What oneshots would yall like to see? I'm working on my longfic still but wanna get my AO3 interesting before its ready XD.
I'm comfortable writing basically any clone in any situation, but have a heavy preference for Tech and Echo, I tagged all the clones I have already written for before. Anyway, just looking for inspiration for the next one >:3
I love your writing could I request the bad batches reaction to a reader with a service dog? I have mine for my anxiety and cptsd but she also helps with my severe nut allergy.
Firstly: I'm so sorry this took so long! I don't like shifting gears in the middle of an arc, so wanted to finish Breaking Point first, which took much long than I anticipated (as they always do lol). Anyway, I started answering this in classic headcanon format… but it didn’t feel personal enough for the topic. I am such a huge advocate for animals in treatments, therapies, and service jobs like yours, so I wanted to try to do something special for you! If this doesn’t quite fulfill what you were hoping for, feel free to drop another Ask with extra details. Also, I definitely lean more toward first-person narrative than second, but I gave it a shot here!
Unorthodox and Irreplaceable
Warnings: Reader has unspecified emotional/mental health problems requiring the use of a service animal
WC: 2,606
Your heart raced as you stood beside Captain Gregor on the landing platform nestled inside a towering cliff face. It was his idea to add a nat-born to all remaining clone squads as a kind of camouflage when planet-side, and it hadn’t taken much effort to convince you to join. Anything you could do to oppose the tyrannical Empire was worth the risk. Now that the moment was near, however, the undeniable pang of anxiety was relentless.
“How’d the introductions go with the other squads?” You ask, eager for a gentle conversation to help quell your nerves. He gave a small shrug, powerful shoulders shifting almost lazily with the movement, and let out an almost dismissive grunt.
“Some better than others.” He answered honestly, words just hinting at a subtle smirk on his lips. “Had one group argue for over an hour that they weren’t ‘babysitting some kriffing nat-born’.” His eyes rolled dramatically, head shaking at the memory. “Within three rotations, those damn di’kuts were inseparable.” A gentle bump of warm scales against your hand was more than enough to draw you back from the threat of spiraling fears, attention dropping to the calm, grinning face of the massiff beside you. With a small sigh, you rubbed your fingers fondly over your companion’s head in gratitude.
The little trill of a giggle served as a precursor to the distant hum of engines, and you let your eyes scan the narrow entrance to the hidden base moments before the elegant, three-finned craft dove hazardously between the jutting rocks at a speed that wrenched a small gasp from you before you could begin to fight it back.
“That’ll be them!” Gregor stated warmly, and that anxiety threatened to peak into something too near terror. “Don’t worry,” He added, glancing down at you, beaming smile stretched effortlessly across his face, “Looks like a nightmare, but their pilot knows every inch of that ship. You’ll be in good hands!” You tried once more to quiet yourself until Gregor’s almost surprised, “huh” drew your gaze back up, and found yourself tensing as the sight of the young girl behind the controls.
You both watched in morbid curiosity and horror as the transport raced through the suddenly too-narrow hanger before wrenching to an almost complete stop barely a dozen meters away, bringing with it a gust of wind powerful enough to knock you back a half-step. Another compulsive laugh sounded from the man beside you before his face fell back into an expression just shy of stern as the ramp began to lower.
“I assume you lot have a good reason for letting the kid go flying around in my hanger like a kriffing pod-racer?” Despite the subtle crease between his brows, you could hear the fondness in his voice. The first to step from the ship wore his long curls restrained by a red strip of cloth revealing an impressive tattoo that covered the majority of the left side of his face. You knew he was a clone, but something about his stature didn’t quite match the others with that initially unsettling exactness you’d become familiar with.
“Tech said she should get some ‘experience with limited room for maneuverability’.” He answered, eyes rolling slightly as he pointedly focused on the commander, gaze not once flicking toward you as he approached.
“You didn’t say they were bringing a massiff!” A young girl came racing out mere seconds after him, face alight with the glee of youth as puffy, blonde locks bounced with her every movement. A subtle shift of the man’s hand instantly stilled her advance, however.
“Pretty sure you still need to finish your flight check.” He retorted, smoky voice lowering into a rebuttal just hinting at the smirk vainly hidden beneath an unimpressed façade. The girl let out a slow sigh before begrudgingly retracing her steps up the ramp.
“Sergeant Hunter, let me introduce you to your new squad member and alibi.” Gregor continued, seemingly oblivious to the unimpressed frown just drawing a crease between the man’s brows as the Captain gave your name and listed off your skills and accomplishments. “Right… Good luck!” He added with an earnest chuckle before unceremoniously treading away, leaving Hunter and you alone. He offered no response, merely studied you with an unsettling attentiveness.
“I’m going to venture a guess that Captain Gregor failed to mention my plus-one?” There was a subtle sympathy in your words, breaking the silence with an almost weary smirk.
“You’d be correct.” The Sergeant answered stiffly. Drawing a deep breath, you tried to ready yourself for the coming conversation and potential disappointment.
“Well, this is Rena. She’s a trained service massiff, so you don’t have to worry about her causing problems on your ship.” His jaw tensed against his initial objection, but his reluctance was clear, and you hated that sense of validation for your earlier anxiety.
“Trained or not, it’s a small ship.” His answer came too quickly, and you briefly caught your lip between your teeth to bite back the impatient retort. Dealing with people ignorant and uncompromising of both the need for and difference between service animals versus pets was a fight you were no stranger too, and it became more tedious with each assumption and dismissive glance sent your way.
“Sergeant Hunter, I am well aware that Rena and I may not fit whatever expectations you had, but we’re here. So, are you going to give us a chance?” Whatever taste of remorse touched your earlier words was gone, replaced with unapologetic brusqueness. “If not, you’d better hurry if you want to catch Captain Gregor before his next briefing.” If he was going to react with such prejudice before sharing more than a handful of words with you, maybe it would be for the best if they found another civilian to travel with.
Hunter didn’t respond for a long moment, arms tensing around his chest before, with a small sigh, nodding toward his ship and turning back to the ramp. Frozen in a moment of surprise, you could only watch him for a those first few strides before quickly moving to follow him. Driven by the need to prove yourself, you quickly commit his brief tour of the Marauder to memory. When you reached the ladder to the cockpit, you paused, calculating the drop and distance between the rungs. He remained silent, watching you instruct Rena to wait as you descended before allowing her to jump down after you.
“I’m not helping get that thing out of here.” A raspy voice drawled with unmodulated disdain. Looking back, you found sharp eyes watching you with a bored disinterest. He was tall for a clone, with short, nearly silver hair.
“I don’t mind helpin’!” An even bigger man said happily, expression lit with a deep-seated joy utterly unaffected by the web of scars marring the left side of his face. “I’ve been tryin’ to get Hunter to let us get a tooka or somethin’ for ages!” The girl from earlier was seated upfront with two others running through the ship’s systems, but she kept stealing glances over her shoulder at you.
“It’s not a pet, Wrecker.” Hunter stated, voice drawn as though already weary from the coming conversation, and the larger clone, Wrecker, turned back to you with a look of confusion.
“He’s right.” You started calmly, eager for the chance to explain to all of them while there was a moment of quiet. “Rena’s my service animal. She helps me with things like keeping my emotions in check or alerting me to things I’m allergic to.” It was a profound simplification, but, to start, that was generally the best way to make introductions. The man standing behind the pilot’s chair seemed to perk at that, finally turning away from the girl to stare at you from behind orange-tinted goggles.
“Fascinating.” Something about the curiosity in his crisp voice threatened to pull your lips into a small smile. “What cues do they use to alert you?” He asked, and that smile readily broke through, relieved at the lack of immediate disregard from the man.
“It depends on what she’s reacting to.” You explained. “For allergies, she paws at my foot. If it’s more… mental health based, she’ll react based of the severity – anything from nudging my hand to laying on my chest.” You waited tensely for how they’d receive that, knowing it could be a difficult issue to overcome given the nature of their missions, and you weren’t surprised when Hunter was the first to respond.
“Is that going to be a problem when we’re in the field?” His voice quieted, that earlier coldness replaced with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. It made sense, though. If he’d asked it as though he were interrogating you, it would be natural to get defensive. Even if it was feigned solely for the sake of establishing the illusion of concern to lull you into a false sense of comfort, you still found yourself grateful for it.
“No.” You answered confidently. “I’ve spoken in depth with Captain Gregor about it, and he’s assured me that my sensitivities shouldn’t interfere our work.” It was obvious this wouldn’t be the end of that discussion, but the young girl leaned over to whisper something to the pale clone beside her, and the Sergeant struggled to restrain his smirk. You couldn’t hear the response, but her face lit up, attention quickly turning to you as she sprung from the seat.
“Can I say ‘hi’?” She asked sweetly, pausing several steps back with her arms clasped behind her back, and you couldn’t help but melt.
“When she’s working, it’s important not to distract her, but I think we’re pretty safe here, and since you asked so nicely…” You said, drawing out those last words to treasure the excitement blooming on her young face. Letting go of Rena’s harness, you give the release comment granting the massiff permission to interact freely, and, much to her glee, shot straight toward the girl. The squeals of joy as Rena happily lavished her with affectionate kisses managed to bring a grin to even the surly one’s lips, even if only for a moment before he turned away.
The marketplace was just shy of overwhelming; streets bursting with a rich variety of sentients eager to sample and barter for local delicacies you’d never heard of but couldn’t help but find yourself drawn to by the vibrant scents alone. Briefly, you wondered how Hunter was handling the cacophony of sounds and movements and aromas, but he followed a half-dozen strides behind you appearing utterly unfazed by it all. Wrecker and the others were spread out amongst the crowd, each in common clothes in hopes of going unnoticed as they approached their target.
Your goal was to create a distraction if the need arose. That part was happening with or without your intent, however. Something about a “do not pet” sign somehow attracted attention even more than if Rena had worn nothing at all, and you constantly found yourself answering questions and refusing requests to let people’s kids ride her or take a picture. It was exhausting, but your responses were nearly rote by now, and your squad quickly recognized the opportunity it posed.
With the stall owner they’d been after distracted by the small crowd gathered around you, he failed to notice Hunter slip behind him, and then he was gone without anyone noticing. You lingered before a group of overly curious Ithorians as the others vanished, knowing they’d likely only need a few minutes to interrogate the man.
Like clockwork, Echo appeared moments later with Omega in tow, confirming they’d secured whatever data they’d been sent to acquire. You purposefully began the process of excusing yourself to continue “browsing” the market once noticing Crosshair and Tech further ahead, needing only a brief glance behind you to find Wrecker had also returned to the outskirts of the crowd, and carefully avoided looking at the market as the owner reappeared lest you make the mistake of making eye contact with the still disgruntled human.
As far as first missions went, it felt like a brilliant success, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride as everyone steadily reconverged at the Marauder.
“Come on, Cross! Even you gotta admit it!” As usual, you heard Wrecker before you saw him, and found yourself smiling upon finding the towering clone shaking his brother slightly with an arm thrown over his shoulders. Scowling, the sniper pushed uselessly against Wrecker’s side, but the larger man barely moved.
“Fine!” He relented. “The nat-born and the mutt managed not to get us caught. Happy?” He snarled, mood souring further upon noting the toothy grin on your lips.
“They did better than that.” Echo commented. “Even I barely got any weird looks.” It was an… unusual way to help, but no one could argue with the results.
It was late. Really late. Or nauseatingly early. Either way, Rena’s incessant pawing at the medbay door where you’d been granted relative privacy to sleep was… frustrating, at least until enough awareness returned to you to recognize that there was likely some reasoning behind her actions. Movements sluggish with drowsiness, you reluctantly pushed yourself to your feet and opened the door, and found yourself needing to move quickly to follow her as she shot down the main walkway.
Hunter arrived mere seconds after you, both pausing slightly in surprise before turning back to find Rena nudging her way onto Echo’s bunk. Oh. His body was twitching slightly, chest bucking beneath too-quick gasps. Without awaiting permission, the massiff gently rested her fore-paws on the edge of the mattress, stretching her massive head out to rest atop the arc’s chest, lightly at first before gradually lowering her full weight onto him.
When he woke, it was with a slight start, but almost instantly, his arms wrapped firmly around her neck, eyes slamming shut as he fought to steady his breath. Rena wiggled her way fully onto his bed with a subtly that threatened to drag a chuckle from you, but you knew how grounding her presence was, how irreplaceable she would be in freeing the man from whatever nightmare haunted him still.
With a barely audible whisper, you gave the command for her to ‘stay’, shot Hunter a knowing, weary grin, and returned to your room, happy to grant your friend as much time as he needed.
“Thank you.” Echo murmured the next morning. He wasn’t quite willing to meet your eyes, jaw taut as he fought the threat of a shame you knew too well, and you shook your head, letting out a slow breath.
“Wasn’t me.” You replied quietly. “It’s just what she does.” Waiting a beat, you let a smile play with your lips before adding with just a touch of pride, “Did Hunter tell you that Rena beat him to you?” To your glee, he let out a huff of laughter.
It had taken more than three rotations, but no one doubted yours or Rena’s place anymore. Wrecker thrived on bouts of roughhousing. Echo held a silent appreciation that you understood far too intimately. Omega adored her in all the ways only a child can. Hunter recognized both the strategic and, albeit begrudgingly, personal benefits to having the massiff with them. Tech was endlessly fascinated by how quickly she picked up on emotions, and even Crosshair had been caught giving her the occasional pat. It was unorthodox, but they’d all accepted you in their own way, and you couldn’t dismiss how quickly they began to feel like family.
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