Another Chapter Of The Only Exception By @starqueensthings I Love This Story So Much! Please Check It
Another chapter of The Only Exception by @starqueensthings I love this story so much! Please check it out. ❤️
PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3
Summary: June joins Howzer on a mission for caffeine. She learns a little about his role, his men, his outlook— and he, unknowingly, helps her navigate her struggle as a teacher. For a fleeting moment, June forgets to uphold that self indoctrinated distaste… that long-upheld aversion. For a moment, his companionship feels like nothing she’s ever felt before… nothing that she’d ever permitted herself to entertain… enjoy. But a moment is just a moment. Enjoy the roller coaster of this chapter— please remember certain aspects of a character (snippets of dialogue, facial expressions, etc) are all specifically placed so the audience can witness growth. We all about growth up in this house!
Rating/WC: all chapters are rated 16+ unless stated otherwise | 4475 words.
PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.
The jubilant breeze tumbling throughout the confines of the courtyard perched just opposite those glass doors instantly brandished her hair from her shoulders, beaming rays pouring mercilessly from overhead instantly capitalizing on the opportunity to remind her enraged skin of its power, and she near-winced upon feeling her neck prickle neath its unwelcome intensity.
“You okay?” Howzer asked as they trod down the half dozen stairs toward the locked gate, seemingly noting the sudden cringe atop her features.
“Yeah, fine,” June answered casually. “Spent too much time by the pool with my friend the other day and I’m still paying for it.”
“I saw that,” he chuckled, offering a sympathetic little grimace. “I’d offer some advice but I honestly can’t say I’ve ever had too bad of a sunburn.”
“Yeah, well… Quit braggin’,” June demanded with a smile. “I say this to my best friend all the time: not all of us are gloriously melanous.”
A tingle unrelated to that overhead radiance rolled down her back as his head tipped backward amidst a genuine laugh, and attempting to veil the flush rising rapidly back to her cheeks, she quickly reached to fiddle with the cuff of her sleeve… only to remember she was not wearing long sleeves, instead awkwardly shoving a dawdling finger neath the strap of her watch and giving it an pointless twist around her wrist.
As it turned out, the Combat Base’s close proximity to their chosen cafe perfectly elucidated why Hutchie’s was an establishment of which she’d never heard. Though for how distant it was from the central, senatorial sector of which June was largely familiar, only mere steps atop the pathway leading toward the jovial tinkle of its distant doorbell exposed how just how favoured of a spot it was for the denizens.
Yet even more astonishing than the steady flow of travel cup-laden patrons, stolling past with their steaming flimsi containers of delightful aromatic caf, was truly how simple it was to converse with the man next to her. Despite the butterflies in her stomach continuing their silent attempts at internal homicide, chatting with Howzer felt as intuitive as simply placing one foot in front of the other atop that bustling pathway.
Though their first encounter had far superseded the second in terms of duration, the plaguing ailment and the gentle coaxing he’d required before consenting to treatment had, unfortunately, dominated most of their conversation. Their only encounter since had been tragically too-short to engage in anything more than the hopelessly giddy “hi, I have to run but I really hope I’ll see you soon!” sentiments before the pair parted ways with dopey smiles atop their lips.
And in the void of pain or urgency, it was difficult not to marvel at just how casually that Captain carried himself. Imbued an insouciant energy of which June was sure she’d never be able to embody as effortlessly as Howzer did, breezy probes at conversation spilled from his lips as if he were intrinsically aware of all the topics she could chitter about for hours (though the way that mildly crooked smile wrapped its way around each word had her increasingly confident she would have been perfectly content to just listen to the music of that accented tone). Meanwhile, those large, boot-clad feet moved unhurried toward their destination as if the pathway itself had wordlessly offered to glide below at whatever speed he’d prefer; thankfully he’d defaulted to a cadence more comfortable for her much shorter legs.
As they wove through the ambling crowd, Howzer gushed about his Company; the 742nd was, admittedly, an anomaly of sorts. Not only did their authority ladder end with a Clone Commander and not the Jedi General that typically apexed large sectors of soldiers, but a period of extensive training in its earliest days of formation had seen those boys in teal thrust into an unusual hybrid role. Though classified as a “reconnaissance collection company subfractured from the 91st”, the 742nd was often deployed, instead, as an “assault and secure force”, meaning they were just as frequently tasked with infiltrating an enemy base and securing its perimeter until such a time that reinforcements could arrive and claim the location as their own. Yet, he spoke of his career with the same admirable informality as he would speak of the weather, reminiscing of battles as if recalling the events of a party he’d recently attended, and though she was sure it had rendered her expression to something near a slack-jawed grouper fish, that unforeseen disposition had captured June’s attention and simply refused to free it.
His perspective of war seemed …well, different to anything she’d overheard from soldiers amidst her duties at work. Often those armoured troopers spoke of their duty with an unignorable severity; of the responsibility they carried to both loyally serve and immutably protect the Republic to which they served; of their allegiance to their CO’s, their brethren, and the legion they’d been assigned; of the demand for stoic, unvarying courage in the face of enemies they’d never seen before. Howzer spoke of governing his men as if they were nothing but a bizarrely oversized and appropriately dysfunctional family— ‘vod, he kept calling them before quickly explaining this was a common Mando’a word for brother. He spoke of their battle experiences as if those teal painted men had collectively experienced several disjointed parts of a larger, harrowing adventure; those that were sadly killed on the way were celebrated to a higher degree than those that survived, as the lost had simply moved on to a more exhilarating life of which none of them knew just yet. He spoke of the unremitting desire and obligation to keep his men grounded— to ensure they felt nothing but relative ease and confidence as they marched into the relative unknown…
“Just in here.”
June wrenched her gaze from that enamoring square jaw as he slowed his pace and veered slightly toward a glass door on the right, instead redirecting her eyes upward toward the sign overhead. Hung from the soffit by two oversized copper chains, that deep emerald placard and the loopy gold cursive laying bare the name of that little cafe was immediately familiar, June’s mind quickly extracting the image of the tiny green card she'd opened and cherished some days previous.
“Oh, thank you,” she muttered upon realizing Howzer had pulled the door ajar and was waiting for her to enter ahead of him.
But hardly a step through the door and into that foreign space had thrust an inherently wholesome fragrance into her nose; unseen steaming loaves of delicious crusty sourdough bread, carafes of fresh caf gurgling just out of sight, crystallized and caramelized sugars mixed with an enticing blend of aromatic spices… vanilla, cardamom, cinnamon, clove… and something earthy and deeply familiar.
Though her olfactory system seemed instantly content enough to simply stand atop that threshold and breathe in those potent whiffs of sheer delight, the opportunity was usurped by just how visually overwhelming the interior of that tiny shop was.
“Wow,” June whispered, gaze dancing fervently from corner to corner, item to item, person to person, whilst her feet took her thoughtlessly in Howzer’s wake toward the treat laden display cases on the left.
Like her companion, Hutchie’s was nothing short of …different. Utterly void of that sterile rigidity of which Coruscant remained notorious, three steps into that creaky, rustic cafe had June feeling as if she’d been unknowingly transported to a little bistro on a distant planet. High ceilings and limewashed walls worked in tandem to ensure that relatively cramped square footage was suffused with an indescribable, natural comfort. Taking up the majority of the cafe’s interior real estate was a sitting area along the right side; dozens of time-worn wooden chairs housing patrons of all shapes, colours, and sizes, an equi-diverse array of baked treats perched atop tables anchoring those esoteric conversations.
“Ouuu, Alocasia Zebrina!” June suddenly uttered aloud, excitement surging through her veins as her eyes affixed themselves upon a very familiar-looking striped plant perched in the center of those scrubbed pine tops.
“Say again?” Howzer asked, the din of chatter echoing around those four corners forcing him to lower his ear to only inches from her lips.
“Um, Alocasia Zebrina,” she repeated somewhat meekly, the subtle addition of his aftershave in her nose quickly overpowering that fleeting glee. “The plant on all the tables. I have one at home too. They’re notoriously hard to keep alive.”
Though not robbed of its clarity by the merciless cacophony still ringing around those walls, his chuckling response went wholly unheard, a sharp gasp escaping June’s lips as a searing pain erupted in her knee.
“Ow!” she exclaimed, left hand absently reaching to steady herself with the nearest pillar of solidity, while the other darted downward to appease her now throbbing leg.
“Sorry,” a passerby grunted. “Busy place. Watch where you’re stepping.”
“You okay?”
Again, Howzer went ignored, June’s narrowed gaze affixed on the back of the retreating Zabraki man who had nearly knocked her off her feet as he pushed his way through the throng.
“What happened?” Howzer tried again, this time successfully stealing her attention.
“Nothing,” June dismissed, cheeks flushing upon the realization the support she’d mindlessly sought amidst that unexpected jostle was the crook of that Captain’s elbow. “Guy just knocked into me on his way by. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, this place is always a madhouse,” Howzer answered, resuming normal posture and offering her an apologetic nod. “Stay close.”
Whether the shift was intentional or not, June soon found the back of her hand near-clamped between Howzer’s torso and elbow, the gentle pinch he’d applied to seemingly keep her grasp exactly where it had landed instantly took her mind off the bruise forming earnestly just below her kneecap.
As they lumbered forward in that lagging queue, mahogany floorboards creaking with every step, June’s focus shifted from the drape of her cold fingers around that scuffed plastoid to the display cases passing on her left side— floor to ceiling shelves presented some of the most immaculately prepared pastries she’d ever laid her eyes on; glazed donuts gleaming like edible orbs neath those overhead lights, richly decadent brownies blanketed in a crust of finely chopped nuts, strudels happily leaking their jellied innards onto the emerald green doilies they laid upon whilst waiting to be ingested. On the other side of that scrumptious exhibit, and only visible through gaps between that prolific array of decadence, scurried a dozen green-aproned staff members. Multicoloured hands of all shapes and sizes appeared routinely behind those delicacies, a sheet of protective wax flimsi draped atop palms preparing to extract the confection that some lucky patron up ahead had just claimed as their own. And though her mouth watered uncontrollably at first sight of a delectable looking meiloorun muffin, June’s thoughts had wandered near urgently toward the egregiously overdue caf her very cells continued to demand with each passing, uncaffeinated moment.
“Whatcha gettin’?” Howzer asked as they neared the front counter, her nose flooded with that intoxicating yet unfamiliar, delicate musk as he lowered his lips to a mere breath from her ear.
“Ummmm,” June hesitated, brows furrowing as her eyes danced fervently around the exorbitant list of foreign-beaned caf’s scrawled upon a chalkboard on the wall opposite. “Whatever it was that you sent to my office last week?”
“That was the Apple Java,” he advised her, pointing toward the center of the list. “Large?”
“Extra-large…”
The sudden exposure of that chronic caf addiction, and the way those dark brows raised at her seemingly mechanical, knee-jerk response, would have had her near-cringing neath the weight of self-consciousness had it not been for the smile quickly peeling across those dark lips, twinkly eyes softening as they danced warmly atop her features.
“Extra-large it is,” he repeated with the subtlest of snorts.
“I’ll buy though,” she hastily added, reaching to extract her wallet from the depths of her bag as he turned to greet the humanoid waiting behind the cash register.
“What?” he demanded. “No way! I’m ordering for like sixteen people.”
“So?”
“So! That’s going to cost you a fortune.”
“You fed the entire surgical floor with all those treats last week,” June argued with a shrug, removing her hand from the security of his elbow to unzip her wallet. “I can repay the favour.”
“That was differen—”
“Trust me when I say: I’m more stubborn than you are, and you will not win this.”
She watched his once-smiling lips purse ahead of unsaid protests, gaze narrowing slightly as it bore into hers, seemingly resolute in witnessing the first twitch of muscle that might lay bare any hesitation on her part… but she met that surveying leer with a stern, unwavering one of her own, blue piercing brown as if daring him to object further.
“Fine,” he consented atop the ghost of chuckle. “But put that hand back.”
She repressed a smile as he turned and began to order (twelve regular caf, four decaf, and one extra-large Apple Java), every subsequent breath escaping past her lips struggling to ignore the flutter that had erupted in her gut as he'd assertively collected her cold fingers and directed them back to their previous wreath around his elbow.
“Here’s the Apple Java, and the decaf,” the cashier announced hardly a minute later, passing a familiar looking flimsi cup across that mahogany counter to June’s outstretched palm, and a cardboard carrying tray of four others to Howzer. “We’re just brewing a fresh pot of regular caf. Give us a few minutes, and we’ll call you over when it’s ready.”
June followed in the Captain’s wake a half dozen paces toward one of the smaller tables anchored against the wall, the soul-warming aroma of apple and peekaboo vanilla wafting upward from the container in her hands near-banishing those irksome butterflies. With a small squeal of released anticipation and excitement she popped open the tab on that duraplas lid and took a sip of that scalding delight.
Snickering at the undeniable joy atop her features, Howzer pulled the nearest chair out from its perch beneath that scrubbed pine tabletop and gestured for her to sit, before placing both that laden travel tray and his helmet atop the table between them and taking a seat of his own.
“So you’re a full caffeine kinda guy,” June gleaned with a smirk, noting instantly that Howzer had failed to collect a cup from the collection on the table whilst she cradled hers with both hands.
“Oh absolutely,” Howzer answered, casting the decaffeinated collection of cups in front of him a near-revolted look. “What’s the point of drinking a caf if it’s not to wake you up?”
“Warmth?” June suggested with a small shrug. “Flavour? Even with reduced caffeine levels, it’s a fantastic analeptic. Some like to keep their cortisol levels low. Not to mention it keeps the bowels moving…”
June hurried to hide the flush rising earnestly to her cheeks behind that flimsi container as Howzer’s head tipped back amidst a full chested laugh that promised to dismantle her composure, nose scrunching neath his amusement and raising the little hairs on her arms.
“I guess those are all pretty valid reasons,” he spoke, draping an arm casually atop the backrest of his seat and peering across the table at her with that characteristic twinkle behind his eyes.
She shirked his gaze as discreetly as she could, pretending to pluck a nonexistent piece of fluff from the rim of her drink as she fought to restrain the newly invigorated flapabout in her gut.
“Tell me about class,” he continued as she hurried to pacify the lingering capriciousness by bringing her caf to her lips again. “What happened that made your boss so happy?”
June paused only long enough to force that still blistering liquid down her throat before offering him an evasive, one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know,” she mused, licking the remnants of the last gulp from her top lip and sitting up straight in her chair. “The guys in class have always seemed so …uninterested? It's been really hard to get them to engage with any of the content we’ve been trying to teach them, despite doing everything we can to make the lectures interesting.”
“They’re just not paying attention?” Howzer probed.
“Right… or paying attention to the wrong thing, or being disruptive. Some of them would just spend all three lecture hours sleeping… Some of them would stare at me like it was some stupid game and it drove me up the kriffing wall… Others at least tried to make it look like they were paying attention, but it’s not hard to spot someone that’s napping with their eyes open…
“Today they were actually responsive… even borderline excited about what they were learning. I know, for a soldier, it’s probably not super exhilarating stuff that we’re teaching but… I don’t know. I think it’s all pretty cool once you understand the importance of the material? Maybe I’m just a giant dork, but…”
“Well…” Howzer started as her thoughts trailed away. “You said it, not me...”
“Oh ha ha ha,” June feigned with a roll of her eyes, though a smirk peeled across her lips.
The feeling of his amber-eyed, surveying gaze back atop her features forced her eyes back to the lid on her cup, bringing a cold finger to trail thoughtlessly around the rim of that white duraplas.
“I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to take it too personally,” Howzer continued after a moment’s pause. “That’s a bit of a weird age for troopers, to be honest. This is their first time off Kamino. They’re used to being barked at round the clock by ARC Troopers who wouldn’t recognize ‘consideration’ if it bit them on the ass. All these guys know is having their critical thinking tested every minute of every day, learning respect, and camaraderie, and strategy… all that kind of stuff. Now they’re sitting in a quiet classroom on a foreign planet, separated from everyone they grew up with, being taught combat medicine by civilians. It’s no excuse for, well… staring, but it’ll all be pretty foreign to those guys for a while.”
Gnawing mindlessly on her left thumbnail, June let his words wash over her, a peculiar sensation lurching deep in her gut that felt something-near …guilt.
“Hmm,” she hummed, pulling her finger from its clamp between her lips atop the cold realization that maybe… after all these weeks… she hadn’t been the only person uncomfortable in that classroom. “So it probably feels as awkward for them as it does for me?”
Howzer nodded, that infamously warm gaze thankfully lacking any semblance of judgment or critique as it landed back upon her. “Probably more so, considering almost all of them have probably never talked to a girl before. I know the ‘hot teacher’ comment bothered you but… they’re still learning.”
“Who said it bothered me?” June retorted, though the indignance of her demand diminished instantly upon seeing the deeply skeptical look he cast from across the table. Pursing her lips to repress a culpable grin, she hid behind her coffee cup and asked, “I was that obvious, eh?”
“June, your face speaks louder than your words ever could,” he snickered. “Those eyes could light someone on fire if they glared hard enough.”
June offered only a repressed snort, unable to offer him the titter he deserved whilst her insides churned amidst a simmering remorse that she hadn’t expected to feel for that century of once-disrespectful soldiers. “Kriff, now I feel like an asshole,” she mumbled.
“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Howzer replied with an appeasing smile. “They’re tough. And if they’re not yet, they will be soon. But—” Abruptly plagued by an unprecedented wash of what appeared to be diffidence, he paused to clear his throat and redirect his gaze to a blemish on the crown of his helmet. “—If you want them to stop staring, I’d maybe ditch the glasses.”
“What?” June asked, upper lip cocking in confusion. “Why?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he started, eyes following his fingers as they began to absently drum atop that worn wooden table. “They’re nice. Um, really nice. Almost distracting… I guess?”
The profound reddening of his ears nowhere matched that of her cheeks. Skin prickling as uncomfortably as if the beaming sun beyond that tinkling doorbell had managed to scorch both her shoulders and every inch of her face, she instantly lifted her hand again to subconsciously hide behind that emerald green cup.
“Caf’s up!”
That stentorian call thankfully spared June the need to respond, and they stood from those rickety wooden chairs as if the seats had suddenly burned white hot below their butts. As Howzer scooped his helmet from the table and tucked it neatly neath his arm, June collected the travel tray and followed him back toward the counter.
The twelve regular cups of caf had been smartly divided into trays of four like their decaffeinated counterparts, but with one of June’s hands occupied by her own cup, and Howzer’s helmet plaguing the mobility of his right arm, it quickly became little more than a game of tetris attempting to figure out exactly how the only two remaining limbs were going to successfully cargo sixteen steaming cups of caf for the four-block journey back to Base.
After several precarious and time-consuming attempts at stacking them on top of each other, and much to the mixed amused annoyance of the still bustling queue behind them, June heaved a sigh. “Can you just put that damn helmet on,” she bossed at Howzer atop an exasperated chuckle. “We need your second arm.”
“No,” Howzer refuted instantly. “I won’t be able to see you properly. And I don’t like having it on if I don’t have to...”
“You don’t need to see me, you just need to see where you’re walki—”
“But I want t—”
“‘Kay fine,” she interjected, rolling her eyes and putting her cup of caf down on the counter. “If you balance them on my arm, I can take two trays in one hand and my cup in the other.” Though he cocked an eyebrow at her in a motion of unadulterated doubt, she dismissed his silent concern with an impatient shake of the head. “It’s okay, I used to be a server.”
Atop the rapidly growing pressure of agitation behind them, June insisted. “I’ll be fine, just do it before someone tries to take out my other kneecap.”
Looking as though he thoroughly disagreed with this seemingly impulsive plan, Howzer carefully lowered one tray on top of the other on June’s awaiting right wrist, hands lingering only inches from that teetering tower, poised to resume the weight should she let slip even a whimper of discomfort.
Though it prickled against her sunburnt chest, letting those heavy trays tip backward against her skin diminished some of their burden, and she quickly offered him a nod of approval before collecting her own cup and stepping back from the counter. Once Howzer had balanced his own allotted pair of travel trays, they carefully made for the door.
“You were going to send a cadet to do this?” June snorted as they traversed that sunlit path back to Base, heart seizing for the fourth time in as many minutes as her dribbling freight gave a perilous wobble in her arms and threatened to douse her lower half in scalding hot caf.
“Absolutely,” he laughed. “It’s a great character building exercise.”
“Character building?!” she repeated, utterly aghast. “Pffffft! Seems kinda mean if you ask me, but if that’s what lets you sleep at night.”
“Says the girl who slept in this morning,” he snarked back at her, turning to give her a smirk so dazzling, the discomfort of that hot and heavy cargo momentarily vanished.
“You know what,” June argued neath a chuckle, “I think I deserve a little credit for not sleeping in every kriffing morning. Not only do my shifts never end on time, but my bed is soft, and big, and warm, and a challenge to get out of on any given day…”
“Sounds like a place I’d like to be,” Howzer chortled, turning to grant a fellow trooper in a suit of white and orange a casual nod as they passed each other along that path.
Howzer clearly thought nothing of it, continuing toward their destination unaffected by that off-the-cuff remark, and wholly unaware of the way June’s shoulders had slumped near-theatrically in its wake. Yet, June’s stomach fell with speed thrice that of which they walked, disappointment wiping the lingering remnants of that diminishing amusement from her lips whilst the darkest corner of her mind eagerly raised a red flag and flapped it earnestly across her awareness.
‘So that’s what he wants,’ she concluded, the hubris of her distaste for men instantly usurping the unfamiliar giddiness that had seen her near-intoxicated by his presence for days… weeks. ‘To visit to my bed.’
And the sudden and complete banishment of that teased sense of adventure— that fleeting feeling of ‘maybe I was wrong’ or ‘maybe there are men I can tolerate…’ — had that once gloriously enriching Apple Java cascading down the back of her tongue like spoiled vinegar.
“Sorry—” she muttered after a contemptuous snort, dropping her gaze to her toes and watching that gum-embedded pathway lead them back to Base. “By formal invitation only.”
An impossibly urgent sense of relief surged through her veins as the first signs of that construction-laden building came into view across the road, the gargantuan glass doors they’d left through some time earlier glimmering in the oppressive midday sun as they approached that barbed gate, stopping only so Howzer could scan his wrist comm below the sensor and permit them access.
“June?”
It was only then she realized he’d been talking. Too lost in her own welling disappointment and simmering sense of regret, she’d thoughtlessly tuned out everything around her.
“Sorry, yeah?” she answered, squinting amidst the effort of finding that olive face.
“You still okay there?” Howzer repeated, gesturing with a nod to the cargo she’d, once again, entirely forgotten she was carrying.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, knowing if she divulged the small river of scalding hot caf trickling from her wrist to her elbow, it would only further delay the end of this interaction.
“Okay. Gimme one quick sec,” Howzer requested of her, stopping as the gate closed behind them and shifting his own freight enough to bring his forearm to his mouth. “Spades… come in.”
“‘Sup, cap?” chirped a nearly identical voice through the static of that hidden communication system.
“Status on barracks?” Howzer asked.
“Barracks?” that voice repeated neath an incredulous laugh. “Uhhh… well, nine battalions have landed since last night so it’s safe to say ‘crowded’ is an appropriate word.”
“Duty or dismissed?”
“Unless uniform policy has changed and we’re allowed to loaft around in our underwear on duty, I’m going to guess dismissed. Why? Aren’t you supposed to be in the briefing anyway?”
“Meeting doesn’t start for a few minutes,” Howzer clarified, and I’ve, er… got some company. Thanks for the intel.”
June watched him glance somewhat apologetically in her direction before ending that somewhat cryptic conversation, eyes hardening slightly, as if her labeling her as such was mildly offensive.
‘Company?’ she scowled. ‘Barracks?’
“You trying to show off your bed, now?” June queried with a cocked brow, watching that sharp jaw tense whilst he chewed his lip, brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he silently deciphered some mental puzzle she wasn’t yet privy to
“No,” Howzer chuckled, a lop-sided smile returning quickly to those lips. “Trust me, it’s nothing to bat an eye at. Come on, we’ll go through the hangar.”
PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3
Taglist: @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69 @somewhere-on-kamino @sverdgeir @heidnspeak
More Posts from Heidnspeak and Others
I fully recommend this Howzer series. Such depth and characterizations.
Quantum Entanglement: Howzer + Aurelia - Master List
Even as a cocky young shiny, there were a few people who saw the integrity and depth beneath Howzer's facade. Aurelia was one of them, but life tore them apart. However, when they found themselves reunited on Ryloth, with drastically different circumstances, they have to learn anew how to navigate a changing world and their undeniable feelings for one another.
Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to (smut is posted separately); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and stillbirth (chapters 30-39, can be skipped and still keep up with the story).
Growing Pains
Disillusionment
Potential
Good Intentions
Disarmament
Exploration
Tricky Navigation
Competition
Affinity
Conflict of Interest
Divergence
Correction
Surprise
Loss
Transitions
Suspicions
Tentative Curiosity
Foundation
Rescue
Reckoning
Fresh Start
Comfort and Provision
Passion and Perspective
Blowing Off Steam
Medical Practice
The Choice
Moonlight
Shifting Protocols
Deception
The Stand
Unstable Footing
Direction
Baby Steps
Opening Up
Opportunity
Relief and Regret
Not As Planned
Entanglement
Reunion
Future Gazing While in Waiting
Catching Up
Coming Clean
Sweet and 🔥
Echo x Fem!Reader
Summary
When you accidentally overhear Hunter confronting Echo with his feelings for you, you take your chance and make the first step.
Rating: Teen and Up
Word Count: 4116
Warnings: No warnings! Just enjoy sensual juicy Echo fluff! 🍓♥️
AO3
That karking flap broke.
You sit in a maintenance shaft inside the Marauder and press one part of the flap against the rogue one, rolling your eyes theatrically even though no one can see you, waiting for the spaceworthy superglue to finally do its job.
You can live with doing repairs, letting your hands do the magic but you absolutely hate having to be still, waiting five karking minutes for the glue to finally dry. Your restless mind tells your body to flounder but you try to keep it under control - you don't want to ruin the end result. Then you'd have to do it all over again. Another five minutes of absolute boredom.
“...and we should get two or three regulators as spare parts, the current ones seem to be at the end of their lifespan and become increasingly unreliable." Echo and Hunter enter the Marauder and approach the back where you are stuck in the maintenance shaft with a small mesh separating you from the corridor with the two men.
You don't want to eavesdrop and prepare yourself for the classic “ahem" to show them you're here when Hunter starts talking.
“Enough about the spare parts...let's talk about the mechanic."
O-o...did you do something wrong? Or right? Is it still a good idea to pretend to clear your throat?
“What about her?" Echo asks. He looks a bit annoyed. Maybe you did do something wrong.
The idea that Echo would be upset with you hurts - ever since the crew of the Marauder commissioned your boss's shop to do the repairs you had your eyes on him but never got anything in return. He was stiff, distant, uptight and all about work and his constantly gloomy, slightly grumpy mood didn't help establish a communication either. You had almost made your peace with the idea that for some reason he just didn’t like you. Almost…you couldn’t help yourself and still kept on trying to get close to him, start some smalltalk or catch his eye.
Maybe Hunter noticed that you tried to get his attention and wanted to check with Echo if it bothered him or affected your work...and get someone else if it did. And you genuinely thought you chose a subtle approach to show Echo you're interested. Obviously you didn't. It apparently upset Echo and got Hunter's attention. You weren’t subtle - just very unprofessional.
The embarrassment you feel is overwhelming. You got carried away when all you had to do was repair a spaceship while it made landfall. Maybe they'll even tell your boss about it. You feel so sheepish...the very idea that your boss will learn about it and confront you with your misbehavior makes you want to curl up and die.
“I've seen the way you look at her" Hunter answers and raises an eyebrow...as far as you can see through the mesh.
You stare at the scene with eyes wide open. Is this going in a different direction than you thought?
Echo purses his lips.
“And what way would that be?"
Hunter gives him a warm smile and touches his shoulder.
“Echo…just stop pretending. I know you have feelings for her."
Echo clenches his jaw and is visibly upset with Hunter's approach - he surely doesn‘t want him to address this topic so openly. He takes a step back to get away from his touch and is about to say something but Hunter is faster.
“Don't try to deny it. Enhanced senses, remember?”
Echo's cheeks are flushed red now. He furrows his brows and groans.
"Doesn't matter. I have different priorities."
Hunter raises an eyebrow at him again.
“We both know that's not the real reason. Why don't you give it a shot? I think she really likes you."
Echo angrily stares at Hunter for an awfully long time. It is pretty obvious that he feels that his sergeant overstepped.
“It's really none of your business“ he grunts. “Now if you don't have any more questions about the spare parts I ask to be dismissed."
Hunter scoffs. Since they've been on the run he's never been so formal that he would dismiss one of his crew. You'd be surprised if he'd played that game before Order 66 at all. This team didn't seem to follow the strict military rules anyway – probably with the exception of Echo.
Hunter gives Echo a nod and shortly looks in the direction of the mesh that's hiding you and the bits of the maintenance flap you glued together. Adrenaline flushes you and you hold your breath. Did he see you?
But then he quickly turns around and leaves the Marauder.
A few days later you find yourself in the Marauder alone with Echo, doing repairs while the others explore the planet. Of course the conversation between Hunter and Echo never left your mind and you don’t know how to feel about being alone with him.
Echo...he had feelings for you... something you wished so much but didn't dare to hope for. But ever since that moment in the maintenance shaft you felt even more flustered in his presence. Knowing about his feelings could have made you feel confident, but you are just nervous when he's in the room – and even more now, that you're alone. After all he clearly rejected the idea of taking it further, he had no intention of acting on his feelings. 'We both know that's not the real reason' Hunter said to Echo.
Whatever the reason is - maybe he just needed a little push?
You both work in the Marauder, silently, separately on different stations. Echo keeps the conversation on a professional level and keeps his distance. You sometimes peek over to him, try to catch his eye. Sometimes he looks back at you very shortly, but immediately looks away when your eyes meet. The whole morning is the very definition of awkward.
A quiet beeping informs you that it's time for the lunch break. In a way you've been looking forward to it, hoping it will give you the chance to talk to Echo, maybe exchange as smile or so. But now that it's time you're afraid it will be an embarrassing disaster of uncomfortable silence.
You go over to the tactical stations in the back of the Marauder - two identical working spaces on opposite sides of the fuselage. Both of you lean against the consoles and face each other. Echo gives you a forced smile and a formal nod, then he bites into the GAR standard ration, a brown cylindrical and very dry bar that tastes like cardboard. A loveless piece of food for clone troopers that contains all vitamins, proteins and other nutrients a hard-working soldier needs, carefully balanced to match the average calories a genetically standardized man requires when he performs his standard tasks in a standard environment. Not one bit about this bar is about taste, indulgence, enjoyment. It was made for assets that are supposed to spend the shortest time possible eating to be as productive as they can be.
The fact that it was Hunter who insisted on providing you with lunch today - and you’re sure it’s definitely not a bar like that - tells you that no one in this team has to eat those tasteless abominations of food anymore. Still that's what Echo has for lunch. And you get it. It's all he knows, all he's ever known and whatever kinds of food he got to know on his missions he still keeps on coming back to the standard bars. It is part of his routine, something that grounds him, something familiar.
You nod back and open your lunchbox. You are well aware that his formal behavior is just his way to deal with the awkwardness of the situation. Now that you know he has feelings for you it's easier to look behind his distant facade. He is just afraid of this moment as you are, being alone with each other, being expected to come up with some clever topics for small talk or having to face uncomfortable silence instead, with the sounds of your chewing and swallowing filling the room.
You open your lunch box, see the mouthwatering wholemeal sandwich with fresh salad and cheese Hunter got you - and laugh in surprise when you see the treat he put in the compartment for dessert.
Strawberries.
Of all the food you love, this is what you love most.
You never thought he'd get you strawberries!
And of course Hunter picked the perfect strawberries - you expected nothing less. His enhanced senses surely helped and you have no doubt that they will taste as good as they look - deep red, ripe and juicy, their sweet scent filling the air, watering your mouth. Perfect, just perfect!
A smile spreads all over your face. This is such a lovely gesture from the sergeant. A few days ago you mentioned that you grew them in your garden as a child, how much you always looked forward to the time of the year when they got ripe, how much you’d love to eat them again.
But you never thought he'd surprise you with strawberries for your lunchbreak! You didn't even know it was possible to get them on this planet.
Your smile keeps on growing. One could say it’s just food but these are strawberries! They are never ’just fruit’. A little treat during rough times. And knowing that it is a kind gesture from Hunter makes them even better.
You look over to Echo who already takes the second bite of the tasteless bar and tries to look like someone who doesn't feel uncomfortable in your presence but in such a peculiar way that it is hard to miss how he really feels about the situation.
You look down at the strawberries. Their seductive scent must have reached him and his unsavory GAR ration by now. You look up to him and finally break the silence.
"Have you ever tried strawberries?“ you ask and hold one of the thick red fruit up.
Echo looks over, surprised about your attempt to start a conversation.
“Erm... no" he answers.
"Would you like to try one?“ you ask tentatively and hope he will take the bait.
"Sure, why not" Echo answers and tries to make it sound as casually as he can.
He doesn't know what he just started…at least not yet.
But soon he will.
You get up and with a pounding heart you slowly move the hand with the strawberry in his direction. He reaches for it but you ignore that. You have no intention of giving it to him...at least not this way. You lift your hand up to his face and place the strawberry in front of his mouth, tip forward.
Echo's eyes widen and you see panic in them. He swallows hard and you can feel his breath flowing over your fingers, his mouth still closed, his mind racing. This is not what he signed up for.
You keep your eyes on his even though he doesn't dare to look back into yours. Your pounding heart is the only proof that time isn’t standing still right now.
Echo blinks a few times, irritated, his body frozen. The tension is killing you. And him. You can see his mind working. He said he wanted to try one so he can't tell you he made up his mind just like that. It would be rude.
"The tip is the best part of it” you rasp to break the unbearable silence - and he finally opens his mouth. You feel his warm breath on your skin before he slowly bites off the tip.
You leave your eyes on his and slowly retreat the hand with the remaining half of the strawberry to stick it in your own mouth and eat it. He's still not returning your look while he chews slowly and finally swallows. He shows no reaction to its taste - his mind is probably somewhere else, dealing with your move, trying to process, trying to not give his feelings away, trying to get in control of the situation again.
"You want another one?“ you ask him.
Echo finally looks at you. The panic hasn't left his eyes. He doesn't answer. You see his chest heave quickly under his armor. Your little assault was probably a bit too much for him but you don't see a ‘no’ in his eyes either so you take another strawberry and offer it to him.
His lips are still parted, his breath warm against your fingers and this time it takes only a few breaths before he takes a bite. You eat the other half again and don't bother asking, you just take another strawberry and offer it to him.
He still takes his time before his lips enclose the tip of the fruit but he is not as hesitant as before. You give him a rushed and nervous smile and he gives you one back. Just for half a second, just really quickly, but a smile nonetheless, an unmistakable sign of his consent. Finally...
When you give him the next strawberry you allow your eyes to wander down to his delicious lips, slightly wet and juicy from the treats you’ve been feeding him. Irresistible. You watch their every move when he takes the next bite, watch them gently enclose the tip of the strawberry and suck lightly when he finally bites it off. You breath through your mouth, infatuated by the sight, flustered by the sensuality of his lips, captivated by a little drop of juice running down the corner of his mouth.
Before you can think about it your hand is already at his cheek. You run your thumb over his chin, gently wipe away the juice. You lock eyes - this time he doesn't look away - and you slowly retreat your hand to suckle the juice off of your thumb before you eat your half of the strawberry.
Even though your eyes are on his you see him swallow hard.
You take another strawberry and offer it to him. Everything's in slow motion now. Your hand, his lips, his breath flowing over your fingers...
Your eyes are still locked.
You can see that he’s nervous but so are you. Echo accepts your gift another time and you eat the rest.
You reach for the next strawberry when you realize that Echo already has one in his hand - looks like he finally put his unsavory bar down and wants to return the favor. He’s moving it slowly towards your mouth, his eyes firmly on yours. His hand is shaking - you have no idea how in the universe you managed to keep yours steady all the time. You slowly lift your hand and hold his, stabilize it in front of your lips. His ashen skin feels cold, almost as if it had been waiting for your warm touch. You both move the tip of the strawberry closer.
Your mouth is slightly open. This time it is you who lets him feel your breath on his skin. You take your time before you put your lips around the tip, even dare to stick out your tongue a bit to lick over the underside of the strawberry before you slowly take what's yours.
Echo knows what's supposed to come next - the other half is his. Your hand is still on his, gently guides it towards his mouth. But when he gets there you stop him.
He doesn't understand, you can see it in his eyes...you hold your position for a few breaths and then start moving - very slowly, very carefully. You don't want him to get too eager and eat it. Not yet. After all there is a reason why you bit off only a small part of the strawberry. The fruit is juicy and still very defined where you bit it off... it's perfect, it’s just the way you need it to be.
You slowly guide his hand closer to his mouth and run the juicy part of the remaining strawberry over his lips. First the lower lip, left to right, then the upper lip, his breath fast and hot on your fingers all the time. When both his lips are glistening with juice you finally let him eat the rest.
Your eyes are now firmly locked, tied together by an invisible force. Your hand searches for the next strawberry and finally finds it. You feed him the tip again and are just about to put the other half in your mouth when he softly runs his cold fingers over yours, still trembling lightly, but a lot less than before. And he guides your hand to run the remaining strawberry over your lips now.
It took you until this moment to notice that he bit off a lot less than before too - he is a fast learner.
You breath through your mouth, excited, aroused, drawn to this man, let him feel your hot breath on his cold skin, let him hear every breath you draw, let him hear the shuddering, let him see how close you are to losing your composure while he wets your lips with the sweet strawberry juice. The tension is almost unbearable…how you wish he'd let go of the strawberry and brush his lips over yours...
... but he's not there yet. He feeds you the remaining half and waits for your next move when he takes another strawberry and offers it to you.
Your patience has left for a hunger that can no longer be controlled. You suck the tip of the strawberry hard and suggestively, leaving no questions open, before you bite off the tip with so much passion that your desire is on full display. Then you take his hand with the remaining part, move it close to his mouth, a fierce, determined look in your eyes - and run it over his lips before you run it over the corner of his mouth and wet the skin on his cheek. You don't bother feeding him the rest and satisfy your own hunger by finally moving forward, your lips close to him, finally kissing the juice off of his cheeks and the corner of his mouth before you move on to his lips, gently lick the juice off, your hot breath mixing with his until you finally kiss, softly, sensually, hungrily tasting each other, your strawberry lips, your strawberry tongues, your strawberry saliva.
Echo pulls you closer and you lean your body against his, feel his armor, hard plastoid keeping a physical distance but also intriguing, reminding you of his hard physically demanding work. You reach for the blacks under his chest plate and grab them tightly, pull him closer too, let him feel your grip on his skin while you indulge more and more in each other's taste.
Your free hand still holds the rest of the strawberry and you move it up, run it over the sensitive spot at his cheek right under the place where his ear is covered by the head piece and you move it slowly down towards his neck, move it across his throat and further down from there, then break the kiss and follow the juicy trail with your lips. Echo moans softly and you feel the vibrations under your kisses. He tastes so good…it’s not just the strawberry, not even primarily the sweet fruit, it's him, his unique taste, manly and slightly salty, making the strawberry juice a faint refinement of an already perfect taste.
Echo takes the strawberry remains from you and runs them over your skin, starting under your ear, going on over your sensitive neck and moving closer to your neckline. You slowly pull the zipper of your jumpsuit down, brush the fabric over your shoulder to expose your skin and he gasps quietly and continues his trail on your collar bone. Then he gently kisses the juice off, adds little licks while he's on his way, flickers his tongue over your skin in such a skillful way it robs you of your senses when you realize the promise that lies within. You gasp quietly, feel his hot breath on your skin, hear his little moans, let out little gasps of pleasure and forget the world around you when he...
"Hey Echo, look what we got at the..." Omega's cheerful voice cuts through the air and you quickly let go of each other and stare into her curious face. Wrecker comes through the door, relaxed and in a good mood until he sees your surprised faces, your exposed shoulder, the reddish strawberry juice on your skin and both your red cheeks. He quickly covers Omega's eyes from behind but she loudly complains and squirms her way out of his grip. She is just about to say something when Hunter rushes in, quite obviously to stop them but already aware that he's too late. He could probably sense that the two of you were making out when he was still outside...
Your eyes shortly meet Hunter's and suddenly you realize...
... he must have known that you were in the maintenance bay when he asked Echo about his feelings for you. He couldn't have missed that, not with his enhanced senses. And it was not like this was an ongoing conversation when they entered the corridor.
He started that conversation.
He chose this topic.
He brought it up.
On purpose.
Knowing that you'd be there to listen to him.
Knowing that the chances that you'd make a first move would be a lot higher than Echo's.
And then the strawberries...the strawberries he found for you the very day when you and Echo would be alone on the Marauder. Which was probably something he scheduled on purpose too.
He had planned all this.
You are not sure if you should feel played or if you should be grateful because he gave you the chance to get closer to the man whose touch you craved so much. You would never have taken the chance if you hadn't learned that he has feelings for you.
Hunter looks over to Wrecker and Omega while Tech enters the Marauder.
"You know what? Why don't we explore the city a little more and go to the holo cinema tonight? No need to hang around at the ship, we have that everyday" the sergeant asks.
Wrecker is over the moon and pushes Hunter‘s shoulder a little too enthusiastically.
“Awesome!"
He looks over to Omega who peeks in Hunter's direction and smirks.
“What a shame that these two can't join us. I take it they have to continue with the repairs until late at night?" she says and winks.
Hunter blushes. He wasn't prepared for Omega to understand what he‘s up to. You look over to Echo - his cheeks are flushed red. He just begins to realize that Hunter played Cupid.
Tech adjusts his googles.
“In this case I will stay here too and support the remaining repairs. It is imperative that...”
“Nooooo Tech!” Wrecker interrupts him with his loud voice. “I don't think that's necessary!”
Tech gives him an irritated look – refusing his offer to support repairs is probably one of the most offensive things he knows in his world. Omega quickly picks up on his face and steps in.
“Yeah...you know there's only limited space where they have to work and you'd be in each others' way...”
“Besides...” Hunter adds and wraps his arm around Tech “I chose the movie specifically for you. It's called 'A beautiful mind'. You're gonna love it. It's about a mathematician who...” Hunter gently guides Tech outside and gives the two of you one last look with a grin.
Wrecker rubs his neck before he starts to talk loudly.
“Well...erm...you...you just go on with the repairs...and stuff...you know...erm...”
Omega giggles takes his hand and pulls him towards the door.
“Let's see if we can get Mantell mix on this planet. No movie without junk food!”
Wrecker gratefully accepts the pull-out and Omega gives you a last wink before they leave the two of you alone.
Echo and you look at each other and laugh nervously. And now that everyone has left you realize that someone - probably Hunter - left you something at the Marauder‘s door. It’s probably what Omega wanted to show Echo when she ran in on you.
It‘s a basket with a huge variety of fruit.
Very juicy ones.
Echo didn’t miss them either. He rubs his neck and gives you an apologetic look.
“Well that’s embarrassing…“
You give him a nervous smile.
“It is…“
But then you summon up all your courage and firmly look into his eyes.
“I don’t mind at all. Do you?“
Writer’s Notes:
This fic was inspired by two wonderful fics about Echo and strawberries: Lush Meadows by @the-rain-on-kamino and Strawberries by @arcsimper5.
One Shots Masterlist
Fic Series Masterlist
General Masterlist
PLEASE REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS ♥️🖤🦾
Taglist: @padawancat97 @starrylothcat @pb-jellybeans @littlefeatherr @sunshinesdaydream @the-bad-batch-baroness @antoinettesb @the-rain-on-kamino @goblininawig @neyswxrld @elephantwoman4 @proteatook
Fantastic story! Excitedly waiting for more!! Fives flirting, not hitting his mark. The 501st. Anidala. The intrigue is building. 😍
Good Graces
Chapter Three
Tags/Warnings: graphic (and casual) depiction of violence, wounds, death, etc.
Chapter WC: 4,449
A/N: Okay so this is going to be longer than I thought. Definitely less than 20 chapters, but probably more than 10, by virtue of me trying to keep these all under 10k each.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist
Esmé takes the lead as soon as they step out onto the street. She moves quickly, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. She doesn't so much as slow down, even when a couple bumps into her, muttering something under their breath. Fives has to jog to catch up with her, his steps a little clumsy in his haste, his arms swinging by his sides. She doesn't look back. She just keeps moving.
She's not okay. She's trying to hide it, but she's not. He can see it in the way her shoulders are pulled tight, her back ramrod straight. Her breathing is too fast, and her hands are shaking, her knuckles white. She's on edge, and it's more than just a brush with a bounty hunter. She's seen them before, that much is clear, and this isn't her first time having to deal with one.
Ahead, the crowds begin to thin, the streets emptying as they move farther away from the marketplace. It's quieter, the noise of the festival muffled by the tall buildings, and the air is crisp, a gentle breeze blowing through. It's not exactly a short walk, but Esmé makes quick work of it, her strides long and sure with the confidence of someone who's walked the same path a hundred times.
She doesn't speak, and Fives doesn't ask. He's not sure he wants to know the answer.
He's not really sure what happened. One minute, they were fine, and the next...well. He's not sure.
There had been a moment when they were in the alley. He'd grabbed her and covered her with his body. And maybe he should've said something, explained what he was doing, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd just stood there, and she hadn't protested.
He can still feel the warmth of her, the way her hair had tickled his face, her breath against his neck. Her skin had been soft beneath his fingertips, and she'd smelled sweet, like some kind of flower. She hadn't moved away. Hadn't tried to push him off. In fact, he'd swear that she'd leaned into him. Just a bit. Just for a second.
And then, in the blink of an eye, she was a million lightyears away. She'd practically sprinted out of the alley and onto the street, leaving him to follow. It had happened so fast, so suddenly, that he's still trying to wrap his head around it.
Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? He knows he has a habit of pissing people off, especially when he's nervous, but she'd been smiling. Maybe he was just seeing things, hoping for something that wasn't there, and the fact that he's already starting to spiral is a sign that he's screwed this up beyond repair.
He's not going to give up. He can't. There's something between them. He can feel it. He just has to figure out how to bring her walls down.
“Bounty hunters are like sand fleas," Fives speaks up, trying for a joke. Anything to break the tension, anything to distract her. "Once you get one, you just end up with a hundred more. They're annoying like that."
Esmé doesn't laugh. She doesn't even crack a smile. She just keeps walking, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her.
Alright, that was a bust. He clears his throat and tries again.
"So, you...uh...you've got experience with bounty hunters, I take it?"
"What gave it away?" she asks, her voice dry and her lips pursed.
Okay. He deserved that. He can't help the snort that escapes him.
"Yeah, fair enough," he concedes with a shrug. He scratches the back of his head, his gaze flicking towards her and then away. "Do they...do they come after you guys a lot?"
"Sometimes."
"Is it always bounty hunters, or do you get a little bit of everything?" he asks. She doesn't reply, and he's not sure she's going to. He doesn't want her to shut down, not again. He sighs and tries a different approach. "I heard you got attacked a while back. A bunch of droids, or something, right? Was that... Was that your first time?"
Esmé stops suddenly, and Fives almost runs into her. They're not far from the Senator's apartments, only a block or two away, but he's grateful for the reprieve. His arm is aching, the bag of groceries hanging heavily from his hand, and his legs are burning from his attempts to keep up with her.
"No," Esmé says, her voice low. She looks up at him and purses her lips. "No, that wasn't the first time."
"Oh."
That's all he can think to say. Oh. It doesn't really feel adequate, doesn't really capture the full depth of his surprise and confusion and...and anger.
Anger, because he knows that this can't be normal, and the fact that she's clearly had to do this more than once means that there's a problem. It means that the Senate, the GAR, everyone, has failed.
Failed her.
He's not sure why, but that bothers him. Maybe it's the fact that he and his brothers are supposed to be part of the solution, part of the solution to all the problems in the galaxy, and yet he's standing here, talking to a woman who has clearly been attacked more times than she's willing to admit, and who doesn't even seem surprised by it. Or maybe it's just because he likes her, and the thought of someone trying to hurt her makes him feel sick.
Fives doesn't like it. He doesn't like any of it.
They stand in silence for a few moments, their eyes locked, and then Esmé turns away, her gaze flitting over the nearby rooftops. She's looking for the hunter, or at least he assumes she is. Her hand is resting on her blaster, her fingers tracing the handle, and she's chewing on the inside of her cheek, her brow furrowed.
"You're right," she mutters as she starts walking again.
Fives hurries to catch up, his boots loud against the paved stone. He looks at her, confused, and raises a brow. "About what?"
"About bounty hunters." Her eyes meet his for a moment, and her lips press together. "Where there's one, there's another. We should hurry."
He doesn't need to be told twice. They fall into step with each other, and she leads the way, her stride steady and her back straight. Fives keeps pace, his gaze sweeping the nearby rooftops, his stomach churning.
He should have been faster, should have acted sooner, should have known. He should have seen the threat coming, should have had a better response, and should have had a better plan. He shouldn't have been so distracted by her, and he shouldn't have let himself get caught off guard. He should have been better.
He'll have to be better.
“Captain,” Fives speaks into his comm, his voice quiet. "I think we might have a problem."
There’s no response, and he frowns. He taps his vambrace.
"Rex?"
Silence.
His gut twists, and his steps falter. He stops, his hand reaching for his blaster, his gaze searching the rooftops above him. The sun is starting to dip below the horizon, the shadows lengthening and the sky growing dark. There are windows everywhere, and the balconies are crammed with potted plants, the railings lined with colorful fabric and the windowsills decorated with small statues and lanterns. It would be easy to hide, even in plain sight.
Esmé pauses, her attention on him, her expression expectant. He shakes his head.
"It's probably nothing," he says, trying to sound casual. "Probably just a faulty connection. I'll try again—"
"Don't," she cuts him off, her voice hard. "If they're jamming communications, then we don't want them to know we're onto them."
"But the others," Fives begins as he gestures helplessly, his hand waving in the air. "If they don't know, then—"
"We're not far," she assures him. There's a hint of compassion in her voice. It's not much, just a slight softening of the edges, but it's enough to show that she does care. More than she lets on. "Just a few minutes. We can handle a few minutes."
"Yeah," he agrees. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders squaring. "You're right. We've got this."
Esmé nods.
"Good," she says. "Let's go."
They move quickly, their steps echoing down the narrow alleyways, the music and chatter of the festival fading the farther they go. They reach the building where Senator Amidala is staying within minutes, and Fives feels himself relax when he sees the troopers are still posted outside. Esmé doesn't slow. She walks right past them, her hand on her blaster, and heads straight for the door.
The men look startled, and then confused, their helmets moving from Esmé to Fives, and then to each other. Esmé strides through the lobby and disappears into the turbolift, her finger jabbing the button, and Fives has to run to catch up with her before the lift doors close on him.
"Don't let anyone else in," he calls over his shoulder as the doors slide shut, and then the lift is moving, the numbers climbing higher and higher.
Fives shifts his weight from foot to foot, his grip on the bag tight. He can see their distorted reflection on the metal surface, the bags beneath his eyes and the tense line of his shoulders. His helmet is still sitting on the coffee table, and it feels like a mistake. He should have kept it on. Should have been ready for a fight.
They're nearly at the top when a burst of muffled blasterfire reaches their ears, the sound coming from the floor above. They freeze as their gazes meet in the reflection. The distorted version of Esmé nods once, and he does the same. She draws her blaster, her fingers curling around the handle, and her thumb flicks the safety off.
The turbolift slows to a stop, and the doors open with a soft chime.
The scene in front of them is chaos.
Bodies litter the hallway, the floor and walls littered with holes and scorch marks, the plaster cracked and the tile broken. The door to the Senator's apartment hisses as it opens and closes repeatedly, stuck on the security droid lying deactivated in the entrance. Two RNSF soldiers are sprawled in the middle of the hallway, blood pooling beneath them, their eyes glassy and their bodies limp.
Esmé lets out a breath, taking a step forward, and Fives reacts without thinking. He grabs her and shoves her back into the turbolift, and her back hits the wall with a thud. Her eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open as a gasp escapes her.
"Stay here," he orders. His hands are on her shoulders, holding her in place. "Wait for the Captain."
A furious look washes over her, and Esmé's nostrils flare. "You can't—"
"Stay. Here," he repeats, dropping the bag of groceries beside her. He pulls his pistols from their holsters, his grip tight and his jaw clenched. "Do not leave this turbolift."
Fives doesn't give her a chance to argue. He steps into the hallway and hits the control panel, and the doors closes on her protests, her face vanishing from view. The sound of a fist banging on the door is the last thing he hears before the lift starts moving.
He can't wait. He has to act, now, before the situation gets any worse. He takes a deep breath, his gaze flitting between the fallen men, and then he rushes forward, his strides long and his blasters raised.
His mind is racing, a million thoughts flitting through his head at once. Where are the others? Who is attacking the Senator's security detail? Are they even still alive? Who else has the clearance to access the floor?
He should have done a perimeter sweep. He should have checked the rooftops. He should have made sure the area was clear. He shouldn't have let his guard down. He shouldn't have left his squad. He should have—
Fives pushes the door open and stumbles to a stop, his body slamming into the door frame.
The room is a mess. Blasterfire has ripped through the walls, the plaster shredded, chunks of rock and wood scattered across the floor. Furniture is broken, the sofa torn and the cushions ripped, and a painting lies crooked on the wall, a hole punched through the canvas.
Kix is kneeling on the ground, hovering over Tup, whose hand is pressed to his chest, his armor stained red. Jesse and Rex are crouched behind a pile of upturned furniture, their bodies angled towards the staircase. A man dressed in black lies on the ground, his limbs akimbo, his body still.
The Senator and General Skywalker are nowhere to be seen.
Jesse notices him first. His head turns towards Fives, and he holds a finger to the mouth of his helmet.
Fives nods and creeps inside, his back brushing against the wall, and he keeps his blasters trained on the stairs. There's no movement, and no noise except for the sound of Kix working, his hands quick and his movements practiced.
Fives edges closer, his steps careful, and he ducks behind the pile of furniture.
"What's the situation?" he whispers.
"Bounty hunter," Rex answers. He sounds tired, his voice rough, and his body is slumped against the couch. "He had some kind of disruptor on him. Jammed our comms."
"Is he alone?"
"He is now." Rex nods toward the body. "Tup got him. Barely."
Fives risks a glance over at Kix, who's applying bacta to Tup's chest. Tup's breathing is labored, his face pale, but his eyes are open. He gives Fives a weak smile, his hand raising in a small wave, and Fives waves back.
He takes a breath and turns his attention back to the staircase.
"Senator and General?" he asks.
"General's guarding the Senator. She took a shot to the shoulder. They're barricaded in her room."
Fives feels a wave of guilt wash over him. He should have been here. Should have helped. Instead, he was off, flirting with a pretty girl and buying groceries, and his brothers were stuck fighting a battle without him.
He should have known.
"Where's your handmaiden?" Jesse asks. "She alright?"
"In the lift," he replies. "I told her to stay put. Figured she was safer there than out here."
"And you think she's gonna listen to you?"
"No," he admits, his lips twisting into a wry smile. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Probably not."
Jesse lets out a huff of amusement, and he leans forward, his gaze fixed on the staircase. There's a long, jagged crack running up the wall, the paint peeling away. There's blood on the railing, and more splattered against the wall. Someone had been hit. Fives hopes it wasn't the Senator.
Fives scans the area, his gaze flickering from one corner to the next. He doesn't see any traps, any signs of hidden enemies, or anything else that might indicate a potential threat. The apartment is silent, and it's almost unnerving, the lack of noise making his skin crawl.
A second later, the warble of a lightsaber and the sound of pounding feet reaches their ears. Someone is running towards them, fast and hard, and the other troopers are on their feet before Fives can react, their weapons raised. They're all aiming at the stairs, their stances wide, their shoulders tense and their fingers ready.
The footsteps come closer, and then the figure appears, leaping down the stairs two at a time, their head down and their arms pumping. They're wearing a heavy cloak and a hood, a long scarf wrapped around their neck, and Fives only has a moment to register the familiarity of it all before the figure is sprinting past, and then diving for the window.
Fives propels himself forward, intercepting them, his arms wrapping around their waist, and he slams them both into the floor, his shoulder colliding with the ground. The impact knocks the air from his lungs, and he groans as an elbow cracks into his nose, his grip releasing on instinct.
The bounty hunter gets to their feet and dodges the blaster bolts Rex and Jesse fire at them. They reach the window and pull the curtains aside, their hands reaching for the latch, and they throw the window open. A gust of wind sweeps through the room, blowing the curtains wide and knocking a potted plant onto its side.
A single, precise shot rings out, and the bounty hunter's body jerks.
Their knees buckle, legs folding under them, and they crumple to the ground. The window slams shut, and the curtains fall back into place. Fives looks from the dead body to the window, and then to the source of the shot.
He hadn't even heard Esmé approach, hadn't heard her enter the room, but there she is, standing in the doorway, her blaster still raised, the bag of groceries hanging over her arm. She lets out a sigh and holsters her weapon.
She killed him.
Just like that. In a single shot, without so much as a second glance, and Fives... he's not sure what to do with that. It's one thing for a clone or a Jedi to kill a person, but for a civilian, a handmaiden, to do it? Without a hint of hesitation or remorse? He's not sure he's ever seen something like that before.
Rex lowers his blasters, and the others do the same. They look at her, and then each other, and then back at her. No one says a word.
Fives swallows and slowly pushes himself to his feet, his palms pressing into the carpet, his eyes still fixed on Esmé. She's looking down at the body with barely a hint of emotion, her mouth twisted in distaste. She seems more annoyed than anything.
"I told you to stay put," Fives tells her, touching his nose gingerly. It's not what he wants to say. There are a thousand other things he should be saying, should be asking, but that's what comes out. "Couldn't listen for five minutes, could you?"
Esmé ignores him as she takes a tentative step inside. Her eyes land on Tup, and her brows draw together.
"Are you alright?" she asks softly.
Tup's head is propped up against the wall, his helmet discarded on the floor, his hand pressed to his chest. He tries to sit up, but Kix pushes him back, and Tup winces, his teeth bared.
"I'm fine, ma'am," he says, his voice hoarse. He manages a grin, his cheeks flushed. "Just a scratch."
General Skywalker appears at the top of the stairs, his expression stormy and his robes rumpled, his hair a mess and lightsaber held tightly in his hands. The tension drains from his shoulders when his gaze lands on them. He glances at the body and then at Esmé, and his brows raise.
"Nice work, Es," he says with a sigh, and he deactivates his lightsaber, clipping it to his belt. "How many was that, now?"
Esmé's lip curls.
"Eight," she answers flatly. She's still focused on Tup, her eyes moving over his body, cataloguing the damage. "You should have had a better security detail, Anakin."
"Oh, yeah? I'll keep that in mind next time," the General scoffs.
"Do that."
Fives looks between them, his eyes darting from General Skywalker to Esmé and back again. The Senator comes around the corner a few seconds later, moving slowly. She's holding a hand over her shoulder, the other wrapped around her torso, and she's pale, her face pinched and her robes torn. She takes a step forward toward the stairs, but she stumbles, and General Skywalker is there in an instant, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her upright.
The calm expression on Esmé's face fades, and for the first time since the attack began, Fives sees fear flicker across her features. The bag of groceries falls from her hands, hitting the floor with a loud thump, and she starts forward across the room and up the stairs.
Fives watches her go, his chest tight.
The others are talking, but he doesn't hear them. He's watching Esmé, watching the way her face softens as she helps the Senator, her arm wrapping around her back and her hand coming to rest on her hip, supporting her weight. She's murmuring something, too quiet for him to hear, and the Senator's head drops onto her shoulder, her eyes falling closed.
It doesn't make sense.
Nothing about her makes sense.
She's a handmaiden, a servant. She's a civilian. She shouldn't know how to shoot, shouldn't be able to defend herself, and she definitely shouldn't be able to take out a bounty hunter like it's nothing. She shouldn't be so good at it. And yet... she is.
The Senator is leaning against Esmé, her hand gripping the back of her tunic, her body curled into her side. Esmé doesn't seem to notice the weight, her focus fixed on the Senator, her voice soft and soothing.
Something about the scene is unsettling. She should be frightened, should be afraid. She should be shaking, or crying, or something. Instead, she's standing there, her hand rubbing slow circles on the Senator's back, her chin resting atop her head, and her eyes are hard.
The General says something, and then he and the Senator disappear back around the corner. Esmé follows, her hand resting lightly on the Senator's arm, and Kix is on his feet, rushing after them, the medkit in his hands.
Fives should follow. He should make sure the Senator is okay. He should check on the rest of the men, and make sure the building is clear, and call for a clean-up crew, and find out how the hell a bounty hunter was able to get past them all and into the Senator's apartments.
But he can't seem to make his feet move.
He's frozen. His whole body feels like lead, his hands shaking and his heart pounding. He can't seem to shake the visual of Esmé, her face twisted with determination, her aim true, and her eyes hard.
Eight.
The number rings in his head, repeating over and over. Eight. Eight bounty hunters she's killed. Eight attempts on the Senator's life, and each time, Esmé has been the one to stop them. It should be impossible. It should be a fluke. But the General had said eight like it was nothing, and Esmé hadn't denied it.
And then, in the space of a single, heart-stopping moment, Fives understands.
It's like everything is falling into place, and the puzzle is finally complete, the picture coming together. She's not just a handmaiden. She's not just a civilian. She's not even a soldier.
She's a trained killer, and a damn good one.
"So," Jesse starts, his voice cutting through the silence, his helmet tilted in Fives' direction. He has his arms hooked underneath one of the bounty hunter's, and he's dragging them out onto the balcony. "You going to tell us what happened with her, or...?"
"Or what?"
"Or I'm gonna start guessing," he replies, his voice teasing. He sounds completely unfazed by what just happened, like taking out a bounty hunter is an everyday occurrence, which, considering who they are, it kind of is. "I mean, I've got a lot of ideas. And none of them are very nice."
"Well," Rex chimes in as he moves to help lift the dead weight, "he did spend the evening with a pretty girl. We all know how those usually go."
Fives rolls his eyes, and he can't help the chuckle that escapes him.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," he mutters. He crosses the room and bends down, grabbing the abandoned bag of groceries and scooping the fruit that had spilled out back into the bag. "You got me. I spent my evening trying to flirt with a pretty girl, and it went so well she shot someone in the head."
Rex snorts, and Jesse lets out a loud bark of laughter. Tup just grins, his lips stretched into a wide, teasing smile.
"You were gone for a long time," he points out, his eyes dancing with amusement. "What took you so long?"
"I had a lot of flirting to do," Fives retorts, and the men laugh again. He smirks, straightening. "A lot of groceries to buy. Besides, you can't rush these things. You gotta go at the lady's pace. Right, Captain?"
Rex holds his hands up in surrender as he drops the bounty hunter's body beside the railing.
"Don't drag me into this," he warns, shaking his head. "I've got enough problems as it is."
"Ah, come on, Rex. You and General Anathorn are adorable," Jesse teases, and Rex shoots him a dark look. "Maybe you can give Fives some advice."
"Yeah, Rex. Advice."
"You know, I think you boys have got this handled," Rex says dryly. He heads for the stairs, his steps brisk. "I'm going to go see if General Skywalker needs help."
The men chuckle and wave him off.
Fives watches him go, and then turns back to his brothers, his gaze scanning the apartment. The windows are cracked, and the plaster is ruined, but the furniture is still in one piece, and the walls are mostly intact. They're lucky the place is still standing, and that no one was seriously hurt. It could have been a lot worse.
The Senator is alive, and so are the rest of them. And maybe his ego is a little bruised, but he'll survive. At least Esmé had shot the bounty hunter, and not him. Small mercies.
It's going to take a while to figure her out. And honestly, it probably won't be worth the effort. There are a million beautiful women in the galaxy, and there's no reason why he should get hung up on this one.
There's no reason at all.
Fives sighs and shakes his head.
"Yeah, well," he begins. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and looks over his shoulder towards the balcony. "I don't think there's gonna be a second date."
Taglist: @baddest-batchers @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish @floofyroro @veralii
Thank you @stellarbit for this fun take on my request! That came from your brain so quickly! I love it! 😻
(Is this where requests are submitted? Hope so!)
1000 followers! I can’t even fathom that. Well done!
Was hoping for a SFW using “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.” Female in the periphery of 501st (mech/nurse/comms) who is on the quieter side. Hanging out with the usual mouthy suspects (playing sabacc or watching a game) as the boys throw insults and tease each other. She throws in the occasional pointed zinger and it gets their attention. Then it’s on! Playful banter ensues. An intellectual “geeky girl takes off her glasses and is finally noticed” feel. Thank you for considering my request.
Thank youuuuuu for the request. This was super fun but WARNING I don't actually understand sabacc so beware I winged it a lil.
All Bets Are Off
Word Count: 2.2k Pairing: platonic 501st x fem!reader Warnings: insinuation of gambling and bad portrayal of sabacc Summary: Jesse, Kix, Dogma, Tup, and Fives decide to play sabacc after finding you tinkering away alone. Dogma can't win, probably doesn't know how to, and you decide to lend a hand.
General Skywalker left much of his plans for the upcoming mission to the imagination of the 501st. All preparations that could be made with the few details given were already put into motion - leaving you and your squad with ample time to kill on the Resolute.
The General personally recruited you after your help decrypting Separatist communications during a mission on your home planet. You’d been hesitant at first, having no combat experience and the desire for a quiet life, but accepted regardless.
The men of the 501st battalion did their best to put you at ease and yet, even after a few weeks with them, you still sat in an adjustment period. Not that that stopped them from loitering around you in their downtime. You were their first taste of female attention that wasn’t Jedi, though, they’d never admit it. In return you were boundlessly entertained by the clones, though, you rarely showed it.
Having come upon you tinkering with a broadband transceiver, Jesse, Kix, Fives, Tup, and Dogma took up a game of sabacc to ‘keep you company’, as they put it. All the while, you snuck glances from the sidelines. Three rounds in and Jesse was on top with Dogma sourly coming in last.
“Admit it, Dogma, you don’t even know how to play.” Jesse laughed, triumphantly splaying out his cards on the table.
A chorus of groans rounded the group, accentuated by Dogma slamming a hand on the table. Quickly on his feet, Dogma jabbed an accusatory finger across the table. “I know how to play. You’re just getting lucky.” He curled his lip and harshly gestured to Tup who sat beside him. “I bet he isn’t even shuffling correctly!”
One corner of your lips tipped into a smirk. Dogma may have been wrong about Tup’s shuffling, but, at least for where you sat, it did seem luck fueled Jesse’s winning streak.
Tup swept his hands around the table, gathering the cards for another round. Ever the patient man, Tup only shook his head at his brother’s accusation. Kix, on the other hand, would never miss an opportunity to rile his tightly wound brother.
Smirking, the medic leaned over the table, tauntingly saying, “If you’re so sure, maybe you should deal next.” Tup smiled, nodded, and offered the deck to Dogma. His suggestion only further annoyed Dogma, who pointedly shoved Tup’s hand away.
As Tup started divvying out the cards, Kix continued, “And you’ll need a bigger tattoo to hide those tells, mate.” You paused your work solely to catch the predictable, red tint Dogma’s face took on.
“You’re one to talk,” Fives retorted with a chuckle, glancing at his first card and then smirking mischievously at Kix. “You couldn’t bluff your way out of a paper bag.”
“How do you-”
Jesse cut Kix short, “You pick up an extra card every time you think you’ve got a good hand.” The entire table murmured in humored agreement before settling into determined silence once the cards were dealt.
It was funny, you thought, how they pestered one another. They really were brothers at the core of it all.
Your hands remained still as you dialed in on the game. Initially, you drowned out their commotion during the first round. By the end of the second round, you were purposely eavesdropping - which might not have been the right word considering they’d stepped in on your work as opposed to the other way around. In the last round you’d started tracking who laid down what, correctly predicting Jesse’s win. You’d been counting their cards.
As the next round started you didn’t see the harm in possibly lending poor Dogma a little help. You were sure that Tup was right in Dogma’s knowledge of the game, but that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a little boost.
Nonchalantly positioning yourself for a view of the whole table, you kept an eye on the cards going around. It seemed that Jesse’s streak might finally break, and fortune was turning in Dogma’s favor.
Confident the other men had equally as bad hands, or worse, than him, you nearly turned away until Dogma started reaching for the draw pile. Hoping to stop him, you purposely scraped your spanner into the device in hand. By chance, the noise stalled him enough to glance towards you.
In a subtle second, you gave a discouraging shake of your head. His eyes stayed on you, albeit with a suspicious glint, as he retracted his hand. Dogma was in no way subtle and his obtuse reaction, just like all of his other tells, was not lost on his squad. You were back to looking busy by the time heads turned your way.
The moment the men returned their attention to the game you followed suit. For reasons unknown to you, Dogma maintained a frustrated expression despite the fact that you knew he had the lowest count hand. At that point, you were certain - he had no clue what the point of the game was or what it took to win.
The round came to an end when Tup passed on his turn. It was Dogma’s best chance at winning and luckily Dogma did you the favor of looking your way without signal. You quickly mouthed ‘call’ before the others caught on.
Tup did lean back in search of Dogma’s distraction, surprised to find you spectating. A small smile was all it took for Tup to shrug off his suspicions.
“Call.” Dogma announced with more confidence than you’d expected.
The table erupted in mild laughter, with Kix nudging Jesse playfully. Jesse leaned forward, eyebrow raised skeptically. "You're bluffing."
"I second that," Kix chimed in. "No way I'm folding."
"Not a chance," Jesse added.
"And what keeps catching your eye?" Fives turned sharply, his suspicion fading as soon as he saw you. Leaning back with a relaxed grin, he draped an arm over the back of his chair. "Didn’t think you’d be interested in card games," he teased. “Or take you for a gambling woman.”
Catching the curious glances from the group, you shrugged lightly, your voice laced with feigned boredom, “Oh, I don’t gamble.” Setting aside the transceiver with the same small smile you gave Tup. “That’s for people who need luck.”
A round of “oohs” filtered through the group, each of the clones smirking to one another.
Fives’ head dipped, clearly amused by the jab. “That’s some big talk.” He nodded again to the table at this back. “Alright then, you tell us who’s going to win.”
You attempted a thoughtful frown but the edge you had on them wouldn’t let you stop smiling. “Well, I know it won’t be you.”
A sharp snort came from across the table. You and Fives peaked over at Dogma, who was finally showing some light heartedness. The smile Dogma finally wore made you feel even more confident in your interjecting. The man really needed to loosen up and you were glad to help.
Unbothered, Fives peered back at you then around the table at each of his brothers. “Not me, huh?” Slinking his arm back around he smoothly glanced at his cards once more and, with a casual flick of his wrist, exposed his hand.
Eager to see the results, you shoved out of your seat to stand at Fives’ shoulder. You were disappointed to see your prediction was a card off, but only by the suit, not the number. And, if you were right, Dogma still had the winning hand.
The others groaned and tossed their cards in. Jesse, visibly knocked down a peg, clicked his tongue and shoved his cards in Tup’s direction. The motion turned the cards face up and revealed a hand that lost to both Fives and Dogma.
You eyed the cards Tup gathered before looking over at Dogma. He had an iron grip on his two cards and an odd expression pinching his face. It was a mix between worry, confusion, and forced composure. Altogether it would be best described as outright discomfort.
Sighing, you relaxed with your head cocked to the side. Pointing over at him you nodded, “Go on Dogma,” you paused, shoring up the courage to join their ribbing. “Show them what it’s like to lose.”
Tup laughed heartily, stopped organizing the cards to give Dogma a sarcastic pat on the shoulder. “Yeah, c’mon Dogma. Show us.”
Instead of shoving Tup off, Dogma smacked his cards down in front of him. He kept the faces hidden beneath his hand for a suspenseful moment before unveiling his winning hand.
Dogma’s discomfort melted away as Tup’s sarcasm turned congratulatory while the others scoffed about Dogma’s luck.
In a show of disbelief, Jesse snapped his head in your direction. His tattoo was distorted by the severe pinching of his brows. “How’d you know he was going to win?”
Fives leaned in on his elbows, waving a dismissive hand. “Everyone gets a little lucky.” The dismissal bit into your pride, a slight you wouldn’t let pass.
Bringing your face to his level, you purred to Fives, “Like I said, I don’t need luck Corporal.” You mimicked Tup’s gentle pat to the shoulder as you straightened back out. “If you must know, it’s called ‘counting cards’.”
“You counted the cards?” Kix leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, and wearing an incredulous grin. “From over there?” He exchanged a shake of his head with Jesse beside him.
In a voice that was more impressed than incredulous Jesse said, “It does seem like a reach.”
“You’re just mad that you lost.” Dogma interjected, sending a reassuring nod your way. Out of his squad, he’d been the least personable with you up to that point. Not that his struggle with the softer touches of rapport building ever offended you, it just made the small display of kindness stand out more than it would coming from the others.
Unfortunately, his newfound endearance put you on the spot when he followed up by saying, “In fact, I bet she’d wipe the floor with you lot.”
Dogma wasn’t smiling at you as his brothers turned fully on you, but he was positively brimming with pure confidence in you. He was so much easier to win over than you’d expected and yet, for all he knew, you could’ve just gotten lucky. His borderline blind faith was concerning as it was flattering.
“Well…” Your voice trailed off as the weight of their expectant smiles settled in.
Fives shifted completely around in his chair, soaking up the awkward twinge in your smile. “I’ll take that bet.”
Something about the way his eyebrow quirked up at you in challenge made your stomach flip. For the sake of your sanity you hoped it was born from friendly competition as opposed to charm.
Sucking on a tooth, you gave it one last thought and rolled your eyes. “If you want to go broke that badly, I won’t say no.”
Your compliance, reluctant as you tried to make it seem, roused another round of cheering from the men. Fives and Jesse gladly scooted apart, making way as you drug a chair over.
While you settled in, Tup chuckled as he began shuffling the cards, “If we’d known you liked sabacc, we’d have made you join ages ago.”
Brushing off nonexistent dust from your sleeve you replied, “If I’d known you were this easy to beat I’d have joined ages ago.” Earning their jovial reactions was weirdly satisfying and made you a little annoyed you hadn’t warmed up sooner.
“Alright, alright. Enough chatter.” Fives said in a warm tone. He sat close enough that he only had to lean over slightly to bump into you. “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is, Shorty.”
Your face heated a bit, neck nearly snapping as you looked up at him. Jesse’s laugh cut you off as you tried to refute the moniker. You weren’t quick enough in turning on Jesse before Kix piped up.
“You are shorter than, well, all of us.”
Even Dogma seemed amused by their joking with you. For him, it probably felt nice for the center of the joking to just not be him for a while. And… it didn’t feel bad either to get the same treatment as they all did.
Despite scoffing to yourself, there was no hiding your enjoyment. A feeling had been bubbling in you through the entire interaction and, without warning, you started laughing loudly and genuinely. Unbeknownst to you, as eager as you were to keep them laughing, seeing your real smile for the first time made the 501st boys just as determined to keep you smiling.
“I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.” You mumbled as the laughter subsided.
“Ahh, stick with us and I’ll bet you’ll be sick of it.” Tup said, earning an agreeable mumble from the rest of his brothers.
You shrugged, unconvinced. “I’ll take that bet.”
Ohmigosh. THE SEQUEL❣️ SUGARPOP! My heart exploded when I saw this. 💥 💖 It is kriffing perfect and everything I hoped it would be! Thank you…. Thank you! @vodika-vibes is a legend!!
# sometimes a sneaky suggestion works #PopBly is my new fave #they deserve the happiness #Bly is a true hero #Cody is a putz and never deserved her # the Sugarpop Saga
She Could Have Been Mine
A companion piece to Sugarpop
Summary: Cody realizes what he lost.
Pairing: Background Commander Bly x F!Reader, Commander Cody
Word Count: 1086
Warnings: None? Minor angst
A/N: So, I finally wrote the sequel/companion piece to Sugarpop that so so many of you asked for. I hope you all like it.
Click HERE to be added to my taglist
Loving her is easy.
She’s easy to love. Kind and gentle, warm and welcoming in a way you don’t see often outside the Jedi.
For Cody, loving her is as natural as breathing.
And yet, he’s known from the start that she was too good for him. Someone like her deserves only the best. And Cody is far from the best.
So he does what he knows has to be done. He keeps his distance, treating her like a dear friend, almost a sister, but nothing more. He meets other women and dates them, and she always greets them with a warm smile and a baked treat.
And he ignores the way that she looks at him. The way she smiles at him.
He ignores how her smile falters when he introduces another woman to the friend group. And he pretends he can’t see her heart breaking in her eyes every time he chooses someone else.
It’s for the best.
She deserves better than him.
When she gets kidnapped, her front door kicked in and her apartment trashed, Cody’s heart drops. He’s sure that they’re going to find her body in a ditch somewhere on Coruscant.
He gives up on her.
He can’t conceive of the possibility that she survives something like that. It’s not like she’s a soldier or anything like that. She’s just a baker. And, as much as he loves her, he can’t cling to the faint hope that she might still live. He has a war to win.
Bly…doesn’t agree.
“You have no proof that she’s dead!” Bly snaps, as he’s held back by Wolffe and Fox. Cody’s grateful for it, for all that Bly seems like an easygoing guy, he’s not sure he’d win in a fistfight against him. “You’re giving up on her even though nothing is indicating she’s dead?! What kind of friend are you?”
“I’m a realist, Bly. She’s just a baker—”
Bly rips himself free from his brothers and manages to restrain his anger with great difficulty, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so disgusted with one of my own brothers before. I refuse to give up. I’m going to find her.”
Six months later, Cody is sure that Bly must have given up. Everyone else has.
And yet, Bly sends a simple message in the group chat, “I found her. She’s alive. Will return to Coruscant when deployment ends.”
For Cody, the message is like a breath of fresh air. He never, once, dared to hope that she might still be alive.
And, for the first time, Cody starts to think that maybe he’s been going about this all wrong. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for him to be honest with himself.
The first time Cody sees her after her long imprisonment, he almost doesn’t recognize her. Her hair is cropped shorter than he had ever seen before, and she looks like she’s lost weight…but when she sees him she offers the same warm smile that she always gave him.
The same smile that makes his heart skip a beat. The same smile that he fell in love with all those months ago.
“I’m glad you’re alright,” Cody offers as she walks over to him.
“Thank you. General Secura put me in touch with a mind healer at the temple, to help me process everything that happened to me. But…” She trails off, and looks away from him, her smile softening slightly, “I think I’m going to be alright.”
“That’s good. I’m glad the Jedi are willing to help you.”
“Well, General Secura said something about the kidnapping being half their fault? I’m not sure what she means, but she feels really guilty about it.”
Well, that’s news to him. But also, he doesn’t want to talk about the Jedi right now. Cody opens his mouth to say something, a rough plan on how he’d ask her on a date starting to form in the back of his mind.
Only he never gets the chance to speak.
“Sugarpop!” Her head turns to the side and a blinding smile crosses her face as she sees Bly standing there, “I was wondering where you slipped off to.”
Cody watches, stunned, as she turns away from him and skips over to Bly, not slowing as she crashes into him and wraps her arms around his neck. And he watches as Bly spins her around to work off some of that momentum, and then leans in to press his forehead against hers.
Oh.
Her hands come up and press against his cheeks, and a giggle he’s never heard before slips from her lips as Bly whispers something to her.
Oh.
A wry, slightly wistful, smile crosses his lips.
He missed his chance.
His gaze meets Bly’s for a moment, and then Cody looks away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t deserve to see this.
He hears Bly murmur something to her, and he glances at them in time to see her nod and slide back to the ground. “Are we still going to go to the—?” She trails off, her voice tinged in hope.
Bly grins at her and kisses her forehead, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He takes her hands for a moment, “Wait outside for me? I’ll be just a few minutes.”
“Alright.” She turns and smiles at Cody, “I’ll see you later, Cody!”
“Yeah. Later.” Cody watches her leave the building and then turns his attention to his brother.
“You alright, Codes?” Bly asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’m not an idiot and I know you love her?”
“I’m fine, Bly. I’m not entitled to her.”
Bly sighs, “Did you think she was going to wait forever?”
“No. Of course not.” He pauses and then rubs the back of his neck, “Is she happy?”
“I like to think so.”
“Then that’s good enough for me. Just…keep making her happy, and I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Stop worrying about me, dumbass. Go to your girl.”
“Fine, fine.” Bly turns to leave the building as well, “Oh, but I’m telling Wolffe and Fox that you’re feeling sad.”
Cody huffs out a laugh, “Thanks.” Then Bly and gone and Cody takes a moment to push his hand through his hair.
She could have been his if he hadn’t been such a moron. But then, he’s not sure he’d be able to make her as happy as Bly does.
He tilts his head back, and a bitter laugh slips from him, “Force, I’m such a kriffing idiot.”
@heidnspeak
@justiceandwar98
@etod
@kiss-anon
@lonewolflupe
@silly-starfish
@msmeredithrose
@cdblake1565
@badbatch-bitch
@continous-mistakes
@falconfeather23435
@tiredbi-peach
@kimiheartblade
@clones-cyare
@cc--2224
@0revna0
@mira-loves-star-wars
@trixie2023
@rebell-ious
@padawancat97
@sweater-sloot
@bekahcurlygirl
@bb8-99
@maniacalbooper
@wax-birds
@adriennelenoir
@omegaprime18
@bad4amficideas
@bekah_curlygirl
@dukeoftheblackstar
@yoitsjay
@liz-stat
@arctech-fox
All of their own CHOICES!
STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH // Choices "As your brother, I'm asking you to do the right thing."
These make me so happy!
Puppet Echo has arrived! This boy was such a labor of love and gosh he's cute. We're close to finishing the batch!
@dahscribbler hoping he can reunite with Fives one day.
We did deserve these! But Hardcase and Wrecker and their shared interests… 💙
just some clone meetings we deserved 🫶
Ahhh Fives. This is going to be good! Can’t wait for another chapter. Rex and Fives at the end of this chapter is dead perfect. ❤️🔥
Good Graces
Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Esmé Terel (Handmaiden!OC)
Tags/Warnings: Fives POV, romance, fluff, hurt/comfort, action/adventure, unrequited feelings, kinda enemies to lovers, forced proximity, awkward flirting, eventual smut, Fives is a bit much in this chapter but he evens out quick
Fic Summary: Assigned to protect Senator Amidala during high-stakes peace talks on Naboo, ARC Trooper Fives finds himself working alongside Esmé, one of Padmé’s longtime handmaidens. She’s disciplined, distant, and utterly unimpressed by his charm—exactly the kind of challenge Fives can’t resist. But when an unexpected crisis forces them into an uneasy partnership, he realizes there’s far more to Esmé than she lets anyone see. And he might just be in over his head.
Chapter WC: 2,172
A/N: I love Padmé's handmaidens and all the lore that goes with it, and I couldn't resist writing this. I'm aiming for about 10 chapters total. There's a new option on the taglist for this fic btw (feel free to update your choices if you don't want to be tagged in this).
Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist
It's a simple assignment. Escort Senator Amidala during the peace talks, ensure she stays safe, and after, if he's lucky, spend a night drinking and enjoying the sights of Naboo's capital city with his brothers. Easy enough.
Fives is well-versed in these sorts of things. The escort missions are some of the few types of jobs the 501st takes up outside of the battlefield. It's always senators, ambassadors, or important personages, and most of the time, they're content to let him and his brothers do their jobs, as they should.
He likes doing this. It's a breath of fresh air to the normal routine. Most of their missions, after all, tend to be high-risk, high-stress, and high-fatality. It's hard not to appreciate the simplicity of the assignments every once in a while, and he's sure it's the same for all the other troopers. They get to take a break from the fighting, and instead get to have the pleasure of walking among beautiful landscapes and beautiful people. It's not a bad gig.
He just wishes it wasn't Senator Amidala.
He has nothing against the Senator herself, of course. She's nice, polite, and professional, and she's very clearly well-acquainted with the ways of the galaxy. She's the exact opposite of the clueless, sheltered politicians he's so used to dealing with, and that alone puts her leagues above her peers in his mind.
But it's not her he's worried about.
It's her handmaiden.
Esmé is the sort of woman he'd go out of his way to meet on any other day. The kind of woman that would stop him dead in his tracks, make him reevaluate his life, and then make him consider dropping everything to chase her until she'd let him have her. He's never had an easy time ignoring his attraction to pretty girls, and Esmé is just that.
She's the picture of everything a Nabooian woman is supposed to be, with her dark, curling hair, golden skin, and a pair of large hazel eyes that shine a deep amber in the light. She's smart, beautiful, and a little bit mean, the sort of person Fives knows his brothers would joke about being his type. And they're right.
He doesn't believe in love at first sight, but Esmé is the closest thing he's ever found to it. She's perfect in almost every single way.
So, naturally, he doesn't understand why she hates him.
She doesn't look at him, doesn't talk to him, doesn't even acknowledge him. She barely spares him a second glance when they're together. Her words are curt, her tone cold, and she doesn't speak more than a few sentences to him even when he tries to engage her.
He's not entirely sure what he's done to offend her. He's never been anything but polite and friendly. Maybe a little too friendly in hindsight, but he can't imagine what would have set her off. The most she's ever given him was an annoyed look and a sigh when he'd tried to help her carry her things. She's never actually told him to fuck off, but it's obvious enough from the way she ignores him that he might as well not be there.
But even with how obviously she's avoiding him, he can't bring himself to dislike her. She's just... something else. It's hard not to think about her even when he's not around her, and he finds himself wanting her attention. Wanting her.
He's a bit of a glutton for punishment, he'll admit, but there's a certain thrill in knowing that Esmé could destroy him with a single word, and he'd thank her for it. He doesn't even know what it is about her. Maybe it's the challenge, maybe it's the fact that he's a weak man and a pretty face is all it takes to make him want to get on his knees and beg, or maybe it's something else entirely, but he doesn't think it really matters.
The point is, he wants her, and she's decided he's not worth her time.
If it were any other woman, he would have backed off. But it's not any other woman. It's her. And he can't stop himself from thinking about her, from staring at her, from wishing she'd spare him just a sliver of the attention she devotes to Senator Amidala.
It's a hopeless endeavor. She's completely disinterested, and he knows he should give up.
But he's stubborn, and a bit of an idiot, and he's not quite ready to let go. The universe has handed him the perfect opportunity, and he doesn't know if he'll ever get another chance like this to spend so much time alone with her. He doesn't know what he'll do, or what he'll say, but he'll figure it out.
He's not letting her go without a fight.
He's got the entire week.
All he has to do is figure out a way to win her over.
Fives trips the moment he's stepping out of the gunship.
The Senator's entourage, gathered on the landing pad, watches in abject horror as he falls forward, his helmet slipping off of his head as his hands fly out to catch himself. In his haste to follow General Skywalker out of the ship, his foot catches on the ramp and sends him stumbling forward. His bucket goes sailing through the air, bouncing off of the paved stones and skittering to a stop against Esmé's feet.
There's a moment of silence as he stares at his helmet in shock, his gaze trailing slowly up the delicately embroidered skirt, across Esmé's stomach, her chest, and finally, to her face. Her expression is carefully blank, but there's something about the look in her eyes that lets him know exactly how stupid he's just looked.
At her side, Senator Amidala holds a hand over her mouth to hide a smile, though her shoulders tremble slightly as she looks away. General Skywalker is outright snickering, and he can hear Jesse and Tup laughing loudly from inside the gunship behind him. Even Rex has the audacity to snort quietly as he steps down from the ramp.
Fives' ears burn as he jumps to his feet. A nervous chuckle escapes him as he dusts himself off.
"Ah. Um. Hi."
Esmé stares back at him blankly. She looks down at the helmet lying at her feet and then back up to him.
"I—" He starts down the ramp quickly, his eyes never leaving her. "That's..."
Esmé leans down and plucks the helmet from the ground before he can force any more words out. She holds it between her thumb and forefinger, inspecting the visor, her nose wrinkling slightly in distaste. He thinks she might laugh at him like the others, but instead, she gathers her sleeve in her hand and uses the fabric to rub the visor clean, ignoring him entirely.
He feels his chest go a bit warm at the sight, and his footsteps stutter.
General Skywalker claps him on the shoulder, laughing, and then he's walking past him towards Senator Amidala, greeting her warmly. She gives him a bright smile, and the two of them begin to talk in low tones, heads bent together as they walk away.
Esmé still hasn't looked at him, even as he comes to a stop at her side. Her eyes are still on his helmet, her lip curling slightly. She must feel him staring, because she looks over at him and quirks a brow, her gaze flicking downwards and then back up again.
He realizes belatedly that he's still watching her with his mouth open. He closes his mouth and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"You, um." Fives' tongue darts out to wet his lips. He clears his throat. "I'm Fives, by the way. ARC Trooper. Just in case you forgot. Or... if you didn't know. I don't think I ever introduced myself."
Esmé gives him a bland look.
He shifts his weight. Looks down at his helmet, then at her, then down again.
"...Right." He laughs nervously. "You probably already knew that."
She doesn't speak, merely holding out his helmet for him to take. He's quick to accept it, his cheeks going hot as their fingers brush. He tucks the helmet beneath his arm and rocks back on his heels, trying not to fidget under the heat of her stare.
"Thanks," he says lamely.
Again, she says nothing. But her gaze is still on him, and he wonders, briefly, if maybe now would be a good time to say something, maybe start a conversation, try and get to know her. Maybe if he could just find something they had in common, a shared interest, he could—
"Don't mention it," Esmé says finally. Her gaze trails downwards and back up. There’s a hint of…something in her tone. It's hard to tell what. Disdain? Indifference? Boredom? All three? "I suppose it’s not every day a man falls at your feet."
Fives nearly chokes on his tongue, his entire body going rigid as he stares down at her. He can hear the other troopers hooting with laughter behind him, but he's too caught off guard by her words to do anything but gape.
Had she just...was that a joke? A tease? Something else? It was hard to tell, with how emotionless her voice had sounded. But he sees her lips twitch, a barely-there tilt of the corner of her mouth that he'd have missed if he hadn't been looking for it.
Oh. Oh.
He hadn't thought—
Well, now. This changes everything.
He can’t seem to make his mouth work for a few long seconds. She's watching him now, a slight furrow in her brow, and suddenly, all he can think about is getting her alone and showing her exactly how willing he is to fall at her feet.
She seems to realize her mistake immediately. Her lips thin into a tight line, and her jaw goes tight. There's a subtle change in her demeanor, the way she holds herself, the look on her face. He can't place what it is, but something is different, and it's like someone's flipped a switch. Gone is the amused gleam in her eyes, replaced with a cool disinterest that makes his heart sink.
Esmé nods at him curtly, and then turns away, her shoulders squared and her chin held high. The rest of the entourage is already heading toward the transports waiting to take them into the city, and she follows without a backwards glance, her stride steady and sure.
"See you around," Fives calls after her, once he’s managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
Esmé’s shoulders tense slightly, her foot hovering in midair. It's brief, only a half-second of hesitation, and then she's continuing on her way, hands tightened into fists behind her back.
He watches as she stops to help Senator Amidala fix her shawl, tucking it back over the Senator's shoulder and brushing her hands along the fabric. The two exchange a few quiet words, their heads bent together, and then Esmé is turning and following the rest of the party towards the transport.
He can't help but admire the way she moves, her hair fluttering in the breeze, and the sway of her hips as she walks. There's a confidence in her, an air of authority that sets her apart from the rest of the handmaidens and staff trailing behind her, and it's mesmerizing to watch.
Maybe it's a trick of the light, or maybe he's imagining it, but he swears he sees her cast a glance back at him, her eyes narrowed. He stares back at her and grins, and he sees her shoulders go tight. She whips around quickly and marches towards the transport without another look back.
He feels his chest swell with something that feels dangerously close to hope.
That was the first time she'd ever spared him a second glance. And the first time she'd ever spoken to him directly. It might not have been much, but it was a start. A good one, he thinks. And it's something he can build off of.
Maybe this won't be as hard as he'd originally thought.
"Wow," Rex says from behind him.
"Yeah," Fives breathes. "Wow."
Rex gives him a pitying look and pats him on the back. He leaves his hand there as he starts herding Fives along, and Fives lets himself be led. He doesn't stop watching her, even as the transport doors close behind her and she disappears from view.
"You're not going to be any help this week, are you?" Rex asks, his voice low.
Fives shakes his head. He can't seem to wipe the smile off of his face.
"Nope," he answers distractedly, still trying to catch a glimpse of her through the tinted windows. "I'm gonna do something stupid, Rex. I can feel it."
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rex turn his gaze skyward as if praying for patience, his sigh heavy and put-upon.
"Of course you are."
Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @champagnejaig
@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak
@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario
@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano
@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear
@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777
@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean
@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus
@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark
@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland
at sunset
twitter | instagram
-
zatica liked this · 5 months ago -
sw-2020-1 reblogged this · 5 months ago -
ci-avmovies14 liked this · 5 months ago -
leos-multifandom-corner liked this · 5 months ago -
clonethirstingisreal reblogged this · 5 months ago -
starqueensthings reblogged this · 5 months ago -
clonethirstingisreal reblogged this · 5 months ago
-
starqueensthings reblogged this · 5 months ago
-
523rdrebel reblogged this · 6 months ago -
tink1221 liked this · 6 months ago -
clonethirstingisreal reblogged this · 6 months ago
-
kris1000-7 liked this · 6 months ago -
crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf reblogged this · 6 months ago -
523rdrebel liked this · 6 months ago
-
thecoffeelorian liked this · 6 months ago -
heidnspeak reblogged this · 6 months ago -
heidnspeak liked this · 6 months ago
-
starqueensthings reblogged this · 6 months ago
Voracious reader of your Star Wars / Bad Batch / Clone Wars FanFic and Fan Art
102 posts