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decembermidnight · 29 days

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Don't lose your focus

Summary: As a Jedi Padawan fighting during the Clone Wars, you and your Master are used to teaming up with Clones. But none are as intriguing as Clone Force 99 and their leader, Sergeant Hunter. Sparks fly immediately and it's difficult to keep your focus. With the mission complete, perhaps the two of you will finally give in and indulge in your desires...

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Hunter, use of pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting, mentions of alcohol consumption, masculinity kink, voice kink, light choking, hand kink, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm delay, creampie

A/N: This is the result of me watching The Bad Batch while ovulating. This is (probably) not how the Force works but your honour I was horny. Thank you to my dear @thefrogdalorian for the immense help and support! I love you so much! Amazing divider by @saradika-graphics At the end of the fic you'll find the links to some amazing Hunter fanarts I found here on Tumblr! These were such an inspiration when writing and I wanted to thank and credit the artists for creating such amazing pieces!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

Another day, another dangerous mission in the Outer Rim.

Nothing new for you and your Master who are used to leading these missions successfully. The only difference is that this time you'll be assisted by Experimental Unit Clone Force 99. It’s the first time you even heard about them, but your superiors assured you they’re best suited for this job. A highly-skilled squad of defective clones with desirable mutations? Sounds interesting.

Apparently, The Bad Batch, as they call themselves, despise rules and protocol and adopt unusual methods to get the job done… Much like you and your Master.

Their ship has just made a bumpy landing on the field, causing a fuss. You watch curiously as the squad descends the ramp. There are four of them, and they undoubtedly look badass in their black armour.

The first one – their leader, you assume – removes his helmet and... damn. Damn. He's hot, with a confident look in his deep brown eyes. He also has long, wavy, dark hair; a feature which has always been a weakness of yours. His face is half covered in a tattoo that resembles a skeleton. He's undoubtedly the most charming of the Batch, and also the most attractive clone you’ve ever come across.

“I’m Sergeant Hunter,” he rasps as he greets you and your Master. His voice is deep and husky, very different from those of all the other clones you’ve met so far.

After introducing himself, Hunter moves to quickly describe the peculiarities that make each of the members of the team unique. As you stand back to observe them, you can’t help thinking just how much fun they are. Wrecker (the strong one) is getting reluctantly lectured by Tech (the smart one) while Crosshair (the laconic and lethal sniper) stands there in silence. He reminds you of your Master so much.

As much as you enjoy observing the rest of the squad, you find your gaze returns to Hunter, the clone with enhanced senses. You are unable to tear your eyes away from him. You know you have to keep it together, but you can’t help eating him with your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his body, on the way his pauldrons make his shoulders even broader, how much the black colour of his armour suits him.

You have just begun fantasising about the way his strong body would look without the armour when you notice Hunter staring directly at you. Busted. You lock eyes for a few seconds and you just know that he understands the nature of the thoughts you’re having about him. Then, your pounding heart skips a beat when Hunter winks at you. It is a split-second gesture that is over so quickly amidst the chaos of the conversation, a little secret between the two of you. You smile flirtatiously at him in response.

The whole group begins heading towards their ship, The Marauder. While the rest of the Batch and your Master head up the ramp towards the ship that will take you to the rendezvous point, you and Hunter pause at the bottom.

“I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"I am a Jedi, not a sweetheart," you point out teasingly and look at him with crossed arms, trying to sound tough.

"A Padawan," he reminds you with a smirk on his face.

You watch curiously as Hunter takes your braid – the unmistakable sign of your rank as an apprentice – between his fingers. He gently rolls it between his gloved finger and thumb contemplatively as his brown eyes meet your gaze once again.

"I technically outrank you, Sergeant," you say, challenging him.

"You do, Commander," Hunter nods, but makes no effort to move his hand away from your braid, or to interrupt eye contact.

Hunter can tell that you don’t mind the gesture. As if to push the boundaries further, he moves his hand from your braid to gently place it on your cheek. The leather of his glove feels soft against your face. You are stunned that a seasoned soldier such as him can actually be so gentle in the way he touches you.

You can feel the tension coming from the two of you, a simmering fire somewhere deep within. It's only a matter of time before it boils over. You look at each other straight in the eyes, neither one of you daring to look away.

Just as you're about to tease him with yet another witty reply, you hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, Hunter, are you gonna come with us or what?!" Wrecker shouts, abruptly interrupting your shameless flirting.

"On my way," Hunter replies, without breaking eye contact with you.

His intense gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he looks at you apologetically and turns to head up to the ramp and onto the Marauder.

As soon as Hunter turns away from you, you realise just how hard your heart is thundering in your chest. His gaze was so intense that it made you forget to breathe properly. So much for the Jedi breathing techniques. It turns out if there is a handsome man with dark eyes flirting with you, they lose all effectiveness. You take a deep breath, filling your burning lungs with oxygen.

When you enter the ship, you are still trembling. As you take a seat next to your Master, you try to ignore his accusatory glare. You feel his eyes burning into your soul as the guilt threatens to overwhelm you, even though nothing too scandalous happened.

As the Marauder enters hyperspace, your Master takes a seat on the cold metallic floor in an isolated area of the ship. Meditating before battle is a ritual he always follows and you immediately join him. It can help you shift your focus back to where it should be – on the mission. Only, you can't focus.

Instead of your mind becoming one with the Force, you're highly attuned to the actions of the members of the squad. It is as though you can see them as if you were standing before them: Tech studying the holo-maps, Crosshair cleaning his sniper rifle, Wrecker taking a nap, and of course, Hunter. He is mindlessly playing with his vibroknife as he slouches on a crate.

You are entranced by the way his fingers move across the handle and the blade. Maker, the movement of his hand and fingers – you can't focus on anything else as he makes the knife masterfully swirl between them. There's something so erotic about the way he plays with it. Your mind wanders to think about his hands roaming on your body, slipping between your thighs, skillfully rubbing your clit. You fantasise about how quickly Hunter would make you come, how hard your orgasm would be as it tore through you, leaving you a trembling wreck.

Your focus then goes to his muscular thighs. Hunter’s legs are spread wide and he looks so effortlessly masculine. The aura of confidence he radiates as he comfortably sits there, taking up the entire crate as he lounges on top of it, gives you even more thoughts that are unbecoming of a Padawan. It makes you almost dizzy with want as you think about how much you want to straddle him and ride him into ecstasy.

“Are you done?” your Master’s cold voice interrupts your filthy train of thought with a brief and concise message through the Force.

He heard your thoughts. Each and every single one. Your Master caught you red-handed. How embarrassing.

You are too mortified to even mumble an apology, through the Force or otherwise. Instead, you sit there wishing you could be anywhere else in the galaxy as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and pull your hood up to hide your flustered face in your cape.

Luckily, before the awkward moment can continue for any longer, Tech announces the imminent jump out of hyperspace. You still cannot bear to make eye contact with your Master, shrinking into your blessedly baggy cape as you begin the descent into the planet’s atmosphere...

The mission was a success – you and your Master worked your magic with the precious support of Clone Force 99. What seemed like a desperate operation, turned out to be an extremely important victory for the Republic. Training with your Master has been so hard, but damn did that pay off. You slayed all your enemies elegantly and effortlessly, just like he taught you. The whole Bad Batch congratulated you two. Wrecker was especially impressed, electing the two of you as his favourite Jedi. What an honour. Hunter also invited you and your Master to celebrate the victory by having a drink all together in a cantina.

Just as you’re about to enter the cantina and join the Bad Batch, your Master calls your name. You stop in your tracks, scared that he might reprimand you for the way you acted today. You begin panicking and thinking back to what happened in guilt…

When you and your Master had taken off your heavy capes before engaging in battle, you noticed Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were wearing a skin-tight dark suit, after all.

It was a fact you decided to exploit after Hunter had given his squad their orders for the mission. You walked away swaying your hips, making sure you gave him a great opportunity to look at your ass. You remember how you could feel his eyes glued to it. You could also feel his desire for you. It was impossible for him to hide; it permeated him, radiated from him. Maker, you love making him crumble.

You think back to the way Crosshair rasped, "Hunter, don't lose your focus.” You are certain that is what your Master is about to scold you for.

Instead, you watch in shock as a half smile appears on your Master’s face, something you don't see very often.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” he nods.

Since when does your Master pay you compliments like this?

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, caught off-guard by how unexpected his praise is.

“You fulfilled your duties as a Jedi. Now, go and have your fun.”

You don’t have time to respond before he turns on his heel and walks away, cape billowing in the breeze. You know your Master doesn’t often like to stick around after missions, often needing some quiet time to himself to decompress and meditate. You let him go, knowing that he will find his way back to the Marauder before it departs, as he always does.

As you step into the Cantina, a smile spreads on your face when you notice the Bad Batch sitting at a table with a full flagon of booze and an empty seat for you to toast your success. You and Hunter lock eyes again as he invites you to sit in that spot close to him.

Hunter loses no time in placing his arm around your shoulders while smiling at you. You lean into his embrace, feeling comforted and protected. The warm presence of his arm around you makes you smile contentedly. It feels so good to let the guard down for once, especially if you're in the arms of a handsome, strong and charming man such as Hunter.

As the night goes on, the three other members of The Bad Batch keep conversing with each other, giving you and Hunter the opportunity to speak privately. It’s as though the background noise fades out. You don't even bother focusing on the discourse the others are having. It’s just you and Hunter flirting shamelessly now.

“You know, I've never seen a ship like yours. I wish I had time to properly explore it... Thoroughly," you flirt with him while draining the last few dregs in your flagon.

"Want me to give you a tour, sweetheart?" he says with a smile on his face, perfectly understanding your intentions.

"Would be cool, yeah," you reply.

Hunter offers you his hand and you gladly accept it with a mischievous smile.

Just as you stand, you feel the alcohol has definitely kicked in. You’re not drunk though, just a little bit tipsy, enough to make you brave and go get exactly what you want.

As soon as you and Hunter get out of the cantina and find yourselves alone in the dark alley, you both give into the instincts you tried to suppress all day long. Hunter pins you to the wall as you pull him closer at the same time, until you join in a passionate, longing kiss.

You welcome his tongue in your mouth as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch and the way he kisses you are so confident that you clench around nothing, holding him tighter as you moan in his mouth. Maker, you want him. His whole body jolts when he feels that, pinning you harder against the wall, mentally cursing the armour that is preventing him from feeling the softness of your body against his.

He stops kissing you just so he can look at how stunning you are under the moonlight, hot and flustered after that first, heavy session of making out.

"Look at you. So beautiful," he whispers as he cups your face with his hand, the other one still lingering around your waist. Hunter is treating you like the most precious thing in the galaxy now that he can finally have you all for himself. You lean into his gentle touch as he takes in all the features of your face, especially the way your eyes glimmer with admiration and arousal for him.

You look at his deep, dark and expressive brown eyes and the strong, masculine features of his face that make you throb with need. Your hand caresses his cheek, following the lines of his skeleton tattoo and the contour of his chiseled jaw. He observes you as a sweet smile appears on your face, making you look irresistible and drawing his lips closer to yours once again…

"Hey! Where's Hunter?!" you hear Wrecker shout from inside of the tavern, just as your lips are mere inches apart.

You and Hunter both laugh as you resume the kissing. It's like the whole galaxy stops existing. For a soldier who has seen nothing but war, his kisses are to die for. Your tongues twirl in each other's mouths and it's like his greedy lips can't ever get enough of yours. His mouth is hot like a damn furnace as he takes all the time in the galaxy to worship you with his lips, letting his hands wander throughout your body. You're getting soaked already, feeling your arousal slowly dripping down your legs as a throbbing need pulsates between your thighs. You moan in his mouth as you dig your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate as you go on.

Hunter's lips start to trail down to your neck, making you sigh deeply as he covers it in kisses. Your scent drives him wild. He can smell your pheromones, feeling you're unmistakably full of desire. He can't resist and just gives a swift lick from the base of your neck to your ear that makes you sharply stifle a gasp, arching your back and tightening your grip on his hair.

"Let's go to the Marauder, shall we?" he rasps in your ear, a voice full of lust that gives you goosebumps.

"Y-yes…" you stutter, feeling light-headed with arousal and being incapable of hiding it.

He offers you his hand as you enter the ship. The two of you cut a clumsy path through the Marauder towards Hunter’s bunk, frequently taking breaks where Hunter desperately pushes you against the cool steel walls of the ship, your arms clinging tight to his shoulders and his face buried in your neck.

"Maker... Take off your armour," you plead as his teeth dig into your delicate skin like a feral beast would do with his prey.

He does, letting each piece fall to the ground as you go on kissing each other, leaving a trail of armour pieces on the floor as you slowly make your way towards his bunk. He looks stunning with just his tight black suit on. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his pectorals stand out, highlighted by the tightness of the suit and grope the strong muscles of his biceps. Oh, fuck. How much do you love a man. Tall, muscular, strong, confident, with dark eyes and a head full of long, wavy hair. A Man.

You moan in his mouth when you feel his thick biceps flexing under your touch. A smile forms on his lips as he feels how much you like this. As his arms wrap around your body, yours go in his hair. Maker, how safe do you feel in his arms. It's such an innate instinct – wanting to be held in the arms of a strong man, surrendering and trusting him, something that usually you would never be permitted to do in your life as a Jedi.

You can feel his erection against your lower belly, straining against his extremely thin black suit. His fingers hook in the hem of your pants, yanking them down over your ass, exposing your drenched cunt as he sits you down in his bunk.

He kneels before you, taking your boots and pants off and spreads your legs, his dark eyes looking into yours as a smirk appears on his face.

"Hunter–" you sigh.

"Wanna get you nice and ready for me, sweetheart," he coos as he starts to kiss your inner thigh.

The vision makes you tremble with lust and your hands helplessly clench into fists in a desperate attempt to grab the material under you to keep you steady. Your legs shake but he keeps them steady in his strong arms. He goes on trailing kisses on your inner thighs without ever stopping looking at you. He's taking his time with it, wanting to enjoy the way your whole body is throbbing with need. Your breathing gets more and more shallow as his mouth gets closer to where you want him the most.

You lift your gaze from Hunter’s dark brown eyes, shutting your eyes for a mere fraction of a second, trying to alleviate the aching need you feel. Hunter chooses that moment to finally give you what you need. With a quick lick to your clit, your whole body jerks into his touch and a whimper escapes from your lips.

Hunter smirks up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards in a smug, satisfied look. Then, he proceeds to bury his face between your legs and masterfully lick your swollen clit. His tongue brings you so much pleasure that your back arches involuntarily, pushing yourself further into his mouth. You moan his name and grab a handful of his long, thick hair. He purrs in your cunt when you entangle your fingers in his hair and you notice how his grip on your legs becomes tighter.

"Oh... Oh fuck!" you exclaim in ecstasy, barely able to form words.

One of his hands releases its grasp on your legs, which he has been using to keep you spread open for him. You throw your head back gasping as he slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside you.

"So tight," he growls with a smirk on his face.

Hunter pumps his fingers inside of you, slowly increasing the rhythm, ensuring that you’re stretched out for him. It is a motion that brings you so much pleasure you wonder how it could possibly get better. Your whole body jerks in pure bliss under his touch. He enjoys looking at you like this, you can see it from how darkened his eyes are with lust.

For a brief second, his fingers and mouth leave your cunt, leaving you devastatingly empty. You watch in awe as Hunter sticks them in his mouth, without breaking eye contact with you. He sucks on his fingers, humming while closing his eyes to savor your taste from places where his tongue can’t reach.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he rasps as he resumes fucking you with his fingers.

He watches you contort under him, moaning and begging for him to return his skillful mouth between your thighs. Your hips thrust up and down right in front of his face. You are shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers, inviting him to bury his face back in your folds. You desperately bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Damn, you're so beautiful like this," he says before his mouth goes back exactly where you wanted.

Then, Hunter does something absolutely devastating. While he continues licking your clit, he starts sucking it gently, all as he continues pumping his thick fingers inside of you. Hunter wants to draw an orgasm from you, his actions becoming more and more frantic as you grow closer to your climax. He can feel by the irregular way you breathe and shake that you're close.

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Let go, sweetheart," he encourages you.

It's only a matter of seconds before you come, writhing under him. Your legs are wrapped around his head, squishing it. You scream his name so loud it echoes in the Marauder. Hunter is pleased as he looks at your blissed-out expression and feels your cunt clamping around his fingers. Your back arches as you ride your orgasm, pushing yourself further into his tongue so you can feel him licking you through your orgasm. Hunter purrs into your cunt, loving the way you let go around him. He loves how his face is getting soaked in your arousal, so addicted to the way you taste.

Hunter holds you steady as your orgasm fades out. When you regain your senses, you slowly release your grip on his hair. Only then he props himself up and slowly unzips his suit, showing you the beautiful golden skin underneath. A warm contrast under the black, tight layer.

The dark hairs on his chest are perfectly trimmed, accentuating each of his toned muscles and the tattoos which decorate his thick, masculine body. Your gaze is locked on his hand trailing down his abdomen, his muscles rippling as he approaches the hem of his pants.

You shamelessly look at the bulge in his dark suit, a sight that makes your mouth water. Hunter’s lips curve into a smirk once again, noticing that you like what you see. The smug look on his face makes you throb with need once again, despite the fact that he just gave you an intense orgasm.

He hooks his thumb in the hem of his pants, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly pulls the material down to reveal the trimmed, dark hairs around the base of his thick cock.

Hunter notices the intense way you look at it and hears the whimper you just tried to suppress in your throat. He can feel your heart rate going up. It makes him smirk confidently as he goes on, finally freeing his hard, thick cock. You gulp while looking at it, as he uses the same fingers he had buried in you to cover it in your arousal. He gives it a few, firm strokes to ensure it’s nice and wet for you. The mere vision of it makes you bite your lip to muffle another impatient whimper.

Then he is on you, peeling your shirt away from your quivering body, rejoicing when he can finally touch it and worship it with his mouth. Hunter trails kisses across your collarbones and down towards your breasts. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh there, before softly biting your nipples. You gasp when you feel his erection hard against your cunt. He starts to thrust his hips against yours so his cock can rub against your drenched core, getting it soaked in your juices. Your mind turns completely blank at that, heart thundering in your chest as his hands roam across your body.

Hunter aligns himself to your entrance, groaning as his cock slowly makes its way inside of you. You admire his restraint. You know how much he probably wants to take you with one thrust, but instead he is being so gentle and careful with you, making sure that you are well-adjusted to his size.

He takes your jaw in his hand, looking deep inside your eyes as his thick cock stretches you open. You struggle to keep eye contact with him, unlike earlier when you were flirting with him. Now, your eyes only want to roll backwards. The pleasure you feel as he splits you open is overwhelming your body and senses.

You pathetically try to mumble some incoherencies, but he's quick to shut you up with a kiss. Hunter growls low in his throat when he feels your walls desperately clenching around him, as he buries himself into you to the hilt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good," he rasps, almost desperately before giving you another wet kiss. Then, he raises his hips only to bury his cock deep inside you, making you moan into his mouth.

"How – how can you feel so fucking good?" he whimpers.

Hunter’s large hands gently cup your face, as he continues placing passionate kisses against your lips while thrusting into you. You notice his kisses become more desperate as he slowly increases the rhythm. As Hunter picks up the pace, he buries his face in your neck, panting low in your ear.

You are certain that he can’t go any faster, before he proves you wrong. He increases the pace to a brutal rhythm, fucking you so hard you start screaming.

"So loud,” he rasps, “They're gonna hear us in the Cantina."

"Then make me shut up," you whisper daringly.

A blaze of lust glimmers in his eyes as you lay down that challenge. Something shifts inside of him as he gives you a feral, animalistic look. Hunter quickly covers your mouth with his hand, showing you his more dominant, commanding side which makes you clamp tightly around his cock.

"Oh, you like this," he smirks, satisfied that this is precisely what you wanted all along.

You nod frantically. There is no use hiding how much this turns you on. Despite how much Hunter shows care towards you, you suspect there is something darker which lingers below the surface. You want to draw it out of him.

"What else do you like, hm?" he coos as he wraps his other hand around your throat, lightly choking you, his thumb rubbing your throat possessively.

The sight of you, looking so vulnerable under him as he can finally dominate you makes him frantic with lust. Gone are the measured thrusts and even rhythm of before. Something feral has overtaken Hunter, a desperate need to claim you. He continues silencing your moans with one hand around your throat and one across your mouth, muffling your gasps as he wrecks you with his cock.

Having Hunter's hand muffling your own moans gives you the opportunity to hear his desperate grunts and pants as they mix with the obscene, squelching sound his cock makes each time he thrusts into you. You close your eyes in bliss, enjoying this moment of pure pleasure.

"Can't keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart? Look at me with those pretty fucking eyes," he growls.

You can't help but whimper at that, at how authoritative he sounds. The Sergeant of The Bad Batch is dominating the fuck out of you. You are a moaning, gasping mess beneath him, unable to think about anything other than how good being furiously pounded by him feels.

"I didn't catch that,” Hunter rasps as he slowly lifts his hand from your mouth. He leans down to put his ear against your mouth “What were you saying, sweetheart?"

"L-let me – fuck!” you gasp, too blissed out to form words.

“Use your words,” Hunter commands, slowing his thrusts down so you can finally speak.

“Let me touch you!" you beg, unable to care about how desperate and pathetic you sound. All you can think about is roaming your hands around the warm, firm expanse of his body.

Hunter smirks, intrigued by your request, only too happy to oblige you. He grabs your hand roughly by the wrist and positions it over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing and contracting under your touch as he thrusts into you. His body is as hard as iron and on fire like a damn furnace, burning with lust.

"Maker…" you whisper.

You let your hand trail up to his firm chest. You grope his pectorals, appreciating the firmness of his muscles. Your cunt clenches around his cock at the sight of your hand against his golden skin. A smirk appears on his face, enjoying what he does to you.

Your hand goes up to his broad shoulder, rubbing over it before you move your hand towards his back. You feel how his muscles strain there with each thrust as he continues pounding into you at a relentless pace. Both of your hands are now caressing his back, feeling every single dimple under your fingertips. Just as you try pulling him close, he starts to give it to you even harder. You scratch your fingernails along his back. You watch in awe as Hunter moans in your mouth at that.

"Could–could fucking smell how much you wanted me earlier. You distracted me the whole time. Couldn't think of anything else besides how good you'd look with my cock inside of you,” he rasps in your neck before biting you, growling wildly as he does. “I was so fucking hard for you, sweetheart," Hunter grunts.

He's so feral for you, fucking you so hard. You can't even mumble a response.

"Smell so good – so fucking good–" he whispers in your ear.

"D-don't s–stop," you mumble in your cockdrunk delirium.

"I can't, sweetheart. This cunt's all I ever wanted,” he growls, “Gonna make you mine. Mine."

"Oh, fuck… Yes," you pant as he props himself up, kneeling in front of you without stopping that devastating rhythm for even half a second.

He looks at your body, at the way your boobs bounce with each thrust as he gives it go you even harder, holding on tight to your legs, using them as leverage to bury himself even deeper inside of you. Seeing him like this makes you remember just how badly you wanted to ride his cock earlier.

"Hunter. Hunter. I want to ride you," you whimper.

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"Y–yes. Yes. Order. S–s-sergeant," you mindlessly go on as he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock makes him throb. In an instant, Hunter lifts you in his arms as if you were weightless and makes you straddle him. He sits with his back against the wall of the bunk. His hands are on your waist and you immediately start rocking your hips up and down, giving into your fantasy from earlier.

"Such a good soldier… So good at following orders," you whisper against his lips.

"Yeah… Sometimes," he smirks before gripping your hair and stealing another wet, hot kiss that makes you melt into him even further.

Your head rolls back in pleasure at the way his cock feels from this position. It's devastating, hitting something deep within you. You almost lose yourself in that feeling, but Hunter won’t allow you to. Even though you are on top of him, Hunter is quick to remind you who’s in charge as he takes your jaw in his hand.

"Eyes on me," he orders firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan.

You swear you feel him throbbing and choke a grunt when he hears the sensual way you pronounce his title. Clearly, using his rank in this context has done something to Hunter. He moves his thumb between your lips and you suck it provocatively, never stopping yourself from meeting his gaze. Hunter’s pupils widen at the sinful way your lips envelop his finger and your tongue gently touches it. His eyes take into your sensual, precious beauty, before bringing you to him and kissing you again.

Your bodies are damp in sweat and rubbing against one another. Your nipples deliciously catch against his hairy, broad chest. You continue moaning into each other's mouths; your tongues never stop touching.

"Hunter, I'm gonna come–" you whimper.

"Hold it for me, sweetheart," he rasps in a sweet, yet dark voice, having the opposite effect from what he intended.

"Please, I want to come on your cock," you plead desperately.

"Not yet," he smirks.

Hunter grabs your hips and guides your movements so that your clit starts to rub against his pelvis. You let out a loud moan as you hold on to him tighter, digging your nails in his shoulders.

"I can't hold it!" you scream with your eyes shut.

He grabs your chin in his hand, clearly uninterested in your desperate appeals.

"Look at me," he says firmly as you open your eyes. Your vision is too blurry to focus on him but you try nonetheless.

"Now come for me, sweetheart," he rasps darkly.

You obey his order and come hard around his cock. An overwhelming, intense wave of pleasure starts at your core and completely takes over your body. You’re wrecked by uncontrollable shakes as Hunter holds you in his strong arms. You scream and pant as you ride your high. Your eyes roll backwards while Hunter focuses on how beautiful you look when you lose control. Especially when he is the one responsible for it.

Hunter feels your heart running in your chest and every single contraction of your muscles around his cock. The unmistakable, heady scent of sex that fills the Marauder drives him insane, making him burst inside of you. He grunts loudly as he fills you up with his load, holding you tight in his grasp.

You moan in each other's mouths, your forehead leaning on his as you look into each other’s eyes. You never leave each other’s gaze as you both give into the highest of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your rhythm slows down until it stops completely. Your bodies are intertwined like vines, naked and sweaty as you catch breath in each other’s embrace.

You really do make a great team, after all.

Fanarts: Hunter's back + Shirtless Hunter by @mesvi Hello handsome by @corukant Wet Hunter by @iszapizza Hunter under the shower by @shakall Hunter and his vibroknife by @ve-ti-ver Hunter under the shower by @cloned-eyes Hunter taking off his shirt + Tech by @constant-brain-fog Hunter taking a shower by kaijurave (on twitter/x)

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david-talks-sw · 1 year

Text

When a Star Wars writer engages with the material but not the narrative.

I'm writing a long post about the Jedi and the clone troopers and there's a whole section that I had to remove because it was too long:

Karen Traviss' take on the Jedi and the clones.

I already wrote about why Karen Traviss' take on the Jedi and Yoda doesn't track with what George Lucas had established in his narrative of the Prequels. Since then, I've been able to do more research.

It's no secret that one of the reasons Traviss listed for criticizing the Jedi in the Expanded Universe books she wrote is their treatment of the clones (or at least what she understood it to be).

In 2008, she wrote a now-deleted blog post about it (it was really long, so I'm only including the part relevant to my point, if you want the full context you can look it up, this is old stuff).

So if you ask me, in the above quote, Traviss is essentially doing the equivalent of saying:

"Batman is a psycho elitist who beats up the mentally ill and indoctrinates kids, turning them into child soldiers for his unending crazy vigilante war on crime, and if you can't recognize that then you scare the living crap out of me."

Like... you can argue that, and a couple of comics have argued that.

But by and large, the general consensus is that Batman is a superhero, the Robins are his sons and daughter, and the "mentally ill" are in fact the Joker and Two-Face aka mass murderers.

So if you make that argument, that's you applying your real-life values and conclusions to a narrative that deliberately doesn't acknowledge those points, in-universe, in order to tell the story it wants to tell.

It's counting on your suspension of disbelief, defined as "the avoidance—often described as willing—of critical thinking and logic in understanding something that is unreal or impossible in reality, such as something in a work of speculative fiction, in order to believe it for the sake of enjoying its narrative."

The Jedi accepting the clones and the clones being slaves isn't a "delicate point". It's barely a point at all!

It's never addressed in the film (because of course it isn't, the Prequels are about Anakin and the Republic, not the clones).

It's only addressed once by Slick, an unreliable narrator, in The Clone Wars.

That's it. Hell, in 2008, when The Clone Wars writer Henry Gilroy was asked to comment on the relationship between clones and Jedi, he explicitly said he'd "rather not get into" that particular point.

I recently got Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of 'Attack of the Clones' and nowhere is that detail touched on by Lucas at any point.

Nobody wants to touch on that point with a 10ft pole, because it's not relevant to the story.

So while Traviss acknowledges the Jedi are fictional characters, she doesn't follow that thread through to the end by acknowledging that fictional characters don't have free will, they must abide by the story and the whim of the writer.

She's engaging with the material, but refusing to engage with the narrative. She's having her cake and eating it too.

My reason for saying all this is that in the book Star Wars on Trial, she elaborates on her thought process upon discovering this detail.

Shortly before to this, she acknowledges twice that she knew nothing about Star Wars, beside seeing the original films in her youth.

Another writer who saw the new films and saw Mace Windu argue against there being a war...

... the worry on his face at the prospect of the Jedi being thrown at the Separatists...

... and the sheer melancholy on Yoda's face upon announcing the Clone War had begun...

... might have instead wondered how the Jedi, so opposed to war, could've ended up being generals.

Because while we don't see the Jedi openly protest the use of the clones in the film... they're not exactly giddy about it, either. All they can do is watch powerlessly as it gets voted by the Senate.

"The Jedi are there. But the Jedi aren't really allowed to be involved in the political process. They're there, but they can't suddenly step up and say, "No, no. You can't do that." They have to let the political process go." - George Lucas, Attack of the Clones, Commentary #2, 2002

We also don't see them take on the role of generals, either.

We only see them begrudgingly lead troops on Geonosis, specifically.

But they're not referred to as "generals" yet.

Another writer might have imagined a scene where after Geonosis, Mace Windu talks to Palpatine thinking the Jedi will go back to their roles as diplomats, and that what we saw in Attack of the Clones was a one-time thing to save Obi-Wan, but Palpatine politely goes:

"Ha! No. Didn't you hear? The Senate was so impressed by your performance on Geonosis that they voted to make you all generals in the GAR. Now, get back to the front."

Another writer might've elected to write them having that "big moral debate" she mentions.

Instead, Traviss immediately jumps on the "Jedi are elitists" train.

Because her personal experience with the military makes her sympathize with the clones and her personal belief is that - while the story may frame the Jedi as "the good guys" - nobody is that good a guy, real life people aren't that pure and selfless. There's gotta be something off about them and aHA! That's what it is!

That's her choosing to take that line of thought instead of one more in-line with the story, because she perceives it as unrealistic. But like... Star Wars isn't real life, it's a fairy tale.

That's like saying:

"The hunter in Little Red Riding Hood commits animal cruelty by cutting the Wolf open. He should've let nature take its course, the wolf earned that meal fair and square. If you think the hunter should've saved Red Riding Hood and her Grandma, then clearly you're the kind of monster who thinks one life is worth more than others."

... no?

The story's narrative clearly portrays the wolf as the villain of the tale and frames the Hunter saving Red Riding Hood as a good thing.

Disagreeing with that narrative is absolutely fine, but anybody who acknowledges the wolf is the bad guy in the story isn't automatically an animal hater and/or a bad person. Just because you say "the wolf is the villain" doesn't mean that you think that, in real life, killing wolves for shits and giggles is good.

Conversely, the narrative of the Prequels asks you to suspend your disbelief and not consider the implications that having a clone army entails. Because the use of clones doesn't have a direct impact on either Anakin or the Senate's stories.

Edit: I finished the post this one here originally spun out of!

You can find it here:

#Karen Traviss #clone troopers #jedi order #in defense of the jedi

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moonstrider9904 · 1 month

Text

Don't Blame Me

This one shot is for the Bad Batch Prompt event using the prompt:

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

Pairing: Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Tags: 18+ strictly. Minors should not interact with this or any of my writing pieces as they are content for adults only. Smut, sexual tension, foul language and swearing, oral (female receiving) sex, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, flirting.

Playlist: Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

@arctrooper69 Tagging you right here :D

A night like that one was much too rare. The sun had just finished going down beneath the horizon, and the faintest hue of blue still lit the sky while the stars had already begun their nightly dance. The breeze was warm on your skin, even with the drops of water that lingered on you as you sat at the edge of the pool with your feet and calves still in the water, your hands running down your wet hair as you sighed and took in the life of the moment. The speakers played chill tunes, easy to listen to, perfect to vibe with the summery air and the laughs coming from all around the pool.

You looked around and smiled at the fact that all of your favorite troopers were there, and even some you hadn’t seen before—probably shinies who had just joined their platoons. Boys from the 501st, 212th, hell, even the 99s had bothered to come to a summer pool night on Naboo for their shore leave.

You couldn't help but laugh and think you’d seen it all when, across the pool, you saw that silver-haired sniper taking a sip from a bright cocktail. And his eyes were on you too, glaring, but you were used to that. You shot a cheeky grin at Crosshair only for him to roll his eyes and look away.

Your gaze remained on him for a little longer until you heard somebody diving into the pool, and when you looked at the crystalline water lit by the warm bulbs submerged in it, you quickly realized it was Fives as he emerged from under the water running his hands up his face and towards the back of his head, brushing the hair away. In that pose, Fives opened his arms and flexed, showing off his biceps as he shot you his signature charming grin, winking at you.

“These babies have gotten bigger since the last time I saw you, sweetheart,” Fives beamed.

Laughter escaped you—as much as you adored Fives, his attempts at flirting were always a sight to behold. Something about young, handsome soldiers tripping over their feet for your attention made you wish all summer nights were like that one, and to follow along with Fives’ game, you crossed one leg over the other, planted your hands firmly on the ground at your sides and shrugged, pursing your lips together.

“I don’t know, they kinda look the same to me,” you teased him.

“Don’t listen to him,” you heard the voice next to you as Jesse took a seat beside you only to fully get into the pool and swim over next to Fives, adopting his same pose. “I actually think I pull it off better, and I only lift half as often as he does. It’s like I don’t even have to try.”

“Oh, shut up!” Fives yelled, grinning mischievously as he brushed his hand and forearm over the water’s surface in Jesse’s direction, splashing him.

“That’s how you wanna do it, you runt?” Jesse played along and began splashing back.

As if that gesture were a galactic beckoning for the clones, the pool almost instantly became filled with troopers wanting to partake in the splash battle. You giggled as you watched them splash and wrestle playfully—the scene in front of you was probably the best definition of “boys being boys.” You loved it, and laughter wouldn’t stop leaving you. For the duration of that night, you hadn’t enjoyed anything more than what was currently playing out in front of you.

However, across the pool, the same pair of piercing amber eyes glared past the scene and into you, but you weren’t taking notice of that anymore.

It only took a few seconds for the clones’ splash war to no longer be about you, and the water flying in from multiple directions was beginning to get out of hand. Wiping a couple of drops that had fallen near your eyes, you got up and made your way towards the chair where you’d left your things. You slipped your feet into your sandals, smiling at the sound of the racket behind you blending with the music, and then you took the cream-colored shawl you’d taken to the party and wrapped it around your hips in a makeshift skirt. You were in the mood for a drink now, but while the water wars ended, you figured you’d hit the powder room to adjust your suit.

Crosshair watched you from where he stood, his eyes following your silhouette as you walked from the pool to the lounge. Every time your right leg came forward, your skin was exposed by the edges of the fabric wrapped around your hips, offering him a teasing glimpse of your thigh. He picked up on the sway of your hips, the delicate left and right of every step that you took, partnered perfectly with your hands coming back and forth in tandem with your stride. As you walked past the chairs and the tables, Crosshair took in how gracefully your hair framed your face, as well as how perfectly the top of your bathing suit framed your breasts and the top half of your belly, letting him see the skin just above your belly button only for the smoothness to stop just above your womb, where the shawl began.

Fuck. He suppressed a groan. Did you even have any idea how sensual you looked? Clearly you didn’t, why else would you waste yourself on all those amateurs trying to impress you with a basic flex and a splish-splash of water?

You’d made it to the common mirror just outside the restrooms and looked at your reflection in the flattering warm lighting. You combed through your hair using your fingers, trying to achieve a carefree look, a blend between messy and done that seemed right for the night. When you were done with that, you eased a few creases on the fabric of your shawl and tightened the knot—you didn’t want that getting loose on accident—and you smoothed out the top of your bathing suit as well. Once you were ready to head back out into the party, you turned around and began making your way where you came from. Your thoughts on what cocktail you were gonna get were interrupted by a tall, lean silhouette dressed in black coming into view. The sight of those amber eyes made you stop in your tracks, and you couldn’t help the little grin that appeared on your lips.

“Look who finally decided to socialize,” you teased him.

Crosshair scoffed, his eyes looking aside as he did. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t waste my time or energy with you.”

You placed your hands over your heart, faking a heartache. “Must you hurt me so?”

“I’m not particularly happy with you,” Crosshair crooned.

You giggled. “You’re never happy with anyone. And you of all people have no reason to hold anything against me, you never even let yourself open up to me.” Your gaze softened and you took a step towards him, holding your fists behind your back and pouting up at him. “Why won’t you let me in, Crosshair?”

Again, he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here for this.”

“Something tells me you did,” you answered. “Here I am, what do you want with me?”

“Nothing,” Crosshair nearly spat the word out.

You raised a brow. No one in that party could deny how insightful you were, not even him.

Crosshair scoffed again. “Fine, I’ll bite.”

“Please do,” you couldn’t resist the urge to say.

“Maybe I didn’t like the way the others were making fools out of themselves for your attention,” Crosshair glared. “It was pathetic to watch.”

“Ah,” you crossed your arms, nodding slowly. “So you’re jealous.”

“Fuck, no,” Crosshair smirked. “I just wouldn’t be caught dead being a complete idiot like that.”

“So you aren’t jealous?” You smirked back.

“No.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to stab someone?” Your smirk widened.

You’d cornered him, and Crosshair hated that. He was used to always having the upper hand, the higher ground, to being on top of everything. Nothing could ever surprise him, and when it did, it only meant he’d screwed up. The fact that you had just done that in the most leisurely of settings made him want to puke.

“Forget this,” he said, his silhouette beginning to turn around.

“I didn’t take you for the type to run away, Crosshair,” you said as your hands went over to your hips and you shifted your weight onto your left side, emphasizing the curves of your silhouette.

Crosshair faced you again, his gaze darkening at the little pose you’d adopted. You noticed his eyes running down your body, but when they met yours again, his gaze hardened.

“Fuck you,” he said, without hesitating.

You scoffed, looking at him from head to toe as well. “Fuck me yourself, you coward. I’d like to see if you can.”

He scoffed, his thin lips curving into a smile as he made his way towards you painfully slowly. Hovering in front of you, he took his fingers up to your chin, tilting your face up, making your breath hitch despite your witty exterior.

“You better be damn serious about that, doll,” Crosshair purred with hungry eyes.

“What, did I stutter?” Your breath shook as you whispered, and your hand snaked up his abdomen and felt his chest over the black shirt he wore. “What other way do I have to tell you I want this?”

The hand that was on your chin traveled back and down to cup the side of your neck, firm, but never hard enough to hurt you. Crosshair’s fingertips rested gently on your nape, and his other hand went up and joined the first in perfect symmetry. He pressed his body closer to yours, never breaking eye contact with you, and your heart beat so fast you were afraid he’d be able to hear it through your chest. He was devastatingly handsome, looming over you, watching you with lustful eyes foreboding passion. It didn’t matter where you were. It didn’t matter if there were people outside—they were enjoying their own night, they didn’t have to be involved in what only concerned you and Crosshair. All that mattered was the sensation of his hands on your skin, your hands over his chest, and the heat beginning to boil low in your stomach.

You half-expected another snarky remark, another sneer coming from Crosshair just to test the waters, but you basked in the mercy of the satisfaction that came when Crosshair finally crashed his lips down on yours. He stepped towards you and you stepped backwards, stumbling into the bathroom for him to lock the door behind him when you were both already inside. The music continued to boom from the party outside, as did the cheers and the laughter from everyone blissfully ignorant of the fire catching between you and the marksman. You didn’t have to worry about being heard.

You blindly walked backwards with your fists tugging at Crosshair’s shirt, your mind swarming with the concept of him as he devoured your lips with luscious kisses and mischievous nibbles. You felt your back bump into the wall next to the sink, and he pressed you onto it, letting you feel the erection growing under his pitch-black boxer bathing suit. You whimpered at the hardness and let your hands travel up his chest and around his shoulders until the tips of your fingers found his silver hair, which you twirled and tugged hoping to get a sound from him. Crosshair pleased you by letting out a low grunt and grew more passionate with every tug you gave to his hair.

One of the hands that was on your neck traveled down to your waist and kneaded your flesh with his fingertips, freeing your neck for him to take his kisses down to that sensitive skin he so badly wanted to mark. You shuddered when you first felt Crosshair suck on your neck, and you were astounded at his ease to find your sweetest spot. He nibbled and sucked such that you were certain there would be a maroon mark on your skin, and you enjoyed every second of it. You were enjoying the idea of coming out of that bathroom with that mark on your neck for everyone to see, and something told you Crosshair would get a kick of it as well, parading you in front of everyone else to show them how it’s really done.

When he was finished with your neck, Crosshair moved down your body leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles whilst feeling every inch of your body he could, including your hardened nipples over the fabric of your swimsuit, until he was on his knees in front of you. His hands greedily squeezed the flesh of your buttcheeks as he focused his kisses on your lower abdomen, just above the line where your shawl and the bottom of your bathing suit began. Unwilling to wait much longer to finally taste you, Crosshair curled his fingers around your bathing panties and pulled them down your legs with ease. You stepped out of them for him to hand them to you for you to hold in one hand, and when your other hand went to undo your top, he was quick to stop you.

“No, doll,” Crosshair purred. “You’re keepin’ that on.”

You giggled at him in response, and by his actions, he didn’t intend for you to remove that shawl either. Part of you would have preferred for Crosshair to have already been shirtless at this point, but any sort of thought faded when Crosshair took one of your legs and wrapped it around his back—it was only until then you became aware that your aching cunt was finally exposed to him.

Crosshair split the fabric of your shawl and placed it over your hips to keep it out of the way; he held your butt with one hand to keep you steady while he used his index and thumb fingers on his other hand to lift the hood of your clit. Your mind barely had a second to ponder on the fact that he knew what he was doing, and when you felt his tongue begin to brush over the pearl of your clit, your whole world faded. A deep moan escaped you, and your head fell back to the wall as your chest heaved at every sensation Crosshair gifted you with. You slipped farther from sanity and nearer into bliss, feeling he’d tip you over the edge in an obscenely small amount of time.

Switching between luscious kissing and precise sucking, Crosshair turned you from confident temptress to whimpering mess, pleased at the idea of having you at his mercy. Your moans grew louder and more desperate, and your hand reached down to find his hair again, twirling and tugging at his beautiful silver locks. You drew a moan from Crosshair, and its vibrations resonated deep within your flesh, finally finishing you off. Your already helpless moaning turned into pleading mewls as the pleasure that focused on your clit exploded into beautiful flames invading every corner of your body. Your muscles tensed as you squirmed, knowing it was only Crosshair’s grip keeping you upright. You were oblivious to the amount of times you whimpered his name, you only had the headspace to rut your hips against him, as if you weren’t feeling enough mind-erasing pleasure already.

You wanted more. You wanted his fullness, his touch. You wanted him.

Crosshair emerged from between your legs as if he were coming up for air after a long swim. You were dazzled, panting in the aftermath of every wave of pleasure you’d just felt, but you managed to look down and see him smirking proudly. Crosshair grunted as he stood up, towering over you again, and just when you were beginning to make sense of the world around you again, you saw him pulling down his bathing shorts to reveal a long, hard erection waiting just for you.

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, making him chuckle with pride.

“Got room for some more?” Crosshair asked.

You nodded frantically, and without hesitation, Crosshair firmly grasped your ass and lifted you, resting part of your weight on the sink beside you. You clung to him, needily wrapping your legs around his waist, and he could only hum at the sight, pleased. After the painful wait, you finally felt Crosshair sliding himself into you, hissing at the initial stretch of your flesh only for you to moan when it became the most incredible sensation you’d ever experienced.

And Crosshair took it from there. Holding you firmly, he took care of every movement. Your arousal made it easier for him to slip in and out of you at whatever speed he desired, and you could tell he wasn’t planning on putting anything off. He was quick, accurate, decisive, grunting low and seductive into your ear with every few thrusts into your hips. Your nails clawed into his upper back, moaning deeply as you tightened your legs around him as much as you could, and it heightened the sensations you felt.

As he continued to fuck deep into you, Crosshair made eye contact with you for a moment, his cocky exterior suddenly becoming caring, even soft. The thought of your prior conversation entered your mind—how long had he felt that way for you? How long had you been suppressing your own desires for him?

Now that you were in his arms, feeling all the pleasure he could give you, you were certain you were where you needed to be.

A tender moan of his name escaped you just before you felt the pleasure expand through your body again. The moans induced by this second orgasm were far louder and embarrassingly more lustful than those of the first, and Crosshair thrust his hips faster into you as he fisted your hair and gave it a light tug. Your vision went white as you succumbed to the pleasure, to him, until you felt the heat of his release inside you followed by soft, low-pitched moans that sealed every one of your feelings for him.

Carefully, he set you down, and once he was sure that your feet were firm on the ground, Crosshair went limp in front of you. His arms were the only thing that remained strong as he caged you to the wall, panting to recover his breath in tandem with you. His lips were close to yours, and you couldn’t help but reach your hands up to cup his face and kiss him gently. Crosshair kissed you back without a hesitation, retrieving his hands from the wall to place them over your wrists, pressing you deeper to him.

“You never had to be jealous, Crosshair,” you whispered.

“Don’t blame me,” he panted, “for getting a little unhinged at the thought of someone else trying to satisfy you.”

“Hey, if this is the result, I’ll take it any day,” you winked. “I should have known a tease and a challenge was all it took.”

Crosshair smirked at you and let his hands travel down to your waist, straightening his back and lifting your feet up with him. “Wanna show off your hickey?”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Crosshair chuckled and pecked your lips, setting you down on the floor again and pulling up his bathing suit again. “Come.”

You put the bottom of your bathing suit on and followed him out of the refresher with your arm linked in his, ready for all the stares you were about to receive. Crosshair would definitely show them all, and you never would have fathomed the idea of parading a fresh hickey in front of a group of men who were flirting with you minutes earlier, but if that love hadn’t made you a bit crazy, you wouldn’t have been doing it right.

#tbbpromptevent #moonstrider writes #tbb x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair smut #tbb smut #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic

259 notes · View notes

motherroam-rs · 1 month

Text

(Not) Broken

NSFW - 18+

Warnings/Tags: Alcohol, Smut, Fingering, Praise Kink, Oral Sex (both male and female receiving)

Relationship: Tech x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a comment from Crosshair has you feeling insecure, Tech offers some assistance in showing you that you’re not broken.

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: big thank you to @shinigami101 for helping me with this as well as @darklightcannon and Sophia for proofreading 🫶

NSFW Below the cut

You tap your foot against the durasteel floor of the marauder, the walkway extended before you, almost pointing to the cause of your annoyance striding towards it. Crosshair wears a tipsy smirk as he stares up at you, beginning his walk of shame up the steps. From this angle you catch sight of lipstick marks trailing down his neck and disappearing beneath his blacks. So that’s where he’s been.

“You’re late.” Your head shakes disapprovingly, the lasting effects of all the free drinks at 79’s only made you more irritable. You and Crosshair did typically get along - just not when he decided to make you all late for a mission just so he could enjoy having some girl wrapped around him.

“What, jealous?” Crosshair’s taunting voice carries over Wrecker’s snores as you pass by the larger clone slumped over in his chair, he had fallen asleep about twenty minutes prior, when the alcohol at least still had you feeling giddy.

“No, I’m annoyed because now we’re running behind because you decided it would be a good idea to kriff around with a Civ!” You drop yourself into your seat, yanking down the bar to secure yourself, and Crosshair does the same next to you.

Tech, the only one who’s entirely sober, has already begun preparations for take off, eyeing the pair of you between his ritualistic preparations for the Marauders flight. Always the designated pilot, it allowed the rest of you to soak up the drinks at 79’s and sleep them off before you all have to serve your duty in the war. You were thankful of his reliability every time he caught you from stumbling around like a newborn deer, and would wrap his arm around you to guide you back to the safety of the ship on those nights.

“Maybe if it were you, you wouldn’t be so uptight.” His voice is humorous as he knocks his leg with your own, but you’re not in the mood to laugh with him.

“Kriff off, Crosshair.” You bite back before Hunter, despite being the most inebriated out of all of you, finds it in himself to pull out the sergeant card to get the two of you to stop bickering.

Crosshair was right though, you were jealous, but not in the way he thinks. Your mind flashes back to sweating bodies, discomfort, and ultimately - disappointment. Sure, you were still young, and given that you were following these soldiers into battlefields on any given day it didn’t exactly give you the opportunity to meet any men. Despite these factors, you were beginning to think there was something wrong with you.

Not a moment longer past the time you’re safely in hyperspace, you make an exit towards the bunks, not caring for any eyes that may be staring at your back before the door closes.

A soft knock echoes through the room and you take a deep breath as you hit the control panel, ready to tell Crosshair to go wash away the heavy smell of cheap perfume that now lingered in the cockpit, but the door opens to reveal someone else.

“It is just me.” He steps inside and you move back to the bunk, flopping down onto your back with as much grace as a bird shot from the sky. He closes the door behind him and takes a seat on his bunk, directly across from your own.

“Where are the others?” You’re surprised none of them have rushed in yet to claim their bunks for the night.

“They are already asleep,” Tech informs you, fiddling with his gloves in the absence of the data pad usually present in his hands. “You are upset.”

“Yes.” You confirm with a huff.

“Because of Crosshair's comment on your lack of sexual activity?” Credits to him, he had it right. Any of the others would have guessed it was just the delay the sniper had caused you, but not Tech. Despite his aversion to most people, he did understand you, and you liked to think you did in return.

“Why are you here, Tech?” You roll onto your front and groan into your pillow, which of course being GAR issued, barely muffles the noise.

“Why are you upset?” Tech sounds genuinely confused at your misery.

“Because it’s embarrassing?” You half laugh at his question.

“Because you have not engaged in intimate activities since-“ You cut him off before he can make you feel any worse about the night in question, how he had bumped into a man who never even got the opportunity to get out of his own pants. You remember how Tech had actually blushed, and was unable to make eye contact with you the whole next rotation.

“Because I can’t,” The words are spilling out to your friend before you can stop them, the alcohol in your brain only making them slip out easier. “I’m broken, Tech.” You pull yourself up to sit on the edge of the bunk to mirror him, the room spinning as you do so.

“I..” Tech pauses, his eyes momentarily flicking downwards to your thighs as he adjusts his goggles. “I am afraid I do not understand what you mean.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” You let yourself fall back onto the bunk once more, “I just can’t… finish.”

“Ah, you cannot achieve an orgasm.” The realisation in Tech’s voice makes your face burn.

“Oh maker.” You rip the pillow out from under your head and instead pull it over your face, as if you were a child hiding from an imaginary monster. But instead you’re just wishing the void of space would swallow you whole and save you from this conversation with Tech.

“It is nothing to be embarrassed about, would you say it is because your previous sexual partners were unsatisfactory or do you believe you are experiencing physical-“ He begins to reel off questions, each one making your face burn hotter.

This was not a conversation you wanted to be having with anyone on the team, let alone Tech, who would now just look at you as a broken part to a ship begging to be fixed.

“Tech!” You cut him off. “Just, leave, please?” You plead into the pillow, hoping he’s understood you.

You can’t see him, but you hear the soft creak of the bunk, and footsteps leading towards a door which opens with a soft whoosh.

He pauses, “I thought you wanted my help.” He lingers for a moment, until he’s sure you won’t respond, before leaving you once more.

Following the next mission, once you and Crosshair begrudgingly made up over Caf and teasing Hunter for being a lightweight before the batch and yourself as their medic head into battle, the Marauder is silent. For once, there is no bickering between the brothers, all of them having left to enjoy some local festivities on the planet you were stationed on for this evening. The only noise echoing throughout the bunks is the faint buzz of a vibrator and your shallow breaths.

You had it perfect, you’d showered, read a book to clear your mind, and even had a small glass of corellian whiskey to yourself. You’d received the bottle as a thank you for aiding an injured civilian and meant to save it for a special occasion, but something inside you said now was as good a time as any, especially considering the odd blaster bolt that came too close for comfort over the last few rotations.

All of the effort seems to be for nothing as you twist your free hand in the sheet, not in pleasure, but at irritation of your struggle for release. The other hand circles the edge of the vibrator over your clit, occasionally dipping down in an attempt to push it inside of you, but you’re not nearly relaxed or wet enough.

You’re so caught up in your frustration that you don’t hear the knock on the door, and the only warning you get to cover yourself comes from the light flooding into the room from the cockpit.

You jump upright, clutching the thin blanket to your bare chest and rip the vibrator away from between your legs.

“Oh,” Tech stammers from the doorway, still armoured and only lacking his helmet and gloves, his face flushed red. “I believe I have interrupted you.” Seemingly unsure of what to do, he slams his hand to the control panel, locking you both in the warm room.

“Yes.” You gulp, heart racing in your chest, fumbling to turn off the vibrator while it continues to buzz, as if it were laughing at you for your inability to cum.

“Any luck?”

Is he seriously asking you if you came?

“Tech.” You give a light warning, finally managing to switch off the device.

He gives you a questioning look, and you groan, sliding down against the mattress in defeat “No.”

Maybe it was the built up tension in you, or the fact you had a few drinks prior to your attempts but suddenly the confession works its way out of your throat.

“It’s just so frustrating, no matter what I do it’s not enough!” Tears threaten to fall and you scrunch your eyes closed.

“As I said before, I could help if you let me.” His voice is soft, level.

“How?” Your eyes open with an empty laugh and you find yourself staring at him, “Sorry, but I don’t exactly think the basic med training covers women’s intimacy issues, I know mine didn’t.”

“Perhaps I can find out the cause of your issue, if you will allow me to look.” He suggests, kneeling next to the bunk, his tone as casual as if he were discussing an issue with the Marauder.

“You want to watch me?” The words sound even more ridiculous aloud. Tech was your closest friend on the team, surely this would be crossing every line possible.

Tech looks at you with soft eyes full of reassurance, as if reading your thoughts, “I promise that nothing will change between us.”

His gaze is fixed on yours and something in his eyes makes the protest die on your tongue, his hand covers your own that is gripping the blanket to your chest. It feels warm and comforting, and your heart slows at the contact. His other hand presses on top of your knee that peeks out of the blanket, and you can’t recall a time he’s ever touched you with such purpose.

You pause for a moment, suppressing a shiver at the way his thumb brushes comforting circles on your knee, and take the opportunity to look into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. Finding none, with the help of the whiskey you exhale your concerns, ripping off the proverbial bacta patch as you allow him to pull the blanket away from your bare body.

When you close your eyes in a mixture of arousal and embarrassment at Tech seeing you this way, you miss the way that his own widen in slight surprise and adoration, before darkening with lust.

He gives an encouraging nod as he applies light pressure to the inside of your knees, guiding them apart. If he feels any of the embarrassment that you do now, he certainly doesn’t show it with his gaze fixed between your legs.

“To begin, I would like for you to attempt to make yourself orgasm.” Your eyes snap open again, stomach tensing at his request. “Breathe, dear, it’s just us.”He quickly calms you, continuing to brush his thumb on your knee, and seats himself at the end of your bunk.

It’s just Tech, you’re friends, it’s not weird, he’s here to help you. You remind yourself, drawing a breath at his expectant eyes before trailing a hand down your body, which is entirely bare despite the fact that Tech remains near fully armoured. You think you hallucinate the small gasp from the end of the bunk when your fingers reach their destination, dragging slow circles on your clit.

“Would you like me to record this? I know that I typically record everything without asking but I need your consent in this situation.” His offer is uncharacteristically fast for the man who is used to keeping a level head in the middle of battle.

You bite your lip, your head already nodding before your brain can formulate an answer, and your cheeks flush at how the knowledge of Tech recording you makes your stomach tighten and wetness coat your fingers.

You withdraw your hand from between your legs, waiting as he presses the button on the side of his goggles and a small red light assures you it’s recording. “Continue what you were doing before.” He instead presses the vibrator to your open hand, turning the device on.

“Remember what I just told you, dear, breathe.” Tech reassures you once again when your breath begins to quicken. He keeps one hand on your knee as the other guides your own to position the vibrator on your clit, and you suck in a sharp breath at the contact, suppressing the moan begging to be heard.

“It is just us here, you do not have to silence yourself.” Tech's voice is hushed, but still floods your ears. The sound of it only makes you tighten around nothing.

You try to tell him that you can’t, that it’s bad enough that you’re in this situation, but that he’s helping you with it. Tech, your teammate, your friend. But, you’re not given much choice when he guides your own hand to add pressure with the vibrator, “Tech!”

You swear you hear his breath hitch at the unrestrained cry, or perhaps it’s your own.

“Very good.” He withdraws his hand.

Has his voice always sounded that tense?

You continue your movements, allowing your head to fall back on the thin pillow which seems to be the only thing grounding you to the real world at this moment. You let out a small moan when the bunk creaks and a bare hand presses to your inner thigh, forcing one of your legs into a position that will allow him a better view.

“It seems you are approaching an orgasm.” He encourages, leaning forward in quiet awe. You don’t respond, you already know what’s coming, just as you’re steps away from the precipice, the fire diminishes, leaving your body flushed and unsatisfied.

“That’s what I mean, Tech.” Your eyes finally settle on him between your legs, and despite your failed attempt to cum, you involuntarily tighten. You switch off the vibrator, discarding it on the bunk, but Tech raises his hand to catch your wrist before you can pull the covers over your naked form.

“Fascinating,” You’re about to kick him away at that, until his next statement renders your body useless. “May I try?” Techs hand guiding your own was one thing, but for him to use his own on you has your heart going faster than a pod race. You don’t know what’s possessed you, but your body responds before your mind has made its decision and you’re giving him a small nod.

He waits a moment, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation, before he’s leaning back to take his position between your legs, which had closed again on instinct.

“Please, relax for me.” He gently pulls apart your thighs, his fingers immediately moving upwards, lightly grazing over the soft skin.

“You appear to be wet enough, no issue there.” His thumb smears the fluid up your slit to your clit, opening you up in one motion and you gasp. Your hands find purchase in your bedsheets, and it takes every bit of control in you to not chase after his hand with your hips.

“No lessened sensation either, good.” He mumbled to himself but you can barely hear him over your own heartbeat as he moves to drag slow circles around your clit with his thumb, earning him another moan from you. At the noise, you catch Tech briefly adjusting his codpiece, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“Tech?” Even in battle you’ve never been so breathless, and he gives a strained hum of acknowledgment, his middle finger dipping back down to circle your entrance.

“You can take it off if it’s - ah!” The words are stolen when his finger sinks into you effortlessly, and your hand grips the metal edge of the bunk while your brain scrambles to find the end of the sentence. “If you’re uncomfortable.”

He doesn’t respond verbally, but the soft click of his codpiece being released signals that he’s heard you, and he presses his hips back to the mattress. Once certain you have adjusted, he adds another finger, working them inside you with a scissoring motion that has you chanting his name in a breathless prayer.

You become increasingly aware of how he’s grinding himself into the mattress with every strangled moan and whimper he can pull from you, slipping from his usual control.

You can barely begin to form words at this point beyond his name, your senses instantly zeroing in on the harsh warm breath fanning across your exposed cunt as his fingers withdraw from you. You barely get a moment to glance at his head between your thighs before his lips press to your clit, tongue darting out to taste you.

“Is this okay?” Tech’s voice is rough, nearing Crosshair levels of hoarse.

“Maker, yes Tech.” You practically sob, and just as your mouth utters his name, he’s diving in, tongue exploring you like a man starved. At the intensity of the sensation, your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he’s fast to hitch one of your legs over his shoulder while pinning the other one down to keep you open for him.

A thin layer of sweat forms on your skin as your hands tightly grip the sheets at his attention to your cunt. First, he’s zeroing in on your clit, licking and sucking in a way that almost has you in tears, before he moves down to dip inside you, tasting you, and then repeats the process.

The orgasm is approaching fast like a wave threatening to break at shore, but then the tide begins to recede. Tech seems to sense this, pulling back and releasing your clit with a wet noise that seems to echo through the empty room.

”Look at me, Mesh’la.” Tech demands and you meet his burning gaze. Through the flames in his goggle framed eyes, you find encouragement. He wants you to watch him. Once he’s sure you’re focused on him, he returns his mouth to your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth whilst delving two fingers inside.

You don’t know what possesses you to make the offer, whether it be the haze of pleasure in your mind, or the way his hips continue to rut into the mattress, but it spills from your lips without any filter “Tech, I can help you too- Kriff!” He sucks particularly hard at this before releasing you so he can listen to your offer, “But I’m not sure how to take care of us both at once, or if you want to…” you gesture down to his erection straining against his blacks, “Help your own situation?”.

You practically see the cogs whir in his mind, and he sits up, beginning to rid himself of his armour. “Stand up.” He orders, and despite the way your legs shake, you obey the order, gripping the upper bunk for support.

You stare at Tech, slightly confused, and a small smile graces his lips, still coated with evidence of your arousal. He’s bare from the waist up, and his hands now make steady work of removing his lower blacks in one swift motion. Your attention is caught by the sight of his cock standing proud against his tanned abdomen. You knew biologically there is some correlation between height and the size, and with Tech being tall that he would be above average, but your lips fall open at the length. You still weren’t sure what he had in mind, but you’re suddenly unsure you can handle it.

“Do not be intimidated, Cyar’ika, I will help you.” One hand reaches to your jaw, brushing a thumb along it almost lovingly while the other settles on your hips, pulling you down onto the bunk with him. Both hands are now slipping below your thighs, pulling you into a position so that you’re straddling his chest, facing towards the foot of the bunk, facing his cock.

So this is what his solution is.

“Move closer.” Tech’s grip on your hips is as firm as his voice when he tugs you up to his mouth, hot breath fanning across your cunt in another soft warning before his tongue runs over your slit in one strong motion.

Tech seems to be paying attention to the way your legs shake from the effort of holding yourself up, because one of his hands extends to your upper back, pushing you into a position where your breasts press to his stomach. At this new angle, you’re fully seated on his face, and you’re able to wrap a curious hand around his girth to give his cock an experimental tug. The moan that reverberates against your cunt has you sending a thank you to the maker that Hunter wasn’t nearby to overhear the methods his brother was using on you to assist with your predicament.

Tech’s cock is now inches from your lips and you marvel at it momentarily before allowing your tongue to run over the head, beginning to move your hand to at least grant him some relief. He jolts, groaning, and you pull back.

“Are you okay - am I hurting you?” In your limited experience with this, you’d never had any complaints, but now you worry that your partners just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“No!” He protests immediately, as if you were asking him if he’d like to be executed, “You’re not hurting me, please continue.”

At his insistence, your tongue licks another wet circle over the weeping head of Tech’s cock, and his thighs tense at the effort not to thrust into your mouth. You appreciate the sign of restraint from him and you tighten your hand around the base of his cock, finally taking him into your mouth. The taste and smell of him intoxicate you, igniting memories of every time you’ve stood just an inch too close to each other to the point you could practically inhale his calming presence.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought this before, being here, with him. Suppressed thoughts rise to your mind and you close your eyes to bask in the moment with him, like it’s a dream that will be ripped from you.

Due to his impressive length, your lips are barely touching your fingers by the time he hits your throat and you release a drawn out moan, muffled by his cock. He sucks your clit into his mouth at this action, bringing tears to your eyes from the overwhelming stimulation.

You feel him draw his hips back, sliding out of your mouth and allowing you to take a breath before giving a short thrust in to stop at the back of your throat, which causes drool to begin leaking down his exposed cock and on your fingers.

Soon enough, the pair of you are a sight that would make a brothel patron blush. Tech continues his measured thrusts into your mouth and you take it with a moan when he begins to work you on his fingers once more. You can feel yourself practically dripping down his chin, and your stomach begins to tense - until the expected disappointment. Just as you begin to approach that high, it seems to pull further and further away from you once more.

Not again.

Tech seems to have read your mind and agreed with a strained “No,” as he pulls away from your cunt, but the room still echoes with the wet sound of his fingers scissoring into your heat.

“I need your full focus, I will not fail you at this Mesh’la.” He lifts you off his face and you release his throbbing cock from your lips. His grip is firmer than before, likely from the mounting frustration at his incomplete task, as he pulls you to face him. In this new position, you’re straddling him and you can feel the press of his cock to your inner thigh.

“Do you trust me?” There’s determination in his eyes, as if you’re a piece of the Marauder that he needs to fix.

“Always, Tech.” His eyes soften momentarily at this, but he reminds himself of the task at hand and with a speed you’ve only seen him use in battle, he’s flipped you both so you’re pinned underneath him once more.

Now that he’s above you, his length seems even more daunting and your hand grips his shoulder when you feel the head of his cock press to your entrance. Your whole body seems to tense, and you can’t help but dig your nails to his shoulder, which brings his eyes to yours.

“Shh, Mesh’la, that’s it, relax.” Tech’s voice is gentle but authoritative as he instructs you, pressing a kiss to your jaw. Even with his thorough preparation of your body, the stretch as he enters you is overwhelming, and yet, it’s better than anything you’ve ever felt. You had been preparing for the usual pain and discomfort, but this was on the opposite end of the scale.

“Breathe for me Cyar’ika,” he presses another kiss just below your ear and his voice sounds almost strangled. “That’s it, good girl.” He pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back into yours, delving deeper into you.

“Just a little more, I promise, you can take it, you’re-“ a low groan sounds in his throat and you feel his lips ghost against the edge of your ear. “Taking me so kriffing well already.”

Is this the first time you’ve ever heard Tech swear?

He’s entirely inside you and the fullness is now euphoric. Tan skin is coated with a sheen of sweat that makes him look almost angelic, his lips and cheeks flushed from the effort of holding back from pushing you too far when he begins to rock his hips into yours.

A string of Mando’a curses tumble from his mouth as he falls into a rhythm of slow thrusts, keeping the pace your body needs to chase its high that hasn’t quite worn off from all the previous work his mouth set you up for. The precipice is no longer escaping you, he’s keeping you there, dangling you over the edge of it whilst simultaneously grounding you to him.

The room echoes with every gasp, thrust, and moan. It’s some kind of erotic orchestra conducted by Tech to encourage you along, and it’s working. One of his hands tangles in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he can press wet, open mouthed kisses against your pulse point.

Every action that Tech’s making, no matter how small, has you more intoxicated than any drug in existence, and your legs tighten impossibly around his hips in an attempt to keep him close to you. To help you let go.

“It’s okay, you can let go for me, Cyar’ika.” Tech’s reassuring words speaking your own thoughts are all you need to push you over the edge. You’re gasping into his shoulder, and you can’t help but bite into the soft skin with a desperate plea of his name. He shudders at this, slamming into you with now uneven thrusts as he buries his face in your neck.

“That’s it, I’ve got you.” Tech is coherent enough to be guiding you through your own release, despite being overcome with his own. His lust laced voice is all you can hear over the overload of your senses, a sharp whisper in your ear to guide you through this new world of pleasure where you tighten around his cock like you’re trying to keep him deep inside you.

It’s a blissful moment, with Tech entirely spent between your legs, tears rolling down your face and his name still in your mouth. It’s a moment that’s over too soon when he withdraws from you, and you can’t help but moan at the release of fluid between your thighs. Your friend's cum is leaking out of you, only momentarily, because he’s already grabbed his blacks from the end of the bunk to press between your thighs, cleaning the mess from your legs.

“I’ll wash them.” He assures you.

Once satisfied that you’re both taken care of, he lays next to you on the defiled bunk, pulling your half limp body against his. You never thought that Tech would be the kind for intimacy after sex, and yet you can hear his steady heartbeat against your cheek. You’re honoured, almost, for him to hold you like this when he found discomfort in most physical contact.

“I told you that you were not broken, Cyare, I am always correct.” He presses his lips to your forehead, and despite how he’s just brought you to the very brink of what your body could handle, your chest tightens.

Were you broken? No, he’d proven that much. Were you kriffed because of how your heart seems to skip a beat at the small moment of tenderness with your friends lips against your hairline? Yes, you were.

#tech x fem!reader #tech x reader #tech smut #praise k!nk #the bad batch #bad batch fanfiction #bad batch smut

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jarenka · 8 months

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Remember this plot bunny? I was thinking about it again and I was like: Nah, Anakin wouldn't be able win against Palpatine to get him arrested. But he can kill Palpatine! So I wrote a fic where Anakin time-travels in the middle of Clone Wars, immediately kills the Chancellor and now Jedi Order need to do something about it because they can't just say: "Sorry, but Anakin Skywalker just returned here from the dark future and killed Palpatine because he was an evil genocidal wizard who planned to take over the Republic. Thank you for your attention."

“How did you find out that Chancellor Palpatine was directly connected with the separatists?”

“He told me himself”.

“Why would he tell you this? Don't you think this is a bit strange behavior for a person who allegedly has been cooperating with the separatists in deep secrecy for many years?”

“We are…” Anakin sighed. It was a touchy question. "Chancellor Palpatine and I were close friends. He proposed... to join him. He miscalculated”.

It isn’t entirelly true. Palpatine hasn’t yet invited Anakin to join him. He bent over his "dear friend", who fainted in his apartment when they had lunch together.

“Anakin, what's going on?.. I need to call a doctor,” Palpatine’s voice came to him distorted. Anakin was dead. He didn't know where he was or why he was hearing a real voice. He didn't know why he felt someone else's hand on top of his own. His lightsaber landed in his palm, and Anakin directed it to the place where the voice was coming from without hesitation. There was a smell of burnt wool and burnt flesh. Something heavy fell on him. When Anakin finally regained full consciousness, Chancellor Palpatine was lying there, completely dead, with a hole from a lightsaber in his chest.

“Why did Chancellor Palpatine invite you to join him?”

Anakin shrugged.

“I don't know.”

“Can you make a guess?”

“Perhaps he was dissatisfied with Dooku.”

Catch Dooku and ask, Anakin wanted to say, but for the past month Obi-Wan and lawyer Laila Hetty have been training him to answer questions correctly.

“So, you don't know for sure?”

“That's exactly what I have said.”

A military expert, a witness for the defense, will confirm that Dooku has failed several important operations in recent months. Perhaps Palpatine had a hand in his failures, but no one will ever know about it.

“What exactly did Chancellor Palpatine offer you?”

They set foot on very dangerous ground. Anakin needed to lie convincingly.

Anakin heard Obi-Wan's tired voice in his head, “You've been a Sith for over twenty years. You should be good at lying!"

He uttered the phrase he had memorized with Obi-Wan: “He offered me a place as commander-in-chief of the Republican army if I help him to prolong the war as much as he needs.”

“How can you, as a Jedi, hold such a post?"

Anakin sighed.

“Chancellor Palpatine wanted to get rid of the Jedi.”

There were whispers in the hall. Anakin tried to ignore them.

“Why?”

“You'd better talk to the members of the Council about this.”

“Did Chancellor Palpatine just casually tell you that he wanted to destroy the Order?”

Anakin closed his eyes and opened them again. He had to remind himself that everyone around him could see his face.

“I myself confessed to him that the Council suspected him of having ties with the separatists and was going to... take action.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Adi Gallia will speak on behalf of the Council. They will both say that some members of the council have long suspected that a very high-ranking official works with separatists, and some of them have already begun to suspect Palpatine. Obi-Wan won't be able to remember exactly if he and Anakin talked about it, but it's quite likely — after all, they were very close and discussed a lot of different things among themselves. Another witness for the defense will be an inhibitor chip specialist who will demonstrate that among the orders of the clone army there is an order to destroy the Jedi. He will indicate that this order was sewn in initially, during clone army creation. It’s not that important to Anakin’s case, both officials and independent investigators are now looking into clones’ creation.

“So, Master Skywalker, let's talk about why Chancellor Palpatine decided that you would agree to his proposal.”

I have no idea, Anakin wanted to reply.

“Remember,” he heard Obi-Wan say, “you need to present a convincing story to the jury. You killed Palpatine, it's quite obvious, but you can be acquitted.”

Anakin looked at the jury once again. They were ordinary inhabitants of Coruscant of different ages and races. Who do they see in front of them? The former posterboy of the Republic, pale and disheveled, with dark circles under his eyes. In the morning before the hearing Ahsoka tried to help him clean up, but she had no idea what to do with human hair. Maybe it's even better this way. The jury will think he's suffering terribly after he murdered Palpatine.

“Chancellor Palpatine,” Anakin began, “had already talked about me leaving the Order. He... he knew about my disagreements with the Council and was ready to help me settle on my own on Coruscant.”

“Were your disagreements with the Council that serious?”

“Perhaps I... exaggerated a little in my conversations with the Chancellor, and he thought that my conflict with the Council was much more serious than it really was.”

Anakin in fact remembered that the Council couldn't stand him, and everyone there didn't like him, except Obi-Wan. He thought they would hate him even more when they found out about everything he had done. Anakin was no longer one of them, he had been a Sith longer than he had been a Jedi, right before his death he turned away from the Dark Side but committed numerous crimes before it. And yet the Order came to his defense. It would be much more convenient for them to leave Anakin at the mercy of Republican justice. He would have received a life sentence for the murder of the chancellor and spent the rest of his life in prison. Anakin was ready for such a fate. It was still better than becoming a Sith, and better than losing Padme. She will stay alive, and maybe even visit him in prison.

Instead, the Council insisted on keeping Anakin in the Temple instead of handing him over to the Coruscant detention center. Master Windu came to him and said: “Anakin, you will be judged by a jury, but I'm afraid they won’t like a time-travel story.”

“I know,” Anakin replied. “You didn't have to come here to tell me about it.”

It seemed to him then that Master Windu wanted to gloat. This was a stupid thing to think.

“During the investigation, they will most likely find some evidence that the chancellor passed information to the separatists. And if you prepare well for the trial, you may be acquitted. We will help you.”

“Why would you help me? I'm not a Jedi anymore.”

“That's not true. You're still a Jedi knight, you have a Padawan, and you killed a Sith who planned to seize power in the Republic and destroy the Order. It's the least we can do for you."

Anakin chuckled.

“The least”? And then what counts as “the most"?”

“We won’t talk about it, it’s illegal”.

Mace Windu smiled with the corner of his mouth.

“I know a very good lawyer,” he said. “She and Master Kenobi will help you prepare for the interrogations.”

After that Mace Windu came to him more than once, asked about the Sith, brought datachips with holodramas and recordings of theatrical plays. Obi-Wan brought him records of pod races and his favorite books. Anakin's cell was spacious enough to train, and he had long been used to doing it alone. It turned out that even the prison in the Temple was a much cozier place than his castle on Mustafar or his personal quarters abroad of the “Executor”.”

Adi Gallia came to ask him about Palpatine's ties with different shady groups. Anakin knew about them, although Palpatine didn’t reveal everything even to Darth Vader, his apprentice and right hand man.

“Are you going to conduct your own investigation?” he asked.

“I'm afraid the Order can't afford to investigate. But we can tell someone where exactly they need to dig.”

Anakin was sure that she was talking about official investigators with unnecessary secrecy, and had no good feelings about it. Most likely they, too, were corrupted by Palpatine and would not investigate his machinations too actively, if they didn’t want to accidentally investigate themselves.

A month and a half later, Obi-Wan brought him a datachip and with a large joint investigation of The Evening News and The Point that Chancellor Palpatine was transferring money to several criminal organizations through shady firms under the jurisdiction of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Journalists were able to trace some money to bounty hunters who carried out the chancellor's orders.

“Six months ago,” Obi-Wan said, “someone killed two The Point journalists who were investigating the creation of a clone army.”

“Has anyone reacted to this article?”

“Oh, it caused a full scale outrage. Our media was scaring us with separatists and bounty hunters for years and now it turns out that the Chancellor of the Republic is tied to both of them.”

“It won't hurt the Chancellor in any way. He's dead.”

“But it means that the Chancellor has committed treason, and you... hmm, maybe you didn't act very wisely, because the Chancellor should be convicted by the court, but at the end of the day your actions were justifiable.”

“He's a Sith, he couldn't have been arrested. He would have had time to give the order to destroy the Jedi. And besides, he could bribe investigators and judges.”

“We know that. But for an ordinary citizen of the Republic, you broke the law and killed the Chancellor instead of initiating an investigation. You need to show that you had no other choice, and you acted in the interests of the Republic.”

“So, the last question. Let's go back to why you killed Chancellor Palpatine instead of reporting him to the authorities?”

This last question was perhaps the most difficult. He couldn't answer it directly. Anakin had many reasons to kill Palpatine, but nobody would believe a time-travel story. Jedi agreed not to touch on this topic at the trial.

It's good that Obi-Wan came up with a plausible explanation for me, he thought. During the time they were preparing for the trial, Anakin even managed to convince himself that Obi-Wan has a point.

“At first I planned to do so. The Chancellor committed high treason, he should have been arrested,” he replied. “But I've known Chancellor Palpatine for a long time. He is… he was a very careful person, and he always had a backup plan. As you said, he wouldn’t just confess his crimes to me, a Jedi General," Anakin thought that here he might be suspected of insincerity. He was speaking in Obi-Wan's words, not his own. — “And then I realized that the Chancellor would not let me live if I refused to join him. Probably he planned to poison me, but I didn't think about it back then. I just realized that I would not have the opportunity to inform someone about his crimes. General Skywalker would accidentally die of natural causes, and Chancellor Palpatine would continue to act on his plans.”

To his surprise, one of the policemen later confirmed that they found a container full of lycaea extract in the Chancellor's apartment. It was a rare poison from Outer Rim that couldn’t be detected with standard tests, and the consequences of poisoning looked like a heart attack. “How did you guess he would have the poison?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan later. “If I were him, I would keep something like this in case of an emergency. Being a Sith he could kill a person with his lightsaber or strangle them with the Force, but such a death wouldn’t look natural. "Natural" deaths occur mainly from poison.”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #jedi order

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padawanlost · 3 months

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"Then what is my flaw?" Obi-Wan asked.

There came a silence so long that Obi-Wan wondered if Qui-Gon had fallen asleep. Then his voice rose out of the darkness, soft and deep. "You will be a great Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know that with every breath, with every beat of my heart. You will make me proud I was there at your beginnings. If you do have a flaw, perhaps it is simply this: You wish to please me too much."

Obi-Wan had never understood the meaning of Qui-Gon's words. He had meant to ask him after the mission was over. He had puzzled over the words, forgotten them, remembered them again, pushed them away only to have them reappear in his mind. And now, they haunted him.

The Clone Wars had begun. The galaxy had fractured and the Republic was threatening to split apart. They had discovered that the former Jedi, Count Dooku, was leading the Separatists. Many Jedi had lost their lives on Geonosis six months earlier. The tragedy of that battle infused the Temple, made every Jedi walk with a heavy step. Their vision had been clouded for so long. They realized this, yet their vision did not clear.

It was as though a dark curtain was draped over the Temple. And something had changed within Anakin Skywalker.

Something that made Obi-Wan uneasy. And now a worry had been pushed to the forefront of his mind — had his love for Qui-Gon blinded him to the faults in Anakin for too long?

The uneasiness he felt about Anakin, the sense of dull dread that had the power to wake him up from a deep sleep, now had a partner: the conviction that it was too late to do anything about it.

His Master could not have foreseen all that had taken place. Yet he had placed a sure finger on the spot that was most vulnerable in Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan had opened his heart to Anakin because of Qui-Gon's belief that Anakin was the chosen one. Had he tried too hard? Had he overlooked what he should not have overlooked?

Love had never blinded Qui-Gon. But it has blinded me.

[Jude Watson. Legacy of the Jedi]

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #qui gon jinn #sw books #sw quotes #jude watson #mine

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phantom-of-the-501st · 10 days

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The Evolution of an Echo

Okay well I wasn't planning on doing this now but I decided to strike while the iron is hot and have now started writing a full on character essay at *checks watch* 22:06

But despite his limited screen time, I really love how Echo has been portrayed this season and I really want to have a look at his character evolution over the course of The Bad Batch and how he compares now to who we were first introduced to in The Clone Wars.

Steph waffle about Echo coming up down below! 🧇

@saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings

So I feel like the main thing we see with Echo is that he generally has more confidence now than he did before. Don't get me wrong, he still had confidence in a combat situation and was not afraid to throw himself into the action if it meant he could help people (self-preservation who?), but he seems to have become more comfortable with being himself, like he's properly found his own identity.

And I think that that is interesting considering what Echo has gone through. Personality-wise (and looks-wise), he is very different to who he once was but he still feels like Echo. We haven't lost him, he's just become more aware of what makes Echo Echo. Because when he was first given the name, he hated it. He didn't like being called that because it stemmed from people teasing him about his habit of repeating orders. While there wasn't any true malicious intent (the Dominoes were his brothers after all), Echo ended up being the target of "bullying" during his early years in the GAR. He was a rule follower and believed that things had to be done by the book for a reason. But that resulted in him getting teased a lot and I don't think he ever truly built up the same level of confidence as some of his other batchmates. And for him, that name probably suggested that everything that made up his identity, everything that made him him, was that name and how it stemmed from his belief that rules were made to be followed. His identity was in some way intrinsically tied to his name.

However, over time we saw that he came to fully embrace the name ("is there and Echo in here?") and over the course of the last couple of seasons, have really begun to see Echo fully living up to his potential, no longer tying himself to the "rule-follower" identity that he had carried with him for so long. Because what happened to him on Skako Minor fundamentally changed who he was: not just physically, but personally as well. He had to navigate being a new person and that meant finding himself again, even if the person he found was not the one he was expecting. And remember that at this point, all of his batchmates are gone; the people who gave him the name that summed up his personality are gone. The Batch don't know the old Echo and in some ways that probably helped him find himself. There was no expectation from them for him to go back to who he was before because they don't know that side of him. It gave Echo the space to breath and I feel like in some ways there was less of a pressure for him to try and go back to who he was.

Now that's not to say that the old Echo isn't still there in some ways. When he first ran with the Batch, he didn't quite have the same level of chaos as them, didn't really have the same way of going about things. And that never fully went away. Look at the way he challenged Hunter in season 2: he didn't instantly fall into doing things that Batch's way, but still held onto his own beliefs. But that confrontation did show a build in confidence. Echo became much more confident in standing up for himself, for doing what he believed even if that wasn't how everyone else wanted to do it. And so much of that stems from what he went through. Echo has been through hell, and if he can prevent that from happening to other people, then he will, even if it means disagreeing with his brothers.

One thing that has stood out to me is how Echo has begun to accept that where he belongs isn't always in one spot. And I imagine that this was something that had never really occurred to him much until this point because he'd only ever really been in one place: with his batch. I mean, they spent rotation after rotation after rotation together on the Rishi Moon. Echo never really had to deal with change until his brothers died. Then he found the 501st and that's when Echo began to adapt to shifts. He was in new places, with new jobs, but he always had one constant: Fives. And yet, following his rescue, that constant was gone. The place that had once felt like home to Echo now didn't feel like that anymore because it wasn't what he remembered. It's why he went with the Batch.

And I think this change was crucial in building the Echo we see today. It was a point in which he learned that home didn't mean one place. And sometimes it didn't even mean the same people. Home is simply where one feels like they belong, and for Echo that isn't always the same spot. It's where he feels like he can truly be himself and for him that means being in a position where he can help people. Whether that be with the 501st, or the Batch, or the Rebellion, Echo has learned to find a place in wherever he feels he needs to be. And that's why he's become so confident: because he has found where he belongs and what truly makes Echo Echo.

So we can look at Echo now and see the change. But we can still see the old him there - the drive to do the right thing, the protectiveness he holds for those he cares about, and the incredibly stressful habit of always putting himself in harms way in order to get things done - but he's embraced it more than ever before. While his screen time has been short this season, what we've seen from Echo is the perfect demonstration of why he was made an ARC and why he has always been so amazing. He is an incredibly talented soldier and now that he's found his calling, he's flourishing. He's embracing the change and he's taking everything in his stride. He's a good leader, a competent soldier, an incredible tactician, and a genuinely nice person who cares about the wellbeing of the people around him. Echo has come out of his shell and truly flourished and it's amazing to see.

And his humour has come back as well! One of the things that was often pointed out was how Echo's jokey side had kind of faded while he was with the Batch and yet over the last season it's come out in full force. Echo finding his confidence has also made him snarkier and bitchier in the best way possible. He knows what he wants and he isn't going to put up with anyone's bs. And what I love even more is how much the Batch have embraced him. They trust him now more than ever; he's their brother and they respect his drive and support him, even if it isn't the path they wanted to take themselves.

Now Echo still has his struggles, he isn't perfect. He can still be overly blunt sometimes, and he still has his vulnerabilities ("I don't enjoy solitude") but they don't make him weak. In fact Echo is stronger than ever and embracing who he is even more. And we can see where his growth has been influenced by those around him; the soft side that has become stronger after caring for Omega and the complete and utter chaos stemming from Fives and the Batch for example.

And you know what, Echo is a fitting name. Not because he repeated orders, but because in everything he does, and everything he proves himself to be, you can see the echoes of his past, who he was, who he's known and who he grew to be.

#it's now 22:58 #and I should probably go to sleep #but I will always gush about echo #so enjoy the waffle #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #arc trooper echo #tbb echo #star wars

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bambamramfan · 1 month

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Parallels

I realized the second movie of the Star Wars Prequels and the 2021 Dune trilogy have isomorphic last lines (equivalent, mod the proper nouns and way the person speaks.)

"Begun, the Clone War has!"

"Our Holy War has begun."

And when you think about it, Episode 1 and Part 1 are pretty similar too. A young prodigy in spiritual magic is recruited to save a planet from corrupt mandarins that have seized power, but he is being manipulated by an ancient conspiracy descending millennia.

With this, I think we can predict similar parallels in a possible Dune part 3.

Paul's partner will bear twins, but she will die due to him and he will abandon the children.

Paul will be disfigured, and will abandon the role of messiah (for now.)

Billions will die off screen but the war itself will come to an end.

Ancient prophecies will set the galaxy on a new path.

A new empire will cement its control.

There will probably be enough room to launch 6 more movies following this trilogy.

#film analysis #dune #star wars prequels

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andi-o-geyser · 10 months

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Curious about this, so I’m conducting a little anthropological study:

#the race is on the games have begun #I know my thoughts on the matter but I’m curious to see the results #also if you have any specific thoughts or input please add it in the tags! I’m super curious #star wars #the clone wars #sw #tcw #clone wars #captain rex #clone trooper rex #the bad batch #tbb #bleached rex poll #Polls #andis thought geyser

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rinixo · 1 year

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pendulum

Tech/Reader | 5.2k | Rated E | afab reader, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced reader, sex pollen, oral sex, experienced Tech, Tech with dom tendencies, Tech is a tease, mention of illness, mention of needles

While scavenging a (mostly) abandoned science facility, you are dosed with a mysterious substance. Tech offers assistance.

read on ao3

You had yet to have a mission with (the former) Clone Force 99 that didn’t end up going sideways, and it was getting to the point you wondered if the galaxy had something out for you.

When you were first introduced to the team of ex-troopers on Ord Mantell you didn’t expect you’d be seeing much of them after that. You did the odd job for Cid now and again - being a war refugee wasn’t the most stable of lifestyles - and every time you showed up at least one of them was parked in the parlor. After a while, you had begun to join them on select jobs and had gotten to know them fairly well - especially since every one of the missions ended up with someone hurt, kidnapped, or, as in this case, dosed with an experimental drug.

“All clear,” a modulated voice confirmed from ahead of you. Rubbing your arm where the crazy scientist had managed to jab you, you joined Tech in the doorway of an empty storeroom. You and he had been separated from the rest of the crew and were currently wandering around the lower levels of the science facility you had been sent to salvage. The power was out from a large overload, trapping you in the dark labyrinth for the time being.

“Let’s rest here,” Tech decided, pulling off his helmet and setting it on a crate. “I’ll try to make contact with the Marauder.”

“All right.” You walked over to a crate opposite the one he was leaning against, hopping up on it with a grunt. Pulling down your sleeve, you tried to get a good look at where you had been jabbed with the syringe.

Cid had promised that the place was abandoned, which turned out to be extremely untrue. Some unhinged scientists had stuck around, and when you had stumbled on one in what was supposed to be an empty laboratory you had ended up in a scuffle. Thankfully Tech was right behind you and quickly neutralized your assailant, but not before a needle was slammed into the flesh of your upper arm.

It seemed to be ok, you decided. You’d probably end up with a bruise, but other than a dull throb there didn’t seem to be much damage.

“How is it?” Tech questioned, not looking up from his datapad. At first, you had freaked out, thinking you had been poisoned, but a calm analysis by your quick-witted companion had been able to confirm that whatever it was in the syringe wasn’t going to kill you. It was still unclear what exactly it was, but you had relaxed a bit knowing that you weren’t going to keel over, foaming at the mouth.

“It’s fine, I think,” you answered. “A little sore.”

“Mmm,” was his simple response. You didn’t mind - in fact, you had become quite fond of Tech’s particularly blunt way of addressing things. He didn’t mince words and got straight to the point, something you appreciated after years of dealing with pirates and scavengers and countless others who survived by deceiving others. It was a refreshing change of pace, working with someone whom you could trust.

“Any luck?” You inquired, tilting your head at the device in Tech’s hands. He sighed and set it off to the side.

“Unfortunately not,” he said. “Whatever EMP pulse it was that shook this place and got us separated from the others also fried my datapad, and I don’t have the necessary tools to repair it.”

You raised a brow. “Really? Nothing in all those pockets of yours?”

“No,” Tech pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not this time. An oversight on my end.”

Looking around, you rummaged through some of the crates and discovered a store of medical linens. Divvying them up, you settled against the crate with an exhausted sigh.

“Might as well bunker down then,” you said. “It’s been a long day.”

“Indeed,” Tech concurred.

—

Several boring hours later, the two of you sat side by side against a crate, finishing off some rations.

“So what do you think these guys were doing here?” You queried, wiping crumbs off your hands.

Tech cleared his throat, launching into a hypothesis. “From what info I was able to collect, it seemed they were working on biological warfare agents. Enhancing illicit substances, things like that. A lucrative business.”

You frowned. “I’m not going to get the plague, am I?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Tech affirmed. “The work being done here seemed to be more on the subtle side. Designed to impact smaller targets in specific ways.”

“Like what?” You were curious, and thankfully Tech liked to explain things as he expanded on his guesses.

“Mind-altering drugs that impair judgment, or create paranoia,” he listed. “Substances intended to embarrass or cause people to debase and humiliate themselves.”

“Sounds like you have firsthand experience.”

He glanced at you. “There was an interesting situation where were evacuating a senator from a separatist prison. She had been injected with a drug that caused her to exhibit fewer inhibitions when it came to soliciting others. It was quite the struggle to let her down, due to her impaired state of mind.”

“She propositioned you?” You asked incredulously.

“Yes. Rather forcefully,” Tech mused. “I had to restrain her, in the end.” He let out of huff of amusement at the memory. “I have never preferred my sexual partners to be those in positions of power, much to her disappointment. It creates an inherent power imbalance that I am not particularly interested in.”

You gaped, mouth open lamely. That was not the way you had expected that story to end. Tech had always come off as someone who would be uninterested in such frank expectations around sex.

“You look surprised,” Tech observed, and you sputtered.

“No, it’s just - I just thought that-“ you trailed off, realizing you were only digging yourself deeper into a hole of embarrassment.

“You thought that out of my brothers, I was the least likely to have experience with sexual intercourse,” Tech stated matter-of-factly. He had a way of saying things so casually in situations others would be uncomfortable in, and this seemed to be another one of those.

“I - yeah,” you admitted. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed something like that. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Shrugging, Tech looked back down at his dead datapad, fiddling with some wires.

“It is a logical conclusion,” he remarked. “I am aware that my attributes do not lead one to associate me with sexual situations.”

You frowned. Was he calling himself unattractive?

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” you countered. “I- you’re very handsome, Tech.” You flushed at your admission, wondering if you were overstepping.

He tilted his head towards you again, one brow raising in question. “I am a clone. We vary little in our appearances.”

“I’m serious,” you huffed, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Sure, clones are clones, but you and your brothers look quite a bit different from your average trooper. And not in a bad way.”

He held your gaze for a breath longer than necessary before returning it to the device in his lap. “Thank you,” he acknowledged, after a brief silence.

Thankful that your conversation had relaxed, you leaned against the crate and stared up at the ceiling, lit dimly by a flickering inset light.

A dull throb of discomfort made you wince. Pressure was starting to build behind your eyes, like a headache. “I think I’m going to try to sleep,” you decided, and went to the corner where you had set up a makeshift bed.

Tech just nodded and re-focused back on the datapad. Rolling onto your side, you closed your eyes and tried to will yourself asleep.

You woke a while later, what little sleep you had experienced restless and uncomfortable. Sweat made your thin shirt cling to your shoulders and chest, and your mouth was drier than Tatooine.

Looking around for your canteen, you hastily downed what water was left in it. It wasn’t enough, but it helped a bit. Your head hurt, your blood felt like it was on fire, and there was an ache between your legs that hadn’t been there a few hours ago.

“Ah. You’re awake,” Tech’s voice chirped from the doorway. He stepped inside and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “I was expecting you to still be out.”

“Can’t sleep,” you rasped. “I think whatever that scientist injected is starting to kick in.” You rubbed your eyes and glanced up at your companion.

“Hmm.” Stepping forward, Tech took your chin in hand and tilted your head to the side. “What kinds of symptoms are you experiencing?”

“I’m burning up,” you mumbled miserably. “My head hurts, and -“ you trailed off, feeling shy once again. You were not about to admit to Tech that you were starting to feel incredibly aroused.

“And?” Tech prodded.

“Nothing,” you deflected. “That’s all.”

Another brow raise, and you suspected he could tell you were not being honest. Thankfully, he didn’t push the subject, and let go of your chin before wandering back over to his own bedroll.

“I was able to make contact with the others. They had to flee, but will be back here in a few hours,” he said, sitting against the wall. “We can get you medical assistance and investigate the purpose of the drug once it does.”

You nodded, throat too dry to respond. Noticing you shaking your now empty canteen, Tech tossed you his. You downed it in one go, mumbling thanks.

“I’m gonna…try to get some more sleep,” you rasped. Though you doubted it would work, you figured trying to sleep until the rest of the crew arrived might alleviate some of the discomfort coursing through your body.

“Do not hesitate to tell me if your symptoms worsen,” Tech directed, and you sighed and laid back down.

The fire burning under your skin only increased as time went on. You curled up on your side, trying not to whimper or give in to the urge to stick your hands down your pants. Tech wandered in and out of the room, no doubt looking for something to keep his busy mind occupied. Part of you longed to call out to him, beg him to help you alleviate the ache of emptiness in your cunt, but you stilled your tongue and tried to tough it out.

Finally, after a particularly harsh pulse of need, you sat up and leaned against the crate. You pulled up the back of your shirt, pressing it against the cool metal in an attempt to find some comfort from your burning flesh, but it did little to help.

“You have gotten worse,” Tech chimed from across from you. He peered at you intensely, and you wondered how long he had been watching you. You noticed he had stripped out of his armor and was just in his underlayers. “I suspect you are in significant discomfort.”

“Yeah,” you conceded. “It’s making me feel-“ you trailed off, wondering how to explain it to him.

“Your body has increased in temperature and levels of sexual hormones,” Tech stated bluntly. You gaped at him, surprised he had figured it out. Had you been that obvious?

“How did you know?” You asked.

“When I ran a diagnostic when you were injected I got several hits related to amatory agents. It did not seem pertinent to mention at the time,” he explained. “I did not want to make you uncomfortable. Topics of a sexual nature are usually quite private for most.” “I think we’re past that,” you croaked.

“Agreed.” With a low grunt, he hopped off the crate he was sitting on.

“Perhaps I may assist,” Tech offered. He stood straighter, hands once again clasped behind his back.

You choked out a laugh. “What, put me out of my misery?”

You caught a glimpse of the faintest movement of his lips into a smirk at your jest before it disappeared. “In a way,” he mused.

“I do have limited knowledge of aphrodisiac and libido-enhancing stimulants. I suspect that is what you were injected with, based on your symptoms.” He pushed up his goggles, listing them off. “Increased rate of respiration, dilated pupils, sensitivity in erogenous zones-“

“Ok,” you cut him off, feeling even more flushed at his frank descriptions of your current predicament. “Aphrodisiac, I got it. How are you going to help?”

“I could stimulate you in an attempt to relieve the symptoms,” he continued. “In many cases, these kinds of toxins can be flushed out of the system more rapidly by engaging in amatory expression.”

You blinked up at him - on a good day Tech’s scholarly explanations sometimes flew over your head, but this was a whole new kind of confusion.

“I must be losing my mind,” you rambled. “Because it sounds like you’re offering to fuck this out of my system.“

“That is precisely what I am offering,” Tech confirmed. “In less technical phrasing.”

You chewed over your options. None of them were particularly favorable. You could either lay there in continued misery until the rest of the crew arrived, or sleep with Tech.

In a normal situation, the second option wouldn’t seem so daunting, but you had never slept with anyone before. You had fled your planet at a young age and since then had never been in a place where that kind of experience was feasible. Did you really want this to be your first time - in a dusty storeroom, with someone who was only doing it out of medical need?

A particularly painful pulse to your groin answered for you. Standing with a groan, you looked up at Tech who was patiently waiting for your answer. “I-we can try,” you decided.

Nodding, Tech stepped towards you. Your heart, already thrumming, increased in its tempo as his much taller form closed in. Your breath came out in rapid pulses as he leaned his head down towards yours, his eyes focused intently on your face.

You started to feel overwhelmed. “W-wait,” you pushed on his shoulders, stepping backward away from him. “Hold on, I-“ You wrapped your arms around your chest, creating a barrier.

Tech immediately drew away, tilting his head. “You are nervous,” he observed “Understandable. I will leave if you have changed your mind-“

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’ve just…I’ve never done anything like this before,” you confessed, staring intently at the ground.

A beat of silence. “Ah. You are a virgin,” Tech replied simply. “Surprising.”

You frowned, looking back up at him. “What?”

“You are a young woman with features many people consider attractive,” he elaborated. “It stands to reason that you would have had those who would have desired you sexually.”

Mind racing - did he just call you attractive? - you shook your head. “No. It just…never felt right. Comfortable,” you faltered.

Tech nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. “That is not unusual,” he affirmed. "Or unwise. Many people experience dissatisfaction stemming from unsuitable sexual partners.”

“I’m a little out of my element,” you muttered. “I don’t know what to do.”

There was a gleam of something unreadable in Tech’s gaze, and he leaned forward. You breathed out, eyes wide and body frozen. He hovered over you again, your back pressed up against the crate and neck craning to look up at him.

“That is quite all right,” he assured, taking your chin in his hand again. “I do.”

With that, he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, and exploratory, sending shivers up your spine. You shuddered against him, and he took that as an affirmation to press against you more firmly.

Relaxing your body, you allowed Tech to move closer, legs spreading to allow him to slot himself against your trembling form. Your hands came up to grasp at his firm biceps as he pulled away from your mouth. You panted, eyes fixed on his slightly swollen lips.

“I want you to tell me if you are uncomfortable at any point,” he instructed lowly. “Due to your enhanced state you may not feel the usual discomfort, but seeing as you have never done this before, there is still the chance you may-“

“Tech,” you pleaded, interrupting him. His touch had ignited something inside of you, and you pressed up against him. You knew that when this was over you would be grateful for his concern, but right now you just wanted him to kiss you again.

“Please,” you whispered, and you saw his throat bob as he swallowed roughly. You wondered how you looked in his eyes - flushed, aroused, body fervently pleading for his. Did he like it? Or was this just clinical for him? Your lust-addled mind wanted him to like it. You wanted him to like you.

Clearing his throat, Tech leaned back down. This time you met his mouth with your own, sighing at the way he licked your lips before his tongue slid over yours. He pulled back, and your whine at the loss turned into another sigh as he kissed from your jaw, down your arched neck to your collarbone. Grasping the hem of your shirt, he pulled it off your damp skin and let out the smallest of exhales at the sight of your bare chest.

“Brilliant,” he mumbled. With impressive strength, he grasped your hips and sat you up on the crate so that your chest was level with his head. Dipping his head down again, he placed more soft, open kisses on your skin. One of your hands went from his arm to his head as his clever tongue lathed over the peak of one breast - the sensation made you gasp, shocks of pleasure cascading down to your slick cunt.

“Sensitive,” Tech noted, voice husked as he moved from one peaked nipple to the other. “A result of the drug, perhaps?” His teeth pulled on your nipple, gentle yet firm, and you arched into it. “Or maybe you’re always like this.”

“D-don’t know,” you stuttered. “You’re the first one to d-do this…”

A pleased hum, and Tech looks up at you. “Fascinating,” he husked. You wondered if he liked that - being the first man to touch you, kiss you, see you bare in this way. It would certainly fit with his curious nature.

He trails his mouth down your body, lips ghosting over your soft flesh. He comes to the top of your leggings and leans back. Taking them in his hands, he begins to pull them down your thighs, your hips lifting to assist.

“Have you never experienced any kind of sexual contact, or just not penetrative sex?” He inquired, slipping your drenched panties down your legs as well.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. “Just…just myself.” You had explored your own body a few times, but a lack of experience and motivation had never brought you any kind of significant relief.

“Nothing,” he repeats, and pushes your shoulders gently so that you are laying back on top of the crate, your hips pulled to the edge. Tech kneels, and you prop yourself up nervously, realizing what he was intending to do.

“I- I think I’m pretty ready,” you squeak. “You don’t have to do that-“ You trail off as he flicks his eyes from the apex of your thighs to your face. He lifts his goggles off, placing them down neatly at your side.

“This is your first time,” Tech’s gaze is firm, determined. “I would be remiss if I did not give you the experience you deserve.” His hands come to spread your thighs, and even through the fog of your lust, you burn at the thought of him staring at your glistening folds. One of his hands moves from your thigh, and he runs two fingers over your cunt, pressing at the swollen, sensitive flesh. You let out a moan as he repeats the motion, applying pressure on your clit with his knuckles.

He settles his face between your legs comfortably, pulling one of your legs to the side and lifting the other to rest on his shoulder. With one last glance at your smoldering expression, he dips down and lathes his tongue from your leaking hole up over your clit.

You gasp, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. Every new sensation up to this point had been more pleasurable than the last, but this? The feeling of Tech’s tongue licking your cunt purposefully was nearly indescribable. It was more than just the physical sensation; it was also the visual of this man kneeling before you with his head between your thighs. Something about Tech had always seemed so untouchable, unattainable, yet here he was, mouthing against your cunt on a dusty floor.

“No need to silence yourself,” Tech chides, a frown on his brow. “There is no one around to overhear, and I would like verbal confirmation of your pleasure.”

“O-okay,” you breathe shakily, moving your hand from your mouth. Satisfied, Tech returns to his work dutifully.

You oblige his request with soft panting and gasps, and let your fingers run tentatively over his scalp. He hums in affirmation against you, making you twitch from the subtle vibration.

He focuses on your clit as something bright begins to spark inside of you. You know what an orgasm is - theoretically - and lay your head back down as Tech draws you closer. He alternates between kitten licks and sucking, and a tremble starts in your lower body. As it builds so does your anticipation. It’s almost overwhelming, and Tech notices you fighting it.

“Let it happen,” he soothes. “I’ve got you. You’ll feel better once you come.” More attention to your pulsing clit, and your leg begins to shake as your orgasm crests.

Your back arches stiffly, your mouth opening into a silent gasp. Tech holds you firm, licking and kissing your cunt all the way through it. Warmth, like liquid lightning, explodes from where his mouth meets your body, and for a moment you think you’ll never come down from it.

Eventually, you come to, leaning up back on your elbows as Tech stands. He wipes his chin with a thumb absently, and you stare at how his lips glisten with you.

“Was that your first orgasm?” Tech queries. You nod, still in a haze. He smirks ever so slightly, clearly pleased with himself.

“How do you feel?”

You frown, trying to think. Much of the burning sensation is gone, but there’s still an ache deep inside of you that has yet to be satisfied.

“Empty,” you decide, and Tech lets out another terse breath. You look down at his waist - he is stripped to just his blacks, and there is a prominent bulge pressing against the dark fabric. Your mouth suddenly waters, and you lurch forward, startling Tech.

He stabilizes you with his hands on your shoulders. “Careful,” he warns.

“I want to make you feel good,” you insist. “Teach me how to touch you.”

His throat bobs again as he swallows roughly. “Another time,” he placates. “This time is about you.”

He slides his blacks down, revealing his cock, hard and throbbing. Your cunt pulses in anticipation. You’d never seen a man's penis outside of images on the ‘net, so you didn’t have a lot of references, but you were pretty sure he was more endowed than the average male. So much so that even through the insistence of the drug you were concerned if he would fit inside you.

Tech comes forward to kiss you again, pulling you towards him. Sliding his arms under your bare thighs, he pulls you off the crate and walks you over to where his bed linens are spread out. Breaking from your mouth, he lays you down, hovering over your body and slotting himself between your legs. He shuffles forward, groin meeting yours, and rubs the head of himself through your slick.

“Remember what I said,” he directs lowly, and you nod. Satisfied, he grasps your hips and positions his cock at your entrance.

You wince at the pressure and the push; not from pain, but from the experience of a new sensation. Even through the enhancement the drug has placed on your body, he stretches you, splits you. Your mind races, trying to find the words to describe how it feels to have his cock inside of you - full, big, deep - finally deciding that it just feels right.

A groan from above you snaps your focus back externally, and you look up at Tech’s face. His brow is furrowed, not unlike when he is focusing on a problem.

“Are you ok?” You whisper, and he nods, head dipping to see where he is feeding himself into you. He pushes forward, thrusting more of his cock into your body.

“Yes,” he breathes out. “You are very tight, even with the effects of the drug.”

Clocking your concerned expression, he dips his head down to capture your mouth in another kiss. “It is - you feel incredible,” he assures. “I’m going to move now.”

Tech starts out slow, the drag of his cock up and then down intended to get you acclimated. Your legs come up to hook over his hips, and you bite your lip at the way your body is dragged against his.

You sigh in pleasured satisfaction, eyes closing and body relaxing into the rough medical blankets. Above you, Tech watches the way your mouth opens and brings a hand up to caress your swollen bottom lip.

“How does it feel?” Tell me,” he requests. Your brow furrows as you try to find the words, and he urges you on with another purposeful thrust.

“Good,” you cry. “Stars, Tech- it’s so good.” You roll your hips up to meet his, body purring with gratification at the strained breath it draws from him.

“What feels good?” He prods. His hips circle, and you choke at how he seems to know exactly where you need him inside of you.

“Your cock. S’big. Filling me up,” you mewl. “I l-like it, Tech.”

“Good girl,” he breathes out, and you clench at the praise. His pace quickens, and you know that you’ll feel the ache of him inside you for days after this.

You feel an orgasm building once more, though this time it is sparking from deeper inside of you. There’s a particular spot inside of your cunt that his cock rams against over and over, precise and intentional. One of his hands comes down to press softly against your swollen clit, and you let out a squeak at the sensation. You try to fight down your release, wanting to drag this out as long as you can.

“I…am not going to last much longer,” Tech professes, voice tense. You let out a low wail. “Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside me,” you beg instantly. “Come in me Tech, please. I need it.” It isn’t an exaggeration - your nerves scream for him to spill his seed inside of you, to satisfy the fire under your skin. It’s what you need to relieve the ache that has been building for hours.

“P-persuasive,” he chokes, gripping your hips and fucking himself into you harder. “If you insist-“

Your legs, hooked over his thin waist, tighten their grip around him. You cease fighting your impending release, enjoying the way your cunt flutters around Tech’s iron-hard cock. He is enjoying it as well if the way his mouth opens in a low gasp is any indication.

“T-tech,” you rasp, and his gaze snaps to your face. A firm hand grasps your chin, and he leans forward, his chest pressing against your own heaving form.

“Look at me when you come,” he demands, and you do your best to do what he says, Your orgasm rolls over you, and you blink away tears of pleasure as he rocks you through it.

His own finish comes during yours, the way your cunt clenches around him wringing from him the orgasm you need him to have. It’s a sight - the normally so put-together man burying his face into the side of your neck to muffle the sound of his pleasure into your sweat-slicked skin. His hips slow their pace as he pulses his release inside of you, giving in to your request for him to finish inside of your desperate cunt.

It takes a moment for both of you to steady your breathing. You throw an arm over your eyes, relief pouring through your body. It feels like dipping into a cold pool of water on a hot day, body returning to a state of equilibrium.

Lifting himself off you slowly, Tech pulls himself out of you at the same time. Your tongue darts out with a gasp at the sensation of something thick leaking out of your still-fluttering cunt. You hear him let out a satisfied noise at the sight, tucking himself back into his underlayers.

“Are you all right?” He questions softly, and you peek out from under your arm to nod.

“Yes,” you shiver. “T-thanks. I feel much better.”

Nodding, Tech leans against the crate, letting out a sigh. “I am…glad to hear it.”

Now that the drug has been placated, your senses returning to normal, you start to feel awkward. Following his lead, you gather your clothes and slip them on quietly, leaning up against the crate next to him. You pull your knees up to your chest and lay your chin on top, wondering if you should say something.

“You are thinking very loudly,” Tech comments, and you flick your eyes at him. His head leans against the crate, turned slightly to pierce you knowingly.

“Is mind reading another one of your enhancements?” You mumble, and he gives you a soft smile.

“No, though that would come in handy at times,” he reckons. “I just mean that you should not feel embarrassed at what has just transpired between us, though it is natural for one to experience those kinds of feeling after their first sexual encounter-“

“Easier said than done,” you challenged half-heartedly. “But thanks. I’m…grateful that you were here.”

“Was it satisfactory?” Tech inquired, and you let out a short laugh.

“Well it’s not like I have a wide frame of reference - but yes,” you admit. “It was…very good.” You clear your throat, embarrassed. “Was it…ok…for you?”

Tech raises a brow at your timid question. “Are you asking if I enjoyed having sex with you?”

You groan and bury your face in your knees, and feel him shuffle closer to you.

“While it may have been born out of medical necessity, it was not a chore,” Tech assures you. He knocks a shoulder against you, and you tilt your head up to pout at him. That’s probably the most direct affirmation you’re going to get from him, you decide. Little wins.

“And I meant what I said,” he continues. “About…another time. If you are not opposed.” Your brows raise in interest, and you clear your throat nervously before asking;

“How long did you say it would take the rest of the crew to get here?"

—

#tech x reader #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #tech smut

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kometqh · 3 months

Text

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓻𝔂..

Captain Rex x F!Reader x Fives Every night, without fail, you wake up crying, heaving as you realise the monsters of your nightmares have been long left behind on the battlefields you fought on alongside your beloved Clone Troopers, the 501st Legion. Every night, without fail, you note down all your thoughts and feelings onto paper, into your beloved Diary that your Jedi Master has given to you as a gift. What happens when the Captain and Trooper of the 501st get their hands on your prized possession? Word Count: 2845 Warnings: Very much unedited, most definitely not lore-accurate as I have just begun to watch Clone Wars. A/N: A spur-of-the-moment kind of fic, it will be a two parter story :) It does say Female reader as that is what I had in mind, however there are no pronouns or descriptions used that allude to the reader being female!

Your body shot straight up, sweat rolling down the side of your temple, shoulders heaving up and down rapidly through heavy breaths. You wearily scanned the area, the room you found yourself in, your bedroom, hidden under a blanketed darkness. You could vaguely make out the different shapes of objects in your room; the steel wardrobe, the desk seated in a faraway corner, the tall frame of the door. The small line of light that peaked through provided some comfort, some more visibly.

A shaky hand reached for the night light beside your temporary bed - a silver steel, upright lamp that provided a bright, white light. It didn't provide much comfort as hard white light flooded the room, but it was enough to convince you that the terrors in your dreams weren't physically present in your waking days.

Heaving a slow, heavy sigh, you slid back down into the pale comfort of your sheets, hugging a pillow to your body.

As you laid there, light still on, eyes shut, you were engulfed in the sound of deafening silence. You could almost hear the light buzzing of the mechanical structures of the ship, ringing in your ears.

You sighed again, turning your body to face the door. The light from the outside tickled at your eyelids, forcing them to flutter open. With a groan, you shoved your nose deeper into the soft material of your pillow, beginning to count down, hoping that, the mental image of numerous General's jumping up and down like innocent sheep, would lull you back to sleep soon enough.

Mini Skywalker's, Plo Koon's and Obi Wan Kenobi's cluttered your mind, hopping over a tall fence as you silently counted, 'One.. Two.. Three' and so on. It was definitely interesting image to think of, but in the meantime, it did little to stop your body from tossing and turning, heaving and sighing, twisting in your sheets.

With another, heavy sigh, you reached into your bedside draw, pulling out a small notebook and pen. You flipped it to the most recent page, jotting down the date and time, a small curse leaving your lips as you noticed the time; 01:25.

You were going to become a zombie at this rate.

Nethertheless, you began spilling words onto the page, the crease between your brows easing as time passed, the fast pace of your heartbeat steadying with each word that slipped past the boundaries of your mind.

By the time sleep had finally pulled you into it's clutches, your mind could tell the ship was leaving hyperspace, and approaching a new atmosphere, your diary and pen abandoned at your side, left open on the most recent page yet again.

You awoke when the ship had landed; merely five hours later. The metal hit the ground with a thud, successfully forcing your eyes open. You laid there for a long while, ears twitching as you listened to the distant sounds of clone troopers wandering the hallways, accompanied by loud chatter and laughter.

Those moments, those peaceful moments, where your men could take a moment to relax and unravel were your favourite. You fought hard to keep every single one alive, the guilt chipping away at your sturdy resolve, discipline and beliefs in the Jedi rules.

You had broken one of the most important rules from the very beginning; it was forbidden to form attachments. How could you abide by such a cruel rule, when you were stationed with the same men for the last three years, getting to know them, living with them, laughing and sharing meals? To you, such a rule shouldn't exist. You could tell many other Jedi also disagreed with it - Anakin Skywalker being one amongst many. Even Obi Wan Kenobi, whose rebellious personality did very little to hide his affections for a certain Mandalorian Senator..

Taking in a deep breath, you slowly opened your eyes, looking around the room.

A warm glow peaked through the tightly shut curtains, warming your skin in a gentle embrace. Even though your eyes burned with exhaustion, you had willed yourself to get up. It was already 07:00, your men were definitely up and ready for their mission briefing.

Though they'd have to wait a little longer, you supposed.

This was meant to be an easy, diplomatic mission centred around a Neutral planet. You and your troops, the 501st, would be ensuring the citizens' safety, and potentially discussing joining the Democratic Republic.

After spending some time getting ready, you left your quarters, silently stalking through the hallways, a distant rumble of the canteen ringing in your ears. The closer you got, the more shouts and lively conversations you could hear.

All of those men shared the same exact voice, but the small differences in speech patterns, accents, tone and volume, were enough for you to be able to distinguish between your squadron without even seeing any of their faces.

Tugging your robes closer to your body, you entered the canteen, heading straight for the food buffet. It was going to be a simple mission - grab some toast, some water, and escape before anyone could notice you.

And simple it would of been, if it wasn't for a certain Captain's sharp eyes and enhanced instincts; as if an alarm went off in his head anytime you appeared within his vicinity.

In no time, you felt his warm breath fan over the back of your neck, his chest close enough for you to feel the coolness radiating off his body armour.

"Good morning, Captain." You spoke softly, a hint of tiredness still laced within your voice as you blinked slowly, placing a piece of toast on your tray.

"G'morning General," His voice came out a rolling, warm rumble, directly by your ear as Rex leaned over you, "What are you having for breakfast?" He asked, his honey-brown eyes scanning over your food tray.

"Nuffin special, Captain, just a plain toast and water, how 'bout you?" You asked, moving away from the queue and to an empty table. You looked to Rex, noticing the corners of his lips tugging upwards, the sight warming your closed-off heart. You desperately wanted to cradle the side of his face in your palm, to soothe over the lines that wedged themselves between his eyebrows, noticing his exhaustion still showing even after a decent night's sleep.

"I've already had my breakfast with Fives and Echo, woke up quite early actually." He spoke softly, a chuckle escaping his lips as his palm rested on the small of your back, leading you to your seat.

Confusion took over your body as you sat down, bringing the toast up to your lips, taking a bite. "So, why are you here then, Captain?" You asked through a mouthful, eyeing him up and down, confusion clear as day across your face.

At that, his face hardened into one he wore often during meetings and battles, an uncertain heaviness clouding his eyes. His fists clenched atop his lap, his lips pulling into a thin line. He wished to discuss the mission with you; hoping to lessen the number of men needed. Though he wasn't sure how willing you'd be to give your men a small vacation, he still wanted to attempt to provide his brothers with some respite.

What kind of Captain would he be if he didn't consider his soldiers' health?

"Actually- I wanted to discuss the mission with you, General," He paused, breaking eye contact as his gaze dropped to his lap, then scaled back up to focus on the ice-blue, steel table separating the two of you, "I was thinking-"

"Thinking too much isn't good for you Rex, you've got enough lines on your forehead already." You joked, interrupting the clearly tense Captain. As you eyed him up and down with a soft smile, his shoulders visibly relaxed, the thin line his lips had become turning into the softest of smiles, his cheeks puffing up into marshmallows over the stretch.

"W-Well, I was wondering if you could allow my men to take this time to rest." He stated, his voice dropping to a low rumble as he eyed you from underneath a curtain of lashes. He was using his best puppy eyes, knowing very well what effect those had on you.

You blinked once, then twice, your eyes widening owlishly as you stared at Rex.

Was he.. Trying to woo you?

You sat just the smallest bit straighter, your shoulders stiffening as you begged the Maker for Rex to not pick up on the sudden stiffiness that clutched onto your body with a steel grip.

Why was he making things so much harder for you?

"R-Rex.. I'm not sure I-" You started, your stomach dropping as he released a defeated sigh.

"I know General, I know.. It's just that, after the last mission, we're all still quite exhausted." He spoke, his gaze unwavering as he leaned closer to you, his scent invading your nostrils. He smelled of the Canteen's breakfast, a faint scent of aftershave lingering over him. Had he shaved already? You never got to see more than a hint of stubble on his jaw and chin, before it was gone with the wind; like it never even existed.

That's why you were grateful for Fives; that man's goatee could never disappoint. You were sure a beard of some sorts would suit Rex so well - it wasn't too difficult to imagine with his brother around, serving as an example.

What would it feel like to feel the short hairs underneath your fingers? To feel the smooth skin of his cheek under your palm? The soft plushness of his lips against yours-

"General?" He interrupted your fleeting thoughts, a glint of hope shining in his eyes as you shook your head lightly.

It was the defeated, gentle sigh that gave you away.

If it were anyone else, Rex would never dare to ask such a question. But with you- with you, his men felt most comfortable, most safe. They respected you, and could feel you returning that respect every time you'd prioritise their lives over yours, telling them to retreat, to find cover as you had a handle on every situation, on every battle. You never abandoned them.

"Fine.. But I'll need at least one of you to accompany me." You paused, quirking a brow at the Captain, conveying your seriousness in just one look. "And I'll need the men to be on guard, okay? We can't risk being caught off guard if anything were to happen." You finally finished, your toast long forgotten, cooling down in the chilled canteen, as Rex graced you with the gentlest of smiles, his gaze softening the longer he listened to you.

He knew he could count on you, and he would prove to you that this wasn't a mistake. That it wouldn't be.

Clearing his throat, Rex stood up from his seat, rounding the table to you.

"Thank you General, I can assure you that the squadron will be ready for any and every circumstance, and I will personally escort you to the meetings. You have my word." He spoke, reaching his hand out for yours. Confusedly, you extended your hand into his grasp, a hint of pink dusting your cheeks as he pressed a swift kiss to your knuckles.

"R-Re- Uhm, Captain," You stuttered and paused, clearing your throat as you prayed for the blush to go away, "There is no need to thank me." You insisted, slowly getting up from your seat. His gaze followed you, tracing over your body with an unknown emotion hiding behind his thick lashes.

"Thank you General, now if you'll excuse me, I'll go inform the others that haven't heard." He stated, bidding you a goodbye, cheers following soon after as Rex lifted a hand, signing a thumbs up to some of his men behind you. Your gaze followed his form as you watched him exit the canteen, his head turning to look back at you one last time before the doors slid shut behind him.

"What the hell was that.." You whispered, continuing your breakfast as your thoughts ran at tens of miles an hour, a blush permanently settled on your cheeks.

"Captain, are you sure this is a good idea?" Fives asked as he adjusted his helmet, following Rex as they made their way to your quarters.

"Yes yes, I'm sure. She should be in here anyway." Rex stated, waving his brother's concerns off as they rounded the corner, your bedroom doors coming into sight. "Besides, she said we should meet her at her quarters before we depart." He insisted, coming to a stop by your doors.

Raising his fisted hand, Rex knocked on your doors three times before backing away, waiting for a response.

As a moment turned into a minute, and a minute turned into three, Rex knocked again, this time calling out your title. "General? Are you in there?" He asked, his voice raised in uncertainty. When he received no reply once again, he shook his head.

"I don't think she's in there." He turned to Fives, feet ready to start moving again as his brain racked over any other locations on the ship that you frequented. Fives looked at Rex, quirking a curious brow at him, though his helmet covered any and all expressions he shot in his brother's way.

"Maybe we should go in? Who knows, maybe the General got herself stuck in the refresher." He quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips as Fives made his way over to your door. Pressing a button, the doors swiftly opened before him.

Walking over to the doors of your refresher, Rex followed after Fives, taking his helmet off, unable to, unwilling to, stop his eyes from wondering all over your room, taking note of the lack of personalised decorations in your bedroom. There was a desk, numerous multi-coloured folders stacked neatly on top of it, a small lamp next to them.

He looked over your wardrobe, his fingers itching to pull it open, to see what other articles of clothing you owned apart from your Jedi robes.

As Fives knocked at the refresher doors, his helmet at his side, Rex inched closer to your bed, noticing a small notebook hidden just beside your pillow, still open on the most recent page. His fingers reached over for it, eyes scanning over the yellow-coloured pages, gloved hands gliding over the leathery spine of the small book.

"Oooh, what's that?"

Before Rex could react, the book was snatched from his grasp, his head snapping upwards to see Fives flipping through the pages, turning and closing the book, only to gasp. That had Rex's ears almost twitching, a curious brow quirked up.

"What? What is it Fives?" Rex asked, standing next to his brother.

The silence that followed made him uneasy, and leaning his head closer, he looked to the book, his lips gaping open.

"Do you see what I see?" Fives inquired, a smirk tugging at his lips as he turned his head to Rex. All that Rex could do was nod in stunned silence.

"Y/n's Personal Diary.." Fives whispered aloud, eyes scanning over the firsts page.

A lump built up in Rex's throat, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides as Fives read over the words you had messily written in your diary, his heart thumping as he recounted each memory, a soft smile tugging at both brothers' lips as they could feel every emotion you had spilled out onto the pages.

Though they quickly scrambled to hide the small book behind their backs, interrupted by the sound of your bedroom doors sliding open.

A scream left your lips as your gaze landed on the two armoured men, heart racing wildly at the unexpected scare. Their gazes didn't linger on you for too long, a faint pink ghosting over their cheeks as they looked anywhere but you.

"H-Hi General, we tried knocking but-" Rex begun, unsure of how to explain why he and his brother were snooping around your quarters.

"We were worried that you got stuck in the refresher when we heard no answer, so we wanted to make sure you were safe and ready for our trip." Fives finished Rex's sentence, casting his brother and Captain a side glance, his lips stretched into an awkward, innocent grin on his face.

"R-Right.. Sorry, General, it won't happen again."

"That's quite alright, I'm actually flattered you men were worried about me," You spoke softly, hand covering your mouth as you giggled at their explanation, your heart warming at the thought that the two cared so much for your well-being. Though you wouldn't let yourself show just how much that thought made you blush. "Now come on, we've got meetings to go to." You exclaimed, waving the two men over as you made your way out into the hall.

Giving each other a knowing glance, Rex and Fives followed, quietly telling one another to hide the diary. Rex nudged Fives with his elbow, now too far gone to quietly and innocently return the book to its original place.

"Just shove it into your bag.." Rex hissed out through thin lips, rushing after you as he cast his brother one last glance, making sure the diary was stored safely in one of their backpacks.

#captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #clone wars #star wars #star wars clone wars #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #fives x reader #clones x reader #501st legion #501st x reader #jedi #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #plo koon #galaxy #space

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paperback-rascal · 10 months

Text

I wonder WHO put the notice into the system... hm?

what if two schools of thought clashed together during Clone Wars - due to the high demand for clone trooper production, Kaminoans had to cut corners but also didn't want to do it because they're perfectionists BUT also ever since the war begun the cloners had to work more closely with Jedi who are humanists, and were very displeased how rigorous Kaminoans approach clone production (<- A/N of course I'm 80% sure it's part of canon/legend).

To humor the Jedi (and dodge possible inspection from their employers - the Republic) special evaluation board was created to settle whenever "problematic" clones should be decomissioned due to their mutations/defects/injuries/etc. or not.

Kaminoans didn't treat this idea seriously - it was just for the show. The cloners didn't treat Jedi seriously in overall - at best they viewed them as nuisance that interfere with their job. Also since Jedi are now heavily involved in warfare, it was believed the evaluation board meetings would be a minor setbacks in clone production.

Having to choose between Shaak Ti and Ro (Two Jedi masters stationed at Tipoca City), Kaminoans chose Ro for the job as they believed they found themselves an ally - a man of science amongst the Jedi.

Ro is Jedi healer who is very skeptical of the Force (especially Force healing) due to him being terminally ill (no amount of healing trances, healing crystals and mediation could cure his progressing illness). Thus having nothing but wait his approaching demise, desperate, he turned to science to deepen his knowledge of death and is now renowned coroner.

However working at Tipoca City morgue, Ro found a lot of… discrepancies. Not ALL of the cadavers at the morgue came from battlefields… and some freak accidents at Kamino training facilities… were more… suspicious than accidental.

Still kaminoans, especially at the beginning, didn't treat Ro seriously as well. Thus the second person recruited for "defective clones' physical and combat ability evaluation" was Kaminoan scientist - doctor Tanga Sa-Nayon. Tanga was young (barely graduated his internship), naive, full of himself and simping for Nala Se. He volunteered to work with Ro just to be noticed by mistress Se.

Ro immediately picked up Tanga's aloofness and he retaliated accordingly by being difficult just out of spite. Also Ro personally hated when he was taken lightly especially when judged by his deepening disability. Not to mention he can't stand incompetence and Tanga Sa-Nayon leans more toward being a buffoon.

---

See more posts about 347th regiment here -> [LINK] <-

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anakinskywalkerog · 1 year

Text

My Very Soul (Chapter 29)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 28

Warnings: literally nothing, protective Ani, tiny bit of reader angst (as I have mentioned before--things are getting darker, and also, clone wars plots are not a thing in this)

Summary: As you and Anakin prepare to enter the battle on Felucia, your continuing nightmares complicate your relationship with your Master

Word Count: 3k

"Yuma," Master Windu said in a serious tone, "you have the floor."

You quickly pulled your head up, snapping your mind back into attention. You stood in the middle of the council chambers, atop the High Council Tower, surrounded by the seated council members. You'd rarely been in this room—under normal circumstances, you would have been reverent, and fully focused.

But you felt the worried presences around you now as if your head was in a beehive. The buzz of the different feelings and thoughts had started to drown out the spoken words of the council members. The hum around you had even begun to drown out your own anxiety about why you had been called to this meeting—you were desperate to return to the field, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Master Yuma was not about to let you participate in this new mission without a fight. The hum swelled, as if many people were speaking, rather than one person. You shook your head, trying to block it all out. You knew you needed to focus.

"Thank you," Master Yuma said, giving you a brief and significant look before addressing the other council members. "Though I have already made my thoughts clear on this subject, I find my must repeat myself—while Y/N's force abilities have been an asset to us in the past, it is my position that under the current circumstances, they will be a liability on the battlefield. Given her experience with Count Dooku on Geonosis, I firmly believe that she should not be asked to serve in this war until we are able to make more progress with her...enhanced empathic abilities."

You felt your face flush with anger and defiance, but you worked to control your reaction. You kept your eyes blank, glancing at Yuma's worried face before looking beyond her, out the window toward the teeming city below. You breathed in and out. You wiped yourself of emotion, pulling your Force presence densely and minutely into yourself.

"With all due respect, Yuma," Master Plo Koon replied, looking between you and your former Master, "isn't Y/N the one who saw through Count Dooku's pretenses before the war even started? If we had listened to her warnings—"

"I am not trying to belittle nor diminish my former Padawan's abilities," Master Yuma quipped harshly, cutting off the end of Master Plo's sentence. "I, more than anyone else, understand that her abilities far outstrip many in the order. But it is the nature of her abilities, not their potency, that we must consider now. She is not ready to face the realities of war."

You kept still, allowing yourself to focus outward and take in the presences around you. You didn't turn around to look at them all, but you felt in the minds of the council members that Yuma's words were falling on deaf ears. Your insides grew spiky at the thought—with fear, or with excitement, you did not yet know. You held your breath.

"Your perspective on this is valuable, Yuma," Master Windu replied, his voice full of authority. He turned to Yuma and leaned closer, his tone pacifying. "But we cannot afford to spare either of you any longer. The situation on Felucia has worsened. This could turn the tide of the war altogether." At his words, you felt Yuma's frustration swell, and something else rising in her presence. It felt like electricity, shocking her from her insides. It was panic, you realized.

"Agree with Master Windu on this, I do," Master Yoda stated in his sage voice. "Worthy of our faith, Y/N has proven herself to be." You turned to look at Master Yoda, feeling a burst of affection. Why could Master Yoda find it within himself to have faith in you, when your own Master could not?

"Very well," you heard Yuma reply shortly, and you avoided her eyes, turning instead to look at Obi-Wan, who sat on the other side of the circle, his legs crossed casually.

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan said, meeting your gaze before turning to face Yuma, "Y/N might better serve under your leadership on this mission." You wrinkled your eyebrows, confused. "As Commander," Obi-Wan clarified, "of the 415th." The 415th was Master Yuma's clone battalion.

"We have new battalions that need leadership," Master Windu protested, but Master Yoda held up a small, wrinkly hand.

"Time to train a new battalion, there is not," Master Yoda said. "Right, Obi-Wan is. For the moment, serve as Commander Y/N will."

"If she does well," Obi-Wan said, a twinkle in his eye, "she can advance in rank when we return from Felucia."

"Right," Master Windu agreed, his intimidating stare lingering over you for a moment before he looked down at his holopad. "It's settled, then. Now, we have other business to attend to before we adjourn. Y/N, you are excused."

"Commander," you whispered angrily, "is the rank of a Padawan."

"At least you're coming with us," Anakin whispered back, giving your hand a small and inconspicuous squeeze. The two of you hurried toward the hangar, your Jedi cloaks sweeping behind you.

"As if I am not the youngest Knight in recent memory," you continued, like he hadn't said anything. Anakin sighed. "As if I am not more skilled than half of the generals in the Army of the Republic."

"You're more skilled than all of the generals," Anakin replied, his face forming a small, teasing smirk. "Present company excluded, of course."

"Then why?" you continued, Anakin's attempts at distracting you failing miserably. "Why does Master Yuma treat me like I'm weak? Like I need protecting?"

Anakin didn't respond. The truth was, you did need protecting. Anakin knew it, and so did Yuma. Your empathy, for all its uses in interrogation, in meditation, in spiritual practice, was dangerous when it came to war. Your tendency to hesitate before the kill, your reluctance to make the difficult choices required of a soldier, your inability to face darksiders without succumbing to their influence—all of these things meant that you were not to be trusted on the battlefield, at least, not on your own. And it was a good thing that you would not be on your own, Anakin reasoned, looking at your face as you huffed along beside him, your angry pout causing a warm and spiraling feeling to rise in his torso. You would be with him, and he could protect you. That was all that mattered.

"Yuma is overreacting," Anakin said quietly as the two of you emerged out of the blast doors and onto the large hangar. This, he thought, was at least a partial truth. "Because she's worried about you." Anakin leaned away from you and took a step to the side, making sure none of the clones that littered the hangar would have any reason to suspect his relationship with you was anything more than professional.

"But you aren't," you said, turning to Anakin and giving him a blazing stare, your eyes piercing. "Right? You have faith that I can do this?" Anakin's insides flipped. How he had assumed he could keep his thoughts to himself around you, after knowing you so long, he didn't know.

"Of course you can do this," Anakin replied swiftly, taking a tentative step toward you and holding your gaze. "I know you can do this." And he wasn't lying, not really. The two of you, together, could most certainly take on any battalion, droid or otherwise.

You stared at Anakin for a brief moment, narrowing your eyes, looking for any sense of falsehood. Anakin gulped. Then the sound of familiar footsteps interrupted your standoff, and he watched you subtly take a step away from him, putting on a casual demeanor.

"Are you ready?" Obi-Wan asked, glancing at Anakin before turning attentively to look down at you, paying you extra attention. You nodded fervently, and Anakin saw a hint of irritation cross your face.

"Where's Yuma?" you asked, keeping this frustration from entering your voice.

"Already aboard, assembling the 415th," Obi-Wan answered, looking more closely at your face, as if to make sure you were okay. You nodded at him, keeping your face stoic, but Anakin noticed a bit too much color in your cheeks. Obi-Wan turned to face him. "Anakin, you'll need to assemble the 501st on the right flank vessel," Obi-Wan instructed, "and then meet us for briefing on the command ship."

"Right," Anakin said, his mind snapping back into leadership mode. It was hard to reconcile these two sides of him—the side he was with you, and the side he was with his clones, his soldiers.

After making sure Rex had his battalion accounted for and in tip top shape according to protocol, Anakin boarded the command ship, walking swiftly through the halls as the vessel took off. As he approached the forward command center, he heard voices.

"...just want to make sure you understand the gravity of the situation," he heard Yuma's voice say.

"I understand, Master," Anakin heard you reply, your voice devoid of color. Anakin pressed the panel on the wall and the door opened. You and Yuma stood on opposite sides of the command deck, all but glaring at one another. Obi-Wan's tired face emerged between you. Next to Obi-Wan stood Marlo, the captain of Yuma's clone force.

"Good, we're all here," Obi-Wan said, nodding to Anakin. "Yuma, if you please."

"Of course," Yuma replied, turning away from you somewhat reluctantly. "As you all know, the situation on Felucia has come to a critical point." Yuma summoned a memory chip from atop the navicomputer with the Force, dexterously catching it between her fingers and sliding it into a spot beneath the command center's holo-deck. A holographic display of the Felucian terrain rose from the deck's consol. "The separatist army has taken control of the eastern front, and with it, they've gained control of the farming villages on this side of the river." Yuma pointed out the snaking form of the body of water in the middle of the hologram. "Our forces have managed to hold the line here, keeping control of the Commerce Guild headquarters, but the droid armies continue to launch attacks on the front." Yuma stood up straight, eyeing her fellows, taking on the posture of General. "If we lose the headquarters, we lose the planet, and with it the Perlemian trade route."

"Once we arrive with our reinforcements, it shouldn't be hard to retake the eastern villages," Anakin said, cocky as ever. Yuma shook her head.

"You mustn't underestimate the jungle environment. We're losing Clones to more than droids on Felucia." Yuma's face was tight.

"What does that mean?" you asked, looking between Yuma and Obi-Wan.

"It means poisonous fauna," Obi-Wan answered, stroking his beard and looking down at the holographic map, deep in thought. "It means disease, and bugs. It means jungle rancors," Obi-Wan looked up at you all somberly. "We'll need to strategize around the limitations of the planet."

"Certainly," Master Yuma agreed. "Now, I suggest all of us retire to get as much sleep as possible during the journey. Rest will be hard to come by once we arrive." You nodded, your eyes glazed over. Anakin took a step closer to you as Obi-Wan turned away to give orders to the pilots. Yuma continued to converse in hushed tones with Marlo, discussing various possible strategic maneuvers.

"Just like old times," Anakin whispered, feigning an unserious tone. You didn't look up. Your eyes were unfocused, clouded. Anakin reached for your arm, giving it a small shake.

"Except for, you know. A galactic war," you responded slowly, finally focusing your eyes in on his face, giving him a small smile.

"That," Anakin said quietly, glancing at Obi-Wan's turned back before reaching up to stroke your cheek, "and, now I can do this." Anakin watched your face relax as he softly pulled his fingers across your jaw, gently placing his thumb on your bottom lip.

"Rest," Anakin heard Master Yuma's voice repeat from behind him, and the two of you quickly stepped away from each other, blushing.

You were running through a hot, arid desert, your skin scorched from the sun, your face bruised. You screamed into the hot, dry wind—for Anakin, for your Master, for anyone who could come and help you—but you heard no response. The dry air caused you to choke, and you fell down onto the ground...through the ground.

You were topsy turvy, wrong side up. You fell through space until you landed, with a thud, on a snowy planet. Men in unfamiliar white uniforms surrounded you, and you put your hands up, as if to block your face. Where was your lightsaber? You felt your side, but couldn't find your weapon in time—the men started to shoot. You saw the light from the bullets...

You blinked, and suddenly, you were surrounded by lava. Someone was coming, you knew, someone you needed to fear. You looked around, wondering where to hide. You blinked tears out of your eyes. It was all too much, this anger, this hate, this horrible feeling. It felt like everything in you was burning, like everything was wrong, like nothing would ever again be right. You felt a lurch somewhere in your middle.

You blinked again, and suddenly, you were staring into a pair of bright, violet eyes, intent on the kill...

"No!" you screamed, sitting up with a start, flailing your arms in the air, looking around for some weapon, for something with which you could defend yourself. You breathed heavily, gasping, trying to figure out where you were.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to disturb you," you heard a familiar voice say. You blinked again, pushing your sweaty hair away from your face. Your breathing calmed slightly.

You were in your bunk, on the command ship, and Yuma was entering to sit on the bunk across from yours. The dreams that had plagued you for months flashed again through your mind, but you quickly pushed the thoughts out of your head, pulling into yourself, sucking your presence out of the air.

"It's okay," you said, quickly, swinging your legs off the bunk so you could face your former Master. "What is it?" You avoided Yuma's eyes, feeling the worry in her presence fill the cabin.

"I wanted to make sure..." Yuma began, her voice sounding hesitant. You finally looked up to meet her gaze. "I wanted to see if everything was okay," Yuma corrected.

"Everything's fine," you said in a calm voice. You knew you weren't fooling anyone. Your hands were still shaking. You clasped them on your lap, trying to calm yourself.

"I also wanted to make sure you knew," Yuma continued, watching you carefully. "That my reluctance for you to join me and my batallion has nothing to do with my estimation of you, as a fighter or as a Knight." This was a loaded statement. You knew there was more in Yuma's presence behind these words.

"I know," you said, in a mollifying tone. You had to remind yourself to breathe.

"With great power," Yuma said, staring you in the face with her kind eyes, sparkling as they did against the gold rings in her braids, "Often comes a great burden. You are very powerful, Y/N. You thus have a great burden to carry."

"I know," you repeated, your voice shrinking.

"That is why it will be crucial, while in the midst of battle, for you to follow my orders exactly." At these words, you felt a flame spark inside you—the flame of the old resentment, the frustration that had grown in the six months you'd been benched from the field.

"I know," you responded flatly, staring at the wall. Yuma's presence softened.

"Is there anything...you feel the need to confide in me?" Yuma asked quietly, and you felt in her presence that she was dwelling on your nightmares, the visions you'd accidentally shown her in the meditation room, and the visions that she had read from you in your sleep. Yuma's perception through the Force was flawed when compared with your own—she didn't read the fully formed images, thoughts, or feelings from you. Instead she read an echo, as if she were watching your thoughts through muddy glass, or as if she heard the inferior version echoed across a large cave. She didn't know the true essence of what plagued you in your sleep.

For a moment you wanted to confide in her—tell her everything that you'd seen, tell her how deep the fear and terror was in each of your dreams. You wanted to cry into her shoulder and allow her to stroke your hair, the way she used to. You wanted her to tell you everything would be okay. But you held back—you knew that not even Master Yuma could make all of this okay. And you didn't want her to think you weak, not now, when you were finally being allowed to join in combat, against her wishes. You felt yourself close a shell around your vulnerability. You wanted to prove to Yuma that you could be a true soldier.

"No," you said, trying to be convincing, but failing. "I'm ready for this," you added, swallowing as you looked into Yuma's eyes.

"I know you are," Yuma said, smiling warmly at you and patting your head softly as she stood. Behind these words, Yuma's presence was unsure, fearful. You sighed.

"You should get some sleep," you told Yuma, and she nodded, taking this as her cue to leave your quarters. She walked to the door and pressed the panel on the wall.

"Rest well," Yuma said softly, turning back to look at you before exiting into the hallway of the ship.

************************************************************************

I'm back! I'm back? maybe. Is anyone still here? ECHOooooOOO

NEW CHAPTER UP NOW!!!

divider credit: @racingairplanes

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