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deejadabbles · 6 months

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Languid Reunion (Tup x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Tup comes home to you later than expected, but tired as you are, neither of you can resist each other. Rating: Explicit (Minors Begone!) A.N: Yall can blame @dystopicjumpsuit for this!! IDK what you expected, mentioning Tup and cuddle fucking in the same sentence around me! I am not responsible for the cavities this tooth rotting sweetness may cause. Word Count: 1,540 Warnings: fluffy smut, unprotected PiV, creampie, swaddling. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3

Tup hated how late it was. Later than he intended, later than he wanted. You were surely asleep by now and, as much as he wanted his usual steamy welcome, he'd prefer it if you were asleep. He hated the idea that he had kept you waiting so long.

Just as well, given his current state, practically dead on his feet. If he hadn’t been so desperate to see you he would have caught some sleep in his bunk before beginning his shore leave.

He mentally cringed when the keypad to your door beeped with each press of the keys, in the deathly quiet hallway, it might as well have been a bomb. Thankfully the door sliding open wasn't as startling.

Soft, low music greeted him through the dimly lit apartment and it just took one step inside to spot you curled up on the couch. In an instant, Tup could imagine what happened. You had set the scene, gentle, sensual music, and low lighting, only to fall asleep as you waited for him.

A sigh hissed through his teeth, the last thing he wanted was to disappoint you.

At least he was here now.

Taking care to lock the door behind him, Tup set his KIT down and silently came to the side of the couch. Your arm acted as a pillow as you snoozed, and somehow, Tup felt at ease watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Even in the moody lighting, he could see you perfectly, gorgeous legs exposed, shirt riding up to reveal nothing but simple cotton panties underneath. You were stunning. You made even this simple vision unbelievably erotic.

If there was a goddess of domestic bliss and beauty, then you were certainly it.

He wasn’t surprised that, despite his exhaustion, you still managed to light a fire in him. Kriff, he could feel himself getting hard, already starting a tent his blacks as he took you in. “Not now, Tup,” he scolded himself privately. He had already ruined your night by being late, he didn't need to wake you with his neediness. Though, could anyone blame him after seeing you like this?

With a calming breath, he knelt beside the couch and very gently cupped your face. He whispered your name before kissing your forehead softly. “Come on, beautiful, let's get you to bed.”

Finally, you stirred, groaning a little and eyes fluttering open. Despite their tired haze, they shone when you met his gaze.

“Tup- you’re home!” Your arms were around him in an instant, slinging over his shoulders and pulling him in.

He chuckled despite the awkward position and slipped his own arms around you as best he could as he buried his face in your neck.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your skin, “missed you so fucking much.” His eyes squeezed shut as he breathed you in, the scent of you reminding him that this- that you were indeed his home. “ ‘m sorry, mesh’la,” his slurred and muffled words were barely audible even to him, but he hoped you heard, “sorry I kept you waiting.”

He didn’t quite catch your own tired response, but he knew it was some gentle reassurance, it always was. Silently, Tup used your grip on him to pull you upright and lift you off the couch. He couldn't even think about pulling away from your neck, so he relied on memory alone as he slowly shifted your tightly entwined bodies toward your bedroom.

You were sure you were still half asleep as he guided you, but it didn’t matter so long as he stayed close. Somehow neither of you ran into furniture in your sleepy haze and the next thing you knew you were falling into bed still wrapped around him. You were glad that he had already taken off his armor, leaving less barrier between your bodies as you pressed yourself against his chest. Tup finally extracted his face from your shoulder, only to nuzzle you just below your ear.

He shifted up the bed, settling your body on top of his as he reached your stack of pillows. Maker, you were floating on a cloud of sensations. You could feel his lips trailing lazily across your temple, his hand stroking your back, and his bulge pressing against your stomach.

Barely aware that they had shut again in the first place, your eyes fluttered open and drifted up to his face. His own eyes were closed too, face flushed as he brushed his lips against your skin in a distracted pattern. For some reason, Tup hadn’t taken his hair down, so you reached up and gently worked your fingers through the bun.

His curls came tumbling down after a while and your efforts were rewarded with his deep, throaty moan. You tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling a hand travel down to knead your ass as you did.

Then it was your turn to moan when Tup dipped his fingers even lower and grazed your pussy.

“Hm, you’re wet, baby,” he mumbled, lips pressed to your ear.

You nodded against his chest. “Was thinking about you. About how much I missed you.” Honestly, you had worked yourself into such a heated state while you waited for him, that you were surprised you fell asleep.

Tup gave your ass another squeeze before he slipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. Your grip on his hair tightened when the tips of his digits circled your entrance, collecting your slick and spreading it sloppily across your skin.

A whimper left you the more he teased. “Tup,” you breathed, free hand gripping his shirt, “Tup, please-”

“I know, mesh’la, I know,” he murmured, eyes still closed. Then he started pulling your panties down. “Come here… I’ll take you… just like this.

You lifted yourself up, just enough for his other hand to yank the bottom half of his blacks down, freeing his cock. With you still cuddled against his chest, he slipped inside you with a drawn-out groan of pleasure.

“Kriff, cyare, how do you feel even better than I remember?” he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

Your mind couldn’t think of an answer as he started a slow, almost sloppy, pace. All you could manage to do was meet his thrusts with unrushed rolls of your hips. Normally, you would be massaging his scalp or nipping at his neck, he in turn would be rubbing your clit or marking your skin. Tonight though, it was all you two could do to keep your hips moving with each other as you teetered on the edge of sleep.

Thankfully, the weight behind your position did give your clit some stimulation and when you moaned at a particularly nice thrust, Tup hummed in distracted delight.

“That’s it, beautiful. Go on, use my cock. Need to feel you come on it.” His hot breath fanned across your face as he groaned in pleasure of his own. “Need to make you feel good.”

His words caused that hot coil in your body to tighten. You did as told, trying to focus long enough to reach your peak. What sent you over the edge though, was Tup pressing his large hand on your ass, adding even more pressure to your movements.

It wasn’t blinding pleasure or earth-shattering ecstasy. Instead, your orgasm came in gentle, steady waves. It was more than enough, though, and you tried to gather enough concentration to clench around his cock as you rode out the sensation.

Tup could feel your efforts, and he made sure to whisper your name as he felt his balls tighten. His own end came like a ripple through his body and he threw his head back against the pillows with a deep, drawn-out moan as he filled you with his hot cum.

Usually, he would be panting and heaving hard after taking you, this time all he needed was a few deep breaths to steady his aftershock. He was glad for it in a way, because feeling you against him was the best part of this cuddled lovemaking.

All Tup wanted to do in that moment was slip into sleep just like this. But, his need to take care of you was scratching the back of his mind. You deserved to be cleaned up just like always and he’d scrape together the energy to do it if it killed him.

He had just started to lift your hips off of him when you grumbled and sank back down on his soft cock.

“No, stay like this,” you whined against his chest. “Want you to stay inside me.”

That shocked him a little, cleaning each other up after was always such a thorough and loving act between you two. Then again, you sounded like you were already half asleep again, and he wasn’t far behind. Not to mention the idea of staying just as you were was a little hot in of itself.

He huffed out a laugh as his eyes closed again, holding you as close as possible, burying himself hilt deep in your warm core. “ 'Clean you up in the morning, mesh’la…” he mumbled.

Your steady breathing was the rhythm that slipped him into sleep.

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#tup x reader #tup x you #clone trooper tup x reader #clone trooper tup x you #deeja writes #spicy lemons #tup smut #clone trooper x reader

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 10 months

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A Man's Worth

Tup x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: Death in the Shadows

gif by @kamino-coruscant

Summary: Your date-night with Tup is interrupted when your stalker finds you and won’t leave without you. Tup heroically comes to your defense, but is overpowered by the assailant and you are taken away. After your rescue, Tup struggles with his insecurities and self-worth as he tries to heal physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Pairing: Tup x Fem!Reader

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

Tags & Warnings: 18+, established relationship, domestic fluff, minor suggestive themes, stalking, kidnapping, violence, blood, major injuries, whump, trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, self-worth, masculinity, depression, PTSD

Word Count: 6.7k

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it decided it wanted to be more. Don’t ask me where the idea came from. It was the first thing that popped into my head when I read the bingo square. Writing this was painful, but chapters two and three are worse, so... As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta Read: By the lovely @commander-sunshine because sometimes I think my work is trash.

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Obsession

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

“I am so full,” you groan while exiting the restaurant. The fresh evening air hits your face and you take a deep breath to refresh yourself.

“Me too,” Tup agrees as he rubs his stomach. “I’m kind of glad the other place messed up our reservations, because this place was amazing.”

“Right?” you pop a mint into your mouth and offer one to Tup. “This is definitely going on the list of favorites.”

“Absolutely,” Tup agrees while taking the mint. He clasps his hand in yours and you stroll leisurely down the sidewalk together.

Date nights are your favorite nights. You and Tup always make it a point to set aside one night, while he’s on leave, dedicated solely to each other. It’s a time of bonding and learning about each other. Even though you’ve been together for two years now, you don’t want to get complacent and lose the spark that you had in the beginning. In order for the night to be considered a true date night, it must consist of three things: food, fun, and intimacy.

The food portion of the night has happily concluded at the new restaurant you just left. After your original reservation was mysteriously lost, you wandered down the streets looking for somewhere else to have dinner and this little hole in the wall with a crooked neon sign piqued both your interests. The inside had a lively atmosphere and good music. And although the menu was limited, the portions were huge and you barely finished your shared dessert.

The fun portion was completed before the food. You found out the hard way that food before fun only ended up making you both sick, so you switched them around. Tonight you swept the floor with Tup at mini-golf. He talked a good game, but his mini-swing lacked any sort of form. His golf balls landed in the water, in the dirt, over the fence, and in someone's drink cup. You really didn’t think someone could be that bad at mini-golf, but Tup is always surprising you.

Now, all that’s left is the intimacy portion. Intimacy can be anything as long as you do it together and are completely alone. Some nights you will bake cupcakes and make a mess with the frosting, or take a hot shower and wash each other’s hair, or cuddle up with a good holo-film and eat copious amounts of junk food, or just have sex. The day usually ends in sex, but it isn’t the point, or the main focus of date night, so it always falls to the bottom of the list of priorities.

The sun is setting beyond the horizon as you make your way home and you sigh in contentment as you lean your head against Tup’s shoulder. He glances down at you, smiles, raises your clasped hand to his lips, and kisses your knuckles. You smile warmly in return for his affection. Today’s date night is perfect and the weather could not be better. It’s not too hot, which is always a concern in the summer, with a light breeze that brushes gently by your exposed skin.

You continue walking down the street, clasped hands blithefully swaying in the air like a young couple in love, relishing in each other’s presence. You see a bench coming up in your path and instead of letting go of Tup’s hand and going around it, you climb up it to walk across. Tup doesn’t miss a beat and continues holding your hand from the ground while you stretch out your other arm to balance. Once across, you gracefully hop off the end and continue your journey.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” Tup praises as he leans over and plants a kiss on your temple.

“Stop it,” you laugh and tap his arm in jest.

Tup flexes his bicep and twirls you around to rest against his chest. He crosses his arms over your stomach to trap you and you giggle. He leans his chin atop your shoulder and whispers in your ear. “Never.”

You close your eyes and place your hands on his forearms as he sways back and forth, slowly dancing on the sidewalk to non existent music. You let yourself melt into his body’s warmth, feeling his firm chest against your back and his strong arms holding you, securing you in a gentle embrace. You don’t care who’s watching and you don’t care what they think. When you're with Tup your inhibitions and insecurities dissipate like clouds on a sunny day.

You open your eyes and continue to sway when you catch a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of your eye. Your body stiffens and a shiver runs up your spine. You study the figure and your stomach drops as your heart rate increases. It’s him. You can’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it. How did he find you? You try to look away from his menacing presence as he observes you from the shadows, but you can’t. Your blood runs cold as fear washes over you.

Tup feels your muscles tense against his own as you stop swaying with him. The sudden change in your demeanor demands his attention. He notices goosebumps forming on your arms and wonders if you’re getting cold. He mentally kicks himself for not bringing a sweatshirt with him in case you needed it, however, something about your shivering feels off. The evening air is warm, not cool, as demonstrated by the sweat forming on the back of his neck.

“Cyare?” Tup asks in concern while cocking his head to the side.

You don’t answer, too afraid to form coherent words. It’s as if someone glued your mouth shut.

“Cyare?” Tup asks again, this time gently turning you around to face him. The look in your eyes tugs at his heartstrings. He can finally see what he was feeling emanating from your body, pure fear.

You startle at the movement and look into Tup’s deep amber eyes, searching desperately for safety and comfort. Tup stares back, silently asking what you need from him, waiting for you to speak. You finally mutter the words. “I want to go home.” The syllables are soft spoken, almost broken, as if one more utterance would break an invisible dam, releasing a cascade of emotions.

Tup doesn’t understand what is happening, but he does understand you, and if you say it’s time to go home, then it’s time to go home. For him, no more words need to be spoken. Whether you want to talk about it when you get home or not is up to you, but that’s not his main concern at the moment. His only concern is your safety and your wellbeing. He nods at your request, giving you assurance, clasps your hand in his, and begins walking towards home.

Tup takes ten steps and you abruptly stop. He doesn’t notice at first and continues walking, but stops when he feels the resistance as your hand strays from his. He turns on his heels and furrows his brow with concern. He doesn’t understand what is causing this sudden trepidation, but he’s growing worried. Is it him? Did he do something to cause this? The thoughts nag at the back of his mind, but he shoves them away in search of something more definite from you.

“Can we take the long way home?” you ask nervously, your gaze fixated on the shadowy figure Tup was inadvertently walking towards.

Tup’s confusion continues. The long way is ten blocks from your position. The short way is only two blocks. Tup scratches his head and searches your features. He watches you pick at your fingers, biting your lip, your legs trembling, and the way your chest heaves as if you’re being deprived of oxygen. He scans past you, desperately wondering what or who is scaring you so fiercely that you want to walk an extra eight blocks home, but nothing catches his eye.

Tup is snapped out of his focused gaze by you tugging on the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Please?” you plead with shaky breath, tears threatening to escape your eyes.

Tup’s heart shatters. He’s never seen you like this before. “Yes, of course,” Tup rushes to say when he realizes he’s taking too long to respond to your original question. “We can stop by that ice cream stand in the park on the way. Sounds good?”

He gives you a small smile, hoping for your bright and cheery disposition to return at the prospect of your favorite summer treat, ice cream, but you don’t smile back and answer only with a slight nod. Tup frowns, his efforts to lighten the mood fail, but he takes your hand in his and grips it tightly to reassure you of his presence. If anything, he wants you to know he’s there for you, even if you never tell him what’s wrong, he’ll always be there.

You both walk in silence as you wind the long way around to your apartment. Tup continues to scan the surroundings, still searching for the source of your sudden fear, but he can’t locate it. The thought of him being oblivious to such an enormous fear of yours makes him feel insecure about how attentive he is. Maybe he missed it in a conversation or maybe you said it in passing and he forgot. He racks his brain trying to figure it out, but the dots won’t connect.

A cold shiver runs up Tup’s spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, stopping him dead in his tracks. This feeling. He knows this feeling, intimately. He first felt it on Umbara as a shiny and he never forgot it. The feeling of cold eyes watching him from the shadows, waiting to strike him down. Is this what you saw? Is the source of these threatening eyes what is terrorizing his love? His breath quickens and he turns around, putting himself between you and the menacing gaze.

Tup steels himself, his eyes scanning for the source. He knows it’s out there, waiting, coiled, and ready to strike at him with venomous fangs. Then he sees it, the figure in the shadows that’s been watching and following. How long it’s been following you both, he’s not sure, but he’s going to end it here and now. He lets his training kick in and prepares himself physically and mentally. He’s faced many enemies and he’s not going to back down from whatever this one is.

The figure, realizing it’s been noticed, steps out of the shadows. Tup’s eyes grow wide as he looks at the towering figure and he takes a cautionary step back. The man is massive, at least three times his size and built like a gunship. Tup’s heart rate increases as he feels naked and exposed without his armor and his blaster. He understands now, your fear, because that same fear is biting at the back of his spine, threatening to alter his fight response into a flight response.

The large man takes a step forward, and Tup takes two steps back, pushing you back along with him. This isn’t good. Tup scans his surroundings quickly but there’s nothing he can use as a makeshift weapon. If this encounter turns violent, it’s going to be a fist fight and it won’t be pretty. The man steps forward again, chuckling darkly as Tup takes another few steps back. Tup glances over his shoulder and grimaces as he notices you’re both being backed into an alley.

“You thought you could run away from me again, did ya?” the man sneers.

Tup is baffled by his words, but he feels you bury your face into his back and a few pieces begin to click in his mind. “Do you know this guy?” Tup throws over his shoulder as he continues to back you both into the alley.

Your legs tremble as you try to move in step with Tup. “He’s…” you attempt to force the words out. “He’s my stalker.”

Tup curses under his breath as he mentally calculates the different outcomes, none of them ending well. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tup asks, trying to swing his voice to sound more inquisitive than condemning.

“I thought he couldn’t find me here,” you answer through a shaky voice. “He’s been obsessed with me for years. I have eight restraining orders on eight different planets.”

Tup curses under his breath again. “Do you have a restraining order for him on Coruscant?” Tup continues his inquiry, well aware that it’s a dumb question.

You nod your head and ball his t-shirt tightly in your fists. This is your worst nightmare. You’ve been moving from planet to planet for years attempting to shake him, but he always ends up finding you. There’s not a police force in the galaxy that has been able to catch him. He’s elusive and cunning, a stark contrast to his brutish appearance, and he’ll do anything to make you his. The sheer terror you feel in this moment is overwhelming and you want to vomit.

“What’s the matter baby?” the man asks. “Why aren’t you happy to see me?”

You flinch at the words. A muscle in Tup’s jaw tics as anger brims under the surface from your terrified reaction. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“She’s not your baby,” Tup scoffs at the man’s false insinuation.

“Oh?” the man raises an eyebrow. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Tup states confidently while using every bit of conviction he has.

The man laughs loudly and points at Tup. “Him? You chose a clone over me? This subhuman blaster fodder is your boyfriend? Don’t make me laugh baby.”

Tup narrows his eyes as ire burns in his gut. The insults about his existence don’t bother him anymore. Not everyone has the same view about clones, but he’s still flesh and blood, like any other lifeform, and it doesn’t make him any less human if he shares the same DNA with a million other men. He has feelings, a personality, likes and dislikes, just like everyone else. No. What’s really bothering him is your tears soaking through the back of his shirt and it fuels his anger.

The man walks forward. “Come on baby, I’m taking you back home.”

“Over my dead body,” Tup snarls as he steps forward to meet the man’s movement. It no longer matters that he doesn’t have his armor or his blaster. This is carnal. This is something ingrained in him that just feels right. An overwhelming instinct to protect what’s his. No one is taking you away from him, not while he’s still alive and breathing.

The man straightens up to his full height, flexes his muscles, and cracks his neck. “I was hoping you would say that.”

His intimidation tactic is working as Tup feels an incredible wave of dread wash over him. He discreetly slips his hand in his pants pocket and activates the distress beacon on his comm link. Whether anyone will actually see it and come to his aid he doesn’t know, but it’s better than nothing. Tup takes a deep breath, gently pushes you aside, and stands his ground. He’s a clone trooper after all and he was bred to fight. This is what he’s good at, and he’s going to do it.

“Come on, clone,” the man taunts with a wave of his hand. “Show me what those little arms can do.”

“Sooran ni’jagyc,” Tup shoots back as a challenge.

Your jaw drops in shock. You’ve never heard something so vulgar come from Tup’s mouth, at least not when he’s with you. You imagine his vocabulary must be pretty colorful as a soldier, so it’s not surprising, but it sounds weird coming from his lips. You watch nervously as the two men square each other up, like predator and prey. You slink back to a reasonably safe distance into the alley to give Tup the room to maneuver without you getting in his way. The tension in the air thickens.

The man lunges forward and Tup quickly evades his first strike. The attacker is large and his movements are sluggish and unrefined, whereas Tup is smaller, quicker, and more precise with his movements. Tup remains weary, even with his slight advantage from years of training. They play a game of hit and miss for several minutes and you fidget with your fingers and tap your foot as you watch. Your stomach lurches at the brutal swings as you wait for one to find its mark.

Sweat begins to form on Tup’s brow as he dodges another swing. His stamina is still good and if he can keep outmaneuvering his opponent, he just might tire him out. The man is getting frustrated that he can’t land any hits and his movements become more erratic and desperate. Tup takes the opportunity to look for an opening, anywhere he can land a hit. He finally sees one and goes for it, but Tup’s fist is caught mid-flight, the man’s hand encapsulating his entirely.

“Gotcha,” the man says as he peers down at Tup with a devilish smirk.

Dread washes over Tup’s face at the realization that he’s been caught. He knows it’s over. He knows he can’t break free, not from the iron grip surrounding his hand. He once again feels small, naked, and afraid for not only his life, but also yours. A part of him recognizes he may not survive what comes next and he glances back over his shoulder to give you the best smile he can, knowing it may be the last one he gives you.

“Look away, mesh’la,” Tup orders as calmly as he can. He doesn’t want you to see what’s going to happen next.

You nod, but you don’t intend to look away. At your confirmation, Tup’s gaze snaps back to the man towering over him. He tries to yank his fist out of the man’s grasp, but it won’t budge. The man watches Tup’s feeble attempts at breaking free and laughs. He rotates his fist outward, slowly bending Tup’s arm, forcing the clone to his knees as he winces from the twisting force. Tup grabs the man’s arm with his free one to try and stop his movement, but it’s not enough.

Crack

You gasp at the sound of breaking bone and the agonizing scream that follows. You put your hand over your mouth as your stomach churns. You’ve never heard Tup make a sound like that. It’s an unnerving and frightening sound that reverberates in your mind and echoes through your eardrums as it bounces off the walls of the alley. You should have listened and looked away. The sight of his arm twisted and mangled into a position inhumanly possible is not one that will soon leave your mind.

“Tup!” you yell as tears roll down your face.

“I said, look away!” Tup cries through labored breath, pain radiating through his broken voice.

This time you listen, clamping your hands over your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You slide down the alley wall, slumping to the ground, and place your head against your knees. You don’t want to see it and you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to witness this horrific display. It’s unfair that Tup has to suffer because of you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you wonder what you could have done differently to prevent this from happening, but nothing comes to mind.

Crack

You flinch at the fracturing of more bone and the excruciating shriek that follows. You press your hands firmly over your ears, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t drown out Tup’s tortured voice as he groans in pain. You want it to stop, all of it. You want him to stop. You want him to leave Tup alone and both of you go back to the way your night was before your stalker arrived. You flip through images of Tup in your mind and try to focus on his soothing voice and warm smile.

Crack

Your happy memories are shattered like Tup’s body while his anguished cries float across the air and find their way between your fingers and into your ears. You let out a frightened whimper at the noise, even though the sound of his suffering is your morbid reminder that he’s still alive. You want to open your eyes, but you're afraid. Then you hear a different sound, a gasping of breath. No. He’s going to kill him. You finally brave a peek at the scene and you gasp in horror at the sight.

Your stalker has his hand wrapped around Tup’s throat, holding him several feet off the ground as blood drips from his pant legs and puddles on the ground beneath him. Tup’s limbs are twisted in a way they shouldn’t, with pieces of bone sticking out through bloody skin and ripped clothing. The pain he must be feeling is indescribable. You watch helplessly as Tup wriggles his mangled body gasping for whatever breath he can while using his only good hand to pull at the hand choking him.

You slam your fist on the ground and sob. You’re desperate for someone to save him, anyone, but there’s no one. It’s just the three of you. The only person who can save Tup is you and you’re not even sure if you can. You think about how Tup selflessly threw himself at his adversary to protect you and you want to do the same. You want to protect him, save him, because it’s better for Tup to be alive without you, than to live knowing his death was your fault.

You pick yourself up off the ground and stand on shaky legs like a newborn bantha. With one step at a time, you approach the man holding your mutilated boyfriend, stopping as you reach his side. You look up at Tup, his face is almost unrecognizable and his hair has left the confines of its tie with locks of curls pasted to his face with blood. Your heart breaks. “Please,” you beg with a shaky breath. “Please, let him go.”

The man moves his gaze from the bloody toy in his grasp and peers down at you. “Why should I?” he asks with a huff.

You take a sharp inhale and steel yourself. “If you let him go, I’ll go home with you,” you breathe out, completely surprising yourself with your resolve.

The man raises a curious eyebrow at your proposition.

“N… o…” Tup croaks out from beneath the man's chokehold, his eyes trying to meet yours, but all he sees is a film of red.

Annoyed by the talking piece of meat in his grip, the man takes his other hand and slams it against Tup’s jaw, knocking it out of place with a single deft movement. Blood flings from Tup’s face and splatters across yours as he lets out a stifled groan. His head rolls back as he fades in and out of consciousness. You gasp in horror at the violent act and you raise a trembling hand to your face to wipe Tup's blood off, taking a moment to stare at the crimson stain on your fingers.

“There,” the man smiles satisfactorily. “Now we won’t be interrupted.”

New waves of terror wash over you as shock threatens to take over your system, but you continue to stand your ground, determined to save Tup. “Please,” you ask again with as much sincerity as you can muster. “Please let him go and I’ll go home with you.”

The man contemplates your offer and finally drops his toy. Tup gasps, with what little ability he has left, as he hits the ground hard. You sigh in relief, but it quickly turns to more horror as you watch the man kick Tup in the stomach and hurl him against the wall of the alley. At this point, Tup can’t make any more noises. He just lies against the wall, limp, bleeding, and broken. You look up at the man and beg him to leave Tup alone. You beg and beg and beg, crying for him to stop.

The man walks over to Tup’s mutilated, bloody body and picks him up by the neck again, his twisted arms and legs dangling lifelessly. The man looks at you and smirks. “Do you know where clones belong?”

You whimper, stifling back a sob, and shake your head.

“In the trash,” the man laughs as he tosses Tup’s body in the closest dumpster.

You tremble at the echoing thud Tup’s body makes when it lands in the dumpster. You wonder if he’s dead. He must be dead. No one can survive that level of physical abuse. You fall to your knees and sob. You sob for your lost love and you sob because it’s all your fault. You brought your past into Tup’s present and now he’s paid for it with his life. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t the life you wanted and now you’re mourning the life you had. The life you loved.

The man grabs your arm and yanks you up from the ground. There’s nothing more you can do now. You don’t have a choice. All hope has been lost. You have found yourself at the end of a very terrifying road with no one to protect you and no one to save you. You swallow hard and accept your fate, a fate that Tup died in vain to prevent. You reluctantly go with the man who murdered your love, turning back to look into the alley one last time to mouth a silent I'm sorry.

“You’re overreacting,” Fives criticizes while putting his hands behind his head. “He probably hit it by accident.”

“That doesn’t sound like Tup,” Echo argues as he concentrates on the beacon. “He could be in danger.”

“It’s date night,” Fives reminds Echo with a cheeky grin. “The only danger he’s in is getting blue balls.”

“Real mature, Fives,” Echo rolls his eyes without looking up from the data-pad.

“Listen,” Fives starts, “I was having a great night until you dragged me out here, in full kit no less, to track down Tup and his girlfriend.”

“Yes, I’m sure your hand is missing you very much,” Echo jokes with a small smirk.

Fives flicks an unamused look towards his brother and scrunches his nose to mock him. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“Just shut up and focus,” Echo says with annoyance.

Fives crosses his arms against his chest in protest and continues walking beside Echo in silence. They follow Tup’s distress signal, winding their way past shops and restaurants illuminated by fluorescent neon signs. The vivid colors and bright lights dance across their armor against the dark backdrop of the night. They stop momentarily when the beacon alerts them to the location of Tup’s comm link being only a little distance up ahead.

Trading concerned looks between each other, they warily continue forward. Echo watches the beacon closely, the beeping pattern matching his anxious heartbeat. There’s no reason for Tup to be here in an empty street like this. They walk past an alley and the beeping from the beacon slows. Echo puts a hand across Five’s chest to halt him, then takes a few steps back. The beacon beeps faster as he approaches the entrance of the dark alley.

Odd is the only word the two Arc Trooper’s can come up with as they share a nervous look. They step into the damp alley, flicking on their helmet lights to see into the darkness, but nothing catches their gaze. There’s nothing in the alley other than garbage, dumpsters, and mysterious liquids littering the ground. They continue to look around, the beacon guiding them to the distress signal. The beeping is loudest by the dumpster and they move towards it to investigate.

“I knew it,” Fives sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. “He lost it and it ended up in the trash. I told you it was nothing to worry about.”

Echo grumbles at Fives’ words, crosses his arms in annoyance, and leans against the opposite wall.

“He owes me for this,” Fives says as he walks toward the open part of the dumpster. He grips the metal side with both hands and hoists himself up to peer inside. He prepares himself for the stench, but nothing could have prepared him for the horrific sight. A beaten and bloody clone. His breath hitches and his stomach jumps into his throat. He swings his legs over the side of the dumpster and jumps in.

He kneels next to the clone. Their body is so mangled and twisted, he can’t tell who it is. He brushes the hair out of their battered face and his heart sinks. A blood stained teardrop under their right eye. No. It can’t be. This can’t be Tup. Fives’ heart races. He puts two fingers to the side of his brother’s neck, checking for a pulse, repeating ‘please don’t be dead’ to himself over and over again, a silent wish. Then he feels it, a faint rhythm pushing back.

“Hang on vod’ika,” Fives whispers as he gently brushes more strands of the blood-caked hair away from his face. “Hang on for me.” He debates whether he should move Tup himself, but with the amount of bodily damage, there’s no good way to pick him up without injuring him further. Fives curses to himself. “Call the corries,” He orders through comms. His voice is steady, but conceals a bitterness.

Echo is startled out of his roaming thoughts and pushes himself off the alley wall he was leaning against, “What did you find?”

“I said call the corries!” Fives yells, his voice now demanding as anger and worry seeps through. “And get a medic!”

Echo is taken aback by Fives’ aggressive tone and jogs over to the dumpster to see what he found. If they need the Corrie Guard and a medic, it can’t be good. He jumps up the side of the dumpster and leans over to see Fives kneeling next to a bloody body, a clone trooper’s body. Echo’s face contorts beneath his helmet and he wants to gag, not just at the smell, but also at the morbid sight of bones sticking out of the beaten trooper’s lifeless body.

He stares for a moment longer when the realization washes over him like the raging waves of Kamino. The distress beacon, the alley, the dumpster, the bloody clone. It’s Tup. There’s no denying it, those lengthy curls, the tattoo under his eye. It’s him. Echo’s blood boils and he lets go of the side of the dumpster, landing back on the ground with a soft thud. He calls it in, his normally stoic voice steeped in fear and anger. Fear for his brother’s life and anger at the perpetrator.

After the call is made, Echo makes a second terrifying realization. He looks farther down the alley, scanning it for another life. A second cold wave washes over him. You’re not here. You’re not in the dumpster. You’re not in the alley. You’re nowhere to be found. The thought that you did this to Tup flashes across his mind, but dissipates just as quickly. There’s no way you could do this type of damage to a clone trooper. No, it must have been someone else.

The Coruscant Guard, led by Fox, finally arrive on scene. Flashes of red and blue illuminate the area and the alley is marked off with yellow crime scene tape. Late night bystanders stare in curiosity at the commotion, crowding the corrie guards as they try to keep the public out of the way. Echo gives Fox a rundown of the situation and mentions that you were out with Tup and are now missing. Fox records the information and places a reassuring hand on Echo’s shoulder.

“We’ll find who did this to your brother, and locate the missing girl,” Fox promises.

Echo worries his lip and takes his helmet off, tucking it neatly under his arm. “With all due respect, sir,” Echo begins, pausing for a moment to decide whether he’d like his next words to be a question or a statement, "we’d rather take this one.” He knows they have no jurisdiction on Coruscant and no business taking on local crime, but this is different. This is one of their own. This is their brother. He has to try. He has to find a way for them to be involved, to get revenge.

Fox pauses at the bold statement, his expression hidden behind his helmet. He studies the ARC trooper in front of him, a level of burning passion and rage alight behind his eyes. He can already tell there’s no stopping this clone, or his brothers. Even if he orders them to stay out of it, they’ll never obey, and that will just create more paperwork for him. Fox sighs, hoping he doesn’t regret his decision. He points to his men. “The boys will give you what you need.”

Echo nods his thanks and Fox nods back before returning to his men to explain the new situation. Echo grits his teeth and clenches his bicep around his bucket. He’s angry. No. He’s furious. His brother is lying in a pool of his own blood, straining for air, and walking a thin line between life and death. His only thoughts now are retribution. Whoever did this is going to pay in blood. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and walks back to the alley to check on Fives.

Extricating Tup from the dumpster is no small feat, not with the amount of damage done to his body. The corrie guard had to bring in special tools to take apart the side of the dumpster piece by piece. Fives stays inside the dumpster with Tup and shields him from the sparks as they cut the bolts loose. Once the side of the dumpster is removed, medics work delicately to lift Tup out of the garbage and onto a stretcher. Fives does his best to help, but the medics push him away.

Echo watches the medics work and approaches the hole in the dumpster once Tup is safely removed. He peers inside and sees Fives still kneeling in the garbage, his armor covered in blood. Covered in Tup’s blood. He watches as Fives picks up the flashing comm link that was hidden beneath Tup’s body. He grips it in his hand and chucks it past Echo while yelling in frustration. He pulls his bucket off his head, leaving blood stains behind from his soaked gloves.

“How did this happen?” Fives asks, his voice angry and quivering.

Echo drops his gaze and kicks the ground. He has the same question with the same nonexistent answer. He lifts his gaze back up to meet Fives and offers a hand to help him out of the dumpster. Fives takes a deep breath and grabs his brother’s hand to pull himself up. They both sigh and lean against the wall of the alley, neither knowing what to say. Their silence is broken when Fox comes back around to grab their statements and to let them know he contacted Rex.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the squad to show up. Some in their civvies, some in their armor, and some in gym clothes, but all with worried looks plastered onto their faces. Echo and Fives maneuver out of the alley to greet them, waving back to Fox in thanks for his help. Their brother’s eyes plead for answers, for explanations, for anything that will tell them what’s going on. They see the blood stains on Fives’ armor and murmurs erupt between the clones.

“Maker!” Captain Rex exclaims when he sees Fives. “What happened to you?”

Fives chews on his lip, unsure of what to say when he realizes Fox didn’t tell them what happened. “It’s...” he pauses, the thought forming into a painful crushing weight on his chest. “It’s not mine.”

“Then who’s is it?!” Rex questions vehemently while looking around and doing a mental headcount of his men, desperately trying to figure out which one of them is missing from the ranks.

Fives casts his gaze to the side, unwilling to meet his captain’s anxious and questioning eyes. He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to keep saying it. The amount of times he’s already had to recount what he’s seen is one too many. The words are like poison, slowly peeling away at the layers of his tongue, making it raw with emotion. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. It makes him sick. The words, the smell, and the image twists his gut in discomfort.

“It’s Tup’s,” Echo answers when he notices the distant look in Fives’ eyes. The words are like sharp needles pricking his lips as they exit, leaving a bitter and bloody aftertaste.

Shock sweeps over the group of clones like billowing smoke, stinging their eyes and stealing their breaths. Their respective nights had been interrupted by an emergency comm from Rex notifying them that one of their brother’s was the victim of a crime. Dinners had been left cold, warm beds had been abandoned, and activities had been ditched at a moment's notice. They thought they were prepared for whatever this crime was, but they were wrong, very wrong.

“Hey!” Kix hollers after scanning the area to locate Tup. “That’s my trooper!” He runs over to where the medics are attempting to stabilize Tup for transport and demands a debrief from the lead medic.

The two medics argue back and forth about Tup’s condition and who has jurisdiction. Kix gets in the lead medic’s face, pointing a finger at his chest, and yelling expletives. No one gets in Kix’s way or tries to stop him, because they all feel the same way, the same fear and anger. Fox overhears the heated discussion and intervenes between the two clones before a fight breaks out. He sees the same fire in Kix’s eyes as the ARC trooper and lets him take the lead of the medics on scene.

Fives watches the ordeal and rubs his hand across his chin, pulling at his bottom lip in exasperation, while absent-mindedly leaving a trail of blood across his chin and goatee. Echo notices the striking smear and cringes at his brother’s appearance. He steps in front of Fives and brings his hand up to his twin’s face to wipe it away. Fives leans his head back in resistance to the odd gesture, but the glint in Echo’s eyes convinces him to trust what he’s doing.

“You should change into something else,” Echo mentions as he works to wipe the blood off.

Fives looks down at his armor and a small alarm sets off in the back of his brain. He drops his bucket and looks at his hands, pressing his fingers together while watching the blood ooze from his soaked gloves. He was so wrapped up in helping Tup, he didn’t even notice just how much of his blood was on him, staining him with a constant reminder of his brother’s mutilated body. He rips his gloves off and starts yanking his armor off, stripping like a madman in the street.

He needs it off. All of it. He doesn’t want to see it anymore. He doesn’t want to remember the disgusting images in his head. He’s seen blood before, lots of blood, but not this blood. This blood is different. This isn’t the blood of the faceless enemy, this is the blood of his brother. He claws at his blacks, desperately trying to remove them from his body in a frenzy. Through his hysterical haze, he feels Echo place two firm hands on either of his shoulders and he stops.

Fives looks into Echo’s eyes as Echo breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth. He copies Echo’s breathing, slowly bringing his panicked breath in sync with his brother’s calm breath. Once he settles in the new rhythm, Echo closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Fives’, silently reminding him that he’s not alone and that Tup is still alive and fighting. Fives closes his eyes and lets his mind go blank, mentally preparing himself for what comes next.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Masterlist

A03

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freesia-writes · 4 months

Note

Hey!!! If you're still up for doing the first kiss prompts, I'd love to see 'are you sure about this' with my sweet boy Tup!

❤️❤️❤️

Hiiii! I’m so happy I was finally able to write something for you! Your reblogs and comments and whatnot have been so appreciated for so long! I still feel awkward in my writing but this felt warm and fuzzy, haha, so I hope you enjoy!

Tup x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

SFW, rated teen and up

Divider helmet artwork by @lornaka 💕

Rain pattered against the window as it always did, providing a gentle backdrop to the more sterile sounds of the medical equipment all around you. It had been a long day, working alongside the Kaminoans to evaluate squad after squad of troopers to deem them fit for active duty. You had greatly enjoyed your time on Kamino so far, at least once you got over the initial distaste from the “longnecks” (as the clones called them) at having a GAR medic scientist assigned to their facility. The troopers had blown you away with their unique personalities and incredibly diverse perspectives. While they all looked the same, more or less, you greatly enjoyed watching them develop in leaps and bounds in the short time you knew them — from the day they turned 18 to the day they shipped out, which usually wasn’t too long. That time would be spent in rigorous exercises and specialized training, where troopers would grow into a sense of self and a readiness for the battlefield.

You listened to their stories during their medical exams and fitness tests, growing in your affection for them and resenting more and more this intergalactic war that took so many of them in a seemingly endless demand. And the account from the last trooper you had examined was still playing on repeat in your mind when the door whooshed open and the next patient walked in. Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized that face, distinguished from an early age by a single teardrop tattoo beneath one eye, and the textured brown hair pulled into a tight top knot.

“Tup!” you exclaimed happily, almost too happily… But you couldn’t hide it anyway — the connection the two of you shared had been apparent for some time. He had a quiet way about him, an unusual meekness that also seemed to disappear when he stepped into “soldier mode“, and gentleness and depth that drew you in like a moth to the flame. You had known this day was coming for a long time, even though you didn’t want to believe it.

“Hey, Doc,” he said lightly, though there was a weight to his words. “Time for that final exam.”

“Don’t say it that way!” you said with a forced chuckle, patting the exam table. “I had better see you in here again.”

“I’m sure you will,” Tup answered as he sat sideways on the bed. “People seem to come back with injuries frequently from Umbara. At least that’s what I’ve heard. Although they may just be trying to scare me.”

“Umbara…” you echoed, running an instrument down his spine while you considered his words. “Is that where you’re going?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, closing his eyes for a second as you took his head in your hands to gently tilt it side to side for range of motion tests. Your breath caught in your throat. His eyelashes were so long, his sharp features relaxing gently beneath your touch… The peaks of his upper lip were so perfectly-shaped…

You released his head and stepped back for a moment, shaking your own head as if to clear the thoughts away. His rich golden brown eyes found yours again, a small smile on his face. Did he know? Were you that obvious? Working quickly in an effort to distract yourself, you began placing electrodes on his body in various places.

It didn’t help that you had to reach under his blacks a few times, to place one on his stomach and a few across his chest and back. Your glance flitted from his to the monitors, currently populating with information from the initial scan. Grateful for the distraction, you turned to face them instead.

A creak of the exam table and motion in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and the next thing you knew, Tup was on his feet behind you, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another yet holding your gaze with a surprisingly determined one of his own. He was closer than before, and his formfitting blacks left little to the imagination. He was unassuming and kind, but he was a grown man and a skilled soldier, all of which felt heavily apparent with his close proximity. You even could’ve sworn you caught a whiff of something clean.

“You’re not done yet,” you spluttered, voice betraying you with a hoarse squeak on the last syllable.

“I know,” he said softly. “I was just wondering if I could test your range of motion.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, any further words freezing on your lips as he cupped your face gently with his warm hands. They were soft yet firm, and as he took another small step closer, you could feel the tremble in his arms.

“You know, range of… oh, nevermind…” he grumbled, dropping his hands and running one awkwardly over his head. “I was trying to be witty.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest at the realization, and you grinned helplessly at his flustered admission. Taking a step forward, you reached for his face with a single hand, dancing light fingers along one side of his jaw.

“You are adorably witty,” you murmured, waiting with bated breath to see where this was going. His face broke into a small, hesitant smile, as though he were loath to allow himself to believe it. “But let’s leave the physical therapy to the medics, and maybe you could communicate your feelings another way…”

His chin jerked up as he regarded you with surprise, and for a moment he wondered if you had assumed too much. Was he just being silly? No… The depths of conversation that you two had enjoyed as well as the meaningful looks and playful banter all seemed to point to more than just platonic flirtation. Goaded onward by the urgency of his imminent departure, you took a final step forward to where your bodies were almost touching.

His heart rate had been steadily climbing, the monitor proclaiming this at top volume as the beeping increased with each movement the two of you had made. Your cheeks curved into a smile, watching a slight flush creep across his as he noticed the sound as well. Sending a meaningful look at his lips before returning to his eyes, you waited, not wanting to make the first move.

“You sure about this?” Tup whispered, barely audible above the traitorous medical equipment.

“Yes please,” you answered, as naturally as if you were at a restaurant being asked if you’d like a refill on your water.

He swallowed hard, an irresistible smile on his own face as he lifted a hand to your face again, this time brushing his thumb along your cheek as he hooked his fingers behind your ear. Tilting his head slightly, he brought his lips to yours, pressing them together with such tentative care you thought your heart would burst. Tingles cascaded over you from head to toe, and you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling his warm body against your own.

He lingered for a split second, then pulled away, speechless in the afterglow of a simple, chaste kiss that communicated so much. Ducking his head, he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, looking off to the side.

“That was… um…” he faltered, embarrassed.

“Really nice,” you finished, pulling him into a tight hug. The faintest chuckle rumbled in his chest, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder, relishing the feeling of his arms around you.

“Really nice,” he echoed, and you knew that would not be the last time.

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arcsimper5 · 7 months

Text

Taking Notes

Vampire!Tup incoming!

Dedicating this little bit of spice to @amorfista because Tup is beautiful.

Title: Taking Notes Words: 1721 Pairing: F!Vampire Reader x New Vampire!Tup Rating: R (minors DNI, smut!) Warnings: P in V, unprotected s3x, blood, vampiric feeding, graphic seksual content, master/servant dynamic (if you squint), please let me know if I missed any!

Summary: Tup wakes up needy on his first morning as a newly turned Vampire. You're more than happy to help him out.

“Mesh’la… I need you…”

Breathy words whispered into your ear sent a thrill through you as consciousness slipped back to you, firm hands roaming your body drawing soft moans from your lips.

“Mmmm, morning to you too, Tup.” you cooed, drinking in the sight of his honey brown eyes, pupils blown with lust. He gazed at you like you were his entire universe, plump lips slightly parted as he sucked in a breath.

“Cyare… I’m so hungry,” he panted, hands moving between your thighs, forcing them apart, “let me feed, please?”

A soft chuckle escaped you, body moving to lay on your back of its own accord. The bond you’d created with Tup was strong, his desires flowing through your blood like wildfire in your veins.

You’d known you were going to turn him the moment you laid eyes on him, his passionate nature matched so well with your own.

His very soul called to your own, two halves of a whole, yearning to be united in living death.

Once his episode on Ringo-Vinda had happened, the timetable moved forward, but as he shifted his body to slot against yours, sun-kissed skin sliding across yours so deliciously, you had no regrets.

“You’re going to feel hungry for a while, sweet-thing,” you soothed him, arching against him when his hands moved up to your nipples, teasing the nubs as he rolled his hips against yours, “it’s only natural.”

“But it hurts,” he whined gently, sympathy panging in your chest, “I need you…”

His hands cupped the swell of your breasts, thumbing over the nipples now as his mouth fell to your sternum, kissing and licking a trail up towards your neck, his cock hard between your thighs, leaking precum. He couldn’t hold back a guttural moan as he thrust against you, so close to your core.

“Tup,” you gasped, pressing a hand into his shoulder, lifting him off of you a little so you could meet his needy gaze with your own, the intensity thrumming between you, “it’s our bond. You need more than to feed, my love. We need to connect, to be with each other.”

“Y-Yes, please!” he begged, bucking against you again, his cock so close to your core.

Usually, you wouldn’t indulge this kind of behaviour from a freshly turned mate, but irritation didn’t even form in your mind, Tup’s needy whines and whimpers shooting straight to your core. You’d been wet before you’d even woken up, his touches setting your body alight with desire.

“My poor, sweet Tup,” you breathed, offering a soft smile as he continued to whimper against you, his tongue sweeping over his lips as he pressed his weight against you, desperate to get to your neck, “tell me, how did it feel last night? Your first feed?”

Tup tried to fight your strength, unable to break the firm pressure of your hand on his chest, holding him back. His hands continued to fondle your chest, deft fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples, wanting only the please.

With another deep moan, his eyes fluttered closed, memories of last night flowing between you.

Images of his cock sliding deep inside you as you fed on him played simultaneously for you both as he opened his mind to you, allowing you complete and utter access to his thoughts. The pain, the pleasure, the utter euphoria he’d felt as you drank from him, tonguing over the wound before you offered your bleeding wrist to him, pressing it against his lips.

He’d bucked deep into you, hitting that sensitive, perfect spot he’d come to know so well as he’d drunk, his body seizing and shuddering as it changed, heart slowing and skin cooling, hands coming up to clutch at your arm, feasting on your very essence as he fucked you to his own completion.

“It was pleasure, mine and yours,” he gasped as the images began to flicker away, his amber eyes refocusing on yours, “it was perfection, it was… I gave myself to you, and I… I love you, I will love you, forever, my lady.”

His voice was trembling with more than just memory now, the desperate hunger he was feeling waking another vulnerability in him. You could almost feel the pain flooding through him, every fibre of his being begging him to sink his teeth into your neck, to drink his fill.

“I need you, I need to drink,” he rasped, eyes widening in fear and need, almost overshadowing the constant lust.

Satisfied with his answer, knowing he wasn’t regretting this, you nodded, opening your mouth to reply as you lessened the pressure on his chest.

But no words came, only a guttural moan of pleasure as he felt the hand give in to him, surging forward. In one swift motion, he sheathed his cock inside your tight heat and sank his freshly formed fangs into your neck, pleasure ricocheting through your body.

“O-Oh, Tup, Tup, yes!”

You forced his name out between your moans, hands finding their way to his thick curls, tugging the hairband holding them up away and threading your fingers through them.

He sucked in time with his thrusts, constant, needy moans vibrating against your neck as he drank and fucked, rolling himself against you.

Pulling him closer, you arched into him, his cock filling you so deliciously, the drag of his thick flesh against your inner walls driving you wild.

Without a word, his hands moved to your waist, lifting you up easily and changing your position so you were settled on his lap. His cock never left you, and his mouth never separated from your neck, his hunger still present and gnawing.

It felt utterly amazing, the power growing within him with every swallow he made, drinking your life, your power.

He was perfect, fingers trailing up your back, holding you against him even as you whimpered and writhed and bucked, desperate for more.

The beginnings of a haze tugged at your consciousness, exhaustion sweeping through you. He was drinking you dry, too eager, too hungry for you.

“T-Tup, you, you need to stop, my love,” you urged him softly, knowing how utterly consumed he was with his first proper drink, how good it felt. Tugging at his hair, you let out a sigh of mixed relief and disappointment when his tongue lathed over the small wounds on your skin, sealing them.

When he pulled away, his eyes were glowing a beautiful yellow, pupils still blown, lips stained with your blood and swollen. He looked positively gorgeous, your pleasure still growing as he gasped for breath.

“I, I’m so sorry,” he started, silenced when you slammed your mouth against his, intertwining your tongues without hesitation.

Letting out a moan at the taste of yourself in his mouth, you could do nothing but clutch at his shoulders and gasp into his mouth as he rolled his hips once more, setting a punishing pace.

He bounced you on his cock, muttering praises and words of adoration into your mouth until he couldn’t take any more, his cock twitching inside you.

“Cyare, b-bite me, feed on me, p-please!”

You didn’t need any convincing. Baring your fangs, you kissed his pulse point before sinking them into the tender flesh, relishing in the way the skin gave way so easily for you.

The sweet taste of him flooded your mouth while his cry of ecstasy filled your ears, two more deep thrusts inside you until he spilled himself, hands clutching at your hips.

And yet, he still did not stop seeking your pleasure, continuing to ride out his orgasm as one hand slipped between your bodies, seeking your clit.

The feeling of his fingertip drawing perfect circles on your swollen bud, along with the warmth now filling you, leaking between your thighs with every thrust, and the pleasure of drinking your love created a maelstrom of utter decadence in your body, swelling until it burst in a glorious orgasm, more powerful than any you’d experienced before.

Tup cried out again as you convulsed around him, your moans muffled against his neck as you drank what you needed, tonguing the wound for a few, precious moments before you pulled away once more, licking the last traces of him from your lips.

“K-Kriff, th-that was, incredible,” he gasped, collapsing against you. His forehead pressed against your shoulder as he held you close, relishing the feeling of your closeness. His softening flesh remained inside you, your bodies still connected on a primal level, the spent muscle twitching still as he came down from his high. “Is, is it always like that?”

“With you? Yes,” you replied without missing a beat, letting your body slump against his in return. Fingertips danced back up to his hair, playing with the curls and tugging lightly, whimpering moans drawn out into the heavy, sex-scented air of your bedroom. “Though I’ve never had it be that… intense,” you admitted, feeling more than seeing Tup’s grin against your skin.

“That good, huh?” he teased, earning himself a soft nip on the shoulder. He shuddered in response, biting back a moan and a plea for you to drink from him again. Guilt flashed across his mind suddenly, memories of him feeding a little too vigorously swirling between you.

“I’m sorry I got carried away,” he murmured, eyes averted. He was genuinely ashamed, no small measure of fear in his voice, “I never meant to hurt you, I…”

Shushing him with a lift of your head and a press of your lips to his, the apologies melted into sighs of pleasure, his tongue tangling lazily with yours.

“It is a lesson learned,” you whispered against his lips, shivering in delight when his cock began to harden inside you once more, his deft fingers tracing your spine as you kissed, every inch he touched electrified with desire, “and besides, I have a lifetime to teach you how to behave.”

Tup hummed in response, the wicked glint you’d fallen in love with so hard at first returning to his eyes, the colour shifting back to his normal, gorgeous chestnut brown.

“Is that so?”

Whatever retort you had prepared was lost to another cry of pleasure as he rolled his hips yet again, his hardening cock pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside you.

“I’ll start taking notes.”

#Star Wars Halloween Fic #clone thirsting #clone trooper tup x reader #tcw #star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #clone wars #tcw tup #vampire Tup #Vampire fic #monster!au #tup x reader #tup x you #daniwrites

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wanderinginksplot · 10 months

Text

Tup

Tup is one of the younger members of the 501st. He shares the loyalty common to his brothers, but is still trying to figure out some of the things they don’t teach you on Kamino.

Tup + Teaching Mechanics - Tup x gn!reader - 1.7k words. Tup has a passion for mechanical technology, but he’s never had the chance to explore that passion. You let him talk to you about it.

Tup + Hospital - Tup x fem!reader (not human, but humanoid) - 3.5k words. Reader is at the end of a long line of doctor’s appointments and your doctor finally diagnoses you with endometriosis. You struggle to come to terms with that fact. Tup helps you through it.

Tup + Slow-Dancing - Tup x gn!reader - 4k words. Tup comes to you with a problem: he wants to ask out a civilian, but he doesn’t know how to dance. You’re happy to help.

Tup + Armor-Fitting - Tup x gn!reader - 3.4k words. You run into Tup while being fitted for armor of your own. He’s fresh from a mission on which he impressed most of his brothers. In between affectionate teasing from them, he tries to get to know you.

Now Boarding - various 501st members x fem!readers - 42.6k words. Eight interconnected stories about members of the 501st meeting the group of women who have been brought aboard the Resolute to fill various jobs.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #clone trooper tup #tup #tup x reader #tup x you #reader insert fic #reader insert #wanderinginksplot's masterlist #masterlist update #ink's fics #now boarding fic #now boarding #star wars fanfiction #sw tcw #sw tcw fanfic

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thefact0rygirl · 2 years

Note

Hi! For the Kinktober requests, could you maybe do DAY 9: Sixty-nine with Tup x Reader? Either way, I'm very much looking forward to reading your Kinktober content!

hello, my friend! thank you for sending this in, tup needs more attention! hope you enjoy 💙

positions | tup x fem!reader

Kinktober Day 9: Sixty-nine

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 69, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, cum eating

It’s new. It’s different.

“Don’t worry,” Tup coos. You turn around to see his smiling eyes peaking out from behind you. “I’ve got you. Just lean back.”

You’re on top of him, your spread thighs spread wide to cradle his head. Everything is backwards from this new angle, but the comforting warmth of Tup against you calms you. Because this isn’t some random hook-up, it’s Tup. He’s good at that sort of thing, putting you at ease. He makes you feel safe even when you’re an awkward position as this one.

There is no dishonesty in his face and no bribery in his movements as he helps guide your hips against his face. You still want to ask him how this was going to work — did you start at the same time or do you? Or is he taking the lead? — but all thoughts are shattered when his fingers trail down the perimeter of your cunt, stopping to spread you open.

“Fuck,” He rumbles between your legs. “You look so good. Can’t wait to...”

And he really can’t.

He cuts himself off to run the flat of his tongue along your slit up to your clit. You gasp, the sensation making your back straighten, a low moan of his name burning from your lips.

You take him in, from his thick thighs to the dark dust of hair trailing from his belly button to his cock. With one hand resting on his thigh for stability, you wrap another around the base of his cock. With the feeling on him growing harder in your grasp and the swirls of his tongue against your clit, you bend forward to tease his swelling head past your lips. The bitter taste of precum seeps over your tongue as his own mouth sends little zaps of pleasure through your spine.

While awkward at first, you both soon find a playful rhythm. It's like an unspoken game — who will come first? Tup has the patience and focus of a clone trooper, and you know what to do to make Tup fall apart. You take him further in your mouth, slowly while stroking his base, until you feel the blunt head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. It's then that you moan, letting the sound vibrate through his cock until he too is moaning against your cunt.

"Y—you sure you’ve never done this before?” He asks between licks.

You shake your head, moaning a"no" as you continue to bob up and down on his length. A shudder courses through the man below you, a firm hand digs into the flesh of your ass cheeks, needing and squeezing as Tup resumes licking you. Now and then, his tongue creeps away from your clit, dipping into your entrance to lap up your wetness.

The tightness building in your stomach starts to prickle with each lick and flick from Tup. With your mouth satisfying full, you meet his moving mouth, sucking and licking at his cock as more precum drips down your throat. Through the fog of arousal, you hear him groaning, his moans meeting with praise as he slips a finger into your dripping center.

“Fuck, you’re being so good to me. Wish I could see how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth…”

With another finger slipping into your cunt and his mouth wrapping back around your clit, your focus starts to dwindle. It's the building pressure in your core, his praise, the subtle bucking of his hips that make your want to reach the approaching curve, make a sharp turn, and tumble into the pit of pleasure. If the increasing roll of his hips and the more desperate strokes of his tongue are any indication, Tup is approaching that curve, as well.

You're losing yourself in the cadence as you grind back into his face. You need just a little bit more, you're almost there. Tup obliges, sucking hard on the sensitive bundle of nerves. And just like that, the crescendo of your orgasm takes over the room, flooding you with a wave of pleasure as you moan.

Tup follows right after you, his muffled moans joining your whimpers in a chorus of euphoria. His balls tightening, his dick stiffening further, as he fills your mouth with his thick release. You swallow as much as you can while still riding the waves of your orgasm.

When the frantic squeezing of your walls settles to lingering flutters and Tup's cock is spent, you rest your cheek against his warm thigh. He runs a soothing hand up and down your thigh before muttering, "Come here."

He sits up, helping you readjust until you're cradled in his arms. A trickle of his cum drips down your chin as Tup cradles your cheek. Bending down, his tongue peaks out to lick up his own release before kissing you.

“So,” he begins, his voice airy, but satisfied. “I wouldn't mind doing that again.”

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

#tup x reader #clone trooper tup x reader #tup x you #tup x y/n #clone trooper tup x you #clone trooper tup fanfic #nsfios #kinktober 2022 #kinktober 22 #thefactorygirlkinktober2022

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wild-karrde · 7 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/vodika-vibes/729168036971626496/more-than-friends?source=share

when I say this is the best and my most favorite Tup fic I've ever read!!! he isn't reduced to stereotypes like only caring about his hair or being naive or shy, he's so human and so real and his feelings are nuanced, and he's just so sweet but in a realistic way. idk how to explain it, but I loved this fic to pieces

This is SO SOFT and FLUFFY. I am SUCH a sucker for the "friends to lovers" trope, particularly when the two individuals are close and have a relationship built on trust, and I think @vodika-vibes did such a lovely job with this one. I adore how careful Tup is and how he doesn't push or press and is still gentle with reader. Thanks for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #fic rec #fanfiction #fan fic #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper tup #tup x reader #tup x you #friends to lovers #fluff

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sinfulsalutations · 10 months

Note

What do you think each of your favorite clones’ guilty pleasure is? SFW and NSFW? 🤣

𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥𝕪 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕩 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕦𝕡 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕙 + 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕗𝕖

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʀᴇx, ᴛᴜᴘ, ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ, ᴛᴇᴄʜ, ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇx

⋆ ★ ᴏʜ, ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄʟᴏɴᴇꜱ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʀɪᴅɪᴄᴜʟᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴄᴋ… ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ɪ’ʟʟ ɢᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴇx, ᴛᴜᴘ, ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ, ᴛᴇᴄʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ!

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Rex

SFW: Likes to be bathed or taken care of in the bath. While it doesn’t happen often, he loves it when you sit on his lap and scrub off the dirt on his skin, slowly massage soap onto his scalp and soothe him. Rex is not used to being taken care of or sitting back and just allowing things to happen without at least a little control, so it’s hard for him personally to come to terms with just how much he likes it, as well as even indulge himself too much when he gets the chance too.

NSFW: He wanted to record you two going at it to watch while he’s away for some time. You’d already sent him photos of yourself, domestic videos of you doing simple tasks, but none very vulgar. Now that he does have that recording, he watches it so damn much. One of his favorite ways to wind down after a hard day. Not that he’ll really admit it…

Tup

SFW: This boy LOVES self-care days. If he has the chance, he’ll beg to do one. Paint each other's nails, wear face masks, braid hair in intricate patterns, moisturize, he lives for it. It's just an excellent way of doing the little things to keep his spirits up, expressing his own self-worth, and showing how much you’re worth it. As well as just having some sweet bonding time with his cyare.

NSFW: Loves receiving a lot. He doesn't really ask for it necessarily, and don't get me wrong, making you buck into his face and gasp from all the pleasure he's giving you is still one of his favorite things to do. He just also really enjoys sitting back and watching the person he loves on their knees, doing their utmost to please him and make him feel good. Also, Maker have you perfected it. The moment he sees you slowly sink down he's already anticipating the filthy noises that will leave his mouth.

Crosshair

SFW: MASSIVE sweet tooth. It's his guilty pleasure for a few reasons. Firstly, well, it's unhealthy of course. They also don't get those kinds of pleasures or indulgences as a soldier. But if he gets a chance? He's gonna munch on some sour candy like a child on Halloween. It's a pretty interesting, delightful sight.

NSFW: Crosshair really, really likes it when you ride him. You rarely do it, mostly because he just can't give up that much control to you, albeit anyone, but on the rare occasions he allows it, Maker he comes so fast. You look so damn sexy on top of him, commanding his movements and taking pleasure for yourself equally without his say being a large contributor. For once, he's not in control, he's in your hands and so vulnerable and desperate... it rubs the strangest parts of his mind.

Tech

SFW: This feels a little obvious, but sleeping late. Tech knows it's bad for him, but he just gets so much work done! His brothers aren't up distracting or pestering him, he can be left to his own devices to stray from the task at hand and deviate to another interest of his own volition, it's great! ...Yeah, you have to drag him to bed all the time.

NSFW: 👏Tie👏him👏up! Tech's hands are the most dexterous part of him and give him so much control over things- including you. And if you tie him up and render him subject to whatever you want to do, he becomes a whimpering mess. He'll suddenly be begging for any salvation, bucking his hips up and attempting to grind against you `cause you're just that damn sexy to him.

Wolffe

SFW: Obsessed with holo dramas. Once you caught him screaming at the holo because apparently, the leading lady had made an unwise decision between the two men she was in a love triangle with, and when you asked him about it he immediately denied it. You didn't catch him watching it after that but saw him discreetly trying to find times when he thought you were asleep or working. So then you pretended that you showed interest in the drama to make him feel less bad about watching it. So now you always catch up on the latest episodes when he returns from a dispatch.

NSFW: Enjoys it when you make sorts of animalistic noises in bed. He hasn't expressed it directly, but you're beginning to catch on. He likes to sprinkle on some extra praise if you yelp or howl like a hurt puppy dog, give him those sickly eyes and whimper. And he always comes a little too hard, even letting a few growls rupturing in his stomach out to bless your ears. So in conclusion Wolffe is a furry

a/n: definitely gonna do more of these with other characters, this was really fun! if you guys have any other characters you'd like to see with these headcanons, let me know :) ~ @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm

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sev-on-kamino · 11 months

Text

You: Hey, Tup, how do you say ‘will you go out with me’ in Mando’a?

Tup: *says it in Mando’a*

You: Absolutely, I will. Thought you’d never ask.

Tup: 🤯…🥰

Fives: 🤯

Jesse: 🤯

Fives: Write that down! Write that down!

Jesse: *scribbling it down as fast as he can*

#501st shenanigans #tcw tup x reader #tcw tup x you #tcw tup #clone trooper tup #tcw fives #tcw jesse #arc trooper fives #arc trooper jesse #the clone wars incorrect quotes #the clone wars #reader insert #incorrect star wars quotes #star wars clone wars #incorrect clone wars quotes

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fvck-the-patriarchy · 10 months

Text

Y/n: I hate you sometimes.

Fives: Well according to this picture Tup drew of us holding hands that's not true.

Y/n: Fives, you drew that.

Fives: It doesn't matter.

#clone wars incorrect quotes #star wars incorrect quotes #incorrect star wars quotes #incorrect clone wars quotes #clone wars x reader #clone wars #star wars #tcw fives #tcw tup #clone trooper tup #swtcw #fives x reader #fives x you #clone trooper fives

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yandere-wishes · 4 months

Note

I just found a love in your almost cult yandere clone tropes and their cyares with the Jedi blessings. I mean damn you (later than ever). I'm imagining Cody and Rex and the bad batch. Or just Cody sharing with 😉 .

You made sprout the cult follower in me.

Here at Yandere-Wishes HQ, we try to inspire the inner cult follower in all our fans. We want the dark, deranged side of all our clients to shin through and someday even start cults of their own. 💜💜

I'm very sorry for how all over the place this is, tried to section it off as best I could. I'm still incredibly jet lagged😭😭

I think the reason behind the Jedi giving their blessing so freely to the clones comes from an inner yearning to be loved. The Jedi know their place in the universe, know that a sentiment-free life is what they must endure. Still, if those around them can be happy, then (in a selfless way befitting a Jedi) they can be happy too. Although I'm rather curious as to what would happen if say Anakin or Obi-wan fell for the cyare of their commanders.

Personally, I think Rex and Cody would definitely share a darling. Same with Echo and Fives (and maybe Tup too). Maybe if you REALLY want to lean into the cult aesthetic Anon, then what if each squadron has its own cyare?? A darling shared amongst all of them (That's a lot but I'm kinda only referring to the relevant troopers from each squadron 🤣🤣) it would be super cute if all her dresses were in said squadron's colors. Kinda like a personal cheerleader for them. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself here lol.

🧡💙Being Cody and Rex's darling.

💙They're both very busy men. Constantly being deployed to the front lines. Always busy with some mission or another. They've tried to make sure at least one of them is with you, so you're never alone. It doesn't work, there are always long periods of time when you are trapped in isolation.

🧡I truly believe that Rex and Cody's cyare wouldn't really "feel" like a "cyare", per se. Sure she doesn't have any freedom and is never permitted to make any decisions on her own. But they treat her so well, give her anything she could ever want, and they never hurt her in any way.

💙Rex and Cody are both strict, not much leniency coming from either one. They have strict rules for they're cyare, under the pretext of keeping her safe. They've seen and experienced all the cruelties of the galaxy. And they don't want ANYTHING to ever hurt you.

🧡Cody is more affectionate. More open with embracing and kissing you. Rex is much more reserved, stiffer. Yet he can't help but melt whenever your lips push against his.

501st sharing (Rex, Fives,Echo, Tup, Jesse, Hardcase and Kix)

It's honestly exhausting belonging to all of them. Constantly being pulled in every direction. Sure the 501st is one of the gentler squadrons per se. But they are smoldering, constantly wanting to touch you in some way. It also doesn't help that regardless of the mission one of them is left behind to "watch" you. Not so much out of a fear of you running away but more out of concern for your well-being. I wonder what would happen if Anakin began to develop feelings for this particular cyare.

As for the bad batch I've yet to watch it (Although I've only heard good things) So I can't make a full observation just yet. Although I'd like to think that Hunter and Wrecker are on the "tougher" side, using force to make their cyare submit. Tech falls more into the stalker category. Take all this with a grain of salt, these ideas will 100% change once I've actually seen the show.

.... All this aside can you imagine Obi-Wan and Cody sharing a darling?? Or even Anakin and Rex sharing a darling?? I mean every cult needs its leader right 😉😘

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 8 months

Text

A Man's Worth

Tup x Fem!Reader

Chapter 3: Death in the Twilight

Pairing: Tup x Fem!Reader

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

Word Count: 6.6k

Author’s Note: This is probably the quickest I've ever updated a fic, but that's only because the chapter was already written. However, I did edit it so it connects better with the previous one. Beware, this chapter is pure angst. No fluffiness in sight! The next chapter will be a little slow to come out, since I haven't written it yet. Also, there may be a fifth chapter because I can't seem to stop. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta Read: By the lovely @commander-sunshine!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

It’s cold, so very cold, and wet. Where did all this water come from? Tup wonders. He tries to move his body away from the cold and wet feeling, but none of his limbs obey his mental commands. Why can’t I move? The tips of his toes begin to tingle, and the odd sensation travels up his legs and torso, eventually spreading into every nook and cranny of his body, like water filling an empty vessel. The tingle turns into a throb, then an ache, and finally into a burning fire.

He feels the weight of something crushing his chest and his breath is stolen. Why can’t I breathe? Where did my lungs go? He tries to open his mouth to scream for help, but it also won’t listen to his commands. Is he even in his body right now? He tries to remember where he is and why he’s there. It’s dark, pitch dark, and silent, like a stasis of being. An ominous and unnerving thought nags at the back of his mind, but it refuses to be caught into his consciousness.

Suddenly, a bright light breaks through the darkness, but it looks cold. It doesn’t look like the light he imagined the call of death would resemble. Wait… Death? Am I dead? He tries to remember, but the picture in his mind is fractured like puzzle pieces dumped onto a floor. Parts of a whole scattered across a vast and never-ending expanse. His remaining thoughts are pierced by a loud noise. He wants to cover his ears from the ringing but he can’t. His eyes finally open.

The artificial lights are bright and his vision is blurry. The constant beeping sound stabs into his skull. His head is swirling as his mind fails to comprehend where he is. It’s too bright. It’s too loud. He attempts to take a breath, but he can’t. He tries to move his hands, but he can’t. He tries to speak, but he can’t. Panic sets in and the beeping sound becomes louder and faster, pounding further and deeper into his head. All he wants is for someone to make it stop.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a muffled and calm voice breaks through his panicked haze. “Easy vod’ika. Udesii. Calm down.”

Tup’s mind is a swirling mess of confusion and incoherent thoughts. He can’t place the voice, and he doesn’t care who it belongs to as long as they make the noise stop. He needs help. He needs the voice to help him. His body won’t move and his lungs won’t work. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I move my legs? Why can’t I move my arms? Tup struggles weakly against his confines, desperately attempting to move something, anything, but a set of firm hands stops him.

“Tup,” the muffled voice becomes clearer and is more stern than before. The figure stands over him, blocking out the bright lights overhead, while waving a hand across his vision. “Look at me.”

Tup blinks to try and clear away his blurry vision. He sees the dark outline of a face, but he can’t make out who it belongs to. He feels something odd, then his stomach lurches and he stifles a cough against his teeth as he feels a long tube being pulled out of the inside of his body and neck. The feeling is startling and uncomfortable, but nothing he can’t handle. He tries to take a deep breath now, but he can’t. Why can’t he breathe? Why won’t the blurry man let him breathe?

“Tup, breathe through your nose,” the soothing voice commands. “Focus on breathing through your nose.”

Tup blinks harder and the picture becomes clear. It’s Kix. He wonders what Kix is doing here. He tries to ask him, but he can’t open his mouth. Why can’t he open his mouth? The new realization sets in. He can’t open his mouth, which is why he can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. A fresh wave of panic washes over him and that incessant beeping noise gets louder and faster again. The beeping matches the rhythm of his heart and it pounds into his head like a stake.

“You’re giving me no choice,” Kix sighs as he grabs a small syringe off the counter. “I need you to calm down and breathe through your nose.” He takes the syringe and injects the contents into the IV attached to Tup’s neck.

Tup feels a rush of warm liquid travel to the ends of his extremities. He sees stars and his body lightens as he becomes a little drowsy. His heartbeat begins to slow and the beeping of the heart monitor follows the new rhythm. As his nerves settle, he starts breathing disjointedly through his nose. Kix looks in his eyes and breathes with him, trying to have him match his rhythm. A slow inhale and a slow exhale, over and over again, until Tup is breathing at his own pace.

“That’s it,” Kix praises softly. “You’re doing great.”

As his body falls deeper and deeper into a relaxed state, Tup tries to ask Kix what’s going on, but he still can’t open his mouth. His eyes grow wide, but his body won’t let him fall into another panic episode. He eyes Kix and tries to communicate that he can’t open his mouth, but Kix doesn’t catch on to his attempts at telepathy. Instead, Kix sits in the chair next to the hospital bed, throws his head back, and sighs in relief. Tup is confused at his actions and waits for him to speak.

Kix picks his head back up and leans toward the bed. “Thank the Maker, you're finally awake.”

Tup furrows his brow in confusion, the only body part he can seem to move at the moment.

“You gave us quite the scare,” Kix chuckles lightheartedly.

Tup doesn’t know what Kix is talking about.

“You didn’t wake up after your surgery,” Kix explains as he leans back in the chair and rubs his forehead. “And to be honest, we weren’t sure if you would wake up at all. It’s been Five rotations.”

Tup’s eyes widen with the startling news, but the pieces of his memory are still scattered.

“You have multiple fractures in both legs, your left arm, several cracked ribs, internal bleeding, a skull fracture, and a broken jaw,” Kix continues to explain. “We were able to reconnect most of the broken pieces during surgery and repair the internal bleeds.”

Tup’s breathing quickens at the laundry list of injuries he’s unsure how he got.

“I had to wire your jaw shut too,” Kix notes as he realizes he should have mentioned that piece of information first since he’s been talking to himself for the entirety of the conversation. “Which is why you can’t open your mouth and need to breathe through your nose. I also had to intubate you using a trach in your throat because you stopped breathing eight times, but I removed that when you woke up.”

Tup’s mind goes numb with all the information. Some pieces are clicking back together as he now understands why he can’t speak or why he had so much trouble breathing. He still doesn’t remember how he received such severe injuries that warranted this much medical intervention. As he studies Kix’s face for more answers, he can see the dark circles under his eyes and his hair threatening to cover the tattoo on the side of his head. He looks burnt out and exhausted.

“Also, you’re in traction,” Kix adds as he rubs the back of his neck. “Basically, you’re immobile. Well, except for your head and your right hand, but I restrained both just in case you had an intense reaction when you woke up. Glad I did too. I didn’t need you pulling your breathing tube out.”

Tup stares into Kix’s eyes, trying to communicate all his observations and questions to him, but has no luck.

Kix can see the searching look in Tup’s eyes as they dart around. He cocks his head to the side at the obvious dilemma and thinks for a moment. “If I remove the restraints,” Kix begins with hesitation, “will you promise not to do anything stupid? Blink twice for yes or once for no.”

Tup blinks twice in response. What could he possibly do with one hand?

Kix walks around to the other side of the medical bed and undoes the restraint holding Tup’s right hand securely to the rail. Tup slowly moves his arm, rolls his wrist, and expands and contracts his fingers to gauge their function. Kix then removes the strap holding his head in place and eyes Tup suspiciously for a moment. Once he’s satisfied with his patient's calm demeanor, he places a data-pad down next to his free hand. “Type what you want to ask me,” Kix says.

Tup carefully turns his head to the side to look at the data-pad and taps on the letters slowly with his fingers. The data-pad, like most, has a text to voice feature, so after he types the words, the built-in voice reads them to Kix.

What happened?

“You don’t remember?” Kix asks with a raised eyebrow.

No.

“Great,” Kix sighs as he grabs his own data-pad with Tup’s medical chart pulled up. He scrolls through some information and makes a few notes. “I’ll add concussion to the list.”

What happened?

“Based on the holo-recording Fox gave us,” Kix begins to explain in a serious tone, not bothering to look up from his data-pad. “You picked a fight with a clone serial killer and miraculously survived.”

Tup knits his brows in confusion as he tries to remember the events, but everything is fuzzy.

Show me.

Kix looks up from his data-pad and frowns. “That’s not a good idea.”

Tup slaps his hand down on the data-pad, his only way of showing emotion. He wants to see it. He wants to see what happened because he can’t remember any of it. He knows he’s forgetting something important and it’s clawing at the back of his mind like an animal trying to escape a cage. He tries to think back to the events that led him here, but the fog is too thick to see through. He gets glimpses, flashes of light, pricks of pain, and sounds that drift along like strangled chords.

Kix crosses his arms and weighs the pros and cons. On one hand the footage could jog his memory, but it’s also disturbing, and watching himself get brutally beaten could put Tup in a state of panic. Kix grumbles to himself but gives in. If things go south, he can always sedate him. Kix swipes through his data-pad and pulls up the footage the Corrie Guard sent over the night they found Tup. He hesitates, but holds the data-pad up for Tup to see and presses play.

Tup watches as the silent recording starts out with an empty alley. As the holo-cam footage rolls further, he sees himself come into view with a woman behind him. A woman? Who is she? The heart monitor starts beeping faster as his thoughts start reeling, trying desperately to remember. Something is coming back to him, but it’s still too vague to connect, like an extension cord that’s too short. If only he had more length. Kix looks up at the monitor and back down at Tup’s face.

His breathing quickens through his nose as he watches himself fight the monstrosity of man in the footage. Then it happens, his fist gets caught. He feels a twinge in his left hand. He may not remember, but his body does. His body remembers all of it. He continues to watch as his limbs are snapped in half and the woman in the footage cowers against the alley. It’s there. It’s on the tip of his tongue. If he could vomit it out, he would. The name. The name of the woman.

A shooting pain strikes like lightning across the back of Tup’s head. He brings his right hand up to touch it out of reflex, but Kix grabs it before it can make contact. Tup looks up at Kix and Kix shakes his head as a warning. Tup’s face scrunches at the shooting pain. He wants to yell, but the most he can do is grunt incoherently through his wired jaw. The pain is excruciating. He wants to keep watching to see what happens to the woman, but Kix pulls it away before it ends.

“That’s enough for now,” Kix says. He rummages through a drawer and pulls out a small vial and a new syringe. “This will help with the pain.” Kix pushes the medicine through the IV and sits back in the chair with his data-pad on his lap.

After a few seconds, Tup starts to feel relief from the stabbing pain in his head and relaxes again. He flips the holo-footage through his mind like pages in a book, roving over them as he tries to understand the whole picture. Little pieces begin to creep back into his mind. Pain. So much pain. The sound of his own screaming resounds in his mind like an alarm bell. Then a face. A face that’s very important to him. A face that he’s desperately trying to remember.

“You’ll be happy to know that he’s been eliminated,” Kix says with a reassuring smile. Tup is pulled from his wandering thoughts. “And she’s safe.”

Tup scrunches his brows together and forces his brain to think. She. Who is she? He closes his eyes and tries to remember, searching the recesses of his mind. Then he hears it. The sound of your voice, broken and terrified. A sound he thought he could never forget, but he did. He forgot about you. The memories of your life together flood into his mind like a broken dam. The sound of you crying and the sound of you begging that monster to let him go, it churns his stomach.

It’s all backwards. He was supposed to protect you, but ultimately, you protected him. This isn’t right. None of it. What is wrong with him? Why couldn’t he take him? Why couldn’t he protect you? What kind of soldier does that make him? What kind of a man does that make him? The destructive thoughts infect his mind, taking root in every corner of his psyche, smashing his pride and crushing his ego into little tiny pieces of worthless dust. A failure, that’s what he is.

Kix watches and waits for Tup to respond to the good news, but he doesn’t. The lack of response concerns Kix for a moment, but perhaps the pain medicine was a little much for his system and he didn’t hear him the first time. “He’s dead and she’s safe,” Kix repeats a little louder.

How?

Kix finds the first question odd, but he rolls with it. “Fives, Echo, and Jesse went on a manhunt, killed him, and rescued her,” Kix begins to explain.

Tup rolls his eyes, and Kix takes notice. Of course someone else had to save his girlfriend, Arc troopers no less. The strongest and bravest of all the clones. Tup scoffs at himself in his mind, thinking about his pathetic attempt at protecting you and then failing in the most horrific way possible. Not only did his girlfriend have to bribe the offender to let him go, but he can’t even get the satisfaction of killing the scum himself. It’s humiliating, another man finishing his fight and saving his woman.

“Even with the three of them in full kit, it wasn’t easy to take him down,” Kix explains further. He realizes that something isn’t right with Tup’s reaction. He can’t fully place it, but he has a hunch, and it has him worried. “According to Fives, he took a blaster shot to the chest and kept moving. I’m still baffled how you went up against this guy alone and survived with no protection.”

Luck.

Kix chuckles half-heartedly at the short answer. “Must be.”

Who was he?

Kix pauses and wonders where this line of question is leading. “They ran him through facial recognition and it turns out he was known as the Clone Killer,” Kix explains with a shocked expression. “He was wanted in several planetary systems for killing at least fifty clones, but he’s dead now. Fives made sure of that.”

Tup huffs through his nose and Kix furrows his brows. Of course it was Fives. He doesn’t want to hear about the ARC trooper’s heroic rescue of his girlfriend or how Fives killed the man responsible. They’re probably already dating each other at this point if he’s been unconscious for five rotations. He doesn’t blame her. He wouldn’t want to be with him either, seeing as he’s so useless. She’s better off with an ARC trooper protecting her. She’s better off without him.

“She’s here if you want to see her,” Kix mentions with a smile in an attempt to cheer him up and bring the conversation back to being about you.

No.

“No?” Kix questions. Now he’s really confused and concerned about what’s going on in Tup’s brain. “What do you mean, no?”

No.

“You do remember who she is, right?” Kix asks, double checking that the concussion didn’t wipe out all of his memories.

Yes.

“Then why don’t you want to see her?” Kix continues, still shocked by Tup’s apathetic responses.

Tup doesn’t answer, but instead looks away from Kix. He doesn’t want his brother to see the humiliation and embarrassment growing on his face. He doesn’t have to explain his reasoning. He doesn’t have to share his deepest fears or his radical insecurities that all of a sudden moved in and kicked his old confident self out. This is his problem, his fight, and his battle. His other fight was stolen from him, so this one he’s going to keep all to himself and wage on his own.

Kix raises an eyebrow and studies Tup for a moment, his hunch becoming more and more apparent at the silent treatment he’s receiving. “Oh, I see,” Kix says knowingly while crossing his arms. “Your pride got hurt, didn’t it? Because you couldn’t save your girlfriend and someone else did.”

Tup turns his head and glares at Kix as he sees right through him. Kix’s intuition and blatant disregard for his privacy makes him angry. His reasons are none of Kix’s business. How dare he say it out loud with such disdain in his voice, mocking him as he lies helpless in a hospital bed. He didn’t ask to be saved and he didn’t ask for Kix to psychoanalyze his private thoughts. This whole situation is ridiculous, meaningless, and he wants to be left alone.

“I don’t see what you’re so upset about,” Kix says in bewilderment. “You walked away from this with your life. You could’ve died.”

Should have.

Kix rubs his hand across his mouth and huffs in disbelief. He gets up from his chair, walks to the side of the bed, and lowers his face down to be eye to eye with Tup. “You listen to me and you listen well,” Kix begins with a stern voice. “I didn’t save your life so you could lie here and brood about your fragile masculinity. I don’t care about your feelings and I don’t care about your pride or your dignity or your ego. I only care that your heart keeps beating and your lungs keep breathing. So suck it up trooper.”

Tup scrunches his face into the best sneer he can make in response to Kix’s fiery words.

“So, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” Kix says as he straightens up and shakes his head. “Well, I’ll let everyone know you’re awake and that you don’t want any visitors. Rex and the others have only been sitting in that waiting room for five rotations waiting for you to wake up, but by all means, wallow here alone in your own self-pity.”

Kix turns to leave and Tup throws the data-pad at his back. It hits without much force and clatters against the tiled floor.

Kix takes a deep breath, whips around, and glares back at Tup in anger. “I swear, if you weren’t already broken, I’d break you myself!”

Kix grabs the data-pad off the floor and lays it on the counter. He then leaves the room, slams the door behind him, and leans his back against it. He sighs and brings his hands up to rub his face. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, traumatic injuries never are, but he wasn’t expecting this type of reaction, and definitely not to this severity level. If this is any indication of how the rest of the recovery will be, it’s going to be a hard-fought and bumpy road for everyone.

Kix thinks about his options and decides the next best course of action is to let everyone know Tup’s awake and alert. He meanders his way through the sterile hallways, medics and orderlies rushing past him as he thinks about how to explain Tup’s condition. He can use all his medical knowledge and verbiage to make it sound less impactful, or he can just come out and say it and wait for the shock factor to wear off, like ripping a bandaid off.

He rounds the corner to the waiting room, pauses, and takes a step back into the corridor. He smiles fondly. A sea of white and blue all tangled together with you at the center. You’re sitting sideways in one of the waiting room chairs, head leaning against Rex’s shoulder with your legs outstretched on Jesse’s lap. Jesse, Echo, and Fives are leaning against each other, while Hardcase and Dogma are leaning peacefully against Rex.

The image is almost too pure to disturb so he pulls out his data-pad to snap a holo-photo of the moment. Maybe showing it to Tup will help him understand how valued and loved he truly is. Kix looks at the holo-photo and smiles. They may be clones, and viewed as a subhuman species to most, but their bond as brothers is the strongest force in the universe. No one messes with one of their brothers and gets away with it. If no one else will protect them, they must do it themselves.

Kix sighs and braces himself to deliver the news. He walks into the waiting room, approaches Rex, and gently rouses him from his sleep. Rex blinks and straightens himself up to stretch his shoulders, which starts a cascading effect of waking the others around him. You stir as your head dips from Rex moving his shoulder, which causes you to kick Jesse and wake him. One by one, each trooper stirs from their slumber and stretches out their cramped bodies.

“What’s the news?” Rex sleepily asks as he rubs his face.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Kix asks in return.

You startle at the idea of bad news, but Kix stretches out his hand to assure you that the bad news isn’t terrible news. You still wonder what kind of bad news you’re up against. Ever since you were taken, your only reality was that Tup was dead, but after your rescue, you had hope that he was going to survive. “What’s the good news?” you ask, thinking that it will help you get through whatever bad news may come next.

“Tup is awake, alert, and he doesn’t seem to have any permanent brain damage,” Kix answers.

Several sighs of relief and ‘thank the Maker’ erupt from the group. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in as tears fall from your eyes. Rex rubs your back for reassurance and comfort. Every day of waiting with no answers was painful as you desperately wished for Tup to wake up. There were no guarantees that he would or that if he did wake up, he wouldn’t be catatonic or brain dead. To hear that he’s awake and alert is the greatest news you could ask for.

You look up at Kix and mouth ‘thank you’ to him as the words can barely escape your mouth through the rolling tears of joy. Kix wants to smile, but the other half of his news won’t let him. He doesn’t want to destroy your little bit of joy by sharing about Tup’s spiraling mental health, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. That’s the double-edged sword of being a medic. He has to deliver good news and bad news. He can’t pick and choose which one to give.

“What’s the bad news?” Rex asks cautiously, a twinge of nervousness in his voice.

Kix rubs the back of his neck and tries to formulate his words carefully. “Tup,” Kix begins, but then pauses again before continuing. “Physically, his recovery is progressing as well as expected, but mentally…” Kix trails off as he thinks about his words. “Traumatic events like this one can alter a person’s psychological state, so mentally…” Kix pauses again, struggling for the first time to get words out. “Mentally he’s not doing well.”

“What do you mean, mentally?” you ask in concern. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes and no,” Kix answers in hesitation as his tone goes high and low with the words. “He’s struggling with his self-worth.”

“Self-worth?” you repeat in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Spit it out, Kix,” Rex demands.

Kix sighs and puts all his cards down on the table. “He’s angry at himself about what happened and doesn’t think he deserves to live.”

“What?!” you retort in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous! Of course he deserves to live!”

“Not according to him,” Kix breathes out as he rubs his forehead.

“Can I see him?” you ask, determined to knock some sense into your boyfriend.

Kix frowns. “He doesn’t want any visitors.”

“He doesn’t want to see me?” you repeat quietly with disappointment as your eyes threaten to release more tears.

“Wait a minute, hold on, back up,” Fives interjects, astonishment dripping from his words. “We went through absolute hell to save him and her, and kill the man responsible, and he doesn’t want to see us?!”

“Like I said,” Kix starts calmly. “His mental state is extremely unstable.”

“That doesn’t sound like Tup,” you whisper as you think back to your happy-go-lucky boyfriend and his playful demeanor.

“This type of mental shift isn’t uncommon for trauma survivors,” Kix explains, trying to sound as compassionate and realistic as possible. “It changes people. He may not be the same man you remember, and he may never be that man again.”

The room goes quiet as somber thoughts float around like dandelion seeds caught in a breeze. No one can imagine a different Tup than the one they know so well. He’s always been bright, cheery, playful, and a bit of a tease to his batchmate Dogma. The idea that the Tup they know could be gone forever is a hard pill to swallow, especially for you. To think that your happy life was ripped away in one night is almost too much to bear.

“I want to see him,” you assert as you stand up from your chair.

“That’s not a good idea,” Kix warns while shaking his head.

“I don’t care,” you argue, your emotions cracking through your voice. “I need to hear it from him.”

“We’ll go with you,” Echo adds as he stands up and gestures to Fives and Jesse.

“That’s definitely not a good idea,” Kix emphasizes while putting up both hands.

“Are you going to try and stop me?” you ask as you take a few steps towards Kix and look him in the eyes.

Kix tries to look away, but your conviction catches his gaze. He sighs. “I can’t stop you if you’re determined. I can only strongly advise against it.”

You nod that you understand the risks and are willing to take them.

“However,” Kix cautions, his voice turning serious. “His health is my top priority and I will remove you, any of you, if you aggravate his condition.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you acknowledge, fully embracing the terms of the visitation. You look back towards Echo, Fives, and Jesse and they give you nods of agreement.

As much as the rest of the group wants to see Tup, they stay behind in the waiting room, content in knowing that their brother is awake and out of immediate danger. Rex gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder and you return the gesture with the best smile you can form. You take a deep breath then follow Kix down the corridors, staring at your reflection in floor tiles as you stroll along. The three Arc troopers trail along behind you for the silent walk to Tup’s room.

You wonder what you’ll say to him. You’ve had some time to think about it since your rescue, the thoughts you want to express. Your gratitude, your fear, your love, your elation, all of it. You want to tell him everything and not spare any details. He’s in that hospital bed because of you after all, so it’s the least you can offer him. It should have been you, not him. You barely have a scratch on you, which only fuels your anger at yourself for Tup’s condition. He’s not worthless, not to you.

You finally reach his room and Kix stops in front of the door as he mentally prepares himself to walk inside. You decide to fortify yourself too. Kix said Tup’s not the same man as before, but you don’t know what that means. You don’t know what that looks like and you’re not entirely sure you want to know, but you need to know, even if it hurts. Even if he spits in your face and tells you to walk away, you need to know who he is now. You need to know how to love him where he’s at.

You take a deep breath as Kix opens the door and brace yourself. You haven’t seen him since you were in the alley. The last image you have of Tup is him hanging, bloody and lifeless from your stalker’s grip. Your breath quickens and your anxiety spikes as you step into the sterile hospital room. The heart monitor beeps steady and rhythmically, a good sign that he’s relaxed, and as you come around Kix, you finally get your first glimpse of Tup and it breaks your heart.

His entire body is wrapped in bandages, with limbs casted and suspended in the air using pins screwed into joints attached to wires that coil around pulleys. Several IV bags hang on a nearby pole with different fluids dripping through the catheter into his neck. What can be seen of his face is bruised and swollen from his dislocated jaw. The setup looks archaic and almost barbaric, like a scene out of horror holo-film, but it must be necessary if this is what Kix decided.

You cautiously step closer to the bed, with Jesse, Fives, and Echo hanging back alongside Kix to give you a little privacy. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, that you would be strong for him, but looking at his immobilized body and listening to the beeping monitors threatens to break your resolve. You look back at Kix for reassurance, and he gives you an affirming nod. You walk around to the other side of the bed, to where Tup’s hand is free, and gently place yours atop his.

Tup startles at the sudden touch and you flinch in response to his jerk, but you don’t remove your hand. You brush your thumb along the back of his knuckles in a soothing manner. He slowly turns his head to see who’s touching him and to his surprise, it’s you, smiling down at him with those beautiful eyes he instantly and intimately recognizes. For a moment his heart leaps knowing that you’re alright, that you’re safe, but he lets the feeling fade into his abyss of despair.

“Hey,” you say softly when you notice his eyes are on you. You almost lose your composure with just one word.

He doesn’t answer.

“Oh, yeah,” Kix says under his breath as he realizes Tup can’t communicate. Kix grabs the data-pad off the counter and brings it over to you. “You’ll need this if you want to talk to him.”

Tup glares at Kix for ignoring his wishes. Kix glares back. “Keep it on the bed this time.”

“Thanks,” you say as you grab the data-pad from him. You set it down next to Tup’s hand and wait eagerly for his response.

Leave.

Your heart sinks at the cold solitary word. “What?” you ask in confusion. The first thing he tells you when you finally get to see each other again, is ‘leave’? That can’t be right. Maybe he misspelled ‘love’. That must be it. There’s no reason for him to make you leave, not when you haven’t had a chance to tell him how happy you are to see him alive. You chuckle playfully. “I can’t leave. I just got here.”

Leave.

“Tup,” you say as your smile turns into a worried frown. You search his amber eyes, pleading for him to tell you more. “I’ve missed you.” You put your hand back on top of his and he pulls away from your touch.

Leave.

You hold back your tears as you realize Kix is telling the truth. This isn’t the Tup you remember. This isn’t the Tup that you went on dates with, laughed with, baked with, or made love with. This Tup you don’t know. It isn’t just the endless amounts of bandages or pain medication. No. His cold gaze and lifeless demeanor; this isn’t the same man that you held hands with five rotations ago. “Tup, please,” you plead with a strained voice. “Talk to me.”

Tup averts his gaze and moves his head to look at the other side of the room, and that’s when he sees them. The real heroes. The real clones. The real men. The men that did what he couldn’t. The men who protected you and saved you from your attacker. It’s like a fairytale dream where the princess is saved from the evil monster by the handsome prince, except it’s not him. He didn’t even get a chance to audition for the lead role in his own story and it broke him.

“Tup,” you call to him, hoping to get his attention back on you.

He wishes you would stop saying his name. It sounds disgusting and he doesn’t want your forced pity. It’s embarrassing enough to have you standing there, gawking at his broken body, but to hear you say his name with such sympathy is demeaning. The more he thinks about it the more his anger builds. Anger at himself, anger at you, and anger at the ARC troopers who had the gall to stand in his hospital room and gloat about their triumphant victory. It makes him sick.

Get out.

You finally let your tears fall as your heart shatters into a million pieces. He really doesn’t want to see you, but that’s what you wanted right? To hear it from him? To prove Kix wrong, thinking that you knew Tup enough that he would get one good look at you and he would somehow go back to normal? And now you have your answer, but it isn’t the answer you wanted. It isn’t the answer you hoped for. The nightmare continues, rolling like a stone beaten by a river.

Unable to watch the emotionally depressing scene play out any longer, Fives decides to intervene and bring his two cents to the table. Kix tries to stop him, but Fives is a force to be reckoned with when he’s determined. He doesn’t understand Tup’s attitude at all. He was there at the scene of the crime. He saw his brother’s bones, felt his ripped flesh, and bathed in his blood. He watched the footage, he knows what happened, and it fueled his ravenous revenge.

“Hey!” Fives says forcefully as he approaches Tup and gestures at your tear stained face. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to make her cry!”

Not your business.

“All of this is my business,” Fives huffs and crosses his arms. “If it wasn’t for Echo and I, you’d be dead in that dumpster.”

Rather be.

“I’m sorry, what?” Fives questions as he furrows his brows in confusion. “That’s a really strange way of saying thank you.”

For what?

Fives scoffs in disbelief and starts to wonder if Kix is right. “What do you mean ‘for what’? How about thanks for saving your sorry shebs!” Fives points at you. “And hers!”

Didn’t ask.

Fives’ jaw drops, completely baffled at Tup’s response. His anger builds as he remembers every moment of fear he and the others suffered as they waited and prayed to whatever deity would listen that their beloved little brother would wake up. After everything they did, after everything he did, to have Tup dismiss him like this, pains every part of his being. “Do you even know the levels of hell we’ve been through?!” Fives seethes. “Everything I did was for you!”

Usen’ye.

Fives’ blood boils as he narrows his eyes and scrunches his nose, losing the last bit of composure he had. “Why you little, ungrateful piece of–”

“I think that’s enough for today,” Echo interrupts as he stands between Fives and Tup.

“But–” Fives protests.

“Leave it,” Echo interjects sternly. “He’s not himself, and we don’t need you to make things worse.”

Fives grunts in frustration and turns around to leave, bumping Jesse’s shoulder hard as he storms out of the room. Jesse looks at Kix in bewilderment and Kix just shakes his head and sighs. He tried to warn them, but they didn’t listen. Tup’s mental shift hurts him too, but he doesn’t have the time or the emotional capacity to process it like they do, not when he has to deal with it on a daily basis. It’s going to take time and the only thing any of them can do is wait.

Echo walks over to you and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t we let him get some rest.”

Realizing there’s nothing more you can do, you nod your head in agreement. You offer Tup another smile, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “I love you,” you whisper in hopes your words will somehow get through to him, but they don’t. You slump your shoulders and turn away as tears prick the corner of your eyes. The Tup you once knew and loved is gone and it breaks your heart.

Echo stays behind for a second and stares down at Tup. “You may be angry with him,” he begins calmly. “But you’ll never know what it was like to see Fives drenched in blood.”

Tup avoids Echo’s eyes, training them straight ahead and staring into nothingness. He doesn’t want to hear it, any of it. He doesn’t care what sob story they made up to condone their actions. It doesn’t matter to him. It hurts. It hurts more than anyone will ever know, more than he can ever express through a data-pad or spoken word. The pain in his heart is unbearable and the only way he can placate it is by shutting everyone out, because only then can no one hear him cry.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

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A03

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freesia-writes · 11 months

Note

For the celebration: 17 and Tup!! Thinking about that sweet soft boy today, I wanna hold him, I get so worried for him ;;; @fives-girlfriend

Oooooo baby. I was excited for this one!

#17 - "Don't ever do that again! You have no idea what it does to me…"

Tup x Reader (I think GN but correct me if I missed anything) Word Count: 3.6k Content Warnings: drinkin and kissin. Apparently all I write, LOL.

“Come on, Tup. It’ll be awesome!” Hardcase exclaimed, clapping him on the back with enough enthusiasm to nearly knock him off his bench.

“Yeah, they’ve never done this at 79s before!” Fives added, and even Dogma nodded vigorously through his mouthful of food.

“I know, it’s just…” Tup began, but Jesse’s arrival, accompanied with a loud “who’s ready to party tonight?!” drowned out the rest of his reply.

It was the talk of the mess hall -- Sy Snootles was coming to perform at 79s, and she was bringing along an infamous troupe of Twi’lek dancers, supposedly heralded throughout the galaxy as some of the most luscious and lascivious one could encounter. The clones who were lucky enough to be on Coruscant were undoubtedly excited, as they were rarely considered deserving of such luxuries. A few squads were planning to attend, the 501st being one of them, as you had heard on your lunch break.

You worked with them frequently when they were on world, providing armor improvements, repairs, and tune-ups beyond what they would do for regular inspections. You were part of a small team that scuttled from armory to armory, equipping troopers with updated devices and outfitting new squads. The 501st boys were some of your favorites, having enough personality among them for the entire GAR. One in particular had always held a soft spot in your heart, with his unassuming demeanor and quiet insight. You’d chatted with him often while going over various armor components, and the stories he’d shared about the horrors of Umbara had broken your heart for him. He’d formed strong bonds with his brothers, especially after enduring that nightmare, and you’d felt your affection growing as you saw him grow from a fresh little rookie to a skilled negotiator, brave soldier, and man of strong convictions.

If you were honest, he’d grown on you a lot. You found yourself daydreaming, during slow hours, of slowly freeing his hair from its neat little bun, running your fingers through it, and tracing your lips across his cheek to the little teardrop tattoo beneath his eye. But you’d also become close friends, and you were fairly certain that was the extent of his perspective and feelings toward you. There was an intimacy and familiarity between you that had been established as he’d shared some of his most vulnerable moments and harrowing experiences while you’d listened quietly, patting his hand and offering empathetic platitudes that couldn’t begin to match the magnitude of what he had been through. At some point, it had grown into more than just fondness, you’d realized, and it resulted in a simmering attraction that burned in your chest whenever you saw him.

So when you found him at the back of the cluster of troopers waiting for the lift after lunch, and he caught sight of you as you approached him from the side, it sent a little shiver of tingles down your spine at the small smile that curved across his face.

“CT-5385,” you said quietly, giving him a solemn salute that earned you an eyeroll as he looped his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into a warm side hug.

“Cut it out,” he commanded, dropping his arm as you filtered into the crowded lift. “You heard all the fuss about 79s tonight?” he asked, barely audible over the rest of the chatter in the small space.

“I did. You going?” you asked, feeling a sudden whirlwind of mixed emotions at it.

“I’m not really feeling it, but it doesn’t sound like I have a choice,” Tup answered, shrugging and tipping his head toward his fellow blue-striped 501st brothers.

“I can call you in for an emergency armor upgrade if you’d like,” you offered, to which he chuckled and shook his head.

“Why don’t you just come?” he asked, looking up at you with those large honey-brown eyes. “It would make it a lot more bearable, that’s for sure.”

Your heart skipped a beat, wondering if he did have feelings for you after all, or if it was just the simple statement of one enjoying the company of a friend. You couldn’t help but smile, though, and tried to angle your face away from the light as you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm as you wondered about his affections.

“I will if you will,” you said, resuming your light and airy attitude as the lift doors whooshed open.

“Game on,” he declared, giving you the cheesiest finger guns you’d ever seen, promptly cringing at it, shrugging, and pulling his helmet on as he trotted off after his squad.

“It’s a date?” you whispered under your breath as he disappeared around the corner.

* * *

79s was packed to the brim, and clusters of troopers spilled out onto the streets all around it. The atmosphere was infectiously exciting, as though the entire world were on pause and tonight was a chance to escape it all for a few hours. There were three times as many food carts as usual, as the local vendors were quick to pick up on any chance for some extra business, and the entire block seemed like a party in itself. You started to feel anxious and out of place, as this wasn’t usually your thing. It had been something you and Tup had bonded over from the start -- a preference for more quiet, intellectual, serene spaces as opposed to the vibrant party scenes that more of the troopers opted for.

You adjusted your outfit, feeling slightly self-conscious as it was decidedly more fitted and flattering than your simple work jumpsuit. You realized you had never really seen Tup in a more informal setting, as your interactions were primarily in the mess hall, the armory, or the barracks. All the questions and doubts began to swirl in your mind, amplified by the booming music that assaulted you as soon as you pushed your way into 79s. Heading straight for the bar and downing a double shot of liquid courage before you even looked around, you wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, returning the glass to the countertop and scanning the room for familiar faces.

“You’re off to an ambitious start,” came a smooth voice from behind you. “Lookin to stir up some trouble? Give those Twi’leks some competition?” You smirked, turning to face Fives, whose presence could be felt as much as heard. His boisterousness and joviality always brought a smile to your face, and you admired his ability to channel that even after his harrowing experiences at war.

“Oh, you know me…” you said, shrugging as you felt the tingly burn down your throat, warming your chest. “Where are the rest of the boys?”

“Upstairs, for now. Lost a fight with the 212th for the table by the stage, but we’re plotting our revenge,” Fives said with a conspiratorial wink as he jerked his head toward the stairs, motioning you to come along. There was something different about tonight, whether it was the setting or the occasion or some strange alignment of the stars, and you just felt an apprehensive prickle down your spine, as though something were about to happen. You ordered another double shot, taking it with you as you trotted up the stairs after Fives.

A couple whistles and hoots met you as you reached the top of the stairs, and you grinned bashfully as Hardcase and Jesse catcalled you while Fives announced your presence. It felt like being welcomed home, as cheesy as that sounded in your own head, with the kind familiarity and brotherly acceptance they always had for you. Hopefully not TOO brotherly… for all of them at least… Your eyes roved across their faces, finding the one that made your heart flutter. Tup was crushed in the corner of the booth, mercilessly squeezed between Hardcase and Dogma, arms pushed into his sides. You laughed at the sight of him, and he carefully arranged his features into sarcastic disdain when he met your eyes.

“Our little armorer here thinks she can keep up with us,” Fives proclaimed, gesturing grandly toward you as you gave him a quizzical look, having promised no such thing. “So let’s show her a good time tonight, eh boys?” A cacophony of agreement, friendly taunts, and promises followed his words, and you shook your head, the elation of the moment sweeping you up, and downed the double shot in your hand in one gulp.

“Ohhhhhhhh she ain’t messin around!!” Denal howled, slapping the table amid the cheers and squawks.

“Alright, move out. I want to sit right THERE,” you demanded, pointing to the corner between Dogma and Tup, who were surprised by your sudden attention. Hardcase laughed, eternally ready to join in any sort of shenanigans and feeding off of your energy, and rose to his feet, pushing the rest of the clones right off the bench to make way for you to climb in. They filled back in, squeezing even more, and jostled each other for room until Kix toppled off the end and had to search for a chair instead.

“Hey buddy,” you said to Tup, happily pressed against his side from shoulder to knee. His plastoid armor plates were carefully positioned to avoid digging an edge into your side, although as you snuggled in, you found yourself wondering what it would be like to slowly take each one off…

“You’re in rare form,” he noted, lifting an eyebrow at your effervescent attitude. “What was Fives on about?”

“That was all him,” you laughed, “But for some reason this just sounded really fun tonight. You excited about the dancers? Perhaps get yourself a special one?” Why were you baiting him like this? Your head felt a little bubbly, and the wild atmosphere was doing nothing to help it. Tup gave a low chuckle, dropping his eyes to the table, tracing his finger around a ring of condensation drops from his tall drink.

“Jesse threatened to buy me one, but I doubt he’ll go through with it. He’d rather spend the credits on drinks for the ladies…”

“Well. You deserve a break. You can’t keep everything pent up inside all the time,” you affirmed, nodding confidently as you shifted to survey the rest of the crowd. Tup looked up at the side of your face, suddenly pensive and solemn, as though he yearned to speak. You felt his eyes on you and turned back curiously, eyebrows lifted and an inviting smile on your lips, but he just returned your grin with a small one of his own, shook his head a little, and followed your previous glance out to the crowd as the announcer began introducing the infamous guest stars.

* * *

The show seemed to go on forever, punctuated with breaks where the performers would come out and work the crowd… both literally and figuratively. The booth had emptied a bit, as the troopers scattered to the refresher, the bar, and other groups. You and Tup had been lost in conversation, heads leaned together, living through adventures and faraway thoughts, completely engrossed in each other’s company. The connection was absolutely vibrant, and you felt pulled to him more than ever before. The general raucousness of the bar got louder as the performers were making their way upstairs, scattering to dance and laugh with the clones there. You felt a sudden flare of passion, a mixture of jealousy, protectiveness, and the mounting pressure of all the feelings you had for this trooper that you’d been stifling for so long.

Two of the dancers whirled over to the booth, purring their invitations. One slowly sat on the eager knees Jesse, who laughed and yelled, “For free?!” The other climbed onto the bench on all fours and began crawling toward Tup, who looked alarmed. In a rush of emotion, you scrambled to get up, banging your knee on the table incredibly hard as you suddenly threw yourself across Tup’s lap. As you straddled him, you turned and put a hand out toward the Twi’lek.

“This one’s mine, honey!” you said, channeling all the sass you’d ever seen on the holovids. The performer laughed, waggling her finger at you and sidling back out of the booth, only to be quickly scooped up by a pilot trooper. You turned back to Tup, resting your hands on his shoulders and looking down at him now from your perch on his lap. He was sitting straight as an arrow, hands held up slightly out to the sides as if he didn’t know where to put them. Heat blossomed across your cheeks and throughout your chest, and you laughed, trying to seem lighthearted but also not wanting to move anytime soon.

“I’m just looking out for you,” you said teasingly, glancing over your shoulders in mock fright as though there were horrors lurking around every corner. As you came back to him, he let out a laugh that almost sounded forced, and you noticed his eyebrows were working overtime to conceal the cesspool of emotions that were funneling through his brain.

“Thank goodness,” he breathed, with another nervous chuckle, awkwardly lowering his hands to the outsides of your thighs and setting them down so precariously, you’d think you were made of glass.

“Better make it convincing though,” you said, lifting your hands to his hair, where you gently pulled the band off of his ever-present man bun. His textured brown locks toppled down, holding their shape where they’d been twisted around each other day after day. It was comical, as it lay in messy tufts around his shoulders and one decidedly large bump in the middle, but it was also incredibly sexy, and you felt yourself literally salivating. You also felt a panic settle in all of a sudden, wondering if you were wildly crossing the line… Or perhaps you were getting a question answered that had been burning for a long time now.

He lifted his chin, eyes fluttering shut for a full second as you slowly, painstakingly raked your fingers through his hair, now free of its tight constraint. Your hands continued across his skull, down the back of his neck, and then forward along each side of his jawline until they came together at his chin, where you finished by giving his nose a tiny boop. His eyes widened, realizing your face was within inches of his, and he suddenly shifted himself to the side, knocking you off balance and onto the bench. He scrambled out of the booth, catching one quick glimpse from Jesse, who had been oblivious to you two due to the undulating distraction in front of him.

You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, cringing so hard at the thought that you may have just ruined everything, and you flailed to get out of the booth after him. You caught sight of him disappearing out the balcony door (you didn’t know 79s had a balcony did ya? It does now!) just as it closed behind him. Pausing before following him out, you watched him lean on the railing, looking at the Coruscant underworld stretching out before him as his hair drifted across his eyes in the speeder-induced breeze. His expression was unreadable, and startled you in how foreign it looked.

Taking a deep breath, you ventured outside, steeling yourself to try to patch things up. You pulled up next to the railing next to him and faced the city skyline, feeling too sheepish to meet him head-on. You fumbled for words, wringing your hands together in not-so-subtle anxiety. “I’m sorry…” you began.

“Don't ever do that again!,” he said suddenly, startling you into standing up straight and facing him fully. You were filled with regret, looking up at him apologetically and readying your explanations, until he continued speaking in a low growl that sent an electric shock through you. “You have no idea what it does to me…” he admitted, voice slightly hoarse at the end. He slowly stood from his lean over the railing, leaving one hand on it and turning toward you, the other hand pushing his hair out of his face. As your eyes found his, you were lost in the rich brown pools of emotion, accentuated by the wildly mess of his hair that made him look like an entirely different person. His hand clenched at his side, and he shifted his eyes off to the horizon again.

“What does it do to you, Tup?” you asked quietly, and he closed his eyes at his name, soft on your lips, before slowly opening them and taking a step closer.The intensity of his gaze and the singular focus of his presence were electrifying, and you felt as though your insides were trembling.

“It drives me crazy,” he whispered, some dark waves twisting across his forehead as the breeze ruffled past. He looked from eye to eye, taking in your face with an enamored stare as though he were seeing it for the first time. “I don’t want to make things awkward. I love our talks. I love getting to see you. I love your wit, your intelligence, your curiosity…” His confession had been coming out more confidently but hit an abrupt halt as his gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry if it ruins our friendship,” he said with a resigned tone, and your heart took a tentative leap in your chest as you processed his words, hoping they meant what you thought they did.

Fueled by his vulnerability and absolutely irresistible look, you reached for him, slipping your hands around the back of his neck, one slightly roving up into the roots of his hair at the base of his neck, and pulled him gently toward you. His arms were around you in a flash, and after one last meaningful, searching glance that seemed to stretch out into eternity, he closed the distance and kissed you deeply. Your tiny gasp of delight was swallowed up by his mouth pressed against yours, muscles tightening around you, pulling you against his armor. His hair gently tickled your cheeks, and you savored the taste of his lips, the scent of his shampoo, and the electrifying excitement of being in his embrace.

He pulled back, mouth falling open as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened, and stared at you in awe. You offered a sheepish smile, giddy at the sight of him so shocked and enthralled. He lowered his hands to take yours, shaking his head at the ground, still dumbfounded.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admitted, and he jerked his head back up to you, mouth curving into an elated smile. “You’re my favorite, Tup. You’re brave and insightful and kind and complex… I think the world of you.” Each word you spoke seemed to inflate him more and more with an overjoyed enchantment that lit up his face in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“I didn’t think people saw us as unique enough to be interested… for real…” he murmured, and you shook your head, surprised and sad that he’d have such a notion. You lifted a hand to his cheek, which sent his eyebrows up a little further, and touched your nose to his.

“Well I do,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. He eagerly reciprocated, pressing one hand against the small of your back and drawing the other up between your shoulder blades. His lips were so soft, yet firm and commanding, and his nose pressed into your cheek. There was more of a passion to it now, an intimacy and urgency that set off fireworks in your soul, and you dug your hands into his hair again, relishing the thick tufts between your fingers as you clenched it gently at the roots. A satisfied rumble came from his chest, and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss until you were seeing stars. When he finally let you go, you gasped in as much of the cold night air as you could as though it alone were tethering you to reality. He smiled, face inches away, glowing with wonder.

“I think there might be more of those Twi’leks up here,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, and you laughed breathlessly. “Better make it convincing,” he murmured, turning to back you up against the side of the building, leaning in with a sudden confidence, and bringing his hands to your face. He was kissing you again, pressing against you all over, hands roving from cheek to shoulder to waist to hair. It felt as though a dam had broken, and so much that had been held at bay was crashing down in the most incredible, unbelievable way. You lifted your leg, wrapping it around him, and he immediately gripped it with a gloved hand, moving his armored thigh and hip into you for support and stability. Kissing your way down his neck as he rolled his head to the side, closing his eyes in blissful abandon, you gave the top of his turtleneck a little snap, sending both of you into a quiet giggle fit as you held yourselves together. Every inch yearned to be connected, and you slowly lowered your leg, nestling your head into his neck and shoulder, not daring to move lest you wake up from this dream.

“I guess we did show you a decent time tonight, eh?” he whispered in your ear, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a warm, protective hug.

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 8 months

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omg yES I'd love a part two to the Captain Rex headcanons with an anxious reader with the relationship part since you offered! ;u; I loved the first part so much (and that you included more from the 501st!) tytytyty 💙💙💙

Aw anon I'm so glad! Thank you for coming back as well, and continuing to fuel my feelings for our fine captain. 💙

Warnings and Information: Largely the same as part one. Undescribed fem!Reader with unspecified anxiety/anxious tendencies. Lots of fluff and other good feelings, primarily. Follows bullet point format. No Mando'a used this time. Reader is given different "nicknames" from the Clones to by-pass the use of a name in some cases.

Word count: 2,458

The set-up

The first time he goes to ask you if you'd like to grab some caf together, or go check out that little corner store not too far from the base by speederbike that one of your coworkers mentioned to you in passing, Rex puts in the effort to clean up his armor a bit. Now he doesn't go so far as to polish and repaint all the parts, but he doesn't want to look fresh off a battlefield either where he's caked in mud and dirt and ash. He wants to show you he cares by looking nice when he goes to lay out his offer. You're past the probationary period following your transfer, and he thinks it'd be nice to sort of celebrate that.

You're in your jumpsuit, cheerfully strutting around the hangar to complete the necessary work a little earlier than usual this morning when he first sees you. "Good morning, Captain Rex!" You're all bright-eyed and sunny smiles for so early in the day. Must be in a really good mood now that you feel the weight that comes with being fresh blood in the "office" has been lifted from your shoulders. Can breathe a little easier when there are less eyes scrutinizing your every move. "You're in a good mood today." Rex replies, careful to keep the right balance of being personable and professional within earshot of other civilian staff, as always, "Is there a special reason?" Your grin and your body language tells him everything he needs to know.

"Oh, no reason. Reasons, on the other hand…" you suggest, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from giggling within earshot of those same workers that you've seen him eyeing out of caution. You can afford to be a little braver now, but you should still be cautious. Rex smiles, delighted to hear and see that you're not feeling quite so anxious as you once were. You still have your nervous, self-soothing quirks like fiddling with the wrist-strap of your time device whenever you wear one, or twirling a stylus between your nimble fingers or rocking softly on the balls of your feet. Rex doesn't see you utilize them quite as often these days now that you're off probation, and it makes him feel so much better to see you more relaxed and comfortable here.

He still asks his brothers to keep an eye on you or give you any help in his stead if he senses you becoming overly anxious about anything. Dogma still offers to take any paperwork down to General Skywalker for you (and is certain to remember to knock, now). Fives and Echo still hang out around your desk and your workspace whenever they get the chance. Tup drops by with small snacks or drinks from the mess if you can't spare a moment to get away from your work (and he'll never say no to an offer to help fix up his hair, either). Kix has been by a few times to come sit with you when the anxiety gets really bad, coaching you through your grounding exercises, or acting as a GAR medic (who has authority to treat civilian staff in non-emergency situations) he can administer something to take the edge off. And Jesse has made plausible excuses for you to your boss's face if you've needed to step away and collect yourself, if it's really severe.

They all figure if the captain likes you, and on occasion asks them to check in with you for his "peace of mind" ("Captain Rex has a cruuuuush~" "Hardcase stop before you get yourself in troub-" "It's not just the Captain, Fives. She does too.") they shouldn't be afraid to cement their friendships with you anymore.

“Oh, by the way, Captain,” you call over your shoulder as you walk off to where you’d been summoned, “your armor looks very nice today.” Unfortunately, you were called away to take care of something just as he plucks up his nerve to ask if you’d like to grab a cup of caf with him before the day really gears up, but he doesn’t have to wait much longer for another opportunity.

The first "date"

It comes as a rather impromptu and unofficial thing, with one of the mechanics shouting across the hangar as he wraps up his welding kit that the repairs have been finished on a LAAT that had taken a heavy beating. "Captain! Gunship's good to go!" These guys are good. You get to the gunship before Rex does, admiring the handiwork of the repairmen in awe. "Wow… almost looks brand new, doesn't it?" He agrees with a chuckle, elbow to elbow with you. "What's it like to fly in one of these?" you ask, turning to him with earnest curiosity. It surprises him. "Weren't you transferred to the base in one of these?"

You shake your head, the datapad cradled a little tighter against your chest. "No, I got here by passenger shuttle."

Stay here, he tells you, he has an idea. He just needs to go find where Hawk is.

Hawk takes little time to get kitted-up in order to go take the LAAT for a test flight. Rex boards the gunship first, taking hold of one of the handles overhead before offering a hand out to you to help you up.

You regard the offered hand with mild apprehension, unclear if this is even allowed. "A-are you certain I can be up there? I'm just a civilian. I don't know that I can-" A simple smile is all he needs to calm you, quell your fraying nerves. “I’ll think of some clever excuse if anyone asks.” Rex promises you with one of his charming smiles and playful lift of his brow. He allows you to stand beside him so you feel more secure, showing you where best to grip the support handles as Hawk gears everything up. “Best hold on,” he warns you before you’d feel that lurch in your stomach as the ground falls away fast.

He tells Hawk to take it pretty easy, just a few test laps around the base and not too fast, and Rex keeps his eye on you as Hawk climbs the gunship high enough for his liking. Any sign from you that this was getting to be too much, and he would call it off. But you’re all giddy smiles and awed murmurings as you bravely peek at the ground far below from time to time.

“Beginning aerial test laps, Captain. I promise to go easy, ma’am!” Hawk calls back to the pair of you, beginning to maneuver and swing the gunship out to the right, making you bump hips with the Captain, unprepared to brace for the movement with your legs in addition to your upper body. You go to apologize, but he puts his hand on your opposite hip without a word (at first) to hold you a little closer to him to help you feel secure and steady. Rex apologizes to you for not warning you about the nature of the turns. “Flown in these things more times than I can count; it’s all just second nature to me.” You suppose that makes a lot of sense, surely a little flushed in the face, being so close. On the next turn, you know to anticipate it this time, but you still lean pretty heavily against him.

What happens next however is absolutely not your fault. Hawk purposefully takes a much sharper turn as he completes one of his last laps, and with the centrifugal force you’re really pushed up against Captain Rex, practically chest to chest with him now, and then laughs apologetically from the cockpit. “Whoops, sorry sweetheart! Got a little carried away on that one. You alright?” You’re fine, you answer just loud enough for Hawk to hear, finding yourself still so close against Rex, his hand still on your hip to hold you steady. You and Rex look at each other for one long moment, almost missing what Hawk says about taking you in for a landing, feeling a little lost in the other’s eye…

Once you’re back on the ground, you thank Hawk for letting you come along on the test flight for the repaired LAAT. “Oh, you’re welcome! I hope it was nice despite that one turn. Just got a little ahead of myself and forgot you’re not used to those kinds of ships.” You promise it’s okay, and thank him again. You should probably get back to work now, you explain, a little color in your cheeks after smiling at Rex and bidding him goodbye next.

He makes no mention of the transfer-smear of lip product found on his Captain’s face, one that looks an awful lot like the color you’re wearing this morning, until he’s certain you’re out of earshot. “That’s a nice color on you, Captain.” Rex takes a moment to clean his cheek of the evidence, a gentle pout playing across his features, his broad nose creasing as he responds to Hawk’s compliment. “You swung too wide on that last turn before we landed…”

As partners

It’s not long after that that things kick off. Secretly. There’s no official code or regulation against this (you’d know: Echo and Dogma checked for one extensively, separately and together) relationship taking place, but you’re going to keep it on the down-low for the most part. Rex has a professional image to maintain as a captain of the GAR, and you risk being transferred out should any of your higher-ups feel this partnership of sorts comes as a hindrance or serious detriment to your job as a civilian. (“Do you know how many want to be in your shoes? Do you have any idea just how sought-after this position is?” “A-A very good idea, actually. That’s why I’m here, sir. I promise, I’m not going to make any trouble.” (Oh how Fives and Jesse had wanted to give the civilian staff member you reported to a piece of their minds for talking to you like that.)) You and Rex find a way to make it work, with a little help from his brothers.

He visits you during work. Often as he can. Sometimes it's planned out in advance, where the two of you have lots of time alone. He makes sure that you're doing okay, and that you're taking care of yourself, of course, but primarily these opportunities to see you are just to spend time with you. Take his mind off of the war. Take your mind off of your job, or whatever troubles you. Sometimes it's discreet, spur of the moment little meetings in empty offices… or secluded corners his brothers have told him about.

"There's a blind spot in the cameras around here," Hardcase explains, unprompted, one afternoon over nutrimush in the mess hall, "You can get away with a lot of stuff right there behind the shelving." He's not sure if he's about to reprimand Hardcase as his Captain or to thank him as a brother for this insight for a long moment. "What do you mean by get away with a lot of stuff, 'Case?" There's quite a few options it turns out. Stash some contraband, (re)paint your armor without being bothered too much, or just… y'know. Have a nap? (Damn, okay, aside from whatever Hardcase means by contraband that sounds like a pretty great spot.) "Maybe I'll… check it out." Rex agrees with a simple shrug.

Oh and if he does, he has to be careful about a certain box on the shelves. Can't put empty snack wrappers back in it otherwise it'll attract ants again, Hardcase says he learned that one the hard way and it took a while to get it back under control just short of throwing away his whole collection of snacks. Two of them are welcome to just about anything they find in the box if Rex takes you there, but the energy drinks are off limits.

"Or just leave Hardcase five credits if you do take one." Echo calls from a little further down the table, pouring over some section of the regulation manual related to your job that you were having trouble understanding. (They used a lot of unnecessary and complicated words because it was translated into Basic from another galactic language.) "Fives and I do it all the time." A few more brothers confirm that they do the same since being let in on Hardcase's little secret. Dogma insists he does not. "I don't like these crazy energy drinks they come up with. 'Trotting Tauntaun' and 'Hyperspace Rush'? Makes me feel sick to my stomach and my heart race…" (It's probably all the caffeine, Kix calls back to him from Rex's left. Dogma might have a low tolerance for it and that's why he doesn't like it.)

This little nook within the hangar becomes the perfect place to decompress whenever Captain Rex notices you are looking more anxious than typical. One of his men has stashed away an old GAR-issue blanket that's stained with various smears of cobalt blue - 501st's Blue - but still plenty warm and comfortable to wrap up in. You can tell that it's Fives who added a little stack of flimsi scraps to write notes on the first time you come back here to this corner of the hangar with the Captain. Rex can see from a mile away that Kix is to thank for the healthier options within the box of Hardcase's snacks.

You're both not sure who scribbled your name along with his under the list of people who were "invited" here, but it makes you cry, in a happy way. To welcome their brother here would be one thing - all Clones had come up with secret, secluded spaces for themselves to have their privacy and establish stealthy boundaries for themselves and their well-being - but they were inviting you too. None of your other colleagues know about this sequestered space. They trusted you to keep their secrets. They liked you. Really liked you.

"To our Captain and his girl" the note begins, waiting for you both on top of the neatly folded blanket when Rex first helped you here, trying to help you settle your nerves after you were badly frightened by a speederbike backfiring outside the base as it whizzed past, "Welcome to our cozy little corner! We hope you like it here and trust that you'll keep it a better secret than General Skywalker and Senator Amidala being a "thing". Speaking of, figured it was time to let the loth-cat out of the bag now that you're both getting as serious as this war allows~. - The 501st"

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those fancy forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Part one] [Masterlist] [Reqests: OPEN]

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