask her to stay close, to watch, to touch.
“I could stay,” she offered. “Just to make sure your temp doesn’t spike, ya know? I can turn around.”
“No!” You blurted out, before slapping a hand over your mouth.
Sister carefully tugged your hand away from your face, as she said, “It’s ok, you can tell me.”
“I want you to watch,” you said after a long moment.
Sister felt a current sparking beneath her skin. Her eyes trailed over your naked form, and she bit her bottom lip. Arousal curled around her core, spiraling outward to set fire to every nerve ending in her body. She began to wonder if she’d spoken too highly of those Fett genes.
She pulled her gloves off, and reached forward to cup the back of your head, as she smiled.
“Could I do more than watch?”
As if that’s what your desire-addled brain needed to hear, you dropped your toy and cupped her face with your hands, pressing your lips to hers. Your eyes slipped closed, and you almost felt relieved as her arms wrapped around your waist and tugged you close. The plastoid of her armor soothed your heated skin, but you needed more. With a lusty sigh, her lips parted, and your tongue slipped into her mouth, finally answering your question about how her kisses would taste.
They tasted like you’d never get enough of her, like falling down that hill was the best thing you could’ve done, like you hated yourself for waiting so long to make your move.
She was all you’d been craving for weeks, and the feeling of her hands, finally bare, trailing over your hips, one cupping your ass, while the other traveled up your back to pull you flush against her was almost too much.
And still you craved more.
“I’m so sorry. I just…I need you,” you panted out, as your fingers fought with Sister’s armor. “Need to feel you.”
Sister was torn between helping you get her out of her armor, and getting her hands on every inch of you.
“Kriff,” she swore, as she reluctantly released you to shed her armor in record time. The pieces scattered unceremoniously on the floor.
You were on her instantly. Your fingers gripped the waistband of her blacks and began working them off of her hips and over her muscular thighs, which you couldn’t resist biting. The most obscene sound left you, muffled only by her flesh.
She tugged her top off, and reached down to cup the back of your head. You looked up at her, clenching around nothing at her bright brown eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.
Without breaking eye contact, you trailed your tongue up her thigh, one hand slid up the back of one of her legs to her ass. You kneaded the firm flesh, as your breath fanned over her cunt.
“Lie down, mesh’la,” you said, your voice soft and needy.
Sister pulled away from you to grab her sleeping bag and bring it close to yours, and you took the opportunity to retrieve your vibrator.
“But your fever,” she countered even as she laid out on the sleeping bag. Knees bent, feet planted, thighs parted to present herself to you.
“Fuck my fever. You look. So. Delicious,” you whined, irritated that you were wound too tightly to savor her.
You really hoped Dice and Torch didn’t waltz into your tent because they would get a nice view of your vibrator sliding through your folds, as you buried your face in Sister’s pussy.
You swirled your tongue around her entrance gathering her taste on your tongue, before you worked up to her clit. Your free hand held the outside of her thigh, fingers digging into the muscle, as you licked and sucked at her cunt like you’d been dying to do for weeks.
Sister was on cloud nine, looking down to meet your heavy lidded gaze between her thighs was the most beautiful sight. Her hips bucked against your face, as you drove her closer and closer to her climax. She reached down to gently rub her fingertips against your scalp. The quiet buzz of your vibrator and the slight movements of your arm made her eager to come, so she could see your pleasure up close.
“Cyar’ika,” she groaned. “Need to taste you. Want you to ride my face.”
You mewled against her, as you worked the vibrator against your clit faster. It felt so good, but it wasn’t getting you there like it normally did.
“Sister, please,” you begged desperately. “Need to make you cum first.”
Sister tumbled into the abyss of pleasure, whimpering your name, as you licked her through her orgasm. Her thighs were still shaking when she looked down to see your lips shining with her juices, and she nearly came again at the sight.
“So fucking pretty,” she sighed, her tone intimate and inviting. “Let me taste you. Wanna see how wet you are.”
She didn’t need to ask you twice. You switched off the vibrator and set it to the side before kissing and biting your way up her body. Your teeth left marks on her thighs and hips, your tongue trailed languidly over the planes of her stomach, and you sucked and licked at her nipples.
She writhed beneath you, running her hands over your body as you brought the object of her desire closer and closer.
“Sorry, mesh’la,” she panted, sitting up and sliding her hands beneath you to grip your thighs and haul you up to her face. “Sit.”
On a normal night, hearing that from her would have been enough, but with the aphrodisiac still running rampant through your body you could only obey and lower your cunt to her lips.
She flattened her tongue to lick from your entrance to your clit, and you rolled your hips, as you cried out. Waves of pleasure washed over you with every movement of her tongue, and you buried your fingers in her thick curls and rode her face like you’d die if your hips ceased their movement.
Sister moaned into your pussy, as she devoured you like her last meal. One of her hands dug into your thigh to keep you close, while the other reached up to pinch and roll your nipple between her dexterous fingers.
“Sister!” You nearly screamed, as your back arched, and your body shook with the force of your orgasm.
The intensity whited out your vision for a moment, but Sister didn’t stop. She maneuvered you onto your back, and pressed two fingers inside your fluttering walls, crooking her fingers to find that sensitive place inside you.
“Too much,” you whimpered, even as your hips bucked against her hand.
“One more, cyar’ika,” she begged, her free hand moving between her legs to bring herself to another orgasm while she pulled yours out of you. “For me? Let me feel your perfect cunt around my fingers.”
“Anything,” you answered breathlessly. “Anything and everything for you.”
“You’re always so good for me,” she purred, leaning down to capture one of your stiff peaks between her teeth gently before soothing over it with her tongue.
Your second climax hit you harder than your first. Your pleasure wrapped around you, and gripped you tightly before slowly releasing you. You collapsed beneath Sister, whose second orgasm followed closely on the heels of yours.
She leaned down to take your lips, as she worked through it. Her lips moved against yours with a hunger only you could understand, and only you could satisfy. She lay next to you, chest heaving, as she gasped for breath.
“How are you feeling?” She asked between gulps of air.
“Better, but-” you hesitated, but you couldn’t keep the words in your mouth. “I think I want…think I need more.”
“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” She asked moving over you again, and slotting her thigh between your legs, pressing it firmly against your core.
“For you? Always.” You replied, as you reached up to pull her down for another kiss.
It would be another 2 hours before the aphrodisiac was fully out of your systems, but after a nap curled around each other, you both decided to enjoy one another again just to be sure.
Warnings: Descriptions of battle, explosions, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of injury and blood, Kissing and some suggestive language.
Summary: You're stubborn and self sufficient but when you get injured Niner insists on making sure you're taken care of properly. Over a series of dangerous missions, you and Niner become closer hitting a breaking point when you defy direct orders to save him.
You wince as pain shoots up your leg, you suck in a pained breath as you step quickly but gingerly towards your quarters. You were sure you’d been successful at avoiding the eyes of your squad mates and hiding your pained hobble when you entered your quarters.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Kriff. “Sir– Did you need something?”
Niner takes a few long strides towards you, standing before you with a disapproving look in his eyes. He glances pointedly at your injured side.
You huff, “I’m fine.”
He reaches down and presses a hand into your side. You fail to bite back a yelp as sharp pain shoots down your side. Niner crosses his arms and stares at you, expression deadpan, “Yes. You’re completely fine. My mistake.” He holds your gaze, waiting for you to break but you’re too determined and stubborn to be reasonable right now. He growls out a low, “Sit.”
You cross your arms over your chest, feeling audacious and petulant, “Is that an order, sir?”
“That depends on you. And I assure you it will be better for you if it isn’t.”
You sit on the edge of your bed, taking the hit to your pride with all the elegance of a pouting child, and you groan as the sharp, shooting pain is renewed.
“Niner…” You try to placate his worry but the words sound unconvincing even to yourself, “It’s not that bad. A little bacta, a little rest, and I’ll be right as rain. There’s no need to make a fuss.”
He kneels down, gently adjusting your position to get a better view of the injury. He pauses a moment. “You got a problem with asking for help, burc'ya?”
“–I can handle it.”
“I don’t doubt you can manage, stubborn thing that you are, but the point is that you don’t have to.” When you’re silent once again, he continues, “You have two choices: You can allow me to take a look at this and patch you up right now or I can call Fi in here to sedate you and take you over to the Med-station.”
You mumble a few curses under your breath, but you shake your head, “Fine.”
Niner nods and assists you in removing sections of your armor, revealing the impressive gash that had been a result of one unfortunately close explosion. Heavy bits of shrapnel had pinned and crushed your plasteel shin plates through your under suit and into your thigh. The wound had only deepened as it was left untreated through the remainder of the mission.
He proceeds to gently clean the wound, apply the bacta and wrap the wound firmly. All the while he gives you the silent treatment, his brows furrowed and there is a tense weight hovering over you both.
You wait with bated breath for the reprimand you are certain is coming. You’re a liability. You’re stubborn. You lack trust in your squad. If you had just been honest, it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. If you had just paid more attention to your surroundings, you wouldn’t have gotten injured in the first place. You left yourself vulnerable.
But the reprimand never comes. Niner finishes patching you up, then sighs and you could swear you heard him whisper your name ever so softly. He stands up to hover over you, eyes darting over your face, seemingly searching for something.
“In the future, when you are injured I expect you to be honest. Report to me or Fi immediately for medical care. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are not made less because you need help. You are part of this squad– You’re no use to me dead. Speak up next time.” With that, Niner exits your quarters, leaving you with a peculiar feeling of warmth and questions you dared not ask.
The Separatist base shook with another explosion, this one much closer than the last, and debris flew down the corridor behind you. You raced after Darman and Atin with the others, everyone limping, bruised and battered from one too many close calls, but were spurred on by the imminent destruction of the Separatist base.
“Now that you’re done rearranging the architecture, Darman– Give me a sitrep.”
“Got some heat on our shebs, but we’re upright and breathing, Sarge.”
“Get to the extraction point–” the next words were cut out with static, “we’re done here.”
“On our way, sir.”
The squad moves in tandem, eyes darting in every direction and blaster bolts flying to take out the pursuing droid forces. The terrain is rocky, cliffs high on either side dropping loose rocks over your heads. Once both teams neared the extraction point, a clearing surrounded by various rock formations, the droids redoubled their efforts, pulling out higher grade explosives and plasma rockets. Blaster bolts fly in all directions and explosions litter the area behind you, “Things are getting shaky, Sarge!” You shout over comms as you run.
Niner’s voice crackles back in response, “Double-time it, then! Get your shebs to the extraction point!”
Soon after, Niner and the rest of the squad come into view guarding the perimeter, he motions to you directing everyone past him. “Go! I’m right behind you!”
You run, glancing quickly behind you watching as Niner goes to follow after you. Just then a sniper-droid’s shot lands, piercing into a weak point in his armor and causing him to double over. You stop in your tracks and another explosion shakes the ground, followed by the cracking, crumbling sound of falling rocks. You don’t hesitate, ignoring Niner’s order to run, instead you engage the energy shield on your vambrace to its highest setting and run, tackling Niner to the ground, pushing him out of the path of the falling rocks. It works, to a point. You are both out of the direct path of the rocks and don’t get hit directly, but land in a small depression in the ground. The rocks collapse all around you, closing in over top of you leaving little room, and little air. The only thing keeping you from being crushed, is your energy shield. You know it isn’t designed to withstand this level of weight and pressure, so it won’t last forever. You hold your position, angled over Niner, with your arm positioned above you, shield active, with the pressure of tons of rock slowly crushing you.
“I told you to run.”
“That was before you got shot and nearly flattened by rocks. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“You disobeyed a direct order.”
“Mission parameters changed. Happens all the time.”
“It was reckless and stupid. You and the rest of the squad would be off planet right now if you’d followed orders.”
“You really think we would’ve left here without you?” You pause, the shock of realization running through you, “Oh– You do. Niner–Sir, our squad is nothing without you. At least, I know I wouldn't be here if it weren’t for you.”
“Heh– You’ve always been too hard on yourself. I’m not the reason you’ve come this far. That’s all you. But if we get out of this– Follow my kriffing orders.”
“Yes, sir…" You roll your eyes and sigh, "Now you should rest, we don’t know how long we’ll be in here and I’d rather not die by suffocation.”
The medbay is bright white and sterile, with constant sounds of monitors beeping, medical droids speaking in their robotic tones, and GAR Medics attending to their myriad of patients. You were laid up in your medical bed, forced to submit to periodical scannings and medical applications as you recovered from your mission. Niner had been cleared only a few days prior, as you had taken the brunt of the damage holding up the crushing weight of rocks that closed you and Niner in. You did not remember how long you’d been stuck there, only the blinding light as your Squad dug you from the rubble and the blessed bliss of darkness as you finally succumbed to exhaustion.
“You’re actually in the Medbay, and I didn’t even have to threaten to sedate you.” Niner leaned against the wall across from your bed, offering you a slight smirk.
You huffed a laugh followed by a wince at the sharp pain it caused, “What can I say, you’re pretty convincing when I’m exhausted and can’t think straight.”
“So getting you exhausted is the key to getting you to actually take care of yourself?” He chuckled, a warm, low rumble that you never tired of hearing.
Your eyes widen and you choke out, “That’s certainly one way…”
A few moments of silence followed, an interesting electric tension hovering between you, and Niner crosses the room to pull up a stool and sit next to your bed. His face softens in a way you’ve rarely seen as he speaks, “You scared me for a while. I wasn’t sure you’d make it–”
“I did make it though. Besides, you would’ve been fine without me.”
“No.” He shakes his head and looks down at the floor, “No I don’t think I would be.”
“I don’t– Niner, I don’t understand.” There was another tense moment before he responds.
“I’ve lost a lot of people, a lot of brothers, and I don’t think I could handle losing you, too.”
“Niner– You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”
“I–I know. So I need you to promise you’ll be more careful, since I can’t count on you to follow orders.” He glances back up at you, a light playful smile on his lips.
You couldn’t help but smile in return, “The situation changed, Niner!” You sigh, he was right, as much as you hated to admit it, “But I will try to be more careful. Promise.”
“See that you do. Rest up. I need you out there.”
He stands up and makes his way to leave but hesitates and turns to regard you once more. He opens his mouth but seems to think better of it, nods, and leaves the medbay.
You made your way to Niner’s quarters, data pad in hand with proof of your medical clearance to return to duty. You stand at attention at the door waiting for the sensor to approve your entrance, clenching and unclenching your hands against the unexpected nerves you feel. It’s Niner! You shouldn’t be nervous. What was wrong with you?
The door opens with a ‘chk’ and you step inside, “Sir?” You wait for Niner to nod before continuing, “I've recovered and I've been cleared for duty.”
He shakes his head– was that disappointment on his face?- “Hmm. I’m not sure I’m ready to let you back out there yet.”
Your brow furrows in confusion and you resist shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, “Niner– Here’s my medical report. I’ve been cleared.” You hold out the data pad to him.
He approaches to stand very close, intimately close, takes the data pad from your hand and places it on his desk without more than a glance. “If you’re going back out there then we need to set something straight.” His hand comes up, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilts your face up.
You suck in a breath, holding it in heated anticipation. Your reply is breathy, “Oh, such as?”
He closes his eyes, as if savoring the moment, “I need you to tell me not to kiss you.”
“What?”
His voice is low, and the gruff rumble hits you in a wave that leaves you shaky, “I've wanted to kiss you since you came barreling into my life. Problem is, if I do, I don't think I'll be able to stop.”
You sigh, leaning into the touch of his hands, one now on your waist, the other still holding your chin firmly in place, “And what if I want you to kiss me?”
The smirk on his face gave you all the answer you needed, “Then who am I to refuse?”
He leans in and captures your mouth with his own, it’s a hungry, needy kiss and your body responds before you can think. You sigh as he pulls you closer, flush against him, and deepens the kiss. You now understand why he hesitated, because now that he was kissing you, finally, desperately kissing you, you never wanted him to stop.
This event has been so wonderful, and I can’t thank y’all enough for participating. Every fic has been incredible, and you’ve all shown so much care and respect towards our rare babes.
I hope everyone found some new favorite clones, and some new favorite writers and friends 🥰
November 23rd, 2023 at 2359 aka 1159pm is the deadline for submissions, so please please please get them in. If for some reason you cannot, please let me know because I do not want anyone to miss out on receiving their fic.
Tagging the last of the authors (myself included) below the cut. If you’ve submitted and I tagged you, let me know 🥰
Summary: Jesse’s number is drawn in a lottery, forcing him to participate in a cross-training event with the 212th, and he’s not happy about it. However, his view of the training mission changes when he crashes into your life, literally.
Tags & Warnings: moody Jesse, vehicular accident, minor injuries, clone jokes, bad puns, shirtless clones, fluff, humor, angst with a happy ending, implied sexy time offscreen, suggestive themes
Word Count: 9.2k
Author's Note: Apologizing now for the word count (my small ideas never stay small), and for the fact that this fic only went through two rounds of editing before posting... This fic was written for @snippy-tano as part of the @rare-clone-fic-exchange. I hope you like it sweetie, and I hope you don’t mind the additional side characters 😘 As always, please enjoy 💚
@clonexreaderbingo Square: Tradition
“You can’t be serious?” Jesse groans with an exaggerated eye roll.
“I am,” Rex answers. “Your number was drawn, so you’re going.”
Jesse grunts. “This program is stupid!”
“This program is tradition,” Rex retorts.
“Can’t you send Fives?” Jesse asks. “He loves this stuff.”
“Fives’ number wasn’t drawn, yours was,” Rex crosses his arms and scowls. “ You’ll just have to learn to love it too.”
“But–”
“That’s an order,” Rex interjects.
Jesse grits his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Rex hands Jesse a data-pad. “Your transport leaves in an hour. I suggest you take that time to adjust your attitude. Cody is a good friend of mine and I don’t need you giving him grief.”
Jesse takes the data-pad. “Yes, sir.”
Rex turns to leave and Jesse is left in the cargo bay alone. He sighs as he sits down on a crate to review his new orders. Every month, the battalions swap a few clones in the name of “cross-training”. The clones are picked at random via lottery, and unfortunately for Jesse, his number was drawn this month. Out of the millions of clones, why did it have to be him? It’s not that he’s opposed to cross-training, but he shouldn’t be forced to leave his own battalion to do it.
Jesse swipes through the data-pad and skims over the details. He’s been assigned cross-training with the 212th attack battalion, specifically their ARF unit. He scoffs. The 501st has an ARF unit, and a darn good one. There’s no reason for him to be shipped off-world to play ARF trooper with a different battalion. If the GAR wants to cross-train clones so badly, then he should be able to do it with his own brothers, not with a bunch of clones he doesn’t know.
Jesse sets the data-pad down next to him on the crate and shakes his head. He wants to make Rex proud, but his heart just isn’t in it. Even if meeting a marshal commander does sound interesting, he knows he won’t be working with him exclusively. He’s an ARC, and he wants to do ARC things, and go on ARC missions with Fives and Echo. It's a shame that he’s missing out on their newest assignment. It sounded like a wild ride, and he was looking forward to it.
The intercom speaker interrupts Jesse’s thoughts to notify him that his transport is boarding and will be departing soon. With a heavy sigh, he hops off the crate, grabs his data-pad, and makes his way to the transport. He straps in and closes his eyes, letting his mind go blank as the transport whirs to life and delivers him to his new temporary post. The time it takes to get there is just under one standard rotation, so he takes this time to try to prepare himself for anything.
The transport lands and as the ramp descends, Jesse raises an arm to shield his eyes from the bright sun and the dust swirling into the transport. He steps down the ramp and observes his new surroundings, which isn’t much to look at. It’s a desert planet with little to no vegetation, and the sun glares down hot onto his plastoid armor. He experimentally grinds his foot into the tan earth beneath him and it shifts like powder until he reaches a layer of rock underneath.
“You must be Jesse,” Cody says on approach.
Jesse looks up to see the commander and straightens himself to attention. “Yes, sir!”
“Welcome to the 212th,” Cody gestures for Jesse to follow him. “I’ve heard good things about you from Rex. He says you’re one of his best.”
Jesse follows next to Cody as they make their way to the command center. “Just doing my duty to the Republic, sir.”
“He also mentioned that you’re not particularly fond of this assignment,” Cody adds.
Jesse grimaces and tries to backpedal. “With all due respect, sir, I only meant that I’d rather not be away from my brothers at the 501st when they might need me.”
“Fair enough,” Cody says. “However, if the survival of the entire battalion rests on you being there at all times, then perhaps Rex should be demoted.”
Jesse scrunches his face with indignation and raises his voice. “Captain Rex is–”
Cody turns on his heels to face Jesse and crosses his arms in a silent word of caution.
Jesse takes a startled half-step back and holds his tongue. “Nevermind, sir,” he stammers with embarrassment.
The rest of the walk to the command center is silent. Jesse kicks himself as he realizes how far he stuck his own foot into his mouth. So far that he’s surprised he hasn’t choked on it yet. He doesn’t want to embarrass Rex, yet here he is picking a fight with a marshal commander. It’s definitely one of the dumber things he’s done in his life. But, when it comes to his captain, Jesse finds it difficult to control his emotions. Their history together is too deep not to defend him.
When they enter the command center, Jesse sees two ARF troopers in camouflage armor with colors matching the tan dust that’s been sticking to him since he arrived. He also sees another trooper in gray and white armor standing next to them. As he gets closer, he can hear them chatting away about something nonsensical. He eyes the three clones and mentally sizes them up; not entirely sure what to make of them yet, but he’ll reserve judgment for now.
“This is Lieutenant Waxer and Boil,” Cody gestures with his hands. “They’re part of our elite ARF unit, Ghost Company, and will be conducting your training for the next few rotations.”
The four clones trade head nods of acknowledgement.
Cody turns to Jesse and the clone with gray armor. “I expect you to address them as you would a commanding officer, with respect. Follow their orders and do what they ask of you.”
“Yes, sir!” Jesse and the other clone affirm.
Cody nods. “I’ll leave you to it.”
A moment of silence passes between the four clones as an awkward air blows in.
Waxer is the first to speak up. “Do you guys have names?”
“I’m Jesse,” Jesse answers and stretches out his hand to shake that of the two ARFs. “With the 501st.”
The clone in the gray armor follows suit. “I’m Sinker, with the 104th.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Boil adds.
Another awkward silence passes between the clones and Jesse starts to question the validity of his new assignment. Perhaps this whole thing is a big joke and he can board the next transport off this dust bowl. He absentmindedly grinds his foot into the dusty floor, a habit he picked up somewhere during the war to keep him from running his mouth when he’s bored. If someone doesn’t say something soon, he might, and they probably won’t like what it is.
“Alright, boys,” Waxer says with a gesture of his head towards the door. “We’re heading out to the corral.”
“Corral?” Jesse asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are we learning to ride animals?”
Boil chuckles. “Sort of.”
Jesse looks at Sinker, hoping that he’s on his side about how crazy this whole thing sounds.
Sinker shrugs. “Sounds fun.”
The three clones head out of the command center, leaving Jesse alone in his bewilderment. When his brain catches up to him, he jogs up to the rear and follows them out to the so-called corral. Although, Jesse wouldn’t call it a “corral”. It’s just a barricaded motor pool full of AT-RTs. A part of Jesse is relieved that he doesn’t actually have to ride any animals, but his intuition tells him that whatever they have planned isn’t going to be as easy as he thinks.
Waxer stops in front of the barricade and addresses the squad. “As part of your cross-training in the ARF unit, you’re each going to learn how to ride an AT-RT.”
“Don’t you mean drive?” Jesse interrupts.
“No,” Waxer answers. “An AT-RT isn’t just some machine you can climb on and control. It takes concentration, skill, dexterity, and a mutual understanding between you and the walker. You don’t drive an AT-RT, you ride it.”
Jesse rolls his eyes. There’s a reason he’s an ARC and not an ARF. He doesn’t have the patience for these pansies, talking about a machine as if it’s a living animal. What utter nonsense.
“Shinies don’t even look at an AT-RT until they can show competency riding a living breathing animal,” Boil continues the explanation. “Since both of you are well-established and accomplished soldiers, we figured we could skip the live animal part and see what you’re made of.”
A smirk flashes across Sinker’s face and Jesse realizes he’s alone in his feelings about the training. He grinds his foot against the dusty earth again, feeling way out of his element. ARCs don’t “ride” AT-RTs, they infiltrate enemy lines, perform sabotage, steal secrets, and tip the scales of an assault. His last hope that he might get some in depth reconnaissance training has officially been dashed as Waxer opens the corral and ushers them inside to show them the AT-RTs.
“Do you name them?” Sinker asks as he inspects one of the units.
“Of course!” Waxer exclaims with a proud smile. He pats the side of the unit Sinker is looking at. “This one’s name is Sella. She’s a little glitchy, but she’s seen a lot of combat.”
If Jesse rolled his eyes any harder, they would roll right out of his head.
“Can I ride her?” Sinker asks, his eyes bright.
“Eh, not for your first ride,” Waxer says. “Like I said, she’s a little glitchy.” Waxer moves across the motor pool to another unit and pats the side. “Vala here will be a good starter for you.”
Sinker punches Jesse’s shoulder in excitement and heads over to where Waxer is standing. Jesse rubs his shoulder in mock discomfort, then crosses his arms. He’s still not convinced this is proper ARF training. He wants to be looking at charts and battle strategies, not galivanting around in AT-RTs. There’s nothing useful about this exercise that he can take back to his unit, unless they let him take the AT-RT as a souvenir, which he highly doubts they would.
“How about this one for you?” Boil asks while leaning against another unit. “Her name is Mina and she’s pretty gentle on the new guys.”
Jesse huffs and approaches the AT-RT. “Sure.”
The AT-RT training goes just as well as Waxer and Boil expect. Both Jesse and Sinker fall off their AT-RTs multiple times just on start-up, when the machine initially jerks to life. The breath is knocked out of Jesse’s lungs more times than he can count and he wonders if Kix can order him a replacement set if he ever makes it back to the 501st alive. The only buffer he has is his ARC armor and it’s not enough to prevent the litany of bruises from growing on every part of his body.
By rotations end, Jesse and Sinker manage to stay on their AT-RTs and even take a few steps forward with them. It’s been hard work, but they’re finally seeing the fruits of their labor and Jesse’s ego is just as bruised as his thighs. He gets it now. He understands what they mean by riding an AT-RT instead of driving it. It’s not like a starfighter or an ATTE that he’s driven in simulations. No, these things are like living animals and they need to be respected as such.
At the end of the training session, Jesse doesn’t stop for food at the mess hall. Instead, he hobbles to the medbay for some bacta, then makes his way to the barracks. He gingerly pulls his armor off, each flex of muscle a new sensation of pain. He winces and grunts until it all comes off and he stacks it neatly beside his assigned bunk. He pulls out a ration bar from his pack and settles onto the cot, mindlessly munching away at the bland bar while trying not to move.
Tomorrow, they’re taking the AT-RTs out on a fake reconnaissance mission. He’s not sure who decided that he and Sinker are ready to take the AT-RTs into the field, but he definitely doesn’t feel ready. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to move when he wakes up in the morning, let alone climb onto the back of an AT-RT and ride it out into the middle of who-knows-where. Just the thought of his legs doing that climbing motion again makes his thighs twitch in protest.
The next morning, Jesse wakes when the sun rises and its rays shine into the barracks. He was right, his entire body objects to him moving even one inch off of his cot, but he doesn’t have a choice. He feels like a cadet all over again. Like he just went through a rigorous course of simulations and he needs to go again. Those are days he wishes he didn’t have to remember. He’s much stronger now, and more resilient, but his aching thighs force his recollections.
Jesse swings by the medbay before meeting up with the others at the corral. He begs the medic on duty for anything he can give him to help soothe the pain. He’ll even take a muscle relaxer at this point, even if it makes him drowsy. The medic takes pity on him, tosses him a small bottle of painkillers, and threatens him not to mention it to anybody or he’d be returning to his battalion in a bodybag. That’s a risk Jesse is willing to take. Besides, Kix has threatened him with much worse.
Jesse downs a few of the pills, stuffs the bottle out of sight in one of his belt pouches, and heads to the corral. Everyone else is already there, and he hopes that he isn't too late that they make an issue about it. Luckily, no one mentions his tardiness, but Waxer does have a small grin on his face that makes Jesse suspicious. He wonders how much enjoyment Waxer and Boil get out of torturing their shinies with this training, because clearly they know why he’s late.
Waxer gives the squad a short briefing on their fake mission. He pulls out the data-pad with the map coordinates on it, their rendezvous point, the intel they’re supposed to be acquiring, and any enemy obstacles in their way. This is what Jesse has been after ever since the beginning of the cross-training. He studies everything Waxer shows them, eagerly consuming all of the information and stuffing it away in his brain to use later when he’s back with his own battalion.
After the mission briefing is over, they mount their AT-RTs, Jesse on Mina and Sinker on Vala. Waxer and Boil mount their personal AT-RTs, the ones they’ve been using since they became ARF troopers, and the squad heads out into the desert. Unlike Waxer and Boil, Jesse and Sinker do not have ARF trooper armor. Since the mission is fake, there is no need to outfit them. The squad looks rather odd up close, but from a distance no one can tell they’re mismatched.
The squad spends hours in the desert. The constant back and forth motion on the AT-RT has Jesse convinced he’s also going to need a spine replacement. He wonders how hard it will be to requisition and if there’s a special form he needs to fill out. He tries to pop a few more painkillers but as the AT-RT continues to lunge forward like a jack-rabbit, it makes the task very difficult. In all honesty, he’d rather be dropped out of a LAAT without a jetpack than do this full time.
Around mid-day, Waxer calls over the comms to let the squad know that they’ll be stopping for a break soon. He gives them the coordinates for the only known piece of civilization within ten klicks of their location, and they all head in that direction. Jesse can’t wait. His back, thighs, and butt all thank the Maker that he’s going to be able to rest soon, even if he has to fall off the AT-RT instead of hopping off. At this point, he’s not even sure his arms are still attached to his body.
As they approach their rest-stop, Waxer gives the order for the squad to halt. Waxer, Boil, and Sinker all stop relatively close together, but Jesse keeps going.
“Jesse, halt,” Waxer calls through the comms.
“It won’t stop,” Jesse calls back while pressing every button he can think of to try and stop.
“What do you mean it won’t stop?” Waxer asks as he watches Jesse move further away.
“I mean, it won’t stop!” Jesse yells.
“Hit the emergency brake,” Boil orders into the comms.
“I did,” Jesse answers. He refuses to panic, but the building is getting closer and his AT-RT is not obeying his commands. “I think there’s an electrical malfunction.”
“Great,” Waxer sighs. “Just steer her out of harm's way and we can figure it out.”
“About that…” Jesse pauses. His heart rate increases as the building is looking a lot bigger than it did a few seconds ago. “The steering isn’t responding either.”
“Bail!” Waxer calls as he starts his unit up and rushes over. “Bail, Jesse, bail!”
It’s too late. Jesse braces as his AT-RT crashes into the side of the building.
“Order up for table twelve!” the cook calls from the kitchen as he rings the bell at the end of the order window.
“Coming!” you answer, then rush over to grab the order.
“What’s the hold up?” the cook asks. “Are you daydreaming again?”
“Only everyday I’m stuck working here,” you sing back with a sweet smile.
The cook huffs. “Just make sure the customers are fed. You don’t get paid to daydream.”
“Yes, sir!” you answer with a mock salute as you balance the tray of food on one hand.
You turn around and roll your eyes before walking the food over to table twelve. You’ve been stuck working at this diner for four cycles now with no end in sight. It’s not the worst job you could have, but with the small amount you’re being paid with no raises in the near future, you’ll never be able to afford to go find a new one. It’s an endless cycle of work, work, work, and never any time for yourself or what you want to do. It’s agonizing, but it’s all you have.
The only reason you even have this job is to pay off your parent’s debt. They left you on this barren rock to go on their “galactic tour” and never returned. From what you know, they made a deal with the owner of the diner to ensure you had a place to stay, and in return, when you were old enough, you would work for him to pay off the debt. It’s definitely not the life you would’ve chosen, but it’s the life you have been given, and you should be grateful for even that much.
Your only solace is your best friend Violet. She also works at the diner and hates it as much as you do. The two of you became fast friends when you first started working at the diner and now you spend all of your free time together. Violet also doesn’t have any parents planet-side, so there’s an even deeper connection between the two of you and an unspoken understanding about life. At least you have each other, is what you tell yourself when things get unbearable.
“Tooka got your tongue?” Violet asks as she peers over your shoulder.
“Ah!” you startle. “Where’d you come from?”
“Table eight,” Violet answers. “You had that look in your eye again.”
“What look?” you ask.
“The dreamy and distant one,” Violet answers with a flip of her hair.
You groan. “That obvious, huh?”
“If you were any more obvious, you’d have a neon sign stuck to your forehead,” Violet laughs.
You sigh. “Don’t you want more?”
“More what?” Violet asks.
“I don’t know,” you answer. “More anything.”
Violet thinks for a moment. “Yeah, more sleep and more credits.”
You pout. “Besides that.”
“What else is there?” Violet asks as she picks up another tray of food.
“Oh, you know…” you trail your voice quietly while bussing the table next to hers. “Like love and stuff.”
Violet snorts. “What? Love? Out here? In this dust bowl? You’re nuts.”
“I am not!” you retort. “It could happen.”
“Yeah, sure,” Violet rolls her eyes, “because gorgeous and attractive people just tumble into our diner like it’s a speed-dating site.”
“I–”
*CRASH*
The violent shockwave shakes the diner to its core and knocks both you and Violet off of your feet and flat onto the ground. You instinctively cover your head as pieces of debris and dust fall from the ceiling. The patrons in the diner start screaming and run past you to the diner exit as you lay on the floor, stunned by what just happened. You slowly open your eyes and look over at Violet, making sure she’s okay. She looks dazed, but nods and you both help each other up.
“Kriffing banthas!” you exclaim. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Violet says with a shaky voice, still in shock.
You turn around and see a gaping hole in the side of the diner and your eyes grow wide. A mess of twisted dura-steel, snapped electrical wires, and broken water pipes are poking out in every direction. You’re not sure what to make of it. You tilt your head from side to side trying to figure out what happened until you see a clone trooper’s body laying under some debris. You rush over, climbing through the rubble to get to the trapped man. He’s unconscious, but breathing.
“Violet, help me!” you call back. “He’s trapped!”
Violet climbs up alongside of you and you each grab an arm, tugging with all of your might, but it’s no use, he’s too heavy. You pant at the exertion and look around for anything that you could use for leverage. But before you can make your next move, three more clone troopers burst through the front door of the diner. They look around frantically before meeting your gaze as you wave your hands to try and get their attention. They must be with the clone that’s trapped.
“Over here!” you call out to them. “He’s over here!”
The three clones rush over and replace you and Violet. The two troopers in camouflage lift the debris and the third clone in gray armor pulls the trapped clone out from underneath it. They carry him away from the debris pile and lay him on top of one of the diner tables. The clone in gray armor pulls out a bag with a medic symbol on it and rummages through it. Finding what he’s looking for, he scans over the unconscious clone with the device, then sighs in relief.
“No internal injuries,” the gray clone says. “Looks like he just got knocked out. He’s lucky.”
One of the clones in camouflage shakes his head. “Of all the things to go wrong.”
“At least he’s not dead,” the other clone in camouflage says. “Try explaining that to Commander Cody and Captain Rex.”
The first clone in camouflage visually bristles.
“Um, excuse me,” you interrupt with a slight raise of your hand.
The first clone in camouflage takes his helmet off. “Apologies, I’m Waxer, with the 212th.” He points to the clone next to him. “This is Boil, also with the 212th, and that’s Sinker, with the 104th.” He looks down at the clone on the table. “And that one is Jesse, from the 501st.”
“Pleasure…” you say as you try to take it all in. There’s so many numbers and names, you’re not sure how you’ll keep them all straight.
“Wait, hold on,” Violet interjects, dumbfounded. “Y’all just crashed into our diner and you're exchanging pleasantries like you met at the local market?”
“Correction,” Boil says. “Jesse crashed into your diner.”
Violet’s jaw drops and she turns to you. “Are these guys for real?”
“I assure you ma’am,” Sinker says. “We are, in fact, real clones.”
You start to snicker and Violet throws her hands up in defeat. “You know what, I’ve had enough for one day.” She takes her dusty and torn apron off and tosses it on the ground with the rest of the debris. “I do not get paid enough to deal with clowns!”
“Don’t you mean, clones?” Boil asks.
“I meant what I said!” Violet yells back as she navigates around the debris to the exit.
You try to stifle a laugh, but fail. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just stressed. It’s not every day we get clones crashing into our diner.”
Waxer rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. One of the AT-RTs had a malfunction and Jesse couldn’t get it to stop.”
“I see,” you look down at the clone on the table and knit your brows with worry. You feel bad for him. It must have been scary, being stuck on an uncontrollable collision course and knowing you can’t do anything to stop it from happening. Well, at least for you it would have been scary. You’re not even sure if clones feel fear. It’s not something you’ve ever thought about, until now.
“We’ll fix the wall for you,” Waxer says. “Might take us a couple rotations, but we’ll get it done.”
“The owner will definitely appreciate it,” you smile. You’re not quite sure where the cook went off to, but he must have bailed when the wall was smashed. That coward. He talks a lot about your head being stuck in the clouds, but when things go wrong, you’re the only one keeping a level head.
“Can you stay with him?” Waxer asks. “We need to comm our superiors.”
“Yeah, sure,” you agree, then pull out one of the table chairs to take a seat. You didn’t realize how much your legs were shaking until you were sitting down and relieving them of their duty, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you’re starting to feel exhausted.
You watch Jesse like Waxer asked you too, but to be honest, you’re not sure what you’re supposed to be watching. You look him over from head to toe and take in all of his features. He’s wearing different armor than the other three clones, but it’s not the standard issue clone armor that you see in the news either. You’re not sure what it is. He’s got two thick leather skirt-looking things around his thighs, two holsters, and a big flappy thing across his shoulders.
You shrug and continue your examination. He also has some type of pouch on his chest that looks like it could either hold ammo or snacks. You figure both are important. There’s also an extra chest plate on top of the standard one. Must be for extra protection. You then look at the blue markings that adorn his arms and legs and wonder if they have any meaning. The last thing you look at is his face. There’s a huge GAR tattoo covering one side. Curious, but not bizarre.
You lean over his body to get a better view, when you hear him stir. You quickly remove yourself and wave your hand over his face to try and get him to wake up.
“Hey,” you call. “Wake up, Jesse.”
Jesse groans as he comes to. “Am I dead?”
You chuckle. “No, just got a little knocked around.”
Jesse hisses as he tries to sit up and raises a hand to hold the side of his head. “Ow, my head.”
“It’s gonna hurt a bit,” you say. “That was a nasty crash.”
Jesse closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What crash?”
“You don’t remember?” you ask in concern.
Jesse opens his eyes, and as they finally focus, he sees the mess of twisted dura-steel and a crushed AT-RT within it. His body jolts at the memory. “The building!”
“Whoa!” you put your hands on Jesse’s shoulders to try and get him to calm down. “Easy, Jesse, easy.”
Jesse breathes heavily at the new surge of adrenaline, but settles down. He shoots you a quizzical look. “Who are you and how do you know my name?”
“Oh, right,” you laugh nervously then introduce yourself. “I’m a waitress here and your friends are just outside. They pulled you out of the rubble and told me to watch you.”
Jesse leans his head back against the table and groans. “Rex is going to kill me.”
“Who’s Rex?” you ask to try to keep him talking. Concussions are very serious, and without knowing if he has one, you don’t want him falling unconscious again.
“My captain,” Jesse answers. He drapes an arm over his face. “He’s the one that sent me to this desolate dust bowl.”
You chuckle at his disdain for the planet.
“Oh, sorry,” Jesse apologizes. “I guess this is your home, huh? I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No worries,” you wave off the remark and smile. “I think it’s a dust bowl, too.”
Jesse chuckles.
“I’m sorry about your AT… thing,” you offer, trying to remember the exact acronym.
Jesse laughs. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t mine.”
You snort and then laugh along with him. “You’re funny.”
“And you’re pretty,” Jesse blurts out.
You stop laughing as you process what he said. “You think I’m pretty?”
Jesse’s stomach flips when he realizes his thoughts didn’t stay in his head. “Kriff, did I say that out loud?”
“Uh, yeah,” you answer nervously, your face feeling warm.
“Maker, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Jesse apologizes, the embarrassment written all over his face.
“So, you don’t think I’m pretty?” you ask.
“Uh, no, I mean yes, well, you see,” Jesse stammers, then gives up trying to explain himself. He sighs. “I think my brain got scrambled in the crash.”
You chuckle and pat his arm. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
After your short but awkward conversation with Jesse, the three clones reassemble in the diner to debrief the now awake Jesse. Waxer commed Cody, Boil commed Rex, and Sinker commed Wolffe, although from the sweat on Sinker’s face, you can tell who has the most commanding officer of them all. The consensus is that the GAR will pay for the damages and the four clones will repair the diner wall. None of them seem too thrilled about it, and you don’t blame them.
By the time the excitement has calmed down, and the materials to fix the diner are located, it’s nightfall and you are exhausted. You’re practically dead on your feet, body swaying with your broom while trying to clean up some of the debris on the other end of the diner. You’re the only staff member left to help clean up, so you chose to stay. Of course won’t be paid for any of this, but the faster the diner is back in business, the faster you can start getting paid again.
You dump another dust pan of rubble into the trash receptacle, then plop down onto one of the stools lining the diner counter. You yawn wide and lean your elbow on the counter, propping your face up as you close your eyelids for just a moment to rest. The moment must have lasted longer than you expected, because when you open your eyes again, you wake up in one of the booths with a blanket on top of you and another one folded under your head for use as a pillow.
It’s still dark out, the moonlight beaming in through the large transparisteel panes that line the front of the diner, and you sit up to get your bearings. There’s three clones nestled on the floor, all tangled up together in a mess of armor and limbs. You’re not sure how sleeping like that is comfortable, but more power to them. You realize Jesse is missing, and you pop your head up over the booth to look for him, hoping that he hasn’t wandered off somewhere and gotten lost.
You tiptoe around the sleeping clones, blanket hung around your shoulders to keep the desert chill out, and walk around looking for Jesse. He’s not inside the diner, so you walk outside. You really hope he didn’t leave to relieve himself and you’re about to walk in on something you’re not prepared to see, and luckily you don’t. You circle the entire building and you still can’t find him. Finally, you hear your name being called and you look up to see two legs dangling from the roof.
You shake your head and climb up the side ladder to join Jesse on the roof.
“You should be asleep,” he says, not moving his gaze from the horizon.
“So, should you,” you retort back. “You’re injured.”
“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “Barely even a scratch on me.”
You sit next to him and let your feet hang off the edge. “I was talking about your brain.”
Jesse chuckles. “That’s fine, too.”
“No more accidentally calling me pretty?” you jest.
“Not making any promises on that one,” he smirks.
You smile and fidget with the edges of the blanket. “Did you move me to the booth?”
“Hope you don’t mind,” he answers. “That counter was doing nothing for your back. Probably should’ve asked first.”
“Oh, no,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
Jesse smiles. “You’re welcome, mesh’la.”
You don’t remember falling asleep on the rooftop, but when you awaken feeling like a rolled up burrito with Jesse’s arm draped across your side, the memories start to come back. You must have talked for a while before dozing off, because you feel like you barely got any sleep at all. The blanket wrapped around you is tight and you wiggle to try to get yourself free from it, but as you do, you start to roll away. You panic slightly before feeling Jesse’s firm hand stopping you.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, his voice rough with sleep.
“Thought I’d roll myself to work today,” you answer.
Jesse raises an eyebrow. “How’s that working out for you?”
You wiggle against the restraining blanket. “Ten out of ten would not recommend.”
Jesse snorts and sits up. “I didn’t want you to get cold or fall off the roof.”
“Appreciate it,” you strain out as you wriggle some more. “Please help me.”
Jesse unravels your blanket cocoon and helps you to your feet. You straighten your dirty uniform out and climb down the ladder to get the day started with Jesse trailing behind you. Violet is already inside the diner, chatting with the other three clones. She gives you a knowing look when she sees you walk in with Jesse, but doesn’t say anything. You’re just happy she’s here to help. When she stormed off yesterday, you weren’t sure if she was going to come back.
As the clones start discussing their plan of attack, the two of you decide the best way to start the day is to eat a hearty breakfast. There’s a lot of work to be done and everyone is going to need as much energy as they can get. The cook never came back, but that’s of no matter, you know how to cook. In no time, a full breakfast and hot caf is served. You dust off some of the debris before placing the plates and mugs down on the table and everyone digs in.
Once breakfast is over, the four clones get to work hauling away the large debris pieces from the wall and the crushed AT-RT. You offer the use of the dumpster in the back of the building, but they insist that the GAR will come pick it up and you should use the dumpster for smaller debris. You don’t argue with them and set out with Violet to clean whatever you can of the mess inside the diner, making sure to wear gloves so you don’t cut your hands on any sharp pieces.
As the day continues, the desert heat begins to seep into the diner. The crash must have broken the refrigerant lines, but with the gaping hole in the side of the diner, the climate control wouldn’t be of much use anyway. You and Violet switch gears and make a refreshing batch of Tatooine Sunset to ensure everyone stays hydrated. You also put damp towels in the conservator to help cool everyone off during breaks. It’s barely midday and you know it’s only going to get hotter.
Soon enough, the clones start shedding their armor, at least the top halves of their armor. You’ve never seen a clone without their armor, but honestly, you haven’t seen that many clones to begin with. It’s when they start taking the top black portion of their bodysuits off that you really take notice. They’re jacked. You stand back in one of the corners, mindlessly moving your broom as you watch them work. Not a single piece of debris makes it into the dustpan.
Violet elbows you in the side.
“Ow!” you exclaim. “What was that for?”
“You’re staring,” Violet answers.
“Am not,” you argue.
Violet crosses her arms. “Four hot, shirtless men are flexing their muscles and sweating in our diner, and you’re not staring?”
You purse your lips trying not to give her any satisfaction.
“Well, I’m going to stare,” Violet says. “I mean, look at those abs. But the difference is that I can stare and sweep.”
You roll your eyes and push some garbage into the dustpan.
“You wanted more,” Violet says as she nonchalantly scoots away with her broom. “Well, more is standing over there with a giant tattoo on his head.”
You open your mouth to protest, but she’s too far away. You hate it when she does that. Violet always seems to know what you’re thinking before you’ve even thought it yourself. According to her it’s her gift to the world, but really, it’s just a nuisance. She is right, though, because Jesse does make your heart flutter. You’ve just met him, but it's like you’ve known him your entire life. Talking to him feels as natural as breathing, and for the first time, you truly feel fortunate for your job at the diner.
You lean on your broom and start staring again, watching Jesse walk over to the rubble, pick up a large piece, then carry it out of the diner and drop it onto the pile. Each movement he makes causes the muscles in his arms and torso to ripple with dramatic effect. The sweat that drips down his body only serves to accentuate how toned he is. Before you even realize it, Jesse’s looking at you and you nearly fall off your broom in embarrassment, but he smiles at you.
You continue cleaning up the diner while stealing glances at Jesse, but he also glances back. You want so badly just to sit down and talk with him more. Your conversation on the rooftop last night was a lot of fun and you both shared different things about your lives. You told him about your parents and how you got stuck working at the diner, and he told you about his battalion and how he got stuck going on this training mission. Both equally unfortunate, but now, it feels okay.
The late afternoon break comes around, so you and Violet make another batch of Tatooine Sunset, as well as some sandwiches. The clones inhale the sandwiches so fast that you’re embarrassed you didn’t make more. You offer to, but they turn you down, being grateful just for the opportunity to eat real food instead of rations. You smile and turn back towards the kitchen. Jesse follows you through the double-doors and leans his hot back against the cool conservator.
“Like what you see?” Jesse asks with a smirk.
You turn around to look at him. “The wall’s coming along nice.”
Jesse scrunches his nose. “You weren’t staring at the wall.”
“How do you know?” you jest. “Maybe I like walls.”
Jesse tilts his head to the side and folds his arms over his bare chest. “Are you sure you don’t like something else?”
You groan. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
Jesse gives you a devilish grin.
“Fine,” you sigh. “I like what I see.”
“I knew it,” Jesse says, a little too excited.
“Maker above, would you two please get a room!” Violet exclaims from the order window. “I’m so sick of you staring at each other. The closet is empty if you’re looking for a place to smash.”
“Violet!” you yell as your face flushes with embarrassment.
Jesse snorts. “That closet can barely fit a broom.”
“Then kiss or something,” Violet says. “Anything to get you two back to work.”
Jesse pushes off the conservator and heads towards the double doors. “You heard the task-master.”
“Wait,” you call. “Aren't you going to kiss me?”
Jesse stops and turns his head. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
You fidget with your hem. “Kinda.”
“Kinda isn’t a yes or a no,” Jesse says.
“Yes,” you correct. “I want you to kiss me.”
Jesse takes his hand off the double doors and walks over to you. Your eyes dart around as your nerves start to get the better of you. You can’t believe you just asked him to kiss you. You’ve never kissed anyone before. What if you’re bad at it? What if he doesn’t like it? What if you accidentally bite him? Maker, your stomach is in knots. Your breathing becomes heavier as he gets closer, but your nervous energy comes to a halt when he cups the side of your face.
Jesse smooths his thumb over your cheek and gives you a reassuring smile. He dips his head and tilts it to the side before pressing his lips against yours. His lips are warm and their touch ever so gentle as they melt into yours. You place your hands on his chest and all of your worries and concerns slip away as all you can think about is Jesse. You don’t want this moment to end, but eventually he pulls back, breaking the kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting for more.
Without a single word, Jesse turns on his heels and leaves the kitchen to go back to work fixing the wall. You stand there, alone in the kitchen, completely dazed by what just happened. You’re not sure if you’re dreaming or not, but you’re too afraid to pinch yourself to find out. You press your fingers to your lips, thinking about the kiss, and your body warms. You’re not sure how you can work now, but you do know that you’ll be spending every spare moment you have with Jesse.
Finally the repairs are complete and tonight is your last night with Jesse. Your stomach aches at the thought of him leaving. Only a couple of rotations ago, he crashed into your life and stole your heart. You didn’t mean to fall for him, but his soulful brown eyes and bright smile captivated you. Besides, the feelings are mutual. You don’t want him to leave, but you know he can’t stay. He’s a soldier, with things to do and places to go, and you’re just a waitress at a diner in the middle of nowhere.
You’re spending your last night together sitting up on the rooftop of the diner, legs dangling over the edge, as you gaze up at the moon and soak in each other’s presence. It’s quiet, like it usually is in the desert, and not a soul would dare to disturb this moment, not even Violet. You want your last night with Jesse to be a memorable one, and what better way to end it then with the way you started it; on the roof. It may be silly to some, but it makes the pain a little easier.
“You’re leaving tomorrow,” you say sadly.
“Yeah,” Jesse answers, equally feeling sad about his departure.
“I don’t want you to go,” you admit as your voice quivers.
Jesse wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his side, leaning his head atop yours. “I don’t want to go either.”
“Stay?” you ask.
“You know I can’t,” Jesse sighs.
“Please,” you plead while nuzzling into his neck. “Don’t go.”
Jesse’s heart breaks. He picks his head up and cups the side of your face, leaning in and closing his eyes to capture your soft lips with his own. You press your body against his, deepening the kiss until Jesse is laying flat against the roof and you’re straddling over his stomach. Your lips are locked as Jesse glides his rough hands over your smooth back, pulling your shirt in different directions as he maps out the plains of your body.
Jesse breaks the kiss for a moment. “Come back to Coruscant with me,” he whispers while ghosting his lips over yours before nipping at your bottom lip and pulling them back against his.
Now it’s your turn to break the kiss. “Jesse–”
“We could get an apartment,” he cuts you off before you can protest, then plants a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I’ll take care of you.” Another kiss finds its mark. “My vode will adore you.” A gentle suck at your bottom lip. “We’ll make lots of babies.” He smirks and you can’t stop the giggle from forming.
You sit up and release a soft sigh. “Sounds nice.”
Jesse reaches up and cups your chin. “But?”
You melt into his caress for a moment before removing his hand from your face. “But I can’t.”
Jesse bends his knees so you can lean back against them, then laces his fingers under his head. “Why not?”
You absently draw small circles around his chest with your fingers, the longing evident in your actions but missing from your words. “My home is here.”
“I could be your home,” Jesse reassures with a small smile.
You briefly smile back and tap at his chest. “What if something happens to you? I’ll be alone.”
Jesse knits his brows and frowns, fully understanding your hesitation. He’s a soldier, created to be expendable. His brothers die every day and no one bats an eyelash. There’s no guarantees that he’ll come back from his next campaign alive, but still, he wants this. He wants you.
Jesse untangles his fingers from behind his head and takes both of your hands in his own, kissing them tenderly. “I can’t promise tomorrow,” he admits. “I can only promise now.”
A single tear rolls down your cheek. “Then can I have you, at least right now?”
Jesse wipes your tear with his thumb, then flips you onto your back so he’s hovering over you. He leans down and presses his lips to yours once again, yearning to taste as much of you as possible. If this is his only moment with you, then he wants to remember everything. Every sweet taste, every curve, every bump, and every heavenly sound you’ll make for him as he ravages your body with only the moon above as a witness.
“Jesse,” you say his name breathlessly as your desire builds. “I want–”
Jesse places a finger against your lips to hush you. “I know, mesh’la,” he soothes while rubbing his finger across your plush lips before gently pushing it into your mouth, causing you to gasp. “We’ve got all night.”
The light of the rising sun pierces through your eyelids, rousing you from your slumber. The morning comes quicker than you expect and you groan as you sit yourself up on the hard dura-steel roof. You rub the sleep from your eyes and look over to your right, expecting Jesse to still be sleeping, but he’s gone. Your heart sinks and you whip your head around to make sure he didn’t get up and stretch his legs, but you don’t see him. He must have left before you awoke.
Holding tears back, you stand up and pat down your wrinkled and disheveled clothes, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. But who are you kidding? How could you ever be normal again after a night like that? A night of romance, passion, and longing that made you feel everything and nothing all at the same time. You know this is for the best. He’ll go back to Coruscant, back to the war, and you’ll be here, working your minimum wage job.
You break at the thought. Dropping to your knees you begin to sob, grieving over what you let go of. You don’t want Jesse to leave. You don’t want him to be a one night stand. You want a life with him. Even if it means him being away for weeks at a time or that he may leave and never come back. That slim chance is lightyears better than never seeing him again, than never feeling his burning touch on your skin or hearing his deep voice whisper sweetly in your ear.
You have to go after him. You can’t let him leave, not without you. Maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t care. Burdened with the thought of never seeing him again, you wipe your face, pick yourself up, and head to the ledge. You grab the ladder and stare off into the distance, wondering if you’ll catch a glimpse of him, but you don’t. You may be too late. Regardless, you slip down the ladder, ignoring the rungs and land with a thud onto the dusty ground.
You’re breathing heavily, your hair is a mess, and your clothes are horribly wrinkled, but you don’t care. You push open the front door violently. “I quit!”
Violet looks up at you from where she’s mopping the floor and pauses to lean on her mop with a knowing smile. Love wins, she guesses, and she’s right.
You walk over to Violet and throw your arms around her. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“I know,” Violet says as she hugs you tightly.
“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, the tears barely held back.
“I’ll miss you too,” Violet answers with a tremble in her voice. She breaks your embrace and composes herself. “Now go, or you won’t catch him.”
You reluctantly let go of your best friend, and with tears in your eyes, you back away and leave.
“You got everything?” Waxer asks as he carries another crate into the transport that’s taking Jesse back to Coruscant.
“Hm?” Jesse snaps out of his daze. “Oh, yeah,” Jesse answers, and then pauses. “I… I left something in the desert.”
“I hope it wasn’t valuable,” Waxer laughs.
Jesse stares out towards the dusty horizon and sighs. “Priceless, actually.”
Waxer claps a comforting hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Sorry to hear that.”
Jesse gives Waxer a half smile, but it quickly fades back into a frown. His transport leaves within the hour and he wonders if he made a mistake by not saying goodbye. He thought if he left without a word, it would be easier for both of you, but he was wrong. His chest feels tight and his heart aches. What he wouldn’t give to hear your voice one more time. He didn’t think it was possible to leave this dusty planet more upset than when he first landed, and yet here he is.
Jesse takes one last look at the place he initially despised, then turns to board the transport. It’s not just you that he left in the desert. He left his heart there too, on the rooftop of that old diner. He sits on one of the crates in the back of the transport and leans his head against the cold frame. He didn’t want this assignment. He didn’t want to come here. It could have been any other clone, but no, his number was drawn. The universe has a cruel sense of humor.
Before the ramp closes, Jesse hears someone calling for the transport to halt. Leaving his bucket on the crate, he makes his way back down the ramp to ask what’s delaying the departure, thinking it might be something mechanical. However, as he barely steps off the ramp and onto the dusty earth, he sees a speeder in the distance. He grabs a pair of scopes from a nearby clone trooper and dials in on the speeder. His breath catches in his throat. It’s you.
Jesse gives the scopes back to the clone trooper he took them from and starts walking away from the transport, his heart beating rapidly out of his chest, wondering if it’s really true or if the desert heat is playing tricks on him. Did you just want to say goodbye or do you want to go with him? He doesn’t dare let himself think the latter. You made it clear to him last night that you won’t go with him, but he wants to hope so badly. He wants to believe that it’s the only reason.
The speeder comes to a screeching halt a couple yards away from Jesse and he watches with bated breath as you jump out of it and sprint towards him.
“Jesse!” you yell as tears fall from your face.
Jesse smiles and opens his arms. You jump into them without a second thought and bury your face into his neck. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you off of the ground and onto his hips, one arm cradling your butt and the other securing around your back.
“I didn’t think I was going to make it in time,” you cry.
“You made it, mesh’la,” Jesse soothes as he kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”
You pick your head up and look at him through blurry vision, a small smile growing on your lips. “Not goodbye. I’m going with you.”
Jesse’s eyes dart around your face, looking for any semblance that you’re joking or maybe this is a dream, but he can’t find anything. “You’re coming with me? To Coruscant?”
You nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you try to use it again.
Jesse squeezes you tighter, terrified that at any moment you’ll be ripped away from him. He can’t believe that you changed your mind, that you’re going back with him. His thoughts race a mile a minute as he thinks about your future together. He has a stake in this war now, something worth fighting for that wasn’t thrust upon him by someone else or programmed into him as duty and loyalty. No, now he has you, and he will fight this war to make sure you stay safe in his arms.
“Let’s go home,” Jesse says as he carries you into the transport.
You smile and rest your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”
Summary: Reader is a youngling-care professional who cares very deeply about their little ones and isn’t afraid to protect them. Sgt. Soot makes a mistake, but he gets a chance to make it right.
Pairing: GN!reader x Sergeant Soot
Rating: G
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: n/a
Author’s Note: Sergeant Soot is a trooper stationed with Commander Grey’s Battalion, assigned to Jedi Generals Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume. He appears in the Kanan comic series! He has one or two lines, so I basically reverse-engineered him into an OC based on his sense of humour, matter-of-factness, and observational skills. Reader is based on a special friend who definitely shares some (protectiveness, fierceness, caring heart), but not all (lack of awareness about clone culture and lives) of the same qualities!
Read while listening to: Someone New by Hozier
~ Sergeant Soot's POV ~
A cacophony of sharp and squealing giggles pierced through the train as the doors slid open.
Through the HUD of his bucket, Soot — ever the alert sergeant — found himself assessing the source: four boisterous younglings of various species, with a humanoid chaperone in tow boarding the car.
“You’re a bantha bum!” taunted the Nautolan youngling to the humanoid youngling.
“Well, y-you’re a hairy bantha bum!” a small Twi’lek retorted.
“Oh yeah?! You’re all the hairiest bantha bums!” interjected the Rodian youngling.
“Shhh! Come, all of you, hush and sit!” Their chaperone insisted as they herded them into the car. They didn’t resemble the humanoid child, Soot thought. They also wore modest, but polished robes. Not their parent, but perhaps not a teacher either.
Breathless laughter and shrieks persisted as the group settled on seats across from where Soot and Big-Mouth stood. Both in full kit, fresh into their 48 hours of shore leave on Coruscant, Soot nudged a sharp elbow at his brother.
“Get a load of this,” Soot whispered.
Big-Mouth responded with an amused huff, “Aiwha-bait would never stand for it, eh?”
“Righto, vod.” The brothers chuckled softly amongst themselves.
Soot wondered at the tenacity of a person who could wrangle such a chaotic crew. He reminisced on exasperated trainers, watchful long-necks, and an “adolescence” (if you could call it that) as a very cautious cadet. As genetically-enhanced assets for the Republic, Soot knew there were different developmental expectations for him and his brothers, but it never seemed quite so clear until a moment like this.
The Nautolan whispered in the ear of the Rodian beside them, both giggling until their colourful cheeks flushed deeper with pigment. The two of them seemed to be conspiring, Soot estimated.
“Hey! Mister!” The Rodian hollered.
“Knapp…” The chaperone started.
“Where’s your blasters?!” The Nautolan piped up.
“Eysu!” The chaperone scolded, “Inside voice, please! And let’s all leave the soldiers alone.”
Soot chuckled, then rotated to expose the hip holster where his pistol rested. “You mean, this?”
“Wizard!” said Knapp and Eysu, simultaneously.
The chaperone’s worried brow deepened. “Sir, I would appreciate if you didn’t display weapons to my younglings. They are in my charge.”
Big-Mouth chimed in, “It’s a big and dangerous city. All the more reason to know how to protect yourself, I say.”
“I doubt my employers would agree with that sentiment.” The chaperone insisted.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Soot apologized. His remorse didn’t seem to appease them. The dull hum of the train only grew louder as the younglings quieted in response to the displeasure of their chaperone.
The chaperone dropped their glance, attending towards the younglings. Soot straightened up, turning the view of his helmet away. Undetectably, Soot continued to watch them from behind the tint of his visor.
Should I say something more?
“Alright everyone, this is where we get off.” The chaperone prepared the younglings to depart. With a curt nod to the two clones, they and the others exited the car.
Ah, kriff.
~ Reader's POV ~
“Come on, please!”
“Being around more clones is the last thing I need after the day I had.” you protested.
“Don’t be a scughole, they may look the same, but they do have different personalities y’know.”
After your unfortunate run-in earlier that day on the train, your younglings had continued to pester you with endless questions about soldiers, blasters, and what the second clone had meant by Coruscant being “dangerous.” It took every shred of your trained patience to maintain a pleasant demeanour until their parents or parents’ aides retrieved them. And now Ni’la was insistent on bringing you to the single most clone-populated establishment in the upper levels.
“I know that, Ni.” You rolled your eyes with disdain, “They’re different, sure, but I haven’t come across one yet who’s taken more interest in me than the size of their blaster or a retelling of their latest mission.”
“Maybeee you just haven’t met the right one yet!” Ni’la sassed. She was dressed in her best and had convinced you to get ready too — without telling you where she planned on heading tonight. Now, the two of you were a block away from the thumping, glaring, buzzy corner where 79’s lived.
“Oh, and you have?” you asked.
“No, but I’m ready to keep looking! C’mon, it’s looking so fun tonight!” She couldn’t contain her apparent excitement, as she sped ahead towards the entrance.
------
Ni’la had gotten her wish, a few times over, as you watched her enchant several clones on the dance floor. Her blue lekku move gracefully with the rest of her body as she swayed to the beat. Fatigued by the day, you had passed on her attempts to drag you with her, choosing instead to nurse your Pink Nebula in an adjacent booth.
You watched as a fourth clone approached Ni’la, evaluating for a second before he changed his trajectory and started heading towards you.
Oh great, you thought, here we go again.
Your trusted stone-faced “leave me the kriff alone” expression did little to deter the man. He was half-armoured like most of his brothers in the bar, but his dark hair was buzzed, short and much closer to the scalp than the typical cut many clones had.
With a beer in his hand, he strode up to the edge of your table.
Using his free hand to rub his buzzed head bashfully, he motioned with the beer towards Ni’la and his brothers on the dance floor. “Your friend’s got quite the fan club.”
“How’d you know she’s my friend?”
“You’re sitting alone, watching but not looking very interested in the pretty twi’lek or the guys she’s with, lookin’ less than interested in anyone and anything else here either.”
You gave a nod of approval for his skills of deduction.
“So why aren’t you up there with her?”
“Been a long day,” you started, taking another long sip.
“Care to enlighten me?” He motioned to the empty space in the booth beside you.
You did the math quickly: Ni’la would probably be occupied by one or more of his lucky brothers for the rest of the evening. Being alone was good and fine, but this was a rare occasion where your conversation partner seemed genuinely interested in you. So, why not?
“Just work. An extra… complicated day, I guess.”
He slid into the empty seat next to you. “What d’you do?”
You hesitated, considering that you didn’t need to revert to your usual level of discretion, seeing as he likely understood the value of informational sensitivity.
“I provide care for the younglings of Senate representatives.” You held your breath, never having revealed the true extent of your employment in such a casual setting before.
“Do you like it?”
You continued, both impressed and appreciative of his genuine curiosity: “Parts of it. I love my little ones; I love getting to help them learn and play and become who they want to be.”
“But…?” He held your gaze with his warm and assuring brown eyes.
“But being employed by the Galactic Senate has its complications. I’m sure you can relate.”
He nodded, pausing for a moment. This was usually about the time when soldiers you had met started revelling in their tales of glory. That he hadn’t taken the invitation to start talking about himself made him seem different; he was giving thought to your words, your life.
“How do you deal with that?”
“It’s been hard, and I’ve had to take my time. But when the frustrating bits of politics or real life trickles in, I try to keep my focus on the younglings and draw from how joyful and resilient they are. You know how they can be.” You gestured vaguely.
His face scrunched a bit at that.
“Honestly… We clones have a pretty minor frame of reference.”
“Oh?”
“As soldiers, we have an… interesting upbringing, to put it lightly.”
You’d never given much consideration to the intricacies of clones’ lives before their service.
“But you’ve never interacted with younglings in any capacity?” you asked.
“My battalion’s Jedi general is quite young, but he’s also probably not what you would consider a regular youngling,” he joked.
“No, I wouldn’t,” you huffed.
He smiled, pausing and fiddling with the bottle in his hand.
“So, youngling expert… What would you say to a real clueless dolt who shows off weapons to younglings?” he looked at you expectantly.
Your eyes widened as your brain processed the connection. Him. He was the same clone from the train. You gaped at him for just a moment more.
“… I would say that you’re very lucky that the younglings had such a short train journey. Their chaperone can get pretty nasty when they’re in protective mode.”
“Guess I’m also lucky a certain twi’lek decided to bring their chaperone to the clone bar tonight so I can properly apologize.” He rubbed his head again, “I’m sorry for that.”
“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding it hard to resist a small smile.
“Really, I am. Didn’t realize what a headache it would be for you.”
“It’s over now.” You shrugged, hands toying with your now-empty glass. “And now I know you really didn’t know better.”
“Well, alright then.” His brown eyes continued to hold contact with yours, his attention focused as if you were the single most important thing in the galaxy. You found yourself almost paralyzed by the tenderness promised by his gaze.
Ni’la’s musical giggles broke through the concentration of the moment. It had been a good night out for everyone, apparently. When she realized she had your attention again, she motioned to signal she’d be leaving with her chosen soldier. Her giggle climbed an octave, if possible, as the man swept her up bridal-style and headed out.
The pair of you at the booth scoffed in unison, humoured by your lively friends.
“Are you hungry at all?” he asked. “Wanna get out of here and grab something to eat?”
“As long as you keep that blaster holstered.” You flashed him a sly smile.
He chuckled, “Oh, I’ve definitely learned my lesson.”
A/N: First off, apologizes that this wasn’t ready at the first deadline. I really wanted to get characterizations correct and struggled finding fics to help with that (the irony that this is a rare clone fic exchange so of course I couldn’t find anything to help me is not lost on me). But thankfully I had some help from the patron of this exchange and I was able to finish!
Secondly, I really hope you like this @littlemissmanga! I’m not a smut writer, but I tried to make this a bit spicier and more suggestive than I usually do. I truly hope you enjoy this and it makes up for me being late to the party.
Thirdly, this is for Alpha-17 and I know he’s based on Kamino, but I had this idea and I couldn’t imagine it any other way so lets all pretend he had business on Coruscant. It is a fic after all, so let me suspend a bit of belief here. Work with me pls. This is my first time writing for him, so hopefully I do him justice!!
Summary: You run into trouble (literally) and Alpha-17 is there to help. But the moment sparks fly, you debate inviting him to spend his four free hours with you despite having just met him. What should you do? Let him walk away? Or take a leap?
Pairing: Alpha-17 x GN!reader
Rating: Borderline SFW & NSFW. It gets a little spicy (making out and such), but no smut (just heavily implied). Some swearing (fr reader who is in a panic because of our boy)
Despite the advanced warning, you barely had time to react before something hard collided against you, knocking you down onto the pavement. Your arm was throbbing and your ribs ached as you let out a cough, the sound of a speeder growing quieter was the only cue to what had almost happened. You braced your hands on the ground, eyes opening as you moved to a kneeling position.
Beside you, a clone trooper was also climbing to their feet. You let out a huff as your arm continued to sting with pain.
“Next time, be a little more gentle before you tackle someone without armor.”
The trooper’s helmet snapped up towards you and you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine. You knew he was looking directly at you and it was equal parts unnerving and exciting.
“Next time, how about I just don’t save your life.” Came the husky voice from through the helmet modulator.
Another shiver.
You rolled your eyes, wincing as you shakily climbed to your feet. “Fine, thanks or whatever.”
You brushed off your clothes, noticing a small tear in your sleeve and cursing under your breath. There was a scrape on your elbow that was bleeding only slightly, which meant that it wasn’t serious. It hurt, but it could wait until you made it back to your place.
A gloved hand appeared in your field of vision as the trooper gently gripped your arm and peered at the minor scrape. You inhaled sharply when his finger touched the raw skin. His helmet tilted to you for a moment before returning to your arm.
“Do you have bacta?”
You pulled your arm out of his grasp, trying to ignore how the tingling had stopped and the warmth disappeared. “Not on me. I’ll be fine.”
“Fine, don’t say I didn’t ask.”
You huffed. “Alright, well, thanks again. I’ll be on my way.”
You gave him a weak salute before turning on your heel and heading in the direction you were originally going.
Maker, who was that guy?
You knew he was a trooper, obviously. But you didn’t even ask for his name. Well, it was too late for that. He would just be a figment of your imagination until the end of time, existing as a figure that would likely frequent your dreams in the coming months with his voice alone. Although the rest of him would absolutely torment your mind just as much.
“You like my voice, huh?” You jumped at the voice at your side, eyes wide as you looked over and up and up before meeting a pair of deep brown eyes.
Wait, brown eyes?
Oh kriffing hells he took off his helmet.
To cover your embarrassment, you sneered, tearing your eyes away from him. “Should I add stalker to that list?”
“I’m not stalking you.”
“Okay then, care to explain why you’re following me?”
He let out a breath, eyes tipping towards the darkened Coruscanti sky. “Well, you did walk into traffic and were almost hit by a speeder, so I figured you could use an escort. You know, in case you decide to jump in front of a speeding vehicle again.”
You bit down on your lip.
Kriff him.
“Fine. What’s your name then? Since you’re insistent on following me?” You snapped, forcing your eyes to remain forward instead of on the absolute specimen of a man beside you.
“Alpha-17.”
You tamped down on a snicker than threatened to slip past your lips. As amusing as it was that his name is Alpha, the number in his name had you hesitating. He was a trooper, a clone of someone else, without any kind of freedom. Now was not the time to crack a joke at a name he likely wasn’t able to give himself.
You hummed before giving him your name in return. He didn’t say anything else, just continued to walk beside you.
You hated to admit it, but it was nice to walk with someone on a walk that you normally made alone. Even if you weren’t talking, you enjoyed the silent company.
The fact that it was with the hottest man you’d ever seen was a bonus.
You weren’t able to stop yourself from sneaking glances at him. He really was incredibly easy on the eyes. He seemed taller, bigger than the other troopers you had met since the war began. You had no idea why, but it made him that much more appealing.
You wouldn’t mind entertaining him a little bit longer or maybe thanking him for rescuing you.
“Is there something on my face?”
His voice startled you into meeting his gaze as your face flamed. “No.” You spit out quickly, but the growing warmth on your face likely told a different story.
He hummed in response again, a deep noise that came from his chest. It had another shiver shooting down your spine. Your eyes focused on the path in front of you, desperate to avoid the gaze of the man that was causing your heart to hammer loudly in your own chest.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” You said, eager to change the subject from your slip up.
“No.”
You blinked. “Really? You’re sure?”
“Positive. I’m here on official GAR business, but I am not due to report for another four hours.” He said and you nodded, eyes falling back on the ground in front of you.
Four hours huh?
If he’s just following you to make sure you get back, you could just keep walking. He would never know. And then you would get to spend more time with him. Maybe you could talk to him more. Despite his gruff nature, he seemed kind enough, I mean he did save your life. You wanted to learn more about him and continuing this walk seemed like a great place to start.
Or maybe you should lead him back to your place.
Your face flushed again at the thought.
No. That’s a bad idea, well, not a bad idea, in fact it is a very, very, good idea. But maybe more ill-advised and incredibly reckless of you. You hardly knew him, but there was something about him that had you wanting to throw all caution to the wind. You risked another glance at the handsome lines of his face.
So why were you considering it anyway?
His eyes met yours and it was like there was a spark.
Alpha-17 suddenly crowded your frame, pushing you to the side. You stumbled a few steps before your back hit a hard wall. When you opened your eyes, you saw him hovering much closer to you. Your hands gripped the edges of his chest plate as the wall behind you bit into your back. His arms caged you in the small alley, but you still felt safe.
“If you don’t stop looking at me with those eyes, I might get the wrong idea.” His voice was low and it sent a jolt straight through you.
You’re not sure what came over you, but you answered him quietly. “What if that’s what I was going for?”
He made another sound deep in his chest as he shifted closer, pressing you further into the wall behind you. But instead of feeling cornered, you felt completely at ease. “Are you sure? I can’t promise more than the next four hours.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
A strangled noise escaped from his lips seconds before they crashed against yours.
It was equal parts messy, desperate, and incredibly hot. It was like he couldn’t pull you close enough and you were just as eager to crawl closer and never leave as your mouths moved desperately against each other. Your hand wandered everywhere that was accessible to you and he seemed to be trying to map every inch of you to his memory.
His tongue nudged against your lips and you opened your mouth immediately, groaning when he pushed inside. His hands wandered down to your legs and without any effort at all, he lifted you. Instinctively, your legs entangled behind him as the angle of your lips improved dramatically. His hips pressed against yours and you both let out a shuddering breath at the contact.
Your hands gripped his closely cropped hair, tugging him impossibly closer. He came willingly, his hands holding a bruising grip against your thighs.
Just as you felt a warmth begin to grow deep within your stomach, your feet hit the ground. You stumbled on wobbly legs, eyes opening to see Alpha-17 picking up his discarded helmet.
“We should stop before we do something we regret. This isn’t the place for this.” He said before giving you a nod and walking away.
You stared, blinking at his retreating back in absolute confusion. Your brain was muddled and foggy and it took you way longer than normal to formulate a response. When you gained control again, you took off after him, stumbling slightly.
“Wait!” Your voice had him pausing. His head tilted back towards you, but his body remained facing forward. “You said you could only promise four hours. What if I want that time?”
You could see him take a deep breath.
“My place is right around the corner.”
He remained silent for what felt like an eternity before he turned, his intense brown eyes meeting yours.
Alpha-17 held out his gloved hand towards you. “Then lead the way.”
You didn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face as you dashed forward, grabbing his hand in yours and tugging him into a run.
Screw taking a walk with him.
You had an activity that would be much more fun for the four hours you had together. Maybe someday you would get to take that walk and really get to talk to him.
But for now, you had something else in mind entirely.
His hand tightened around yours and you couldn’t help but shoot him another smile. The corner of his mouth ticked up and you felt a buzzing in your stomach.
Yeah, this was a much better use of your time.
[And in the end, the four hours was more than enough time to learn all about Alpha-17 and for him to learn all about you. Multiple times in fact.]
I had the pleasure to write for Sinker, a clone recommended by the lovely @wolffegirlsunite
Have fun reading or in my language "Viel Spaß:)"
Pairing: Sergeant Sinker x witch reader
Rating: SFW (kissing and a minor wound)
word count: 4449
Little warning: I tried to make it GN, but there will be some mentions of female anatomy and the verb “she”, I don’t know how to write it the other way, no hate intended! Also english isn’t my first language so, please if you find errors write me😊
“Brief” summary: After Rowan's coven was murdered by the separatists and she barely survived, the question arises as to what she should do now. Alone on a planet that is no longer thriving but was the scene of a brutal crime, the chances of survival are not so good. But when an unknown ship lands on the bleeding planet and a helping hand reaches out to her, she takes it without thinking for long and enters a world that has never shown itself to her before. With new friends by her side, Rowan will finally experience what it means to live again.
Gunships flew over my head and I could feel the vibrations coming from it when it landed softly on the inside of the cruiser. Men with white plasteriod poured from out of the ship but I was intently focused on two of them.
Sinker and Boost. My best friends since the last three months. They were the ones who took me under their wing after Master Plo Koon rescued me from my home planet. Shuddering when I thought about the disaster that happened not long ago I was brought back by an arm aggressively slung around my shoulders from two sides.
Identical smirking faces looked down at me and I punched them with my elbow when they squished me between their dirty armor. Boost laughed when Sinker took my whole body and brought me into a giant hug. Melting into the sergeant I sighed and relieved flowed through my body.
The last four days I was worried sick when they announced that they were engaging with the separatists, together with the 501st. and since I was no help in the field Commander Wollfe strictly forbid me to join them. Breathing deeply I was passed into the arms of Boost as he too, brought me into a giant hug.
After a while and one debriefing later I joined them in the medical ward because all of the brothers couldn’t keep their hands still and started a food fight in the cafeteria. Unfortunately Comet, who was still a bit clumsy threw his bottle and Sinker was the unfortunate one who it landed on. Directly on the side of his head.
So here we were wandering through the halls, a laughing Boost and worried Comet behind us. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sinker mumbling to himself and looking everything but pleased. But I could understand. A scolding came from the commander as soon as we left the cafeteria and no other than Comet, Boost and Sinker were told to help the next few rotations. Gently I nudged Sinker with my arm and his warm eyes flitted to me without hesitation.
Butterflies erupted inside my belly, a warm feeling making me feel all gooey when he looked at me. Quirking his eyebrows he nudged me back and I couldn’t help but grin. Just before I could say anything Boost voice sounded behind us. “Hey Lovebirds, Comet and I are going to see if Wolffe needs any help with his headache. Don’t have too much fun!” And then they were gone.
My face was bright red when I looked at Sinker and saw his little smirk. Shaking my head I just dragged him towards the med ward and hoped his wound wasn’t too bad.
Half an hour later, Sinker and I trudged through the halls. The bacta patch still attached to his temple didn’t made his mood any better but after I pleaded with him he let it stay on his head. Now on the way to my quarters the atmosphere flowed with some strange energy.
Taking my key card and sliding it through the slid my door quietly swooshed open and I walked into the small but comfortable space. Without saying a word Sinker plopped down on the little sofa, groaning when his plasteroid pinched his sides. Quietly chuckling I gestured for him to stand up and without a comment he did. Slowly lifting my hands, my magic worked piece by piece from his body until he stood in just his blacks infront of me.
Inhaling quietly I stared at his body, muscles flexing when I stepped closer to him, as if my body had a mind of its own. Warm hands caressed my sides and before I could take a step back his hands closed around my waist, tugging me closer to him until his body was aligned with mine.
Breathing deeply I shudder when his forehead rested on mine and our breaths mingled. “Rowan…” his voice was just as weak as I felt in this exact moment. Nudging my nose against his, these stupid rules about attachments and such went flying out of the cruiser when his lips landed on mine.
His breath hitched and then the barest there pressure against my lips made my knees go weak. Our lips gently moved together, with no hurry in the world. Warm hands slid down, around my hips and then upwards into my hair and around my ribcage. His scent was warm and drowning me.
But even the purest moments must end when you have no more air. With a quiet smacking sound our lips parted and the dazed look in his eyes made me want to kiss him again and again. “You have no idea for how long I wanted to do this.” His voice was deep and scratchy and I couldn’t help myself, but press my lips against his.
And maybe, just maybe a flower bloomed onto a far away planet, feeling a power so strong it would shake the galaxy.
With tired eyes and a heaving chest, you try to stir and fully jolt yourself awake in Hardcase’s arms. There aren’t any lights on, only the soft lumination of passing speeders at this unholy hour.
“Babe.”
You huff, turn over, and almost immediately collide with Hardcase’s watchful eye above you. Leaning on an elbow, he has an idea-struck face, as if anticipating anyone with willing ears to listen.
“What is it?” you rasp, yelping at how dry your throat feels as you speak. While swallowing down some gathered saliva and clearing your throat, Hardcase hums and leans further, riveting feelings of brilliance in his eyes. “It’s not even 0400 yet.”
He had better woken you up for something good.
Hardcase pouts at your foiling glare and continues without a moment to linger further.
“Do you think if the Jedi ever find out about General Skywalker and his wife, they’ll tell him ‘may divorce be with you’?”
Your jaw slacks, your elbow slowly sliding down, and you plop your head back down on your pillow, incredulously scoffing.
“Maker, `Case,” You groan, biting back a laugh. “You woke me up for this?”
“Yes!” He exclaims, shuffling to lean over you with a speculative eyebrow raise. “It’s genius. Do you think it isn’t?”
“I think it’s silly,” You retort. Hardcase whines and leans down as well, cradling his face with a forearm to keep his stare on you. How he manages to stay so wide-eyed at this hour, you’re unsure.
“Haters gonna hate,” is his only response. You sigh.
“I’m not a hater,” you bite your lip when you feel his breath on your creep closer, body heat radiating toward yours. He’s still got that pensive, mischievous look on his face. But you can feel yourself beginning to drift off. You yawn out, “Just a person who likes their sleep.”
“Hm,” Hardcase hums as though he doesn’t believe you yet.
Silence rushes over the two of you, and your eyelids weigh heavy, just as though you’re about to fall asleep. But then Hardcase talks again.
“How do you unlock doors on Kashyyyk?”
Oh lord.
You try to stay silent so he thinks you’re asleep.
“With a wook-key.”
You’re unsuccessful.
The snicker that lurches in your mouth gets Hardcase smiling all smug and satisfied into your shoulder.
You slap the back of his head lightly with a whine.
“That wasn’t funny!” You say in a whisper-yell.
“Is that so?” Hardcase mutters against the bare skin of your shoulder, vibrations of his voice sending relaxing yet rousing shivers through your chest. “Then why’d you laugh?”
Your mouth falls ajar, gasping softly as he continues giggling.
“I’m not laughing because it’s funny!” You snap back in your greatest attempt to convince him of your innocence. “I’m only laughing because you’re just so unbelievable.”
“But you love me,” Hardcase says in a cheerful, sing-song voice. With a roll of your eyes, everything softens as you feel a featherlight kiss against your neck, his lips lazily pursed and pressed to your skin.
“Yeah, I do.”
Silence finally rushes between you, but as you suddenly become restless, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.
“How do Jedi eat?”
Hardcase perks up, reverence coating his stare for indulging him so. Your lips curl upwards in a tight, lovely grin.
“They force-feed themself.”
His incessant giggles make you bite your lip and bring him down into the crook of your neck and shoulder again.
“That’s a good one,” he compliments, hand crawling up from his side. As he talks, a cold hand slithers up your stomach, slipping under the fabric of your tank top to trace aimless patterns into your skin. “Where’d you learn it.”
“‘Heard it ‘round the base.”
“Clever.”
You nod. “I know.”
“Makes sense that you didn’t make it yourself then.”
You gasp, flicking his forehead lightly when he erupts into childish giggles again. Despite it, you don’t shush him or urge him to stop. His laughter could fill you with more joy for twenty lifetimes.
He eventually comes up with a new reveling thought, tilting his head and leaning up again so you can look at each other.
“`You ever think about the fact that having sex on a lift is immoral on so many levels?”
Your nose scrunches with a soft chuckle, wincing at the cheesiness of his joke.
“Babe, that means we’re immoral on so many levels.”
Not even a second is spent processing your retort; Hardcase simply shrugs in response with a drifted-away gaze.
“I’m not saying otherwise.”
You purse your lips.
“Hm…”
“Just stating the facts,” he continues, lying down again. “You can come to the conclusions for us.”
“Ah, yes,” you agree, coyly grinning at your next words before they even come out of your mouth. “As always, I’m the brains of this operation.”
Hardcase doesn’t properly respond to you; he only nods softly into your neck as he waits for you to continue.
“Yeah, I think we’re immoral on so many levels.”
Hardcase laughs harder and plants a kiss on your bare shoulder. Then another. He brushes all things obscuring his path to trail more over your collarbone to reach your other shoulder, hands pressed on either side of your arms as he moves. You sigh and smile, the softest laugh leaving your lips. They purse when your mind wanders, trying to devise another joke to continue the conversation.
“...Two clones walk into 79’s,” you begin, voice strained and dwindling with the uncertainty of your joke and where it should lead. “...And one tells the other.” You pause again, eyes drifting away when you feel Hardcase’s perky, awaiting look. “‘You look familiar.’”
Hardcase’s disbelieving cackle is hushed when he presses his face into the pillow, shaking his head.
“Babe, that was so bad,” he says, lifting his chin to speak more clearly. You shrug, eyebrows knitted while you whine out a measly defense.
“I don’t know!” Your response only elicits more laughter. You turn on your side, awaiting for Hardcase to meet your eyes again while you fend for yourself. “It’s too late for this. Just… let me get back to you in the morning.”
Turning on his side and resting his cheek on his forearm, he nods with a perceptive fix of his lips.
“Fair enough,” he leans in further, resting his forehead on yours and shifting closer to your body. “I mean…”
You raise an eyebrow.
“What?”
Hardcase shrugs, impishly grinning in entire admiration.
“There’s potential there for a good joke,” he says.
You nod with full agreement and a smug crook of your eyebrows.
“‘T’s why I said it instead of just shutting up.” Hardcase chuckles deep in his chest. You shove him lightly, just enough to get the message across but not hard enough so your foreheads disconnect. “We can workshop it in the morning.”
With a nod, he tilts his chin up and presses his pursed lips to the space between your eyebrows.
“Definitely,” he mutters against you. “Y’know what else we can workshop?”
You hum, slowly melting further into his touch. His hands have returned, rubbing circles over your collarbone and shoulders, and you keenly sigh as the caresses get deeper.
“I’ve got a great joke about construction I want to tell you, but I’m still working on it.”
In your state, you become susceptible to his silly jokes, and you snort unwisely. It goes to his head very quickly.
“See? I’m funny!” He argues with a victorious glint.
You sigh loudly and roll your eyes.
“I’m just more susceptible in this state.”
“That’s why I tell you at this time.”
You deadpan, frowning and rubbing your eyes with a yawn.
“Is that why you woke me up? To tell me your dumb jokes when I’m more likely to laugh?”
“Yep,” he answers, making a little pop sound at the end of the word. You scrunch your features.
“You’re a dork,” you tell him, adjusting on the bed and ruffling the sheets to go over your shoulders.
“And you’re still here.”
With the objective statement, you melt and nod, blinking with entirely smitten reverence.
“I am,” you assure.
With a soft smile, he leans in and pulls you by your shoulders, encouraging you to cuddle into him. You do enthusiastically, nuzzling your face into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat and steady breathing fills your eyes and becomes the only important thing you could possibly focus on for the rest of his night, your soothing bedtime lullaby.
But then he speaks again.
“What do Gungans put their food in? Jar jars.”
You tilt up, stare blank and deadly.
“That’s it, time for bed.”
And the sound of his laughter instead becomes the loudest noise to soothe you back to sleep.
It's the final countdown for the Rare Clone Fic Exchange, and I realized that several of us might not be ready for the October 31st deadline. Halloween and Kinktober might have taken up a lot of your bandwidth this month, which I totally get, SO I'm extending the deadline.
Please have your fics submitted no later than November 23rd, 2023!
Tagging everyone who hasn't submitted yet below the cut just to make sure it's on your radar!
Cheers, Sev~
