That Hip Pop…. 🔥

Perfect NYE situations! #i want to date ALL of these clones now #sweatpants and champagne and Jesse fighting and shy Tup and OMG Howzer

I don't have it in me to write full scenes, so here are some fun little drabbles of what it might be like to party with some of the boys on New Year's Eve! PLEASE feel free to add your own and use the tag #2024cloneNYE

Shoutout to @lornaka for the sweet helmet art. Find other dividers like these here.

Tup - Tries to take you somewhere neat to see fireworks, holding your hand and glancing at you sheepishly every now and then, but gets lost along the way. Is simultaneously frustrated at himself and nervous at what you’ll think of him until you pull him into a side alleyway to show him some fireworks of your own. 😎

Jesse - Is so delighted to be spending the evening with you that he nearly gets into three different fights with troopers at the bar because he's just so dang excited. Dances your ass off then takes you out for street food, where he does get in a fight with a handsy vendor. Gives you the best kiss of your life at midnight. 🥴

Fives - Tells you to wear a disguise. Dies laughing when you show up and he is wearing a simple poncho while you have donned a huge fake mustache. Sneaks you both onto a large cargo freighter that is scheduled to depart from Coruscant a bit before 00:00, so that as it’s slowly lifting into the sky, you get a bird’s eye view of the fireworks all around you. Of course, he now needs to figure out how to get you both off the ship without being caught. 🥸

-=-=-=-=-=[SORRY BABES, no Corrie dividers!!]=-=-=-=-=-

Fox - Shows up at your apartment in sweatpants and cracks up at the side of you as you open the door, as you are in sweatpants as well, even though you both had said you were going to “go celebrate” together. But you both knew exactly what you meant by “celebrate”, and you watch crappy holofilms while snuggling on the couch, dozing off until the sound of fireworks rouses you. You gaze blearily out the window, watching the flashing colors as you’re nestled into his arms, then you both drift back to sleep after a feeble “whoo!” 😴

Howzer - Dresses to the nines to take you out to dinner but feels awkwardly self-conscious about it until you distract him by coaxing him into sharing stories about his squad, which light him up immediately. Then he’s got nothing but soft admiration for you, insists on two desserts, and walks you to your front door to finish the evening with a tender kiss. Comes running back to knock on your door about 10 minutes later when he realizes it’s just now midnight and “he kissed you too soon.” The oversight is quickly remedied. 🤭

Hardcase - Finds out where they're setting the fireworks off from and sneaks you in. You both tuck in a tiny little corner between a huge metal structure that holds the firework launchers, and when they start going off, it's so loud that you can't help but squeal. Hardcase also yells in delight, catching the attention of nearby employees, and suddenly pretends he's escorting you off the premises after you'd been discovered sneaking into the area. 😂

Gregor - Grabs some wraps at a food truck and takes you to some random little park where a galactic Mariachi band (they exist, ok?) is playing sweet beats. Dances with zero shame, with and without you. Drags you up a nearby hill to see fireworks and produces a bottle of champagne seemingly out of nowhere. Forgot glasses though, so you take swigs out of the bottle and choke on the bubbles and foam. Spins and dips you at midnight and finishes with the sweetest kiss.

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Yeah, Tech. What DID you do?

Tech has definitely done something when he is quiet.

Another chapter of The Only Exception by @starqueensthings I love this story so much! Please check it out. ❤️

PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3

Summary: June joins Howzer on a mission for caffeine. She learns a little about his role, his men, his outlook— and he, unknowingly, helps her navigate her struggle as a teacher. For a fleeting moment, June forgets to uphold that self indoctrinated distaste… that long-upheld aversion. For a moment, his companionship feels like nothing she’s ever felt before… nothing that she’d ever permitted herself to entertain… enjoy. But a moment is just a moment. Enjoy the roller coaster of this chapter— please remember certain aspects of a character (snippets of dialogue, facial expressions, etc) are all specifically placed so the audience can witness growth. We all about growth up in this house!

Rating/WC: all chapters are rated 16+ unless stated otherwise | 4475 words.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The jubilant breeze tumbling throughout the confines of the courtyard perched just opposite those glass doors instantly brandished her hair from her shoulders, beaming rays pouring mercilessly from overhead instantly capitalizing on the opportunity to remind her enraged skin of its power, and she near-winced upon feeling her neck prickle neath its unwelcome intensity. 

“You okay?” Howzer asked as they trod down the half dozen stairs toward the locked gate, seemingly noting the sudden cringe atop her features. 

“Yeah, fine,” June answered casually. “Spent too much time by the pool with my friend the other day and I’m still paying for it.” 

“I saw that,” he chuckled, offering a sympathetic little grimace. “I’d offer some advice but I honestly can’t say I’ve ever had too bad of a sunburn.” 

“Yeah, well… Quit braggin’,” June demanded with a smile. “I say this to my best friend all the time: not all of us are gloriously melanous.” 

A tingle unrelated to that overhead radiance rolled down her back as his head tipped backward amidst a genuine laugh, and attempting to veil the flush rising rapidly back to her cheeks, she quickly reached to fiddle with the cuff of her sleeve… only to remember she was not wearing long sleeves, instead awkwardly shoving a dawdling finger neath the strap of her watch and giving it an pointless twist around her wrist.

As it turned out, the Combat Base’s close proximity to their chosen cafe perfectly elucidated why Hutchie’s was an establishment of which she’d never heard. Though for how distant it was from the central, senatorial sector of which June was largely familiar, only mere steps atop the pathway leading toward the jovial tinkle of its distant doorbell exposed how just how favoured of a spot it was for the denizens.  

Yet even more astonishing than the steady flow of travel cup-laden patrons, stolling past with their steaming flimsi containers of delightful aromatic caf, was truly how simple it was to converse with the man next to her. Despite the butterflies in her stomach continuing their silent attempts at internal homicide, chatting with Howzer felt as intuitive as simply placing one foot in front of the other atop that bustling pathway. 

Though their first encounter had far superseded the second in terms of duration, the plaguing ailment and the gentle coaxing he’d required before consenting to treatment had, unfortunately, dominated most of their conversation. Their only encounter since had been tragically too-short to engage in anything more than the hopelessly giddy “hi, I have to run but I really hope I’ll see you soon!” sentiments before the pair parted ways with dopey smiles atop their lips. 

And in the void of pain or urgency, it was difficult not to marvel at just how casually that Captain carried himself. Imbued an insouciant energy of which June was sure she’d never be able to embody as effortlessly as Howzer did, breezy probes at conversation spilled from his lips as if he were intrinsically aware of all the topics she could chitter about for hours (though the way that mildly crooked smile wrapped its way around each word had her increasingly confident she would have been perfectly content to just listen to the music of that accented tone). Meanwhile, those large, boot-clad feet moved unhurried toward their destination as if the pathway itself had wordlessly offered to glide below at whatever speed he’d prefer; thankfully he’d defaulted to a cadence more comfortable for her much shorter legs. 

As they wove through the ambling crowd, Howzer gushed about his Company; the 742nd was, admittedly, an anomaly of sorts. Not only did their authority ladder end with a Clone Commander and not the Jedi General that typically apexed large sectors of soldiers, but a period of extensive training in its earliest days of formation had seen those boys in teal thrust into an unusual hybrid role. Though classified as a “reconnaissance collection company subfractured from the 91st”, the 742nd was often deployed, instead, as an “assault and secure force”, meaning they were just as frequently tasked with infiltrating an enemy base and securing its perimeter until such a time that reinforcements could arrive and claim the location as their own. Yet, he spoke of his career with the same admirable informality as he would speak of the weather, reminiscing of battles as if recalling the events of a party he’d recently attended, and though she was sure it had rendered her expression to something near a slack-jawed grouper fish, that  unforeseen disposition had captured June’s attention and simply refused to free it.  

His perspective of war seemed …well, different to anything she’d overheard from soldiers amidst her duties at work. Often those armoured troopers spoke of their duty with an unignorable severity; of the responsibility they carried to both loyally serve and immutably protect the Republic to which they served; of their allegiance to their CO’s, their brethren, and the legion they’d been assigned; of the demand for stoic, unvarying courage in the face of enemies they’d never seen before. Howzer spoke of governing his men as if they were nothing but a bizarrely oversized and appropriately dysfunctional family— ‘vod, he kept calling them before quickly explaining this was a common Mando’a word for brother. He spoke of their battle experiences as if those teal painted men had collectively experienced several disjointed parts of a larger, harrowing adventure; those that were sadly killed on the way were celebrated to a higher degree than those that survived, as the lost had simply moved on to a more exhilarating life of which none of them knew just yet. He spoke of the unremitting desire and obligation to keep his men grounded— to ensure they felt nothing but relative ease and confidence as they marched into the relative unknown… 

“Just in here.” 

June wrenched her gaze from that enamoring square jaw as he slowed his pace and veered slightly toward a glass door on the right, instead redirecting her eyes upward toward the sign overhead. Hung from the soffit by two oversized copper chains, that deep emerald placard and the loopy gold cursive laying bare the name of that little cafe was immediately familiar, June’s mind quickly extracting the image of the tiny green card she'd opened and cherished some days previous. 

“Oh, thank you,” she muttered upon realizing Howzer had pulled the door ajar and was waiting for her to enter ahead of him. 

But hardly a step through the door and into that foreign space had thrust an inherently wholesome fragrance into her nose; unseen steaming loaves of delicious crusty sourdough bread, carafes of fresh caf gurgling just out of sight, crystallized and caramelized sugars mixed with an enticing blend of aromatic spices… vanilla, cardamom, cinnamon, clove… and something earthy and deeply familiar. 

Though her olfactory system seemed instantly content enough to simply stand atop that threshold and breathe in those potent whiffs of sheer delight, the opportunity was usurped by just how visually overwhelming the interior of that tiny shop was. 

“Wow,” June whispered, gaze dancing fervently from corner to corner, item to item, person to person, whilst her feet took her thoughtlessly in Howzer’s wake toward the treat laden display cases on the left. 

Like her companion, Hutchie’s was nothing short of …different. Utterly void of that sterile rigidity of which Coruscant remained notorious, three steps into that creaky, rustic cafe had June feeling as if she’d been unknowingly transported to a little bistro on a distant planet. High ceilings and limewashed walls worked in tandem to ensure that relatively cramped square footage was suffused with an indescribable, natural comfort. Taking up the majority of the cafe’s interior real estate was a sitting area along the right side; dozens of time-worn wooden chairs housing patrons of all shapes, colours, and sizes, an equi-diverse array of baked treats perched atop tables anchoring those esoteric conversations. 

“Ouuu, Alocasia Zebrina!” June suddenly uttered aloud, excitement surging through her veins as her eyes affixed themselves upon a very familiar-looking striped plant perched in the center of those scrubbed pine tops. 

“Say again?” Howzer asked, the din of chatter echoing around those four corners forcing him to lower his ear to only inches from her lips. 

“Um, Alocasia Zebrina,” she repeated somewhat meekly, the subtle addition of his aftershave in her nose quickly overpowering that fleeting glee. “The plant on all the tables. I have one at home too. They’re notoriously hard to keep alive.” 

Though not robbed of its clarity by the merciless cacophony still ringing around those walls, his chuckling response went wholly unheard, a sharp gasp escaping June’s lips as a searing pain erupted in her knee. 

“Ow!” she exclaimed, left hand absently reaching to steady herself with the nearest pillar of solidity, while the other darted downward to appease her now throbbing leg.

“Sorry,” a passerby grunted. “Busy place. Watch where you’re stepping.” 

“You okay?” 

Again, Howzer went ignored, June’s narrowed gaze affixed on the back of the retreating Zabraki man who had nearly knocked her off her feet as he pushed his way through the throng. 

“What happened?” Howzer tried again, this time successfully stealing her attention. 

“Nothing,” June dismissed, cheeks flushing upon the realization the support she’d mindlessly sought amidst that unexpected jostle was the crook of that Captain’s elbow. “Guy just knocked into me on his way by. I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, this place is always a madhouse,” Howzer answered, resuming normal posture and offering her an apologetic nod. “Stay close.” 

Whether the shift was intentional or not, June soon found the back of her hand near-clamped between Howzer’s torso and elbow, the gentle pinch he’d applied to seemingly keep her grasp exactly where it had landed instantly took her mind off the bruise forming earnestly just below her kneecap.

As they lumbered forward in that lagging queue, mahogany floorboards creaking with every step, June’s focus shifted from the drape of her cold fingers around that scuffed plastoid to the display cases passing on her left side— floor to ceiling shelves presented some of the most immaculately prepared pastries she’d ever laid her eyes on; glazed donuts gleaming like edible orbs neath those overhead lights, richly decadent brownies blanketed in a crust of finely chopped nuts, strudels happily leaking their jellied innards onto the emerald green doilies they laid upon whilst waiting to be ingested. On the other side of that scrumptious exhibit, and only visible through gaps between that prolific array of decadence, scurried a dozen green-aproned staff members. Multicoloured hands of all shapes and sizes appeared routinely behind those delicacies, a sheet of protective wax flimsi draped atop palms preparing to extract the confection that some lucky patron up ahead had just claimed as their own. And though her mouth watered uncontrollably at first sight of a delectable looking meiloorun muffin, June’s thoughts had wandered near urgently toward the egregiously overdue caf her very cells continued to demand with each passing, uncaffeinated moment. 

“Whatcha gettin’?” Howzer asked as they neared the front counter, her nose flooded with that intoxicating yet unfamiliar, delicate musk as he lowered his lips to a mere breath from her ear. 

“Ummmm,” June hesitated, brows furrowing as her eyes danced fervently around the exorbitant list of foreign-beaned caf’s scrawled upon a chalkboard on the wall opposite. “Whatever it was that you sent to my office last week?” 

“That was the Apple Java,” he advised her, pointing toward the center of the list. “Large?” 

“Extra-large…” 

The sudden exposure of that chronic caf addiction, and the way those dark brows raised at her seemingly mechanical, knee-jerk response, would have had her near-cringing neath the weight of self-consciousness had it not been for the smile quickly peeling across those dark lips, twinkly eyes softening as they danced warmly atop her features. 

“Extra-large it is,” he repeated with the subtlest of snorts. 

“I’ll buy though,” she hastily added, reaching to extract her wallet from the depths of her bag as he turned to greet the humanoid waiting behind the cash register. 

“What?” he demanded. “No way! I’m ordering for like sixteen people.”

“So?” 

“So! That’s going to cost you a fortune.” 

“You fed the entire surgical floor with all those treats last week,” June argued with a shrug, removing her hand from the security of his elbow to unzip her wallet. “I can repay the favour.” 

“That was differen—” 

“Trust me when I say: I’m more stubborn than you are, and you will not win this.” 

She watched his once-smiling lips purse ahead of unsaid protests, gaze  narrowing slightly as it bore into hers, seemingly resolute in witnessing the first twitch of muscle that might lay bare any hesitation on her part… but she met that surveying leer with a stern, unwavering one of her own, blue piercing brown as if daring him to object further. 

“Fine,” he consented atop the ghost of chuckle. “But put that hand back.” 

She repressed a smile as he turned and began to order (twelve regular caf, four decaf, and one extra-large Apple Java), every subsequent breath escaping past her lips struggling to ignore the flutter that had erupted in her gut as he'd assertively collected her cold fingers and directed them back to their previous wreath around his elbow.  

“Here’s the Apple Java, and the decaf,” the cashier announced hardly a minute later, passing a familiar looking flimsi cup across that mahogany counter to June’s outstretched palm, and a cardboard carrying tray of four others to Howzer. “We’re just brewing a fresh pot of regular caf. Give us a few minutes, and we’ll call you over when it’s ready.”

June followed in the Captain’s wake a half dozen paces toward one of the smaller tables anchored against the wall, the soul-warming aroma of apple and peekaboo vanilla wafting upward from the container in her hands near-banishing those irksome butterflies. With a small squeal of released anticipation and excitement she popped open the tab on that duraplas lid and took a sip of that scalding delight. 

Snickering at the undeniable joy atop her features, Howzer pulled the nearest chair out from its perch beneath that scrubbed pine tabletop and gestured for her to sit, before placing both that laden travel tray and his helmet atop the table between them and taking a seat of his own. 

“So you’re a full caffeine kinda guy,” June gleaned with a smirk, noting instantly that Howzer had failed to collect a cup from the collection on the table whilst she cradled hers with both hands.  

“Oh absolutely,” Howzer answered, casting the decaffeinated collection of cups in front of him a near-revolted look. “What’s the point of drinking a caf if it’s not to wake you up?”

“Warmth?” June suggested with a small shrug. “Flavour? Even with reduced caffeine levels, it’s a fantastic analeptic. Some like to keep their cortisol levels low. Not to mention it keeps the bowels moving…”  

June hurried to hide the flush rising earnestly to her cheeks behind that flimsi container as Howzer’s head tipped back amidst a full chested laugh that promised to dismantle her composure, nose scrunching neath his amusement and raising the little hairs on her arms. 

“I guess those are all pretty valid reasons,” he spoke, draping an arm casually atop the backrest of his seat and peering across the table at her with that characteristic twinkle behind his eyes. 

She shirked his gaze as discreetly as she could, pretending to pluck a nonexistent piece of fluff from the rim of her drink as she fought to restrain the newly invigorated flapabout in her gut. 

“Tell me about class,” he continued as she hurried to pacify the lingering capriciousness by bringing her caf to her lips again. “What happened that made your boss so happy?” 

June paused only long enough to force that still blistering liquid down her throat before offering him an evasive, one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know,” she mused, licking the remnants of the last gulp from her top lip and sitting up straight in her chair. “The guys in class have always seemed so …uninterested? It's been really hard to get them to engage with any of the content we’ve been trying to teach them, despite doing everything we can to make the lectures interesting.” 

“They’re just not paying attention?” Howzer probed. 

“Right… or paying attention to the wrong thing, or being disruptive. Some of them would just spend all three lecture hours sleeping… Some of them would stare at me like it was some stupid game and it drove me up the kriffing wall… Others at least tried to make it look like they were paying attention, but it’s not hard to spot someone that’s napping with their eyes open… 

“Today they were actually responsive… even borderline excited about what they were learning. I know, for a soldier, it’s probably not super exhilarating stuff that we’re teaching but… I don’t know. I think it’s all pretty cool once you understand the importance of the material? Maybe I’m just a giant dork, but…”  

 “Well…” Howzer started as her thoughts trailed away. “You said it, not me...” 

“Oh ha ha ha,” June feigned with a roll of her eyes, though a smirk peeled across her lips. 

The feeling of his amber-eyed, surveying gaze back atop her features forced her eyes back to the lid on her cup, bringing a cold finger to trail thoughtlessly around the rim of that white duraplas.

“I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to take it too personally,” Howzer continued after a moment’s pause. “That’s a bit of a weird age for troopers, to be honest. This is their first time off Kamino. They’re used to being barked at round the clock by ARC Troopers who wouldn’t recognize ‘consideration’ if it bit them on the ass. All these guys know is having their critical thinking tested every minute of every day, learning respect, and camaraderie, and strategy… all that kind of stuff. Now they’re sitting in a quiet classroom on a foreign planet, separated from everyone they grew up with, being taught combat medicine by civilians. It’s no excuse for, well… staring, but it’ll all be pretty foreign to those guys for a while.” 

Gnawing mindlessly on her left thumbnail, June let his words wash over her, a peculiar sensation lurching deep in her gut that felt something-near …guilt. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, pulling her finger from its clamp between her lips atop the cold realization that maybe… after all these weeks… she hadn’t been the only person uncomfortable in that classroom. “So it probably feels as awkward for them as it does for me?”

Howzer nodded, that infamously warm gaze thankfully lacking any semblance of judgment or critique as it landed back upon her. “Probably more so, considering almost all of them have probably never talked to a girl before. I know the ‘hot teacher’ comment bothered you but… they’re still learning.”   

“Who said it bothered me?” June retorted, though the indignance of her demand diminished instantly upon seeing the deeply skeptical look he cast from across the table. Pursing her lips to repress a culpable grin, she hid behind her coffee cup and asked, “I was that obvious, eh?”

“June, your face speaks louder than your words ever could,” he snickered. “Those eyes could light someone on fire if they glared hard enough.”  

June offered only a repressed snort, unable to offer him the titter he deserved whilst her insides churned amidst a simmering remorse that she hadn’t expected to feel for that century of once-disrespectful soldiers. “Kriff, now I feel like an asshole,” she mumbled. 

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Howzer replied with an appeasing smile. “They’re tough. And if they’re not yet, they will be soon. But—” Abruptly plagued by an unprecedented wash of what appeared to be diffidence, he paused to clear his throat and redirect his gaze to a blemish on the crown of his helmet. “—If you want them to stop staring, I’d maybe ditch the glasses.” 

“What?” June asked, upper lip cocking in confusion. “Why?” 

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started, eyes following his fingers as they began to absently drum atop that worn wooden table. “They’re nice. Um, really nice. Almost distracting… I guess?”  

The profound reddening of his ears nowhere matched that of her cheeks. Skin prickling as uncomfortably as if the beaming sun beyond that tinkling doorbell had managed to scorch both her shoulders and every inch of her face, she instantly lifted her hand again to subconsciously hide behind that emerald green cup. 

“Caf’s up!” 

That stentorian call thankfully spared June the need to respond, and they stood from those rickety wooden chairs as if the seats had suddenly burned white hot below their butts. As Howzer scooped his helmet from the table and tucked it neatly neath his arm, June collected the travel tray and followed him back toward the counter. 

The twelve regular cups of caf had been smartly divided into trays of four like their decaffeinated counterparts, but with one of June’s hands occupied by her own cup, and Howzer’s helmet plaguing the mobility of his right arm, it quickly became little more than a game of tetris attempting to figure out exactly how the only two remaining limbs were going to successfully cargo sixteen steaming cups of caf for the four-block journey back to Base. 

After several precarious and time-consuming attempts at stacking them on top of each other, and much to the mixed amused annoyance of the still bustling queue behind them, June heaved a sigh. “Can you just put that damn helmet on,” she bossed at Howzer atop an exasperated chuckle. “We need your second arm.” 

“No,” Howzer refuted instantly. “I won’t be able to see you properly. And I don’t like having it on if I don’t have to...” 

“You don’t need to see me, you just need to see where you’re walki—”

“But I want t—” 

“‘Kay fine,” she interjected, rolling her eyes and putting her cup of caf down on the counter. “If you balance them on my arm, I can take two trays in one hand and my cup in the other.” Though he cocked an eyebrow at her in a motion of unadulterated doubt, she dismissed his silent concern with an impatient shake of the head. “It’s okay, I used to be a server.” 

Atop the rapidly growing pressure of agitation behind them, June insisted. “I’ll be fine, just do it before someone tries to take out my other kneecap.”  

Looking as though he thoroughly disagreed with this seemingly impulsive plan, Howzer carefully lowered one tray on top of the other on June’s awaiting right wrist, hands lingering only inches from that teetering tower, poised to resume the weight should she let slip even a whimper of discomfort. 

Though it prickled against her sunburnt chest, letting those heavy trays tip backward against her skin diminished some of their burden, and she quickly offered him a nod of approval before collecting her own cup and stepping back from the counter. Once Howzer had balanced his own allotted pair of travel trays, they carefully made for the door. 

“You were going to send a cadet to do this?” June snorted as they traversed that sunlit path back to Base, heart seizing for the fourth time in as many minutes as her dribbling freight gave a perilous wobble in her arms and threatened to douse her lower half in scalding hot caf. 

“Absolutely,” he laughed. “It’s a great character building exercise.”

“Character building?!” she repeated, utterly aghast. “Pffffft! Seems kinda mean if you ask me, but if that’s what lets you sleep at night.” 

“Says the girl who slept in this morning,” he snarked back at her, turning to give her a smirk so dazzling, the discomfort of that hot and heavy cargo momentarily vanished.

“You know what,” June argued neath a chuckle, “I think I deserve a little credit for not sleeping in every kriffing morning. Not only do my shifts never end on time, but my bed is soft, and big, and warm, and a challenge to get out of on any given day…” 

“Sounds like a place I’d like to be,” Howzer chortled, turning to grant a fellow trooper in a suit of white and orange a casual nod as they passed each other along that path. 

Howzer clearly thought nothing of it, continuing toward their destination unaffected by that off-the-cuff remark, and wholly unaware of the way June’s shoulders had slumped near-theatrically in its wake. Yet, June’s stomach fell with speed thrice that of which they walked, disappointment wiping the lingering remnants of that diminishing amusement from her lips whilst the darkest corner of her mind eagerly raised a red flag and flapped it earnestly across her awareness. 

‘So that’s what he wants,’ she concluded, the hubris of her distaste for men instantly usurping the unfamiliar giddiness that had seen her near-intoxicated by his presence for days… weeks. ‘To visit to my bed.’ 

And the sudden and complete banishment of that teased sense of adventure— that fleeting feeling of ‘maybe I was wrong’ or ‘maybe there are men I can tolerate…’ — had that once gloriously enriching Apple Java cascading down the back of her tongue like spoiled vinegar. 

“Sorry—” she muttered after a contemptuous snort, dropping her gaze to her toes and watching that gum-embedded pathway lead them back to Base. “By formal invitation only.” 

An impossibly urgent sense of relief surged through her veins as the first signs of that construction-laden building came into view across the road, the gargantuan glass doors they’d left through some time earlier glimmering in the oppressive midday sun as they approached that barbed gate, stopping only so Howzer could scan his wrist comm below the sensor and permit them access. 

“June?” 

It was only then she realized he’d been talking. Too lost in her own welling disappointment and simmering sense of regret, she’d thoughtlessly tuned out everything around her. 

“Sorry, yeah?” she answered, squinting amidst the effort of finding that olive face. 

“You still okay there?” Howzer repeated, gesturing with a nod to the cargo she’d, once again, entirely forgotten she was carrying. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, knowing if she divulged the small river of scalding hot caf trickling from her wrist to her elbow, it would only further delay the end of this interaction. 

“Okay. Gimme one quick sec,” Howzer requested of her, stopping as the gate closed behind them and shifting his own freight enough to bring his forearm to his mouth. “Spades… come in.” 

“‘Sup, cap?” chirped a nearly identical voice through the static of that hidden communication system. 

“Status on barracks?” Howzer asked. 

“Barracks?” that voice repeated neath an incredulous laugh. “Uhhh… well, nine battalions have landed since last night so it’s safe to say ‘crowded’ is an appropriate word.”

“Duty or dismissed?” 

“Unless uniform policy has changed and we’re allowed to loaft around in our underwear on duty, I’m going to guess dismissed. Why? Aren’t you supposed to be in the briefing anyway?” 

“Meeting doesn’t start for a few minutes,” Howzer clarified, and I’ve, er… got some company. Thanks for the intel.” 

June watched him glance somewhat apologetically in her direction before ending that somewhat cryptic conversation, eyes hardening slightly, as if her labeling her as such was mildly offensive. 

‘Company?’ she scowled. ‘Barracks?’

“You trying to show off your bed, now?” June queried with a cocked brow, watching that sharp jaw tense whilst he chewed his lip, brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he silently deciphered some mental puzzle she wasn’t yet privy to  

“No,” Howzer chuckled, a lop-sided smile returning quickly to those lips. “Trust me, it’s nothing to bat an eye at. Come on, we’ll go through the hangar.”

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Such sweetness 💕

A Mother's Lullaby

501st & Jedi!Fem!Reader

Summary: After returning home from a long campaign, you and your soldiers find it difficult to fall asleep. Echo has a bad dream which starts a chain reaction of clones entering your room looking for a different place to sleep for the night.

Pairing: 501st & Jedi!Fem!Reader

Characters: Rex, Fives, Echo, Jesse, Hardcase, Tup, Kix, Dogma

Tags & Warnings: platonic clone cuddles, snuggles, and kisses, smidge of angst, comfort, fluff

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: I came up with this one from a dream I had. All gestures are 100% platonic. The lullaby the reader sings can be found here. Honestly, these boys need all the cuddles, snuggles, and love they can get. As always, please enjoy! 💚

After being away for several rotations on a long campaign with the 501st, you have finally made it back home to Coruscant. You leave your weary troops in the barracks and head towards your chambers to clean up and get some rest. You enjoy your first warm meal in what feels like forever and hop in the shower to wash the grime off your skin. You let the hot water caress your body as you stand underneath its invigorating spray, never wanting to leave the warmth. 

You finish your shower, slip on your night clothes, and crawl into your bed. You nestle under the covers and take a deep breath, letting the familiar scents of your room fill your senses. There’s nothing quite like sleeping in one’s own bed. At last, you can get some good sleep. Sleep during campaigns is always a hit or miss and never the top priority, but when you’re here, when you’re home, you can sleep comfortably knowing no one is trying to end your life or the life of your men. 

However, tonight you endlessly toss and turn in your bed. You're exhausted, you know it, you can feel it. You want to sleep desperately, but something is keeping you awake. You continue to toss and turn, but slumber seems to escape you. You sigh and stare up at the ceiling in defeat. So much for a good night's rest. After all those long nights on the hard ground with blaster and cannon fire, you wish for nothing more than to sleep.

Unexpectedly, you’re pulled out of your thoughts by a presence entering your room. It’s too dark to see anything, but through the force, you can see exactly who it is. “Echo?” you ask while sitting up against your pillow.

“Ah, sorry to wake you general,” Echo answers while putting an awkward hand on his neck. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” you admit with a sigh as you rub your forehead. “Are you having trouble sleeping too?”

“I…” Echo begins to answer, but hesitates, unsure of how to say what he wants to say. “I had a bad dream.”

You cock your head to the side and give him a sympathetic smile. “Dreams are only dreams, Echo. They can’t hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Echo agrees half-heartedly. “I know.”

You sense he has something else to say, but he is too nervous to ask you. “Is there something else you want, Echo?” you ask to try and get him to tell you. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Echo opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it. He doesn’t want to step out of bounds with you as his general, but he also doesn’t want to go back to the barracks. Finally, he musters the courage and asks. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

You’re initially taken aback by the request, but your heart softens towards the tired clone. The nightmares that plague him must be horrific if he wants to sleep with his general. You think about it for a moment, but decide that it won’t hurt to let him stay the night with you. You pat the empty portion of the bed to the right of you to show him your approval. “Come here.” 

Still a little wary of the idea, Echo meanders his way over to the bed and crawls from the base up to where you are. You stretch out your arm and invite him to rest his head on your chest. He obliges with a little hesitancy and you gently drape your arm over his side and back. You can feel every ounce of tension in his body escape at your touch. He breathes deeply and lets out a relaxed sigh, knowing nothing can hurt him now.

You smile at the clone clinging to you and run your fingers through his hair. As a Jedi, you’re not allowed to have attachments, but there’s nothing in the code that says you can’t show compassion. These clones. They’re children, stuck in adult bodies, fighting a war that they never asked for. They never asked to be created. They never asked to be expendable. They never asked to be slaughtered. The least you can do is to offer them some sort of comfort. 

As you settle in with Echo and to try to get some rest, you sense another presence come into your room. Perhaps you should keep your room locked from now on. As the figure enters your dark room, you can see through the force that its Fives. “Looking for Echo?” you ask knowingly.

“Uh, yeah,” Fives answers with a jolt of surprise. “How’d you know?”

“The domino twins will always be inseparable,” you chuckle softly. “Where one goes, the other usually follows.”

“I didn’t think we were that predictable,” Fives rolls his eyes.

“Let’s just say that it doesn’t take a force wielder to know your thoughts,” you explain with a smile. “Would you like to join your brother?”

“I can’t sleep well without him nearby,” Fives admits as he crawls over the base of the bed and scooches next to Echo.

“Better?” you ask while looking over at him.

“Much better,” Fives answers as he nuzzles into the blankets.

You look down at both the clones now sleeping in your bed and you smile. You never thought something like this would occur, but here you are. It’s not that you don’t want them here, but you do feel a weird sense of maternal instinct as they lay there in your presence. Clearly they feel safe with you, but you’re not sure why. Other than being their General, leading them into battle, force healing their wounds, and giving them pep-talks, you’re not sure why they are attached to you.

Your thoughts are once again interrupted by a figure entering your room. You let out a slightly exasperated sigh when you realize it is yet another clone tip-toeing his way into your bedroom. “Looking for something, Jesse?” you ask the sneaking clone.

Caught by surprise, Jesse stumbles back into the wall. “Uh, well, you see,” he begins to explain in earnest. “Echo and Fives aren’t in their bunks, and they’re usually up to no good when they’re together, so I went looking for them.”

“Well, you found them,” you point out in a hushed tone. “They’re right here, sleeping with me.” 

Jesse pauses as he thinks about the situation before him. “Can…” he begins to ask. “Can I sleep here too?” 

“I don’t see why not,” you answer. Your bed is definitely big enough, but you’re still not sure why all these clones want to sleep in your room. They have the barracks and bunks of their own, and they sleep with all their brothers. It is odd to you, but nevertheless, you let him climb into bed with you, Echo, and Fives. He crawls over the end of the bed and situates himself on the left side of the bed, across from the others. Close, but not close enough to touch you. You smile at his reservation. 

As you begin to nod off, you’re pulled awake by yet another disturbance in your room. You wonder if you’re ever going to get any sleep at this rate. You look up at the figure standing across from the bed and with a sigh you ask them what they want. “What do you need Hardcase?”

“Oh, you knew it was me, huh?” Hardcase asks with a little embarrassment.

“You have a very distinct pattern in the force,” you answer with a small yawn.

“Really?” he questions with great interest. “I do?”

“Technically, you all do,” you explain further. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Jesse, Echo, and Fives aren’t in their bunks,” Hardcase begins to explain. “I thought they went to the refresher, but when they didn’t come back, I got worried.”

You smile at him and his concern for his brothers. “Don’t worry,” you soothe. “They’re right here with me.”

“What?” he questions with reproach. “They get to sleep with you? No fair!”

“Would you like to sleep here too?” you propose, thinking one more clone wouldn’t hurt. 

“Really?” he asks with excitement. “Can I?” 

“Only if you keep your voice down,” you hush as you feel Echo stir under your arm.

“Oh,” he quickly whispers. “Right. Gotcha. I’ll be quiet.”

Hardcase crawls into bed next to Jesse and Jesse wraps an arm around his brother to make sure he feels included. You look around at the group of clones covering your bed and let out a small chuckle. You’re not sure how one turned into four, but there’s no going back now. You can only hope that no more wayward clones will show up in your bedroom looking for a different place to sleep or their missing brothers.

However, your thoughts betray you as you sense Kix’s force presence entering your room. Should have seen that one coming. “If you’re looking for Echo, Fives, Jesse, or Hardcase, they’re here with me,” you announce, deciding to jump to the chase. 

“You sound exhausted,” Kix jests as he folds his arms. “I can make them leave, you know.”

“It’s fine,” you answer while running your fingers through Echo’s hair. You remind yourself why you began this little clone sleepover in the first place and smile softly. “Sometimes, we just need each other.”

“Amen to that,” Kix agrees. “You got room for one more?”

“Of course,” you smile at the medic. “Grab a spot wherever you can find one.”

Kix crawls over Jesse and Hardcase, kicking them playfully in the process, and flops himself across from you near the edge of the bed. He grabs a fistful of covers and nuzzles them softly. You smile wide at his childish movements. They really are just children. Children who had their childhoods stolen from them. You can’t quite reach Kix, but if you could, you would rub his back to lull him to sleep. Maker knows medics need their sleep.

No sooner does Kix settle in, do you feel another force presence enter the room. This one is a little more cautious, as if he’s contemplating that he doesn’t belong. You feel his hesitation and call out to him. “Dogma. You can come in.”

“General,” he acknowledges as he steps closer. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding, Dogma,” you reassure the hesitant clone.

“Can…” Dogma begins, still feeling like he’s not allowed to ask for this. “Can I sleep here too?”

Your heart softens at his innocent and heartfelt plea, and you smile at him. “Yes, Dogma. You’re welcome here too.”

He smiles back and crawls across the edge of the bed and nestles neatly just below Echo and Fives. You wonder about Dogma sometimes, because he keeps to himself a lot and has trouble opening up to others. You feel great reservation from him, even on the battlefield. But you’ve heard from the others that his previous general was abusive and uncaring. It breaks your heart that anyone could be so malicious towards such beautiful souls. They didn’t deserve that.

Suddenly, you feel an intense presence of sadness and fear enter your room. Your heart begins to race as the force scrunches around you. You want to jolt up out of bed, but you don’t want to disturb your sleeping clones. As the force becomes less distorted, you can finally see who it is. “Tup?” you ask with concern. “Are you okay? You scared me.”

“They left me alone,” Tup says through a shaky breath while clenching his fists. “I don’t want to be alone.”

The pain in his voice breaks your heart. Every ounce of maternal instinct in you tells you to get up and hug this sad clone until all his pain is gone, but you can’t get up at the moment, not with all these sleeping clones surrounding your every side. Instead you invite him to come join you by patting the open real estate next to your left side. “Come here, Tup.” 

He rushes over to the bedside and crawls over Kix to get to your side. You open your free arm and let him rest his head on your chest. You can feel a little shake in his body so you rub his back and place your head atop his. “Shhh. It’s alright,” you soothe. “I’ve got you. Your brothers are right here with you.” You feel the force settle around him and his breathing becomes soft.

“I wish I had a mother,” Tup admits into your chest.

You're surprised by the statement, but it’s not a completely unfounded thought. The clones are test-tube babies. Copies from an original source, with no mothers to speak of. Perhaps that is why they feel safe with you. Perhaps, because you are a woman, they feel a certain level of maternal attachment to you. That’s why they feel safe. That’s why they want to sleep here with you. That’s why they relax in your presence and melt under your touch. They just want a mother.

“What’s it like having a mother?” Tup asks out of curiosity.

“I don’t really remember mine to be honest,” you answer. “I was taken from her at a young age to be trained as a Jedi.”

“Oh,” Tup answers sadly.

“But,” you continue. “I do remember that she was warm and kind. She had a good heart and would sing me lullabies to go to sleep.”

“Lullabies?” Tup wonders at the strange word.

“Yes,” you explain in a hushed tone. “Mothers sing them to their children to help them go to sleep.”

“Would you sing us a lullaby?” Tup asks as he nuzzles further into you. 

You’re shocked at the question. No one has ever asked you to sing, let alone sing a lullaby. “Well, I don’t know...” you hesitate.

You feel Echo tug gently at your hem and whispers. “Please?” 

There were several more ‘pleases’ and ‘mhms’ coming from the lumps on your bed. You look around at the seven sleepy clones and wonder how you got yourself into this predicament. But, their innocence captures your heart and you feel a tender fondness for their simple request. How hard could it be to sing them a lullaby? You close your eyes and think back to when you were still with your mother and try to remember the words and the tune she sang to you.

Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby

Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay

And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

May there always be angels to watch over you

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

May you bring love and may you bring happiness

Be loved in return to the end of your days

Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you

I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay

May there always be angels to watch over you

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

You finish the lullaby as tears form in the corner of your eyes. The words of the song unlocked the sweet memories of your mother from so long ago. She was a strong and loving woman, and even though you don’t remember her face, you could feel her embrace you through the force as the lyrics of her soothing lullaby escaped your lips. Such a soft and simple song, but so full of love, care, and comfort.

You look around lovingly at the clones sleeping softly in your bed and smile. Your heart is full. They’re all sleeping peacefully, probably for the first time in a long while. But your happy thoughts are pierced with poison as you remember why they exist. The bloody war. The war that no one asked for. The war they lay their lives down for. Not all of them may come back, but for now, yes, for now they are safe here with you. 

You look up as you sense the final presence you knew would show up eventually. “Captain,” you whisper, trying not to wake the clones. Rex came into the bedroom while you were singing the lullaby and leaned against the wall while he waited for you to finish. 

“I was wondering where my men went,” Rex chuckles while looking at his sleeping soldiers spread out across your bed.

“They needed a little mothering tonight,” you say as you leave a gentle kiss on Echo’s head. 

Rex smiles. “I can see that.”

“Will you join them?” you ask. “There’s room for one more.”

Without much convincing, Rex pushes himself off the wall and crawls onto the foot of the bed. He lays sideways at the edge, positioning himself to guard over his men. Rex is a great leader and a great Captain. He cares deeply for each of his men and puts their safety above his own. It’s just like him to take the most vulnerable and uncomfortable position so his men can relax and feel covered under his dutiful watch. You smile fondly at their brotherly bond. 

You let out a small sigh and lean over to the left to leave a small kiss on Tup’s head. You would kiss them all goodnight, but the rest are too far out of your reach. “Codladh sámh, my little ones,” You whisper while leaning your head back against the pillow to finally let yourself fall asleep. “Dream of a life far away from this one.”

Masterlist

A03

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@tlmtwelve made me giggle so much with this one!

#arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #tcw #the bad batch

Prompt : Clone Karaoke

Since I already had the background made for yesterday's sketch, I of course had no choice but to reuse it for the first @weekly-star-wars-prompts! (everyone go check out the page for weekly inspirations)

Alt version:

I'm really happy with this :)

“The time is always right to do what is right.” MLK

Padawan Avery was a bright light in that morgue of mud. Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Aay’han.

Thank you Pina for this deeply felt story and for your brave OC. I hope to read more with her. ❤️

The First Cracks

Summary: Avery Leto, Jedi padawan and healer in training, is sent on a mission to act as field medic during The Clone Wars. What she sees will begin to shape her perspective of the war and the troopers fighting in it.

Warnings: This one’s going to hurt guys. There’s blood, there’s death, there’s Pong Krell being Pong Krell.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Yet another fic that I thought I’d reposted after my blog deletion but I found it tucked away lol. Enjoy hating Pong Krell all over again I guess 😆

She stood there in the aftermath of the battle. The brewing storm whipped her padawan braid across her face while small frigid rain drops beat against her skin. They’d won, or so she’d been told.

“Another victory in the bag!” Master Krell boasted, pushing out his chest in an impossibly arrogant fashion. Pong Krell had come in Master Yoda’s place much to everyone’s dismay.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. So many dead men. Was his victory worth this? The Republic would think so. His impeccable record was held in high regard by the Senate.

“General Krell. Commander Leto. We’ve almost finished securing the injured. We will be ready for departure soon.” Clone Commander Gree sounded exhausted. She stepped forward toward the carnage before her. She had a feeling she had to help at least one more trooper. She wasn’t sure if it was the Force or anxiety but whatever it was compelled her back to the field.

“What are you doing, Padawan Leto? We are shipping out. Get on the transport.”

She paused, squaring her shoulders and looking Krell in the eye, “Master Krell, I am making one more round to ensure all men are accounted for. As the medic assigned to you for this mission I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t.”

Krell huffed, “It’s an awful lot of fuss for some clones.”

She saw Gree flinch as Krell marched back to the transport. She placed her hand on the Commander’s arm, “If any of your brothers are still alive out there, I’ll find them.” He tilted his head toward her, a sad smile hidden by the helmet he wore.

The rain had picked up intensity forcing her to pull her cloak tightly against herself. She felt nauseous as her boots sloshed through a mud composed of dirt, rainwater, and blood. So much blood. Droids don’t bleed, this was from her men. She swept the field with the Force, hoping, praying she could save one more. A fresh faced young padawan, only 20 years of age when the war began; now one year in and she felt older than Master Yoda some days.

Her ruminations were interrupted by the beeping of a lifesigns alert. Her heart lurched. A survivor. She ran, her GAR standard issue medic bag swaying, the weight of it threatening to steal her balance in every hurried step. She ignored the gut wrenching splash of the bloody water being kicked up her legs and the sound of Krell’s voice demanding she come back. Then the screaming began. He was scared, in pain, alone, and screaming for his brothers.

She slid to a stop and fell to her knees next to the clone, “Trooper! Trooper I’m here!” She gently removed his helmet. Her heart broke at the terror in his eyes.

“It hurts! It hurts! Please help me! Help me! Oh by the Force it kriffing hurts!” He was just a shiny.

She shushed him with the gentleness of a mother he never had, “Eyes on me, eyes on me. I’m here now.” She touched him with the Force and wanted to throw up. He wasn’t going to make it. She couldn’t save him. She positioned herself perpendicular to him, gently placing his head on her lap, “I can help with the pain. Would you like that?”

“Please! Yes, please!” His sobs were agonizing. She brushed his head softly, wiping the raindrops away. She breathed and called on the Force, her hands pressed to his temples. She felt him relax and all his fear and pain dissipated.

“Are…are you an Ethereal?” He panted as the wave of relief swept over him.

She laughed, “No, just a lowly padawan and medic.”

He paused as he studied her face, “I’m not going home, am I medic?”

Her smile dropped as she looked away. She couldn’t answer him. He knew and she was too cowardly to confirm the inevitable.

“It’s okay.” He grabbed her wrist, “I’m not scared anymore. I don’t know what you did to me but I’m not scared.”

She stroked his brow, “Good. You’re not alone, trooper. I’m here. I won’t be leaving your side.”

He smiled and managed a weak laugh, “If they’d told me in training I’d be dying in the arms of a beautiful girl I would have told them they were crazy.”

“Commander Leto, General Krell has sent me to retrieve you and bring you back to the transport ship,” Commander Gree’s voice startled her as he knelt next to his brother. She hadn’t heard him approach, she’d have to work on dividing her attention on the battlefield better.

“You can tell General Krell I said he can eat bantha poodoo, Commander. I’m not leaving his side.” She even shocked herself at the harshness of her tone. It wasn’t his fault Krell was a pathetic excuse for a Jedi and an even worse general. “My apologies commander. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

Gree held up his hand, “It’s alright. I understand. But I do have orders to bring you back.” She pondered all of her options. She wasn’t leaving this man to die alone. It was out of the question.

And then she had an idea, “Commander, yell at me.”

“Sir?”

“Yell at me. Demand I go back with you. Krell will hear you. I’ll give you a….gentle…force push. I promise I won’t be rough, but it will be enough for Krell to think you’ve done your job and you won’t be on the receiving end of his temper. The consequences of my actions will fall on me and me alone. I’m not leaving your brother’s side.”

The Commander removed his bucket, and Avery realized it was the first time she’d seen his face. “Thank you. And I am sorry for what I am going to say next. I don’t mean a word of it.”

She nodded, smiling softly silently acknowledging his apology. She glanced and saw Krell watching, arms crossed. Even at that distance she could see the scowl on his face. “Go ahead,” she whispered. And so he did.

Her plan worked, and before she knew it Pong Krell was standing over her screaming, “You’re wasting time you petulant child! Over some clone! There are thousands more to replace him! He won’t be remembered or missed and you’re here wasting precious time on him! Get up and walk to that transport ship or I will have my commander stun you and carry you back!”

Gree snapped his head toward Krell, shocked and horrified at the prospect that he might be forced to stun the padawan who was caring for his brother. Appalled because she was showing him the only act of kindness he’d know outside of the bond with his squad.

Krell’s words stoked a fire of rage within Avery. She knew it was wrong. Jedi should not feel rage. But she was consumed by it instantaneously. She released the trooper’s hand and gingerly lay his head on the ground before she rose to her feet. Her eyes burned and her jaw clenched as she drew her lightsaber, the teal blade reflecting through the pouring rain.

“You will have to carry my cold dead corpse to that transport ship, Master Krell. Don’t be a coward and send your Commander to do your dirty work. I’m just a padawan. I should be an easy victory for you.” She stepped to the side, swinging her saber in idle circles, a challenge to the Master she was staring down. She hoped she looked more brave than she felt.

“The Council and your Master will hear about this!” Krell’s threat rumbled just above the thunder of the storm.

“Good.” Her voice didn’t shake and for that she was grateful.

“Watch her! Don’t let her go anywhere,” Krell growled at Gree as he stormed off. Avery deactivated her saber and immediately dropped back to the ground, returning his head to her lap.

“M-miss m-m-medic, I d-don’t think I h-have ever seen anything q-q-quiet so b-brave or stupid in m-my life,” the trooper huffed a strangled laugh as he began to shake.

“You’re cold, here.” Avery removed her cloak and covered him. “What is your name, by the way?”

“T-thank you. I’m CT 43-0253.” He was shaking less with the warmth of her cloak but his voice was getting weaker.

“No, not your designation. Your name. What do your brothers call you?”

He smiled sadly, “I hadn’t picked one yet. I wanted to…wait. Until after the battle. Guess I don’t get to now. That was stupid of me.” There was a beat of silence before Avery asked, “What about ‘Aay’han’?” She didn’t hesitate, the Mando’a rolled off her tongue as if she’d been a native speaker. The trooper stared at her puzzled.

Gree spoke up, “I think that’s perfect. Have you learned any Mando’a, trooper?”

“No sir. Didn’t get the opportunity.”

“The name our medic has given you is akin to remembering and celebrating, the balance of mourning and joy.”

“Oh. But the General said…”

“Kriff him. We’ll remember you. Always.” Avery firmly interrupted him, brushing the soaked strands of hair from his brow. “Brace yourself boys, our favorite General is coming back.”

Krell looked all the more intimidating as lightning backlit his imposing frame. Avery did her best not to shirk back but he looked like he’d grown exponentially with his rage.

“See this Masters? This insubordinate brat is defying my orders!” Krell tried to sound composed but his rage seeped through his words.

She realized he was holding his portable holoprojector, the hazy blue figures of Master Windu and Master Yoda watching her. She didn’t have time to worry about that though as Aay’han began gasping painfully.

“Masters with all due respect, I am in the middle of something important. When I am done I will happily answer any questions you may have.”

“Very well padawan, but Master Yoda and I prefer to observe you.” Master Windu’s even tone crackled through the projector. Avery nodded sharply and resumed the comfort care she was providing her trooper.

“Miss,” Aay’han choked some before powering through, “what do you think it’s like? Death, I mean.”

She attempted to shield his face from the pounding rain. She felt the three Masters watching her, two curiously and one furiously. “Well, we, Jedi I mean, we believe there is no death. The body is just a vessel. When you die, you return to the Living Force. Never gone. Just…returned to where you came from.”

He chuckled, “Oh. That’s sounds…nice. I hope you’re right, returning to the Force I mean. I’m not keen on staying on Kamino forever.” He huffed another pained laugh before a groan escaped his lips. Speaking was becoming difficult for him. “Thank you. For the name. And for staying.”

“You’re welcome, Aay’han. It’s been an honor knowing you trooper and an honor guiding you back to the Force.” His eyes had already closed, his breathing was becoming labored and irregular. In a silence only broken by the pounding rain and rumbling thunder, Aay’han returned to the Force. She covered his face with her cloak before standing to turn to face the Jedi Masters in the hologram, “My job is done, Masters. I will answer any questions you have for me.”

“Enough, we have seen. To the temple, please return,” Master Yoda ordered.

“With pleasure, Master,” Krell growled and he shut off the projector. “Commander, put her in binders. When we are back on the cruiser I want her detained. I don’t want her getting any other ideas.”

“Sir! She…”

“It’s alright Commander,” Avery extended her wrists to him. “Do as your General says. I’ll be fine.”

“Sir…yes, sir.”

“That’s the first wise choice you’ve made this evening. I’ll see that you’re kicked out of the Order for this.” Krell sounded even more proud of the idea of having Avery removed than of his victory in battle.

Avery didn’t answer him. She stared straight ahead, jaw set with a facade of ambivalence barely held together by her few remaining strands of self control.

**********

The voyage back to the Jedi Temple was arduous, harrowing, and anguishingly long. Krell ensured she’d be transported like a common criminal. In her solitude she replayed the events that landed her in this situation over and over. What could she have done differently? If she’d been more skilled with Force healing could she have saved Aay’han? If she’d trained harder could she have done more? Did she even make the right choice? Should she have just left him and gone back to the transport? Is his death on her hands? The self doubt seeped through her like her favorite tea seeped through the tea bag.

Upon Master Krell’s orders, Avery was marched into the Temple in binders. He’d not even let her change her clothes. She was still heavily caked in mud and blood. Her face was dirty with streaks where her tears traversed her cheeks. She suspected he aimed to humiliate her. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Krell charged in before the Council, all bravado and indignation while Commander Gree gently guided her in behind him. The softness of his hand on her back stood in sharp contrast to the aggressive aura of Krell.

“Master Krell, don’t you think the binders are a little excessive?” Master Windu queried, a hint of agitation nipping at his question.

“I didn’t want her to try to escape. She needed to come before you and answer for what she did!” The accusation was absurd at best and she was grateful the Masters seated before her seemed to know that.

“Commander Gree, remove the binders please. I do not believe she will go anywhere,” Master Plo gently requested as he gave Avery a soft paternal nod.

“Sir, yes sir!” Gree could barely contain his joy and gave her a comforting squeeze of the hand before removing the binders.

“So Avery, what do you have to say?” Master Plo continued. His fingers were interlocked in a posture far too relaxed for the situation, in Avery’s opinion.

She studied the room. She felt a tinge of shame when she saw her own master, Tana Vytuia, sitting amongst the council members who were determining her fate.

Avery lifted her chin and did her best to appear confident in her decision. “Masters, I do not regret my actions. Nor will I ask your forgiveness. You sent me on that mission as a medic. I am training to be a healer. I could not save that trooper, but he deserved to die with dignity. Without pain and fear. In the company of someone who would guide him back to the Living Force. I would do it for any trooper under my care, without hesitation.”

The High Council sat silent for a moment. For how long Avery didn’t know. It felt like ages before anyone spoke.

“Kind and honorable, you are padawan. Strong in the Force, you are. An exceptional healer, you shall be.” Master Yoda smiled at her.

“Master?” The confusion in her voice was heavy but there was a glimmer of hope there too.

“Master Yoda is right. The Council has reviewed the hologram of your actions extensively. You displayed some of the finest qualities of a Jedi. We are proud of you, padawan. Instead of using your Force Healing to fight death, you embraced the peace to come and helped a trooper do the same. It gives us great pleasure to inform you that you have passed the final trial. You are now a Jedi Knight.” Master Windu rose to his feet and tilted his head in a slight bow. Avery stared, eyes like saucers and jaw agape in complete shock. She was convinced she was going to be thrown out, not promoted. She looked around the room at the Masters before her and all but Krell were smiling warmly at her.

It wasn’t until Gree placed a congratulatory hand on her shoulder that she spoke again, “Masters, I can honestly say this was not how I envisioned this going.”

“Neither did I,” she heard Krell grumble as he slowly slunk backward.

“However,” she continued, “I am truly grateful and honored that the Council has deemed me worthy of knighthood. I promise I will uphold the Jedi Code, and humbly request I continue my training to become a Consular and Healer.”

“We look forward to seeing the great things you will achieve. If you wait here, we will discuss your future as a general in the GAR,” Master Windu answered proudly.

A general? In the GAR? Master Windu’s words made her nauseous. She listened as Krell was offered platitudes for his successful mission and small talk was exchanged as they shuffled off to their next assignment. Soon the High Council Chamber had cleared out, leaving Avery standing with Masters Yoda, Windu, and Tana.

“Troubled, your mind is young Jedi,” Master Yoda observed her with compassion.

“Masters. I,” she paused and gathered her courage. “I must ask that you not assign troops to me.”

Master Windu studied her with an air of curiosity, “Alright, why do you not want to lead our troops?”

This was more terrifying than standing up to Krell. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful for what the Council had done, but she couldn’t be a General.

“Masters, I am a healer. I tend wounds, I provide comfort care when those wounds are fatal. I…I fix the damage done to our troops on the battlefield. I provide peace and refuge if only briefly. I can’t be the one responsible for leading them to that fate. It stands in direct contradiction to what I stand for. I humbly request you have me serve in a medical capacity. I’ll be a field medic. I’ll work in the field hospitals. I’ll rotate the hospital frigates. But I can’t be the reason the clones need healing when I am the one who is supposed to do the healing.”

Master Yoda pondered her words, his brow turned in a thoughtful expression, “A compelling argument you make, young one. Agree with you, I do.”

Master Windu smiled, “Very well. You will serve the Republic within the MedCorps.” He turned to her former master, “Now, Tana, will you take Avery to her new quarters? She should get cleaned up and rest before we give her her assignments tomorrow.” Avery dipped into a deep bow, relieved and bubbling with gratitude.

**********

“Avery, something else is on your mind. What is it?” After being her Master for well over 10 years, Avery should have expected she couldn’t hide much from Tana. The wise Jedi had become as close to a mother as possible without having actually birthed her.

Avery didn’t answer immediately, instead listening to their rhythmic footsteps in the empty hallways, wondering how she should vocalize her trepidation. “I’m…worried, Master. About the clones.”

“Worried?”

“I’ve only worked alongside them for a little bit but I’ve gotten to know many of them in that short time. They’re so loyal to a Republic they’ve never even seen. A Republic that doesn’t even consider them citizens or give them rights. They don’t even get names! They name themselves or their brothers name them!” She stopped for a moment remembering Aay’han. She’d chosen his name. He almost died without a name. The thought twisted her stomach. How many unknown troopers were there?

“I used to think the Republic was unquestionably fighting for justice in the galaxy. Now I find myself more and more concerned about the troopers fighting the war. Are we truly fighting for justice when our own soldiers are denied basic rights?”

Her former Master considered her words before answering, “I don’t have those answers for you, I’m afraid. In war things are rarely black and white. You make compelling arguments and, as always, I’m so proud of the compassion and kindness you show to all beings. Convene with the Force, it will provide you the answers you need as you need them.”

“Yes, master,” she sighed. She knew Master Vytuia was right but she wanted her answers now.

The remainder of their walk passed in silence until they arrived at Avery’s new quarters. Tana turned to Avery and hugged her. “Here we are. I am so proud of you Avery. You will continue to learn so much working with Master Vokara Che in the infirmary.”

“Thank you, Master Vytuia.” The thought of no longer being under her Master’s tutelage brought tears to her eyes.

“I think we’ve reached a point where you can just call me Tana, Avery.”

“That will take some getting used to,” Avery mused with a smile. She dipped into one final bow before she walked inside and heaved a heavy sigh. First order of business would be the shedding of her padawan braid. The second would be to climb in the refresher. Third would be meditation. In the silence of her new private room, she thought she could hear a familiar voice call to her through the Force. And so she answered, “I hear you Aay’han. I promise I will help as many of your brothers as I can.”

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@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf because you drew that lovely art of Tana!

This is it exactly.

I need this scene permanently engrained in my head

I recently revisited this story from @freesia-writes and was delighted. Again. Jesse written as “JESSE!” and then ‘jesse’ as more of him was revealed. Funny and heartfelt.

#jesse loves pookie #ptsd

Pets4Vets: Jesse (1/4)

Chapter 1 of 4 - Word Count: 3.2k - Jesse x Fem Reader Master List

“Thanks for dinner,” she said quietly, shifting her eyes from her plate to his and crossing one arm across herself to rub the outside of the other. 

“Yeah baby,” Jesse purred with a cocky grin. “I mean, I got the dinner but you brought the dessert.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a treat,” he said with a wag of his eyebrows. “Want to take the party back to your place?”

“Oh, um. I’ve got to work early, so I think that’s all I’ve got time for now. But thanks again,” she offered, trying to mask the cringe on her face with a disingenuous smile. 

“Alright, your loss… heheh…”

“Yeah…”

They made their way to the door of the restaurant, Jesse holding it open for her as she shuffled awkwardly past him. She hesitated on the sidewalk, turning back to face him with that same feeble grin. Another thanks for dinner. An offer to walk her home. Declined. A question about another date. After a long, uneasy pause, that was also declined.

Jesse kept up his best face, chest puffed and confidence set firmly in place, until she disappeared around the corner, then he slumped, turning to begin his own walk home. A glance at the chrono reminded him that he wasn’t allowed back in the apartment he shared with Kix for another hour and a half… The cramped flat they rented together didn’t allow for much privacy, and his roommate had been excited to take advantage of the alone time with his partner from Right to Love, a matchmaking service for clones wanting to live as freely as they were able since the war had ended and they were released from service. 

The endless flashing lights of the Coruscant streets were oppressively bright as he plodded aimlessly, unsure of where to go. A deep sense of resentment was growing within, and he didn’t realize he was muttering under his breath until a few strange looks from passersby clued him in. Many of his brothers had found immediate success with Right to Love, now experiencing the joys of a relationship in ways they’d never thought possible when they’d been nothing more than property their entire lives. And yet here he was, having tried to connect with five different people now, each one entirely put off by the end of the first date. His assigned case manager at Right to Love had assured him that matches weren’t always perfect the first time around, and sometimes the process took a little longer to ensure the ideal fit. 

Doubt was growing in the pit of his stomach as he walked. What was it about him that was getting in the way? He was throwing himself wholeheartedly into this pursuit, and yet each attempt seemed to be less encouraging than the last. The resentment began to coil in his chest, heating up into anger, and he leaned into it. Anger was familiar. Anger, he could deal with. It made him feel powerful and in control, pushing aside any tendrils of fear or sadness that lay at its core. A sign up his head caught his eye, and he turned abruptly to barge through the door. 

Music thumped inside, the small crowd on the dance floor moving as one to the beat, and he jostled his way around the edge to find a seat at the bar. He waited for a while, watching the bartender help customer after customer, including those that had arrived after him. When the man began polishing some glasses, Jesse finally called out, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Can I get some service here?”

The bartender slowly finished wiping his glass, sidling down to the end and resting his palms on the counter with no attempt to hide the disdain on his face. 

“Did your giant face tattoo block you from seeing the sign on the door?” he drawled. “No clones. Go back to your own district.”

“You’re living in the past,” Jesse growled, the snake in his chest twisting and hissing. “Credits are credits. What does it matter who they come from?” 

“Just get out,” exhorted a Zabrak on the stool beside him who’d had his back firmly turned to him from the start. “Before we make you.”

He’d had enough.

“Go ahead and try,” he snarled, smacking a fist on the counter and rising to his feet. The Zabrak was in his face immediately, flanked by a nat-born and a Weequay who looked far too excited to throw hands. 

“Know your place,” the nat-born taunted, leaping forward to throw a swing, which Jesse dodged and countered with one of his own, sinking a fist into the man’s stomach and earning a satisfying grunt of pain. The brawl exploded, quickly changing the three-on-one situation into an entire mob set on teaching the clone a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. The ARC trooper held his own, ducking and swinging, using leverage to toss one body into another, but the blows were coming from every direction. A foot to the back of his knee knocked him off balance, right into someone else’s fist.

The next thing he knew, he was unceremoniously thrown onto the sidewalk among a litany of curses and insults, and he scrambled to his feet, body throbbing with numerous bruises from the punches and kicks that had landed as he’d tried to hold them all off. His nose was bleeding, and he wiped it on his sleeve before pinching it hard, stalking toward his building in a tornado of rage. 

He sat outside on the stoop for the remaining hour, ruminating on the sheer injustice of it all. But eventually, the hot indignation quieted, and in the stillness, he fought to stuff down the disappointment that whispered judgment and failure in its place. 

* * * 

“Come on, give it a try.” Kix straightened his scrubs as Jesse slouched against his bedroom doorway. “It’ll be a different dynamic. Might be helpful.”

“I don’t need help,” Jesse scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. 

“I know,” Kix affirmed quickly, “But the food carts in the square are delicious. So bring your next date and just come along for that.” He smoothed a hand over his neatly-cut hair and tilted his head at his mirror, checking that the first few letters of his head tattoo were hidden as much as possible by his dark locks. The medical clinic he worked at had some fairly strict rules around personal appearance, and considering how difficult it was to find clone-friendly jobs, no matter how qualified they were, he wasn’t about to risk losing his placement over something as trivial as that. 

“Fine,” Jesse huffed. “I’m doing this for the ronto wraps, you know.”

Kix grinned, clapping him on the back and squeezing his shoulder as he headed for the front door. “You’ve been doing too much upper-body, vod. Have a leg day.”

“Hah. Go clean some crusty old geezers, di’kut.”

“Oh please. I’m saving lives out there,” Kix threw over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Jesse sighed. That did seem like a much better purpose than his own job as a personal trainer at a local gym, where most of his clients were flaky hopefuls who wanted to get into shape without putting in the time and work that it required. It paid well enough, though, and gave him an outlet for a sense of purpose as well as a place to exercise. If he were honest, he’d hoped he’d meet someone there, figuring they’d be more aligned with his interests and lifestyle, but after months upon months of dismal prospects, he’d gone ahead and applied at Right to Love. He sighed, turning to rummage in the cooling chamber until it was time for work.

* * * 

Days of work and leisure blended together, and Jesse found himself spending more time at the gym, adding cardio sessions on top of his bodybuilding regimen as a way to blow off steam. He finally got another match from Right to Love and agreed to go on the double date with Kix and his partner, laboring a disproportionate amount of time over what to wear. He didn’t want to admit it, but with each date he felt increasingly desperate. Desperate to prove that there wasn’t something wrong with him. Desperate to feel like he had access to the whole variety of options for a “normal” life. Desperate to enjoy the care, intimacy, and connection that some of his brothers had found. 

He straightened the long-sleeved henley shirt and rolled up the sleeves a little. Ladies loved the forearms, right? Slipping a wallet into his back pocket, he checked his reflection one last time and ventured into the living room where Kix was waiting for him. 

“Here goes nothing,” he grumbled. 

“That’s the spirit,” Kix nodded sagely, a fond smirk on his face.

The square had a weekly event where all the food carts in the vicinity would gather to offer their delectable delicacies, and there really was something for everyone, making it a very popular attraction. Jesse swaggered beside his date, Kix and his partner bringing up the rear, and shared stories of valor and bravery as she nodded and made small sounds of agreement here and there. The four of them had shared some snacks from a variety of vendors and were now walking it off along the city streets. 

Coming to a somewhat scenic overlook of a steep dropoff with many Coruscant levels stretching down below, the four of them sat on a couple of benches. Kix stretched his arm across his partner’s shoulders, and they nestled into his side with an affectionate gaze. Jesse shifted awkwardly beside his date, a beautiful redhead that made his mouth go dry when he tried to talk. Yet he’d pushed past it with bravado and confidence, he felt simultaneously certain and completely unsure of her interest. Kix was murmuring in his date’s ear, bringing a demure smile to their face, and Jesse turned to look at the redhead beside him. 

“So… You mentioned some adventures in the jungle… Did I tell you about our campaign on Felucia?” he asked, launching into the story before she was able to respond. He wove an exhilarating tale of their encounter with both Separatist forces and the Commerce Guild, finishing with a flourish and grinning proudly. 

“Sounds like the war was wild,” she offered.

“You’re karking right it was,” he laughed, attempting to slip his arm around her shoulder as well, but she stood up quickly. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I… I’m gonna go.” 

Jesse watched her leave, speechless, then was flooded with embarrassment as he felt the eyes of Kix and his partner on his back. He slowly turned to face them, and the empathetic looks on their faces added insult to the injury. 

“See you at home,” he muttered to his brother, nodding to Kix’s partner and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he trudged back to their apartment. Kix watched him for a long time, nodding at the murmured condolences from his partner, who was incredibly kind and gentle, both admiring and strong in their own right, and he was regularly blown away at the fact that he’d been able to find them. Their compassion only served to deepen his own hope that his brother could find whatever it was he was looking for. 

* * * 

The next morning, a much-needed day off of work for both of them, Jesse was sprawled on the couch with a lazy hand resting on the steaming mug of caf on the nearby side table. Kix was scrambling some eggs in the kitchen, casting the occasional glance over the counter at his brother’s dejected slump. He was torn; Jesse was notoriously stubborn, but Kix also knew him better than most anyone else, and if he kept continuing in the same pattern, he would likely keep getting the same result. He flipped the eggs one more time and turned off the burner, scattering some shredded cheese over the top of them and putting a lid over the pan to melt it all together. 

“You… uh… seemed different last night,” he ventured, picking up his own caf, now mostly cold, and sitting in the armchair across from the downcast clone. 

“Mmm,” was the only response. 

“Does it always go that way?”

“Mmm.”

“What’s… What’s with the swagger stuff?” Kix asked, abandoning the subtlety. Jesse cast a hard look at him, but he caught the quickly-concealed flicker of hurt beneath the tattooed face.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t really seem like you. Did you answer the questionnaire honestly?”

“Yes!” Jesse said defensively, furrowing his brow.

“Well… then that might be why the dates aren’t going so well, if they’re expecting you to act… normal. You’re smart and pretty down-to-earth most of the time. Last night it felt more like you were trying to prove yourself somehow.”

His words stung, and Jesse balked at the feeling of being perceived so accurately. But a sense of resignation had settled in again, and he shrugged, attempting a nonchalant facade. 

“I’m just gonna get a pet. That’ll have to lo–... to put up with me, right?”

“Sure,” Kix sighed. “I’ve heard good things about P4V.”

“Look, di’kut, I know I can’t even get a second date, let alone some bedroom action, but I don’t think I have the credits for a sex worker… At least not a good one.”

“Classy as always,” Kix rolled his eyes. “It’s not a brothel, it’s called Pets 4 Vets. They have a variety of service animals to help with the difficult aspects of adjusting to civilian life.”

“I want a good-sized Massiff, not some fluffy little Loth-rat to lick me when I have ‘big feelings’,” Jesse snorted. 

“Kriff, you are thick sometimes.”

“Just these thighs.”

“Right. Just try it.”

“We’ll see.”

* * * 

You stroked a hand down the bogling's back, running fingers along the soft fur of its fluffy tail. It leaned into your touch with a contented noise, and you closed the cage behind it, watching it begin delicately eating its food before moving to the next kennel. You’d been working at Pets 4 Vets for a while now, and you felt thoroughly at home amid a great group of coworkers and an even better assortment of animals from every corner of the galaxy. They were all either in the process or finished with their training to be emotional support animals for the veterans who had served the Republic so well. You’d been a little unsure around the clones at first, not having spent any time with them before this, but they’d grown on you quite a bit and you’d been amazed at the complexity and individuality of each one. You’d also developed a knack for pairing them with animals, although it still took a few tries at times. 

“Good morning, tookas,” you said warmly as you slid the food bowl into the next crate, watching the two loth-cats eye it lazily from where they were curled around each other in the corner. They were a bonded pair, and last summer they had surprised the entire staff with a full litter of the most adorable babies you’d ever seen, who had since grown and been placed into loving homes. None of you had been too eager to see the parents leave, however, and it just so happened that none of the troopers so far had been the ideal match for them. The two of them roamed the clinic during the day, curling up near computer terminals or gracing guests in the lobby with their tails high in the air. At night, all the animals were tucked into their cozy kennels until morning, when they’d be fed and let out into their various programs for the day. Some had hours of training, others enjoyed free time inside or out, and some simply spent as much time as possible shadowing the clinic staff. 

“I wish I got breakfast in bed,” you murmured as you closed their door, watching the loth-cats yawn and nuzzle one another. You felt a deep sense of longing in your chest, and moved to the next cage to try to keep your mind from continuing on its current trajectory. But it was a lost cause. “Wish I had someone to wake up next to as well,” you continued. The dating scene hadn’t been kind to you, and if you were honest, you’d pretty much given up. Your friends urged you to keep the dream alive, to go on double dates with them and to meet the various eligible bachelors they knew, but nothing felt like a good fit. You assumed the problem was with you. And that was alright. You were happy enough on your own…you said. The clinic staff was a tightly-knit group, for the most part, and you authentically loved the animals. You felt fulfilled by the unconditional love you shared with each one, and you were so proud at the growth you got to witness as they went through training. 

The horde was fed, each one was released to its daily duty, and you began to clean all of the kennels, wondering if you should take your friend up on her offer to check out 79s. It felt completely out of your comfort zone, however. Not because of the clones, but you just generally weren’t a fan of loud, raucous environments, and you weren’t much of a drinker… So it didn’t seem like a very attractive prospect. As much as you were mocked for it, you weren’t really keen on one night stands, nor were you good at “keeping it casual”. You wanted a relationship with depth and longevity. Sometimes you wondered if the taunts about you were correct, that you had in fact watched too many cheesy holofilms and now had an unrealistic view of romance. 

Whatever.

A few hours of cleaning were followed by an hour or so at your computer, reviewing and categorizing the new applications. You didn’t realize you’d been completely hunched the entire time, your back rounded as you tapped away at the keys, and would have remained blissfully unaware if the receptionist hadn’t commented on it as soon as she popped in. 

“Geez, you look like a shrimp,” she laughed, dropping a data card on your desk. 

“You’re a bit of a cod yourself,” you teased, and she giggled, swatting your arm. “What’s this?”

“A new app. I was gonna bring him back here in person but he said he had lots of ‘big important stuff’ to do.” She rolled her eyes. “Quite the cocky one. He didn’t want to go through the interview process because he ‘knew what he wanted and it was a big dog’.” A chuckle followed the words as they both nodded. They were familiar with the type.

“Did you tell him he has to do an interview if he wants anything at all?”

“Yup. Said you’d contact him.”

“Lucky me.”

“Thought you might like a challenge. It’s been quiet for you lately,” she grinned.

“Considerate as always,” you smiled right back. 

“Have some fun with him. He could use someone taking him down a peg or two. Although I thought I could see the remnant of a black eye, so maybe someone already tried. He’s a big boy, too.” A suggestive wink.

“Oh boy. Can’t wait.”

Next Chapter

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Sweet story about a boy and his dog, Hound and Grizzer, along with Hound’s GF. 😻

Watch and Learn, City Boy, Part 2: Autumn

A/N: This is a follow-up to Part 1, which I wrote last year. The muse struck on the autumnal equinox, and who am I to reject her overture? Yes, I switched tenses, and no, I’m not sorry. Enjoy! 

Pairing: Hound x Reader (Fem)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI) 

Wordcount: 2.8K

Warnings and tags: fluff; domesticity; language; little bit of SMUT; one (1) slap on the ass; tickling; pinning; allusions to bondage; Reader is a bit of a brat; Hound is a playful switch (I don’t make the rules); this isn't as kinky as it sounds; I made up pretty much everything about Alderaanian culture, holiday observances, and spirituality for this fic, so don’t take anything here as having a basis in canon.

Summary: Autumn has come to Alderaan, and you’re stuck on kriffin’ Coruscant. But Hound won’t let that stop you from celebrating.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Hempz Apple Cinnamon Shortbread body lotion (autumn leaves; warm spices)

Part 1 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Grizzer launched herself off of your mattress with a ferocious snarl before you even heard the door chime. Hound startled awake with a muffled grunt, and you sat up, rubbing your eyes groggily and fumbling for your datapad to check the security holo.

“‘S goin’ on?” he mumbled.

“Groceries,” you rasped as you crawled out of bed and slipped into a robe. “I’ll take care of it. Go back to sleep.”

Grizzer was prancing triumphantly at the front door, and she greeted you with a loud, delighted snort to let you know that she had successfully repelled the invading force and secured the perimeter.

“Good girl,” you yawned. “So brave. Gonna tell Fox to give you a medal and a promotion.”

She plopped down resolutely in front of the door and refused to budge until you had administered what she deemed to be an appropriate number of scritches between the spines on her back. At length, she shuffled out of the way so you could open the door and dart out into the hallway just long enough to retrieve your grocery delivery, silently beseeching the Force not to let your well-meaning but nosy neighbors catch you in your bathrobe. Gods knew you and Hound already gave them plenty of fodder for gossip.

Once the groceries were safely inside, Grizzer had to complete an exhaustive sniff-spection of every single bag before she would allow you to put the food away, and then she gave you a meaningful look and lumbered over to the back door. You tapped the panel and shivered at the blast of cold air that rushed in as the door hissed open. 

Grizzer sauntered out to do her business on the comically tiny patch of fake grass you’d installed on your balcony once you realized she and Hound would be staying over as many nights as they could possibly sneak away from the barracks. By the time you’d finished stashing the perishables in the conservator, she was back inside and waiting for her breakfast.

You activated the cleaning droid to deal with her mess, dumped a scoop of massiff chow in her bowl, and finally returned to the bedroom. Hound’s eyes remained stubbornly closed, but he wordlessly pulled the blankets back as you climbed into bed and snuggled your ass into the nook of his body, extending his other arm for you to use as a pillow.

Stars, he’s so warm. This is the best part of my day.

You barely had time to settle in before Grizzer hopped up onto the bed, circled a few times, then flopped against you hard enough to knock the wind out of you.

“Ugh, careful with the spikes, Grizz. Don’t you have breakfast to eat?” you muttered.

Despite your grumbles, you couldn’t resist the pleading look she shot you, and you reached down to pat her lazily as she settled her chin onto your leg with a happy sigh. Kriffin’ massiff always wants to be the littlest spoon.  

You shifted, looking for a comfortable position while being smooshed between your two favorite beings, then tucked your feet closer to Hound, trying to get warm. He flinched as he felt your icy feet against his shins, but instead of pulling away, he rested his hand on your hip and drew you more firmly against his body, then slid up your torso to cup your breast. He nuzzled his face into your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your skin.

“Mornin’,” he rumbled. ”Happy equinox. I assume you've planned somethin’ festive for today?”

“Mm-hmm,” you mumbled, privately reflecting that he was using far too many words for this early on a Benduday morning. “‘S why I ordered groceries.”

He hummed his approval and began to kiss a path down your spine. “Does it involve tying me to a kitchen chair and licking a jar of honey off my skin?”

You laughed quietly and kissed the scar on his forearm that rested beneath your head. “Is that a specific fantasy you have, or are you just looking for an excuse to get me to tie you up and have my wicked way with you?”

“Two things can be true, angel.” He squeezed your breast gently, then trailed his fingertips down the centerline of your body, unerringly finding his way between your thighs. “Your feet are like kriffin’ icicles. You go on an expedition to Ilum for those groceries or somethin’?”

“Grizz was extra needy this morning,” you explained. “Mm, that feels nice. Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. His fingers slipped over your clit and into your pussy, and he shifted slightly to grind his cock against your ass. “Feel how hard you made me? Prancin’ around in that little thing you call a bathrobe. Probably gave the neighbors a coronary.”

“Nobody saw me,” you laughed, then gasped as he slid deeper. “At least I—fuck—I didn’t see anyone.”

“Grizz, off,” he ordered, to the massiff’s vocal disgust. Nevertheless, she complied, jumping off the bed with a huff of protest and wandering out of the bedroom in search of the breakfast she’d previously snubbed. “Guess we’ll find out if anyone saw you when they send a thank-you holocard. Damn, little one, you’re kriffin’ soaked. What were you dreamin’ about, dirty girl?”

It wasn’t a dream, it’s just you, you thought, but rather than inflate his already impressive ego, you wiggled your butt against his hips and replied in your most provocative tone. 

“Thorn.”

He laughed, then withdrew from between your thighs and gave you a firm little slap on the ass. You let out a shrill squeak and squirmed out of his arms just far enough to launch yourself off the mattress and tackle him, pinning him briefly and digging your fingers into his ribs to tickle him ruthlessly. 

Alas, your vengeance was short lived. After the briefest moment of being incapacitated by laughter, he managed to roll over on top of you, capturing your wrists and holding them against the pillow on either side of your head.

“Oh, you asked for it, darlin’,” he said with a wicked grin. 

The morning light caught in his eyes and illuminated them to honey gold. They danced with mischief, and you felt an odd flutter in your chest that you didn’t have enough time to examine before he pounced, and the only thing on your mind was holding on while your ARF trooper took you for the ride of your life.

When the pair of you finally stumbled out of bed, you mentally scratched off a few of the activities you’d planned, since you were running two hours behind schedule—a sacrifice you were more than willing to make, all things considered. There was still plenty of time to visit the Alderaanian shrine of the ancestors in the Federal District and make it home in time to cook dinner—a meal that you’d been planning with meticulous care for weeks, going to great lengths to source Alderaanian ingredients that were often difficult to find in the Core Worlds.

“You sure they’ll let me in?” Hound asked as he surveyed the entrance to the temple with obvious doubt in his eyes.

“They will,” you replied firmly. “They don’t turn anyone away. If you ever find yourself in trouble and need a place to lie low, they’ll give you sanctuary.”

“Even though I did absolutely depraved things to you an hour ago?” he murmured in your ear, sending tingles of awareness down your neck.

“... Maybe don’t mention that part.”

“You know, this whole sanctuary thing sounds a little illegal,” he joked.

“Who are you, the police?”

He snorted, then allowed you to lead him inside. The temple was crowded, and not a single person recognized Hound as a clone trooper, or if they did, nobody mentioned it. Hound was fascinated by the vibrant—not to say chaotic—energy inside. 

“The only temple I’ve ever been inside is the Jedi temple,” he said. “This one is really different.”

“I imagine so,” you laughed. “I’ve never been inside the Jedi Temple, but I’ve heard it’s really tranquil. This is… not that.”

He grinned in acknowledgment. “Do you come here every equinox?”

You shook your head. “I’m not really that observant most of the time. When I’m at home, we just have a family celebration. But here on Coruscant, it’s kind of nice to come to a place where I can meet other Alderaanians. For me, it’s really more about staying in touch with my culture, but a lot of people are very devout.”

When the pair of you finally made your way through the temple and to the shrine, he followed you inside and observed respectfully but with keen interest as you lit a stick of incense and left a small offering for the shrine guardian spirit. You were in and out in under a minute, and as the pair of you rejoined the thronging crowd headed toward the exit, Hound leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“That was quick.”

“No point in monopolizing it,” you replied under your breath. “Bad form when the temple is this busy.”

The temple wasn’t the only thing that was busy. Traffic was fully gridlocked, and the trip home took ages. By the time you arrived, you were both ravenous, which was deeply unfortunate, given that you’d planned a fairly elaborate dinner. Still, you were determined to make it work and salvage what was left of the equinox. 

Grizzer was beside herself when you walked through the door. She barreled into Hound with a delighted squeal, and he knelt down for their ritual greeting. She sat patiently until he was within reach and then, with a gentleness that was wholly improbable for a creature of her size, she touched her snout against his nose.

“I’m here, too, Grizz,” you teased, and if a massiff were capable of rolling its eyes, she would have. Nevertheless, she eagerly snuggled up to you, demanding her tribute of affection.

“Do I have time to take her for a quick  run before dinner?” Hound asked.

“I think so. It’ll be a refreshing change to cook without my reptile sous chef.”

“Don’t listen to her, Grizz,” Hound said, covering the massiff’s ear holes. “She’d be lost in the kitchen without you.”

“Oh, definitely,” you agreed solemnly. “What ever shall I do without constant supervision and the in-house quality assurance expert?”

Hound gave you a quick kiss and headed out, and you set to work, swallowing down a faint feeling of disappointment that so many of your plans had fallen through. Dinner would make up for it, though. Dinner would be perfect.. Within minutes, the entire flat began to fill with delicious smells. Everything was proceeding swimmingly. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

“Gods damn it!”

Your frustrated curse was the first thing Hound heard when he opened the door. Grizzer charged inside and skidded to a halt, prancing around the kitchen.

“Not now, sweetie,” you said, your tone softening a bit as you saw the massiff.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Hound asked.

“That karking shopper droid brought me decorative mini pumpkins instead of edible ones,” you groaned. “And to make matters worse, the pumpkin stems mutilated my Force-damned tomato.”

“Damn, looks like it got squashed,” he murmured.

“That is a terrible pun, and this is no laughing matter!”

“You’re right,” he said apologetically. “It’s an obvious case of assault with a deadly veggie.”

“Still not funny. Look at this carnage!”

You held up the mangled tomato, and he inspected it closely before gravely replying. “That’s a pretty gore-dy victim. Better shield Grizzer’s innocent eyes before she’s permanently scarred.”

You snorted, obstinately refusing to laugh. “I knew I should have just gone to the market myself.”

“Why don’t we go now?” he asked, giving up on his quest to distract you with the worst puns in the Core Worlds. “We can pick up some pumpkins that are actually edible, maybe have a little tour of the market district, get some fresh air?”

You glanced at the clock and sighed. “If we do that, we’ll be eating at midnight. I’ll figure something out.”

Grizzer whined at the sharpness in your tone, then curled up in the corner of your living room so she could keep an eye on you, sensing your frustration. You glared at the offending gourds for a moment, and would have bet every last credit of his nonexistent salary that you were contemplating hurling them into the abyss of the Coruscant underworld. Seeing how much the kriff-up had upset you, Hound ventured into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“What’s really bothering you, love?” he asked. “You’re always good at coming up with contingency plans. Is this really such a big problem that it’ll ruin your equinox?”

You sighed and leaned back against him, closing your eyes. “No. Not really. It’s just… My mom always makes this for the autumn equinox. I really wanted it to be perfect, you know?”

“You miss her.”

You nodded. “I do. I miss home, too. It’s weird to celebrate an Alderaanian equinox holiday on a planet that doesn’t even have seasons. And I really wanted this to be perfect so you could have the experience even though you weren’t able to get leave to travel back home with me, and we had to cancel almost all of our plans, and now dinner is ruined, too, and I’m just so fucking tired and hungry.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your head, then turned you around slowly so he could look into your eyes. His chest squeezed when he saw the beginnings of tears in your eyes, and he brushed his thumb across your cheek to wipe them away. “It is perfect, because I’m spendin’ it with you. No place I’d rather be in the galaxy.”

“Not even a musty old tent surrounded by wolf-cats?” you muttered rebelliously.

“As tempting as that sounds—and if I recall correctly, you were extremely tempting—no. But I’d eat rations and sleep in a musty old tent every night for the rest of my life if it meant I got to wake up next to you.” He didn’t say the words he desperately wanted to. It was too soon, and he didn’t want to scare you off. Instead, he pressed his lips to your forehead and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. “Kriff the pumpkins. We’ll get takeout and go for a speeder bike ride in the entertainment district.”

You gasped. “Blasphemy! How dare you insinuate that I can’t salvage this disaster? Stand aside and watch the master at work.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. 

“Hmph,” you replied haughtily, unable to quite repress the smile at the corner of your lips.

You started toward the stove, but as you took your first step, Hound caught you by your apron ties and tugged you back into his arms for a devastating kiss. He was extremely thorough, and by the time he released you, you were dizzy and breathless, and he made damn sure you couldn’t remember that mini pumpkins even existed.

“That. Was. Incredible,” Hound said as he cleaned the last few morsels from his plate. 

“Not quite as aesthetically pleasing as Mom’s,” you hedged. 

“It was rustic,” he insisted. “Homestyle. Deconstructed.”

“You really need to stop watching cooking shows on the holonet.”

“How else will I learn all the terms to describe your food to make my brothers insane with jealousy? You think clone troopers have a reason to say ‘craveable’ on a daily basis?”

“Oh, yeah? You tell Thorn all about me?” you teased.

“Easy now, darlin’,” he replied with a lazy grin. “You’re gonna give me a complex.”

“Don’t worry, I could never leave Grizzer.”

He laughed. “Lucky thing for me.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched, then stood up and began to clear away the dishes. You groped his ass shamelessly from your seat, then wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face against his abdomen.

“Thanks for celebrating with me,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his shirt. “I know I kind of lost the plot there.”

He set down the plates and wrapped his arms around you. “Not the first time I’ve seen you hangry; won’t be the last.”

You laughed into his belly, then tugged his shirt up so you could kiss his warm, smooth skin. “You know, there’s one equinox tradition that we haven’t observed yet.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“It involves a kitchen chair, a pair of your binders, and a jar of honey.”

“Dank farrik, I’m in love with you.” The words slipped out, and by the time Hound realized what he’d said, it was too late to call them back.

You drew back and stared up at him with an expression of shock. “What?”

“Uh…”

Kriff.

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I HIGHLY recommend the @staycalmandhugaclone series Doc’s Misadventures. Such rich and lush writing, fantastic adventures with OC Medic and Bad Batch, Wolf Pack. I can’t thank our author enough for sharing this with us. There is more content written by @staycalmandhugaclone that I can’t wait to devour. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

These prompts have snowballed into an ongoing series following the beloved Fem!medic!oc trope (written via 1st person reader with no real descriptors). They're in chronological order, and I've tried to make sure to mention if any earlier works in particular are referenced in each one.

If there is a trigger warning that you are concerned about but want to enjoy the story, please please please reach out! In many instances I can alter snip-its or tone things down, or at least highlight the sections in question so you can avoid them (I could do a vague summary for continuity).

Also, these stories are getting added to Ao3 via Monday updates. I'm not dumping them all at once, but you're welcome to pop on over if you prefer that format - just don't forget to drop a kudos/comment!

Touch Starved - Echo - The new medic catches Echo hiding a strained shoulder and gives him a much needed massage.

Warnings: Pretty mild – some cussing, a bit of angst, otherwise just a lot of comfort via a much needed massage

Round 2 with Echo! - just a soft second massage because I wanted to write it - Warnings: Body dysphmorphia from prosthetic limbs, angst, some anxiety/tension from a thigh massage

TS Ch 2 - Hunter - Doc convinces Hunter to let her help him through a tension headache.

Warnings: Tension headache, no real warnings - just another much needed massage

TS Ch 3 - Wrecker - An innocent request leads Doc to a horrifying discovery that she's quick to remedy.

Warnings: Reference to child neglect/ starvation, star wars cursing

TS Ch 4 – Tech - Left alone on the Marauder while the others retrieve a replacement part, Doc and Tech discuss the local culture while Tech works on mechanical upgrades. The unfortunate side effects of his poor posture prompt Doc to step in with a helping hand.

Warnings: Discussion of cultural/religious differences, joking reference to reverse harem, touch aversion, medical language

TS Ch5 – Crosshair - Fed up with Crosshair's dismissal of her help after a nearly disastrous escape, Doc finally snaps.

Warnings: Maybe light arachnophobia? Cursing, yelling, brief mention of injection

Flinching - OC&TBB - Doc has a dangerous near-encounter while away from the boys. They aren't pleased when they find out.

Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, some cursing, borderline panic attack.

F Ch 2 - OC&Echo - Echo patches Doc up after her attack.

Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, some cursing, wound care, energy crash from excessive bacta use, non-intimate undressing, some self-deprecating thoughts

F Ch 3 - OC&TBB - Doc tries to lighten the mood en route to speaking with her superior officers.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but still some reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming

F Ch 4 - OC&TBB - After the grueling retelling, Doc has a brief talk with Cody regarding her place in the GAR before finally returning to learn that her squad has a surprise for her.

Warnings: Summarized attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming. The first half is heavy, not gonna lie, but there's nothing explicit.

Muzzled - Crosshair - Crosshair is captured by Separatist forces. Though brief, his time imprisoned left him in need of help.

Warnings: Some light medical jargon and an injection, a bit of cussing, kinda muzzle/gag duo complete with saliva

M Ch 2 - Crosshair - Hiding an injury rarely ever ends well. Luckily, Doc notices something is still wrong.

Warnings: This one's gone some proper medical procedures - gore/blood/injections. Adult language. Good bit of guilt and angst.

TS Ch1.5.5 (because Cross needs more attention) - Crosshair - Nothing's easy with Crosshair, but after a joke goes too far, he and Doc manage to find a deeper trust in each other.

Warnings: More cursing, panic attack

Knife to Throat - OC&TBB - Doc is blindsided by a grief-maddened civilian.

Warnings: Blood and cursing. Kinda flirting with death a bit, and some light fluff that goes with it. Knife wound and subsequent medical procedures.

Soft Words - Hunter - A Separatist outpost sets a cruel trap for Hunter. The Doc tries to keep him sane until rescue comes.

Warnings: Went very heavy in the whump with this one – sound torture, imprisonment, mild language

Secrets Revealed – OC&TBB - An unexpected EMP forces Doc to reveal aspects of their past that could well turn the batch against them. (Censored version for those uncomfortable with heavy gore)

Warnings: Explicit details of severe injury – blood/gore, language, panic attacks, angst, PTSD flashbacks, self-depreciation, offhand reference to minor character death. This one hits a lot of potentially triggering topics pretty intensely and is fueled from a very dark place I was in with my own injury. Be kind to yourself. Healing is a nonlinear process.

Made to Watch - OC&TBB - Doc becomes the subject of torture in an attempt to force intel from Hunter.

Warnings: Get yuh whump here! Fresh, violent whump! Explicit details of torture and physical injuries, blood and minor gore, broken bones, near death, language.

Panic - Echo - A quiet discussion between Doc and Hunter is delayed when Echo has a nightmare. Doc tries to ease him through it, resulting in a fun bit of shared taunts with Crosshair the following morning.

Warnings: Nightmare-induced panic attack. Non-intimate bed sharing. Fictional curses (does that need a warning?), sexual innuendo

No Anesthesia (Extra per request) – OC&TBB – Wrecker’s overzealous efforts to destroy a building lead to Doc getting pinned in a dire situation.

Warnings: Very heavy whump in this one, with a couple moments of descriptive gore and medical procedures, impalement, difficulty breathing, near death, cursing. TW: claustrophobia

Found Footage - OC&TBB – A pleasant moment at 79s is shattered when someone tries to blackmail doc with footage of the crash on Agamar.

Warnings: Huge PTSD warning here. Flashbacks, disassociating, past injury description, blackmail, grief, angst, some alcohol use (social, not abuse), cursing

Difficulty Breathing – Medic OC&Wrecker- During a mission in a cave, Doc realizes she didn't come out of the rubble of that building with only physical scars, but is determined to push through.

Warnings: Big Claustrophobia warning. and Bats. Ptsd, panic attack. That's about it for this one!

DB Ch 2 - OC&Wrecker - Wrecker and Doc face additional challenges in their attempt to reach the surface.

Warnings: Heights, bats, mild gore, drowning, near death, hypothermia

DB Ch 3 - OC&TBB- When Hunter reveals what really prompted the cave beasts to attack, Doc is faced with an impossible decision.

Warnings: hypothermia recovery, thought of mortality (no character deaths), extreme guilt/angst/self doubt. Talked of wartime casualties. Dis one do be pretty tense, sooo prepare yourselves I guess

Fever – Tech - Tension are high after Doc's discussion with Commander Cody, but when Tech is exposed to a certain fungus, she doesn't hesitate to help.

Warnings: Angst, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores.

Fever - Tech Pt 2 - The effects of the spores quickly wear off, rending Tech into a severe withdrawal.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, sense of impeding doom, high fever, vomiting, delirium-induced violence, strangulation, cursing, needles/IV

Fever - Tech Pt 3 - Crosshair and Echo take a moment to remind Doc that she needs to take care of herself, too, as Tech continues fighting through the effects of withdrawal.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, seizures, light angst

Fever - Tech Pt 4 - Hunter and Wrecker each spend time helping Doc tend their brother.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, paranoia induced violence, blood, broken nose, vomiting, dry heaves, mild sexual tension

Fever - Tech Pt 5 - Things get worse before they get better.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, angst, fear of death/decommissioning

Fever - Tech Pt 6 - Finally through the worst of it, everyone is allotted a moment to breathe before returning to Kamino.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, reference to vomiting, delirium induced violence, guilt

More then Skin Deep - Wrecker - Doc notices something about Wrecker while training and offers her help.

Warnings: Light sexual tension, reference to past injury, disabilities and light prejudice from appearance - It's mostly just some softness fluff.

"Not Gonna Believe This" - Doc & Tbb - Chow time on Kamino dissolves into chaos in the wake of thoughtless words.

Warnings: Fighting, broken nose, blood, light medical procedures, mild guilt, bit of sexual tension, reference to bullying

Arrows (Special Request) - Doc - A brief moment of peace precedes a mission doomed to misfortune.

Warnings: Bone/joint injury, some PTSD, brief insect creature, mild sexual tension (when isn't there with these guys)

Arrows - Doc Pt 2 - Rapid medical care is given, but it offered little reprieve.

Warnings: Bone/joint injury, profanity, vomiting, heavy whump, medical procedures, needles

Arrows - Doc Pt 3 - Medication offers some relief before the team splits up to retrieve a cure.

Warnings: This one's pretty mild - descriptions of pain, some guilt... I think that's about it

Arrows - Doc Pt 4 - Doc continues to decline as the others race to get back with the cure.

Warnings: Near death, vague drowning (kinda?), reference to light medical procedures, some guilt and profanity

Breaking Point - Doc - Sent to Devaron under the guise of a med-leave, Doc and the boys get a chance to relax, and Doc learns a disturbing truth of Crosshair’s specialty.

Warnings: Vague, cryptic warnings, moral dilemma over assassination, mild tension

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 2 - The squad enjoys the remainder of that day on the lake before finally fulfilling the real reason they were sent there.

Warnings: Sexual tension galore, mild brotherly bullying, profanity, mild body dismorphia regarding prosthetics, assassination, minor character death, blood, guilt, angst, horrors of war

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 3 - Doc struggles with the aftermath of Crosshair's mission.

Warnings: Intense descriptions of grief and guilt. Heavy angst.

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 4 (Explicit) - Doc and Crosshair find an escape in each other. (Click Here for the Censored Version)

Warnings: Guys. It's smut (unless you opt for the censored version, then it's steamy kisses and implied sex). In fact, it's inappropriate use of sex to cope with grief. See tag for explicit version's detailed warnings, profanity, and dread/guilt

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 5 - Before she can deal with the ramifications of her actions, Doc seeks out Crosshair for answers.

Warnings: Non-explicit sex scene, profanity, and dread/guilt - might offer an explicit chapter later, but it wasn't important to the scene, so I didn't go into it this time

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 6 - Tensions are high about the squad as they struggle to accept changing dynamics.

Warnings: Vague reference to sex/ sexual innuendoes, profanity, and more dread/guilt

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 1 - Tensions are still high as the squad attempts to prepare for their next mission.

Warnings: Lots of heavy emotions in this one - angst, guilt, angry, blame, got some profanity in there, and reference to child soldiers kinda

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 2 - A brief distraction from Crosshair offers little comfort once the mission actually starts.

Warnings: Some sexual tension, mild making out, severe anxiety, profanity, war typical violence, and some gory killing

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 3 - Doc shows just how far she's willing to go to save her men.

Warnings: It dark. Ye be warned. Torture. Blood. Broken/dislocated bones. Disassociation. Stabbing. Big profanity warning. Murder.

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 4 - They escape the planet before Doc's actions finally catch up with her.

Warnings: Reference to bone trauma, blood, vomit, disassociation, medical procedures, guilt, angst, needles

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 5 - Doc has a couple conversations that have been held off for too long.

Warnings: Nightmares, guilt, reference to torture/gore, reference to murder/assassination, profanity

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 6 - Doc has the chance to reconnect with most of her squad before plans change.

Warnings: Mild PTSF, guilt, reference to torture/gore, profanity, heated kissing

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Xtra Scene - Crosshair and Echo have a chat.

Warnings: Just some standard guilt, angst, and regret, along with a little sprinkling of profanity.

Identity - Doc Pt 1 - Awkward goodbyes precede the beginning to Doc's secretive mission.

Warnings: Nothing serious - some cursing, a bit of sexual tension/heavy kissing, and some tension in general. Well, lots of tension in general

Identity - Doc Pt 2 - Doc reconnects with her old squad.

Warnings: Brotherly fighting, talk of hunting, nightmares with reference to gore/torture, heavy tension, profanity

Identity - Doc Pt 3 - After a final chat with the 104th, Doc enters the gala.

Warnings: Brotherly bullying, varying degrees of dread, unwanted advances (between two women, though I want to be clear: the 'unwanted' aspect is not due to gender), profanity, brief descriptions of gore and burns, needles, brief description of dead bodies

Identity - Doc Pt 4 - The gala starts of well enough...

Warnings: torture, waterboarding, drowning, interrogation, panic, panic attack, flashbacks, self-blame, giving up, longing for death, temporary insanity, arguably inappropriate use of sedation, guilt, profanity, intense whump

Identity - Doc Pt 5 - Her old squad struggles in the aftermath of the gala.

Warnings: Minor flashbacks/PTSD, reference to torture, loads of guilt and tension, otherwise mostly just fluff and angst

Identity - 99 & 104th Pt 6 - Crosshair demands answers from the remaining members of the 104th.

Warnings: Big emotions in this - rage, guilt, blame, and the like. There do be a bit of fighting, but it's not gory. Brief description of water torture. Profanity

Identity - Doc Pt 7 - The debrief with Cody doesn't go well.

Warnings: Flashbacks/PTSD, description of torture, loads of angst, reference to gore, profanity, self-deprecating thoughts

Identity - Doc Pt 8 - After composing herself, Doc finally returns to her squad.

Warnings: Honestly, aside from the standard guilt and regret, this chapter is mostly fluff

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 1 - The squad is sent on a mission with the sole intent of being granted a moment of peace.

Warnings: This arc will mostly be fluffy stuff, but there will be references to past torture here and there. This one has some flashbacks, profanity, and loads of emotions like guilt, fear, anger, and general angst, as well some brief mention of wanting to die (not SI - with relation to ending torture), and I supposed some dependency

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 2 - A soft morning precedes an important chat.

Warnings: Kissing in bed with some light sexual tension if you squint, then right back into the good ol' hard emotions: self blame, guilt, anxiety; reference to torture, Crosshair being Crosshair, I think there's some light profanity, too

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 3 - The squad lands on Alderaan.

Warnings: sexual tension, mild ptsd

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 4 (Explicit) - Doc and Crosshair finally enjoy some isolation. (Click here for the censored version)

Warnings: Um... so, it's over 8k of smut. Unprotected PiV, oral (m & f receiving), light teasing, profanity

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 5 - Wrecker is shown a moment of the kindness he deserves, and Echo and Doc have a chat

Warnings: reference to sex but nothing explicit. Profanity. Some of the usual, heavy emotions (guilt, dread, etc). This one's pretty calm

Fool's Errand - Hunter Pt 1 - Plans never survive first contact with the enemy.

Warnings: Back to some good, ol' whump here. Minor ptsd, blood, broken nose, needles, profanity

Fool's Errand - Hunter Pt 2 - Doc patches up Hunter while Echo tries to coordinate with Tech and Wrecker to escape.

Warnings: Medical procedures, broken nose, blood, needles, profanity

Fool's Errand - Hunter Pt 3 - Echo and Doc race to get Hunter out of the prison.

Warnings: Suspense, profanity, dread, mild PTSD, mention of blood, reference to medical procedures

Fool's Errand - TBB Pt 4 - Doc races to rescue her squadmates.

Warnings: decent bit of cursing, blood, needles, minor body horror, some ptsd/ minor flashbacks, dislocated knee

Fool's Errand - TBB Pt 5 - The worst injuries are tended to first.

Warnings: fair bit of medical procedures in this one: blood, needles, big needle, body horror, brief mention of child prisoner

Fool's Errand - TBB Pt 6 - The flight back is mostly quiet.

Warnings: reference to previous medical procedures (blood/ needles), wound cleaning, some, uh, tension, child trauma

Flowers - Doc x Crosshair - Fluffy prompt for Clone x Reader Bingo (set a couple arcs ahead of Breaking Point)

Warnings: none really - just has a fluffy kiss

I Missed You, Too - Doc x Crosshair - Another fluff fic for Clone x Reader Bingo (a couple arcs after You'll Have to Go Through Me)

Warnings: Crosshair being Crosshair, but he's really a softy. Snuggling in bed. Probably one of the least Warning-heavy things I've written

Doc's Tales with the 104th

Recommended reading Found Footage first though these will take place before Doc joins CF99.

First Impressions - The wolf pack get their first real meeting with Doc.

Warnings: vague bugs

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