Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’re an idiot,” you said, rolling your eyes as you tossed the little ball back to Anakin.

“At least I know what I’m doing, Miss Veyra Taan!” he grinned, flinging it back with ease.

You and Anakin were in his quarters aboard the Resolute, decompressing after the latest mission. He had been one of your closest friends since you were both Padawans—you helped him with his studies; he helped you refine your lightsaber forms. You’d passed your trials around the same time, and the friendship had only deepened from there.

Then the war began.

You’d hoped to avoid it, at least in some way. How wrong you were. You were assigned to gather intelligence in the Outer Rim—your connection to the Force made you especially effective at subtle influence. Force suggestion came naturally to you—not only over the weak-minded but even over ordinary individuals. However, those with strong Force connections were much more difficult, if not impossible, to sway.

For nearly a year, you operated in the shadows, cultivating informants and sending critical intelligence to the Republic. It was lonely work—but necessary.

One day, your holocommunicator blinked to life with Anakin’s face. He wanted you to lead the 501st for a few rotations while he “took care of some necessary business.” Technically, your rank of general allowed it, but the idea of commanding an entire battalion was daunting. Anakin assured you that Captain Rex would guide you and that everything would go smoothly.

It did. The clones adapted quickly, and you found a rhythm with them. When Anakin returned, you felt a pang of disappointment—returning to your quiet, solitary post on the Outer Rim was never easy. But then Anakin pulled a few strings, and the Council granted you permanent quarters on the Resolute. Thrilled, you finally had a real home where you could spend time with friends.

Your work continued: meeting with informants, checking encrypted comm channels, and fighting alongside Anakin and Ashoka in countless battles. You led the 501st whenever Anakin had to leave, always aware that his absences were tied to Senator Amidala. Jedi weren’t supposed to form attachments—but Anakin was never one for following the rules. You decided not to press the issue.

“Any word from your informants lately?” Anakin asked.

“No. I might need to stop by and remind them what’s at stake,” you said, grinning. Your sources were criminals facing harsh prison sentences, and your intervention gave them a chance to stay out of jail—provided they kept feeding you valuable intel.

Anakin sighed. “I’m not sure when we’ll have time for that. It’s been battle after battle.”

A soft knock came at the door. You sensed Captain Rex nearby.

“Come in!” you called.

“Generals, the Jedi Council requests your presence,” Rex said flatly.

“Thank you, Rex,” Anakin said, helping you to your feet.

As you hurried down the corridor, you glanced at him. “Do you think it’s another mission?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, eyes forward.

When you arrived, you bowed to the Council.

“A new assignment we have for you, Veyra,” Master Yoda said, his gaze piercing.

“A new assignment?” you repeated.

Master Windu’s voice was firm. “An experimental clone unit has been extremely successful—with a perfect record. However, no Jedi General oversees them. We need you to lead this squad.”

Your stomach dropped. A perfect record? A whole squad under your command?

You glanced at Anakin, expecting him to argue—but he didn’t. This sounded more like a job for him, not you.

Yoda’s slight smile cut through your panic. “Different, they are. Like you, they are. Understand them, you will.”

“Yes, Masters,” you said, forcing calm into your voice. “What is this squad’s name, and when will I meet them?”

“Clone Force 99,” Master Kenobi replied. “They’ll be aboard the Resolute in one rotation. Enough time for you to study up on your new team.”

You fiddled with the end of your sleeve, lost in thought. Why couldn’t anything last forever? Why couldn’t you just be happy with your team now? Why were they moving you? And what did “different, like them” even mean?

“Vee!” Anakin’s voice cut through your thoughts, and his hand found yours.

“Am I not allowed to sit here and feel sorry for myself?” you snapped, pulling your hand back.

“No, you’re not. This is an amazing opportunity, Vee—a chance to make a name for yourself!” he said, his grin trying to lift your spirits.

A name for yourself? Why did that matter? You didn’t want attention like he did. You just wanted to survive this war.

Rex entered the conference room, holodiscs stacked in his arms.

“Well,” he said, setting them down, “Clone Force 99—also known as the Bad Batch—actually has a lot of footage from nearly every mission they’ve been on.”

He inserted a disc, and the holo flickered to life. A clone in black-and-red armor danced across the screen, taking down droids with a vibroknife in fluid, almost artistic motion.

“This is Sergeant Hunter,” Rex explained. “Your go-to and second-in-command. He has enhanced senses—excellent tracking abilities, and he can feel vibrations and electric currents on any planet. Skilled in hand-to-hand combat, as you can see.”

“Kriff, almost as good as me!” Anakin joked.

Your mouth went agape. Hunter was incredible. Hopefully, your skills wouldn’t disappoint him.

The next clone appeared on the screen, smaller, with antennas jutting from his gear, typing rapidly at a terminal. The footage shifted to him piloting their ship with flawless precision.

“This is Tech,” Rex continued. “One of the smartest beings in the galaxy. He knows everything about everything—and if he doesn’t, he learns fast. Also an exceptional pilot.”

“Once again, almost as good as me,” Anakin said, leaning back with a proud grin.

You began fiddling with your sleeve again. He too was incredible.

The screen switched to a massive clone tearing droids across the battlefield and—wait.

“Is he lifting a kriffing gunship?!” you exclaimed.

“Yes. This is Wrecker, demolition expert. Strong as he looks—and he’s got a fun personality,” Rex added with a small smile.

Before you could ask what he meant, a leaner clone appeared, sniper rifle in hand. He lined up shot after shot with unerring accuracy, even bouncing discs off walls to hit multiple targets at once.

“And finally, Crosshair. Sniper extraordinaire. Can hit any target from ten clicks away. He can be… difficult to work with,” Rex cautioned.

“Great,” you sighed, putting your head in your hands.

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to fit in with these guys. They’re all so skilled, and I’m… average. They’re not exactly stealthy—they like to fight. That’s not me. And how am I supposed to walk up to them and say, ‘Hi, I know you don’t know me, but I’m in charge now’? Yeah, that’ll go over well,” you muttered, shaking your leg nervously.

“Well, it worked with us,” Rex said, giving you a small, encouraging smile. “Just be yourself. It’s hard not to like you.”

“Rex is right,” Anakin added. “Give them a chance—and maybe you can learn a few things from them, just as they can from you.”

Your comm beeped, signaling the squad had arrived.

You swallowed hard.

Well… here goes nothing.

Chapter Text

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you walked toward the docking bay, Rex at your left and Anakin on your right. Anakin reached out, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“You’ve got this, Vee,” he whispered.

You gave him a small smile and glanced out at the hangar bay. A matte-black Omicron-class attack shuttle waited, its engines humming softly. The three of you approached, your boots echoing on the metallic floor.

The shuttle’s hatch slid open with a hiss, and the low hum of its engines faded to a soft purr. Your stomach tightened as the squad stepped out, one by one.

Hunter moved first, scanning the hangar with sharp, deliberate motions. He met your gaze briefly and gave a small, polite nod. Confident. Skilled. Dangerous. Your hand brushed against the hilt of your lightsaber on instinct.

Next came Tech, adjusting a console on his gear as he stepped down. His movements were precise—almost too precise—and he gave a tiny nod in your direction without even looking up. You could already tell he’d noticed every detail: of you, the shuttle, the hangar, and probably the galaxy at large.

Wrecker bounded out after them, nearly bouncing with energy.

“Heh! Finally! Hope you brought snacks,” he said with a wide grin.

His sheer size and enthusiasm made you blink. And that’s supposed to be under my command?

Crosshair followed silently, sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. His eyes swept over you—apprising, critical, unflinching. You forced yourself to meet his gaze.

Yeah… this is going to be interesting.

Hunter stepped forward.

“You must be General Veyra Taan,” he said evenly. “Captain Rex filled us in.”

“Yes, that’s me,” you said, keeping your voice steady even as your pulse spiked. “Welcome aboard the Resolute. I… look forward to working with all of you.”

“Well, you guys got lucky. Vee is one of the best,” Anakin added, placing a calming hand on your shoulder.

“So we have read,” Tech said, not looking up from his datapad.

Read? Of course they’d read about you, too. Hopefully it was all good things.

“Wrecker, take General Taan’s bags and show her to her new quarters,” Hunter ordered.

Wrecker snatched your bags from Rex’s arms with ease and gave you a cheerful nod.

“You know, you can just call me Veyra—or Vee. I’m not one for formalities,” you said, fiddling with your sleeve again as your stomach twisted into knots.

“Alright, Vee.” Hunter nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, join us. We have our next mission.”

He saluted Anakin and Rex before turning back toward the shuttle with the others in tow.

You turned to Anakin, palms sweaty, feeling like you might pass out.

“Hey. You’ve got this, Vee. You’re one of the strongest Jedi I know. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon—comm me,” he said, giving you a quick hug.

You hugged Rex next.

“Best of luck to you, General,” he said with a small smile.

Taking one final deep breath, you squared your shoulders and lifted your chin, letting the Force steady you.

Hunter waited at the shuttle stairs, offering a hand to help you up. You took it, letting him guide you aboard.

As the hatch closed behind you and the engines hummed to life, you felt the Force ripple faintly around the squad—strong, chaotic, but controlled. You could feel their skill, their unpredictability, and their loyalty to each other.

This is my team now.

I just hope I’m ready.

The cockpit of the shuttle was tight, built for four—exactly the number already seated inside. You stepped in awkwardly and stood off to the side, not quite sure where to go or what to say.

“So… I hear you guys are good,” you offered.

The words fell out before you could stop them, and you immediately cursed yourself.

Hunter chuckled softly. “Not too bad yourself, from what I hear.”

“Well… I’m not really a fighter. Not like you all. I specialize in intel.”

They glanced at you, a little more attentive now.

“I have a rare Force ability—mind suggestion. Stronger than average, but only on regular people. It doesn’t work on Jedi or Sith. Because of that, I usually work behind the scenes. Criminal informants, slicing into comms, analyzing enemy movements—that kind of thing.”

You paused, glancing between them, then rushed on.

“Anakin once asked me to help with the 501st, and I had no idea what I was doing. Rex saved me. I owe him everything. I’m more of the brains behind the scenes. So maybe… maybe Hunter should continue leading the squad. You know them best, and I could—”

You stopped yourself.

Four pairs of eyes stared at you—wide, confused, silent.

You had lost them.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?” Hunter said gently.

“Yeah… ummm.” You took a small step back. “I’ll excuse myself to my quarters.”

You quickly left the cockpit, practically sprinting down the corridor. As soon as the door shut behind you, you slid down the wall, face buried in your hands.

Vee, you are such an embarrassment.

You decided that now would be the best time to get some meditation in. After all, you were about to go on a mission and you felt anything but grounded at the moment.

You sat down cross legged on the floor, breathing in though your nose, out through your mouth. You felt the force surround you, as if it was wrapping you in a hug. Soon you felt as if you were no longer body, but just spirit, looking down at yourself, connecting with everything around you. 

You were like this for quite sometime until a loud banging startled you.

“Vee, your needed in the cockpit!”, what appeared to be Wrecker yelling at you. 

Well I guess you were done meditating. 

You made your way back to the cockpit and found the team circled around a holo of a person. 

“Ah, General, just in time. I was just about to brief everyone” Hunter said with a smile.

You gave him a slight smile back and leaned against the backside of Crosshairs chair.

“Alright, our primary objective is to capture Seran Dax. He is wanted by the Republic for stealing multiple records and handing them over to the separatists. We will infiltrate the cantina blocking off all exits and take him. Senate wants him alive so stun only. Tech, I want us to know where all possible entry and exit points are.” Hunter ordered.

“Yes sir” Tech said.

You thought a little bit. This seemed to be way more complicated than it needed to be. If your intel days have taught your anything, is that people will sit down and talk with a pretty girl like yourself. You decided to speak up.

“Sorry, just a suggestion. Why don’t we convince Seran to come out of the Cantina with us?” You questioned. 

“What do you mean?” Hunter asked.

“I’m just saying that it might be easier to draw him out of the Cantina with promises of drugs or sex. Then, we will be able to get him alone with less witnesses and less of a chance of a random civilian throwing us off” You had suggested.

Hunter sat and thought for a moment. “Okay, we will try it your way”

“Ugh” Crosshairs had rolled his eyes

“Aww man! I wanted to blow something up!” Wrecker complained. 

“Sorry big guy, I just think this mission might go better if it were stealthier.” You tried to comfort him.

The ship lurched coming out of hyperspace and to the planter of your first mission with your new squad. You tried to take a deep breath to calm your nerves. You could show them that stealth was just as good as force. 

Chapter Text

Tech had landed the ship on the outskirts of the town. He, Hunter, and you made your way to a building across from the cantina to scout it out. Tech tapped into his datapad, his eyes flicking across the screen.

“Well, good news,” he said. “There are only two exits: the main entry and a back door used mostly by employees. I’m picking up about thirty lifeforms inside. Shouldn’t be too hard to get Seran’s attention.”

Hunter peered over the edge of the building, eyes narrowed as he observed the cantina.

“Great,” he muttered. “Security’s almost nonexistent. With a little help from Vee, this shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“That won’t be a problem,” you replied calmly.

You reached out through the Force, searching for Seran’s presence. You found it quickly—dark, clouded, radiating greed and selfishness. It turned your stomach.

“Well, this looks like a fun party,” Crosshair drawled, suddenly appearing behind the three of you, his sniper rifle slung over one shoulder. “Mind moving? I’d like to set up.”

“Are you ready yet?” he added, already unpacking his kit.

“Almost,” you said. “I just need to change real quick.”

“You sure you want to go in there alone?” Hunter asked, turning to look at you. “Wouldn’t be too hard for one of us to blend in.”

You laughed.

“Thanks for the concern, but I’ve done this plenty of times. And no offense, but none of you really blend. Wrecker’s too big, Tech looks too… ‘Techy’ for this crowd, Crosshair scares people with his scowl, and you”—you gave Hunter a pointed look—“have a face tattoo.”

Hunter raised his eyebrows, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“If you want to join me next time,” you added playfully, “we’ll have a lot of work to do.”

He shook his head, amused but clearly conceding your point.

You slipped away to change into something more fitting for a spice dealer—flashy enough to draw interest, but not enough to raise suspicion. Your lightsaber and comm were well hidden. You took one last deep breath, centering yourself.

This is what I’m good at.

You clicked on your comm.

“Everyone in position?”

“Affirmative,” Crosshair said from his perch above.

“Affirmative,” Tech echoed from the ship.

“Affirmative,” Hunter added for himself and Wrecker, waiting in a nearby alley.

“All right. Let’s do this.”

You approached the cantina confidently. A large guard stood at the entrance, and as you neared, he straightened, shifting to block your way.

“Hey, big guy,” you said sweetly, letting the Force flow into your words. “Let me in.”

His eyes softened immediately.

“Of course, mama,” he said, stepping aside and opening the door for you.

You winked at him and walked inside.

The cantina was dim, hazy with smoke. Music pulsed low in the background. Dancers occupied corners, entertaining patrons too drunk or too bored to care about anything else. You scanned the room but didn’t see Seran. You guessed he’d be in one of the private back rooms.

You approached the bar and leaned in slightly.

“Any chance a girl like me could find Seran?” you asked, smiling flirtatiously, letting the Force nudge the bartender.

They tilted their head toward a curtained room at the back. You winked again and made your way over.

You paused outside, listening, then stretched your senses. Two people inside. The Force radiated lust from within.

Of course, you thought.

You stepped inside and were immediately met with the sight of Seran mid-act—pants down, a Twi’lek woman on her knees. Both looked shocked as you entered.

“Sorry to intrude,” you said coolly, focusing on the woman. “Why don’t you go to the refresher?”

You turned to Seran. “This conversation will be far more entertaining.”

The Twi’lek rose, wiped her mouth, and exited without a word.

Seran hastily adjusted his pants and flopped back onto the couch, eyeing you like a puzzle he wanted to solve. His gaze raked over your body.

“How can I help you?” he asked, voice slow and dripping with arrogance.

“I’m here to drop off that spice order you requested,” you said flatly. “It’s in the speeder just outside.”

He looked confused, brows furrowed—but you gave a subtle mental nudge, and he blinked, smiling.

“And what are you looking for in return?” he asked, leaning closer.

You smiled coldly.

“I’ll take the agreed-upon payment,” you said, not wanting to get caught up in the details. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

You stood, and Seran followed suit, stepping up behind you. He leaned in close, breath brushing your neck, body pressing slightly against yours.

“We could wait a moment,” he whispered. “I could show you a good time.”

You chuckled darkly.

“Maybe later.”

You turned and walked off, not giving him the chance to press further.

Outside, you led Seran to the predetermined location. You could sense Hunter and Wrecker nearby, hidden in the shadows. You turned to face Seran, scanning the alley to confirm no one had followed.

You gave a small nod.

Hunter stepped from the shadows and fired. The stun bolt hit Seran square in the chest. He collapsed, unconscious.

Wrecker caught him with one arm and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Great work, boys,” you said with a grin.

“That actually went smoother than I expected,” Hunter admitted.

“I still wish we’d blown something up,” Wrecker muttered.

“Maybe next time, big guy,” you said, patting his arm.

Back on the ship, Tech plotted a course to Coruscant while extracting data from Seran’s datapad. Wrecker was already raiding the snack stash and offered you something, which you politely declined. Crosshair sat in the corner, cleaning his sniper rifle. When you boarded, he gave you a subtle nod—a gesture that surprised you, considering how little he spoke.

Now you were in your quarters, decompressing. The mission had gone better than expected. No casualties. No messy fallout. And you’d proven yourself—at least a little—to your new team. You weren’t just a Jedi with a lightsaber. You were an asset.

There was a soft knock at your door.

You reached out.

Hunter.

“Come in,” you called.

The door slid open, and he leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

“That was impressive earlier,” he said with a small smile. “Stealth’s never really been our strong suit, but you executed it perfectly.”

“Thank you,” you said, returning the smile.

“I hope you don’t think every mission will go that smoothly,” he added with a chuckle. “We still like our fights.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” you replied. “But sometimes things can be handled differently.”

Hunter nodded. “Well, we’re happy to have you on the team, Veyra.”

He gave you one last smile, then turned to leave.

As the door slid closed behind him, you felt a flutter in your chest.

Woah, Vee. Calm down.

Since when do you get butterflies over clones?

You shook it off, chalking it up to post-mission adrenaline.

Still… you couldn’t help but hope the next mission went just as well.

Chapter Text

“Yes, Master. Thank you,” you say, turning off the comm. You’ve just received your next mission after dropping Seran off on Coruscant. 

You head up into the cockpit where the boys are lounging around. “We’ve got our next mission,” you announce with a grin. They sit up straighter, attention sharpening. “We’re headed to Raxus.” Your raised eyebrows emphasize the gravity.

“That’s a Separatist-controlled planet,” Tech notes with a frown. 

“Exactly. A Republic spy—Jaren Malik—was undercover there, and he’s just been caught. Our job is to get him out.”

Hunter leans forward, curious. “And how exactly are we doing that?”

“Remember when I said if you wanted to go undercover with me, you’d need to do some work? Well, the work starts now,” you say, smirking. “Here’s the plan…”

When you arrive on Raxus, you and Hunter move through the crowded streets dressed as mercenaries. Tech and Crosshair provide remote support while Wrecker waits in the ship, ready if things go sideways. Hunter stays close but not too close—his hand occasionally brushing the small of your back as you navigate the crowds. You try not to read too much into it. Maybe it’s just part of the act.

“So, we just talk to random people?” Hunter asks. 

You nod toward a tense man lurking in an alleyway, watching the crowd with sharp eyes. “Kind of,” you say. “My gift helps me get information easier. But I’m looking for someone who doesn’t want to be seen—like that guy.” 

You approach him with confidence, your Force senses picking up his nervousness. “Where is the Republic spy being held?” you ask, your voice low and direct.

The man replies in a trance-like tone, “He’s being held in the prison.”

Without another word, you turn and walk away. “Tech, where’s the prison? What am I looking at?” you ask through your comm.

Tech gets to work gathering the information as you form a plan to break into the prison.

The prison smells of rust, ozone, and something old—sour and metallic like dried blood baked into the walls. Walking beside Hunter on the grated floor, your boots make soft sounds. Your hand hovers near your belt, fingers brushing the hilt of your lightsaber. The Force coils in your gut, whispering warnings.

“Anything?” Hunter asks softly.

You reach out, stretching your senses. There’s a flicker—one lifeform, faint and fading, trapped behind thick durasteel. “Cell Block Nine,” you murmur. “But something’s wrong. It’s dim. I can’t feel him clearly.”

Hunter’s jaw tightens as you hurry to the cell. He taps in a code and the lock clicks open with a hiss. You step inside together—and freeze.

Slumped against the wall is a motionless, bloodied figure bound tight. His head tilts at an unnatural angle, mouth half-open like he died mid-sentence. Jaren Malik.

No pulse. The Force is silent. Too silent.

He’s dead.

You kneel, fingers brushing his chest, your heart sinking. This wasn’t a rescue—it was bait.

Suddenly, the lights go out.

A heartbeat of blackness.

Then the mechanical grind of blast doors slamming shut.

The ominous whir of droids activating fills the air.

Red emergency lights flicker on, casting harsh shadows. Hunter’s blaster is out in a flash. You ignite your lightsaber with a sharp hiss, bathing the room in emerald light.

“Crosshair, we’re compromised,” Hunter says urgently.

“No visual. The whole wing just went dark,” comes the reply.

You don’t wait. You move fast, deadly—blade flashing. You slice off the first B2 droid’s arm before it can fire. Another droid aims at Hunter; you deflect the blaster bolt into the wall. Hunter takes down two droids with precise shots. More swarm in.

“Tech! Alternate exit!” Hunter barks.

“Maintenance tunnel, sublevel three. Hurry!”

You fight your way toward the exit. A bolt grazes your thigh; you grunt but keep moving. Hunter steadies you. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you say, pushing through.

He doesn’t argue, just covers your flank. You reach the stairwell, leaping down steps despite the pain. Blaster fire echoes behind you. At the tunnel entrance, Wrecker is already laying down cover fire.

“Took you long enough!” he shouts, blasting two droids.

“Less talking, more running!” you yell, diving into the tunnel.

Crosshair is waiting on the ramp as you reach the ship. Hunter smacks the control panel, raising the ramp just as the Marauder lifts off.

You made it.

But it doesn’t feel like a victory.

You sit on your cot, tending to your wound. You can’t shake the weight of the failed rescue. How did you miss that he was already dead? Frustration and guilt twist inside you.

“Hey,” Hunter says softly, leaning on the doorframe.

“Hey,” you reply quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

He chuckles and steps inside, sitting beside you. “You know I can tell when someone’s lying, right?”

You laugh softly. “Yeah. I forgot.”

“I’m mad at myself,” you admit. “He was dead. I should’ve sensed it. We could’ve all died because of my mistake.”

Hunter rubs your back gently. “Hey, I should’ve sensed it too. We all make mistakes. What matters is that we made it out untouched. Well, all of us except you,” he teases, nodding toward your thigh.

You smile. “I’m supposed to keep this team alive. I can’t afford mistakes like that.”

“Vee, stop being so hard on yourself. I have to keep this team alive too. You’re doing great. Not every mission will go smoothly, and that’s okay.”

He looks down at your leg, his hand moving from your back to your thigh. “You gonna be okay? Or do we have to cut it off?”

“Unfortunately, I’ll live,” you smile.

His hand lingers a moment longer before slowly sliding upward. Your breath catches. Hunter instantly pulls back. “Erm… sorry,” he mutters and quickly leaves, closing the door behind him.

You stare at the door for a long moment, the butterflies fluttering back. But now there’s a deeper heat curling inside you.

Oh no.

You cannot fall for anyone on this team.

Chapter Text

The Marauder docked on the planet Cerea.

Commander Cody had commed you earlier with orders from command: after your last mission failure, your squad was being granted shore leave. The Batch had originally wanted to return to Kamino, but that wasn’t an option—not if you wanted to stay together. You chose Cerea instead. Its peaceful landscapes were a stark contrast to the ruins of war. You were hoping to use this time, and the serenity, to meditate and reconnect with the Force.

Once the Marauder touched down, the squad dispersed quickly.

Wrecker went looking for food. Tech wandered off toward a local data archive. Crosshair disappeared—you weren’t exactly sure where. That left you and Hunter alone on the ship. And as much as you liked the Marauder, you didn’t want to spend shore leave inside it.

“Did you have any plans?” you asked, approaching Hunter.

“Mm, no. Did you?” he replied with a small smile.

“There’s a little market nearby I wanted to walk through,” you said, eyes flicking away as you fiddled with your sleeve. “If you’d like to come.”

“I’d really like that, Veyra,” he answered, his smile widening.

The two of you changed into civvies and left the ship.

The market was charming—cobblestone streets lined with colorful stalls and old stone buildings. The air was clean, crisp, with a soft breeze. Not too hot. Not too cold. You took in a slow breath, closing your eyes briefly to feel the Force flowing gently through everything.

“This is nice,” Hunter said beside you.

“Yes,” you agreed softly. “It really is.”

You wandered the market leisurely, no rush, just walking and talking. It felt… easy.

“You know,” Hunter said after a quiet moment, “for what it’s worth, I think you’re a natural-born leader.”

You gave a small laugh, eyes dropping to the road. “I don’t know about that. I think my training made me that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a normal upbringing. I was trained from a very young age to be independent. To rely on the Force. To help and guide others. I was practically designed to lead.”

Hunter chuckled. “Yeah. I can relate to that.”

You smiled. Of course he could. He literally was designed to be the leader of the Batch.

“It’s not easy, though,” he added, his voice dropping a little. “Most people don’t get it. The burden of leadership. Every decision you make affects your team. And if one of those decisions gets someone killed…” He trailed off. “It eats at you. Haunts you.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “The Council never really understood that either. They say we’re not supposed to form attachments, but how can I not be attached to those I’m supposed to protect? Even with the 501st—I felt attached. To Anakin. Ahsoka. Even Captain Rex.”

“So what you’re saying is…” Hunter gave you a teasing grin. “You’re attached to us, too?”

You turned toward him with a smirk. “Don’t get any ideas, Sergeant.”

He grinned back. “All I’m saying is—I wouldn’t be opposed.”

He leaned in, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, warm against your skin. His eyes met yours. He began to lean closer—

“I, um—what’s the plan for dinner tonight?” you asked suddenly, stepping away.

Smooth, Vee.

You couldn’t do this. Not with him. It was unprofessional, and worse—it could hurt you. Would hurt you.

You walked off briskly, leaving Hunter behind.

Dinner was quiet. Decent. The squad was exhausted and turned in early.

You lay in bed, physically drained but mentally spinning. You couldn’t stop thinking about Hunter—his touch on your thigh, his hand against your face. The heat he stirred in you was undeniable.

It wasn’t like you were a virgin—Jedi weren’t forbidden from sex. You had needs, and you’d fulfilled them. Sometimes with fellow Jedi, sometimes with strangers on distant worlds. But this… this was different.

You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for Hunter, or anyone in the squad. You were their superior. It could ruin the dynamic. Risk the mission. Risk everything.

You needed air.

You stepped outside and climbed onto the ship’s hull, lying back to look at the stars. It was quiet. Peaceful. That same gentle breeze blew across your skin.

And then you smelled it—faint, unmistakable. Weed.

You sat up slightly, sniffing the air.

Toward the tail end of the ship, you spotted Crosshair sitting alone, a lit joint between his fingers.

He looked over lazily. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be weird about this.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Want a hit?”

You shook your head. “No, thank you.”

There was a pause. Then, with that familiar bite in his tone, he asked, “So. Did you have ‘fuck-me’ eyes for Captain Rex too, or…?”

You turned sharply, eyes narrowing. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m just wondering if you’ve got a thing for your second-in-commands,” he said, inhaling deeply.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t need enhanced vision like mine to see it,” he muttered. “You and Hunter have been eye-banging each other since we met.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Fine.” He exhaled, the smoke curling upward. “I’ll just keep watching the pathetic little show you two put on.”

“You’re just jealous it’s not you,” you snapped without thinking.

Crosshair tilted his head and stood up.

“If it were me,” he said quietly, stepping close, “I’d do something about it.”

Your breath hitched. Goosebumps ran down your arms. That same fire Hunter had ignited was flaring again—only now, it felt more dangerous. More primal.

Crosshair smirked, clearly noticing.

He leaned in, voice low against your ear. “I’m a little more… dominant… than my brother. I take what I want.”

And then he walked away.

You sat there, stunned. Knees weak. Pulse racing.

What is wrong with me?

You dropped into a seated position, cross-legged, trying to steady yourself. Control your breathing. In… and out. Inhale. Exhale. You visualized the Force circling around you.

But something felt off. The energy wasn’t calm—it was murky. Tainted. The vision shifted.

You saw Hunter—warm, steady. The kind of affection he gave you.

You saw Crosshair—his sharp gaze, the smirk that lingered like a burn.

You snapped your eyes open.

You were supposed to be in control. Balanced. Composed.

So why did it feel like you were unraveling?

Chapter Text

You had been trying to sleep all night. You’d drift off for a few minutes, then jolt awake. Tossing and turning, over and over again. Finally, you managed to fall asleep—but it wasn’t restful.

Your eyes twitched beneath closed lids. Your breathing turned erratic.

You weren’t just dreaming.

You were slipping into a Force vision.

Everything around you was dark. But there—someone reached out, hand extended. You could tell it was Hunter, but his face was shadowed, unreadable.

To your left stood Crosshair. Shirtless. Smirking. He whispered things you couldn’t quite hear, smoke curling lazily from his mouth.

The darkness shifted.

Suddenly, you were inside a crumbling brick building. Cracks shot up from the floor. The walls buckled. The structure began to collapse around you.

“Veyra?” a small voice called behind you.

You turned.

It was a child—you—younger, smaller, alone. Afraid.

Behind her, a dark shape began to form. Humanoid. Hulking. But unrecognizable.

You gasped awake.

Sweat clung to your skin. Your heart raced. You buried your face in your hands, trying to steady your breath.

What the hell was happening to you?

You walked into the main area of the Marauder where the rest of the Batch had gathered. Your body was stiff. Your mind, exhausted. But you wore a calm face, masking the storm underneath.

The squad appeared normal enough. Tech and Wrecker were discussing a food stall they’d found in town. Crosshair stood silently at the caf machine, pouring himself a cup.

He glanced at you—just briefly—but his eyes said everything.

Hunter stood off to the side, quiet. Distant.

Tech eyed you carefully. “You’re operating at sub-optimal efficiency. Trouble sleeping?”

Wrecker glanced between you and Hunter. “What, did you two get in a fight or something?”

“No, of course not, big guy,” you said, smiling faintly as you patted his shoulder. You moved to the caf machine, pouring yourself a cup.

Then the holo-comm began to ping.

Cody appeared, flickering in blue.

“Hey fellas. Sorry to interrupt your leave, but we’ve got a civilian transport requesting escort. Should be simple—just make sure the refugees get off-world safely. They’re Outer Rim evacuees heading to a Republic-friendly system.”

Hunter looked to you. You hesitated for just a second. This was supposed to be your downtime—but the mission sounded simple enough. And it would get you out of more awkward questions about you and Hunter… for now.

You gave him a small nod.

“At your service, Commander,” Hunter replied.

“Perfect. I’m transmitting the coordinates now.” Cody’s holo flickered out.

You and the squad made your way to a forested valley near the same village you’d visited the day before. A small group of refugees huddled together near an old transport.

You scanned the crowd.

One child stood out immediately. A young girl, no older than six. A woman—her mother, likely—kept both hands on the girl’s shoulders and quickly moved her behind her body, protective and defiant.

The woman stared at you like she knew something. Like she recognized you.

You stared back, confused.

“I don’t like this,” Crosshair muttered beside you. “They’re hiding something.”

Your gaze returned to the girl.

The Force buzzed around her.

She was Force-sensitive. Scared. Vulnerable. And in that moment, she reminded you of yourself.

“Is there a problem?” the woman snapped.

You shook your head slightly. “No.”

Then, through the Force—you felt it.

Incoming.

You ducked instinctively and ignited your saber as an arrow flew past your head.

A group of mercenaries, nearly twenty strong, came charging down the hill.

“Where the hell did they come from?” Wrecker shouted.

“No clue,” you replied, stepping forward. “Protect the villagers!”

Wrecker and Tech scrambled to guide the refugees aboard the shuttle. You, Hunter, and Crosshair moved to intercept.

The three of you fought in perfect sync. Hunter’s vibroblade danced through the enemy lines. Crosshair picked off targets from a distance with deadly precision. You defended them both, saber flashing, Force guiding your every step.

But you were distracted.

Your mind kept flashing back to the little girl.

They wanted her.

They were probably going to sell her. Use her. A Force-sensitive slave? That’s a high-value prize.

She didn’t have a choice.

You didn’t have a choice.

Your team didn’t have a choice.

No one had a choice in this damn war.

The anger rose in you—hot, sharp, furious.

The Force pulsed.

A violent red aura crackled around you as your emotions surged. Suddenly, every mercenary still standing was lifted off the ground—then shredded midair in a storm of invisible blades.

When it was over, their broken bodies dropped to the dirt.

Silence.

You stood in the center, chest heaving. Slowly, you turned around.

The others were staring at you—eyes wide. Like you’d grown another head.

You shook it off.

“Taken care of,” you muttered, clipping your saber back to your belt. “Let’s get them loaded up.”

You walked toward the woman and her daughter. The same woman who’d glared at you earlier.

“Don’t worry,” you said quietly. “I won’t tell the Council.”

She stared at you for a beat, then nodded. “Thank you.”

You returned straight to your quarters after the mission and collapsed onto your bed.

Something inside you was… wrong.

And you didn’t know how to fix it.

There was a knock on your door.

You used the Force to open it.

Hunter stepped inside but remained standing. You stayed lying down, eyes closed.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked, voice calm but firm. “You’re not yourself, Veyra. That wasn’t just anger out there. That was… something else.”

“What are you talking about?” you started, but he cut you off.

“Is it about me? About Crosshair? What is it?”

You sat up, snapping. “It’s about everything. The war. The Force. The rules I was raised to follow—rules I break every day just to survive!”

He said nothing. Just looked at you with soft, unreadable eyes.

Then he knelt beside your bed and reached for your hand, which lay still across your stomach.

You didn’t pull away.

A single tear slid down your cheek.

He brushed it away with his thumb, then slowly leaned in—hesitating at the last second.

But you turned your head.

“I can’t let this happen,” you whispered. “Not with you. Not with anyone.”

Later that night, you sat on the hull of the Marauder again, looking out at the stars.

You felt his presence before he spoke.

“Rough day, General?”

You groaned internally. Crosshair.

“Yeah,” you said. “It fucking sucked.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, voice low.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you muttered. “All I know is I need to regain what I once had.”

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate.

“You can pretend you’ve got control,” he said. “But you and I both know that’s a lie.”

You turned to him, confused. Angry. Defensive.

But he reached for you—grabbing your waist, pulling you in close.

His eyes locked on yours.

You were caught in them. Trapped. Transfixed.

He leaned in.

And you pulled away.

“No,” you said.

You stood and walked off, leaving him alone on the hull.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, deep in meditation.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Trying again. Trying to find the calm.

Trying to feel the Force, steady and quiet like it used to be.

But it was still murky. Still wrong.

Then—softly—a voice whispered:

“You’re unraveling.”

A child’s voice.

Your eyes snapped open.

Your heart thundered in your chest.

You weren’t just afraid of the outside world anymore.

You were afraid of yourself.

Chapter Text

You woke groggy again. Another night of restless sleep. Your head pounded, and your eyes burned. The Force still pulsed around you like static — chaotic, distorted, wrong.

Would it ever feel normal again?

You forced yourself out of bed, threw on your robe, and pulled the hood over your head. The quiet hum of the Marauder’s engines vibrated through the floor as you made your way to the commons.

“Good morning, General!” Wrecker said cheerfully, eyes bright.

“Morning,” you grumbled, pouring yourself a cup of caf. You didn’t even need to look to feel his eyes on you.

Hunter was watching from across the room — silent, unreadable.

You ignored him. You’d already decided: today, you were avoiding him.

Tech entered, datapad in hand. “Ah, General. You’re awake. You received an encrypted transmission from one of your informants.”

You straightened immediately, the fog lifting from your mind. You snatched the pad from his hand and scanned the message.

Rykk Tasso. Ord Mantell.

He claimed to have intel on a new Separatist prototype he’d been paid to smuggle.

Your stomach twisted. This could be serious.

“Tech, set a course for Ord Mantell,” you ordered. “I’ll handle this one alone. You boys stay on the ship.”

“No.” Hunter’s voice was low but firm. “Ord Mantell’s not safe. I’m going with you.”

You turned sharply. “I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, Sergeant.”

“I don’t doubt that. But we’re a team now. You need to accept help. Especially after… last mission’s outburst.”

His tone was calm, but you caught the edge underneath.

You hesitated.

He was right.

“Fine,” you said quietly.

The Marauder dropped out of hyperspace above Ord Mantell.

You wore civilian clothes, your hood drawn low. Your lightsaber was hidden but within reach. Hunter matched you in tone — plain clothes, concealed blaster.

The two of you moved through the streets — thick with grime, neon lights, and desperation. The city buzzed with tension, like something beneath the surface was always about to snap.

“This place reminds me of Coruscant’s lower levels,” Hunter muttered.

You didn’t look at him. “Because here, the lies are honest.”

He glanced at you. “Why does this guy owe you, anyway?”

“Caught him smuggling a freighter full of spice out of the Outer Rim,” you said flatly. “He was looking at life behind bars. I offered him a deal.”

Hunter didn’t reply.

You reached The Core Splitter, the seediest bar this side of the Mid Rim.

Inside, the air reeked of stale smoke and spice. Dancers swayed under flickering lights. Eyes followed you as you moved through the room.

You spotted Rykk in the corner — hunched, twitchy, nervous.

You approached his booth, sidestepping a dancer who brushed too close.

“Rykk,” you said coldly.

He looked up. The color drained from his face. “Ah, hell. Veyra. Always a pleasure.” He gestured for you to sit. “Can I get you a drink?”

You sat. “No.”

Rykk’s eyes flicked to Hunter. “And this is…?”

“Not your concern,” you said.

“Clone, right? Gotta say, wasn’t expecting you to show up with company.”

“Don’t push me, Tasso. You said you had something worth my time.”

Rykk hesitated. He licked his lips, checked the shadows around him, then reached into his coat. He slid a holodisc across the table — careful not to touch it too long.

“Project name is Ashveil. Kyber-enhanced plasma disruptor. Built to punch through capital-class shielding in a single blast. Nasty stuff.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “That’s not tech the Separatists should have.”

“Which is why I didn’t sell it to them.” Rykk’s voice was low. “That disc? That’s everything I have — specs, coordinates, comm logs. Took some real work to get it. Dangerous work.”

You picked up the disc slowly. “Where is the prototype now?”

Rykk hesitated again. Then: “Retrofit Ghost-class Dreadnought. No transponder, no ID. Ghost ship with a gun that can wipe a city off the map.”

Hunter leaned in. “Where was it last seen?”

Rykk gave him a sideways glare. “Four rotations ago. Draxxus Moon Station. Refueling. It won’t stay there long.”

“Who built it?” you asked.

“I—look, it’s all in the data—”

You cut him off with a cold stare, pushing a ripple of Force intimidation across the table — subtle, but sharp.

Rykk flinched. “Okay. Okay. Dr. Vel Rannik. Republic-trained. Went dark a year ago. Word is, he’s the lead.”

You leaned back. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Rykk gave a forced laugh. “So that’s it, right? We’re good now? You got what you wanted?”

You stood slowly.

Rykk’s voice trembled. “Come on, Veyra. That was good intel. You said when I paid my debt—”

You turned to face him, your voice like ice. “You’ll be let go when I say you can.”

Rykk shrank into the booth, swallowing hard.

You and Hunter walked in silence back toward the ship.

“See?” you said. “Not as bad as you thought.”

Hunter didn’t answer at first. Then, “Better safe than sorry.”

He looked at you sideways. “So, what — we track down this Dr. Rannik now?”

You shook your head. “No. The Council will decide. I’ll forward the intel and let them assign it.”

Hunter raised a brow. “You think they’ll take it seriously?”

“They’d better.”

You paused, then added: “You ready for your first debrief with the Jedi Council?”

“Oh, great,” he muttered. “That sounds like fun.”

Chapter Text

The Marauder settled onto a docking bay on Coruscant.
You checked your reflection one last time, making sure everything was in place.
“Well… this is as good as it’s going to get,” you muttered.
Stepping into the common area, you found Hunter standing by the ramp. His armor looked slightly shinier than usual, as if he’d put in extra effort to appear presentable.
“Ready?” you asked.
“Let’s get to it,” he replied.
The two of you walked in silence toward the Jedi Temple. Guards let you pass without question. At last you reached the Council chamber. You drew a steadying breath and glanced at Hunter; he gave you a small, reassuring smile.

You pushed open the great doors. The marble floor gleamed, and the faint hum of repulsorlifts vibrated beneath your boots. Around the circular room, council members appeared both in person and as shimmering blue holograms.
You bowed. “Masters.”
Hunter followed suit.
“What do you have for us, young Veyra?” Master Plo Koon asked.
You explained that a contact had provided a data disc containing intelligence on a new Separatist weapon. Slotting the disc into the projector, you showed the Council the holographic schematics. Hunter remained mostly silent, adding only concise tactical observations.
“With how far I’ve already taken this mission, I request that my squad and I continue the operation,” you said.
Master Windu’s eyes narrowed. “I am not convinced that’s wise. I’ve heard of your… questionable use of the Force on Cerea. To say I’m unimpressed is an understatement.”
Your heart sped up. “Masters, I—”
Master Ki-Adi-Mundi cut you off. “This could be a turning point in the war. A more experienced—and stable—Jedi should handle it.”
Stable? Excuse you?“Master Plo Koon will be appointed to this mission,” Master Yoda decreed.
The words hit like a stun blast. My intel. My mission.
“Masters, I would really appreciate—”
“The answer is no,” Master Windu said sharply.
Hunter stepped forward, brushing your arm. “We’ll take our leave, Masters.”
You didn’t even bow before turning on your heel and storming out, practically running through the temple halls.
“Vee, wait up!” Hunter called.
Tears threatened as you quickened your pace, cloak snapping behind you.
“Vee!” Hunter caught your elbow.
“They don’t trust me,” you snapped, struggling to keep the tears at bay.
“That doesn’t mean you throw yourself into a fight you can’t win,” he said gently.
His fingers brushed your forearm. For a moment, the two of you locked eyes. You exhaled sharply and pivoted away, continuing toward the Marauder.

You sat outside the ship, leg bouncing with pent-up fury. You’d made it clear to Hunter that you did not want to talk.
How could they take the mission and hand it to someone else? It was your intel.
You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice the figure leaning against the archway of the ship, rifle slung but idle.
“When I’m pissed, I spar,” Crosshair said dryly. “You look like you could use it.”
You glanced up at him. He wasn’t wrong. Punching that smirk of his might feel amazing.
You stood, shrugging off your robe. “No sabers. Hand to hand.”
Crosshair gave a half smile. “Didn’t plan on bringing a rifle to a fistfight.”

The two of you slipped into a quiet training room—rarely used these days, with Padawans learning their craft in real battles.
You squared your stance.
The first exchange came fast: a quick jab, his sidestep, fingers brushing your sleeve as he redirected your momentum.
You pivoted, driving a sharp kick toward his midsection.
He blocked with a forearm and countered with a low sweep.
You hopped over it, landing light, pulse rising.
Again—strike, block, feint.
Each movement sharpened your focus, burning away the Council’s sting.
His style was maddeningly controlled, every dodge a quiet taunt.
“You call that a fight?” he murmured.
“Try harder,” you shot back, lunging forward.
He caught your wrist mid-punch, twisted, and you spun with the motion, breaking free before he could lock the hold.
Your palms met in a sudden clash, both pushing, breath mingling.
For a heartbeat you were nose to nose, his grip warm around your forearm.
“Better?” he asked, low.
“Not yet,” you whispered.
Neither of you moved.
The air tightened, the room shrinking until there was only the thrum of your heartbeat and the flicker of his eyes.
Crosshair leaned in and caught your lips in a kiss. Right there, you forgot about everything. The war. The council. The code. Just his lips. His tongue began to lick at your lips begging for access which you eagerly gave him. Your tongues begin to dancing together and exploring each others mouths.
Crosshair then kicked your leg out from under you and pinned you to the ground, hands above your head. Your heart started racing. All you can think is that you want more. Your hips began to involuntarily grind against his. You could feel his length. Hard.
He moved your hands into just one of his hands and the other went to your throat, lightly cutting off oxygen. You let out a little whimper and you could hear him chuckle.
“Sounds like you want someone else to be in charge for a bit don't you general?” Crosshair whispered in your ear. You clenched around nothing. Your hips still grinding into his.
The hand that was around your neck made its way under your tunic. You heart rate spiked.
You loose your vision and suddenly you see your younger self again, surrounded by the red lighting. The younger you looks scared.
You snap back to reality. “No… I can’t” you breathe.
Crosshair immediately reclines back, removing himself from you. “Your call General.”
He stands up and offers you a hand to help you up which you shyly take.

You sat in the cockpit of the Marauder, mind replaying the day’s events. So many emotions twisted together: frustration, confusion, something else entirely.
Why had the Force shown you that vision of your younger self?
Was it warning you?
Trying to stop you from breaking the Code?
The comm station blinked with an incoming transmission. You tapped the control.
Anakin’s voice came through, background noise of blaster-fire and shouting.
“We’ve got a situation. Need the Bad Batch—and you, Vee. Coordinates en route.”
The transmission cut.
Hunter stepped into the cockpit, meeting your eyes.
“What are your orders, General?”
You drew a steady breath. “Get Tech to power up the ship. We’re meeting the 501st.”

Chapter Text

You wake groggy after another night of restless sleep. You can’t shake the Force vision of the younger version of yourself—or the memory of Crosshair’s kiss. His touch still lingers on your lips.

You roll out of bed, bracing for another fantastic day… right.

The scent of fresh caf draws you to the common area. Crosshair is already at his station, cleaning his rifle—of course. He looks up as you enter, and your eyes meet. The silence between you feels heavy, charged. You glance away, and he chuckles under his breath.

Hunter steps beside you to refill his cup, one brow arched as if to ask whether you’re all right. You give him a small smile and a nod. He doesn’t look convinced.

Tech strides in next, datapad in hand. “I’ve received coordinates from General Skywalker and ran a quick threat analysis. Separatist activity is dense near an Outer Rim supply hub. No wonder the 501st is stretched thin,” he says matter-of-factly.

“We’re going in strong and united,” you reply, forcing steadiness into your voice. “We’ll end this chaos swiftly and show them what we’re made of.” You refuse to let personal turmoil ripple through the team.

Later, you sit alone in the cockpit as the ship glides through hyperspace, datapad balanced on your knee while you skim mission reports. The quiet thrum of the hyperdrive almost lulls you when you sense Hunter’s presence before he steps inside.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Why?” You don’t look up.

“Didn’t know if you were still upset about the Council meeting. But, after some time with Crosshair you seem… less angry. Just a little confused now.” His voice is calm, probing but gentle.

Heat floods your cheeks. “I—uh…”

He offers a faint smile. “You don’t owe me an explanation about whatever happened between you two. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You nod, grateful for the out. “I’m going to check my gear before we drop out of hyperspace,” you say, excusing yourself.

On the way back to your quarters you pass Crosshair. That signature smirk tugs at his mouth. “Sleep well last night, General?” he drawls.

Your pulse jumps; your cheeks warm. You glare and keep walking, but you can still feel his eyes on you. Why does this have to be so complicated? The memory of his weight above you, the strength in his hands, flashes unbidden. The Jedi Code forbids attachment, not intimacy—but you know how quickly one can lead to the other, and how easily attachment feeds the dark side. Maybe that’s why the visions keep coming: a warning of what happens if you give in.

The holo-call flickers to life in a cone of blue light. Anakin Skywalker’s image sharpens, all urgency and command.

“We’ve located a Separatist prototype-an energy cannon powerful enough to gut a fleet. It’s hidden inside a freighter hub near Yost Prim. Intercept before they jump to hyperspace. republic reinforcements are hours out. You’re it.”

The transmission ends with a hiss. Silence follows.

Hunter adjusts his gauntlets. “You heard the General. In and out, fast.”

Your transport kisses the underside of the station’s hull with barely a clang. A maintenance hatch opens, exhaling the cold tang of recycled air.

Hunter and Tech slip ahead toward the sensor array, Wrecker will be the get away driver, leaving you and Crosshair crouched in the gloom of the service corridor.

Metal echoes under your boots as you follow. Close—too close—Crosshair’s shoulder brushes yours.

“Keep your breathing steady,” he murmurs, voice a rasp in the quiet. “You’re loud enough to wake a clanker.”

You shoot him a look. “Focus on the mission.”

“Always do,” he replies, eyes lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary before scanning the shadows ahead.

A sudden whine of servos slices the silence.

Red optics flare in the dark—battle droids pour from side passages like a tide of metal.

“Ambush!” Crosshair snaps his rifle to his shoulder.

Blasterfire erupts, bolts scorching the narrow corridor. You ignite your saber with a snap-hiss, emerald light flooding the gray walls.

The first wave rushes in. You pivot low, slicing through two droids at the knees. Crosshair fires over your shoulder, each shot a concussive pop that rattles your teeth.

Another squad advances from the rear. A bolt grazes your hip—heat sears through your tunic as you spin, parrying a barrage that sends sparks cascading like miniature meteors.

“Left flank!” Crosshair barks.

You vault the piping, land in a crouch, and drive the saber upward. Molten metal rains down, the scent of ozone sharp and bitter.

The deck trembles under a muffled explosion. Panels buckle, venting steam so thick it blinds you both. Through the haze, crimson bolts streak past—too close.

Crosshair curses, switching to short bursts. “They’re herding us.”

A heavy clanker lumbers forward, shield projector glowing. You hurl a burst of Force energy; it staggers but keeps coming. Crosshair’s next shot shatters the projector and the droid topples, sparking.

Another detonation rocks the floor. You’re thrown sideways, shoulder slamming into cold durasteel. The Force screams a warning—move—just as a charge detonates where you stood, showering the corridor with shrapnel.

Your ears ring. Crosshair’s silhouette looms through the smoke, rifle swinging in controlled arcs. “Still breathing?” he calls, voice rough.

You nod, pushing to your feet. “For now.”

The next wave is already rushing in.

The battle narrows to a single frantic rhythm—parry, strike, dodge—until the world blurs.

A vision sears across your senses: a younger version of yourself stands amid ruin, whispering, Not this path.

You blink it away, but the echo lingers as you register the stakes. Ahead, the weapon core hums behind a sealed bulkhead. Beside you, Crosshair is pinned beneath fallen piping, blaster slipping from his grasp while droids close in.

The Council’s doubts echo in your mind. She isn’t ready.

You exhale, letting the Force flood your limbs. With a snap of your wrist you rip the debris away and launch forward. Your saber spins in a blazing arc, deflecting a volley back into the attackers. Crosshair retrieves his rifle and covers you, his shots perfectly timed with your movements.

“Move!” you shout.

Together you surge toward the core. You leap the final barricade, plunge the blade deep into the humming generator. Sparks erupt, the prototype shrieking as its power collapses in a deafening thunderclap.

The deck lurches, lights guttering as alarms wail. You and Crosshair sprint through the smoke toward the extraction point, every step an echo of your pounding heart.

Hunter and Tech arrive just as the final explosion rocks the deck. The team sprints for the Marauder, alarms wailing behind you.

Once safely aboard, silence settles—save the fading hum of hyperspace prep.

Crosshair leans against the bulkhead, eyes unreadable. “Nice work, General,” he says quietly, a rare note of respect threading the words.

You meet his gaze. The Force steadies beneath your pulse, yet a faint warning lingers, like a storm just beyond the horizon.

Across the cabin, Hunter watches the exchange, suspicion flickering in his sharp eyes.

The Marauder hums steady in hyperspace, stars streaking past the viewport in silver threads. A familiar blue shimmer blossoms in the center of the cabin—Anakin Skywalker’s hologram, arms crossed but wearing a faint grin.

“Impressive work,” he says, eyes sweeping over the squad. “The prototype’s gone, but we’re picking up strange residual energy signatures across that sector. Could be part of something bigger. Stay alert—I’ll forward intel as soon as we have it.”

The holo flickers once and vanishes, leaving only the ship’s quiet thrum.

You lean against the bulkhead, letting the vibration of the hyperdrive settle into your bones. The vision from the fight presses at the edges of your mind—the child version of yourself, the whisper: Not this path. It lingers like a phantom echo, impossible to dismiss.

Across the compartment, Crosshair strips and cleans his rifle with meticulous care. He doesn’t look up, but you feel his awareness—a quiet gravity that pulled you through the chaos. A current hums between you—unspoken, undeniable.

You inhale slowly, centering in the Force. It steadies you, but offers no answers.

From the cockpit doorway, Hunter’s voice cuts through the hush. “Whatever that weapon was, it isn’t the end of this.” His eyes narrow, studying you a heartbeat longer than the others. “I can feel it. You can too.”

You meet his gaze. There’s no challenge in it—just a recognition of something neither of you can name.

The stars outside blur into darkness as the ship speeds on. The war was far from over—and neither were the choices the Force demanded.

Chapter Text

The Marauder hummed as it drifted through hyperspace. The cockpit was quiet and dim. Crosshair sat in one chair, methodically cleaning his rifle. Tech muttered to himself over readouts on his datapad, and Wrecker snored softly.

You were lost in thought. Not this path. The phrase kept replaying in your mind. What could it mean?

You didn’t notice Hunter standing in the doorway, watching you. He saw the tension in your shoulders, the way you kept flexing your fingers as if sensing something in the Force.

He stepped forward. “Care to join me in a systems sweep? I don’t believe you’ve had a proper tour yet.” He held out a hand.

You were startled but accepted, grateful for the distraction.

Following him into the cargo hold, you heard him say, “You’ve been pacing since the jump. You okay?”

“Yeah, totally fine,” you replied, though your voice came out thin and tired. Hunter raised an eyebrow.

The cargo hold was nearly dark except for the starfield visible through a viewport. Hunter checked a few panels, giving you space to speak.

“No, I’m not,” you admitted at last. “The Force has been…strange. It’s like something is pulling me. I keep seeing a younger version of myself. Earlier I heard her say, not this path. I don’t know what it means. This war—it feels like it’s changing me, and I’m scared.”

Hunter came to sit beside you. “I understand. I may not have the Force, but I can sense danger. It’s something I’ve honed in countless battles.”

“What if the Force is warning me about my choices?” you asked softly.

“Choices like Crosshair?” he pressed.

Your cheeks flamed. “I’m more afraid of the vision than anything else.”

Hunter scooted closer, voice steady and grounding. “You’re stronger than any vision. And you’re not alone.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his finger lingering for a heartbeat.

You felt the warmth of his touch, the ship’s low hum amplifying every small sound—his breathing, the faint creak of his boots. Your heart raced.

The Force swirled between you two, a soft glow of comfort.

You push closer to him until your foreheads touch and his hand slides lightly to your waist.

This isn’t attachment, its comfort right? Your heart pounds with something more.

“Tell me to stop” Hunter whispers.

You don’t say anything, instead you tilt your head and your lips meet. Slow, exploratory and charged at first. His hands find the back of you neck and pulls you closer into something hunger. Your hands find their way into his hair and you lightly tug, pulling a low growl out of him. He pulls your hair to the side exposing your neck, lightly biting and sucking. You let out soft little moans.

“Most beautiful kriffing noise I’ve ever heard,” he says into your neck. 

He makes his way back up to your lips. He sucks in your bottom lip and gently bites. He moves and pushes you down so you are laying down and he is on top of you. He spreads open your legs and moves in between them. He looks down at you like your something to eat.

“Just say the word, and I’ll stop,” Hunter says.

All you could think about was him. You just wanted him. You wanted to feel him.

 “Please. Want to feel you,” you moan out.

A smirk comes across his face and his lips meet yours again. He begins to pull at your tunic, tugging it off. You feel exposed in the cool ship air and even more exposed with him looking down at you. Your nipples are hard as the air hits them. He immediately descends down on your breasts, taking one in his mouth and swirling it with his tongue. He gives the neglected one attention with his other hand moving it between his thumb and finger.

“Fuccckkkkkkk,” you moan out, hands grabbing his hair.

“Be quite meshla or we might get an audience,” Hunter warns.

You get slick just at the thought. The rest of your crew watching you come undone under their leader.

“Oh you like that idea?” Hunter teases. “You’re a dirty little girl aren’t you?”

All you can do is moan in response as he goes back to work on your nipples. Your hips are moving involuntarily against his.

“Eager little one aren’t you?” Hunter says and puts his fingers in the waist band of your pants. He looks in your eyes as if he was asking for permission.

“Please,” you whine back in response.

Hunter takes your leggings and panties off exposing your heated core to him. He groans at the sight of it which in turns makes you wetter.

He takes one of his fingers and slides it though your folds gathering your slick. 

“So wet for me baby,” Hunter moans. He takes his finger and puts it in his mouth to taste your slick.

“Mmmhhhh so good too,” he says. “Better than I imagined.”

He descends to your pussy and starts by licking a long wide strip up causing you to jump a little. His hands take your legs and lifts them up and presses down to pin you down, totally exposed to him and at his mercy. His tongue finds your clit and he begins to lick and suck. He takes one of his hands and slow pushes a finger into you. You moan out in ecstasy as he begins to pump into you.

“Can you take another one meshla?” Hunter asks, his voice dark.

“Yes please yes” you moan in reply.

Hunter pushes another finger into you and starts making a ‘come here’ motion with his fingers, consistently hitting that spongy spot inside you. The coil inside your belly begins to get tighter and tighter, needing just a little more to push you over the edge.

“Come on my fingers. Now.” Hunter orders.

That did it. Your orgasm crushed though you like a raging waterfall. You weren’t aware that you were basically screaming and Hunter had to cover your mouth with his other hand. 

Once you came down from your high and back to reality, you glanced at Hunter. He was smiling at you. You sat up and reached for the waist band of his bottoms. 

“Hunter, Vee, get to the cockpit- new contacts dropping from hyperspace!” Tech yelled into the coms.

You groan and Hunter kisses you on the forehead.

 “Later,” he whispers. 

Once you’d both hurriedly dressed and entered the cockpit, Tech already had a holomap glowing with unexpected Separatist signatures.

“Tech, we need a course correction—now!” Hunter barked, his authority turning you on slightly from what just happened less than three minutes ago.

Crosshair’s eyes flicked to you and Hunter. You couldn’t decipher his thoughts, but you knew he suspected what had just happened.

You slipped into your seat. The Force brushed your mind again: Choices have consequences.

Across the cabin, Hunter caught your gaze. He didn’t speak, but you knew he’d felt something too.

The Marauder leapt back into hyperspace, yet the distance between you and Hunter stretched far beyond light-years.

Chapter Text

It is the middle of the night and you are in the cockpit on watch while the rest of the team sleeps. You can’t stop pacing back and forth, the Force’s words echoing in your head. Choices have consequences.

It isn’t exactly positive, but it isn’t negative either. All choices have consequences. Even the good ones. A choice always leads to a result.

Not only is that on your mind, but you’re still feeling… unfinished… from your time with Hunter. You were able to finish, and it was amazing, but you wanted to go farther — until it was rudely interrupted.

You sigh. It’s all so complicated. Fooling around with your second-in-command is foolish, but you had been pulled to let it happen. You hadn’t wanted to stop.

A light knock pulls you from your thoughts. Standing in the doorway, wearing his signature smirk, is Crosshair. Another one you feel drawn to — another one you don’t want to stop.

“You’re doing a pretty lousy job of being on watch. So stuck in your thoughts anything could happen and you wouldn’t notice,” Crosshair drawls.

“Back off. I didn’t see you volunteer to be on watch so everyone else could sleep,” you snap back.

“Tell me what it is, General. What’s bothering you? And don’t lie — you’re worse at that than Wrecker hiding his snacks,” he presses.

You take a deep breath. For being an intel officer, lying to those you care about has never been your strength.

“I feel like I’m being pulled in different directions by the Force. I think I’m making the correct choice, but then it pulls me another way. Then I make that choice, and it pulls me again. I’m not sure what it wants me to do,” you admit.

Crosshair steps closer, leaning on one of the seats. “Everyone has choices, and everyone has regrets. You just live with them.”

“Do you have regrets?” you ask, your voice small.

He closes the space between you. “Not really. I do regret not going farther the other night.” His voice dips low, a whisper against your ear. “I wanted to taste more of you.”

Heat shoots straight to your core, wetness pooling between your legs. You look up into Crosshair’s eyes as he towers over you. You’ve never realized how much smaller you are compared to him until now.

Crosshair grabs your jaw, pulling you closer as he captures your lips in a heated kiss. Unlike Hunter’s gentleness, Crosshair is possessive.

He licks at your lips, demanding access, which you willingly give.

He pushes you down into a seat and breaks the kiss.

“I don’t want to stop this time. So stop me now,” he warns.

“I don’t care anymore,” you breathe.

“Good girl,” Crosshair smirks.

He kneels down on the ground in front of you and immediately pulls your leggings and panties off. He grins when he sees your bare core staring at him.

“Kriffing perfect,” he says.

You whimper out a little response. 

He licks a long stripe up your folds which makes you shiver. Finding your clit he sucks and licks while you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Cross…” you moan out.

He smacks your ass then grabs your thighs pulling you in closer to him. He eats you up like he was a staved man. He was pulling the orgasm out of you. It was getting closer and closer.

“Fuck I’m gonna….” You whined out.

“Come” he said back.

And you did.

He worked you through your high until you came back down.  You looked him in the eyes and they were black with hunger and lust. You pushed him back so he was standing and you dropped to your knees. 

He chucked knowing what you were going to do as you looked up at him through your lashes. He dropped his pants and his cock sprung out. Just as you had felt before, he was large and curved slightly upward. You were a little afraid that he wasn’t going to fit.

You started off by giving him little kitten licks and working up to taking him in your mouth. He gathered your hair into a ponytail and controlled your moments. He pushed your head down on his cock as far as it would go. You began drooling and sputtering.

“Fucckkkkkk good girl…” he moaned pulling you off his cock, drool making a string from your mouth to his cock.

“I wanna fuck that pussy now,” he growled and pushed you back on the chair. 

You opened your legs for him and he ran his cock through your folds gathering some of your slick. 

He pushed himself in in one swift motion. He was so big but if felt so good.

He began pumping into you in slow hard motions.

“Fuck that’s right baby girl, take my fuckin cock just like that,” he said.

He began to pump faster setting a brutal pace. The familiar coil inside you began to get tight again. You gripped onto his biceps.

“Fuck please don't stop,” you whined.

He did not stop. He kept going until your orgasm washed over you. He worked you through your orgasm continuing to fuck you. 

He began pumping faster and harder than you had thought possible before, chasing his own release. He came with a growl, hot ropes of cum filling your insides. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, trying to catch your breath.

“Sorry,” he says.

“For what?” You question.

“I should have asked if I could come in you first. I guess I just assumed you had the implant,” he admitted.

“It’s okay. I do,” you said. 

He stood up and pulled his boxers back on. 

“Stay right there,” he said and went out the cockpit door, leaving you sitting there, legs open, with his cum dripping out of you. For any other member of the squad to walk in on.

He returned quickly with a warm damp cloth and began to clean you up. When he was done he gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Woah, didn’t know you had a soft side,” you joked.

“Keep up the attitude and that side will be gone,” he challenged back.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you laughed. 

The next cycle dawns quietly aboard the Marauder. The ship glides through hyperspace, the hum of its engines steady in the background.

Tech is the first to break the calm. He leans closer to his console, muttering under his breath as he scrolls through readouts. His voice sharpens.

“Separatist movement detected.” His fingers fly across the controls.

A holomap flickers to life above the console. Dozens of red blips cluster together, creeping across the sector like spreading fire. Tech adjusts his goggles, jaw tightening.

“Intercept orders coming through from the Council. They want us to investigate this convoy. Disruption is the directive.”

Hunter moves behind him, arms crossed as he studies the projection. His expression is unreadable, but the weight in his voice is unmistakable. “Prep for deployment.”

His focus is absolute, every word clipped and steady. But when his gaze flicks your way, you feel it — the tension from last night, the unspoken questions neither of you dared voice. Across the cockpit, Crosshair is quiet, his eyes cutting toward you with a sharpness that makes your chest tighten. Whatever he’s thinking, he keeps it buried.

“Finally!” Wrecker slaps his hands together with such force the panels rattle. His grin is wide, boyish. “A real fight! Been too long.” He starts pulling gear from the racks, humming tunelessly.

Crosshair sits at the weapons bench, long fingers drawing a whetstone down the edge of his vibroblade. Shhhk. Shhhk. Each stroke is deliberate, unhurried, the sound filling the silence between conversations.

Tech rattles off convoy specs — number of transports, probable escorts, weak points in their formation. He speaks faster the longer he goes, sliding into jargon even Hunter tunes out halfway through.

You steady your hands as you strap into your harness. Unsettled from the night before, the Force whispering in your ears like an echo chamber — low, insistent.

Tech notices. He pushes his goggles up and beckons you closer.

“Backup systems,” he says. “If primary shielding fails again, reroute here. Watch.”

You follow his gestures, fingers brushing over the controls as he demonstrates. His instructions are quick but patient, his tone the calm in the storm. For a moment, you forget the hollow dread in your chest. Routine steadies you.

The convoy emerges out of hyperspace with precision, droid fighters fanning out like carrion birds around their transports.

Hunter grips the controls. “Positions.”

The Marauder dives into the fray. Blaster fire streaks the void in brilliant bolts of red. Wrecker whoops as he swings the cannon mounts, his laughter echoing louder than the weapons. Tech calls out adjustments, words tumbling too fast to keep up.

Crosshair’s voice cuts clean through the chaos. “Two degrees lower.”

Hunter obeys without hesitation. Crosshair fires, his shot slicing through the narrow seam between two fighters. Both ships erupt in flame.

But for every fighter destroyed, more swarm in. The Marauder shudders, shields flickering. Hunter curses. “We’re not winning this in the air. Strap in.”

The descent rattles your bones. The ship slams into dirt with bone-jarring force, skidding across loose soil and belching smoke. The ramp drops before the dust has time to settle.

You charge out with the others. The world erupts — blaster bolts scream overhead, dirt explodes in plumes, the smell of scorched metal burns your nose.

Hunter leads the charge, every movement sharp, lethal. Crosshair is a shadow at his side, rifle snapping up and down with uncanny precision. Wrecker plows forward like a tank, knocking droids aside with his sheer bulk.

You keep close to Tech, who grips his datapad in one hand, blaster in the other. He jerks his chin toward the ridge. “Relay station. We cut their comms, we cripple their coordination. Come on.”

You follow, weaving through fire. A bolt grazes your shoulder — you throw up a hand, shoving with the Force. The droid stumbles, bolts firing wild as it crashes into its comrades.

Tech is already at the panel, tools clattering as he works. “Cover me,” he mutters.

Droids pour in, mechanical voices barking. You throw your hands out again, Force surging, knocking a line of them back. Tech mutters equations and wiring sequences like a prayer, sweat dripping down his temples.

Finally—

“Done!” He yanks a wire free.

And the world explodes.

The blast rips through the relay station with a roar that deafens you. The floor buckles. You’re thrown back, ribs screaming as you hit the wall. Heat sears your skin, smoke burning your lungs.

Through the haze, Tech lies crumpled near the panel, blood streaking his armor, his breath shallow.

“Tech!” you rasp, crawling toward him. Every move is knives in your chest.

The door bursts open. Wrecker’s roar shakes the walls. “I’ve got you!”

He scoops Tech up over one shoulder, you in the other arm, barreling out like a battering ram.

Outside, chaos reigns. Hunter and Crosshair cut down droids with ruthless precision. Crosshair’s shots are sharper, colder than you’ve ever seen — every bolt fueled by something sharp and bitter.

Back on the Marauder, the world narrows.

You lie on the bench, skin blistered, breath catching with every inhale. Tech lies across from you, pale, muttering half-formed equations that dissolve into groans.

Hunter and Wrecker hover over you both, pressing bacta patches, setting splints, doing everything they can — but it isn’t enough. Tech’s blood seeps too fast. Your ribs ache with every shallow breath, dizziness pulling you under.

Crosshair leans against the wall, rifle slack at his side. His eyes never leave you. For once, he says nothing.

Hunter crouches at Tech’s side, jaw set so tight it might crack. His anger simmers — not at you, not even at the separatists — but at the thought of losing what he’s sworn to protect.

“Crosshair, get us out of here! We need to get them to a medical station. Now!” Hunter barks.

That is the last thing you hear before darkness swallows you.

An annoying beeping wakes you. White light burns your eyes.

“She’s awake!” someone shouts.

“Shhh! You don’t need to yell,” another scolds.

You sit up, wincing. Your squad stands there — minus Tech. Panic seizes you. “Where is Tech? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Hunter says quickly. “Just needs longer in the bacta tank than you do.”

Relief floods you, but the air in the room feels wrong. The Force hums with unease. They should be relieved, maybe angry — not uncertain.

“What is it?” you ask.

Hunter exhales, holding up a holo. “We had to inform the Council. This is what they said.”

The hologram flickers to life. The Jedi Council appears.

“Clone Force 99 cannot continue without proper medical support,” Master Windu declares. “We will assign a civilian medic to accompany this squad.”

The words slice through you. A civilian. Not a soldier. Not one of them.

You want to argue, to prove you aren’t fragile, but the pressure in your chest silences you.

The Force curls into your skull like smoke. Choices have consequences

Chapter Text

Mira 

You sit in the briefing room, hunched over datapads, reviewing case notes. The end of your stylus rests between your teeth as you chew nervously.

Other medics around you whisper and laugh.

“Studying like it’s finals week,” one snickers.

“Probably memorizing organ charts for fun,” another adds.

You turn to them quickly, blurting, “Did you know that when someone is flustered, nerve regrowth rates triple?”

More eye rolls. More laughter. You force a smile, trying to shake it off.

You wish people understood. You’re not showing off — you genuinely love this stuff.

You’ve just finished med school, graduating top of your class. Despite being outgoing, you didn’t have many friends. Too many people thought you were a know-it-all, and most avoided you. So you kept to yourself, studying. And truthfully… you did enjoy it. But sometimes, you wished you had more.

“Mira Solin!” your supervisor’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. “Pack your things. You’ve been reassigned!”

You can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face as you gather your datapads and shove everything into your pack. Finally. Field work. A chance to prove yourself beyond simulations and sterile labs.

You do everything you can not to sprint down the hall to your supervisor’s office.

You knock on the door. “Sir?”

“Solin, you’re being assigned to a unit in the war as their medic,” he says, not even looking up from his datapad.

Oh. Oh kriff. The front lines. Fighting alongside soldiers — maybe even Jedi. You press your lips together to keep from bouncing on your heels.

“Oh! Which battalion? The 501st? The 212th? Oh, what about the 104th? Or maybe the—”

“Solin! Enough!” He finally looks up, irritated. “You’re being assigned to Clone Force 99. Now get out of my office and pack your things. They’ll be here later today.”

You freeze. Clone Force 99?

You force a smile. “Thank you, sir.”

The moment you step into the hall, your grin falters. Your mind races. You’ve heard of them — experimental clones. Unpredictable. Reckless. Some even call them defective.

Your stomach knots. At least there’s one other female on the squad — Jedi Knight Veyra Taan. She seems nice… but she’s intel. She’s worked with criminals, pulled information out of them. She could probably take you down without her saber or the Force.

Enough, you tell yourself. Nobody’s fighting you. Get it together. Show them why you graduated at the top of your class.

The ship docks at the port — a modified Omicron-class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers, steam hissing.

You hurry toward it, juggling too many bags and datapads. Something slips. You bend to grab it, only to run headfirst into someone.

You yelp and crash to the ground. Datapads scatter everywhere.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” you blurt, cheeks burning as you scramble to gather your things.

A clone crouches beside you, goggles reflecting the light. He picks up one of your datapads, studying it for a second before handing it back.

“Tourniquet application in the field?” he asks, adjusting his goggles. “Do you not know how to use one?”

“What? No, I do! I just like rereading everything to make sure I know all the information I can. Not that I don’t know enough already, I just—” You catch yourself rambling and snap your mouth shut.

When you look up, the rest of them are watching.

Hunter stands tall, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He’s analyzing you, calculating whether you’re going to be an asset or a liability.

Crosshair leans against the ramp, toothpick rolling between his teeth. “Great. They sent us a kriffing nerd. She won’t last a rotation.”

Your cheeks burn hotter.

Wrecker grins wide and steps forward. “Finally, someone new! Did you pack any snacks with all those bags?” He bends down to scoop a pack off the ground for you.

Despite your embarrassment, you smile back. “No snacks… but maybe I should’ve. Something tells me you’d go through them faster than anyone else.”

“Yes, he would,” Tech replies matter-of-factly, still scanning your datapads. “Wrecker requires nearly four times as many calories as the average clone.”

Wrecker beams, proud of the observation.

Then you spot her — Veyra Taan. She’s still bandaged from the injuries that brought you here in the first place. She descends the ramp slowly, Hunter at her side. She radiates calm authority, even weakened.

Your eyes flick to her bandages. They’re loose. Too loose. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt:

“You should really keep those tighter. Pressure helps the wound heal. And you need fresh bacta applied. With them like that, you might as well not be wearing any.”

Silence.

Veyra stiffens, tugging her sleeve closer over the wrappings. Her face doesn’t change, but you know you’ve overstepped.

Kriff. Nice one, Mira.

“Well,” Veyra says after a pause, voice even. “We don’t have an official medbay, but we’ve done what we can to make space you can use. Tech, show her, please.”

She turns and walks back inside with Hunter and Crosshair.

“Come along,” Tech says, ushering you forward. Wrecker lugs the rest of your bags without complaint.

Inside, Tech leads you to the Marauder’s makeshift med station. It’s small, cramped, supplies shoved wherever they’ll fit.

But to you? It’s perfect.

Your mind races — reorganizing shelves, building efficiency from chaos, imagining ways to rewire equipment. You pull out your datapad and start sketching improvements before you realize it.

Wrecker leans over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“If I move this here and shift that over, it frees up space. That way I’d have room to work if I needed to treat someone bigger. Like you,” you say, pointing to the diagram.

Wrecker laughs. “She’s already thinking ahead.”

Tech adjusts his goggles, peering at your sketches. “That’s… actually efficient. Why didn’t I think of that before?”

Your lips curl into a small smile.

Crosshair passes by, glancing at the datapad. He smirks. “Maker help us. Now there are two of them.”

You laugh weakly, trying to brush it off, but the sting lingers.

That night, you lie in your bunk replaying the day over and over. Every awkward word. Every stumble. Every mistake.

You groan and cover your face with your hands. “Ughhh.”

You’re sure you’ve ruined your first impression. They probably think you’re clumsy. Overeager. A nuisance.

You shake the thought off. I’ll prove myself. If I can keep them alive, they’ll see I belong here.

The Marauder hums quietly around you. You feel like an outsider, yes. But also — like something big has just begun.

“They’ll see,” you whisper into the dark. “I’ll make them see.”

Chapter Text

Veyra

You wake up stiff, but moving better. Tech had been hit worse than you, but thanks to his clone DNA, he’s healing faster. Must be nice. You’re stuck with a normal human pace.

From the med station, you hear Mira’s voice — animated, muttering to herself as she reorganizes. Yesterday she had commented on your wraps being too loose. You’d done them yourself. Her words had felt rude at first, but the Force whispered that she hadn’t meant it that way. She honestly cared. You’re determined to mend the awkwardness.

You get up and make your way to the med station. Mira is knee-deep in supplies.

“If I put splints here and syringes there, I could shave 2.3 seconds off field prep time—” She stops, noticing you.

You soften, giving her a little smile. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone calculate a medical station like a battle plan.”

Mira beams. “How are you feeling this morning, General?”

“Please, just call me Vee. And I’m doing well. I was hoping you could look at my bandages, though? If you have enough room, that is,” you say, glancing at the mess of supplies scattered everywhere.

“Oh, yes, of course!” she says, clearing space for you.

She begins undoing your bandages and wrapping new ones.

“So, I hear you were top of your class in medical school,” you say, trying to spark conversation. People are always more comfortable talking about themselves.

“Yes, I was! I loved it. I love learning new things, everything about the body. It’s fascinating. But… I didn’t have many friends. I spent so much time studying….” Mira keeps talking, words tumbling out.

You watch her as she works — bright, animated, entirely sincere. She isn’t arrogant, you realize. She’s passionate. And maybe, in the future, she could be someone you lean on.

“All done!” Mira says proudly. “Come to me tomorrow and I’ll redo them for you.”

“Thank you,” you reply, standing.

“Umm, Vee?” Mira asks.

You turn. “Yes?”

“I just want you to know… I didn’t mean to sound rude yesterday about your bandages. Sometimes words just leave my mouth and I don’t realize how I’m saying them until it’s too late.” She looks down, sheepish.

“No worries. It’ll be nice to have a medic on the team, because clearly, we don’t know what we’re doing,” you joke.

Mira smiles and goes back to organizing.

You head out toward your quarters. In the hallway, Crosshair is waiting with his signature smirk. You roll your eyes.

He catches your arm gently, pulling you close. His voice drops low: “You keep looking at me like it didn’t happen. But it did. And you loved it.”

You freeze. Crosshair’s presence tugs at you in a raw, physical way. But the Force whispers again: Choices have consequences.

You don’t argue. You don’t give in either. You yank your hand free and continue down the corridor.

Later that day, you sit in the cockpit. The hum of hyperspace fills the silence. Hunter enters and shuts the door behind him.

“You’re carrying more weight than usual. Not just your injuries,” he says.

You hesitate. “It’s complicated. The Force keeps pulling me in different directions. I can’t tell if I’m making the right choices.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean wrong. It just means you care more about the outcome.” He sits across from you.

“I feel like I’m torn,” you admit, curling your knees to your chest. “Between being a leader, a Jedi general… and giving in to what I want. I find comfort in all of you.”

Hunter leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Being a leader doesn’t mean cutting yourself off from feeling. It means knowing why you make your choices. Whether it’s the mission or your heart — own it.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t help. I feel like I can’t be both a leader and… whatever I am with you and Crosshair.”

Hunter leans back, calm. “Strength is in balancing. Not denying.”

And then — it clicks. The Force wasn’t warning you to avoid. It was warning you to take responsibility. That no matter the path, you must own your choices.

The weight lifts. Hunter sees it too. He smiles.

“Looks like you get it now,” he says simply. “Go to bed. You haven’t slept well these past few nights, and something tells me you’ll rest easier now.”

You nod. Before leaving, you turn back and give him a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

He smiles back, nodding once.

On your way to your quarters, you pass the med station. Mira is chattering happily to Wrecker about how she reorganized supplies.

She notices you, cheeks pink. “Umm, hi Vee. Want to see the changes I made?”

“Sure,” you say, stepping inside.

Mira proudly walks you through every improvement, babbling with enthusiasm. Despite yourself, you smile at her energy.

She’s going to be a great addition to the team.

Chapter Text

Mira

You sat at the table, datapad clutched tightly in both hands, trying not to fidget as Hunter and Vee briefed the squad. The others looked calm and professional, like this was routine. For you, it wasn’t routine at all. It was your very first mission. Your palms were sweaty, and you focused on evening out your breathing.

Hunter and Vee laid out the plan: disrupt a Separatist weapons supply chain. Insertion, sabotage, and extraction. If things went according to plan, you’d cross paths with the 212th at some point.

You listened hard, taking frantic notes.

“We may also come across those new plasma blasters,” Vee explained.

“Yeah, so be on the lookout for those,” Hunter added.

Without thinking, you blurted: “Plasma burns are different from regular blaster wounds. I’d need a different concentration of bacta patches to make treatment effective.”

“Actually, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Tech began, pushing up his goggles. “As the current ratio is 3:1, you would need… wait a moment… you are correct. Brilliant.”

“Much you,” you said before you could stop yourself. You’d been trying to say much appreciated and thank you at the same time. Your cheeks went red as the words stumbled out.

“She’s gonna pack us three medpacks each, I feel like!” Wrecker joked.

You laughed nervously, relieved by his friendliness.

Glancing at Vee, you worried you’d overstepped — taken her briefing from her. She looked pale, still healing, but you’d approved her for full duty anyway. You hadn’t wanted to upset her, even though technically you could’ve overridden her. You were worried, but you hoped she’d be okay.

Vee’s eyes met yours, steady and calm, and she gave you a small nod of encouragement. It grounded you instantly.

The Marauder landed in a clearing just outside the target zone. Your gear clanked with every step, straps slipping loose. You knew you were carrying too much, but the thought of being unprepared as a medic terrified you.

The Batch disembarked smoothly, weapons at the ready. You stumbled on the ramp, nearly falling headlong.

“Deadweight,” Crosshair smirked.

Heat rushed to your face, but Vee’s look of disapproval silenced him. She walked close enough to brush a hand lightly against your shoulder. You clung to that reassurance, breathing a little steadier as you followed the squad.

You’d barely been walking two miles when blasterfire erupted ahead. An ambush.

“Plan 43!” Hunter barked.

The clones fell into position instantly. What the kriff was Plan 43?

Panic took over. You dropped to the ground in the middle of the field, hands over your head, praying nothing would hit you.

A droid broke through, blaster trained on you. You scrambled backward, heart pounding.

“Wrecker! Medic!” Hunter shouted.

Wrecker charged in, blasting the droid apart in seconds. Then he scooped you up and slung you over his shoulder mid-run.

“Hopefully you’re better at patchin’ us up than fightin’!” he laughed.

Mortification burned through you. So embarrassing.

As Wrecker carried you past Vee, you glanced at her face. It was unreadable. Shame curled in your gut. You were sure you’d disappointed her.

Once the droids were taken care of, the team regrouped behind trees.

“Kriff…” Hunter groaned, dropping to one knee.

“What is it?” Vee asked, concern in her voice.

“Nothing. Just—agh!” He collapsed, clutching his leg.

Your training kicked in. You dropped beside him, unfastening his armor and assessing the burn. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t good either. Thankfully, you’d prepared new bacta patches tailored for plasma wounds.

You cleaned the burn quickly, applied the patch, then administered a painkiller and a stimulant. Reattaching his armor, you stepped back.

“Good to go!” you said, packing your supplies.

The squad stared. Even Vee’s eyebrows lifted.

“Wow… that was quick. Thank you,” Hunter said.

“What exact concentration did you use?” Tech asked immediately, eyes sharp.

“2.25:1. Based on the compounds in plasma…” you began, and the words spilled out. Tech actually listened. He didn’t roll his eyes or walk away. He asked questions. Genuine questions.

Your chest warmed.

The team reached the weapons depot, where the 212th was already waiting.

“About time you showed up,” General Kenobi said with a smirk.

“You know me. Fashionably late,” Vee shot back.

“Well, let’s get this over with. Best way is straight through the front door,” Kenobi said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Vee replied, glancing back at the Batch.

And through the front door you charged.

The world exploded into chaos. Droids everywhere. Blaster bolts screamed past. Explosions rattled the ground. You had no idea where to stand, where to move. You kept stumbling into the way of firefights.

Finally, you found a slab of debris and ducked under it, gasping for breath. Pathetic. That’s how you felt. Hiding, while everyone else fought.

Then you saw him — a 212th trooper, alive but badly injured. You couldn’t just watch him die.

You bolted from cover, grabbed his arm, and began dragging him back.

A blaster bolt sizzled past your ear. Another struck the clone you were pulling. He went limp instantly.

“No—!” you gasped, but before you could react, a flash of green swept between you and the droids.

Vee.

“Stay behind us! You’re here to keep us alive, not die trying!” she shouted, voice cutting through the battle.

Shame flushed hot across your skin. You bolted back to cover.

The mission was technically a success, but back aboard the Marauder, the air was heavy.

You restocked your med station, trying to busy your hands.

“She’s going to get one of us killed,” Crosshair snapped.

“It was her first mission. Give her a chance,” Vee countered.

“I’d rather her die than one of my brothers,” Crosshair shot back.

“That’s enough,” Hunter barked.

Tears burned your eyes. You blinked them away. Today had been a disaster. You couldn’t fight. You’d almost gotten yourself killed — more than once. And you had to be saved every time. Why were you even here?

The bench creaked. Wrecker plopped down beside you, holding out a snack bar.

“You fought like a trooper today,” he said with a grin.

“I was terrible,” you muttered, fumbling with the wrapper.

“Hey, you showed up. Most civilians wouldn’t even try.” Wrecker’s tone was warm, comforting. You laughed weakly.

Tech appeared in the doorway. “Could you show me how you made those patches? You did an excellent job in the field.”

Your cheeks flushed as you nodded, pulling out your datapad. Tech listened carefully as you explained your process, asking questions like he genuinely valued your expertise.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Vee in the doorway. She watched quietly, then gave you a small, approving smile. Relief swept through you. She didn’t think you were a failure.

That night, lying in your bunk, you replayed the day. Every stumble, every mistake, the sting of Crosshair’s words.

But you forced yourself to focus on other moments: the steady way Vee’s eyes followed you, the respect in Tech’s questions, the comfort in Wrecker’s jokes.

They’re warriors. You’re not.

But maybe… you don’t have to be. As long as you can keep them standing

Chapter Text

Vee

You sat on your bunk, just finishing a meditation session. The whirlwind of missions and near-death experiences had begun to weigh on you. You were exhausted, yet restless—caught between craving peace and needing connection.

You wandered the halls of the Marauder until you found Hunter in his bunk, lost in thought. He was absently twirling his knife between his fingers. When you gently knocked on the doorframe, he stopped and looked up.

“Can I come in?” you asked.

“Of course,” he replied with a small smile.

“Your mind won’t turn off either?” you asked, sitting beside him.

“Yeah… that last mission was rough,” Hunter admitted with a sigh.

“I’m sure Mira will get the hang of things,” you said. “But maybe it’s not a bad idea for us to teach her some combat basics—just enough for her to hold her own.”

Hunter gave a small laugh. “What are you talking about? She did great.”

You laughed too. “Yes, because lying in the middle of a battlefield trying not to get hit by blaster fire is so great. She did do well patching you up, though. I’ll give her that.”

“She did,” Hunter murmured, glancing down at his leg before staring off to the side.

“What is it?” you asked gently.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I worry about the squad. About losing someone—and it being my fault. I know you’re technically the one in charge, but they’re my brothers. I was conditioned to lead them, to keep them alive. We can’t be perfect every time.”

You studied him quietly. Hunter rarely let anyone see this side of him—the one beneath the stoic, commanding exterior. Here, he was just a man burdened by the weight of responsibility.

“I understand,” you said softly. “But you’re smart, and so are they. I couldn’t have been luckier that the Force led me to your squad.” You rested a hand on his knee.

Hunter looked up, meeting your eyes. You didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, searching, almost reading into your soul. When your hand slid gently up his arm, he didn’t pull back. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You felt the air shift—something quiet but undeniable growing between you. His awareness of you was almost tangible, as if he could sense every breath, every heartbeat.

Hunter leaned in and kissed you softly, one hand coming up to your cheek. When he pulled back, his eyes bore into yours.

“I’m tired of denying what I want,” you whispered.

“What is it that you want?” he asked.

Instead of answering him, you grabbed his face and pulled him in for a heated kiss. This time, it was full of passion and energy. You both were hungrier. You licked his lips trying to gain access to his mouth. He allowed it and grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you to straddle his lap.

You involuntarily started to grind down on his lap, feeling his hard cock.

“Fuck meshla,” Hunter moaned. “Wanted you so bad since the other night.”

He began to move his hips grinding into you.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he snarled. 

He flipped the two of you over so he was on top of you as you laid down.

“Please baby, let me have you,” Hunter said into your neck, kissing it.

“Please take me,” your voice came out as a little squeak. That was all the answer that he needed. 

He quickly shred the clothes off the both of you until you were both bare. He took his cock and moved it between your folds gathering your slick.

“Damn baby, is this all for me?” He said with a dark grin.

You blushed and nodded your head yes.

He chuckled darkly and leaned down to kiss you again. 

“Tell me you want this,” he said, a final permission for him.

“Yes please Hunter, give it to me,” you moaned.

That was all the permission he needed. He thrusted into you slowly, one little pump at a time until he bottomed out. His cock was slightly smaller than Crosshair’s but it was defiantly thicker. 

“Fuck...” Hunter moaned reaching down to rub your clit.

He began to fuck you harder so that your tits bounced with every thrust of his. Your moans were getting slightly louder. Hunter cut them off by placing a hand on your throat and squeezing gently until the corners of your vision began to go dark.

“Look at you taking my cock like a good fucking girl,” Hunter said into your ear.

A wave of slick coated his cock and your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

Hunter chuckled darkly. “Oh you like it like this? What a dirty little jedi our general is. You wanna come on your sergeant’s cock little girl?” He asked, fucking you harder.

“Yes please sir!” You said as well as you could with his hand still around your throat. The coil in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter and you just needed a little something else to push you over the edge. 

Hunter seemed to sense this and leaned down to kiss you, then put his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes, into your soul. 

“Come on my cock baby,” he whispered.

The coil inside you snapped and you came with a loud wonton moan. He silenced it with a kiss.

When you were back from your high, you could tell Hunter was almost close.

“Where?” He asked in between thrusts.

“Inside” you moaned, still in a blissed out state.

He came hard and with a loud groan, rutting all his seed into you.

He laid on top of you for a few moments before sitting up. He gave you a quick kiss on the nose and got up and ran to the refresher. He came back with a towel and cleaned you up.

Hunter pulled you into his arms beneath the blanket, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

After a moment, he broke the silence. “So… who’s better?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He chuckled softly. “Who’s better—me or Crosshair?”

Heat flooded your face. Of course he knew.

Hunter laughed quietly and pulled you closer. “I’m kidding. You don’t have to answer. I already know it’s me.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes. “I didn’t realize it was a competition.”

“With brothers, everything is a competition,” he said, his grin returning.

“Hmmm,” you teased, “well, I might need a little more time and experience to decide that one.”

Hunter chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. The two of you drifted into comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when something real has finally been acknowledged.

Chapter Text

Mira

You blinked awake, your body sore from the tension and adrenaline of yesterday. You were still a little upset with yourself about how your first battle went.

On your way to the refresher, you overheard Vee and Hunter talking.

“She’s brilliant in the med-bay, but she froze,” Vee said.

“She just needs training. Confidence,” Hunter replied.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. So embarrassing.

You splashed cold water on your face and stared at yourself in the mirror.

Enough of this. If they’re going to risk their lives for me, I need to be worth that risk.

Later that morning, you sat in the common area, datapad balanced on your knees as you reviewed tactical procedures and defensive maneuvers.

Vee appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. “You can’t memorize your way through a firefight, Mira. Training starts today,” she said—stern but gentle.

You sputtered. “Today? Like right now?”

Hunter appeared beside her, clearly amused. “Don’t worry. We’ll start with the basics. No blasters to the face this time.”

Wrecker’s voice boomed from across the ship. “We’ll make a soldier outta you yet!”

Your nerves twisted into reluctant excitement. This was what you wanted—to be better. And who better to learn from than the Bad Batch?

The Marauder landed in a grassy clearing on a calm planet. You made sure to wear athletic clothes and tie your hair up.

Wrecker seemed a little too excited to train someone starting from level zero. He grinned at you.

“Rule one: get up when you fall! Rule two: don’t puke on my boots!”

Puke? Oh no—you were in for it now.

You dropped to the ground beside him in a push-up position. You got halfway down before collapsing, your noodle arms giving out. Wrecker was already on number sixty.

“Do you train like this every day?” you panted.

“Nah, sometimes it’s worse,” he grinned.

Next came running. Wrecker slowed his pace—clearly by at least half—to stay beside you. You tripped over your own foot and nearly face-planted, but he caught you easily.

“See? Already improving. You didn’t face-plant that time!” Wrecker laughed.

You turned red again. They were so much better than you—why were they wasting their time?

Wrecker must’ve sensed it. “Doesn’t matter how many times you fall, Mira. You just get back up.”

You smiled faintly. Maybe strength isn’t about winning fights. Maybe it’s about refusing to stay down.

After the “warm-up” (which felt more like an entire workout), Wrecker sent you over to Tech. He was already setting up hovering training drones.

Adjusting his goggles, Tech said, “Anticipate vector shifts approximately 0.7 seconds before—”

You cut him off. “Translation: move before I get hit?”

“Essentially.”

You nodded and stepped into the clearing, ready. The first few attempts were clumsy—you dodged, stumbled, and once nearly collided with Wrecker. It wasn’t pretty, but you didn’t give up.

After several tries, you finally timed it right—duck, roll, and zap! You tagged a drone.

Tech looked up, a genuine smile on his face. “Impressive. Your adaptability rate increased by twenty-six percent.”

You grinned. “So, pretty good then?”

After Tech’s lesson, it was Hunter’s turn to teach you hand-to-hand combat.

He circled you slowly—predatory, calm. “Don’t think. Feel. Let your instincts guide you.”

You tried not to think, but ended up overthinking anyway, and he easily tagged you.

“If instincts mean bruises, I’m an expert already,” you muttered, brushing off the dust.

“Instincts mean trusting yourself,” Hunter said.

He demonstrated his stance, movements smooth and deliberate. You watched closely and mirrored him.

“Good,” he said. “Now let’s try again.”

This time, when he moved, you reacted without thinking—and landed a solid kick to his gut.

You jumped back, surprised. “Yeah!”

“Beginner’s luck,” Crosshair muttered from the sidelines.

“Nah, that was skill!” Wrecker shouted.

You laughed, flushed and proud. For the first time, you felt like you might belong here.

That evening, the Batch gathered around a fire near the ship. The golden light flickered over their armor, painting the clearing in warmth.

“She nearly took Hunter down!” Wrecker bragged.

“Statistically inaccurate, but commendable,” Tech corrected, offering you a small smile.

“Next time—endurance training!” Wrecker added.

“Next time, I’m bringing tranquilizers,” you shot back.

Tech’s head snapped toward you. “Please refrain from drugging squadmates. It complicates vitals monitoring.”

You rolled your eyes.

“She’s joking… right?” Wrecker asked nervously.

“Mostly,” you said, laughing.

The group’s laughter lingered—until a faint beeping cut through the noise.

You noticed Vee pulling a holo-disc from her hand and stepping away from the fire. No one else seemed too concerned, but you caught Crosshair’s eyes narrowing and Hunter’s subtle shift in posture.

Vee’s shoulders were tense, her tone clipped. You couldn’t make out the words, but you caught snippets: “No… alone… soon.”

The call ended abruptly. Vee exhaled, then masked her unease before rejoining the circle.

You pretended to stare into the fire like you hadn’t been listening.

“Everything alright?” Hunter asked.

“Just a contact. I’ll need to leave soon,” Vee said shortly.

“I’ll go with you,” Hunter offered. “Or someone else can.”

“No. I’ll handle this alone.”

She rose and disappeared into the ship.

Silence lingered. Crosshair’s gaze followed her. Wrecker frowned. Tech fidgeted with a gadget that clearly didn’t need fixing.

Something shifted.

Whatever that call was—it wasn’t routine. And deep down, I think Vee knew we all felt it.

Chapter Text

Vee

You finished checking your gear, making sure your movements were calm, though your stomach felt tight. Just one meeting. I can handle this.

You walked out to the common area.

“I’ve got a contact on Mandalore—claims to have intel on Separatist supply lines,” you said flatly.

That was a lie. Your contact was on Kessel, a smuggler-run world drowning in crime. If you told them that, they’d worry too much.

“You want backup?” Wrecker asked.

“Not this time. It’s a routine contact,” you said with a small smile.

“Routine contacts don’t make you this anxious,” Hunter called out.

You turned to him. “I’ll be fine,” you said in an authoritative voice.

Hunter walked you out to the small shuttle you’d be using.

“Just keep your comm open, okay?” he said.

“I always do.” You winked at him.

As you powered up the ship, your heart thudded. They wouldn’t understand. This is between me and him.

You walked through the abandoned spaceport, lights flickering, dust swirling in the air. Your boots echoed across the floor. Every instinct screamed a warning.

“Still punctual, I see,” a voice said behind you.

Your hand dropped to your saber as you turned.

Jaro Dren stepped out of the shadows. He looked older than you remembered, the faint smirk on his face unchanged.

“Master Dren,” you said.

“Not anymore. The Order made sure of that.” He laughed, cold and humorless.

He began to circle you slowly. “They called me a traitor for seeing the truth. You can too—if you stop clinging to their hypocrisy.”

“You traded lives for credits,” you snapped.

“I traded survival for starvation,” he shot back, eyes hard.

You held his gaze, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears—a whirlwind of emotion flooding through you. Once, he had been comfort. He had taught you everything. Now he was danger incarnate, a man who made deals with devils and didn’t care who he hurt in the process.

“I work with Separatist contacts now—information, transport, profit,” he continued. “You could join me. No masters. No codes.”

“I’m not for sale,” you said sharply.

He smirked, clearly still measuring worth in credits.

“You’ll change your mind once you see how easy freedom feels,” he said, tone hardening.

“The only thing I’ll see is what you’ve become.” Your eyes burned; tears threatened. Memories of what was—of the man who once guided you—flashed and shattered.

“You taught me the difference between right and easy,” you said softly.

“And I learned the easy way pays better,” he replied with a smirk.

You squared your stance. “I won’t help you.”

Jaro sighed. “Then you leave me no choice.”

A flick of his wrist—something small glinted. A stun pistol.

Before you could react, a blue ring of energy hit you square in the chest. Pain exploded through your body.

Your knees buckled and you gasped as you hit the floor. Ears ringing, the world spinning.

Jaro crouched beside you. “You’ll thank me when you understand the cost of loyalty.” He pressed a mock-affectionate kiss to your cheek.

The world went dark.

You jolted awake, heart pounding, mind fogged. You were in a dark cell aboard a transport ship. A dim red light flickered overhead.

Your wrists ached. Electro-cuffs hummed faintly around them.

Instinctively, you reached for the Force—nothing. Silence. It was gone.

You tugged on the cuffs; sparks bit your skin. The shock stung like static in your veins. Your breathing quickened.

Footsteps approached. Jaro.

“Force-dampening cuffs,” he said casually. “Cost me a fortune. Worth every credit.”

“What do you want from me?” you snarled.

“Options,” he said, voice smooth and dark. “The Separatists value Jedi. The black market values them more.”

“You’re selling me to the highest bidder?” you asked, disbelief cutting through your fear.

“Sounds so cruel when you put it that way, sweetheart. But times are tough. I knew you’d be an easy catch.” His grin was all teeth.

“You’re soulless,” you hissed, turning away.

“Souls don’t buy ships.” He turned and slammed the door.

You sank to the floor, staring at your trembling hands. You couldn’t feel anything—not even the faint hum of life around you. You forced a slow breath, the same calming reflex he’d once taught you, but serenity refused to come.

You paced the tiny space, counting your steps. You lost count somewhere around eleven thousand four hundred fifty. Finally, you sat down again.

They’ll think I’m fine. Hunter will assume I’m fine.

You pressed your forehead to your knees. Will they try to find me? Or just assume I’m dead?

The lights flickered overhead. You stared upward, eyes unfocused.

“I did what was right,” you whispered to the darkness.

Chapter Text

Mira

Hunter stood at the viewport, shoulders tense.

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

“She probably just overslept,” Wrecker mumbled, half-asleep.

Hunter shook his head. “She wouldn’t.”

His voice sounded different — like he was listening for someone who wasn’t there. Vee had been gone for a rotation longer than she said she would.

You checked your datapad. “She never checked in after launch. Last ping was mid-route… then nothing.”

“Or she didn’t want to be found,” Crosshair said, jaw tight.

“Get Tech,” Hunter ordered to no one in particular.

You went to fetch Tech, still half-dozing on his bunk. You shook his shoulder gently.

“Hey. Hunter wants you.”

He blinked awake and followed you.

“Find her,” Hunter said.

Tech scrolled through transmission codes, brow furrowing. “Her transponder never reached Mandalore. It diverted — vector aligns with a small unregistered freighter near Kessel’s trade route.”

“She lied,” you whispered.

“No,” Hunter said quietly. “She tried to protect us.”

Crosshair began loading his rifle without a word.

“Strap in,” Hunter said. “We’re bringing her home.”

He said it like an order, but it sounded more like a promise.

The Marauder reached the drifting freighter just above Kessel. Tech piloted under a stealth cloak while Crosshair lined up the mag-grapples.

“We’re really boarding that tin can?” Wrecker asked.

“We don’t leave her,” Hunter replied.

The ship latched to the hull; pressure equalized with a hiss. Hunter signaled for a silent entry.

“Two life-forms. One weak,” Crosshair reported.

Your chest tightened. “That’s her.”

Hunter looked at Tech. “Find me that weak signal.”

Tech nodded, scanning. “Starboard containment deck. Minimal defenses.”

Bootsteps echoed through the corridor as the Batch advanced. Your heart thudded in your chest. You stayed close behind Wrecker’s massive frame, med-pack clutched tight.

Crosshair paused mid-stride, finger near the trigger. “She shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Hunter snapped. His voice cracked slightly — more worry than anger.

Tech stopped at a sealed door and hacked the panel. “This is it.”

The door slid open. Vee sat slumped against the wall, wrists cuffed, head bowed.

“Vee!” you shouted, rushing forward.

Hunter caught your arm. “Wait. Scan for traps.”

Tech ran a sweep, then nodded. “Clear.”

You knelt beside Vee, scanner already humming. “Pulse faint. Electro-burns on her wrists.”

Vee cracked one eye open. “Told you… I could handle it.”

Hunter crouched beside you, voice low as he lifted her chin. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Tech studied the binders. “Force-dampening cuffs — complex, but not invincible.”

He rewired the panel; a spark, a hiss, and the cuffs clicked open.

Vee gasped and collapsed forward. The Force rushed back into her like air. Her fingers trembled.

You caught her hands. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

Hunter’s hand landed on her shoulder — steady, reassuring.

Crosshair’s voice was softer than usual. “We need to move before someone notices.”

Footsteps clanged in the corridor.

A voice echoed: “You really thought you could steal from me twice, my little Padawan?”

Two men entered — one with a blaster, the other igniting a blue lightsaber. Five assassin droids followed.

“Positions!” Hunter barked.

Blaster fire exploded through the hall. You ducked behind cover with Wrecker shielding you. Tech returned fire beside you. Crosshair dropped two droids instantly.

Hunter guarded Vee’s flank as she pulled her saber to her with the Force. Its green glow flared to life in her hand. She launched herself at her former master. The clash of sabers filled the corridor, a roar of energy that swallowed every heartbeat.

“You always were too sentimental,” he sneered.

“You always mistook compassion for weakness Jaro!” Vee shouted back.

She was still sluggish from captivity; he was heavier and stronger. Sparks flew as their blades locked.

Your heart pounded as you watched. This wasn’t just a fight — it was years of betrayal unraveling.

Hunter took a step forward, but Crosshair caught his arm.

“She needs to end it.”

Hunter’s jaw clenched. Fear flickered behind his eyes, but he stayed where he was.

Jaro slashed Vee’s shoulder; she stumbled.

“See? Mercy gets you killed,” he taunted.

Vee steadied herself, eyes fierce. “No. It reminds me who I am.”

She spun, feinted, and drove her saber straight through his chest.

Jaro’s weapon clattered to the deck. He reached out, rasping, “You could have ruled.”

The light faded from his eyes. He collapsed.

Vee stood frozen for a long heartbeat, breath ragged. Then she exhaled — a sound that was half relief, half grief.

Hunter reached her first, catching her before she could fall.

“It’s over,” he murmured.

“No,” she said faintly. “It’s never over.”

You scanned her quickly as the others regrouped. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ve had worse,” Vee replied.

“That’s not comforting,” Crosshair muttered, tone edged with worry.

They sounded like themselves again — which was reassuring, but none of them were fine.

The Batch boarded the Marauder, sealed the hatch, and broke away from the freighter as it exploded in the distance.

In the med-bay, you cleaned Vee’s burns while Hunter stood beside the cot, silent and watchful. Crosshair lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, pretending not to care.

“You should rest,” you told her gently.

Vee gave a weak smile. “Rest feels wrong.”

“It’s called surviving,” Hunter said.

She smiled faintly at that, then stared off into space, eyes distant.

I thought saving her would feel like a victory. But watching her stare into the dark, I realized it’s only the beginning of something heavier.

Chapter Text

Vee

You woke to the quiet sunlight and the distant sound of waves — far too peaceful after the mission. You flexed your sore muscles and studied the faint bruises and scar along your shoulder.

There was a flicker in the Force — two heartbeats pulsing together, then a flash of light between them. You gasped, and then it vanished.

You had thought the visions were gone. Motivating yourself, you pushed the feeling away and moved to wash your face in the fresher.

After the horrors of the last mission, the Council had granted you and the squad some much-needed shore leave. You hadn’t objected; everyone could use the time off. Senator Amidala had arranged for a private villa on Naboo — a quiet stretch of coastline with its own secluded path to the sea. Each of you had your own spacious room, and you shared a kitchen, dining room, and open living area filled with sunlight.

Even after fresh water on your face and teeth brushed, you crawled back into bed, not quite ready to face the day.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Come in,” you called.

Hunter stepped inside, carrying a tray of breakfast and caf. He set it on the bedside table and sat beside you, offering a small smile. You accepted the caf, grateful for its warmth even if your appetite hadn’t yet returned. The memory of driving your saber through your master’s chest still echoed through your mind like a shadow.

“You’re not a bad person,” Hunter said quietly, as if reading your thoughts.

“I know,” you replied, staring down at your cup. “I just… feel like I lost myself for a moment. Like I wasn’t me.”

“You didn’t lose yourself,” he said, cupping your cheek. “You chose to live.”

You brought your hand to his, feeling his steady heartbeat through the Force — grounding, real. The energy between you shifted, gentle but charged. Hunter pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You should eat and get ready. Mira wants everyone to go to the market today,” he said, standing.

You groaned. “I don’t want to deal with people today.”

He chuckled. “She figured you’d say that. Said it’s part of your ‘mental healing requirements,’ so you can’t argue.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. Maybe fresh air would help.

Mira was unstoppable — all bright energy and caffeine, darting between stalls, haggling for trinkets and parts while Tech helped translate numbers. Wrecker sampled everything in sight, bringing extras for you and Mira whether you asked for them or not.

Hunter walked quietly beside you, protective but relaxed, while Crosshair trailed behind, smirking at the group’s antics. For the first time in a long while, the squad felt light again — laughter replacing silence

“You glow when you’re not brooding,” Mira teased, bumping your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t brood.”

The Force itself felt calm for once — like the tide finally receding.

Then Mira grabbed your hand. “Come with me! You boys can find something else to do!”

Before you could protest, she was dragging you into a small shop whose window display made your cheeks warm. Lingerie.

“Oh no,” you muttered.

“I need to update my stash,” she said breezily. “You should too.”

“I do not have a stash.”

She gasped dramatically. “Wait, are you—?”

“Mira,” you hissed, mortified.

“Well are you?” She asks.

“No!” You hiss.

She only grinned wider. “So it’s Hunter, then? Or both?”

“What? Mira!” you groaned, face burning.

“Oh come on Vee! You and Hunter have been eye fucking each other as long as I’ve known you. You and Cross too!” She says giggling.

You let out a groan, hand coming to your face.

Her laughter filled the shop. “Oh, Vee… we are definitely updating your wardrobe.”

Later, as dusk painted the sky in soft pinks, you walked along the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. Crosshair appeared beside you, hands tucked in his pockets.

“Are you stalking me?” you asked without looking up.

“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t drown in your own thoughts,” he said.

You laughed softly. “True.”

He walked quietly beside you for a while before saying, “You’re stronger than you realize. Facing your master like that—most couldn’t have done it.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. “Thank you.”

He pulled you gently into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, let’s head back.”

You leaned into him for a moment before nodding. The path back to the villa glowed gold beneath the setting 

You were in the bathroom staring at yourself trying to find courage. You had faced many scary things but none quite like this.

You have to wear it for Hunter and Cross tonight! They will love it!! Miras voice replays in your head.

You had told the two to come to your room as you wanted to show them something. No doubt they had an idea of what it was. After Mira dragged you into that store and now you were sure that not only Hunter but Crosshair too could hear your heart beating loudly as you were willing yourself to exit the bathroom.

Mira had picked out a red bra with cups that were non existent but held together by a satin bow. The underwear was also red with a satin bow on the back side.

Ugh just do it. You think to yourself.

Before you can stop yourself, you exited the bathroom that was attached to your room. You peaked your head out the door. 

Hunter and Crosshair were each reclined on your bed making small talk. Their heads snapped to yo when you opened the door.

“You done keeping us waiting?” Crosshair drawled.

You took a long exhale and forced yourself out of the bathroom.

“Fuckkkkk,” Hunter said.

Crosshair gave a low whistle.

Each of them got off the bed and made their way over to you. 

Crosshair grabbed you by the jaw forcing you to look at him while Hunter went behind you, hands roaming your body.

“You get this little outfit with Mira earlier?” Crosshair asked.

You nodded.

“I can’t hear you,” Crosshair said and slapped your ass.

“Yes,” your voice came out a little whimper.

“Such a shame you just bought it. We are going to destroy it aren’t we Hunter?” Crosshair said.

Hunter kissed your neck and he moaned a yes into your neck.

Your heart was racing from excitement of what these two are going to do to you. 

Crosshair took you by the jaw and lead you over to the bed. He gave you a deep kiss before pushing you down on the bed.

The two looked down at you sprawled out on the bed as they began to undress themselves. Heat flooded to your core as they look at you like your something to eat.

“Well sarge, what do you want first?” Crosshair asked.

“I want to taste that pussy,” he said and pulled your legs towards him.

“Ill take that mouth then,” Crosshair said taking his underwear off, cock springing upward in the process.

Your mouth watered at the sight of it. 

“Open up princess,” he said grabbing a fist full of your hair. You did as your told.

Meanwhile, Hunter was nice enough to carefully take your new panties off and toss them to the side instead of destroying them. He licked a long stripe up your folds.

“Kriff…” he moaned.

He began to eat your out quickly like a man starved. Instinctively, your hand went to his hair pulling him closer yet trying to push him away at the same time.

Crosshair must have not liked the lack of attention as he took your hair and pulled you towards him so you took more of his cock. 

Drool began to run down your chin.

“Fuck that’s a good girl,” Crosshair moaned.

He pulled you off his and gave you a deep breathtaking kiss.

Hunter lifted himself away from your pussy. You whined at the loss of contact.

“Gotta fuck that pussy now,” Hunter snarled, something primal in his eyes.

Crosshair knelt down next to you and he wrapped a hand around your throat.

Hunter grabbed his length and pushed into you in one smooth motion. He let out a loud wonton moan.

“How does she feel sarge?” Crosshair asked.

“Kriffing amazing,” he said, beginning to pound into you.

Hunter set a ruthless pace. Your tits were bouncing with every thrust.

“What do you say to your sergeant for fucking you so good?” Crosshair whispered in your ear.

“Thank you!” You cried out.

“Thank you what?” Crosshair asked.

“Thank you for fucking me so good sir!” You moaned.

Hunter let out a growl and began to pound into you even harder. He took his hand and began to rub your clit. Your orgasm was approaching fast.

“Fuck! I’m gonna…” you yelled out coming.

Your body shook from the after shocks of your orgasm.

“Good fuckin girl,” Crosshair whispered in your ear.

“Feel so good coming on my cock,” Hunter said.

Hunter pulled out and Crosshair flipped you on your stomach. He took Hunters spot behind you and pulled your hips up so you were on your hands and knees. 

Crosshair pushed into you and gripped your hips, picking up with the same pace as Hunter left off.

Hunter grabbed your hair and lifted your head up. He kissed your lips fiercely, his tongue exploring your mouth. He broke the kiss off then put his cock at your lips. You eagerly took his cock in your mouth and began to suck.

With each thrust of Crosshair, the deeper you took Hunter. 

“That’s it baby… take my fucking cock down your throat,” Hunter said fucking your mouth.

Crosshair took a finger and began to put a light pressure on your asshole. You jumped away at the feeling, never having done that before.

“I take it you’ve never done that. That’s okay,” Crosshair said, removing his finger and rubbing your ass.

“We will teach you, but not tonight” Hunter kissed you.

Hunter put your mouth back on his cock and Crosshair reached over to toy with your clit again.

Again, the coil inside you was threatening to snap. Your moans became higher pitched and you grabbed the sheets harder.

Hunter pulled you off of his cock and grabbed your throat, squeezing until your vision became dark on the ends.

“You wanna come on his cock?” Hunter asked.

You nodded frantically.

“I can’t hear you,” Crosshair said giving your ass another slap.

“Yes please! Yes I want to come on his cock please!” you moaned out.

“Aww such a pretty girl when she begs,” Crosshair said.

“Come then,” Hunter whispered.

And you did. You came hard, your whole body shaking and you lost your vision and hearing too.

You were gone for a minute. When you came back, Hunter was cleaning you off and Crosshair was stroking your hair.

“Hey doll, welcome back,” he said kissing your forehead.

“Holy shit,” you said.

“Holy shit is right,” Hunter said finishing cleaning you off.

Crosshair gave you a water which you happily took.

“I’m tired now,” you said sleepily.

“Can’t imagine why,” Crosshair said.

You got into bed laying in the middle, Crosshair and Hunter each took a side. Hunter turned a comedy holo on and held your hand. Crosshair stroked your hair.

You felt safe, warm, and probably the happiest you have felt in your whole life. 

Chapter Text

Mira

You woke up late to the sound of the ocean, birds, and the laughter of your squad. It instantly brought a smile to your face.

You got out of bed, slipped on a robe and slippers, and headed to the kitchen for caf. You noticed Vee finishing pouring a cup. Her hair was a mess, and she looked suspiciously happy.

You smirked. “Well, someone slept well,” you said, earning an eye-roll and a blush from Vee.

You were relieved that the heavy tension from the last mission had lifted and that she was back to her normal — or even happier — self again.

Tech sat at the table calibrating a scanner while sipping cold caf. You made your way over and sat beside him, resting your chin in your hands as you watched his concentration.

“Do you ever turn off?” you asked.

“Not unless powered down, which I prefer to avoid,” he said deadpan.

You laughed.

Vee joined Hunter and Crosshair, who were laughing together, while Wrecker rummaged through the fridge. Just then, an idea struck.

You stood on your chair. “Field trip. Market. We only got halfway through it yesterday. Mandatory fun!” you ordered.

Wrecker cheered, Crosshair groaned, and Tech sighed but packed up his datapad anyway. You smiled to yourself.

You picked out an orange sundress and sandals you’d bought yesterday and let your hair fall free around your shoulders. You were excited to act like a normal person again — not just a soldier.

The streets were crowded with colorful stalls, and music drifted through the air. Your energy skyrocketed as you took in all the possibilities. You darted ahead, sampling food and chatting with vendors.

Tech followed, analyzing market prices and logistics out loud.

You haggled for fruit, and Tech corrected your math. You stuck your tongue out at him, and he booped you on the nose playfully.

Hunter trailed behind the group, quietly protective. Crosshair smoked a cigarette, walking beside Vee as they made quiet conversation. Wrecker was busy chatting with every food vendor about their dishes.

You passed a handmade-goods stand and noticed a small carved bird figurine. You decided to buy it for your room on the Marauder — it was bare and could use something pretty. Your hands shook slightly; it had been years since you’d owned anything just because it was beautiful.

Tech noticed. “That is an unnecessary but aesthetically pleasing purchase,” he said.

You giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The two of you continued walking down the market street, an easy warmth settling between you.

Without a word, Tech picked up one of your shopping bags and carried it. You smiled to yourself at the gesture.

Back at the villa, most of the squad retreated to their rooms for naps. You and Tech lingered outside on the patio.

You studied seashells and showed them to Tech, who documented them for “comparative internal composition.”

“Do you ever stop studying everything?” you asked.

“Observation is how I make sense of the galaxy,” Tech answered.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Me too — only I observe people.”

Tech looked up, intrigued. “Then perhaps we complement each other,” he said with a soft smile.

You stared at him and realized your heart was beating faster.

“You flirt like you’re submitting a report,” you joked, trying to diffuse the intensity.

Tech blinked, considering it. “Then I shall endeavor to be less… procedural.”

You burst into laughter, nearly spilling your drink.

Later that night, you spotted Tech sitting alone on the shoreline, datapad glowing faintly in his hands as he sat facing the golden Naboo sunset.

You brought two cups of Naboo cider and sat beside him, close but not touching.

“What are you up to?” you asked, glancing at his datapad.

“Reviewing the information we gathered earlier today on the mineral deposits,” he said without looking up.

You didn’t reply, content with the comfortable silence between you — though it felt like something was missing.

“It’s weird, right? How quiet can feel wrong after so much noise,” you said, staring at the waves.

“I patch people up, send them back out… sometimes I don’t even know if they made it,” you admitted softly — a truth that had always weighed on you.

Tech listened intently and set his datapad aside. “Your care keeps us alive. It matters,” he said.

The sincerity in his voice hit hard.

“You’re ruining my reputation as comic relief,” you joked weakly.

Tech actually smiled. “I am rather fond of your humor. But your heart is the more essential component.”

You stared at him, stunned.

Fireflies flickered around you, and the tide lapped at your feet.

You fiddled with the rim of your cup. “You know, silence isn’t so bad when someone else fills it.”

“Silence can be safe… especially when shared,” Tech said quietly.

He reached for your hand, his gaze meeting yours. You leaned closer, testing, searching.

“Scientific curiosity?” you whispered.

“Empirical confirmation,” he replied — and kissed you.

His kiss was tentative, analytical almost, before melting into warmth.

You pulled back and smiled against his lips. “Hypothesis proven,” you murmured.

Tech chuckled softly — rare and genuine.

Wrecker’s booming voice echoed from the villa. “HEY, TECH! MIRA! YOU COMIN’ BACK OR WHAT?”

You both froze, and you hid your face in Tech’s shoulder, laughing.

“His timing is consistently catastrophic,” Tech muttered.

You both stood and brushed sand from your clothes.

You grinned. “Don’t worry, Professor. Your secret’s safe.”

“I calculate a zero-percent chance of that,” he said dryly, earning another laugh from you.

As you walked back under the moonlight, your hands brushed — and neither of you let go.

Chapter Text

Vee

You walked back to the villa after a long meditation session. The late-afternoon light painted the walls gold, and for the first time in a long while, your mind felt quiet. The visions had faded—ever since you’d stopped fearing them and started listening. Maybe they were never meant to frighten you… only to guide you.

Inside, the squad was scattered around the common area. Mira and Wrecker were locked in a hologame, shouting and laughing. Crosshair and Tech were playing darts. Hunter was in the kitchen, cleaning up. When your eyes met his across the room, something in your chest fluttered. You slipped away into your quarters. He followed.

“Oh, so we’ve reached the level of comfort where you don’t even bother knocking anymore?” you teased.

“After what I’ve done to you recently, no—I don’t think I need to,” Hunter said with a grin as he shut the door behind him.

You tried not to smile too wide. “Meditation was good. I actually feel like myself again.”

“I’m glad,” he said softly, sitting beside you on the bed. “We all needed some time off.”

“Going back to battle’s going to suck,” you sighed, leaning against his shoulder.

“Eh, we’ll get through it. And then we’ll look forward to the next shore leave,” he murmured, kissing your forehead.

The thought of leaving Naboo made your heart ache. You wanted to hold on to this peace, this quiet. Maybe that’s why you looked up at him then—why your lips found his.

It started tender, a slow brush of affection, but quickly deepened. You pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his waist.

“Eager, aren’t you, General?” Hunter teased, voice low.

“Shut up,” you whispered, kissing him harder.

His hands traced your back, your hips, every inch of skin that made you shiver. The tension between you coiled and snapped like a live wire. Shirts were tugged away. Breath mingled. All the walls you’d both built around yourselves crumbled in the heat of the moment.

This wasn’t like before. It wasn’t just need—it was surrender.

Hunter laid you back, hovering over you, eyes dark with want.

“Gonna taste every inch of you,” he promised. And he did.

His lips trailed down your neck, finding the spot that made your toes curl. His mouth replaced his hands on your breasts, tongue swirling over one nipple as his fingers rolled the other. You tugged his hair, and he groaned against your skin.

He moved lower—slow, deliberate—until he reached the place where you burned for him.

“Most beautiful goddess I’ve ever seen,” he breathed before his tongue met you, and you gasped, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

His fingers joined his mouth, slow at first, then deeper, curling just right. Each motion unraveled you.

“Hunter… feels so good,” you moaned, the words catching in your throat.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, voice rough.

You shattered, trembling beneath him as he worked you through it, coaxing every last wave until you went limp in bliss.

When your vision cleared, Hunter was smiling down at you.

“Want you,” you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss.

He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips before lining up and easing inside.

The moan you both let out was pure relief. He moved with a steady rhythm, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes never leaving your face.

This wasn’t just sex—it was connection. Raw, honest, terrifying in its intimacy.

“I love you,” you said without thinking.

Hunter froze, searching your eyes.

“I love you too, Veyra,” he whispered.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, emotion too big to contain. In that moment, it was as if the galaxy didn’t exist—only the two of you, hearts beating in sync.

“Come with me,” you begged as his thrusts faltered, both of you on the edge.

You fell together, the world dissolving into light and heat and love.

Later, after cleanup and laughter, you lay tangled in his arms.

“What are we?” you asked quietly.

He smirked. “Do we need to put a name on it?”

“Well, we did just say we love each other,” you giggled.

“Hmm… then I’d say we’re lovers,” he said, snuggling closer.

Lovers. The word felt dangerous—and perfect. But a pang of guilt stirred as you thought of the Jedi Code. Hunter noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “I just smell smoke. The others must’ve started the bonfire.”

You both dressed and stepped out into the night. The sky had turned indigo, stars just starting to appear. Down on the beach, flames flickered against the waves, and laughter carried on the breeze.

“Took you two long enough!” Wrecker called.

“Thought you were more of a two-pump chump,” Crosshair quipped.

Your face went crimson. Hunter just laughed, wrapping an arm around you and kissing the top of your head.

“You should know after last night I’m definitely not,” he fired back.

The group roared with laughter, Mira included.

“Damn, Vee!” Mira giggled, her cheeks pink.

Crosshair ducked inside the villa and came back out holding a small bag.

“Figured shore leave deserves a little… enhancement,” he said, flashing a grin.

Tech raised an eyebrow. “That is most certainly not Republic issue.”

Mira eyed the bag curiously as Wrecker volunteered first.

“Not going to be a problem, right?” Crosshair asked, looking to you and Hunter.

You both shook your heads.

He lit the joint and passed it around. When it reached Mira, she hesitated.

“I’ve never had this before,” she admitted.

“Aww, it’s fun!” Wrecker said.

“Just inhale like a cigarette,” Hunter explained.

Mira took a drag, coughed violently, and turned bright red.

“Medic down!” Crosshair cackled.

“Shut up!” she rasped between coughs, which only made everyone laugh harder.

Before long, you were all high, happy, and sprawled around the fire. Wrecker raided the kitchen for snacks, Tech and Crosshair swapped old war stories, and Hunter leaned back beside you—completely relaxed for once.

Mira had never seemed so carefree. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks, fitting into the group as if she’d always been there.

The fire burned low, waves whispering softly against the shore. Hunter traced lazy shapes on your back while Crosshair hummed tunelessly.

Mira and Tech sat shoulder to shoulder, giggling sleepily.

You looked around at your squad—your family—and warmth swelled in your chest.

For once, you felt at peace. You felt home

Chapter Text

Mira

You blink awake on the couch, a neatly folded blanket pulled up to your chin. The faint scent of machine oil and caf lingers in the air—Tech. Snack wrappers, a trail of sand, and a crooked stack of cups mark last night’s chaos.

Tech is asleep upright in a chair, datapad half-slid into his lap, goggles slightly askew. Even in disorder, he looks precise.

You tiptoe closer, slide the datapad safely onto the table, straighten his goggles, and drape a blanket over his shoulders. He murmurs your name in his sleep.

You freeze, smile softly, and whisper, “Go back to sleep.” He does.

In the kitchen, you start a pot of caf, humming a light tune. Your thoughts drift to last night—Crosshair’s wicked one-liners, Wrecker’s “emergency snack triage,” Tech trying (and failing) to give a cannabinoid chemistry lecture between bursts of laughter.

A light, pleasant ache from over-smiling lingers. You feel included.

Maybe I can learn to rest.

Footsteps pad across the tile. Vee enters, hair tousled and skin glowing.

“You look… meditated,” you tease.

She swats you with a dish towel, laughing just as Hunter slips behind her to steal a kiss on her temple. Crosshair saunters in, nicks toast from Hunter’s plate, murmuring, “Sharing is caring.”

Vee leans back against Hunter’s chest; Crosshair flicks a crumb from her shoulder.

Then Wrecker bursts in. “Is the cafeteria open? I require twelve eggs!”

You toss him a ration bar. He catches it one-handed, grins, then flexes. “Doc Sunshine—my hero.”

“Terrible form, big guy,” you deadpan. He laughs far too loud on purpose; you can’t help but smile.

Tech appears in the doorway, hair slightly mussed. You hand him a mug wordlessly. Your fingers brush—just enough to spark static. Both of you pretend not to notice.

After everyone dresses, Hunter decides a training session will “sweat out the weed.”

Vee looks at you. “Training or beach?”

“Beach,” you answer instantly.

Tech, half-asleep, notices the towel slung over your shoulder. Hunter smirks. “We’ll manage without you, Tech.”

“I must recalibrate the…” He glances at you. “…several devices,” he finishes.

“Have fun calibrating!” Wrecker calls, winking.

Crosshair leans toward Hunter. “Odds he calibrates his courage by sunset?” Hunter snorts.

Vee loops her arm through yours. “Come on. Sunshine first, guilt second.”

The sand is warm beneath your feet as you and Vee spread towels and kick off sandals. After ensuring both of you are properly sunscreened, you lie back, finally exhaling.

“I’m terrible at doing nothing,” you admit.

“That’s advanced Jedi curriculum they never taught,” Vee replies.

You giggle, then notice her expression turn pensive.

“The Code still tugs at me,” she says quietly. “I love Hunter, and I think I’m starting to have feelings for Crosshair. It feels right—but I was taught it’s wrong. Every day, I care less.”

“Choosing joy under fire is medicine,” you say.

You tell her how the med-corps was a treadmill—always proving worth, always on call, never enough.

“So, we both need remedial fun?” she jokes.

“I prescribe two hours of sun and one pastry apiece.”

In the distance, Hunter and Crosshair spar in the shallows. Vee watches them with a soft smile.

“Also,” she says suddenly, “you blush when Tech says adjustment.”

You choke on your water, shaking your head. She laughs.

“Pinky promise not to self-sabotage happiness,” she says, holding out her finger. You link yours.

The waves hush you both toward a nap. A dragonfly lands on your towel, then zips away. You chuckle—an omen of change.

When training ends, everyone regroups.

Tech quietly sets a canteen beside your chair. You thank him with a too-bright smile.

“Mira, check this—personal best on the carry!” Wrecker announces, hoisting a decorative planter.

“Put the shrub down,” you order, smirking.

You poke his bicep. “Hypertrophy noted.”

“You can examine me anytime,” he teases.

Across the room, Crosshair mutters to Vee, “Tech’s about to combust.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Vee replies.

Hunter appears with a cold drink for Vee; Crosshair drapes a towel over her shoulders. Their balance radiates home. You want that steadiness.

As the sun fades, everyone gathers on the balcony for supper. Wrecker piles his plate high; Crosshair pretends disdain before stealing a bite.

Hunter leans shoulder-to-shoulder with Vee. Crosshair’s hand rests on the back of her chair; under the table, she squeezes both their fingers.

Old missions are retold with gentler endings. Laughter fills the air.

Tech points out early stars above the horizon. You ask questions you already know the answers to, just to hear him explain.

Wrecker unveils a hidden pastry stash. You laugh. “Remedial fun: complete.”

Crosshair lifts his glass. “To peace while it lasts.”

Hunter echoes. Vee kisses the rim of her cup. The wish swells warm in your chest.

When dishes are cleared, everyone drifts indoors—except Tech, who stays behind with two mugs of caf. He offers one to you.

You accept.

The shoreline is quiet, moonlight silvering the waves. Your footsteps fall in sync.

“I’ve correlated new variables,” Tech begins.

You arch a brow.

“I mean… feelings I can’t quantify,” he corrects softly.

“You don’t have to quantify me,” you whisper. “Just be here.”

You offer your hand. He studies it as if it were a star chart, then laces his fingers with yours.

The two of you pause at the waterline, moonlight tracing his profile. You rest your head against his shoulder; he leans into your hair. A knowing glance passes between you

The two of you turn toward towards the villa and begin to walk back. When you get to your door, Tech looks at you hesitating. You nod once and pull him inside your room.

You lit the small lamp on the nightstand giving an amber glow to the edges of his profile. He looked both brilliant and breakable. 

He steps closer to you and his hands hover at your waist until you guide them, your heartbeat stuttering under his fingertips.

He leans down an kisses you. It’s careful and exploratory at first. Then he deepens it. The room gets smaller and its just you two.

Tech pulled away “Mira…” he whispered.

You pull him over to the bed with you as the two of you begin shedding layers slowly and carefully, taking your time.

You trace the line of his shoulders and he follow the curve of your back.

He lays on top of you, placing his forehead to yours and kissing you again. He makes his way down your neck.

You moan out his name and scratch his shoulder blades.

His hand slide down to your core and he moves his fingers between your slit gathering your wetness. Then he pushes one finger inside earning a loud moan from you. 

He continues to assault your neck with kisses as he adds a second finger.

“Fuck Tech,” you moan.

“So tight my darling,” he says.

You reach down and grab his length. It was a pretty good size. A little on the longer side, not too girthy. 

“Want you inside Tech,” you whisper to him.

He didn’t hesitate anymore. He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in, stretching you out in a wonderful way.

He bottoms out, nearly touching your cervix.

“Mira… baby…” Tech moans.

“Move please,” you moan wanting more. 

He does, rolling his hips up into you.

He bends his head down and begins to lick and suck your nipples turning them into hard peaks.

“So beautiful,” he whispers in your ear.

“You are too,” you say nails digging into his shoulders blades. 

Slowly you felt the heat beginning to start, promising a sweet release.

“Please, please don’t stop,” you beg.

“Never,” Tech promised.

You tip over the edge with a loud moan and cry falling into pure bliss.

Tech was after you, letting out a moan that was heavenly.

The two of you lay like that in silence for a while, not wanting to move, just enjoying each others presence. 

Eventually, Tech got up, and helps you to the shower. When you return he has fresh sheets, water, and a dessert waiting for you.

You climb into bed with a smile on your face. 

“I don’t want to go back to war tomorrow,” you say into his chest.

“I know my dear, but we will be okay. We are together now,” he says kissing your forehead. 

You fall asleep quickly after that, in peace and happiness.