One standard year has passed since Chancellor Palpatine's sudden death in a freak accident involving Representative Jar Jar Binks, a crate of Mandalorian Reaper peppers, and one extremely overworked Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard.
Six standard months have passed since the Galactic Senate overwhelmingly approved the Clone Rights and Personhood Act, co-sponsored by Senators Amidala and Chuchi and endorsed by Chancellor Organa himself.
The Clone Wars have ended, and with their legal status secured, the clone troopers look to the future, to the things they never thought they would be able to have. Homes. Families. Love.
But without the support systems and social structures available to natborns, many troopers have difficulty finding meaningful connections.
Enter Right to Love Matchmaking Service: a not-for-profit organization dedicated to helping clone troopers find the loves of their lives.
Find your match today!
Submission Guidelines | AO3 Collection | FAQ
Masterlist will be updated as submissions are received. Be sure to check our official AO3 collection for fics that aren't cross-posted to Tumblr!
đ denotes mature content
Shout-out to @stormyblue90 for writing "Don't Fear the Reaper," which is not set in this AU, but it inspired the method of Palpatine's death. We couldn't have done it without you!
501st Legion
ARC Trooper Fives
"An Awkward Kind of Charm," by @secondaryrealm AKA @deejadabbles
"Old Flames," by @banksys-rat
Captain Rex
"Date Night Pt 1," by @littlemissmanga
"Don't Go Breaking My Heart Part 1" by @sunshinesdaydream
"Don't Go Breaking My Heart Part 2," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Don't Go Breaking My Heart Part 3," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Don't Go Breaking My Heart Part 4," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Third Time's the Charm," by @starrylothcat
Clone Veteran Tai (from Kenobi series)
"For the Heart," by @imarvelatthestars
Clone Trooper Tup
"Seeking Something Simpler," by @arcsimper5
"My Beautiful Rose," by @cloneloverrrrr đ
Clone Trooper Hardcase
"The Power of Love," by @sunshinesdaydream
"The Power of Love Part 2," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Blood Moon Rising," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Of Frogs and Clones," by @the-bad-batch-baroness
Clone Trooper Dogma
"Date Night Pt 3," by @littlemissmanga
212th Attack Battalion
Marshal Commander Cody
"Date night Pt. 2," by @littlemissmanga đ
Lieutenant Waxer
"The Sixth Language (part 1)," by @dystopicjumpsuit
"The Sixth Language (part 2)," by @dystopicjumpsuit
"The Sixth Language (part 3)," by @dystopicjumpsuit đ
"The Sixth Language (part 4)," by @dystopicjumpsuit đ
"The Sixth Language (epilogue)," by @dystopicjumpsuit
The Wolfpack/104th Battalion
Commander Wolffe
"the two of us (against the world)," by @wolffegirlsunite
"As Sweet As Sugar," by @wings-and-beskar
"As Sweet As Sugar, Part 2," by @wings-and-beskar
"You're Mine, Mesh'la," by @cloneloverrrrr đ
41st Elite Corps
91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps
Marshal Commander Neyo
"The Blacklist," by @blueink-bluesoul
"Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo," by @dystopicjumpsuit đ
21st Nova Corps
327th Star Corps
The Bad Batch
Echo
"The Beauty In All, Part One," by @secondaryrealm AKA @deejadabbles
"The Beauty In All, Part Two," by @secondaryrealm AKA @deejadabbles
Crosshair
"Don't Say 'I Told You So,'" by @ghostofskywalker
"Take a Chance (Part 1)," by @multi-fan-dom-madness
"Take a Chance (Part 2)," by @multi-fan-dom-madness
Wrecker
"Happy Together," by @sunshinesdaydream
"Happy Together part 2," by @sunshinesdaydream
The Coruscant Guard
Commander Thorn
"The Long Way Home, Part 1," by @blueink-bluesoul
Marshal Commander Fox
"One Call Away - pt. 1," by @blueink-bluesoul
Republic Commandos
Other Clones
"I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends," by @sunshinesdaydream
Commander Mayday
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 1," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 2," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 3," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit đ
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 4," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit đ
Hi folks! Before we open for submissions, we have a little housekeeping. If you'd like to submit to our page, please keep in mind the following guidelines:
We accept fics of all ratings, from general audiences to explicit. Because of this, we ask that you do not submit work if you are under the age of majority in your country.
Submissions should have a clear link to the Matchmaking AU. The matchmaking process does not have to be the focus of the work, but please do include a reference to RTL Matchmaking and abide by the other AU elements set up in our Masterlist introduction (i.e., Palpatine is dead and the war is over; clones have rights).
Please only submit your own work.
When submitting your fic, please include the following information: Pairing, Rating, Word Count, and any applicable Content Warnings.
Titles are optional but encouraged; they will help readers find your work in our masterlist.
Please be respectful and inclusive of diverse content.
To submit your fic, please post to your own blog and tag @tcwmatchmakingau. We will then reblog your fic and add it to our masterlist. Our official tags are #tcw matchmaking au and #clone matchmaking au; we recommend tagging your fic with these as well as any character and pairing tags for maximum visibility. Note: Notifications on this blog are sporadic, so we recommend sending an ask with a link to your fic as well; that way, if we don't receive the tag notification, we still know you've posted a fic.
That's all for now! If our guidelines change in the future, we will update this post as well as our submission form.
Changelog below the cut.
20 Aug. 2025
Added guideline 7.
Logic: Notifications for fics that are submitted through our blog submission form go to the tcwmatchmakingau account instead of to the original authors. We want the creators to be able to see all the love on their fics and art, so we've changed our submission guidelines.
Friends, in light of recent renewed interest in the Right to Love TCW Matchmaking AU, we've updated our guidelines to streamline and improve the submission process. If you're interested in being featured in the AU, submitting a fic is easier than ever!
Instead of finishing my WIP or getting some sleep, I thought I'd work on making a mock-up of an RTL business card for @tcwmatchmakingau đ
Disclaimer: this is by no means The Official version, just my take on what an RTL business card might look like... it's decidedly not very sci-fi and definitely looks like it was made with a free Canva account and very little sleep.
Front:
Back:
There might be another version of this with space for the Matchmaker's name/signature, but I couldn't get it to work in a way I liked... maybe someone else might have better luck!
The address was a bit of an arbitrary place holder at first, but in the end I liked it. I think the Clones and their future should absolutely be central and important, so RTL deserves an equally central and important headquarters location.
I initially wanted the business card to be a very simple clear plastic with the name and address etched into it...but that idea was beyond my artistic abilities. Then I thought the cards would look great if they were made of metal, and would still fit the futuristic vibe I wanted. I still love the idea but to be honest, what I made ended up looking quite boring.
I'm happy with this "final" version, as I think it captures the vibe of RTL pretty well: hopeful and positive, and helping to build a future for those seeking to make a connection.
This took far too long (curse you ADHD Executive Dysfunction), but hereâs a fic based on my 501st Spice Tolerance polls!
Summary: Hardcase acquires a bunch of âcontrabandâ in the form of the galaxyâs spiciest peppers. Naturally, he must challenge his brothers to a gameâŠ
Warnings: Only a reference to vomiting near the end, but nothing graphic.
OMG I just found out you made a reference to my fic in your pinned post, involving Mandalorian Reaper Peppers, my own little creation. I'm not mad at all, I am ECSTATIC you made that reference and linked my fic THANK YOU!
đ
It was our mistake for not tagging you in the post! We've updated the masterlist to tag your blog in addition to the link we previously shared. We loved your fic and are so happy you shared it!
W/C: 4,025 (literally longer than the other 3 parts combined. Sorry that's what took so long!)
Summary: No O66 AU. Right to Love Matchmaking is a service to help clone troopers assimilate into civvie society and kick start their romantic lives following the reveal of Palpatine as a sith and the end of the Galactic Civil War. Dogma, reassigned to the 501st but dealing with lingering trauma from Umbara, never intended to utilize their services, committing himself to being the perfect solider he feels he failed to be before. That is, until Captain Rex intervenes, introducing the reluctant trooper to another stubborn force of nature: Matchmaker Yen Ori'ken.
Date Night: Part 1 (Rex x Reader), Part 2 (Cody x Reader), Part 3 (Dogma x F!OC. Only Part 3 needed to understand Pt 4).
Right to Love AU Page
It was the best date she had ever been on.
And she hated herself for enjoying it.
Yen had lost objectivity. The very trap she knew to avoid, the pitfall over which she had built a scaffolding of professionalism to protect against. Guilt gnawed at her stomach, making it churn uncomfortably as she looked through another batch of profiles.
And as much as she wanted to follow her kneejerk reaction and blame Daria for the hair-brained idea to go on a date with a client, Yen knew the fault lay solely within herself.
And possibly a little with Dogma.
It was insidious, just a tiny flutter at the way he had used his body to help her move through the crowd. It was a small gesture, barely anything. Something sheâd smile knowingly at if a client had mentioned it to her after one of their own dates.
But no one had ever done anything like that for her. Not once. Not even on a real first date. In fact, looking back on her, admittedly sparce, dating history, Yen couldnât think of a single previous boyfriend who had ever done anything remotely chivalrous.
No one whoâs gentle hand and quiet guidance made her ever feel so ⊠precious. Worth the effort of protection.
Honestly, if any had, she probably would have looked at them as if they had grown another limb. She never liked being treated as if she were incompetent, unable to handle herself without assistance in public.
But with Dogma, it didnât feel like that at all.
A slow, sweet heat crawled over the tops of her cheeks as she remembered the warmth of his body against hers. He didnât steer her or make a show of his actions. He just silently helped her, giving her a little more space in the crush of bodies, a little more room to move comfortably. His hand on her back wasnât controlling. It was warm and gentle, a soothing reassurance.
Thatâs all. Thatâs it. But the kind consideration rocked her deep. The fact that she knew that Dogma had no expectations of her beyond her doing her job made the warm feeling settle in Yenâs core.
She tried to ignore it at first, but as the night continued, it only got worse. Relieved of the propriety of their previously formal interactions and released from expectations himself, Dogma bloomed before her, revealing his dry humor and kind heart in between performances.
A gentle man who had wrapped himself in steel to keep himself and others safe.
Yen now understood why all those women were so broken hearted over failing to secure a second date. Â For one brief night, all of that was focused on her.
And she hated how much she wanted it to happen again.
Because it couldnât. She knew that. He was her client and she promised to do right by him. Her professionalism demanded it and Dogma deserved nothing less.
Of course, that was her other problem.
It had been two weeks since their faux date and Dogma was still refusing to meet anyone for a second time, forcing Yen to sort through even more potential matches for him than before, hating that the next one she reaches out to could be the reason she will cut ties with Dogma.
Worse, she hated how the jealousy settled thick and heavy in her gut. It was pulling her down and with each profile she sent, she could feel it constricting within her.
She needed to purge it to regain some semblance of sanity. Usually, an issue of this caliber would have her trudging into Dariaâs office for her out-of-the-box ideas that are usually just crazy enough to work.
But not this time. Not if it meant admitting to the soft flutter that was slowly turning to bitterness inside her.
And, her initial reaction aside, she didnât want Dar taking any of this on her own shoulders.
Wait a minute! Thatâs it!
The solution she needed was staring her right in the face! She may not be able to control her little crush, but that doesnât mean she couldnât still uphold her commitment to her profession and to Dogma.
With renewed optimism quieting the churn of her nerves, if only a little, Yen composed one more message.
Her writing always came across more formal than she really spoke. Or maybe it was her tone that softened the words to his ears when he heard her directly.
But Dogma could tell even through the text that Yen was angry when she wrote the comm message. And he didnât blame her.
Sitting on his bed in the barracks on Coruscant, Dogma ran a hand through his regulation-cut hair, for once uncaring how a few errant curls escaped the careful style. Ever since he realized his feelings for her, he was stuck. He was still unable to connect with any of his dates, but Yenâs next-day questioning morphed from feeling supportive to invasive, probing as if she could sense he was hiding something.
He could tell she was growing more frustrated with his non-answers.
The thought made his chest tighten uncomfortably. He never wanted to disappoint her. But he couldnât â wouldnât â lie to her or these other women and pull them all into his mess.
But youâll lie to keep them out of it, he thought bitterly.
âDamn another in-person meeting?â Fivesâ voice rang right in his ear.
âKriff, Fives! Havenât you heard itâs rude to read other peopleâs comms?â Dogma growled.
His brother ignored his righteous indignation. âI know finding someone whoâll accept the planet-sized stick up your ass is a tall order, but I never would have thought Yen would struggle this much.â
âKark off, shaâbuir.â
Fivesâ hand came down hard on his shoulder and while Dogma knew his brotherâs teasing was well-intended, he couldnât handle the unique combination of arrogance and optimism that fueled the ARC trooper. With a shrug, he flung it off, and Fives pulled back, hands in front of him in surrender.
âSorry, vod. Just trying to help lighten the mood.â
âOnly you are used to being flattered by insults, Fives,â Tup said, no bite in his voice as he entered the barracks. âBut seriously, Dogma, you look like youâve just been assigned a suicide mission. I know this part is a lot to handle, but I think youâre thinking too hard. Yen will find someone. Trust her and the process and youâll get through it.â
He could feel the truth bubbling up inside him, shifting his stomach uncomfortably as it rose up his throat.
âNo, I wonât.â
It was a single drop of relief. Nowhere near satisfying ⊠and enough to make him need more.
âSure you will,â Fives assured, sincerity filling his tone despite his flippant delivery.
Tup rolled his eyes at the older trooper before sitting next to his squad mate. âHeâs right, you know. Right to Love has had great success. Iâm not as familiar with Yen, but I canât imagine anyone else could have possibly helped Fives.â
âHey!â
âOh, go be insulted by something you didnât say first,â Tup teased before turning back to Dogma. âBut he is right. A few more dates and youâll find someone whoâs right for you.â
Dogma shook his head as it fell forward into his hands. âYou donât understand.â He felt Tupâs hand resting on his back, encouraging him without words. âI ⊠I have found someone I connected with.â
âThatâs great!â Tupâs cheer was short-lived as he saw Dogmaâs grim expression didnât budge. âBut âŠ?â
With a sigh, Dogma steeled himself against his brothersâ reaction. âBut itâs Yen.â
Fives scoffed. âI know sheâs tough as nails, but donât take it personally. Sheâll be pissed about the paperwork if you realized you liked a girl after you passed more than sheâll be put off by your indecision.â
âNo, you nerfherder.â Dogma spat, unable to spare Fives any more patience. âItâs Yen. The person I connected with is Yen. When we went on our fake date, it ⊠it just hit me.â
Both his brothers blinked owlishly in response, their twin expressions of surprise almost funny. But Dogma felt any tinge of humor fade the longer they stood there in silence. He dropped their gaze, head hanging in shame.
Tupâs hand moved up to his shoulder, gripping gently yet firmly to pull his brother up. âYouâre saying that like itâs a bad thing.â
âOf course itâs a bad thing. I canât tell her about it, so Iâm stuck going on dates I donât want and know will fail, and now I can feel her getting frustrated as well. Iâm lying to everyone and I canât keep it up anymore!â
âWhy do you have to?â Tup asked gently.
âYeah, no reason why you canât just tell Yen how you feel,â Fives added. âItâs not like itâs against regulations anymore.â
âNo.â Dogma shook his head firmly. âAbsolutely not. Sheâs been nothing but kind and professional through everything. And this? This is highly unprofessional. I canât even imagine how sheâd react to a client crossing that kind of boundary with her.â
âUnless she wants you, too.â
âShe doesnât.â
âYou know that for sure?â
âNo, but âŠâ
âThen itâs a good thing youâre oriâvod is an ARC! Advanced Reconnaissance Trooper, remember? Iâll do some sleuthing and â
âNot even over my dead body, Fives. I donât want you within ten feet of this situation.â
âI have to agree with him here,â Tup shrugs softly. âThis is for Dogma to sort out on his own.â He turned back to Dogma then. âBut you should still tell her. You donât know for sure. So she could return your feelings. And even if she doesnât, then at least you wonât be stuck in limbo like this.â
The option did sound tempting, even if the shadow of Yenâs rejection chilled him to the bone.
But the thought that really frightened him was one of her saying yes. Like his confession, he could feel his self-doubt bubbling up and despite every instinct to keep it hidden, Dogma just didnât have the fight left in him. Not in front of his brothers.
His voice was quiet, subdued as he gave words to the thoughts that polluted his mind. âBut Iâm defective. Why would she want someone like me when she could choose anyone else?â
âWhat!?â
Fives dropped to rest a knee on the bed on Dogmaâs other side, his hand pulling him back and forcing him to meet his gaze.
âIn what galaxy are you defective?â
âIn the one where I was willing to let you get shot, where I executed a general, where I was literally almost decommissioned for being defective.â
âBut you werenât! Because youâre not!â
âI am!â The shout rang through the barracks, and even the reverberating echoes didnât soften it. âI always have been.â
âNo, Dogma, youâre not.â Tupâs hand came to rest on Dogmaâs shoulder just as gently as his words had. âYouâre uptight, anxious, and annoyingly strict at times. You over-analyze everything and are so obnoxious when things donât go the way you want them to.
âYou have a lot of flaws, brother, but theyâre not defects.â
Before Dogma could refute anything, Fives chimed in.
âMore than that, youâre also loyal to a fault. You bend over backwards for others just because itâs the right thing to do. Youâre patient and kind and solid in a tight spot and Iâm proud to fight beside you and call you my brother.
âYou went against the regs on Umbara because the regs were wrong. They never were written for a situation where we couldnât trust our leaders. And that was by design. The Kaminoans may have considered your actions there defective, but we donât. Weâre all here because you put an end to Krell, and thatâs the only story I need to know.â
Fives moved to kneel in front of him, forcing Dogma to meet his gaze. And for once, he could see no tease or mirth at all in his brotherâs eyes.
âI have a feeling Yen will see it that way, too.â
Dogmaâs heart shook his ribs. This â seeing the battle ahead and being the one who needs to start it â was worse than sitting in that cell on the Resolute after Umbara. At least there, all he had to do was wait for his fate.
But the chance for an outcome he could never have conceived of lay on the other side. And the small, selfish part of his soul he never acknowledged refused to let him leave this alone.
And if it did, his brothers wouldnât.
So now, everything rested on how well he executed his plan. Not that it was much of one. But it was the best he could do.
With one last calming breath â that did little to actually calm him â Dogma made his way to the table, clearing his throat as he pulled out his chair to announce himself.
 âDogma!â Yenâs head popped up, surprise clear on her face as he sat. He knew his experience with things that could be considered âadorableâ was close to non-existent, but there was no other way to quantify her expression. He let himself escape into that soft flutter for just a moment before reining it in.
He offered a sheepish smile in return. âSorry, Ma- Yen. I didnât mean to startle you.â
âNo worries. Itâs good to see you.â Yenâs small answering smile sent a spark of delight up the back of Dogmaâs skull.
âLikewise.â
As Yen shifted in her seat, her sweet smile slipped away, and Dogma steeled himself as her professional persona took over.
âThank you for meeting me again. I have to stay, Iâm at a loss here and I donât like it.â For once, Yen didnât meet his gaze as she spoke, and Dogma found himself anticipating catching her eyes again. But each moment that past left him waiting.
âYouâre perfectly wonderful to be around â which all your dates have said and I confirmed myself. Iâd even say youâre quite the catch. And I know the matches I picked would relate well to you in their own ways. But youâve been so tight-lipped about your experience on these dates that itâs making my job hard. I thought maybe an in-person vent session would help illuminate the situation. So what happened?â
Dogmaâs gaze fell to his place setting. He liked that Yen didnât beat around the push or press for small talk. He liked even more to hear her praise. But he didnât expect her to rip the bacta patch off at the gate and it still stung.
He looked back up, finally able to meet Yenâs eyes and confess his sins ⊠only for his plan, his prepared speech to fly out of his head the moment her bright, intense eyes locked on his.
Say. Something!
But as the seconds ticked by in silence, Yenâs lips pursed into what Dogma could only call a scowl only had the beast of his worry claw harder in his stomach. Bile bubbled, and it took all his strength not to retch.
âLook, I donât want to pressure you. But you canât expect a campaign to be successful with shoddy intel, right? Well, thatâs where I am right now. Finding you a partner is my campaign, and right now Iâm planning a battle strategy blind since I donât know why past attempts didnât pan out.â
âNo! No, itâs not you,â Dogma shakes his head. Stars, he was stupid. He expected her to see everything up until this point as his fault, his failure. He should have realized sheâd mistake it for the other way around. Â
Yen softened and reached out to rest her hand on his, and Dogma took no more than a second to thank the Force that Tup had convinced him to wear his civvies. Without his gloves, he could feel the soft warmth of her skin against his.
âThank you for saying that. But your happiness is my goal, and Iâm not seeing happy yet.â She paused then, clearly measuring her next words carefully. âDo I need to blacklist any of your dates?â
âWhat!?â
She looked positively shocked by his alarm, eyes wide as she sat back. âOf course. If anyoney did something inappropriate or that made you uncomfortable, then theyâre not clients we can continue a relationship with. For everyoneâs safety,â she explained.
âNo, no they didnât do anything like that. Please donât kick them out.â
âOK.â Yen paused and collected herself. But hands that pulled back toward her body to press against the side of the table told a different story than her stoic exterior. Dogma focused on her hands, on that little display of nerves, feeling his own soar in step. âWell, if everything has been above board, then itâs likely that I am not the best matchmaker for you. It doesnât happen often, but we do have procedures in place for situations like this.
The weight in his heart he had been battling since he first got Yenâs comm finally won out. He felt it sink into the pit of his stomach as his chest tightened. Felt his blood cooling in his veins.
He survived a leap of faith once. Could he be lucky twice?
Yen opened her mouth to continue, but Dogma spoke over her, silencing her in a panicked rush. âWhat if I said I donât want another random date?â
Her mouth hung open, confusion bleeding into her expression as her head tiled to the side, as if a different angle would reveal more to her. But her eyes remained sharp and steady on his.
âRandom is sort of the nature of the game.â she said, the furrow in her brow deepening.
âNot ⊠not if you say yes when I ask you on another date. A-A real one this time.â
The words hung heavy in the air. The following silence left him with nothing. Even her reaction left Dogma in limbo.
Yen sat across from him, looking neither joyful or repulsed. Rather her expression looked for all the galaxy like he just spoke an unknown language. Her head tilted to the side, eyebrows pinched together and her eyes bore into his, and he was sure she was looking into his very core.
It was unsettling and invasive and had every hair on his body standing at attention. But just like that first night, he wanted it. He craved it. For all the discomfort, there was a pleasure in having her focus so intensely on him. On only him.
Dogma wanted her to see into his depths and keep looking at him like he was someone worth seeing.
Finally, her voice shattered the silence, though it was softer than he had ever heard her, forcing him to lean in just to catch it. âYou want to go on a date with me?â
He was sure the couple at the next table could hear him swallow, almost choking on his adrenaline as he nodded.
With a sigh, Yen leaned back into her chair before nodding as well. âWell, that changes things. Alright. Iâll need you to submit an official letter stating youâre terminating your previous agreement with Right to Love.â
And just like that, cold reality came crashing down on him. He imagined this is what being sucked into space without a kit felt like. Dogma felt the cracks forming and redoubled his efforts to keep his posture and face from crumbling.
Then, like a dunk in a bacta tank, Yen grabbed onto his hands and held them across the table.
âNo! No, Dogma, not like that!â Her eyes were shining and wide with more emotion than heâd ever seen. A weakness in her façade finally showing itself and he devoured it hungrily, possessively indulging on her desperation. âWe need to formally end our professional relationship before I can agree to a second date.â
âOh,â he said as if it were the simplest thing in the galaxy. It was all he was capable of as the panic and pain and anxiety drained from his body slowly, his brain struggling to keep up and accept what was happening.
âYeah. Oh.â Yen laughed, squeezing his hands in hers. âI think we both came here with the same goal. Though my plan was a little more, shall we say, stealthy.â
âWhat do you mean?â
A twisted smile on her lips had his hard twisting itself to match. âI was going to officially transfer your management to a colleague, so when she recommended me as a match, it would be more ⊠acceptable.â
âI didnât realize not dating was a condition of your employment. Are you going to get in trouble for tonight?â
âNo, not at all. It isnât a condition, just frowned upon. Itâs ⊠just âŠâ She pursed her lips, clearly struggling with her words and Dogma grew even more relaxed as he watched her. âItâs an ethical sticking point for me. It wouldnât feel right otherwise, like Iâd be taking advantage of you.â
The thought that she either would ever or could ever force him into anything forced a sharp bark of laughter from him as Dogma finally felt his trepidation melt away. Â
It was strange, this new ⊠lightness? Good, though. Very good. Dogma wasnât sure how to describe the lack of fear, of feeling like it was constantly on the back foot. But he didnât need to. He reveled in it regardless.
âHey, donât you laugh! I take my job seriously. And my grandmother would kill me if I didnât uphold professional standards!â
âDonât worry, then,â he said, still chuckling. âIâll wait until your grandmother is comfortable with you going on a second date with a former client.â
His grin deepened as Yenâs mouth dropped open. Sitting back, she stared at him, shaking her head but never letting go of his hands. âDid ⊠did you just tease me about having a reasonable boundary between my personal and professional lives?â
âNot at all. I think thatâs perfectly reasonable. Very smart, in fact.â Emboldened, Dogma twisted his wrist to run the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. âIâm teasing you about using your grandmother to intimidate me into behaving.â
Yen laughed, a small, light thing that Dogma wanted to hear again. And again. Heâd have to get that paperwork together as soon as he returned to the barracks.
âWell, that isnât the only reason I need that letter, you know.â
âNo?â
âI need it to delete your file officially. Donât want any of my colleagues finding you a cute date to tempt you away.â
He lifted a hand to her cheek, cradling it gently. âYou couldnât even find someone who could tempt me into a second date. Your colleagues could search for a century and never find someone who could pull me away from you.â
A small hand cupped the back of his, holding it to Yenâs face as she turned to press the smallest kiss to his palm, sending a soul-deep shiver through Dogma that he didnât even try to hide. Her smile unfurled against his skin and he realized heâd likely need to get used to that feeling with her.
âWalk me home?â she asked softly.
âIt would be my honor.â
A/N: Date Night was my first planned multi-chapter story and the longest story that I have ever officially finished! While I wish I could have gotten this out sooner, I'm so thrilled I was able to close this chapter (literally!). I'll still write about Yen and Dogma in the future, but their origin AU is over.
My taglist sign up sheet is still broken (I AM SO SORRY but I'm gonna blame my husband. My tech skills are blowing on an N64 cartridge to make it work and he has an IT degree and he said he'd help me) so just message me if you want to be added.
Pairing: Rex x F!Reader
Rating: SFW
Summary: Rex meets the four year old daughter of the woman he met through Right to Love (@tcwmatchmakingau mentioned, but not part of)
Warnings: None
Word Count :1133
Graphic Header and Dividers by:@sunshinesdaydream (me)
Rex had let you go on about your daughter, Eryka. You had felt bad spending time on your dates going on about her. But he had encouraged it, asking about how she was doing. He remembered the things going on in her life just as he did yours. Â
âMeshâla, I knew from the start you have Eryka. Sheâs part of your life, and since I hope to be too, I also hope to be part of hers,â he told you two weeks in.Â
About a month after you first met him through the Right to Love matchmaking service, you had decided that it was time for the two of them to meet. Â
Rather past time. The whole point in the matchmaking service was to find the right long term partner. So you asked him to meet the two of you for dinner. Unfortunately he was sent on an emergency deployment the next morning.
So you used the time he was gone to tell your four year old about Rex. Immediately it was the same thing the other way around. She had pouted when you had insisted she wait and meet him in person instead of over holocall. You also didnât tell her that he agreed that they should wait for an in person introduction. Â
Now, when he was due to arrive any minute, you were just finishing her hair. âMama? Can I call him Captain? Or do I call him Rex?â
âI think that is something you should ask him. But which would you be most okay with?â you ask.
âCaptain. It's weird calling big people by their name unless I say mister first,â she answers, decisively.Â
âIâm sure he will think thatâs absolutely fine then,â you assure her. âBut you can ask to be sure,â
âOkay,â she answers. The chime sounded that he had gotten to your door and Eryka bolted out from under your hands faster than you could blink.Â
âCan I open it?â Her hand reaches for the panel by the door. âHe is only kind of a stranger because you know him, Mama,â Â
âYou can open the door for Rex, thatâs fine,â you sigh.Â
With a grin she pushes the button and the door slid open. Face to face with each other they both pause. Then Rex took a knee, getting on her level.Â
âHello, Eryka, itâs nice to finally meet youâ he says, offering his hand.Â
You have to stifle a laugh when your precocious daughter responds in her best âtea partyâ manners. She reaches with her small hand to shake his and said, âPleased to meet you sir, may I call you Captain?â
He gently takes her hand and shakes it. With a serious, but pleasant expression, he responds âIf you would like,â
âYes, pleaseâ She answers.
âWhen I was planetside on my last mission I found this in a shop. Thought you might like it,â Rex offers a white plush fathier.Â
With that she breaks character. Erykaâs eyes went wide and she gasps. With a bright smile, he sets the stuffed animal in her arms.Â
âOh, thank you!â She squeals, hugging the toy close.
âYouâre welcome,â Rex answers before getting to his feet. âAnd this is for your mom,â he hands you a small shimersilk pouch. Out of it tumbles a silvery charm bracelet with a crystal fathier charm.Â
âItâs beautiful, thank you,â you breathe as he helps you with the clasp on your wrist.Â
âArenât you going to give him a kiss, Mama? The princess in the stories gives the prince a kiss,â Eryka asks, causing both of you to freeze. This was not something that had occurred to either of you to discuss.
âOh! Youâre being shy!â She covers her face with the stuffed animal and spins around to face the other way. ââKay, not looking!â Her voice is muffled.Â
You bite your lip to prevent the giggle from escaping, and it was clear Rex was restraining his own laugh. You go up on your toes to give him a soft kiss. âThank you, and welcome back,â you murmur.Â
Rex leans in and gives you a firmer, longer lasting kiss. âItâs good to be back, ner Cyare,â he answers.Â
Eryka clears her throat dramatically and Rex grins at you before doing the same and saying, âRight, are we ready to go?â
Over dinner the two of them ask all the questions they had asked you and more. By the time you were eating dessert he had learned everything about her preschool and she knew the names of his closest brothers and enough about boloball that she asked him to teach her.Â
As you made your way home Eryka was visibly wilting, swaying on her feet. You start to pick her up to carry her the rest of the way. But his hand is on your shoulder. âAllow me?â He asks.Â
You nod in response and he addresses Eryka. âAdâika, is it okay if I carry you home? You look very tired.â
She reaches up for him and he scoops her up. She immediately lays her head against him and you both thought she had passed out until she says, sleepilyâCaptain?â
âYes, adâika?â He answers.
âWhatâs that word?â She mumbles.Â
âIt means little one in mandoâa, a language my brothers and I speak,â he explains.Â
Erykaâs head pops up immediately, clearly half asleep she says, âteach me, please?â
He laughs quietly, âof course, but another day,â
âMmmkay,â she mumbles as she snuggled against him. Â
Rex then took your hand with his free one, lacing his fingers with yours, and continued back to your apartment in quiet conversation with you.Â
Once to your home he follows you to Erykaâs room. While you pulled a nightgown out of the drawer for her he laid her gently on her bed, cradling her head as if she was a newborn, and took her shoes off of her.  When you pull her dress off he has her nightgown ready to go on over her head, disturbing her as little as possible. He waits next to you as you cover her with her blanket and quietly follows you out of the room.Â
When you both are away from the door to her room he pulls you into a tight embrace, pressing his face to your neck. You pull back just enough to capture his lips and give him a proper welcome home kiss.Â
âWill you stay tonight?â you ask him.
âCanât, have a post mission inspection tomorrow morning,â he strokes your cheek while he answers. âIf you both want to meet me in the park tomorrow afternoon,â
âWe can make dinner after,â you continue, smiling up at him. âMaybe you can stay then?â
Cradling your face in his hands, he gives you a gentle kiss, âSounds like a good plan,â
Summary: It's the clone's last night in the barracks together as soldiers and Hardcase drinks a mysterious liquid from Jesse's duffle that turns him into a frog. With the help of his brothers and the Right To Love Matchmaking service, they work against the clock to find him "true love's kiss" and turn him back into a human.
Tags & Warnings: matchmaking!au, fluff, humor, strange magic, clone shenanigans, unconventional love story, dialogue heavy
Word Count: 3.6k
Author's Note: My first entry for the @tcwmatchmakingau! This series is pure fun and ridiculousness. There's no angst, no hurt, no underlying themes, and no deep meanings. Only utter nonsense. Reader and RTL are not in the first chapter. I know I have other series to finish, but I needed to cross off another bingo square first đ As always, please enjoy đ
@clonexreaderbingo Square: Mystery
Chapter 1
The Clone Wars have finally drawn to a close, leaving the remaining clones in a precarious spot of facing the unknown civilian life before them. To aid in their assimilation, the senate passed legislation to give clones official citizenship status, government subsidized housing, a credit stipend, and help with job placement. Tonight is their last night sleeping in the barracks and as they pack their belongings and prepare for life outside of the GAR, things get a little hectic.
âWhat do you think itâs going to be like?â Jesse asks while pulling things out of his overstuffed duffle.
âDunno,â Hardcase answers as he stares at the bunk above him, hands laced behind his head. His duffle doesnât have much in it, so he finished packing a while ago.
âI bet itâs going to be fun,â Fives smiles while throwing his things haphazardly into his duffle. âNo rules, no regulations, no chain of command.â
Echo stops folding his blacks and grimaces at the thought. âThat sounds awful.â
âLighten up,â Tup playfully punches Echoâs shoulder. âWe can finally do whatever we want.â
âIâm with Echo,â Dogma adds. âA bunch of people doing whatever they want sounds chaotic. Whereâs the order?â
âWe make our own order,â Kix chimes in. âWe follow the laws and do the right thing. Like weâve always done.â
âWhat if we mess up?â Echo wonders, a twinge of apprehension in his voice. âI donât want to be court-martialed on day one.â
âYou canât be court-martialed if youâre a civilian,â Fives chuckles. âBut if you do mess up⊠Then Fox will get you!â Fives jumps on Echoâs back for dramatic effect.
Echo groans and pushes Fives off while the rest of the group laughs.
âAs long as we stick together, weâll be fine,â Jesse reassures.
Murmurs of agreements resound through the barracks and they resume organizing what little belongings they have.
Hardcase rolls onto his side and watches Jesse attempt to pack his duffle bag so that the zipper will close. Heâs still unsure how Jesse accumulated so much junk over the past few years. The ARC has a souvenir from almost every planet heâs ever been on. Even after everyone else is done packing, Jesse is still sifting through his things, picking which ones to take with him and which ones to leave behind. He pulls out a bottle of green liquid and places it on the ground.
âWhatâs that?â Hardcase asks while pointing at the bottle.
âIâm not sure,â Jesse answers. He picks up the bottle and inspects it for a second before setting it back down. âIt was given to me by a local at the beginning of the war. I must have forgotten about it.â
âIs it alcohol?â Hardcase asks curiously. He sits up in his bunk and grabs the bottle off the floor, tilting it from side to side to watch the strange liquid slosh around.
âMaybe,â Jesse shrugs. âI couldnât understand the local language and I never opened it to try it.â
Hardcase wonders what it could be as he continues to turn the bottle in different directions, completely mesmerized by its shimmering contents. âCan I drink it?â
âI donât see why not,â Jesse says.
âI donât think thatâs a good idea,â Kix warns. He swipes the bottle from Hardcaseâs hands.
âHey,â Hardcase pouts. He sits back down on his bunk and crosses his arms. âThatâs mine.â
âTechnicallyââ
âYou donât know whatâs in it,â Kix interrupts Jesseâs rebuttal to give a warning. âIt could be poisonous.â
âWe wonât know that unless we try it,â Hardcase argues.
âListen,â Kix sighs. âWeâre one night away from being free men. Iâm not going to let a bottle of suspicious liquid ruin that for you.â
âIsnât that my choice now?â Hardcase questions.
âNot until 05:00,â Rex chimes in. Upon hearing their captain's voice, all of the Torrent Company stops what theyâre doing and stands to attention.
In preparation for their official discharge from the GAR, Rex spent the entire day with the senate and a specialized CCL (civilian clone liaison) to make sure that his menâs transition was taken care of and that it would be as smooth as possible. He meticulously worked each cloneâs case with the CCL to approve their housing, their new identichips, and their credit stipends. It was an exhausting process, but his signature was required on every form in the assimilation packets.
âAt ease men,â Rex says.
âSo,â Fives begins with anticipation. âWhatâs the word?â
Rex smiles and reveals a stack of identichips. âItâs official.â
Rex walks around to each one of his men and hands them their new identichip. The clones take them eagerly and marvel with wonder at the digital cards with their chosen names and faces inscribed on them. Not a CT number in sight. The excitement in the room is almost too much for the clones to contain. Whispers and wide-eyes turn into hollers, whoops, and hugs. Theyâre now official citizens of Coruscant and have the same rights as any other citizen.
âSettle down and listen up!â Rex exclaims. âThese identichips are your key to life. Do not lose them. They will go into effect at 05:00 tomorrow morning, so until then, you are still under my command.â
The clones stop their chatter and nod their heads in understanding.
âTomorrow, youâll be free men,â he starts, âand I will no longer be your captain, but your friend. Youâll be able to make your own choices, live your own lives, and decide your own destinies.â Rex pauses and shifts his weight. âHelp each other, help others, and be good citizens.â Rex pauses one more time, his voice wavering with emotion. âIt truly has been an honor to serve alongside the finest men in the galaxy.â
The barrack of clones erupts with the sound of clapping and whistling. Rex takes in the moment before he puts up his hand to quiet the men and pull out his data-pad.
âA couple more things,â he begins while scrolling through a list. âHousing assignments have been allocated and your new addresses can be found on your identichips. The apartments are fully furnished, but youâll have to buy your own clothes, food, and any extra comforts. Credit stipends will be automatically deposited monthly into your bank account until you gain employment. You can keep your armor, but they have asked that you not wear it in public. You are also allowed to own a single DC-17 hand blaster, but it must be registered with the Coruscant Police and tied to your identichips. Any questions?â
Hardcase raises his hand, a look of concern painting his face. âSo, I canât keep my Z-6?â
âNo, you canât,â Rex answers. âAnything that was considered infantry or heavy weaponry cannot be owned by civilians and must be turned in to the Coruscant Police. It was difficult enough to convince them to let us keep a single hand blaster.â
Hardcase plops onto his bunk and crosses his arms while grumbling to himself. That Z-6 was his best friend during the war and now he has to give it up. It really is a shame.
âAny other questions?â Rex asks as he scans the room. âAlright then. Get a good night's sleep and Iâll touch base with you in the morning.â
As Rex leaves the barracks, more chatter erupts amongst the clones. They are both excited and nervous to get their new lives started. The jitters are evident and no one is sure they can actually sleep tonight. Theyâre like children on Christmas Eve, wanting to stay up late and wait for their presents to arrive instead of sleeping. The anticipation is too much to contain. However, once curfew rolls around, the clones have to turn out the lights and at least try to go to sleep.
The clones all nestle into their bunks for one last night and fall into dreams of what their new lives will be like. Well, everyone that is except for Hardcase. Heâs lying awake, staring up at the bunk above him and feeling restless. Heâs still thinking about that bottle of green liquid Kix took away from him. Heâs not sure what it is about that mysterious bottle that has him so enraptured. Maybe itâs the color, or the way the liquid moves from one end of the glass bottle to the other.
Unable to contain his curiosity, Hardcase decides he wants the bottle back. He waits a couple of hours, and when he hears some of his brothers snoring, he quietly gets out of his bunk and meanders his way to Kixâs bunk. Kix is sleeping on his stomach, one hand under his shirt and the other stretched out over his pillow, with his leg hanging off the side with the blanket falling off. Hardcase shakes his head. Heâll never understand how Kix finds that sleeping position comfortable.
He waves his hand near Kixâs face, checking to make sure he is asleep, then crouches down to look through his duffle. He quietly rummages around, being careful not to knock anything too far out of place, and eventually finds the little glass bottle of green liquid under a pack of gauze. He picks it up, smiles, and admires the bottle like itâs a precious jewel. He puts Kixâs duffle back together, brings the bottle back to his bunk, then looks around to make sure no one saw him.
Once he knows heâs alone and the only one awake, Hardcase pulls the cork off the top of the bottle and it makes a loud popping sound. He winces at the unexpected noise as it echoes through the barracks, then looks around to make sure no one woke up. He relaxes his shoulders and sighs when no one stirs. He looks into the glass bottle and swishes the green liquid around. Itâs a shame to drink it when itâs so pretty, but he has to know what it tastes like.
âBottoms up,â he whispers to himself. He knocks the drink back like a shot and swallows. His face scrunches at the bitter aftertaste and he makes an audible noise of disgust. âYuck! Definitely not alcohol.â
Disappointed in the gross tasting drink, Hardcase flops back onto his bunk and sighs. He doesnât feel any different, so itâs probably not poison. If he had to venture a guess, itâs probably some type of tribal medicine native to the planet Jesse got it from. Medicine is the only thing heâs ever tasted that matches that level of bitterness, and he hates medicine. He shutters at the residual taste in the back of his throat, then tucks himself into his bunk to finally go to sleep.
As dawn breaks and the light of the morning peeks into the barracks, Jesse stirs in his bunk. He stretches his limbs and yawns while sitting up, then breathes a contented sigh when he remembers that today is the day heâs a free man. He looks around the sunlit room and sees the rest of the clones stirring as their internal alarm clocks activate. Excited to get moving, he slides down the back ladder of the bunk, his bare feet hitting the barrackâs cold floor with a dull thud.
Jesse looks at Hardcaseâs bunk, which sits right beneath his, but his brother is not in it. âHas anyone seen Hardcase?â
âNot since lights out,â Echo answers while stretching his arms.
âI havenât seen him either,â Tup yawns.
âGot me,â Kix shrugs.
Out of the corner of his eye, Fives catches the blanket on Hardcaseâs bunk move. âDid anyone else see that?â
âSee what?â Dogma asks while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
Fives stares at the blanket and watches it move again. He points his finger at the lump in the center. âThat!â
âWhat do you think it is?â Jesse asks as he moves to stand next to Fives.
âI donât know,â Fives tilts his head to the side as he thinks.
âOnly one way to find out,â Echo says as he grabs the corner of the blanket and rips it off, revealing what is underneath.
âItâs a⊠frog?â Kix raises an eyebrow at Fives.
âDonât look at me!â Fives puts up his hands in defense. âI didnât put it there.â
âGuys, itâs me,â a voice says.
The group of clones whip around looking for the source of the voice.
âThat sounds like Hardcase,â Jesse says. âBut I donât see him.â
âDown here,â the voice says.
Tup crouches down on the ground and looks under the bunk, but thereâs no one there.
âToo far,â the voice says. âOn the bunk.â
Tup slowly peeks up from his crouched position and looks at the frog sitting on the bunk. They stare at each other for a moment.
âHey,â the frog says.
âAh!â Tup startles and crashes backwards into the adjacent bunk. âThat frog just talked!â
Dogma rolls his eyes. âFrogs donât talk.â
âI'm telling you that frog talked,â Tup argues.
Jesse snorts. âTup, I think youâve lost a few marbles.â
âYou're the one whoâs lost his marbles,â the frog says as it jumps from the bunk onto Jesseâs arm.
âAh!â Jesse jerks and flings the frog off his arm.
âCatch it!â Tup yells.
Kix catches the frog in his hands and examines it curiously. It looks like a regular bullfrog to him. Mottled olive-green mucus-covered skin, a dull-yellow belly, raised eyes, short little forelegs, and long-webbed hind legs. The only strange thing about this bullfrog is the blue lines going down the left side of its body. Heâs never seen a bullfrog with blue stripes before, but then again, he doesnât claim to be an expert in frog species. Kix brings the frog closer to his face to look at the lines.
âHi Kix,â the frog says.
Kix startles and opens his hands, dropping the talking frog onto the floor of the barracks.
âHey!â the frog says. âWatch it!â
Fives kneels down in front of the frog. âHardcase?â
âYeah, itâs me,â Hardcase sighs.
âYouâre a frog!â Fives exclaims as he picks him up.
âI noticed,â Hardcase says.
âHow is that even possible?â Echo questions in bewilderment.
âI donât know,â Hardcase says. âI just woke up like this. I had a heck of a time trying to find my way out of that blanket though. Thanks.â
âKix?â Dogma looks at the shocked medic for an explanation.
âDonât ask me,â Kix raises his hands. âThereâs nothing in the medical texts about clones turning into frogs.â
Jesse looks at the frog, that is Hardcase, and narrows his eyes. âWhat did you do?â
âWhat do you mean, âwhat did I doâ?â Hardcase retorts as he jumps from Fivesâ hands to Jesseâs.
Jesse cups his hands together to catch Hardcase. âKix is right, clones donât just turn into frogs,â he says. "What did you do?â
âNothing!â Hardcase shouts. âI just woke up like this. Iâm as lost as you are!â
Kix gets curious and looks around Hardcaseâs bunk area. He rifles through his duffle bag and grabs the empty bottle. He takes a deep breath, straightens up, and crosses his arms. âYou drank it.â
âOh, yeah,â Hardcase chuckles nervously. âI forgot about that.â
Kix grabs Hardcase out of Jesseâs hands, encircling his fingers around Hardcaseâs stomach as his long hind legs dangle down freely. He brings Hardcaseâs little frog face close to his. âYou idiot!"
âHow was I supposed to know this would happen?â Hardcase argues as he squirms to escape Kixâs grasp.
Kix closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with his free hand. âIf you would've waited one rotation, I could have done an analysis!â
âOops,â Hardcase says.
âOops?â Kix scowls. âThatâs all you have to say for yourself, oops? Youâre a kriffing frog!â
Hardcase tries to roll his eyes, then spits out his tongue and whacks Kixâs nose to shut him up.
Kix scrunches his face in disgust, pulls Hardcase away, and places him back in Jesseâs hands.
âHeâs your problem now,â Kix says as he wipes the slime off of his nose.
âMe?â Jesse protests as he looks between Hardcase and Kix. âWhat am I supposed to do with him?â
âI donât know,â Kix says. âFigure it out.â
âCan someone please explain to me what is going on?â Dogma asks in confusion. âIâm so lost.â
âHardcase drank some weird liquid and it turned him into a frog,â Fives recounts.
Dogma takes a moment to digest Fivesâ words. âYouâre joking, right?â
âWait!â Tup interjects. âIâve heard about this before.â
Everyone turns to look at Tup. âYou have?â the group asks in unison.
âYes!â Tup says. âI read it in a holo-book once.â
âSince when do you read?â Dogma asks with a raised eyebrow. âIâve never seen you read before.â
Tup shoots Dogma an unamused look. âI did when I was a cadet.â
âSo, what did the holo-book say?â Jesse eagerly asks.
Tup thinks for a moment. âThere were a couple different stories. I canât remember if this is the one where heâll turn into a pumpkin at midnight or fall asleep and never wake up. Either way he needs a true loveâs kiss to turn him back into a human.â
Silence fills the room.
âJesse?â Hardcase asks while looking up at him.
âYes,â Jesse answers while looking down at him.
âI donât like squash,â Hardcase says.
Jesse sighs. âThen weâll hope for the âsleep and never wake upâ one.â
Hardcase turns to face Tup. âSo, if I get a girl to kiss me, Iâll turn back into a man?â
âAccording to the stories,â Tup explains. âExcept it canât be any random kiss. It has to be a true loveâs kiss.â
âWhatâs the difference?â Hardcase asks.
Tup knits his eyebrows. âNot really sure to be honest.â
âAmateurs,â Fives says. âTrue love is when you love someone more than anyone else.â
âOh,â Hardcase says. âI still donât get it.â
Fives sighs. âYou need to get a girl to fall in love with you.â
âIn three days!â Tup interjects.
Fives nods his head. âYes, in three dayâ Wait, what?â
âI think,â Tup says. âThat might have been the seafoam story.â
âCan we focus on the frog story please?â Jesse says with exasperation.
âDoes it really matter?â Hardcase asks.Â
âYes, it matters!â Jesse exclaims. âWe donât need you dying on us!â
The room goes silent at the words that everyone is thinking, but no one wants to say. As funny as the situation is, they really have no idea what will happen to him and it has them all worried. They're finally free men, but that freedom wonât mean much if one of them is missing from it. They canât replace Hardcase and they donât want to think about enjoying their new lives without him. Regardless of how dumb his action was, they all need to work together to try and save him.
âI think we should tell Rex,â Echo says. âMaybe he canââ
âMaybe he can do what?â Dogma interjects. âLook it up in a reg manual?â
Echo huffs. âIâm just trying to be helpful.â
âAnd we appreciate it,â Kix places a hand on Echoâs shoulder. âI agree with him. The next course of action is to tell Rex and then work together to turn him back to normal.â
As Kix finishes his sentence, Rex enters the barracks. The group of clones mumble amongst themselves on how theyâll break the news to their captain that one of his men is no longer a man, but a frog. It sounds like a joke, and maybe it is, but this is their reality at the moment and lying is not an option. They think about hiding Hardcase and telling Rex at a later time, but they canât come up with a good excuse as to why he isnât in the barracks and where he is.
âMorning,â Rex happily greets the clones with a smile.
Jesse hides Hardcase behind his back.
âMorning, captain,â Kix says.
Rex chuckles. âItâs just Rex now.â
âOh, right,â Kix rubs his neck in embarrassment. âThatâs gonna be an adjustment.â
âAre you boys ready to check out your new home?â Rex asks with excitement.
The room stays silent.
Rex furrows his brows. âDonât everyone jump up at onceâŠâ
The room is still silent.
Rex puts his hands on his hips. âAlright, spit it out. Whatâs going on?â
âWe have a slight problem,â Fives says.
Rex sighs. âWhat did you do this time?â
âIt wasnât Fives,â Echo answers quickly.
âWell, thatâs a surprise,â Rex mumbles under his breath. âThen what is it?â
Jesse brings his hands around from his back to show Rex the frog.
Rex is confused. âOkay⊠Itâs a frog. I donât get it.â
âHi Rex,â Hardcase says.
Rex jumps. âKriffing stars! Did that thing just talk?â
âThat thing,â Kix begins, âis Hardcase.â
âWhat?!â Rex asks, his mouth hung open in shock.
The group of clones explain to Rex the events leading up to this point. Rex listens intently, but maintains a bewildered expression on his face. Heâs not surprised at Hardcaseâs actions, but heâs not once in his life ever heard of a man changing into a frog. He wonders if the green bottle of liquid was some kind of magic potion. Unfortunately, Jesse canât remember which planet it came from, so researching it is out. Rex ends up agreeing with the only other option, true loveâs kiss.
âFirst things first,â Rex starts. âLetâs get moved out of the barracks and into our new apartments. Then we can strategize a plan of attack.â
The group of clones nod in agreement and disperse to grab their belongings. Jesse puts Hardcase down on his bunk while he grabs his things.
âOh, and Hardcase,â Rex squats down to look Hardcase in his little frog eyes. âDonât get squashed in the meantime.â
Prompt : What if Fives somehow matched with an old fling he had feelings for early in the war and they rekindle that old romance?
Pairing : Fives x Female OC
Rating : NFM
Word Count : 4,985Â sorry :/
Content Warnings : Mention of death. Swearing. Sexual innuendo. Otherwise fluff and a bit of angst
The music was in a minor key and pumping, just the way Veera liked it. She loved to dance and her music loud but feeling a little self-conscious, (she was slightly older than the average patron), she kept to a darker corner of the dance floor. Sheâd not been to this club before but had already decided she would return, especially if this DJ was appearing⊠just, not on a night like tonight. Speed dating was on in the room next door and sheâd come to support a work colleague whoâd wanted company to be on the safe side. But that had worked to her own advantage, as she had arranged to meet a date of her own here. Veera had bitten the bullet! After a failed relationship with a clone officer, sheâd decided to enlist the help of RTL Matchmaking, an agency dedicated to clones. Veera had always preferred letting nature take its course, so to enlist the help of an agency to speed up the process of finding a partner, went right against her grain. At least they were a not-for-profit! It took a hell of a lot for her to submit but the man sheâd lost was going to take some beating, no standard fellow would cut it, she wanted to meet another clone but with an aversion to 79âs, she knew she needed professional help.
The first round of âspeedingâ had finished and contenders were now hitting the main room, most of them remaining in their âchat upâ frame of mind. Veeraâs friend was in round two, so she had another good hour of meat market diplomacy to contend with. Still, she was grateful for any chance to go out. One week shy of the Battle of Geonosis and the start of the war, Veera had found herself a short-term detainee in Coruscantâs immigration detention. Sheâd been deported from Raxus, accused of âPro-Republic Viewsâ. It wasnât as black and white as that though, Veera was more a conscientious objector and had made some political comments that angered her regional governor, a man of dubious character. A deal had been struck that saw Veera and her university colleagues released from a labour camp but deported, âTo their obviously preferred home world,â as punishment. Needless to say, being from a Separatist world during the height of the conflict meant life hadnât been easy on Coruscant.
But now, Palpatine was dead, the war was over and Veera had freedom! She could be with whomever she wanted and go wherever she wanted and right now, she wanted to go to the bar! She ordered two bottles of water, downed one on the spot and thought to hell with it, âA morning concoction too, please!â
Sheâd barely finished her first sip when some boy saddled up to her, attempting a vulgar chat up line. The bartender heard and locked eyes with Veera, waiting to see her response and her first thought was to verbally bite a great chunk out of the lad but she restrained herself.
âIâm seeing someone,â she told him short and sweet. Tucking her bottled water under her arm, she took her drink in hand and moved to slip away.
âAre they here tonight though?â he followed up.
Veera just inhaled and walked away to find a table, concentrating solely on not spilling her drink as she watched the liquid swirling close to the rim of the glass. She thought a quick sip would lessen the chance of any spillage but didnât see the group of animated young men advancing towards the bar and they were too busy talking to see her. It was an accident waiting to happen and sure enough, one ploughed straight into her! Next thing Veera knew, other than a hefty jolt, was caf and vodka up her nose and her water bottle hitting the floor. Swiftly registering that even more of her drink was dribbling over her mouth like a horseshoe moustache, she feigned looking for her bottle whilst quickly wiping her chin. One of the men had already retrieved it and was passing it to her with a, âMiss, your water.â
She was taken aback to realise he was a clone. It was then she realised another of the group had grabbed her hand to steady her drink, thus preventing any further disaster. Looking up at him with admittedly a little trepidation, to both apologise and thank him, she froze! She could tell by his expression that he too was doing a double take. But that goatee and tattoo, it was definitely him. She gasped for air.
âFives!â
âVeera?â
Panic set in and her eyes darted around the club, âFives, youâll get into trouble!â
âVeera, the warâs over. I doubt we have to worry about that anymore.â
His comment brought her back to the here and now and she realised to her embarrassment she was on the cusp of hyperventilating. He had taken her other hand as well while the boys with him were looking at them in total confusion.
âI was never what they said I was,â she blurted out, surprising herself even.
âHey cyarârika, I never thought you were.â
It took a moment for his words to register and he looked at her with such a deep empathy she was transfixed.
âUm, this is awkward,â he continued. He gave her hand a tiny squeeze before letting go, âIâm actually here to meet someone. I donât want to be rude but Iâm about to be late.â
âOh! Thatâs ok,â she swiftly answered. âI um, sorry to hold you up, I didnât spill anything on you did I? Best let you go then. Iâm supposed to be meeting someone as well anyway, so er ââ
âYeah well, uh, it would be nice to see you again⊠might even catch you before I leave tonight, if my plans donât work out?â
âSure, maybe later thenâŠ. unless you were here to meet with a Jane Doe to begin with?â she said jokingly. It was the name oddly given by RTL to identify herself to her match.
His mouth gaped, âWere you told to meet up with a John Doe?â he asked suspiciously.
Now Veera stood stunned, âDid you get that name from RTL?â
âYes,â he confirmed.
âYouâre John Doe?â
âYeah, and youâre Jane Doe?â
âYes!â
The lads were watching their conversation toing and froing as if watching a null-racket match.
âThey matched us!â Veera stated.
âLooks like it,â he laughed a little. âWow!â
âYeah, wow! âŠOh, well er⊠now I know why they gave us pseudonyms.â
âYeah, bet theyâre sitting in their office looking at their chronos thinking, anyâŠminuteâŠnow!â Fives joked.
They took each other in for a moment before Fives clapped his hands together and turned to his junior clones.
âOk gentlemen, it would appear Iâve stumbled across my date. You can all go now and sign up to the speed dating. Weâve got some serious catching up to do.â And with that, Fives led Veera to a table, sat her down first then joined next to her.
âI have to admit Iâm staggered!â said Veera, âI didnât think Iâd ever see you again!â
âMe tooâŠalthough, I wanted to see you again.â
âAs did I but ââ Veera let out a big sigh. âWhen RTL interviewed you, did you tell them about â?â
âYeah, I did,â he preempted her words, âYou?â
âYeah,â she nodded. âSo, where do we start?â
Fives huffed in acknowledgement theyâd have a bit to get through. âHow about er⊠where do you work?â he teased.
Veera saw the funny side of his hackneyed first-date question, âSame hospital but Iâve moved to the ED, which Iâd wanted all along. What about you, youâre out of armour, still an ARC with the Five-o-First?â
âYes, although thinking of applying for an instructorâs position. It comes with a promotion.â
âReally? Youâd be good at that thatâŠ. Iâd like for you to get a promotion.â Veera then nodded at the lads who had come with Fives, âSo, no Echo, although Iâd dare say this wouldnât be his scene, how is he?â
Fives paused and momentarily drew on the tabletop with his finger, âActually, we lost him over a year ago, killed in action.â
Veeraâs heart sank, âFives! I am so sorry.â She instinctively reached out to hold Fives by the hand, âThat wasnât very smart of me, I didnât think, I am so sorry.â
Fives placed his other hand on Veeraâs to fully envelope hers but couldnât bring himself to look at her, âItâs alright, time heals as they say.â
âHmm, they say.â Veera brought her other hand into the mix and they silently sat holding each other.
âYou know,â he said, turning to look at her, âit happened only about a week after we deployed.â
âSo soon after I met you both!â It deeply unnerved Veera to think that on meeting Echo, his days were already numbered.
âAnd about two days after I was ordered to not see you again.â
Veera was silently registering his despondency when he scoffed, âThe irony still gets me, only Echo could console me after losing you, then I wouldâve given anything for you to console me after losing Echo.â
Fives was staring blankly at their hands watching his thumb slowly caresses her when he realised Veera was letting go to scoop him up in a hug and Force, he hadnât realised how much he needed the gesture.
âIâm sorry. I thought Echo was such a lovely fellow.â
âHuh, you might not say that when I tell you he told me to dump you like a hot kebroot! He did a very good job of talking me out of wanting to defy my orders.â
Veera laughed as she sat back. âOh, did he now?â she said with a knowing smile. âGuess I canât blame him after what they probably said about me. Ultimately he was looking out for you. Bless him!â She raised her glass in a toast and took a sip of its remnants, offering Fives the rest. He took it and raised it in return.
âYeah, good olâ Echo,â he toasted, and then finished off her drink. He laughed to himself as he put the glass down with a faint sniff, âHe was filthy on finding out you were Raxian.â
Veera wasnât prepared for how much that would hit a nerve, âHe wasnât alone on that front.â
âSorry, put my foot in it, I didnât mean it to sound like that.â But as he lent on the table his memories kept swirling around in his head and it ended up too much for him, finally turning to face Veera and spitting out, âWhat in Sithâs Hell was going on?â
Veera retracted a little at his gesture and he was quick to apologise, taking her hand again and holding it firmly in both his. âIâm sorry itâs just, it drove me nuts, even after all this time it would crop up to bug meâŠ. It couldnât have been too bad or they wouldnât have let you join a clone matchmaking service.â
Veera couldnât help acknowledge his logic with a slight laugh.
âIâll talk officer,â she joked, raising her hands in surrender, âIâll tell you anything you want to know but Iâm gonna need a drink while Iâm at it.â
âI do want to know,â said Fives decidedly, âI do⊠Letâs get something.â
He turned the switch for the holo-menu on their table and they lent in to see what was on offer. Despite the uncertainty of what he would learn, he felt a pleasant familiarity being next to Veera and he hoped she felt the same, so close together their arms almost touching, and as they finalised their choices heâd sneak a look here and there, the length of her eye-lashes, the straight line of her nose and her cheek bones, or more so the plump bit right at the top, he was sure the girls would have a name for it when doing their makeup but he knew it as the part he loved to brush his thumbs over, if he could just hold her face in his hands. Force, heâd forgotten just how captivating she was.
âOh letâs get both bottles!â she said.
âWhat?â he snapped back to paying attention, âTwo bottles of wine?â
âWhy not? The warâs over and we should live it up - they matched us up for a reason! Our friends can help with any leftovers.â
âOh meshâla.â He smiled at her and hit the order button with conviction. Turning to face Veera, Fives sat with one arm resting on the table, the other on the back of his chair and in a tone that hinted he was accustomed to giving orders, said short and sharp, âOk then, from the beginning!â Â
Veera sighed deeply and made herself comfy in her chair.
âBefore you lads got rec leave and we were looking after Wolffe in our hospital, Iâd worked out that somebody was going through my apartment messing it up, as if toying with me. I was convinced the politician that got me deported had hired Raxian goons to intimidate me.â
Fives was taken aback.
âI reported it to the police and told Wolffe and my uncle, you remember he was Wolffeâs surgeon, during one of Wolffeâs check-ups, thatâs when he started helping me out with bug detectors and the like. He knew I was from Raxus, heâd read my dossier but still, he was taking a bit of risk with me being a new arrival. What we didnât know then, was that Homeworld were also going through my flat.â
âWhat? I thought they were just watching your place, not going through it.â
âTurns out theyâd been watching the Raxians going into my joint so assumed I ran some safe house. Homeworld would go in and rifle around after the Raxians had been in.â
Fives nodded to hold off as their waiter arrived with their order. He then did the honours and poured Veera a glass of wine whilst she decided on something to eat from their mixed platters.
âSo,â he continued, taking some food for himself, âyou had two groups routinely rifling through your apartment.â
âYes, then you clones got granted rec leave and Wolffe arranged that One-o-Fourth party at 79âs to thank our ward staff.â
âThe night me met,â Fives smiled and Veera couldnât help smiling back.
âYes and because Homeworld were watching my place, theyâd seen Wolffe visit but then saw me come home with you after our date.â
âAnd from that they accused you of entrapment?â Fives shook his head and helped himself again to the platter. âDid they not realise all I scored that night was a caf and data pad full of legal documents to read while you got changed for your night shift?â he playfully bemoaned.
Veera shrugged, âBureaucrats, maybe getting invited in for caf and to read someoneâs data pad is their idea of sexy.â
Fives laughed out loud.
âNo, hang on!â Veera remembered, âYou got a kiss when you later dropped me off at the hospital so you canât complain!â
âIâll complain I only got the one,â he said with a wink and a sip of his wine. He was pretty certain sheâd blushed at that.
âAnyway,â she stalled to recover, âa few nights later, Wolffe visited and crashed on the couch while I went to work. They actually broke in that night and he caught one of them.â
âFor real? Go Wolffie!â
âHe then arranged a meeting with Fox for information on who heâd caught but it turned out he caught a Homeworld agent. Thatâs how we found out their involvement.â Â
âYeah, I have my opinions, anyhow, Wolffeâs meeting with Fox was then interrupted by Homeworld. Wolffe was told you and he were getting orders to sever contact but Fox argued it would be better if Wolffe stayed in touch as an informant.â
Fives paused for a few minutes to absorb the latest bit of information. âHmm, so Wolffe go to stay onboard yet I was thrown overboard? Crafty bastard that Fox. Itâs not for nothing heâs called that.â
Veera shifted a little uncomfortably.
âAnd Wolffe started informing on you?â said Fives surprised and with a little shake of his head, picked over the platters again and Veera joined him. âHow did you find that out?â
âLetâs just say Wolffe told me without telling me, if you catch my drift. He thankfully didnât believe them and disagreed with what they were doing, so, hell of a risk on his behalf!â
âIt was either very trusting or foolish of him.â
âSince when have you known him to be foolish?â Veera was feeling a little pressured and pulled the menu up to order some more water. âLook a lot happened in the hospital and Wolffe came to trust me. I just canât tell you what because that would be a breach of client confidentiality.â
Fives prickled. âAnd now the warâs over and weâre all friends again? That and or I take it they never found anything?â
âThere never was anything.â Veera said pointedly.
âWell, not that they could prove,â he teased.
âYouâd better be bloody joking!â
âMeshâla, I tease you too cruelly.â He picked up the wine bottle and topped up her glass as if a peace offering. She took a sip and continued.
âAfter Wolffe caught the Homeworld guy, I think they were a bit embarrassed so they stepped up their surveillance and finally caught one of the others. He admitted theyâd been hired by someone off-world to harass me, there was nothing more to it.â And with one hand on her heart and the other raised to swear an oath, she added, âAnd thatâs the truth!â
Fives lowered his eyes and bowed his head in acknowledgement of her declaration.
âNow, I want to know what happened to you,â she blurted out.
Fives lent back in his chair with his glass of wine and pulled a platter nearer for easier pickings. âWell, we flew out the morning after our date and I got commed to present to the captainâs office. Had to stand to attention whilst this Homeworld officer strutted up and down with his chest puffed out, telling me Iâd been seen at your place. He asked me how long Iâd known you, where and how did we meet, where had we been, what did we do there, was ours a romantic relationship and if so, how romantic? Surprised he didnât ask for the length of my cock.â
Veera choked on her wine and tried to scold him but Fives just laughed for having caught her off guard, âOh they all gag, cyarârika.â
She eyed him with a look of disbelief, âFives, you are shameless!â
He laughed some more, then confessed, âSorry, had to let off steam, I still get angry at the thought of that shebsâpalon.â
Veera gathered herself then added her two credits worth, âIâm surprisedyoudidnât volunteer the information.â
âOh but I told them in my RTL interview.â
âFives!â she shook her head..
âWhich is clearly why they matched us up!â he said with a grin that implied he was either happy or done something wrong, probably both.
âFives!!!â
Veera buried her head in her hands.
âOk, Iâll behave. Back to my interrogation. The best bit was when he asked me, as if he were springing it on me, if I knew you were from Raxus? His face was priceless when I said youâd told me upfront and let me read your court documents. That pleasure however was short lived. He screamed at me that they were fakes you used to trick people ââ
âWhat?â
ââand that known Raxian operatives had been seen going to your flat so you clearly were up to no good. I was lucky not to be getting charged with fraternisation but if I did anything after his dressing down, Iâd get treason!â
Veera stared at him wide-eyed and silently contemplated the unpleasantness of Fivesâ encounter. âI knew from Wolffe they were saying entrapment but didnât realise they threatened you with treason. Thatâs horrible!â
âIt was downright scary. He then told me to visit the doxies if I wanted company, I was ropable.â
âIâm sorry Fives. I really shouldnât have agreed to that date.â
âOh cyarârika, I understand Iâm impossible to resist,â
âOh Fives,â Veera rubbed her forehead, âYou got the impossible bit right,â she teased, âand for the record, my documents arenât fake!â Veera said indignantly.
âOh I know. I was having a heart to heart with Skywalker a month later, he put in a request for evidence so I could get a copy from the courts which I read in full.â
âOh! You did your researchâŠ. Iâm impressed, in a back-handed compliment kinda way.â
âI wanted to get to the truth! Then all I wanted was to let you know I hadnât ghosted you but I couldnât work out how. Then, time justâŠâ he shrugged, looked away and went back to leaning on the table.
Fivesâ honesty and honey eyes had warmed Veera as heâd told her his story. She felt guilt for what heâd been through, getting threatened by Homeworld.
âI wouldnât have blamed you if you had ghosted me,â she finally said, âI gave you the notes to read for a reason. Wolffe told me what happened about two weeks after you deployed, said he didnât want me thinking the worst of you.â She paused and inhaled deeply, âI was livid to learn I couldnât see you again or explain anything.â
Silence followed as the two looked at each other with small expressions of hopelessness over the past. Then Fives swiftly moved in, cupping her face with both hands and kissed her. Veera found herself feeling a little surprised by his urgency but a cosiness soon took over and she felt suspended in time. His lips soft, his nose pressing into her cheek, warm. He moved gently, savouring the moment, making her feel she was going to melt entirely and needed to grasp onto him for dear life wherever her hands landed, as if that was going to save her from being rendered into a liquid on the floor. He pulled back to breathe but she kept her eyes closed, she didnât want the feeling to evaporate.
âSo you felt the same as me?â
He delicately pressed his forehead to hers as he spoke and Veera could barely whisper, âI did.â
She could clearly hear his breathing over the music.
âAnd now?â he asked.
âIâm so grateful for a second chance.â
He pushed his chair back a little further out of the light and pulled her up to straddle him. They sat compressing themselves together, behaving the best they could in a public space yet wanting to feel everything of the other, their kisses deep and sensuous.
Eventually they pulled back before things got out of hand but remained as seated, not breaking the hold their eyes had on each other for a long time, no words needing to be spoken. Then Veera laid against his chest and he gently held her. Feeling each otherâs warmth they relished in the stillness.
âI want to take you home now,â he whispered.
âI want that tooâŠbut itâs rude to ditch our friends. Besides,â she said, sitting back up to look at him, âthe wait will make it a thousand times sweeter.â She ran her hands through his hair and he looked at her as if to say youâre playing a dangerous game.
They were all flushed as they righted themselves back in their seats then topped up their glasses, sharing tidbits with each other from their platters.
But curiosity got the better of Fives, âStill canât believe Wolffe was able to stay. Did you and he ever âŠ.get together?â
Veera was caught totally off-guard.
âThat look is admission enough,â he said with a faint, understanding smile. âAlways thought he was keen on you.â
âHow?â
âYou didnât see him looking down at us every five seconds at 79âs?â
Veera shook her head.
âOh he was keeping an eye on us.â
Veera looked down at the table.
âIâm pissed he got to stay on while I got banished.â
âWell itâs not like he had any say in the matter, Homeworld ultimately made the decision and ordered him.â
Fives sat silently, finally nodding and screwing up his nose he drawled under his breath, âStill think Fox is a crafty bastard.â He poured himself another glass.
âPour me one too pleaseâŠ.and actually, they say itâs not proper to talk about an ex on a first date. Can we please not talk about Wolffe anymore, not today.
âVeera, forgive me, because I want to believe it was all unintended and we got caught up in the crossfire of war but because of you, I was threatened with charges of fraternisation and treason. Thatâs a hot date with a firing squad! It also tarnished my reputation with my seniors. I am well aware standard first date protocol means we discuss hobbies, art galleries and preferred pets but really, we are not on our first date and we have history, so I think I deserve some background knowledge if Iâm to entertain this match-up any further. Â The One-o-Fourth extracted us from our mission. He knew Iâd lost Echo and he even told me he got the same orders as me so Iâm very pissed to learn that wasnât true and he got to stay with you. Dammit, weâd even been in 79âs together drinking in Echoâs memory and you knew nothing?â
Veera couldnât tell if it were nausea or hurt she was feeling but she couldnât have looked good because it made Fives
swiftly work to make amends.
âMeshâla, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry ââ
âIf youâre feeling pissed,â said Veera firmly, âI get itâŠ.but piss on Homeworld, not Wolffe. You know what I think? I think he chose not to tell me because he knew I was already very upset and the news of Echo wouldâve crushed me. He also felt that if we didnât talk of military matters, theyâd have no evidence they could twist against me, or all three us for that matter. He knew I like you. He also knew I liked him but I was a mess. Yes, I was sweet on him before I met you but thought Iâd read him all wrong. You asked me out first. If itâs any consolation, we both felt guilt that he got to stay and that Iâd dated you and that you were taken out of my hands before the natural flow of things could take their course. Those issues gnawed at us constantly.â
Fives went quiet. He sat for a long while with his arms crossed, his thumb stroking his bottom lip. The sound of Veera sniffing snapped him out of his reflections. Â She was dabbing her eyes and wiping her hands on her skirt when he took them in his and rested them on his knees.
âForgive me, please? I donât want any more sadness or hurt. Iâm sorry.â He started sniffling himself. âLook, I can lay all my cards on the table and tell you about my exes and exploits but I went to RTL to find something serious. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would lead to a second chance with you! You knocked me out the park when I met you at 79âs. Then we dated and I thought wow, this girlâs unbelievable! No one since has ever made me laugh like you did, or made me think of them in awe. Iâm so sorry I upset you.â He sniffed again and swallowed hard. The look of pleading on his face too much for Veera.
âCome here you,â she said and gently drew him towards her.
They kissed, slowly, simply, sniffled a bit in between then rested their foreheads together.
âIâm sorry too,â she said.
After a moment of regaining their calm she asked him, âDo you think they matched us cause they knew we needed to get this off our chests or cause we actually do match?â
Fives huffed a little laugh, âIâd like to think both.â
âYouâre such a diplomat.â
Fives threw his head back laughing, âMe, a diplomat? Cyarârika, youâve been drinking,â he winked. âOh I hope we donât have to wait too much longer for the kids, I want to go home.â
The twinkle in his eye made Veera blush.
âYou were going to take me out dancing, remember?â
âHmm, fond memories of the night we met, another thing I couldnât forget about you.â
Veera laughed, âYou know the saying about dancing?â
Fives shook his head.
âThe vertical expression of a horizontal desire, legalised by music.â
âYoung lady!â he beamed.
âCome on hazard stripes! Letâs dance.â
âHazard stripes? Oh  girlâŠyouâve been warned!â
Fives and Veeraâ companions eventually emerged from their speed dating. Having agreed to look for them together, they finally spotted them on the dance floor but they werenât dancing, rather leaning against a pillar, enfolded in each otherâs arms.
âIâve never seen him soâŠ.peaceful,â said one of the clones.
âYeah, especially not with a lady!â another added.
Veeraâs colleague asked them what they meant.
âWell, heâs usually so animated, like flirty and joshing with them ââ
âOr all over them!â
The boys laughed heartily.
Veeraâs colleague however looked at them, enamoured. âWell, all I can say is there must be something to this RTL Matchmaking lot cause look at them both, thatâs pure tenderness right there. Think I might sign myself up.â
âHey, what for?â exclaimed the first clone, âYouâve just met me!â
âUh, uh, cheeky! Iâve just met all three of you. The agency wouldâve narrowed it down to one for me, saving me a load of grief. Anyway, letâs go get a drink, we might be here a while.â
Pairing: Hardcase x Reader (She/They-Uterus possessing?)
AU: Right to Love Clone Matchmaking AU
Rating: SFW
Summary: Hardcase is a disaster when he witnesses an "my period came on early and hard while I slept" accident first hand.
Content Warning: Mensuration and Period talk and confusion. Blood mention. Vague pregnancy mention.
Clones and reader speak Mando'a badly because I can't language.
Word Count: 1508
-Special thanks to @blueink-bluesoul for helping with the title.
-Credit for dividers goes to @freesia-writes and the clone trooper helmets @lornaka
-End graphic credit to @tcwmatchmakingau for the reward for completing a request.
-Title image by me
âCyare, wake upâ Hardcaseâs insistent and panicked voice pulled you to wakefulness. âCyare, donât panic,â
Groggily you blink, him calling you beloved as opposed to babe usually indicated something was amiss. âYou mean like you are?â you ask, still groggy, moving to sit up.
âNo, donât move!â he says, stopping you.
Reality comes more into focus and multiple emotions slam into you as you feel an all too familiar sensation from the lower portion of your body. Your period had decided not only to be several days early, but also to arrive in a more dramatic fashion this month. Â
Annoyance at the mess, pain, and general grossness you felt during your period. Additionally, deep embarrassment. Your relationship was four months along, and with some reassurance he had stayed at your apartment every night he was on planet and not on call.
 But he had somehow managed to be deployed or in some sort of training for each and every one you had since the beginning. And now here you were waking up in a puddle of blood, freaking your boyfriend out.Â
Overall you felt the insane need to laugh. He wasnât being serious, was he?
âJust stay still, Iâm going to call the medics,â he says, urgently. He was serious.
âLove, no, wait,â You try to contain the laughter in your voice.
âYou need medical attention, Cyare,â he insists. âAnd you need to stay still,â
âAs much as I hate it, this is completely normal,â You get up, wincing at the gush and sudden cramp as you sit up.Â
âThis canât be normal,â he says. âIâm calling Kix,â
You canât hold the laughter in anymore, you erupt into giggles.Â
âBabe, this isnât a laughing matter! Youâre bleeding!!â He exclaims while he contacts his brother.Â
âKix, they're bleeding a lot and now they are hysterical,â you overhear his end of the conversation, making you laugh harder.Â
You get a message from Kix, while Hardcase is harassing him.Â
âStarted your period?â
âYupâ
âMust be a rough one if itâs an eighth of as bad as heâs making it to be,â
âItâs not pleasantâ
âMiddle of the kriffing night too, you doing okay?â
âYeah just you know early so kind of a messâ
âI knew he wasnât paying attention in that training. You okay with me taking this opportunity for a little payback?â
You laugh harder and answer âPlease doâ
âExcellent!â
When you get up, Hardcase is still in the hall pleading with Kix. You strip the bed and throw the bloody bedding on the
fresher floor so you could add your pajamas to them before putting them in the washer.Â
As you are getting in the shower when he returns to the bedroom. Â
âBabe! Whereâd you go? You shouldnât be up,â he calls out, moving towards the bathroom and the sound of the shower.Â
You start laughing again, doubled over and gasping in the âfresher between the laughing and the cramps.
His panic spikes again and he yanks the shower door open, stripping his sleep pants off and getting in. He wraps his arms around you to hold you up.
âSee, you should be laying down!â He says, as if your cramping plus giggle fit gasping meant you were on deathâs doorstep.Â
âWhat did Kix say?â You finally ask, calmed somewhat.Â
âSomething about I should have paid attention in his lecture. Iâm not a medic,â he answers, âThatâs why I want to take you to one!â
Laughter takes you again.Â
âRight,â he says,âyou are going even if I have to carry you,â
âDonât need to Babe, this happens all the time,â you answer.
âNot all the time, I would have noticed!â He says.Â
âSo far you have been on a mission or training. Itâs just a couple days earlier than usual or there would have been less mess,â you answer. You lean into him, resting your head against his chest. It was the middle of the night as far as you were concerned and the general malaise you got along with the cramps and headaches had set in. Even with him panicking it his solid presence was comforting. Â
âCan you get me a glass of water?â as he steps out ahead of you, still holding your hand as if you were going to fall.
âYou donât need water, you need medical attention,â he insists, drying off and going to get it anyway.Â
âI am fine!â You answer as he leaves the room, you can hear him making a call as he does.Â
You are getting out of the shower you hear him on the com in the bedroom.
âNo, Rex he refuses to help,âÂ
A moment later Hardcase burst into the fresher to check on you as you pulled clean pajamas on.Â
âBabe, I really thinkâŠâ he begins.
âIâm fine, really. Itâs normal. Why donât you go for your run?âyou suggest.Â
âIâm not leaving you here by yourself!â He insists. âWill you atleast lay back down?â
âGladly! Until I have to get ready for work,â you answer with a yawn.Â
âYou are not going to work in your condition!â He exclaims. âKix wouldnât let anything truly bad happen to you, but I canât imagine how it can be this much and you shouldnât need to be in bed!â
âFine, let me message Watcher and get the heating pad,â you respond. Â
âYou lay down and send your message. Iâll get your heating pad,âHardcase gestures to the freshly made bed, then picks up the dirty bedding, before heading towards the washer.Â
You send the message to your co-manager, Watcher, that you wonât be in due to illness and you would tell him the story later. You take some pain relievers, drinking the glass of water Hardcase had left on the nightstand.Â
âBabe, Iâm really worried,â he says, returning to the room and handing you the heating pad.Â
âI know,â you answer, sleepily. âIâm fine, really.âÂ
He nods, face still crinkled with concern, and got into bed with you. He wraps his arms around you as you lay your head on his chest, tucking the heating pad against your stomach. The scent of his skin and weight of his arms around you taking the edge off.
As you drift off you hear his com ping with the arrival of a file and feel him reach for his headphones on the nightstand.
You are vaguely aware, as you usually are, when he slips away to go on his morning run. At least thatâs what your nearly asleep mind assumed as he eased you off of him and settled you among the pillows and blankets with a kiss to the forehead like he usually did.Â
The next time you wake itâs to Hardcase calling your name and scooping you up into his arms as he sat on the bed. Like usual this time of morning he smelled freshly of his soap. âNer Cyare, thereâs my bad ass sweetheart,â he says with a smile, before kissing you good morning. âSorry I panicked,â
âThank you for taking care of me,â you say, as you lean your cheek against his shoulder.Â
âOh, thatâs right!â He reached for a bottle on the nightstand. âKix brought these by. He said to make sure you are hydrated too,â he handed you the cup of water and then a dose of the pain medicine.Â
âYou didnât harass Kix too much, did you?â You ask.Â
âKix is fine, we went for a run and I stopped to get some breakfast for us,â he answered. âYou want to have breakfast while we watch a holofilm?â
You nod against his shoulder, you really did feel miserable. Sure you powered through it every month and went to work. Â But it didnât mean it was pleasant in the slightest.Â
He lifts you to carry you to the living room.Â
âI can walk, I thought you talked to Kix,â you exclaim.
âYeah, Iâm only slightly less horrified. If I could make it to where you didnât have to go through it I would,â he tells you.Â
âNo!â You almost yell, eyes widening, âno, no wayâ
You see him go pale, âOh kriff no! Itâs not what I meant! Thatâs even more terrifying,â he squeezes you closer. You snuggled into him.Â
âJust, let me take care of you through it whenever Iâm home,â he says softly.Â
Tears sprang to your eyes, you curse your overactive hormones.Â
âYou okay?â He asks, worry flooding his voice once more.Â
You press your face into his neck, and nod. âLove you, âCaseâ
âLove you too, Babeâ he whispers into your hair.
You answer the door to a delivery droid. You had just gotten out of the shower after work. Head aching with cramps that make you feel like you are being stabbed.Â
The droid unloads a case of your favorite fizzy water, chocolates, and a brightly colored bouquet into your hands before retreating to the lift.
Once back inside you took the note from the flowers.Â
âRelax, Iâll bring dinner home!â
Years later he was still taking care of you.Â
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Welcome to our weekly roundup! Below, you'll find a list of all the Clone Matchmaker AU fic submissions and reader requests/prompts we received in the last seven days. Roundups post on Fridays, and entries are listed in the order received. Submissions received after 9 PM Pacific time on Thursdays will be included in the next week's roundup.
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This week's submissions
đ denotes mature content
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 3," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit - Commander Mayday đ
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 4," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit - Commander Mayday đ
This week's reader requests
What if fives somehow matched with an old fling he had feelings for early in the war and they rekindle that old romance?
Editorâs note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)
Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer ReaderÂ
Rating: M (18+ Minors DNI)
Wordcount: 2k
Warnings and tags: SMUT; oral sex; irresponsible amounts of fluff; mentions of alcohol/hangovers; a little more smut; PIV; a happily-ever-after that will make your teeth hurt
You stumble backward into your cabin, tangled in Mayday's arms. His mouth is everywhere, trailing kisses across your skin, his beard teasing you almost to the point of oversensitivity, his tongue hot and slick against your neck, your shoulders, your chest. He nudges the control panel to close the door without ever removing his lovely, strong hands from your body, and you almostâalmostâforgive him for being such a hot karking dumbass.
âYou know,â you gasp as you fumble with his belt buckle, âitâs the biggest cliche in nuptial history for the best man and the maid of honor to sleep together the night before the wedding.â
âWho said anything about sleeping?â he asks, unbuttoning his shirt with impressive speed.
âJust remember I still have to make it down the aisle tomorrow,â you reply as you finally get his trousers unbuttoned. âYouâll have to go easy enough that I can still walk.â
âNo promises.â He yanks your dress off over your head and then stills abruptly as he gazes at you, his mouth falling open in awe. âOh, kriff, I am such an idiot.â
You look at him a little uncertainly, hoping that he doesnât regret this.Â
âNobodyâs perfect,â you say with false bravado.
He trails his fingertips across your clavicles and down your chest, tracing the curve of your bra to the valley between your breasts, and then continues, following your sternum and lower down your body.
âCanât say I agree,â he murmurs. âYouâre the most perfect thing Iâve ever seen.â
He kisses you again, his fingers still drawing lovely, intricate patterns across your skin. Youâre so distracted by the sensation that you donât even notice him unhooking your bra until the band loosens and he slips the straps down your shoulders.Â
âFuck,â he whispers as he cups your breasts in his large, strong hands. His skin is rough and calloused, but he touches you with aching gentleness. âI dreamed about this so many times. Youâre so beautiful. More beautiful than I ever even imagined, all those times.â
Under his heated gaze, your skin feels as though fire chases just beneath the surface. He leans forward and rests his forehead on your shoulder, staring down your body. Desperate to feel him, you splay your hands across his broad, bare shoulders and up the back of his head, pressing soft kisses into his hair as his warm breath fans over your skin. He lowers his mouth to your skin and begins to explore your body with his mouth, kissing a path down your chest. As he does, he guides you gently backward until the backs of your knees collide with the mattress, and he holds you securely in his strong arms as he leans you back slowly onto it.
He follows closely, easing his body between your thighs. His lips close around your nipple, and you arch against him with a breathy moan as his tongue swirls over your sensitive skin. His hands roam over you, stroking, kneading, caressing. He moves slowly down your body, lighting up your nerves as his lips and tongue work across your skin, leaving a glistening, heated trail from your breasts to your pelvis.
He moves backward steadily, until he kneels on the floor next to the bed, and he carefully maneuvers your thighs to rest on his shoulders. Beginning at your knee, he kisses a lazy, meandering trail up the inside of your leg, until you are a whimpering, pleading mess. You roll your hips, trying to entice him closer to your center.
âBe patient,â he whispers, flattening a large hand over your lower belly and pressing you back down into the mattress.
âIâve been waiting for weeks,â you gasp. âIâm all out of patience.â
He licks a long, leisurely line up the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis, teasing you relentlessly. âYouâre not going to let that go, are you?â
âNo!â you reply. âIâm vindictive and horny, Mayday. I swear to the Force, if you donât get that tongue in my pussyââ
He swirls his tongue over your clit and into your cunt without warning, and you let out an abrupt cry, cutting off your own words. He laughs quietly against you, the sound vibrating deliciously into your body, causing you to writhe and grind against his mouth. His hands tighten around your hips, and he holds you firmly in place as he feasts on you. He uses his entire mouth to bring you pleasure: lips, tongue, even teeth, as he sucks and kisses and licks and nibbles.Â
He doesnât allow you to move your hips at all, controlling your body with ease as he presses you to the bed. Faster than you think possible, you feel all of the muscles in your thighs and core begin to tense as Mayday pushes you ever closer to bliss. He slides one strong forearm across the top of your pelvis and clamps down as he begins to tease you with his free hand, tracing his fingertips over your entrance before sliding inside. He locates that perfect spot inside you, and he presses against it firmly, his clever mouth working your clit, driving the tension in your body higher and higher until you snap, convulsing against him as you come so hard your vision goes blank.Â
You ride out your orgasm against his face as your thighs tighten around his head. He doesnât release his forearm, holding your hips implacably in place, drawing out your climax until you fall back against the mattress, lungs heaving and body utterly drained. Mayday climbs onto the bed and pulls you into his arms, cradling your head against his chest.
âDid that make up for the past few weeks?â he asks.
âItâs a start,â you reply breathlessly.
âThen I suppose Iâd better get back to it,â he says with a devilish smirk.
Luckily, the entire wedding party is far too hungover the next day to notice the slight awkwardness of your gait. They pile out of the shuttle with drawn, pinched faces, squinting against the cheerful sunshine of Nakadia. It is a glorious day, to Sunniâs immense disgust. You canât resist needling her, just a little, as revenge for dragging you on a guided tour of Coruscantâs most crowded nightclubs.
âWhat a beautiful day!â you say in a voice that is just a hair too loud. âIncredible weather for a wedding.â
Sunni winces and mumbles indistinctly. Mayday shoots you a knowing look, then walks over to Hexx and pounds him enthusiastically on the back.
âCongratulations, Hexx old boy!â
Hexx sways alarmingly as a sheen of sweat breaks out across his skin. âThâthank you, Commander.â
Fortunately, the wedding will not start for several hours, so thereâs plenty of time for people to recover, whether by sleeping it off, indulging in a little hair of the voorpak, or in Braxâs case, a hurried trip to the refresher. Several liters of water, two mimosas, and four hours later, Sunni is back to her usual radiant selfâor at least close enough to fool the droid in charge of her hair and makeup.
âI have seen worse,â it declares as it twists Sunniâs hair into a stunning work of art.
The ceremony is timed to coincide with the sunset, and as Hexx and Sunni exchange their vows against the vivid crimson backdrop, you meet Maydayâs eyes with a tiny smile, remembering his words from the day youâd met: We do what we can for them, but in the end, we have to trust them to know what theyâre doing. Hexx and Sunni gaze at each other with naked adoration, and it occurs to you that yes, in fact, they do know exactly what they are doing, and they are going to be just fine.
The party begins at dusk and goes on until the small hours of morning, or so you gather. You donât stay to witness all of the festivities. Instead, long after night has fallen, as the stars twinkle over the dancing guests, you and Mayday slip quietly away into the darkness and make your way back to the farmhouse.
âYour bed is way more comfortable than the one in my guest room,â Mayday observes as you push him into the mattress.
âAnd to think, you could have been enjoying it this whole time,â you tease, rolling your hips to take him deeper inside your body.
âHoly kriff, you feel amazing,â he pants. âYouâre still mad about that?â
He pulls you closer and nuzzles his face against your breasts as they sway and bounce over him. His tongue flicks over your nipple and then draws it into his mouth, pulling a soft, delighted moan from you.
âBy my count, youâve only made me come five times so far,â you point out breathlessly. âThatâs not even one for each week weâve known each other.â
He grips your hips in his hands to steady you and abruptly flips you both over so heâs on top of you, cock still buried deep in your cunt.
âI suppose Iâll need to get those numbers up, then.â
The next day, after all the guests have departed, Mayday stays to help you clean up after the wedding. There is so much to do that he stays the next night as well, and the next. On the fourth night, you mention that the night-blooming macan flowers should begin to open soon.
âNever seen a macan flower,â he remarks casually.Â
âTheyâre lovely. It would be a shame to miss it,â you reply.
Tragically, the macan flowers do not bloom that night, or the next, or the one after that. By the time they finally do, you both have stopped pretending. Mayday doesnât have much in the way of personal belongings, so itâs a simple matter for him to move into the farmhouse. He fits seamlessly into your home, and by the time you realize youâve fallen completely in love with him, you cannot imagine ever disentangling your life from his.
After Sunniâs wedding, word about your farm spreads quickly in the GAR. During the reception, you had overheard several guests discussing the beauty of the location, and more than one couple speculating about the possibility of celebrating their own wedding at your farm. Before long, you have a thriving side business as a clone-friendly wedding venue. Mayday was rendered fully speechless the first time a member of the 77th Heavy Brigade asked him to officiate their wedding. His reactions improved after that, but he still hasnât quite gotten used to the idea that all of his men still want their old commander to be the one who presides over their weddings.
Mayday is fully retired now, and life on the farm suits him. He spends his days on woodworking projects, or helping you on the farm, or sprawled out on one of the cozy chairs in your reading room, diligently making his way through your entire book collection. Thereâs a little more gray in his hair, and a few more lines around his eyes when he laughs, but heâs just as handsome and commanding as he was the day you met him. His former troopers visit often, as do Sunni and Hexx, and Maydayâs favorite woodworking project ever is the cradle he made for them about two years after their wedding.
Your own wedding is a quiet affair. Sunni and Hexx are there, of course, with their darling little boy. He has Sunniâs smile and Hexxâs eyes. Veetch attends with his latest conquest, a genial and quietly witty Twiâlek who has the trooper absolutely wrapped around his finger. Tarsi also attends, shamelessly taking credit for your match with Mayday, since, according to her, you would never have met if she hadnât set up Sunni and Hexx.
âItâs the transitive property, darling,â she declares.
You do have to make one slight alteration to your original, hypothetical wedding plans, though. Mayday requests a brunch party instead of dinner so you still have plenty of time to watch the sunset together from the front porch.
A/N: Thank you to @nika6q for letting me steal the line about Mayday being a hot karking dumbass!
I don't really know how to request. But what if fives somehow matched with an old fling he had feelings for early in the war and they rekindle that old romance? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS AU BTW!!!
Attention writers! We have a reader request/prompt!
This is a perfect way to request, and what an amazing idea for a fic!
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âGorgeous,â Sunni declares with a flourish as she steers you toward her mirror.
âIâm not sure why youâre going to this much effort on me when youâre supposed to be the center of attention,â you point out as you turn obediently.
âBecause you deserve a little pampering, and you never have an excuse to get dressed up on Nakadia,â Sunni replies. âWhat do you think?â
You examine your reflection, taking in the artfully arranged hair, the perfect makeup, and the dress that displays a tasteful amount of skin while concealing all the things you prefer to keep to yourself.
âYouâre a magician,â you reply frankly. âI canât remember the last time I took so long to get ready.â
One of the bridesmaids, Tarsi, flops down on the bed and takes a sip of sparkling wine as she declares, âNothing wrong with a little self-indulgence every now and then. Everything in moderation, including moderation, am I right, ladies?â
The other two bridesmaids chorus their agreement from the adjoining room, and you smile. Unsurprisingly, Sunni has a delightful group of friends, and theyâve made the week leading up to the wedding far more fun and relaxed than you expected. Tarsi does have a bad habit of trying to talk you into signing up for RTL, though; sheâs so proud of her success with Hexx and Sunni that sheâs determined to find a match for every one of her friends.
âYouâre beautiful, kind, successful, and you live on the most idyllic planet in the galaxy,â she declares. âTroopers will be lining up around the block to meet you. How do you feel about children?â
âIâll pass,â you say firmly.
âOn the children or the troopers?â
âBoth,â you reply.
Tarsi pouts but lets it go. Meanwhile, the other two bridesmaids, Brax and Mione, burst into the room carrying a round of raava shots.
âPregame!â Brax announces. âEverybody grab a shot.â
âOh, no!â you laugh. âIâm the designated drunk-herder tonight. It is my responsibility to make sure you all make it onto the charter shuttle to Nakadia at the end of the night so this wedding can actually happen. I need to keep a clear head.â
âOne shot isnât going to do anything,â Sunni declares. âAs bride, I hereby absolve you of all responsibility if Iâm late to my own wedding. Now take the shot.â
You roll your eyes in good-humored exasperation, and you all toss back the raava, reactions ranging from Tarsiâs delicate cringe to Braxâs exaggerated sputter.
âWell, that was awful,â Sunni coughs. âShall we get this party started?â
The group makes its way through several bars and dance clubs in Coruscantâs mid-levels, each successively louder and more crowded, before heading to a place that is apparently well-known to Sunni and her friends. As the five of you pile out of the air-taxi onto the landing platform, a gigantic sign reading 79âs bathes you all in a neon haze. There are an unusually high number of clones milling about outside the club, but Sunni and the others head straight for the entrance, throwing open the doors dramatically.
âGentlemen, I have arrived!â Sunni announces with a confident swagger born partly of inebriation and partly of her own innate love of a spectacular entrance.
From inside the club, a cacophony of male voices lets out a deafening cheer interspersed with a few whistles and catcalls. Not for the first time of the night, you wish that you were getting as lit up as the rest of the group, because from the sound of things, you are about to head into exactly the kind of crowded, chaotic environment that seems perfectly designed to trigger your panic response. Right about now, you would kill for some liquid courage, but none is forthcoming, so you square your shoulders and walk into the club.
Itâs crowded, smoky, and dark, and the music is loud enough to buzz across your skin and throb in your chest. It is also packed with clones, all of whom look absolutely delighted to see your group.
âWhat is this place?â you call to Tarsi over the roar of the crowd.
âClone bar!â she yells back. âIsnât it great?â
âGreat,â you parrot back with false enthusiasm.
Unsurprisingly, the bartender has already poured a round of shots for your group by the time you reach the bar, courtesy of some unknown patron. You know you shouldnât drink yours, but itâs been hours since you had the raava shot, and you have a feeling youâre going to need it if youâre going to make it out of 79âs without going ballistic, so you toss it back quickly. Within seconds, all five of you are pulled onto the dancefloor, and at least two clones begin to grind on each of you. There are so many people, and your heart starts to race as the crowd presses against you. The lights flash disorientingly. Itâs hot and sweaty and loud, and your cheeks are starting to cramp from the overly bright smile youâre trying to keep in place.Â
You look over to Sunni and are surprised to see her dancing with Hexx. Veetch is plastered against Tarsi, along with a clone you donât recognize. You canât see Brax or Mione, because there are three farking clones grinding their dicks against you, and if you have to put up with this for another minute you are going to kriffing lose your shit!
Abruptly, a hand closes around your wrist and pulls you gently but firmly away from the sausage fest. A little space opens up around you, and you finally feel like you can breathe again. You turn to thank your rescuer, and your heart gives a hard, involuntary lurch when you recognize Maydayâs long, dark curls. He asks a question that you canât hear over the music. You shake your head and point to your ears. He nods in understanding, and his eyes are so damned kind that you want to weep with relief.
Another strange clone starts to move toward you, but Mayday fixes him with a stare that has him putting up his hands and backing away. You donât want to leave the dancefloor and abandon Sunni and the others, but youâre not sure how youâre going to be able to stay, either. Mayday moves closer and rests his hands on your hips. You glance up at him, startled. He gives you a reassuring smile and starts to move your body to the rhythm of the music.
âI thought you didnât dance!â you try to say over the music, but he shakes his head to indicate he canât hear you, either.Â
Instead, he pulls you closer to himself and oh, Maker. He does dance. Heâs a really kriffing good dancer. He moves with a sinuous grace that has your mind racing with the possibilities of what else he can do with moves like that. And while his hands stay well within respectful boundaries, they leave a trail of blazing heat as they move across your body.Â
You war with yourself. Mayday has you dizzy and off-balance. One moment heâs looking at you like youâre the only person in the galaxy, and the next heâs telling you not to touch him. But now heâs caressing your waist and hips like he never wants to stop, and heâs shielding you with his body, and heâs keeping you safe in the midst of the crowd. Itâs a heady experience, to be at the center of that intense focus. Eventually, you stop thinking and simply let go and exist in the moment.
You lose track of time, of place, of peopleâit all fades into the background, and all you can see is Mayday. The way he touches you, moves you, guides you through the dance. He turns you so your back is to him, and you lean against his strong body, your hips swaying against his. You raise one hand over your shoulder to tangle in his hair, and you feel the heat of his breath against your wrist. His fingers trail over your arm, lighting up the nerves and sending tingles racing through you. And then his mouth descends onto your bare shoulder, his beard teasing your sensitive skin as he works his way up the side of your neck. Your knees nearly buckle at the sensation, but somehow you hold onto both your balance and your dignity.
You are shocked when the bartender announces the last call. How has the time passed so quickly? Youâve been so wrapped up in Mayday that you didnât even notice as the crowd began to thin, and now it is time to round up the rest of the wedding party and head to the spaceport, where the luxurious private shuttle Sunni has chartered awaited your arrival. You and Mayday are the only reasonably sober members of the group, and so you coordinate with him to hustle everyone into two air taxis.
Itâs a loud and raucous trip to the spaceport, but eventually, you bundle Sunni and the others onto the shuttle and perform one last headcount before Mayday signals the pilot to depart. It takes a significant amount of time and effort, but eventually, everyone aboard makes it to their assigned quarters, and you retreat to the shuttleâs opulent lounge to decompress and have a well-deserved drink.Â
You stop short when you enter the room and find Mayday already inside. You flirt with the idea of fleeing, of going straight to your quarters and trying to get some sleep on the long jump to Nakadia, but itâs too late. Heâs already spotted you, and you canât avoid him without being openly rude.Â
âIâd forgotten how exhausting it is to wrangle drunk people,â you say as you enter the room.Â
âMmm,â Mayday agrees with a rumble. âMakes fighting the war look easy.â
âNo, it doesnât,â you reply.
He smiles. âYouâre right. Want a glass?â
âI think weâve earned it,â you reply, settling into an armchair as he pours two tumblers of liquor out of a mysterious decanter.
The tawny liquid catches the light as he hands you a glass, reminding you of his eyes. You sniff it curiously and are greeted with a sweet, smoky aroma.
âI knew you were a whiskey man,â you say as you clink your glass quietly against his and take a sip.Â
âI donât usually turn down a free drink,â Mayday replies. âThat doesnât mean I donât know the good stuff when I see it.â
You regard him steadily before you ask, âIs that so?â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â he asks, his eyes guarded.
âI canât figure you out, Mayday,â you say.Â
At least he doesnât insult you by pretending to misunderstand. He watches you for a moment, and when you donât flinch under his scrutiny, he takes another drink of his whiskey.
âI told you I donât play games,â he says.
âYou could have fooled me,â you retort.
âYouâre with someone else,â he says in a low voice. He sets his jaw firmly, but his eyes flicker over your body, and for an instant, you see a flash of naked hunger in them. âIâm not going to chase after someone whoâs unavailable.â
What the kark? Your eyebrows snap together. âIs that why you couldnât keep your hands off me tonight? Why every time weâre in the same room, you look at me likeâlike that?â
âWhy the kriff do you think I was avoiding you?â he growls. âWhen Iâm with you, I canât think straight. I am trying to respect your relationship, but fuck, you drive me wild.â
You let out a short, angry laugh and drain your glass. âYou think I would dance with you like that when I was with someone else? I didnât realize you had such a poor opinion of me.â
âYou said you were taken. Youââ he pauses as though the words choke him with their bitterness. âYou planned your wedding.â
âThat was hypothetical!â You set your glass down with a snap as you rise abruptly. âIâm going to bed. Alone. Like I do every night. Which you should have realized when you spent a week in my house.â
âWeâre not finished,â Mayday says, rising to block your exit.
âThereâs nothing else to say,â you snap.
âWhat the kark did you expect me to do?â he demands. âI met the girl of my dreams, and two seconds later she told me she wasnât interested.â
âI said I wasnât interested in RTL!â you exclaim. âA matchmaker sounds like my worst nightmare. Although at least it would have prevented this level of absolute banthashit.âÂ
âThenââ he begins.
âFor karkâs sake, how much clearer can I possibly be?â you cut him off. âDo I need to hang up a neon sign that says OPEN FOR BUSINESS? Do you want me to send you a handwritten letter? âDear Mayday, please tear off all my clothes and have your way with me on the nearest available surfâmmph!ââ
Maydayâs mouth cuts off your tirade. His lips crash against yours, his tongue sweeps into your mouth, his hands pull you close against him. He tastes like whiskey, and he smells like woodsmoke and spices, overwhelming your senses. You clutch his shoulders for balance, and then immediately slide your hands up his neck to twine your fingers through his hair. You tug on it gently, and he groans into your mouth in response. His arms tighten around you, pinning you to him as he grips your ass and grinds his hips against you. You let out a strangled moan as you feel the hardness of his cock press against your abdomen.
âThis karking dress,â he rasps, breaking away from your kiss for a moment as his fingers find your hemline and snake up the inside of your bare thigh. âDid you wear it just to torture me?â
You open your mouth to respond, but he preempts your response with another breathtaking kiss. He slips past the lace of your pantiesâthank the Force I wore pretty onesâand glides his fingertips over your heated skin. His hands are as clever and talented as you knew they would be, and a fresh wave of irritation hits you. You tug his hair lightly as you pull away from his kiss.
âIâm still mad at you!â you exclaim. âWe could have been doing this for weeks, ooohââ
He slides one of those thick, skilled fingers into you as he drops his mouth to your throat.
âIâm planning on doing it a lot longer than that, meshâla.â
Welcome to our weekly roundup! Below, you'll find a list of all the Clone Matchmaker AU fic submissions and reader requests/prompts we received in the last seven days. Roundups post on Fridays, and entries are listed in the order received. Submissions received after 9 PM Pacific time on Thursdays will be included in the next week's roundup.
Thank you to all of the talented writers who have so generously contributed their work! If you have a fic, a prompt, or an artwork you'd like to submit to our page, please check out our submission guidelines, and when you're ready, submit your fic!
See the full masterlist with all stories here!
This week's submissions
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 1," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit - Commander Mayday
"Take a Chance (Part 2)," by @multi-fan-dom-madness - Crosshair
"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 2," art by @nika6q; fic by @dystopicjumpsuit - Commander Mayday
After another day of dirty, sweaty work, you hurry through your shower and grab two bottles of beer out of the conservator, opening them quickly and heading to the front porch for your nightly rendezvous. Mayday hasnât arrived yet, which is a first, so you settle in to wait for him. The sun dips lazily below the horizon, lighting up the sky in brilliant shades of pink and gold, and then fading into a lavender haze, and finally darkening to a field of deep blue dappled by brilliant points of light as the stars blink into view. You finish your beer slowly, and then drink the second as well, wishing you hadnât opened it so hastily earlier.
Itâs surprising and a little alarming how quickly youâve adopted your evening conversations with Mayday into your daily routine, and how much you miss it tonight. You canât help but wonder, What will I do when he leaves?
Eventually, once the evening has fully transitioned to night, you stand with a sigh, stretching your tired muscles and making your way into the house. You canât stay up and wait forever; tomorrow will be another hard dayâs labor, and you are already exhausted. Everyone else has already gone to bed, and the house is as quiet as it can possibly be considering the sheer number of clones currently sleeping in your guest bedrooms.
Just as you turn off your bedroom light and settle into bed, you hear the sound of an approaching speeder bike. You rarely receive guests, particularly not in the middle of the night, so you hop out of bed and cross to your window to peek outside. The vehicle slows to a halt in front of your garden, and the rider dismounts and leans against the bike.Â
Mayday. You recognize him immediately. He stares contemplatively at the garden for a while, and then he turns his head and looks directly at you. His movement startles you, and you nearly flinch away from the window before you realize that you are standing in total darkness and there is no way he can see you watching him. Can he?
He stares at your window for a long, long time, until at last, he straightens and walks into the house. You donât hear him enter, and you donât hear him go to his bedroom, and at last, you return to your bed and will yourself to sleep, ignoring the quiet voice in your head that asks where he had gone. Itâs none of my business, you think, and you almost convince yourself.
Rain begins to fall in a steady drizzle the next morning. By noon, the weather is miserable enough to chase everyone indoors. Hexx and Sunni, enthusiastic hosts that they are, round up the rest of the clones for a loud game with incredibly complex rules. You scan the group but donât see Mayday, so you slip quietly out the door while theyâre all distracted. As you make your way to the barn, you hear a rhythmic scraping sound that piques your curiosity. Warm light spills out of the open doors, beckoning you in from the cold, gray rain.
The barn hasnât housed animals in decades. Instead, you use it to store your farm equipment and agricultural droids when theyâre not at work, and as a place to dry the flowers that you sell in the off-season. The familiar botanical aroma washes over you as you enter, along with something newâsomething at once strange and nostalgic. When you see Mayday, you slow to a halt just inside the barn.Â
He has set up a workstation at the open end of the barn, and as you watch, he runs a hand planer over a large beam of lumber, shaving off flimsi-thin curls of pale wood that flutter to the ground. You immediately identify the fresh lumber as the source of the unknown scent. That slow, rhythmic rasping sound comes again and again as you watch him work, and something about it sends tingles down the back of your neck.
Mayday hasnât spotted you yet, and you take a moment to appreciate the confident way he moves. His bare hands glide over the wood as he feels for rough and uneven spots, and the muscles of his forearms flex and bulge as he drags the planer across the surface. His movements are hypnotic, mesmerizing. He handles the wood with scrupulous care and attention, and you feel a brief, ridiculous surge of envy toward an inanimate object. He stills abruptly, and you raise your eyes from his hands to see him watching you.
âHello,â you say, feeling a little foolish that he caught you gawking.
He doesnât look angry, though, or even amused. He regards you with the same intense focus that he had directed toward his project only a moment before. You lick your lips reflexively, and his gaze drops to your mouth and then back up to your eyes.
âI came to see if you wanted to come in out of the rain,â you say, feeling a little proud that you managed to get the entire sentence out without stuttering, even if your voice catches suspiciously.
He looks briefly out the door to the torrential deluge. âI didnât even realize it had started raining.â
âItâs been raining for hours,â you say. âArenât you cold?â
He smiles at that. âThis is nothing compared to Barton IV.â
âWhat happened on Barton IV?â you ask.
âNothing good,â he replies. âWe were lucky to make it out alive. If I never see snow again, it will be too soon.â
âYou should be safe from snow here,â you reply. âEven in the winter, we rarely get anything more than rain. Itâs what makes Nakadia such an ideal agricultural planet.â
Ugh, am I seriously talking about the weather right now? you chastise yourself. Still, Mayday looks intrigued as he arranges his tools neatly and walks across the barn to join you.Â
âWhere are the others?â he asks.
âTheyâre all inside playing a game,â you reply.Â
âIâve never been one for games,â he comments offhandedly.
âMe neither,â you say. âBut Iâve also never been one for standing out in the rain when thereâs a perfectly warm house available.â
âWeâre not standing in the rain,â he points out, moving subtly closer to you, close enough that you can smell the vanillin of the sawdust on his shirt; the salt of his skin; and beneath it, the faintest hint of something spicy and warm and a little smokyâsomething uniquely Mayday.
âTrue,â you admit.
He frowns and starts to reach for you before pulling back. âBut you were. Your hair and clothes are all wet. You should go inside and get warm and dry.â
âWill you come with me?â you ask. He hesitates, and you scramble to add, âWe can go in the back and avoid the crowd if youâd rather.â
âIs there somewhere we can go where they wonât find us and drag us into their game?â he asks with a smile.
You shrug. âItâs a big house. Iâm sure we can find something.â
âLead the way,â he replies.
On impulse, you take his hand and tug him along with you, dashing across the field through the downpour. Mayday follows at a more sedate pace, and he slows you down as his fingers tighten around your hand to keep you from slipping away.
âDonât you know you know you get wetter when you run in the rain?â he asks, his voice laden with amusement.
âBut weâll be out of it and into the warm house sooner this way,â you laugh. âCome on!â
He allows you to hustle him along, and soon the two of you slip quietly into the back of the house and kick off your muddy boots. Uproarious laughter bursts from the front of the house, signaling that the game is still in full swing. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you lead him down the hallway and duck into a room, easing the door closed behind you. You turn to see Mayday surveying the room with astonishment.
âWhat is this place?â he asks.
âItâs my reading room,â you reply.
His eyes widen as he takes in the bookshelves that line the walls; the soft, overstuffed armchairs; the small wood stove that crackles cheerfully in the corner.
âIâve never seen so many books in one place,â he says. âAt least, not paper ones.â
âHolonovels are wonderful, but thereâs something so comforting about a physical book,â you say by way of explanation. âI started collecting them when I was little, and I just never stopped.â
âHave you read them all?â he asks curiously.
You laugh. âI intend to read them all, but I have to admit, thereâs an embarrassingly large stack of them waiting for me to find the time. Youâre welcome to anything that catches your eye, though.â
His gaze flicks almost imperceptibly toward you before he turns to examine the contents of the shelves. âWhich one is your favorite?â
âThat would be like asking me to pick a favorite child,â you reply. âI canât choose just one.â
âHumor me.â His voice is a low rumble.
You pull a well-worn volume off a shelf, and then another, and another. Mayday chuckles as you pass them to him.
âIâm not sure Iâll be able to get through all of these in the time I have left here.â
âYou can take them with you, if youâd like,â you offer. âYou can give them back at the wedding.â
âYouâd trust me with them?â he asks.
You think of the care with which he handled the fire lily, the conscientiousness and respect you witnessed as he worked on the planks of hardwood in the barn.
âYes,â you say without hesitation.Â
His hair is wet with rain. A strand has fallen forward, and you raise your hand to brush it out of his eyes, but he stops you, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist.
âDonât.âÂ
Startled, you meet his eyes. They blaze with intensity, but he steps back to put a little distance between you.Â
âMayday?â you whisper.
âDonât do something weâll both regret,â he says quietly.
âSorry,â you stammer as mortification floods you. You pull away from him. âIâll go.â
He doesnât try to stop you as you retreat and close the door behind you. You hurry to your bedroom, pressing your cold hands against your burning cheeks. How could I have misread the situation so badly? No wonder he would have preferred to stay in the barn.
You donât bother going to the porch that night. With all the rain, thereâs no sunset, anyway.
Itâs easy enough to avoid Mayday after that. He keeps to the barn, and you have plenty of work to do elsewhere. You miss watching the sunset each night, but itâs a small sacrifice for your peace of mind. Before many days pass, the wedding preparations are complete. The rest of the wedding party arrives, and your farmhouse is absolutely at capacity, but at least by tomorrow everyone will be gone and youâll have your farm to yourself again until the wedding day. All that remains now is the rehearsal.
It is awkward as kriff. You subtly keep your distance from Mayday as long as possible, forcing yourself not to look at him. You try to focus on literally everything else: the wedding planner, Sunniâs lovely dress, the way Hexxâs eyes light up when he looks at her, the excited chatter of the other bridesmaids. Anything except him. He doesnât approach you, either, so at least that makes your life infinitesimally easier, even though it stings.
Unfortunately, you canât evade him forever, and as the wedding planner hustles the bridal party into position, you brace yourself for impact. Mayday moves to stand beside you, and you meet his eyes briefly. He looks so kriffing handsome, itâs unfair. The late afternoon sunshine glints in his dark curls and lights his eyes in shades of gold. You paste a bland, polite smile on your face as he holds out his hand to take yours. You walk down the makeshift aisle on Maydayâs armâmaid of honor and best man, as bad luck would have it. That unmistakable warm, spicy, smoky Mayday scent washes over you, and you breathe shallowly as you try to ignore it. Itâs a simple ceremony, thank the Force, because you are too distracted by trying to appear nonchalant to pay much attention to the officiantâs instructions.
The ceremony is set to take place with the expansive fields of flowers as a backdrop, and at the entrance to the garden, a gorgeous wooden archway has been constructed. You realize with a start that this is what Mayday has been building since he arrived. The workmanship is stunning. Up close, you can see that the entire structure has been crafted to fit together so perfectly that it requires no screws or fasteners.
âIsnât it beautiful?â Sunni sighs happily.
You nod, unable to speak.
âI had him install it permanently as a thank you for letting us have our wedding here,â she says with a radiant smile. âOur gift to you.â
Your breath catches as Sunni envelops you in a crushing hug. Wonderful. A perpetual reminder of how badly I messed up with him. Just what I needed.
By supreme force of will, you make it through the rehearsal and the dinner party afterward. The food is beautiful and by all accounts delicious, and you donât taste a single bite as you eat. After the meal, the group dances and drinks and parties late into the night as tiny lights twinkle in the trees overhead. Veetch pulls you onto the dancefloor and spins you around until you are giggling and dizzy, and for a moment, the ache in your chest eases.
Mayday doesnât dance, to the visible disappointment of several bridesmaids. He is wrapped up in a discussion with a few other clonesâalso commanders, if you remember the introductions correctly. You refuse to give into your impulse to eavesdrop on their conversation, instead smiling brilliantly at Veetch, who is both charming and a surprisingly excellent dancer. The music changes to something slow and romantic, and he pulls you closer and settles a hand on your waist.
Because you are not totally devoid of common courtesy, you focus on your dance partner instead of looking back at Mayday. Had you looked, though, you would have seen the way his eyes, unreadable as ever, follow you across the dancefloor as you sway in Veetchâs embrace. Veetch flirts in a harmless, meaningless way that you know better than to take seriously, even if you were interested. Everything about him screams that heâs enjoying the single life and has no intention of giving it up any time soon.
So you dance with him and with Hexxâs other groomsmen, and by the time you stumble, alone, into your bedroom, you are so exhausted that you fall asleep almost immediately. When you awaken, nearly everyone has gone. Hexx and Sunni are still there, but Sunni tells you that Mayday had ordered the men to wake up early and ensure the house was spotless before they departed. Sunni and Hexx only stay long enough to hug you goodbye before they, too, leave for Coruscant, and then you are alone.
Summary: Crosshair canât scarcely believe that heâs been matched so quickly. The date he goes on is like nothing heâs experienced before.
Warnings: more Crosshair angst; fluff; more of my matchmaker OC Tal (and a blink-and-you-miss-it of my clone OC Creed); Crosshair has a lot of feelings but doesnât know how to show them
WC: 5.2k
Read Part 1 here!
Crosshair spent the entire rest of the day in agony. Tal had promised to message as soon as possible, but Crosshair needed information three hours ago. Curse Wrecker for shoving his nose into Crosshairâs business. Curse Wrecker for wearing down his walls, lowering his defenses, putting him into this karking situation. It was nearly enough to dredge up the old itch under his skin for a quick smoke, something to take the edge off.Â
No. That wasnât a promise heâd break anytime soon. 99âs wrinkled face flashed in his mind, and he sighed, slouching farther into his desk chair.Â
Heâd sit at this damned desk all night if he had to.Â
Instead of the intel-gathering he should have done in the first place, all he could do now was sit and wait and hope that his target would stumble blindly into his scopes. It wouldnât be the first timeâbut it certainly wasnât his preferred way of completing a mission.Â
He tried, genuinely tried, to not think of this whole endeavor as a mission. The date looming in his near future could very well change the entire trajectory of his life in a way that none of the routine reconnaissance and black ops missions Clone Force 99 took on did. But he couldnât help it. He was grasping at straws, snagging on anything that gave him a semblance of normalcy.
The dim Coruscanti sun had just begun to set, speared by the innumerable skyscrapers that blocked his view, when the comlink chimed. Forcing himself to breathe evenly, he glanced down at the newest message.Â
Crosshairâ come to my office when you can. Nothingâs wrong. Just want this conversation to happen in person.
His brain shut off after the first sentence. Something had gone wrong. His prospective matchâmatchesâsomehow found out who he was and bailed, withdrew their applications with RTL. Worse, the matchmaking service had decided that he was unfit material for their clientele and would be barring him from utilizing the company in the future.
A swell of anger crested through him, burning away the anxiety heâd been wallowing in all day. They really had no idea who they were dealing with, did they? Well, he would just have to go down there and give Tal a piece of his mind.Â
Halfway out the door, he fired off a text to the group chatâgoing outâbefore putting the comlink on silent and shoving it into his jeansâ pocket. The walk to the shiny, chromium-plated building passed in a blink; before he realized it, Crosshair stood peering up at the clean white sign, a scowl marring his features.Â
The receptionist was different from the one he met yesterday, but the man behind the desk seemed to know exactly why he was here as Crosshair stalked to the check-in station. Pressing a button on the intercom, the man spoke in a low tone, holding up one finger for Crosshair to wait.Â
âYes, of course,â the man said. âIâll let him know.â
Setting the phone back in its cradle, the man gave him a cursory smile. âTal will be right out.â
Crosshair grunted in acknowledgement, but refused to sit. He lingered in an aisle between chairs, arms crossed over his chest, pointedly staring at the door that led to the back offices. In the corner behind him, two regs conversed quietly. He felt their gazes bore into him. Normally, it pissed him off; right now, all he wanted was an explanation.
The moment the door cracked open, Crosshair yanked the handle. A young woman, eyes wide as plates and hand flying to her heart, shrieked in surprise.Â
âOhâuh, s-sorry,â he muttered out, anger in his chest immediately dousing with embarrassment. âThought you wereââ
âTh-Thatâs alright,â she said, affixing a smile to her face. Blinking, she peered past him. âCreed?â
One of the two regs stood and straightened his denim jacket before disappearing to the back with the case worker. Before the door fully shut, though, it swung open once more, admitting the familiar figure of Tal.
âSomeoneâs impatient,â Tal noted with a raised eyebrow.Â
With a hard look, Cross merely swaggered past his case worker, taking the monotonous hallways back until he recognized the exact wood grain pattern on the correct door. Tal touched their keycard to it and the door unlocked with a click.Â
âSpeak,â Crosshair spat as soon as the door shut behind Tal.Â
Talâs jaw worked for a moment, their eyes narrowed as they appraised him. âWanna try that one again?â
Crosshair deflated, sinking into the silken futon. He gestured helplessly for Tal to break the news, whatever it may be. It was as close to an apology as he felt capable of mustering right now.
âI just thought you ought to know that the match chosen for you,â Tal began, perching in their seat, hands laced in their lap, âdoesnât exactly live nearby.â
Crosshair scarcely dared to breathe. Eyes locked onto a faint stain in the area rug, he swallowed down the riot of emotions coursing through his body and focused on the words.Â
He still had a match.Â
Exhaling, he dared to glance up. Tal met his gaze with a calm expression of patience.Â
âI can see how my message may have worried you,â Tal said. âBut I wanted to talk in person. These are very special circumstances, and I want you to know all the options.âÂ
Still giving him a choice, still giving him control, even after he made an ass of himself. Mollified, Crosshair nodded slowly.Â
âWhich are what, exactly?â
âEither we bring her here, or send you to her,â they said. âWe recently opened up the applications to other planetary systems, intending to establish other branches wherever clones settled down. It just happens that her application matches yours, not any of the men on her own planet.â
He couldnât quash the childish sense of pride that filled him with. ââSpecial circumstances,â eh?â
Tal nodded and said, âLeadership is willing to cover the cost of transportation for the first meeting at least. I am still negotiating for future meetings should this first one be successful.â
âYouâreâŠfighting for me,â Crosshair said. The disbelief rang harsh, even in his own ears.
âThat is my job,â Tal said with a wry smile. âBelieve it or not, Crosshair, there are people who want the best for you and your brothers. For all the clones.âÂ
Leaning back against the futon, he rubbed his hands over his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes until starbursts exploded across his vision.Â
âItâs a lot to take in,â Tal said. âBut what I can tell you is that she is very excited to meet you.â
âYou showed her my profile?â he asks, lips baring in a half-snarl.Â
âMaker, no,â Tal said with a gentle laugh. âThe moment you let me choose was the moment this became a double-blind process. Once you agree to the meeting, youâll receive just her holoscan and name, and she will get yours.âÂ
Crosshair turned that information over in his mind. Never no mind the fact that he hadnât been the one to give up the choice, it wasnât lost on him that Tal used the word âmeetingâ rather than âdateââremoving a lot of the pressure and anxiety that he still felt over this whole situation. And really, what did he have to lose? His brothers would support him whatever his decision, like they always had, once they processed their own emotions. Sure, heâd probably let this mystery woman down, and Tal, too, but his match didnât even live on Coruscant. Heâd likely never meet her if he didnât do this. And Tal, well⊠Crosshair was no stranger to shutting others out.Â
In reality, the only person who would be hurt if he chose not to do this was himself.Â
Maybe he owed it to himself to try.Â
âAlright,â he finally said. âIâll go to her. See the sights.âÂ
Which is how he found himself, a standard week later, standing in the midst of one of the less busy ports on Coruscant. The shuttle taking him to the nearby system, Stassia, was due to arrive at the terminal in just a few minutes, and Crosshair couldnât keep his eyes off of the chrono. Would his dateâhe struggled over the word, even in his own mindâunderstand if he was late because of traffic delays?
Looking at the chrono meant that he also ended up rereading the series of messages from his brothers.Â
Remember, vod, just be yourself.
That is terrible advice, Hunter. Crosshair, be the opposite of how you usually are. -Tech
Donât listen to Tech. Youâre gonna be fine. Sheâs gonna love you no matter what! Or they wouldnâta matched ya together.
Grinding his teeth, Crosshair shoved his comlink back in his pocket and tried to ignore the conflicting advice. As starships and people flowed around him like water, he remained unmoving, rooted to the spot. There were very few times in his relatively short life where he could recall feeling like this, and he despised every one of those memories.
He was a wreck.Â
Outwardly, heâd never show it. He knew he continued to exude the calm, collected, debonair facade that had practically become his trademark, even as his insides melted to jelly and solidified to permacrete simultaneously. He was being ripped apart from the inside by nerves.
Heâd printed out the holoscan that Tal provided him, the only bit of you that he knew so far besides your name. The flimsi crumpled in his grip before he remembered to relax. Even in a holoscan, slightly pixelated and distorted, he knew you were beautiful. A bright smile and shining personality, he realized, staring down at the flimsi clutched in his grasp, he couldnât wait to meet.Â
The shuttle arrived on time, departed the port on time, and made the jump to hyperspace on time. It did little to ease the heavy stone of nerves settled into Crosshairâs stomach. By the time the ship lurched out of the hyperspace lane, heâd bitten his nails down to the beds, one of them bleeding.
During the war, heâd seen his fair share of planetsâalways in quick bursts, flashes of cultures and climates that sometimes left his mind whirling. In their own ways, every system was unique and beautiful, and this one was no different. The Stassia system was on the smaller side, a surprise given its location in the core, but what little snooping heâd done on the HoloNet revealed a comfortable, temperate planet dominated by agriculture and cattle. As he gazed through the transparisteel viewport down at the vast green landmasses and deep azure oceans of your homeworld, the nerves that had been plaguing him for the past week settled.Â
He was here. He could do this. He would do this.Â
He still had no idea what activity heâd be expected to partake in. Hunterâs first date with his partner had been a simple dinner; Tech took his to the Coruscant Library; and Wrecker met his to watch a speeder race. But that had all happened on Coruscant, a city-planet; this, he mused, disembarking the shuttle, this planet was much quieter.Â
Breathing deep, he enjoyed the scent of hot earth, grass, and animals that filled his lungs. The sun, hanging low in the sky, scattered color across the sky in a vast canvas, oranges bleeding into purples, as fireflies gently warbled lime green across the field ahead of him. âQuietâ was certainly the word for it; this quaint little space port boasted a singular platform and loading dock, nestled at the edge of a small town.Â
A few other passengers had gotten off at this stop as well, all of them nat-born. Crosshair watched in silence as they all rushed off the platform, joining their loved ones who waited along the dirt path that led into town. Skimming the small throng, any hopes that had buoyed up upon landing suddenly burst. He didnât see your face among the crowd.
Biting down on his toothpick, he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and trudged along the dusty footpath toward the town. The closer he got, the more this world came to life around him. The sweet smell of freshly baked bread wafted on the warm evening breeze from open windows, mixing with the joyous sounds of children giggling in whatever game they played. The buildings here were short and square, made of wood instead of metal, but looked comfortable. A string of warm yellow lights flickered to life overhead as he passed through the town center, a latticework of wires, bulbs, and gently chiming trinkets. He watched as lovers linked arms to stroll down the street and parents scolded their spawn for darting too far ahead.Â
And then he saw you.
Standing at the end of the main square, clutching at the strap of your crossbody bag, your face quite literally glowed in the incandescent illumination above. Head tilted back, a soft smile playing over your features, Crosshair had never seen someone soâŠat peace.
He didnât realize he was staring until you seemed to notice him, frozen in place, eyes locked onto your face.
He watched the recognition spread over your features instantly, your eyes widening and smile broadening into a beaming grin.Â
âCrosshair?â you asked, striding toward him.Â
He gave a single, curt nod. âThatâs me.âÂ
Holding out your hand, he glanced down at it before shaking it. Your skin was warm against his, smooth and pleasant. You gave him your name, even though he already knew it, already had it committed to memory, and then resumed fidgeting with the strap of your bag.Â
âSo,â you said, âhow do you feel about going to the carnival?âÂ
âNever been to one.âÂ
âThatâs not what I asked,â you said, squinting up at him, a defiant light sparking there in the yellow lights.Â
Arching one thin eyebrow, Crosshair couldnât help but chuckle. âNo, I donât suppose it was.â He let the word fade, let you sit for a moment to ponder whether he would actually answer your question, before continuing, âCarnival works fine. Lead on.â
âWeâll have to take a speeder bike,â you said. Walking backwards to keep your eyes on him, he marveled at the sudden impulse to turn you around if only to avoid you hurting yourself. âItâs not far. And itâs so worth it. The fried dough is to die for.â
To die for. Every time a nat-born let that phrase slip out around him or his brothers, they always followed it up with some asinine question like, âOh Maker, was that insensitive?â He hated it every time. And now, he tensed, expecting the faux-pity, the sympathy he never wanted. But it didnât come. Youâd since pivoted on your heel to lead him through the gathering dark without a second thought to your words.
He lengthened his stride to match your pace. âYouâve been to it before?â
âEvery year since I was a youngling,â you said. âFamily tradition. But my parents are gone now, so, itâs just me.â
Another reflexive tensing of his shoulders, jaw clenching around the toothpick. Parents, or any mention of families, also set nat-borns on edge around clones. But again, you didnât offer any apologies or even showed any sign that you were privy to the way Crosshair reacted.
He simply grunted in response, not sure what to say now that his usual scathing remarks were unnecessary. You seemed content with his response. The pair of you passed through the rest of the town and came upon a secondary, smaller platform with a half dozen speeders parked on it. Moving to the farthest one down the row, you shot him a look as if to say, Coming?Â
âThis yours?â he drawled, eyes narrowed as he focused on the way that your hands moved with practiced ease over the bikeâs controls.Â
The engine revved to life. Swinging your leg over the main seat, you nodded. âUsed to be my dadâs. Câmon, hop on.âÂ
Somehow, it hadnât occurred yet to Crosshair that taking a speeder bike to this carnival would entail some kind of physical contact. Heâd just assumed that there would be multiple, that maybe they would race, but not this scenario.
He hesitated only for a split second, processing his options in record time, before hitching his leg over the back of the bike and perching onto the narrow passenger seat. Now faced with another decision, his hands froze in the air as he debated where to hold on.
You saved him the trouble by reaching back and, blindly groping, snagged one of his wrists to draw around your middle. Surprise thrummed through Crosshair, the feeling of your skin once again sending a thrill of excitement down his spine. He leaned against your back, settling his chin in the crook of your shoulder as his arms locked around your body.
Pressed against you like this, he felt the way your body shook with silent laughter.
âWas that a test?â he asked flatly.Â
Your laughter rang out as you guided the speeder off the platform and into the tall grass. âNo. Maybe. Alright, yeah, it was. I can tell a lot about a person by how they react to sitting behind me.â
Cross hummed. âWhat can you tell about me?â
âSecure,â you said, and then all conversation ceased as you pushed the speeder to its limits.
The roar of the engine mingled with the rush of wind in his ears. Tall plains grass whipped past; he was grateful heâd chosen denim pants and a thicker leather jacket, the garments offering protection against the sting of the grass. When you leaned forward, urging the bike faster, he had no choice but to lean with you, his chest pressed to your back, warmth blooming somewhere behind his sternum. Even at this speed, whatever perfume youâd put on filled his nose, gentle and peaceful and muted.Â
In the rapidly gathering dark, it wasnât long before he picked out the telltale sign of the carnival. Multicolored lights, strobing and flashing, twinkled like so many beacons in the midst of the sea of grass. You guided the speeder down to a reasonable speed, and Crosshair caught his first real glimpse of the carnival.Â
Red and white striped tents dotted the landscape, sprawled like childrensâ toys, clustered around large mechanical rides. He didnât have names for most of the rides, but already knew that his favorite would be the one just ahead, with four main arms that branched down into double-seater pods. Carnival-goers already sat strapped into the ride seats as the machinery whirred to life. Engrossed, Crosshair watched as the main arms began to orbit the center spoke, and, to his surprise, the groupings of seats rotated around one another.
âThatâs the Scrambler,â you explained, following his line of sight. âWe can do that one first. It makes me real dizzy.âÂ
He said nothing as you eased the bike to a stop a short distance away from the main entrance. A large, lighted arch proclaimed Welcome in stylized Basic; a short queue shuffled underneath as visitors bought tickets and darted off once inside.Â
He followed you, content to let you lead, as he soaked in every new sight. Children tugged on parentsâ hands toward much tamer rides, spinning teacups and dancing bears; gaggles of teens giggled past as they shoved cotton candy into their mouths; other couples, young and starry eyed, traipsed toward the tallest ride, a massive metal circle. But what really caught his attention were the draped stalls. He spied a number of games, all based on aim, all promising prizes of a soft, squishy variety. A small thrill of anticipation hummed through him. How many of those could he win for you?
âCrosshair?â you asked.Â
Yanking his attention back, he blinked down at you. âHm?â
âShould I get enough tickets to do everything once?âÂ
He nodded and fished in his back pocket for the stack of credits that Hunter had shoved into his hands before he left. But you shook your head with a small smile, saying, âYou get food, Iâve got tickets.â
Hesitating only a moment, he nodded once, acquiescing. In no time at all, you exchanged brief pleasantries with the gate attendant, purchased a bundle of tickets, and turned to him with a wide smile, happiness shining in your eyes.Â
âShall we?âÂ
He twitched his eyebrows up in an approximation of a âyes.âÂ
You took a step forward, then turned back, a suddenly shy look on your face. âMay I?â You reached as if to grab his hand.
He studied your face for the space of a heartbeat, drawing in as much visual information as he could, in only the way that he knew how, a product of his engineering. Now that he was over the initial shock of seeing you in person, his enhanced eyesight cataloged every feature of your expression that you probably werenât even aware of. The single eyebrow hair that youâd missed while plucking, the way that your left canine was just a smidge crooked where it gleamed between your parted lips, the accrual of living a life outdoors ingrained into your skin.Â
Crosshair was, by nature, a visual person. He placed a lot of emphasis on both his appearance and how others presented themselves to him. Heâd long since forgiven himself for honing in on the defects, the blemishes, the scars and marks and imperfections.Â
Looking at you now, he found that the imperfections were what made you perfect.
In silent approval, he held his hand out for you to take. Skin sliding against skin, his tongue toyed with the damp toothpick as he marveled once again at your softness. You led him directly to the Scrambler, true to your word; handing over the required number of tickets to the attendant, you shot him an expectant look as the two of you joined the short queue.
âSo,â you said, leaning against the battered metal railing, âRight to Love, huh?â
Whatever warmth had taken root in his chest wilted a little. Arching one eyebrow down at you, he scoffed. âSo, clones, huh?â
âIâll tell you why if you tell me first,â you offered.
The line moved up as the ride came to a clattering halt. He used the movement as a momentary distraction, enticed and yet unsettled by your forwardness. But to his dismay, the attendant shut the gate before the two of you could go through, putting you at the front of the line.Â
As the ride chugged to life once again, Crosshair allowed himself to sigh. âMy brothers wouldnât let up until I set up an appointment.âÂ
The gaze you fixed him with said you wanted to call his bantha fodder, but you just nodded slowly, digesting that.
âYour turn,â he said.Â
You huffed a laugh. âI have high standards.âÂ
Crosshair felt his eyebrows creep up. âStandards.â
âYup.â You fiddled with the fraying strap of your bag. âAlways wanted more than the farm could give me. Not that thereâs anything wrong with the farms here, theyâre justâŠthe same they were when I was a kid. And theyâll be the same when Iâm old and dying.â
âThe stability means nothing to you?â Crosshair asked. Though he supposed he understood your viewpoint: he chafed under routine, living the same days on nearly endless repeat.
Shrugging, you exhaled slowly, turning your face skyward. âI dunno, I just⊠I look up at the stars and know thereâs entire worlds out there.âÂ
He followed your gaze. Heâd seen his fair share of those worlds; he wanted to see them again someday, under better circumstances.Â
âAnyways.â You laughed, sounding hollow and forced. âUm. I hope you like this ride.â
âI will,â he said.Â
And he did. Though it reminded him of some of the cadet training he went through with his batch, the centripetal force pinning him to the seat also smushed you alongside him, your bodies touching nearly their entire lengths. Your breathless laughs and thrilled squeals as the ride whipped around, faster and faster, set his heart ablaze. Dimly, he was confusedâwas this supposed to be so easy?âbut the low chuckle that escaped him felt right. You felt right.Â
He owed Tal an apology, and a thank you.
The pair of you stumbled out of the ride, hair windswept and messy. His lips twitched into a grin as he watched you sway, his own vision tilting on its axis for a moment before righting itself.
âWhere to now, trooper?â you asked, giggling.
âYou pick.âÂ
Hours later, when youâd ridden every ride and after he bought you both some overpriced, overly greasy fair food that you insisted he try (and that he silently admitted was amazing), he finally dragged you over to one of the game booths, intent on earning a souvenir, at least for you, if not for himself, too.Â
You groaned as he tugged you by the hand. âCrosshair, these things are always riggedââÂ
âThatâs because you donât have a marksmanâs eye,â he drawled.Â
Stepping up to one that seemed like it should be simpleâa wall of balloons and a pile of dartsâhe wordlessly passed the worker the trivial number of tickets and accepted the three darts he was allotted. He turned the darts over in his hand, feeling their balance, calculating angles and trajectories and even wind speeds on autopilot. He could do this part in his sleep. No, he was incredibly aware of the way that you openly stared at him, a smile toying with your lips, as you waited for him to prove you wrong.
âWatch and learn, doll,â he murmured, and then he threw all three darts at the same time.
Pop-pop-pop!
Three balloons exploded into tatters as the darts landed in a neat line. Pride reared its head in his chest as your mouth fell open, an admiring gleam glazing your eyes.
âYou were saying?â he said, smug.Â
Laughing in disbelief, he couldnât help but preen as you shook your head. âWow. Um. That was impressive.â
âLetâs make a bet.â The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying.
Cocking your head, you grinned. âWhat kind of bet?âÂ
âI bet I can win every game here.â He held up a finger at the impatient attendant who tried to interrupt.
He watched as you weighed the options for a moment; he could nearly see the gears turning in your mind, the way your brow scrunched as you thought. Then you nodded.Â
âWhat are we wagering?â you said.Â
âIf I win, I pick our next date,â he said simply. He enjoyed the way your smile turned shy, face tilting down for a moment. âIf I lose, you pick again.â
âThatâs awfully presumptuous of you,â you said. But when you reached out and gently ran your fingers across the back of his hand, he knew you were just teasing.
âHey, man, you gonna pick a prize or what?â the huffy attendant asked.Â
Rolling his eyes, Cross jerked his head at you. âPick.âÂ
âOh!â Delight sparkled in your eyes as you quickly glanced over the options. âThe little green frog, please.âÂ
Heâd lost track of time. This was the most fun heâd hadâŠever, and he wasnât even sure how it was possible to feel so connected to a person heâd just met. Let alone a nat-born. Heâd only experienced one fit of angst when he thought you werenât looking, wondering if his snark was grating on you, but every time he quipped, you matched his energy. You held your own. He appreciated it.
But by now, the night was winding down. Fewer people crowded the grounds, and the sounds of screams had declined dramatically. He still had one more game to winâmuch more at stake, of course, than just the stuffed toy waiting for him.Â
âIf you win this one,â you said, arms full with an assortment of squishable friends, frogs and Loth-cats and baby banthas and a number of other critters, âyouâre picking the prize. I canât carry any more.â
âDeal.â His eyes skimmed the prizes in this booth. They were the biggest ones yet, massive Loth-cats that probably stood at least half of his height. It would be so out of place in his otherwise sparse bedroom, but it would be his. All he had to do was win.
With only a couple handfuls of tickets left, he doled out the specific amount for this game. The attendant yawned their way through the explanation of the game: toss the rings over the bottlenecks without knocking any down. If he got all five, he got the big prize. As with every other game, he took a moment to feel the balance of the projectiles, assess angles, get a feel for what he had to do.Â
Maybe it was just the knowledge that his entire bet rode on this final game, or maybe it was something else, but a nagging doubt wriggled at the back of his brain as he held the rings.Â
Shrugging it off, he took one and, aiming, tossed it for the bottle directly in the center. It was a good throwâa perfect one, he knewâbut he watched, horror mounting, as the ring caught the lip of the bottle and bounced.Â
âWhat?â he snarled.
Tossing the second ring, he aimed for the same bottle, and again, the ring bounced. Kark. He gritted his teeth and tried again, adjusting his stance. This one was a little better, it at least flipped over the neck of the bottle behind the one heâd aimed for. Holding his pose, he tossed the remaining two rings and got them both on.
You snorted a laugh at his side. âTechnically, you won.âÂ
âNo, I didnât,â he ground out. Throwing tickets at the attendant, he scooped up another five rings.Â
Taking his time, he held each individual ring to get a feel for its particular balance. Four of them sat in his hand, identical in every way; but the fifth, that traitorous little piece of plastic and rubber, was unbalanced by the tiniest margin, something heâd obviously missed in his overconfidence the first time.Â
He threw that one first, accounting for its unfair design, and it slotted home on exactly the bottle he aimed for. Triumph burned hot and fierce in his chest. The other four rings landed perfectly, as well, testament to his skill as a marksman. And as he clutched the giant, white-and-gray Loth-cat plush to his chest, he caught the way that your gaze softened as you studied him.Â
âWhat?â he asked.Â
You shook your head. âNothing. Do we have enough tickets left for the Ferris Wheel?âÂ
Only three tickets remained clutched in his palm. The Wheel, he saw, peering over the dwindling crowd, required two tickets per rider. His heart sank in his chest, a peculiar, unfamiliar feeling.Â
He saw the exact moment that your disappointment registered, and his heart squeezed. He hated the way that your face fell, eyes downcast, before you reassembled a falsely cheery mask over your expression.Â
âThatâs alright,â you said, forcing a smile. âWe did a lot tonight.â
Crosshair was already searching the ground, eyes darting around in an attempt to locate any stray or discarded tickets. He would fix this. He would make you happy.Â
There.Â
Balancing his Loth-cat on one hip, he bent to retrieve the trampled, soggy piece of paper. He held it aloft with the barest hint of a grin. âYou were saying?âÂ
Crosshair had never known a softness quite like the one in your eyes as you beamed at him.
