Has This Been Done Yet

I love this picture so much like… that’s mom and dad (platonic)

“Brothers in the Making” pt.3

Command Squad x Reader

The fortress was carved straight into the mountainside — dark metal and cold stone, its towers punching through the mist like jagged teeth. Separatist banners snapped in the wind, and scout droids buzzed along the perimeter like angry insects.

You crouched with Obi-Wan behind a ridge just above the valley floor. The cadets were lined up beside you, low and quiet, eyes locked on the compound.

Anakin was, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be seen.

“Alright,” you whispered, tapping your datapad. “I count four main patrol paths. One blind spot. Minimal aerial surveillance.”

Kenobi nodded. “We can use the cliffside tunnel. I’ve seen this kind of layout before — there’s usually an access vent leading into the communications wing.”

You turned to your boys. “No heroics. Stay behind cover, stick to the plan, and no loud noises. Got it?”

They all nodded.

Except for Bacara, who raised a hand like he had a question.

You narrowed your eyes. “If this is about blowing something up—”

“I wasn’t gonna say that.”

“No loud noises.”

“Fine.”

Just as you leaned in to start your descent, a distant buzz and then a crash echoed from the other side of the fortress wall.

Everyone froze.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. “That wasn’t us, was it?”

You didn’t answer — because right then, Anakin skidded down the slope, cloak half-burnt, covered in dust and grinning like an idiot.

“Hey!” he called, too loud. “Good news! I found a side entrance—”

A siren wailed.

Turrets rotated.

Searchlights snapped to life and started scanning the cliffs.

You turned, face blank. “Did you trigger an alarm?”

Anakin pointed behind him. “Technically? The droid did.”

Rex, next to you, groaned into his gloves. “We’re all gonna die.”

Kenobi was already getting up, lightsaber in hand, perfectly composed as chaos exploded below.

“Plans change,” he muttered. “We improvise.”

“Oh yes,” you said flatly, drawing your blaster. “Let’s all just improvise our way into a heavily armed Separatist base. That’s definitely how I planned to spend my day.”

He gave you a look as you both started moving down the slope.

“You know,” Obi-Wan said over the rising noise, “I never thought I’d see the day you would be the voice of reason.”

You ducked behind a boulder, covering the cadets as they followed in. “Yeah, well, someone has to be the adult while your Padawan’s off starting a land war with a power converter.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You could always take him. Add him to your little army of foundlings.”

You gave him a flat look. “I already have five too many.”

Behind you, Fox tripped over his own boots and nearly bowled into Cody.

Kenobi raised an eyebrow.

You added: “And they bite.”

————

Inside the base, it was colder than the mountain winds outside — all durasteel corridors and flickering lights, the buzz of power conduits echoing through the walls like a warning.

You crouched behind a support pillar as another pair of droid sentries clanked past. The group had slipped in through the broken emergency access hatch Anakin had accidentally discovered — half of it still smoldering from whatever he'd done to override the lock.

You turned to Obi-Wan in a sharp whisper. “Splitting up is a terrible idea.”

“It’s efficient,” he replied calmly, peering around the corner. “You and I retrieve the senator’s daughter. Anakin and your foundlings run a perimeter diversion.”

“They’re kids.”

“It’s efficient,” he replied calmly, peering around the corner. “You and I retrieve the senator’s daughter. Anakin and your cadets run a perimeter diversion.”

“They’re kids.”

“Your kids,” he said smoothly. “And as you’ve reminded me — foundlings are expected to fight.”

You clenched your jaw. “They’re not ready for this.”

He met your eyes. “Neither were we, once.”

That stopped you cold.

He lowered his voice, just a touch. “They need the experience. He needs the responsibility.”

You looked across the corridor — to where Anakin was gesturing wildly with his hands, trying to give the cadets some kind of whispered briefing. Bacara was clearly ignoring him. Wolffe already had a stun grenade in hand.

You exhaled through your nose. “If they die—”

“They won’t.”

You gave him one last glare, then looked back at the boys. “If anything goes wrong, scream.”

Fox raised a hand. “Like—?”

“I will hear you. I will end whoever hurt you. Just scream.”

The cadets nodded, suddenly a lot more serious.

Anakin gave a quick salute. “We’ll meet you back at the east exit.”

Obi-Wan glanced at you. “Shall we?”

You rolled your eyes and moved out, both of you slipping into the shadowed hallway like water down a blade.

———

Your part of the mission was quick and clean. Every step was coordinated — you swept forward through dark halls while Obi-Wan silently disabled security systems, his movements graceful and lethal.

You’d never worked with a Jedi like this before — and you had to admit, it was… oddly satisfying.

No words were wasted. He moved, you moved. You dropped a droid with a blaster shot, he caught its partner’s blaster arm mid-swing and twisted it clean off. The two of you cleared the detention block in under four minutes.

“Cell 14,” Obi-Wan said, checking the datapad he pulled from a guard’s belt.

You were already unlocking the panel.

Inside, the senator’s daughter was scared but unharmed — pale, dressed in rich fabric, bound at the wrists.

“I’ve got her,” you said, pulling her close and cutting the ties.

She stared up at you. “Who are you?”

You gave her a faint smile. “Someone your mother owes a drink.”

———

Elsewhere, it was less smooth.

Anakin’s plan — and you used the word plan very loosely — had apparently included sneaking into the droid depot and causing a “small, contained distraction.”

That turned into blowing up a weapons rack, stealing a tank, and getting stuck in a three-way chase down the hallway with spider droids, sirens, and Wolffe yelling, “I SAID I WASN’T GONNA BLOW ANYTHING UP, BUT THEN HE HANDED ME A DETONATOR—”

“I thought it was a flashlight!” Anakin shouted back.

Rex was clutching the controls of the tank like his life depended on it. Bacara was on top of the thing firing wildly and screaming gleefully. Cody and Fox were halfway hanging out of the hatch, shouting directions and laughing hysterically.

“THIS IS NOT STEALTH!” Fox screamed.

“I’M DISTRACTING THEM!” Bacara grinned. “DISTRACTION MISSION SUCCESSFUL!”

“DEFINITELY not ready,” you muttered, back with Obi-Wan as you made your way to the rendezvous.

You could hear the tank before you even saw them.

Obi-Wan glanced sideways at you with a completely straight face. “Would now be a bad time to say you were right?”

You stared at the smoke trail in the distance. “I hate you.”

———

The escape was… a mess.

They made it out, of course. Somehow.

With a half-destroyed tank rolling in front of the group as cover, explosions at their backs, and Anakin cheering like they’d just won a podrace, the cadets had sprinted across the canyon with blaster bolts chasing their heels.

You’d covered the senator’s daughter with your own body the whole way.

Kenobi had deflected shot after shot, graceful and impassive, the calm center of a storm.

Once they’d finally cleared the base and reconnected with the ship, you spent the first ten minutes pacing the ramp with your helmet tucked under your arm, muttering curses in three different languages.

Then, after a full headcount and emergency takeoff, you finally collapsed into a seat in the main hold.

Everyone was quiet.

Even Anakin.

The cadets sat in a circle, scratched and bruised, letting adrenaline drain from their systems. You watched them from your spot, arms crossed, boots heavy on the floor.

Cody was staring at his hands like they didn’t belong to him.

Fox hadn’t said a word.

Bacara was still grinning, but it was thinner now.

You leaned forward, voice low. “You all did good.”

Five pairs of eyes turned to you.

“Not perfect. Not clean. But good,” you said, and your voice softened, just a touch. “You followed orders. You adapted. You survived.”

Wolffe swallowed, eyes flicking to the floor.

You stood, stepping forward, and placed a hand on the back of Cody’s neck — warm and grounding.

“You saw war today. The real thing. Not just drills. Not just training. And you all made it out.”

There was silence again.

Then Bacara mumbled, “Even if Skywalker tried to kill us all.”

“I heard that,” Anakin called from the cockpit.

“Good.”

You turned toward the boys again. “Rest up. You earned it.”

As they started to settle into sleep wherever they could — curled in corners of the hold, some using their packs as pillows — you moved quietly to the front of the ship.

Kenobi was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the stars pass through the viewports.

“You think they’re alright?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

He glanced at you. “They will be.”

You tilted your head. “So. What happened to your ship, exactly?”

He didn’t blink. “Mysterious failure.”

“Uh huh.”

“Sabotage, maybe.”

“Right.”

“Couldn’t possibly have been someone crash landing our ship.”

You sighed. “You Jedi are the worst.”

“I get that a lot.”

———

You hated the smell of Coruscant. Too clean. Too bright. Like chrome and false smiles.

But the senator’s estate was quiet, at least. High above the clouds, the landing platform was bordered by hanging gardens and silent droids, the building towering like a temple to wealth and secrecy.

You disembarked with the senator’s daughter at your side — safe, whole, and grateful.

The senator met you personally, eyes shining with relief. They pulled you into a tight embrace and whispered, “I owe you everything.”

Then they looked at your five cadets, lined up neatly and looking everywhere but directly at the senator.

“These boys…” the senator said slowly. “Are they—?”

You cut in smoothly. “Foundlings. Mine.”

A pause.

The senator raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating. They’re… sharp. Disciplined.”

“Lucky genes,” you said, smiling coolly.

Behind you, Fox was mouthing don’t say anything at Wolffe, who was visibly biting his tongue.

The senator looked thoughtful. “You know… there may be a place for them in security, when the time is right. We could find funding. Official channels.”

Your blood went cold.

But you smiled anyway.

“I’ll think about it.”

The senator nodded, clearly meaning well — but clearly dangerous.

You filed it away. Another warning.

They were not ready to be seen.

Not yet.

That night, back on the ship, the boys sat on the floor around you again, waiting for your orders.

But you just looked at them — really looked at them.

Wolffe’s bruise under his eye. Rex’s busted knuckles. Bacara’s scraped cheek. Cody’s silence. Fox’s slumped shoulders.

You said nothing at first.

Then, softly: “You did good.”

Five sets of eyes flicked up.

You gave them a small nod. “Get some rest. More training tomorrow.”

“Yes, buir,” they all said at once.

And you didn’t correct them.

Not this time.

————

Kamino had never felt this quiet.

Rain still lashed against the glass corridors. The white lights still hummed. Clones still trained, marched, sparred. But the air carried a tension now — tight and sterile, like the Kaminoans were watching every step.

Because they were.

The cadets noticed it first.

Extra cameras in the mess hall.

Silent observers hovering near the training chambers.

One of the newer units mentioned being taken aside and scanned after sparring.

And then, there was the way the five field cadets were treated.

Rex, Cody, Bacara, Fox, and Wolffe.

They were whispered about now — envied, doubted, even resented.

Rex heard a pair of cadets muttering behind his back in the armory.

“Think they’re better than us.”

“Just ‘cause they left Kamino.”

Bacara caught a shove in the hallway.

Fox started training harder, angrier.

You noticed it — how they stuck close together now. A small, tight unit. Good for war. Bad for brothers.

You were in the middle of correcting Bacara’s form during a sparring drill when you saw Jango watching from the overlook.

He didn’t call out to you. Just tilted his head, a silent signal.

You followed.

He was leaning against the wall in a private corridor, arms crossed.

“They’re pissed,” he said, voice low and steady.

You didn’t need to ask who.

“The Kaminoans?”

He nodded once. “Didn’t like you taking your cadets off-world. Especially not without their approval. You rattled their control.”

You leaned your back against the wall, arms folded. “That was your idea.”

He huffed a short breath of amusement. “They’re already talking about locking down field excursions. Increased isolation protocols.”

Your jaw tensed. “They’re kids. Not droids.”

“They’re property,” he said bitterly. “According to Kamino.”

You looked down at the floor, teeth clenched.

“They’re more than that,” you muttered.

He gave you a look. “Then you better teach them to act like it. Before this place eats them alive.”

————

Later that day, it happened.

Two cadets shoved Fox after a sparring match. Said he thought he was too good for the rest of them now.

Fox didn’t fight back.

But Wolffe did.

Cody pulled him off before it escalated, but not before everyone saw.

The whole training floor went dead silent.

You walked into the middle of it.

And no one said a word.

You turned, looking around at all of them — rows of half-grown clones, armor scuffed, breath caught.

“Line up.”

They did.

All of them. Even the ones still panting from the fight.

You stood in front of them, helmet tucked under your arm, rain streaking down the windows behind you.

“I’ve been too soft on you.”

A murmur rippled through the room.

You raised your voice.

“I wanted you to feel like brothers. I wanted you to find your names. To find yourselves. But that doesn’t mean forgetting what you are.”

You started to pace, slow and sharp.

“You are soldiers. You are Mandalorian-trained. You are disciplined. And above all — you are loyal.”

A pause.

“Not to me. To each other.”

They watched you like they were trying to breathe your words in.

“This?” You pointed at the dried blood on Wolffe’s lip. “This jealousy? This division? It’s not strength. It’s weakness. And weakness gets you killed.”

You stopped walking, facing them head-on.

“I don’t care who went off-world. I don’t care who hasn’t earned a name yet. You are brothers. And from today on, the training gets harder. The drills get longer. The expectations rise.”

A long, steady beat.

“Earn your place. Earn your name. Earn each other.”

No one moved.

No one dared.

You dropped your voice just enough.

“This is your warning. Tomorrow — the real training begins.”

You turned on your heel and walked out.

Behind you, they stood taller.

Silent.

Together.

————

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

We interrupt your regularly scheduled political tragedy to bring you SPACE PIGEONS.

Hey! I’m from Australia(Melbourne) too!! I had a request for a Wollfe X Fem!Reader where he has to rescue her but it’s like disneys Hercules where Meg says “I’m a damsel and I’m in distress, I can handle this” and it’s a bunch of cute banter and flirting and maybe some spice thrown in? Love your work! Xx

Hey lovely! Thank you for your request, I hope the below is somewhat what you were hoping for!

“Tactical Complications”

Commander Wolffe x Reader

Blaster bolts screamed overhead, debris rained from the shattered rooftop, and your heels—gorgeous, custom, Senate-issue—were now coated in soot.

Typical.

You were pinned behind the shattered remains of what used to be a speeder—now a flaming, sparking coffin. Your blaster was out of charge, your dress had a tear the size of a hyperspace route down the side, and your thigh throbbed from where shrapnel had bit deep.

So no, this wasn’t ideal.

But it wasn’t your first disaster either.

“You’re going to regret this,” you muttered to the squad of droids advancing with heavy steps. “Because I’m very well-connected, and also—” you raised the empty blaster like it was worth something, “—kind of terrifying when cornered.”

The droids didn’t seem impressed.

And then—

Blasterfire. Sharp, clean, precise.

Heads popped. Limbs flew. The last droid barely had time to turn before its chest caved inward from a single, well-placed bolt.

Smoke curled in the air as silence fell.

You didn’t look surprised when he stepped into view—tall, armored, and absolutely furious.

Commander Wolffe.

“You took your time,” you called, voice dry. “I was two seconds from charming them into an alliance.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you—soot-smudged, limping, bleeding—like you were a glitch in his mission log he couldn’t delete.

“You’re injured.”

“You’re observant.”

He stormed toward you, ignoring your sass, and crouched beside your leg. “Hold still.”

“Careful,” you breathed, as his fingers brushed your bare thigh to check the wound. “You keep touching me like that, people might talk.”

“You’re bleeding through your sarcasm,” he said coolly. “Try being quiet for five seconds.”

You leaned closer, voice low. “That sounded suspiciously like a request.”

He looked up at you then, helmet off, one brow twitching with something like restraint. His hands were steady. His jaw—tight.

“You disobeyed direct evacuation orders,” he muttered, wrapping a field bandage tight. “And you think I’m the one being reckless.”

“I had intel,” you shot back. “I stayed to gather it. The mission mattered.”

“You nearly got vaped.”

“Please. I’ve had worse nights in the Senate.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Just for a second. A crack in the façade.

“I should drag you out of here by your pretty little neck,” he muttered.

“Pretty?” you echoed, pretending to swoon. “Wolffe, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

He lifted you with ease, one arm under your knees, the other around your back. You hissed through your teeth at the movement, clutching his pauldron.

“You don’t have to carry me.”

“I’m not arguing with a senator who thinks she’s immortal.”

You stared up at him as the evac ship loomed in view. “You’re angry.”

“I’m furious.”

You smirked. “And yet, you still came for me.”

His grip tightened.

“I always come for what’s mine.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t look at you again, didn’t say another word. But you felt it—that heat simmering under all his armor, all his rules.

And you knew next time… he wouldn’t be so professional.

Hiya! Since you do song fic requests I was wondering if you could do a Rex X reader with the song Smile by Uncle Kracker? Hope this is ok! You’re the best! Xx -🤍

“Smile”

Captain Rex x Reader

The battle was over, the stars above silent witnesses to the quiet aftermath. The field lights flickered, the hum of med droids and murmurs of relief blending into a lullaby of war’s end — at least for tonight.

You found him alone near the gunship, helmet off, back turned, shoulders tight with exhaustion. Captain Rex. Leader. Brother. Soldier. And lately… something more.

“Hey,” you said softly, brushing your hand along his arm as you stepped beside him.

He turned, and despite the dirt smudged across his face, the faint blood along his jaw, and the deep shadows beneath his eyes — he smiled.

A slow, crooked thing. Honest. Rare.

“Didn’t think you’d still be up,” he said.

“I could say the same for you.”

You watched each other in silence for a breath, the night pressing close around you both. You’d seen that look before — not pain, not exactly. More like weariness that went bone-deep. The kind that made you want to reach in and hold someone’s soul together.

“You’re always around when I need it most,” Rex said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I’ve told you how much that means.”

You smiled, heart tugging.

“You don’t have to,” you replied. “I know.”

He took a half-step closer, eyes searching yours like he was afraid the war would take you too if he blinked. But you weren’t going anywhere. Not tonight.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Someone who makes me forget… even if just for a moment.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently, thumb brushing the edge of the scar near his eye.

“You don’t have to forget,” you said. “Just… let me be the good part.”

Rex leaned into your touch. For once, he let go of the weight, let you be the anchor.

“You make me smile,” he murmured, voice cracking like it surprised even him. “Without even trying.”

Your heart ached and lifted at once. That song you’d played for him once — just once — on a shared night off at 79’s, came back to you. He hadn’t said a word when it played. But you’d seen it: the way his fingers stilled around his drink, the flicker in his eyes. He’d been listening.

And now he remembered.

“I’m not going to promise I’ll always be okay,” Rex said, brow furrowing slightly. “But I want to try. With you.”

You leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

“We’ll be okay together,” you said.

And there, under the stars and the dust of a hundred wars, Rex smiled again.

Just for you.

⸻

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“The Worst Luck”

ARC Trooper Fives x Sith Assassin!Reader

⸻

Hidden in the caverns of a storm-ridden world, the Separatist outpost buzzed with dark energy. Most didn’t know this base existed—most weren’t meant to.

You patrolled its halls like a shadow: cloaked in darkness, lightsaber at your hip, Count Dooku’s orders in your comm. You weren’t just his assassin. You were his favorite one—fast, brilliant, and loyal. Or so he thought.

The GAR must’ve caught wind of this place, because they’d sent two of their finest headaches in armor: ARC Troopers Echo and Fives.

One was bleeding. The other was missing. And your patience?

Wearing very thin.

⸻

You pressed Echo against the cold metal of a cell wall, your red blade crackling inches from his cheek.

His expression was equal parts pain and smugness. “You sure this isn’t personal?”

“Would it make a difference if it was?”

“Not really. I just like to know how far up the creep scale we’re going.”

You leaned in, amused. “Where is your partner?”

Echo raised a brow. “Fives? Trust me, he won’t let you take him alive.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Is he really that dangerous?”

Echo actually snorted. “No. He just has the worst luck I’ve ever seen. I once watched him fall down a set of stairs and somehow set off every detonator in the room. We weren’t even carrying that many.”

You blinked.

Echo nodded sagely. “The man’s a one-man catastrophe. If he’s still loose in here, odds are he’s somehow about to crash a starfighter into the medbay by accident.”

You smiled—despite yourself. “I’ll be sure to leave a fire extinguisher out for him.”

⸻

Fives was, predictably, not following the plan.

He was crawling through a duct that was way too small for his armor, holding a deactivated blaster, and whispering threats to Echo’s comm signal.

“Echo, if you’re not dead, I’m gonna kick your osik for getting caught,” he muttered. “Also, I may or may not have just dropped a thermal detonator in the hangar bay. Might wanna move.”

No response.

He sighed. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself.”

A cold voice echoed from below: “You’re not very stealthy.”

His eyes widened. “Oh—nope—”

You launched your saber.

Fives dropped like a sack of bricks through the grate, rolling with a very undignified grunt onto the hallway floor, armor scuffed, ego intact.

He grinned up at you from his heap. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You stalked forward, eyes narrowed, saber blazing. “You broke into a classified base.”

“Well technically, Echo broke in. I just… fell in.”

He scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt off his pauldron. “Look, do we have to fight? Because I’d rather just stare at you for a bit. You’ve got the whole angry-warlord look down, and I gotta say—it’s doing things for me.”

You blinked.

“…Did you just flirt with me mid-arrest?”

“Oh sweetheart, that wasn’t even my best line.”

You attacked.

The duel was fast and reckless.

You moved like smoke—twisting, striking, your saber slicing through the air with lethal precision. Fives fought dirty—improvised, unpredictable, ducking under your blade and throwing whatever he could find your way: a tray, a datapad, a coffee mug.

“Seriously?” you growled, batting it aside.

He grinned. “Didn’t hit you, did it?”

You kicked him hard in the chest. He flew back, slammed into a crate, and groaned. “Okay, that one’s fair.”

You advanced, steps slow and measured.

Fives coughed, wiped blood from his lip, and looked up at you with defiant heat in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he rasped. “Kill me. Bet I’ll still look better dead than half the seppies in this base.”

You stopped.

Laughed.

Actually laughed.

He blinked. “…Was that a smile?”

“No.”

“It was. You smiled.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re insane.”

Fives pushed to his feet, panting. “Takes one to fight one.”

You circled each other, breathing hard.

“Why didn’t you run?” you asked.

Fives tilted his head. “Maybe I wanted to see what a Sith assassin looked like up close.”

“Disappointed?”

He smiled. “No. You’re terrifyingly hot. It’s messing with my aim.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose. This idiot. This attractive, sharp-tongued, insufferable idiot.

You deactivated your saber. “You’re lucky I find your stupidity charming.”

“You’re lucky I can’t feel my ribs.”

“…You didn’t break anything.”

“I break everything. It’s kind of my thing.”

You studied him for a long moment, head tilted.

Then you spoke, soft and curious: “Why does he call you Fives?”

Fives gave a crooked grin. “Because my number is CT-5555. Or maybe because I only ever have five brain cells working at any given moment.”

“…That tracks.”

⸻

You shoved Fives into the room beside Echo, who was now sitting up and mildly annoyed.

Echo blinked. “Oh kriff. You’re still alive.”

Fives grinned. “She likes me.”

Echo stared at you, then him. “You’re unbelievable.”

You smirked and crossed your arms. “He tried to fight me with a mop.”

“It was tactical,” Fives shot back.

“You fell over your own foot.”

“It was a strategic stumble!”

Echo groaned. “I’m surrounded by morons.”

You leaned against the door, eyes flicking between them. “Tell me, ARC Trooper—how long before the Republic sends a team for you?”

Fives shrugged. “Long enough for you to fall in love with me.”

You narrowed your eyes.

He winked.

And Maker help you—you didn’t immediately stab him.

⸻

The cell was dim and humming with tension. Echo paced like a caged animal, checking the cuffs on his wrists every few minutes. Fives leaned against the wall like he was on leave at 79’s, smirking every time you looked at him.

And you?

You’d made the mistake of hesitating. The mistake of not killing them when you had the chance.

Something about that idiotic grin. Something about the way Fives joked with death like they were old friends.

It irritated you.

It fascinated you.

You turned your back on them and checked the comm unit outside the cell. The transmission coming through wasn’t Separatist.

“—this is General Skywalker, approaching target coordinates. Standby for breach.”

Your blood ran cold.

No. Not now.

You tapped the panel. “What kind of breach? How far out?”

The droid on the other end fizzled. “Jedi cruiser approaching from the lower stratosphere. Their forces have jammed exterior defenses. Two gunships inbound.”

You spun around. Fives was watching you carefully now.

“You’re nervous,” he said softly.

You ignored him. “You said the Republic wouldn’t come.”

“I said long enough for you to fall for me,” he said, grinning. “Apparently they’re faster than I thought.”

You pulled open the cell and grabbed his collar.

“Whoa—”

You shoved him into the wall, pinning him with your arm against his chest.

“You know what’s about to happen, don’t you?”

Fives didn’t flinch. “Looks like the cavalry’s here.”

“Your Jedi are going to tear this place apart.”

“Yeah. And if I were you, I’d get real comfortable with the idea of changing sides.”

You glared. “I don’t have a side.”

Fives smirked. “No, you have a job. You follow orders. You’re good at it. But I’ve seen that look before. You’re not sold on this war anymore.”

You hesitated.

He tilted his head. “Come with us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“I’m serious. You’re strong, terrifying, weirdly hot—Echo agrees with me.”

Echo shouted from the cell, “I do not!”

“You’re not like the others,” Fives continued. “You hesitated. You didn’t kill us. And I don’t think that’s just curiosity.”

You looked at him—really looked.

And he wasn’t wrong.

But before you could speak, the walls shook. A violent tremor rattled the floor. Sirens flared.

They were here.

“Get down!” you shouted, instinct pulling you faster than thought.

The ceiling cracked open above, and the cell block exploded into fire and debris.

Gunfire.

Smoke.

Blue and white armor filled the halls.

You pulled your saber and moved, deflecting blaster bolts while droids scrambled to regroup.

Fives grabbed Echo, ripping the restraints off his wrists.

Echo stared. “You sure about this?”

Fives looked at you, still holding your saber like it wouldn’t touch him.

“Pretty sure.”

You blocked a bolt that would’ve taken off his head and glared. “You’re going to owe me for this.”

“Oh, trust me,” he grinned, “I’m already planning the thank-you speech.”

You turned your back on the fight—on everything—and ran beside them through the collapsing base.

⸻

Outside the base.

The fight was chaos. The 501st swarmed the compound like a storm. AT-RTs thundered through mud and smoke, and blasterfire lit up the sky like fireworks.

You ducked behind a transport with Fives and Echo, heart hammering.

“You’ve got to be joking,” you muttered.

Marching toward the base was Skywalker himself, saber drawn, flanked by Ahsoka Tano and Captain Rex.

You exhaled slowly. “I just betrayed the Separatists for that guy?”

Fives beamed. “Jealous?”

You shoved his helmet back on. “Shut up and run.”

⸻

Later. On the Venator.

You sat alone in the medbay, cloak scorched, hands trembling.

You hadn’t spoken since you boarded the ship.

Echo had gone to debrief. Fives… had stayed.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer.

He stepped closer. “You saved us.”

You laughed bitterly. “I doomed myself.”

“You did the right thing.”

“I don’t even know what the right thing is anymore.”

He knelt in front of you. “You didn’t hesitate back there. You chose.”

You looked down. “I’m not like you.”

Fives gently reached for your hand. “No. You’re not. You’re smarter.”

You blinked at him.

“I mean that,” he said, eyes warm now. “You’re terrifying. And brave. And brilliant. And also—can I kiss you now or do I need to duel you again first?”

You actually laughed—a real laugh.

Fives leaned in. “Is that a yes?”

“…Just shut up and kiss me.”

Hello! I had an idea for a Kix x Fem!Reader where she transfers into his medbay but she stands out because she remembers every clones name. Regardless if she hasn’t even met them she has read all the files and committed them to memory and he’s like astonished but also touched. Maybe his brothers are like “if you don’t make a move I will” Hope this is good! Have a good weekend! ♥️

“First‑Name Basis”

Kix x Reader

Hyperspace thrummed beyond the transparisteel ports while Kix tried to tame the Resolute’s perpetually crowded med‑bay. Bacta monitors chimed, troopers squabbled over whose scar looked “coolest,” and Kix’s gloves were still sticky with drying crimson when the hatch whispered open.

A quiet but confident voice announced, “New med‑tech reporting, sir—[Y/N].”

Kix flicked off his gloves, surprised. “You picked a kriffing busy shift to arrive—welcome.”

From the nearest cot, Hardcase crowed, “What d’you bet she faints when she sees my arm?”

You crossed to him without blinking. “CT‑0217 Hardcase—through‑and‑through blaster hit, distal humerus, yesterday. Dermabind’s due for a swap.”

Hardcase shut up so fast Fives snorted.

You pointed down the line:

“CT‑5597 Jesse—rib bruise, de‑pressurised plating on R‑3. Three‑hour ice intervals.

“CT‑5555 Fives—fragment nick, upper thigh; you’ll pretend it doesn’t hurt until it infects.”

“CT‑0000 Dogma—scalp laceration, eight stitches. Stop picking at them.”

Each trooper stared like you’d grown a second head.

Kix folded his arms. “You read our charts?”

“Memorised the battalion manifest on the shuttle. Names separate patients from barcodes.”

A low whistle: Jesse grinned around a pain‑killer stick. “Kix, vod—if you don’t lock that down, I’m escorting her to 79’s myself.”

Fives elbowed him. “Brother, that’s my line.”

Dogma muttered, “Show some discipline.”

“Show some charm,” Fives shot back.

Kix cleared his throat, ears reddening. “Settle, vod. Let the medic work—unless you want a protocol droid doing your stitches.”

⸻

Kix found you re‑stocking kolto packs. “Most rookies need a week to learn nicknames; you quoted service numbers.”

“You’re not rookies—you’re veterans. Acting like it matters.”

His voice softened. “We spend our lives as copies. Remembering us by name… that’s a rare kind of medicine.”

Across the bay, Hardcase bellowed, “Kix! She fixin’ your ego yet?”

Jesse added, “Timer’s ticking, sir!”

You hid a smile. “I still need orientation, Kix. Maybe… a tour of the ‘cultural hub’ I’ve heard about?”

Kix’s grin was pure relief—and a little wonder. “Med‑officer‑ordered R&R, 79’s cantina, 2000. Mandatory.”

Hardcase whooped. “Ha! Called it!”

⸻

Blue and gold holo‑lights flashed off clone armor stacked by the door. Fives tried teaching you a rigged sabacc hand; Jesse heckled from behind; Dogma nursed one drink like it was contraband; Hardcase danced on a tabletop until Rex appeared, helmet tucked under his arm.

Rex eyed the scene, then you. “Heard the new medic can ID every trooper in the Legion.”

“Only the ones who’ve been shot today, sir,” you said, straight‑faced.

Hardcase cheered. Jesse rapped knuckles on the table. Even Rex let a ghost of a smile slip before nodding to Kix: Good find.

Jesse leaned close while Kix ordered drinks. “Take care of him, cyar’ika. Our medic patches everyone but himself.”

You watched Kix laugh, shoulders finally loose for the first time all day. “Count on it,” you said, lifting a glass.

Across the cantina, Hardcase elbowed Fives. “Told you names matter.”

Fives clinked his mug to Jesse’s. “Here’s to finally being more than numbers.”

And—for a few riotous hours beneath 79’s flickering lights—every soldier of the 501st felt like the only trooper in the Grand Army, thanks to one medic who never forgot a name.

Hiya! I absolutely love your writing and always look forward to your posts

I saw that request about the commanders catching you with their helmets on and I was wondering if you could do that but with the bad batch?

Again, love your writing. I hope you have a great day/night!

Hey! Thank you so much—that means a lot to me! 💖

I actually was planning to include the Bad Batch too but wanted to start with just the commanders first.

⸻

HUNTER

You weren’t expecting to get caught.

You were standing in the cockpit, wearing Hunter’s helmet—not for mischief, really, but because you were genuinely curious how he functioned with his enhanced senses dulled. You wanted to know what it was like to see through his eyes. To feel what he felt.

The helmet was heavy. Too heavy.

He walked in mid-thought, and you froze.

Hunter didn’t speak. He just stood there, half in shadow, his brow furrowing slowly like he was processing an entirely new battlefield situation.

You didn’t say anything either. You just… stood there. Helmet on. Stiff-backed. Guilty.

Finally, he stepped forward.

“…That’s mine.”

You took it off and held it out sheepishly. “I wanted to see what you see. It’s filtered. Muffled. How do you live like this?”

Hunter took the helmet from your hands and gave you a long, unreadable look.

“I don’t. I adapt.”

Then he brushed past you—close, deliberate—and you swore his fingers grazed yours just a little longer than necessary.

⸻

WRECKER

“Whoa!”

You heard the booming voice before you could even turn.

You were in the loading bay, helmet pulled low over your face as you tried to figure out how the heck Wrecker even saw through it with one eye. It was like wearing a bucket with a tunnel vision problem.

He charged over with the biggest grin you’d ever seen.

“Look at you! You’re me!”

You pulled the helmet off, grinning. “I don’t know how you walk around with this thing. It’s like being inside a durasteel trash can.”

“I know, right? But it looks great on you!”

He took the helmet back, turning it in his hands, then gave you a wide-eyed look.

“You wanna try my pauldron next?! Or lift something heavy?!”

You laughed. “Maybe next time, big guy.”

Wrecker beamed. “You’re so getting the full Wrecker experience.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you were both strangely okay with it.

⸻

TECH

You had only meant to try it on for a second.

But you made the mistake of reading one of his datapads while wearing it. And once the internal HUD booted up? Well, curiosity took over.

Tech returned from the cockpit to find you hunched over in the corner, still wearing his helmet and scanning system diagnostics.

His voice was clipped. “You’re tampering with active interface systems.”

“I’m learning,” you shot back, not looking up.

He blinked, then stepped closer, fingers twitching in that nervous way he did when he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or horrified.

“You activated my visual overlay filters.”

“I figured out the encryption pattern.”

Now that caught his attention.

He slowly knelt beside you. “How long have you had it on?”

“…Twenty-three minutes?”

He swallowed. “And you’re not… disoriented?”

“Nope. Just slightly overstimulated.”

There was a pause.

Then, quietly: “You may keep it on. Temporarily.”

You turned. “You trust me with your helmet?”

He cleared his throat. “Don’t make it a habit.”

But he was already adjusting the fit at the sides of your head.

⸻

ECHO

Echo did not find it cute.

He found it concerning.

The helmet wasn’t just gear. It was part of his reconstructed identity—a thing he wore not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

So when he saw you on the edge of his bunk, wearing it—your legs swinging slightly, gaze distant—his chest tightened.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You looked up, startled. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I was just… wondering what it’s like. Living with this.”

He stepped forward slowly, kneeling to your eye level. “It’s not something I’d want you to understand.”

You pulled the helmet off, placed it in his hands. “I didn’t think about that.”

He let out a quiet breath, then shook his head. “No. You did. That’s why you’re here thinking about it.”

You gave a soft smile. “I wanted to know you better.”

He swallowed hard. “You already do.”

⸻

CROSSHAIR

You knew exactly what you were doing.

And that was the problem.

You sat in the sniper’s perch in the Marauder, elbow on one knee, head tilted just slightly as you stared down at the deck below—wearing his helmet.

You heard the footstep. The sigh.

“Really?” His voice was lazy, drawled out like he wasn’t fazed, but there was a subtle tension underneath.

You didn’t look at him. “I wanted to see what it was like. Looking down on the rest of the world.”

He chuckled once, dry and sharp. “And? Is it satisfying?”

“No. It’s lonely.”

Crosshair was quiet for a long moment. Then he climbed the ladder halfway, leaned against the edge of the platform.

“Don’t get comfortable in it.”

You turned your head, voice just a little softer. “Why not?”

“Because if you wear it any longer, I might start to like it.”

You handed it back.

But you were both thinking about that line for the rest of the day.