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mondaymelon · 7 months

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— " 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧... "

art by @/kodokunoakashi on twitter, edited by me !! angst. an eensey weensey redemption at the end

xiao, zhongli, wanderer, neuvillette x gn!reader

[ centuries after their lover’s passing, they finally are able to rest in your ghostly touch. ₊˚ෆ ]

Perhaps the day he had found your lifeless body, eyes long fluttered closed and splatters of red decorating your throat was the day Xiao began falling apart.

He knew it from the start, that your death would be inevitable. You weren’t like him - a weary soul who had traversed these lands for thousands of years in search of a refuge that Teyvat had never provided for him. No, you were like the evening’s first star, brilliantly shining and setting the entire night sky ablaze. A warm glow that sparked flames wherever its light reached. He was one of many fortunate enough to be caught in your spiraling trap, those cursedly charming grins and a laugh with the innocence of a child. Your sweet warmth was addicting, and once he had a taste, he couldn’t get enough of it. Was that why the adeptus found himself leaving his corner of the inn more and more often, just to trail by your side? Maybe this was the reason he had found himself expressing something on his lips that he had never before?

Fragments split your face in his memory. Years, decades, centuries had passed. To the outside eye, all that could be observed was that the yaksha was particularly more elusive than before, only having briefly appeared once or twice before mortals. With ignorant and foggy minds, they’d declare that the Conqueror of Demons must feel despair over the sudden death of Rex Lapis, and they’d just leave it like that. An open question hanging in the air with no answer to pair it with.

Xiao didn’t know if he still had tears left to weep.

His brethren that he had lost so many years ago had robbed them with their passing, and they were nothing left but an empty remnant of once had remained. A shapeless echo… yes, perhaps that was what he was now. All that knew him were certain that your passing had stolen a part of him that would never recover. The fragments of emotion that you had left with him had only dissipated with time, and he despised himself for it. Shards that danced in his vision as he hefted his spear, whirling it with precision and slaughtering all in its path. They had dared lay hands on you. They had taken whatever resolve he had left. Now, he was but a shell, hollow without your embrace.

It’s cold.

Sometimes, he heard your laugh on the wind, and he’d whip around, expecting to see you there, but only to be met with the terrible, terrible silence, and all the adeptus could do was laugh bitterly. Crystalline drops of tears would threaten to roll past the barriers of his carefully crafted facade, and he’d curse at himself, grasping at his chest with heavy breaths and blown eyes.

He didn’t deserve to cry. No, not after he had failed to protect you. Guilt, self-loathing, karma, all of it… it bound him down with red tendrils that burned against his skin. Pain bloomed throughout his body, a brilliant crimson that stained his clothing, an anguish that he ardently welcomed. His vision dimmed, and his honey eyes which had long since lost their light slowly shut, embracing the darkness that reached for him.

Darkness, so how come when he opened his drowsy lids, all he saw was light?

“Xiao?”

A familiar voice, one that had blurred with time, yet now rang clearly in his senses. Those excitement-filled eyes, that mischievous curve on your lips, and the warmth of your fingers with his. The grass prickled at his back, and the scent of blooming wildflowers filled the air with its spring sweetness.

A smile tugged at his lips. His sorrow spilled from his eyes. He almost could’ve laughed at your concerned gaze, and with a bandaged heart he pulled you closer in his arms. His wounded voice was barely a whisper. “Thank you… for waiting for me all this time, love.”

He still remembers it. It’s a sight that’s been burned into his eyes. The way his composed expression had collapsed, how his disgraced self had fallen to his raw knees. Zhongli had held you then, feeling the precious warmth leave your body, listening to the thrum of your heart slowly ebbing away.

He had been seconds too late to hear what you had spoken in that moment, and only saw the wordless utter on your moving lips, the raspy, labored breaths, until they ceased to nothing but silence. How could something void of sound be so unequivocally loud? The silence rings in his ears, like a horrible testament of his broken contract. That bright moment the two of you had shared seemed centuries ago, an abstract painting of something that couldn’t have possibly occurred. With a beaming face, you had held his larger, gloved hand with two of your smaller ones, grinning at his touch.

“Let’s always be together, okay? No one can keep us apart!” You laughed to yourself at how red the man had grown at your words, and then stared fondly at the silver band he had placed on your finger a day prior, when he had kissed your hands and uttered his words of confession. Red dusted your cheeks at the thought, and to the wide-eyed man, you looked simply ethereal, with the way your lashes fluttered with every blink and the way your cheeks were warm with a smile.

“Yes.” Zhongli had been starstruck by you, so utterly breathless at how speechless a mere mortal could make him. It was astounding, how your smile seemed to steal his words away. He wanted to do nothing but to freeze those seconds, to place them in a glass and cherish them and relive them in a loop that lasted eternity.

Oh, what’d he do to see the way your lips curved upwards into a cheeky grin that you’d display just for him, the snarky comments leaving your mouth, and the way you laughed at his subtle reactions.

It’s only been two hundred years. Should he say “already?” Time passes slow, then fast, fluctuating without any thought of the man in mind. At times, when the clock strikes midnight and moonlight spills into the courtyard like liquid silver, the seconds slow into minutes and the minutes slow into hours, and he’ll gaze out onto the grassy fields where the two of you used to stroll hand-in-hand, and he’ll allow himself a moment of reminiscence. In other times, the world speeds up around him, and the incompetent man is unable to keep up. Your funeral was one of those times. How could he simply walk away from your framed portrait and declare, “that’s that?” Liyue had suffered a terrible loss, yet only he seemed to register that. How come?

Some days, he’ll talk to himself, as if you’re beside him. His words meet empty air and he smiles vacantly, holding a hand that isn’t there and kissing the lips of someone who is long gone. Your shadow is everywhere. He can’t escape it, but that’s okay. He doesn’t want to. Zhongli allows those remnants of you to linger and dance in the wind with the reddening leaves. By the bridge, excitedly petting the stray dogs, calling each and every one of them the name that you’ve bestowed upon them. A sight Ganyu would have loved to see. Or in the branches of a particular tree, laughing down at him with a giggle like birdsong, taunting words. “Would you look at that? Up here, I’m even taller than you, Zhongli!”

And every time he hears your transparent, faded voice, he can’t help but smile, despite how hopeless he feels. You’re gone, and that’s the truth, so where’s the harm in bathing in your afterimage just a moment longer?

He knows it isn’t you. It can’t ever come close. As centuries blur and whirl past, and he finds himself departing to the more secluded spaces of Liyue’s wilderness, he decides it’s time. His nation no longer needs him. The reason he had for living is gone, and the heart that had once been so lively has dulled.

Would it be too foolish to hope that when he opens his eyes, you’ll be there, waiting for him?

“Xiansheng? Come on, come on sleepyhead, wake up already!” Pause. “Oh, will this do the trick?”

And then there’s warmth on his cheek, the feeling of your lips against his skin, and he feels alive, for the first time in those archon-forsaken years. He knows what he’ll see, when he opens his gilded eyes that are shimmering with dew. “Yes, love. I’m here.”

Betrayal. Those sickening words you had spoken to him, sweet beyond belief… Wanderer hissed through his teeth, holding his hands over his ears as his tears fell to the earth and soaked into the dark earth.

Yes, at that time he should’ve known. The truth you spoke to him was simply too good to be true - a fantasy that could never be attained. Yet he had been swayed by your smile and fell for your warmth, and since then had been willingly trapped in a void that was you, with no intention of escaping. It amazed him, almost, how he can smile in this moment, albeit however sour it is. What more proof did he need? To be unable to stay somber in the moments of your passing, did that not just prove how flawed he was? How undeserving?

He detested it. No wonder why you had left this world. It was a pain to even be by his side. Words without “love” and a chest that did not thrum with flusteredness could never convince you to stay beside him. Once again, someone he yearns for has cleverly slipped through his fingers. From the beginning, he was a sinner. A worthless puppet incapable of feeling a shred of what you held for him.

Red dripped from his fingers as they clawed at the earth, as he bends into himself with ugly wails. Could you see him now, wherever you were? Tears flowed freely from his eyes, not heeding his mutters for all of it to cease. He wanted it to end, all of it, the suffering that he felt and the emptiness he could never fully elude. The fatui, his mother, they’d all laugh at him with pointed fingers if they saw him now, wouldn’t they? His flushed cheeks are stained with salt and his throat was raw from his shouts. The blood pooling around your body has already cooled, and your fingers that were intertwined with his had already grown cold to the touch.

“Woah, Wanderer, your skin is really cold! Aren’t you hot at all? It’s summer!” You had stared at him with a childlike fascination, holding his hand in yours, poking it for extra effect, only growing more astonished.

“It’s nothing to be impressed over.” He cleared his throat into his fist, yet did not let go of your hold. “If anything…” At the time, his words had not completed themselves, yet his gaze had trailed to your own hands, and he had kissed the back of them with a cheeky half-smile. I like yours. They’re warm. There had been an inkling of naive hope, that your life could fill the void in his, and perhaps that was what allowed his plastic expression towards you to grow into true ones.

“H-Hey, c’mon…” His voice broke, unsteady like the legs of a newborn fawn. He took your blood-stained hand and pressed it to his cheek, only further wetting it with his tears. “This isn’t funny, you know, you can… you can stop now…”

Look how broken he’s become, stooping as low as to speak to a corpse.

That was only a decade ago. Every morning, the ache of its recollection brings a fresh dose of misery. Every evening he lulls himself to sleep by repeating the words you once said, imagining the stroke of your hands tangled in his hair, imagining your sunbeam-like smile as you gazed down at him fondly.

Really, what’s the point of living with you gone? Could he really call it “life?”

Those questions still remain sharp in his mind as he sputters out a cough, glancing down at the blade in his shattered chest, positioned right where his heart should have been. Cold, unforgiving steel, driving down and tearing apart. Wanderer blinks up at the cursed heavens above and heaves out blood that leaves a lingering red on his lips, and he can’t bring himself to cry anymore. He spits out a final damnation at Celestia before slipping away, eyes closing as he finally-

“Wanderer? Where’s your hat? You aren’t wearing it today?”

Your voice. It breathes life into his empty soul. Warmth. He wants to hold it, hold you, ever closer like he never had the courage to. His violet eyes spring open as he sits up with a start, his disheveled garments flinging about. “Y-You-!”

“What’s with you today? You’re acting strange, silly. Did you eat something you shouldn’t have?” You grin stupidly, an idiocy he finds all so lovable. The twinkle in your eye - you’re alive. You’re breathing and you’re existing before him. A final grace that he can’t thank whatever for enough.

There’s the sound of wind, and then you find yourself tightly wrapped in his embrace, your shoulder stained with his tears that spill despite how much he doesn’t want to show you this weakness. He buries his face into you, and you can feel the ghost of a smile against your skin. “I’ve missed you. So, so much. Please, please, don’t leave me again.”

Lifeless, your body lay, along the shores and lapped by waves stained crimson. That day, Fontaine realized what it was like to truly rain, not a few drops, or even spring showers. Water fell endlessly from the skies, a downpour that may never end, an all-swallowing sea from the heavens that swallowed all unfortunate enough to be caught in its path. Irony clouded the skies, and Neuvillette found himself broken into pieces he didn’t know how to put back together.

His efforts to understand the human population were in vain. A complete, utter failure. How could he possibly judge, knowing the world despised him? Knowing that the scales were upturned and that nothing could ever be just? Your death, it was unfair. Unfair to the world and unfair to he who held you ever so dear. But what else could he do but continue his oversight? Quitting his position wouldn’t bring you back. Nothing would. He could hear your cheery voice in his ear, and the hint of a pout, a chiding tone. “Neuvi, you can’t quit! Let’s all try our best, okay?”

The days where you were by his side were the happiest. Fontaine had become akin to Sumeru’s desert, the sun blazing overhead and the moon shining brightly at night. Yet, how come the people of Fontaine had seemed upset at the skies for his contentment? They begged for rain, begged for their dying crops, to the point where you were forced to distance yourself from the man for days at a time, just the unrelentless sun would cloud over and perhaps a drop or two of rain would be squeezed from the heavens.

If he had known you would leave so soon, he would have never permitted you to depart from his side. If he had known you would pass this world and traverse to the next, he would have held you with every ounce of his soul, he would have declared his love for you over and over, he would have placed the ring he had been saving in his pocket, the one he slipped on his finger whenever he was at a particularly difficult trial.

So many “what if’s.” None of them would materialize. Once again, his efforts would fall short. Once again, he’d lose someone.

The tea was hot. It burned his tongue, yet he couldn’t feel a thing. You, the clearest of springs and purest of waters, had set his own sea into a never-ending storm. Lightning struck and its own surface churned choppily with enough rage to devour a nation. The second tea cup that was on the other side of his office desk remained untouched, the contents slowly cooling into nothingness. A something that could never be.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry~” He could hear it when he shut his eyes for what he hoped to be the final time, your voice from the mist that shrouded his mind, and he wanted nothing more than to embrace the owner of it. How could he possibly heed your words, when he felt his tears slip past his eyes, flowing as unperturbed as a river? Your back is facing him, but you know he’s there. You glance back with a fond beam, extending your arms outwards. An invitation. One that he’d readily take, any time, every time.

He would never enable you to slip from his grasp again. He allows you to engulf him in your arms, he allows you to stroke your thumb on his face and wipe away his salty tears, he allows you to brush his hair behind his ear and press butterfly kisses into his closed eyelids. Your warmth floods his body, and with a smile he takes the ring he’s saved for you out of his pocket, and fulfills his regrets as he slips it onto your finger, a final tear rolling down his cheek. “There’ll be no more reason to cry, not anymore.”

(a/n) this further proved to me that writing angst is so fucking mind destroying but at the same time provides this sort of quiet sorrow that you aren't able to attain anywhere else and for some twisted reason this is literally one of my favorite things ive like. ever written. holy shiiiii

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife

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chronosdawn · 4 months

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Zhongli x GN!Reader, Soulmate AU Part 2

Link to Part 1

Word count: ~2.5k

He was waiting for you at the Stone Gate.

You hadn't known it was him at first, having taken to pointedly ignoring the sensations crawling up your arm from your soulmate mark once the phantom hand tugging you back to the harbor had turned clawed when you refused to listen to it.

Of course you could hardly be blamed for overlooking a lone tall man standing just at the edge of the border, his back to you as he looked out over Mondstadt's grassy plains. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him at first glance, save perhaps for his height and fine clothes. The way he stood—perfectly still with his hands clasped behind his back—made him seem more like part of the landscape than a living thing. It was only when you got close to him, just barely out of arm's reach as you made to walk past and he turned to face you, amber eyes meeting yours, that you realized who he was.

Your legs refused to move as though they'd been turned to stone, torn between hurtling back the way you'd come—as though attempting to run from a god a second time might somehow prove more successful—and throwing yourself the last precious distance between you and the border, like the invisible line of it would somehow protect you from whatever was to come.

Before you could commit to either however, your soulmate spoke.

"I apologize if the suddenness of our connection startled you, but it is very good to meet you at last." His voice was rich and smoother somehow than it had been during the rite, his expression one you could only describe as soft as he looked at you.

You'd thought gazing into the face of the dragon-qilin version of Rex Lapis was bad—somehow this was worse.

Words failed you as you stared at him. What were you even supposed to say? Your head felt like a hornets nest, thoughts flicking from excuses to questions to apologies until it turned into a garbled mess that made your temples throb.

"I don't…" you stammered out before petering off. Your chest felt funny, like it was trying to cave in on itself.

Rex Lapis looked you over from head to toe and whatever he saw caused his lips to press together slightly.

"You must be tired after the long journey here from the harbor. Come, you should rest for a moment." He moved to your side, a hand resting gently against the small of your back as he steered you away from the boundary of the nation of freedom and towards what appeared to be a modest tea stand nestled against the stone of one of the large cliffs making up the gate. You tried to protest, you really did, but your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, your skin prickling from how close you were to a literal god. Before you knew where you were, you'd been ushered to a table in the cornerーthe Archon only leaving your side to pull your chair out for you and then take the seat opposite.

The elderly man running the stand came over and Rex Lapis ordered for the pair of you while you watched mutely, noting that he’d seated you in a corner, placing himself between you and any route of escape. Your hands shook faintly where they rested against the chipped wood of the table.

Silence descended as the old man left to brew your tea, interrupted only by the faint howl of the wind against the cliffs. You fought not to fidget in the face of such blatant awkwardness, turning your attention instead to the other patrons scattered nearby. The young woman closest to you was dressed in a signature Adventurer’s Guild uniform, likely on her way to a commission judging by the heavy backpack rammed with supplies at her feet. Sitting a little further away were a couple with obviously graying hair, twin soulmate marks visible on their joined hands as they quietly enjoyed the view. A lump formed in your throat at the sight.

“You hail from Snezhnaya.” Your gaze snapped back at the sound of Rex Lapis’s voice. It wasn’t a question, but the tone left the statement open-ended, an offering of idle conversation in place of the one you should be having but obviously weren’t ready for.

Nodding, you mustered your courage and said quietly, “I came to Liyue three months ago.”

“May I ask what brought you here? It’s rather a long way to travel.”

“My grandmother. She… She was from Liyue, she used to tell me stories about the harbor and the er— the Adepti growing up. After she passed, I decided I wanted to see it for myself.” You stammerred your way through your explanation, all too aware that it was only a half truth—the rest being the obviously Liyuean symbols swirled into the soulmate mark inked starkly upon your skin.

“I am very sorry to hear of your loss," he said with a sincerity that put all the others you'd had this particular line of conversation with to shame. "Has it been all you expected, your time in Liyue?”

"That's…" You trailed off, dropping your gaze to the table. How were you supposed to comment on a nation when the god who'd presided over it for thousands of years was sitting right across from you?

Obviously picking up on your inner turmoil, Rex Lapis spoke again, "There's no need to be anxious, I would not ask if I did not want to hear an honest answer. Though I have played a part in shaping Liyue into what it is today, it is but one of the seven nations and I would not expect it to appeal to all."

Your drinks appeared just after he finished, providing a short but welcome reprieve as a warm cup was pressed into your hands. You inhaled deeply, the rich scent of expertly brewed green tea filling your nose as you did so. It was not until the old man had left that you gave your answer.

“It’s… prettier than I’d thought it would be. My grandmother always said the harbor was beautiful but it’s been another thing to see it in person.”

You glanced up quickly, meeting amber eyes through the faint trickle of steam rising from the cup in his hands. The Archon poised to take a sip, waiting for you to continue.

“Fitting in has been harder than I’d thought it would be. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, moving so far away from home, but I thought I’d done enough research that I’d be ready for it. I guess there’s nothing you can do to really prepare yourself for living somewhere completely new though.”

“Indeed, it’s true such adjustments can take time. Has it grown easier over the months you’ve been here at least?”

Not really, you thought. You’d been hoping that something would click upon meeting your soulmate, that you’d feel like you’d finally found your place in the world. Instead you now felt like you wanted to be anywhere but the land of contracts and stone.

It was that thought and the warmth seeping into your fingers that finally gave you the courage to stop dancing around the issue at hand. You shifted in your seat, straightening your back and lowering your shoulders so you looked at least a little more sure of yourself than you felt.

“Look, I think… I think there must have been some sort of mistake.”

Rex Lapis returned his cup to the table, the cor lapis gem on the back of his glove gleaming in the evening light.

“Mistake?”

“Yes, this—” you gestured between the two of you “—this can’t be right. I mean you’re a god and I’m just some human from a small village in Scheznaya—I don’t even have a vision. I don’t know that much about soulmate marks honestly,” you instinctively placed your hand over your left forearm, missing the way your conversation partner’s eyes zeroed in on the gesture, “but this has to be a false alarm or something.”

Rex Lapis’s expression remained neutral as he let out a deep exhale—it wasn’t quite a sigh but reminded you of the controlled breath someone might take before they had to explain something to a child.

“Over the many years I have watched over Liyue, I have been witness to numerous soulmate connections. While the reason behind a pairing is not always immediately obvious, not once have I observed a soulmark responding to anyone but the person’s intended. It’s true that differences in personal status between soulmates can act as a source of friction, though that is usually between families rather than the individuals themselves, something that will not prove to be an issue in our case.” He paused to take a sip of his tea, his movements measured and steady, a stark contrast to your white-knuckled grip on your own cup.

You were painfully aware of the sun slipping lower in the sky, the cliffs slowly being stained amber in the fading late. You’d hoped to be safely in Mondstadt before nightfall.

“And though it is not common knowledge,” Rex Lapis continued, returning his cup to the table, “ours is not the first case of an archon having a human for a soulmate.” Though the words were perhaps meant to serve as some sort of reassurance, his voice held a somewhat wistful tone, as though lost in a memory from long ago..

“I just—” you sucked in a breath, the words ‘never wanted something like this’ caught in the back of your throat. It was true, of course, you didn’t want the pressure of being soulmates with Liyue’s exalted archon; of being the supposed other half of a being you likely would never be able to truly understand, let alone measure up to. It felt unfair, however, to throw that in his face. There were tales up north of various ways the story could play out when one soulmate rejected the other, none of which ended well.

And it wasn’t as though he’d actually done anything to deserve your rejection either—you wanted to cast your connection aside because of what he was rather than anything he’d actually done. You weren’t sure you were really capable of that kind of cruelty, no matter how badly you might wish to vanish with the setting sun.

“This wasn’t what I expected,” you said finally, after a long period of uncomfortable quiet.

“And that is not something anyone would fault you for.” If Rex Lapis was upset by your lack of enthusiasm for the bond that existed between you, he made no show of it. “I doubt many who were not intimately familiar with the gods would dare to even dream of the possibility. I hope however,” he continued, his gaze falling to the mark hidden away underneath your sleeve, “that with time it will become easier to accept.”

You swallowed uncomfortably. It wasn’t the words themselves that made something in your guts twist—if anything you should probably be grateful that a deity referred to in some stories as the Warrior God was granting you so much grace—but there was a certainty in his voice as he said them that didn’t sit well with you.

Rex Lapis lifted his eyes from where your arms rested on the table, looking up at the slowly darkening sky. Taking a final sip of his tea he said, “It’s rather late for the return journey to the harbor, but there is an inn on the way that I believe we should be able to reach before nightfall.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean we?” you asked in a small voice, casting a furtive glance towards the path to Mondstadt.

“Ah.” For the first time since you’d met the Archon, the slightest crack appeared in his composure, a minute shift in expression that you’d almost call bashful. The look was gone as quickly as it had appeared and you found yourself meeting the deep amber of his eyes. “Please forgive my forwardness but I’m afraid it would be remiss of me to allow you to be exposed to the dangers that come with traveling alone at night, especially with… so few preparations.” A polite way of remarking on the fact you’d basically legged it with no supplies to your name.

“That’s…” You trail off, no good defense coming to mind as to why you should continue your journey alone with only the clothes on your back and scarcely a pocketful of mora.

As if sensing your desperate fumble for an excuse to not go with him, he continued, “If your business in Mondstadt is urgent then I will escort you come morning, once you have had adequate rest. Otherwise, perhaps it may be best to return after you’ve had a chance to recover from the shock of recent events. It has been some time since I last had reason to visit but I would be more than happy to share the sights with you after ensuring matters will run smoothly in Liyue for the course of my absence.”

“I—” The sun was only half visible at the horizon now and as it sank further you felt your hopes of slipping away go with it. “I barely have any mora on me, I’m not sure I can afford a night at an inn.”

“That will not be an issue, I am more than willing and able to cover any of your expenses. Speaking of which,” Rex Lapis placed a large pile of mora on the table and you felt your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull at the amount—it had to be many, many times however much your tea had actually cost. You were suddenly struck with the utter stupidity of trying to use a lack of mora as an excuse to the very being who was responsible for creating it. That and the fact you were completely out of ideas on how to get out of this situation short of simply making a run for it—a tactic which had failed to provide much success thus far.

“If you are feeling up to it, we should begin our journey to the inn now before it gets much darker.” He stood and rounded the table, extending a gloved hand out to you.

You were backed into a corner in every way that mattered, the stone of the cliffs at your back as unyielding as you suspected the god of this land was. With nowhere else left to go, you place your hand in his, the leather of his gloves cool against your skin as his fingers curl around your own. You could only hope you wouldn’t regret not trying to run when you had the chance.

Taglist: @tanspostsblog, @esthelily, @alice4wonderland2812, @kalinka9999999999, @lacunaanonymoused

A/N: I have no excuses for how long this took me but here we finally are OTL. I make no promises as to whether or not there will be a part 3 but I am trying to get into the habit of writing more regularly again so I hope to at least start posting more stuff on this blog.

#Zhongli x reader #Genshin Impact x reader #soulmate AU #genshin x reader #Rex Lapis x reader #I don't think this needs any warnings?#but please let me know if you think I should add them!#in case you've reached the end of this and are wondering why Zhongli has mora #it's because he's not stepped down as Rex Lapis yet #Thank you for reading!

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aestariiwilderness · 1 month

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Bad Batch Season 3 Episode 15 Spoilers

Finale-Inspired Scenario

I know it was very touching and all with Hunter's "if you need us [Omega], we'll be there". I was Touched™. But all I could think of then was this scenario: Omega: mysterious badass pilot in the Rebellion from any outsider POV. Strange mildly Force-sensitive, very young woman with very extensive, if unorthodox military experience. Animals follow her around. May or may not be a pirate. Has devoted mildly Force-sensitive friends who appear to consider her their leader. Has very odd contacts in very odd places. Weirdly naive about a lot of things (dirt continues to fascinate her) but terrifyingly experienced with others (cloning, mind-wiping, sentient experimentation, etc.). Can fix anything. Has a weird grudge against Saw Gerrera (but who doesn't?). Escape artist who overflows with compassion at the MOST INCONVENIENT times but will also absolutely stab a bitch with no compunction and watch him fall to his death riddled with blaster holes. Never speaks of her origins, history, or family. The famous Captain Rex knows her personally. Senator Chuchi hugs her. Captain Hera Syndulla has apparently known her since childhood. Other pilots and members of the Rebellion are fascinated by this mystery. They place bets on her past -- former Jedi Padawan is currently leading the pool, with "amnesiac formerly brainwashed Imperial child soldier or Emperor's Hand" trailing not far behind. And then. Oh no! Mysterious badass pilot Omega is in a bind. Trapped somewhere behind enemy lines. The Rebellion is collectively in despair, dithering about whether they can spare a "suicide mission" to get her. And then. Multiple (three or four, depending on whether Echo retired to Pabu :D) oddly similar geriatric hippies with scars, facial tattoos, and a tamed lurca hound apparate into their council room. One of them has a toothpick. He has no teeth left, but he is somehow still chewing it disdainfully. Another has one eye and appears to be 1. made of durasteel and 2. has a hard time fitting in the council room. The shortest one has a Ponytail with a capital P, seems to be cosplaying as Moses, and refuses to listen to anyone. They have an incomprehensible system of numbered plans that correspond to no military system anyone has ever seen. They spend 70 percent of the twenty minutes they are on base arguing with each other and ignoring absolutely everyone else. Rex gets a pat on the shoulder. A middle-aged pirate is their getaway driver. The hound will not stop chewing Important Wires. No one has any idea what they want. People only start to get a clue when they yeet themselves at the planet Omega is trapped on and disappear as quickly as they came. There are multiple explosions, screaming, and what sounds suspiciously like a fusion generator overloading catastrophically over an open comm before it is abruptly cut off. The Rebellion gives them up for dead even though Rex, Syndulla, and Chuchi seem oddly unconcerned. Cut to three weeks of radio silence later. There is an unauthorized landing. The code is very old, the signature masked, and it blasts through their security measures like it doesn't exist. A very beat-up ship trailing smoke and parts coasts in to the hangar bay over the protests of the landing crews. Geriatric Hippies Numbers 2 and 3 spill out in a flood of more smoke, completely untouched and looking mildly irritated instead of suffocated. 3 has two stumps and no hands now. He does not appear concerned about this. Somehow, he is still gumming the toothpick. The getaway pilot/pirate is yammering on about where she can (steal?? borrow? liberate?? what?) some upper class robotic hands for him. Geriatric Hippie Moses emerges next. The lurca hound beside him is trailing what looks suspiciously like stormtrooper armor from the corner of her jaws. Badass Pilot Omega, none the worse for wear, is thrown over Hippie Moses' shoulders fireman-carry style, complaining loudly and vociferously that she is NOT A KID and does NOT NEED TO BE CARRIED and YOU KNOW HOW YOUR BACK GETS, HUNTER, PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW --

Omega is summarily deposited in front of Rex with several squinty, semi-threatening looks that he cheerfully ignores. They leave -- without bothering to repair their ship, it is absolutely still on fire -- with a lot of meaningful silences, back-slapping, hair fussing, armor-tightening, you-forgot-this and did-you-take-your-kit and do-you-have-the-grenades-I-made-you and are-you-drinking-enough and don't-forget-to-comm-home.

A brave technician who had nothing to do with any of this dares to inquire about the injuries, the second missing hand, and the, uh, wreck they're driving. They are summarily sneered at, called a "reg" in the most scathing tones possible, threatened with dire death should Omega come to any harm, and left standing on the landing pad.

Rex is pinching the bridge of his nose and doing Lamaze breathing. Syndulla is trying not to laugh. Chuchi just looks fond; Omega just looks sheepish.

The entire Rebellion: ....what was that

Omega, sighing deeply: ...my younger brothers

The ghost of Rampart in the background: I HATE CLONES Bonus points if Jedi Knight "Kanan Jarrus" aka Caleb Dume happens to be strolling past the hangar bay just in time to see Geriatric Hippie #3 ("Toothpicked, Toothless, and Handless") and Geriatric Hippie #1 ("Skullface Moses"), screams piercingly, and Force-levitates himself to the base roof. It takes both Hera and Ahsoka to get him down three hours later

#star wars #bad batch season 3 #the bad batch #funny #tbb season 3 spoilers #bad batch season 3 spoilers #spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #captain rex #the rebellion #tbb phee #phee genoa #mywildernesspost

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teenidlegirl · 3 months

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ 𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘. ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ❀ ˚◞ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 : 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 fem!civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ you visit the spider society and never realized how many spider-people exists. you meet various people and make new spidey friends. besides making new friends, you also learn something about miguel but it’s not what you’d expect.

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ fluff (for the most part), pet names, swearing, jealousy, spider society shenanigans, angsty ending

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

holy shit. this place is gigantic yet so alluring. you never realized how many spider-people existed. there is an infinite number of them, such a phenomenon. but also different variations of them. there’s a pig, who you like very much, a cat, numerous peters, and even a goddamn t-rex. absolutely extraordinary.

this place is like a modern atlantis. prosperous and alluring with a large population of phenomenal beings. large and discrete yet vibrant.

miguel sneak glances at you, drinking in your awestruck expression. the way your eyes scan each detail of the place, filled with astonishment. the corner of your lips raised, grinning from ear to ear. the soft quiet gasps that elicits from those exact lips. you may be awestruck by the place but him, on the other hand, is awestruck by you. miguel likes seeing you impressed and captivated by the society, a sense of pride flows in his veins. but in full honesty, he just really likes your little reactions. thankfully for his mask, no one can see the slight smirk underneath it.

while he gives a little history lesson of the society, a woman with orange glasses approaches you both. you notice a very visible baby bump.

“brought a friend, miguel?” she asks teasingly with a smirk, resting one hand on underneath her bump while the other on her hip.

wait — that voice sounds familiar. oh! she’s the woman from the watch.

the tall spider-man rolls his eyes at the pregnant woman. “hilarious, jess.” he deadpans.

she ignores him and turns her attention to you. “i’m jessica but you can call me jess. it’s nice to finally meet the girl he’s been obsessing about.” the woman smiles as she offers her hand for a shake, ignoring the death glare from her colleague.

you raise your eyebrows, mirroring her smile. “oh believe me, i know. i’m [y/n].” you shake her hand.

now he knows your name. it’s pretty, like you. after all this time, miguel never asked for it. supposedly the arguments and chitchats made him forget or just never thought of doing so. at least he now knows. that name is imbedded in his memory.

“so he’s been giving your the dreadful history lesson about this place, huh?” she retracts her hand, placing back on her hip like before.

miguel shoots her a glare she’s familiar with and yet, as always, never bothered her.

you snort. “yeah although i gotta admit, it’s quite interesting.” you flash him a small smile before turning your gaze back at the pregnant woman.

his eyes widen a bit at your smile, a sign of appreciation. you basically defended him and that surprises miguel wholeheartedly. normally, whenever he discusses the backstory of developing the society, all he would get in return are yawns and half-lidded eyes with the word ‘boredom’ written on their forehead. but with you, he has your full attention. how you’re attentive to each word he says. that makes his heart skip a beat. someone who actually listens to him; his story. he appreciates it, deeply.

“so you’re a pregnant spider-woman. that is so badass.” you compliment.

jessica chuckles, rubbing her swollen belly with one hand. “it’s quite the challenge but i manage.” a faint beep comes from her watch, making her take a glance at it before looking back at you and miguel. “well, time to kick some butt. it was nice meeting you, [y/n].” she offers a smile before walking away.

you return the smile then turn back to miguel. “i like her, total badass.”

“she’s one of our best.” he said as you two continue walking through the hallway.

more spider-people walk past you both. majority of them greet you with smiles and waves, you reciprocate. miguel watches from the corner of his eye, observing how kind you are to them, taking mental note of the difference between how you treat them and him. no sass, no sneaky remarks. just all smiles and being polite. interesting, he thought.

another spider-person approached you, a badass punky looking spider-man this time. he has facial piercings, a vest with spikes on the shoulders and a matching choker. this spider-man intrigues you.

miguel groans internally at the sight of one of his least favorite spiderlings, pinching the bridge of his nose. just shocking great, he thought to himself.

“well ‘ello beautiful.” the punky looking spider-man greets you with a smirk, hands nestled in his vest pockets. “whatcha ya name, pretty?”

you smile at his british accent, giving your name.

“pretty name for a pretty little lady. the name’s spider-punk but you can just call me hobie.” he smiles, offering a wink at you.

hints of pink stain your cheeks, smiling bashfully at the charming brit. “cool name. love the vest.” you gesture at his punky-looking vest.

miguel glares at the interaction, hating every ounce of it. hobie’s flirtatious antics always pisses him off, it’s annoying. however, it is even more irritating since it’s you who he is flirting with.

hobie catches miguel’s jealous glare, even through his mask, which causes him to smirk mischievously. to piss him off more, hobie drapes an arm around your shoulders and gently pulls you closer to him. “why don’t i show ya the rest of the place? make things more entertaining than whatever the bossman is telling ya.” he flashes a smirk at you then miguel.

miguel has never wanted to punch someone so badly. those brown irises were replaced with red ones, glaring at the punk’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. miguel wants to pull you away from this imbecile, considering hobie a ‘bad influence.’ but in reality, he doesn’t want you alone with him, replacing his job as the tour guide. your tour guide.

“don’t you have a mission to complete?” miguel glares at the punk, annoyance and anger in his tone.

hobie shoots him a smug smirk. “just did, bossman.” he looks back at you. “what do ya say, little lady?”

“she’s fine with me.” miguel said through gritted teeth, the eyes of his mask narrowed.

“i think that’s up to her, boss.” the punky-looking spider looks back at you, a small smile on his face, patiently waiting for your answer.

heat rose in your cheeks as. you look up at him with fluttering lashes. “sure.” you flash him a bashfully smile, forgetting about miguel in that moment.

the poor spider-man 2099 feels abandoned by your answer. a painful stab to the chest. choosing hobie over him, replacing him as your tour guide. what the fuck? that isn’t fair, hobie’s mischievous ass stealing you from him, interrupting your tour. the tour that he was giving until this very moment.

hobie glances up and winks at him, earning himself a death glare. “let’s go, pretty. i’ll show ya the cool stuff.” and with that, hobie lures you away, keeping that arm wrapped around your shoulders.

standing in utter defeat, and perhaps disbelief too, miguel sadly watches you walk away with hobie. his eyes twitch at the sight, fists rapidly opening and closing at his sides. he can’t believe that little shithead, stealing you from him. he isn’t possessive of you. no, never. you’re just a random civilian who he happens to talk to. friends? somewhat acquainted, maybe? miguel has no right feel this way about you. but the unpleasant thought of some other guy doing his job for him, hanging out with you. his heart stings of jealousy but also sadness.

catching one last glance of you until you’re no longer in sight, he lets out a sad sigh. feeling angry and abandoned, miguel retreats to his office for the rest of the day. maybe participating a random missions would take his mind off of things. maybe, and hopefully, he’ll catch you later when you’re by yourself so you two can resume your conversation.

━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━

“and this is my favorite place.” hobie gestures at the cafeteria with one free hand while the other is still draped over your shoulders.

you softly giggle. “can’t go wrong with food.”

he flashes a smirk before you both wander off to the cafeteria. various spider-people sat at the tables while others wait in line for their food. you glance at the menu, one item specifically catches your attention which makes your mouth drop in surprise.

“oh my god. there’s a burger of miguel’s face? that’s fucking hilarious.” you point at the picture of the miguel burger displayed on the menu screen.

“yep. quite good, to be honest. of course the man hates it so we kept it.” a playful smirk on his lips.

you can’t help but laugh. oh you wait can’t wait to make fun of him about this later. you can already imagine the iconic frown of his, how embarrassed he would be. another thing to shit on him about.

a blonde haired girl approached you, a slice of pizza in her hand. beside her is a boy dressed in a black spider-man with a red logo. he seems to be munching on something, a pastry of some sort. they seem to be a few years younger than you.

“hey hobie! who’s this?” the blonde girl asks, smiling.

hobie gently tugs you closer by the shoulders. “this pretty little lady is [y/n].”

you smile and wave at them both, they reciprocate.

“hi! i’m gwen! this is miles.” she gestures at the boy next to her. “you don’t look like a spider-person.” she jokes, taking a bite of her pizza.

“oh no. i’m not a cool super being like you guys, just a normal boring human.” you shrug with a smile.

“a cool human.” hobie adds, smiling at you which makes you blush a little.

“well, nice to meet you, [y/n]. it’s actually cool to meet someone here who’s not a spider-person. do you work here?” gwen asks with a smile.

you shake your head. “no! i’m just visiting. miguel wanted to show me this place — well, i begged him to but still.” a soft chuckle at the end.

the two teens stare at you with wide eyes, visibly dumbfounded by your words.

“wait — miguel brought you here?” miles asks.

“are you his girlfriend?” gwen adds in abruptly.

your eyes widen in shock, quickly shaking your head as panic kicks in. “no no! i’m not his girlfriend. oh god no. that man is too much. he just saved my ass a couple of times and are sorta friends, that’s all.”

jeez, the way your heart started beating rapidly at that accusation was insane. they really thought you were his girlfriend? well sure — he did bring you here, that you begged for him to do.

oh shit — does everyone else think the same?

“ohhh gotcha. it’s true tho, he can be a little wild. yelling at people and throwing stuff sometimes.” miles elaborated, munching on his empanada.

your eyebrows raise in surprise, blinking a few times. throws stuff? yells at people? damn, that guy has some serious anger issues.

“hey, you wanna eat with us? then maybe we can show you more of the place after.” gwen suggests.

your eyes perk up at the suggestion. “yeah sure! plus, i’m starving.”

everyone laughs at your joke. looks like you made new friends. spider friends, to be exact. you already love this place, should definitely visit often.

━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━

the spider teens are probably the sweetest and funniest people you’ve ever met. after lunch, you met their friends pavitr and margo. they continued on giving you a tour of the society before a mission was called for. today, you made new friends. you like really hobie, a lot. everything he does or say is just mesmerizing. he even invited you to come hang out in his universe anytime. oh for sure you’re gonna take up that offer. a day with hobie sounds fun.

one of the spider-men, webslinger, who’s such a gentleman with a thick western accent, escorts you back to miguel’s office on his horse. you’ve never done horseback riding so that was a new experience. besides hobie, you also really like webslinger, you nicknamed him ‘cowboy’ and he adores it.

as you walk to his office, it appears no one’s here. he’s probably on a mission. left alone with your curious mind, you wander around the office. there seems to be a desk with a chair, so you decide to walk over and take a seat. there’s nothing on the desk other than a button which seemed a bit odd. you simply mind your business and pull out your phone from your back pocket. while scrolling through social media, your elbow accidentally hits the button as you rest it on the desk, making you gasp.

“oh shit!” you curse, almost falling off the chair in shock as multiple orange screens suddenly appear in front of you. “whoa…” the screens display various information and images of spider society and multiverse shenanigans. you stare in awe, eyes wandering at each screen with quick glances. at the bottom left corner, secluded from the rest of the screens, there’s a small file icon.

FILE NAME ˒˒ GABRIELLA

your eyebrows furrow in confusion at the file name. who’s gabriella? just as your finger tips hovers over the file button, you pause. what if this is personal? why else would it be secluded from the rest of the screens? you shouldn’t snoop through miguel’s stuff. you knew better than that. as you lean away, your foot slips, making you gasp and accidentally tap the file button. a screen appears in front of you. it’s a video of a little girl and a man. oh wow the man looks handsome, like utterly handsome. is that miguel? that’s who’s under the mask? damn, those plump lips makes sense. as you look closely, they both have dark chocolate hair, similar features like almost identical, like she’s a mini version of him. you put the pieces together, a mind-blowing reveal.

she is his daughter.

he is a father.

it shows the little girl sitting on top of on his shoulders. she has food in her hand like ice cream or something like that. she shoves it in miguel’s face after his fail attempt to stop her, making them both laugh. your heart melts at the sight, how adorable the little girl is. an exact replica of her father. miguel, on the other hand, looks happy. what surprises you more is his smile. how genuinely happy he looks, being a lovely and caring father.

“DON’T WATCH THAT!” an angry voice shouts from behind, making your body shiver in fear.

you swiftly turn around to find miguel, his mask gone and face revealed with the most pissed off expression ever. those crimson eyes glare at you like daggers, ready to kill its prey right now the spot. his talons and fangs stick out. you’ve never been so terrified in your life, almost pissing your pants.

“oh shit! i’m sorry! i didn’t—“ he cuts you off by stomping towards the screen and shuts it off, vanishing from the rest.

“NO ONE’S ALLOWED TO SEE THAT! WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LOOK AT THAT?!” his yelling echoes throughout the office, ringing in your ears. others could definitely hear it from outside.

your heart pounds immensely in your chest, glossy eyes widen in total fear. your body shakes and hands become clammy. your anxiety at its peak right now.

“i — i didn’t mean to… i’m sorry…” a voice crack in your voice, making you sound weak and afraid.

“are you that fucking stupid?! jesus, your annoying ass begged me to bring you here and now you’re snooping through my stuff?! what’s wrong with you?!” miguel heavily glares at you, chest heaving like almost panting, clenched fists at his sides.

you don’t know what else to say other than stare in fear, flinching at his harsh words, stepping back from him. you��re at the brink of bursting into tears. he was right, what the fuck is wrong with you? snooping through his personal stuff like an intruder, a total fucking idiot. even though it was an accident, you still watched it. god you hate yourself for that.

miguel notices your teary eyes and his expression softens immediately. that stabs him in the fucking heart. those ruby irises turn back to brown, his talons now gone. guilt begins plaguing his body as he looks at your frighten state. what has he done?

“i — i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to—“ he takes a step forward with a hand reaching out to you but you take a big step away from him, making his heart crack.

you shake your head, avoiding his angry gaze, afraid to look back. “no… it’s — it’s my fault… i’m sorry…” without looking at him, you turn on your heel and rush out of his office. strings of tears ran down your cheeks, exiting his office with sniffles.

standing there with slumped shoulders and an arching heart, miguel watched you leave. guilt stabs him in the chest. why the fuck did he yell at you like that? you didn’t deserve that. there’s nothing wrong with you, it’s actually what is wrong with him. he scared you and made you run off. letting out a loud grunt of anger and frustration, miguel slams his fists on the desk which it echoes in his office, causing two indents. he lowers his head into his hands, sighing out of frustration. the self-loathing increases.

what has he done?

ᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁. 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˖ ࣪ ༘ @loser-alert @keepitreal001 @iamperson12280 @nostalgicdaira @flordelalunas @oharasfilipinawife @cho-coquette @lavenderslemonade @palesatan @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @lilscast @beanieboy23 @dorck26 @kakabskbskdnd @4crew @deputy-videogamer @36namey @sin4tra @holographicang3l @migueloharasoulmate

#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #fanfic series

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echoedcrosshairs · 9 months

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Unseen Scars ~ p.2

Summary: Female Jedi survived order 66 hides out in the underground of Ord Mantell. Hiding out in Cid's parlor keeping your head down you see Rex's face and get sent backward in time. (Gif by @dreamswithghosts)

Warning: Order 66 Jedi Trauma, Feeling Haunted, Soft Rex, Angsty and Love

Word count: 2.7

Masterlist part 1

Facing all that you fear will free you from yourself. Your nerves were still on edge tempting you to flee being around the rest of clone force 99 even if their chips weren't activated they were still at risk at going nuclear at any moment. Although the walk back to the parlor soothed your nerves being Echo and him again but going into the parlor into such a cramped space didn't help. Rex positioned you behind him hoping it would help sooth you, his arm went around your waist ready to shove you away if necessary. Nonchalantly Echo had placed himself between Rex and the rest of his brothers, he may have trusted them with every bone in his body since they rescued him but you were still the commander to him. They both wanted to protect you even from a non existed threat. It was comforting that after all this time Rex and Echo just had to look at each other to know what the other was thinking. The 501st may be gone but the bond between them lives on.

"Do you think the Commander will rehabilitate?" Tech said flatly looking at you then back to Rex mind conversation, "Obviously I disagree with the systematic eradication of the Jedi, she does not possess the same mental fitness as we clones have been bred to endure and the order has seem to take a heavy toil on her mental aptitude for returning to the fight."

"The Commander-" Rex started, "Can speak for herself," you cut in.

You swallowed looking at Tech, "A wise man once said Truth enlightens the mind, but won't always bring happiness to your heart. It is a lot to accept and understand but it doesn't heal the fact my own men, men I trusted with my life and fought beside for years, tried to terminate me nor the death of so many allies. That same man also said 'Ignore your own instincts at your own peril," you paused to look at them and up at Wrecker before your eyes shot back down, you couldn't help feel that something was wrong but the force was beckoning your silence, "I am not ready to find myself in that position again."

"Well get them out," Echo said defiantly, "We'll never be a threat to you, ever."

"I'll be in touch," Rex nodded pulling you away from them towards the exit but waited to speak until he put a decent amount of distance between you and Hunter, "The force is telling you something isn't it?"

"They have to get them out, soon. How did you get yours out?"

Jesse... Vaughn... Your mind wandered to the battlefield, having the 501st at your side. The boys always wanted to die in battle but never like that. You wiped the corner of your eyes, "They were good men," you choked out when he was done.

"The best."

The both of you continued down the street in silence, at some point your hand found his. It still hurt to look at him but his presence helped the pain, "Now what?" you whispered.

"You can stay here... or you can help me save my brothers, I have to try."

You looked at him, the conviction as dedication across his face was the same one he had before a battle, "I'll come," you whispered before you had time to think it through, "Don't know how much use I'll be, Tech has a point."

"It doesn't matter, just having a Jedi with us is enough especially you Commander," Rex said squeezing your hand, "We should gather your belongings, the boys are destined to pick me up shortly."

Weaving between side streets it was an easy back track to your tiny place, Rex found a bag and quickly packed your clothes as your hand rested against the slats in the floor concealing your past. You scooted up lifting the slate with the force letting your free hand dig out the pouch after putting the board back you opened it retrieving the saber. The weight felt foreign in your grasp, the metal cool to the touch. You flicked it up into the air catching it with the other hand, just like riding a speeder. Looking over you saw Rex observing with a small smile before he returned to packing, you tucked the saber away.

"Are you sure about this?" he said slinging the bag over his shoulder but not looking at you trying to hide the grim expression. He would keep giving you a chance to go back to a normal life if you wanted one even if it hurt him, the war took so much from you he didn't want to be the reason you lost any more.

"Facing all that you fear will free you from yourself," you stated with a heavy breath, it wasn't the simple answer you knew Rex wanted but it was the truth, "If you remember Anakin and I were never one for running when things got tough. I think I've hidden in the shadows long enough." That statement was the first sliver of hope you had in a long time. Your eyes found Rex's, fondness had swept over them at the mention of the old days, the simple days. Keeping eye contact you took the short steps across to him tucking your face in his neck holding him. Your body still screamed run but your heart told you not to let go.

His hand found your back rubbing it, "We should get going," he sighed not wanting the tender moment to end, "Let's meet the 105th," he smirked.

"Did you really just switch the numbers?" you said with real genuine laughter.

"No, but I think I'll start calling us that if you make that beautiful sound again," he said putting your arm through the crook of his, "Let's go."

Finding the ship wasn't hard, it was discreet for the most part in the back of the docking station. The only tell tale sign that it was different then any of the standard ships around the port had been a barely noticeable white mark barely indistinguishable in the shape of Ashoka facial mark hidden near the bottom of the haul by the ramp.

Rex squeezed your hand tightly finding the nervous expression on your face, "None of these men will ever be a threat to you," he said giving the ship three solid knocks.

Your heart shook as the anticipation grew, these are Rex's men. Deserters of the Empire, they could be trusted. Right? I trusted my men... Clam grew over your skin as the ramp finally touched the ground. Looking up you found a green trooper looking down at you, one of master Yoda's men? You watched the trooper salute, standing at attention coughing to get the attention of the other trooper hanging near by who repeated his attention.

"Commander, this is Nemec and the brother over there is Fireball, at ease," Rex said giving them a stiff nod.

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Nemec said as you walked on board after Rex.

"She's a little skittish around us clones so give her breathing room."

"Don't blame her," Fireball murmured, "I barely ever want to see our face again," he heard Nemec cough finding the glare he was giving him, "Just saying, I can barely stand to look at it after what our brothers did."

"His chip's defective, deteriorated but unlike Tup's it didn't execute the order early. It's out now. He took the loss of his General hard and found me soon after," Rex whispered.

"Let's get out of here, I'm going to show the Commander around," Rex said gesturing away from them, "Refresher, their room, my room, mess... sorta," he shrugged, "storage closet, I could turn that into your private room if you want one," he shrugged again nervously rubbing his neck at the unspoken question hanging in the area.

"I think I should share yours Captain, I'll want my own bed of course."

Rex's heart skipped a beat, "I can arrange that," he tried to keep his stern dignified expression but felt like a cadet, of course their had been nights together but never like this coexisting in the same place, "Sorry," he coughed finding the responsive blush across your face. "Anyway, you can take my bed for now. I'll go grab a spare mat from the storage room," he said setting the pack down on his bed excusing himself so you to get settled in. It's not like before di'kut, the reminder settled in his bones wondering if all of the closeness had been to much. He tried to steal himself to that possibility. Taking a seat outside the room, he forced himself to clear his mind until Nemec walked over.

"You sure about this, Captain," he said jetting his chin towards the door, "We need a Jedi on our side but are we sure being in these cramped quarters is good for her?"

Rex understood his brothers concern, he looked at the door for a moment before placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "She was always the backbone holding the men together after every major loses and always giving us hope. It's time we do the same for her." His tone was firm, "I trust her, she choose to come with me for a reason. I believe she knows she can work through this."

"Did you ever think she came because she loves you?"

"Trust her judgement, Vod," Rex smiled taking his hand off his shoulder, "Let's head to base." Turning on his heel Rex rummaged through the storage closet grabbing the rolled up mat before heading back to his room. Our room, he thought smiling. When he returned all of your belonging had already taken up the spade signifying your stay with him.

"I haven't seen or slept on one of those in ages," you smiled softly looking at the poor express for a bed as he laid it out, "I'll take the mat if you want the bed-."

"Don't even think about taking the floor Mesh'la," he said bringing his gaze to yours, "We'll head to our base to plan to get The Bad Batch's chips out and you can see everyone else, I know their's a couple other 501st troopers who'd love to see you," he smiled.

"Who?" You asked going wide eyed.

"Hawk and Dogma," his grinned widen, "I definitely didn't expect it either," he cautiously said walking forward letting one hand fall to your hip, "A Jedi and a captain, whatever are they going to think," he jested hearing you laugh melting some of the burdens in his heart, "I've missed you every passing moment, Cyare," his grin faltered for a second before returning, "No matter how long it takes I'll wait for you to be ready again," he said letting go, "the rest of my life if need be. Now I have to try to figure out how to get their chips out."

"Captain?"

"Yes, Mesh'la?"

You took the step back towards him wrapping your arms around his neck, the familiar scent, feel of him and the warm tiny tug through the force, "Thank you for being patient," you pulled away wrapping your arms at your side, "We can use the republic scrap yard, their were rumors of a ship being delivered."

"And you know this how?" Rex smiled crossing his arms.

"I did have a salvaging job to get by."

"I'll let the boys know and we can devise a plan, welcome back Commander."

You followed after him, skin prickling at Nemec and Fireballs presence. They each offered a small smile as you took the sit next to the Captain as he started planning. He was quiet for what seemed like forever when he hand stretched out and rested in your thigh as he kept working. You looked down at it, lip quivering as tears threaten to fall again. It's a different time, you placed your hand over his as you chimed it time to time with what little information you had.

"Rex?"

"Yes, Mesh'la?" he said not lifting his eyes from the task at hand.

"I'll love you the rest of my life too," you whispered squeezing his hand, "I think we're getting ready to land again," you said feeling the ship slowing down.

Rex gave a tiny nod standing up interweaving his fingers with yours, guiding you towards the cockpit finding Fireball bringing the ship down. You observed the low tech handmade building and the small cluster of troopers already waiting outside, greens, greys, a red and then the 501st blue. You saw the familiar valiant tattoo across Dogma's face and then the red hawk wing tattoo's on Hawk's temples. Walking off the ship Rex placed himself between you and the rest of them, each set of eyes noticing the hands bound together. You felt like you were going to be sick being around this many troopers, it apparently must have paled you.

"Commander, you're not looking so good," Hawk pointed out.

"Let's get some air Cyare," he said softly, "Hawk, Dogma both of you are coming with me to help a couple of our brother's get their chips out."

"Yes, Sir."

Gently you felt Rex stir you away from the crowd away from prying eyes towards the edge of the small base, guiding you towards a crate to sit on overlooking the forest, "Better?" he asked quietly.

"Do you think Tech's right? What if-."

"A wise woman once told me when I was losing faith in myself; A soldier's most powerful weapon is courage. Courage begins by trusting oneself. You choose to come with me, Commander, you could have stayed on Ord Mantell and lived out a regular civilian life but you didn't."

"You've been waiting since Tibrin to toss that back at me, haven't you?" you said with a smile sad laugh, your gaze travelled to the sky remembering other sayings you were taught; Who we are never changes, who we think we are does. One must let go of the past to hold on to the future. To seek something is to believe in its possibility. I was- I am Jedi, a Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic and partner of one of the most highly decorated Captain's. I do not run when the battle get's rough, I stand beside my men and face evil head first. I am survivor of Order 66, I lived to fight another day. You exhaled a breath you were apparently holding. Turning your head, you took his appearance forcing your mind to calm down and body to still. The familiar earthly tone of his eyes; the arrays of brown to shimmering golds, the short blonde hair, the expressive eyes just for you and a smile that puts very sun to shame. While your body tried to fight but your mind had already come to terms with reality, it might take for your body to catch up but it would be worth it. Rex would be worth it. You watched his hand come up and caress your cheek, your breath hitched as you leaned into it bringing your hand to his.

"Possibly," he smiled finally answering the question, "Ready to go back?"

"Yeah, I want to see the boys," you smiled.

Rex pulled you closer to him, "Let's go see the boys," he affirmed keeping his hand around your waist stirring you around troopers until he found the two other blues in the back rolling up their sleeping packs.

"Sir," Dogma saluted before staring down at Rex's arm, "Regulations-"

"No longer exist," Hawk pointed out, "Called it," he chuckled.

"Nice to see you too, Dogma."

"Sorry, still getting use to it," he added nervously.

"Me too," you mumbled.

"I am happy for the two of you," Dogma quickly added, "When are we leaving?"

"In a couple hours," Rex said feeling your body slowly continue to tense. His mouth fell agape when you reached out hugging the two of them, "I've missed you, boys," you whispered before pulling back. Rex's hand found your waist again feeling the muscles constrict themselves into knots. He stirred both of you back to the ship to your's room, "That was bold," he murmured eyeing you cautiously as you climbed onto the bed.

"With great risk comes great rewards," you offered, gently tugging his hand towards the bed smiling as redness flushed across his face. Sheepishly he removed his poncho and armor discarding it to a regulation neat pile on the floor, “How about until we leave I try to get use to being next to you again?”

“There is no other place I rather be then next to you, Commander,” Rex smiled climbing into the bed, “Just tell me when it becomes to much, I don’t mind taking my time with the scars I can’t see.”

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kometqh · 8 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝

Part 2. Viscount!Captain Rex x Maid!F!Reader The Viscount is a renowned bachelor, known for his kindness, his wits and his charm. Ladies from across the planet swoon over him, visit him, are denied by him. He is a respectable, well-known man. What nobody seems to know is his knack for venturing out into the night, returning home with treasures, jewels, drinks, and most of all, ladies of the night. What does one do when they are caught red-handed, by none other than a lowly maid? Word Count: 4,385 Warnings: none from what I can recall A/N: This is a bit more of a filler chapter, it's much needed to move the story forward and introduce new characters (one included in this) for later on ^^

You didn’t sleep well that night. Nor the night after.

Just hours after the Viscount had informed you of your change in positions, you’d been forced to move to the upper levels of the mansion. You had been gracefully gifted with a slightly larger room, in the furthest corner of the second floor. Your bed looked slightly bigger, felt slightly more luxurious, spacious, even.

By the time you awoke, your back felt stiffer, and your sheets warmer. Your mind felt hazy and disoriented, and the new room hadn’t quite felt like home yet. Your body itched to return to your small closet, the one place you found yourself craving after a long day’s worth of work.

But those fantasies and mind-puzzles could be saved for later. You had to focus on the ‘now’.

As soon as she had been informed, Mrs Opal wasted no time in assigning new tasks to you. Each morning, you and the Steward were to wake the Viscount, you were to prepare his clothing and follow him around as the Steward explained the proceedings of the day before disappearing off to someplace. You were to be a personal barber, daily personal assistant and sometimes caretaker. Not your typical Valet, but you realised there was little you could do.

The Viscount was insistent on keeping you close at all times.

And so, the next time you had crossed the Viscount, he took you by surprise. He hadn’t done so much as even acknowledge your presence. Whether that was for the better, or, for the worse, you couldn’t quite tell yet. The stiffness in your back prevented any more than a few simple thoughts.

Maybe it was typical to do so.

Either way, you were relieved. You did not need the entire staff to see the phantom interactions between you and the Viscount. But no matter what you did, it seemed that the entire household had eyes on the backs of their heads.

That first morning, you had almost received a lashing for simply looking at the Viscount. Apparently, it was in your job description to keep your head low and your voice lower. You were not to utter a word.

At least around the Steward.

Your eyes remained trained on the sharp slope of his jaw, the long blade clutched between your fingers feeling threatening with each precise incision along the tender skin.

Your breathing was steady, your fingers trembling, and your eyes focused as you ignored the burning gaze of the Viscount. He was definitely trying to mess with you. Make you slip up. At this point, you felt like simple game to him. An unsuspecting, grazing fawn.

He watched you with an eager curiosity, studying every inch of your face, like a little toddler exploring nature. This was probably the most intimate he was with a woman without the presence of sexual need or desire.

A curt, relieved sigh escaped you as your fingers carried out the last stroke, leaving the Viscount with a neat, freshly shaven face. You reached for the wet cloth beside you, wrenching the water from it before you gently wiped at his face, removing all excess foam. His eyelids finally fell, separating the two of you, and you allowed your eyes to stray a little, watching drops of water cascading down the expanse of his jaw and throat, before they connected with the towel wrapped neatly around his collarbone and shoulders.

You felt a tinge of pride as the Viscount was visibly relaxed.

You turned away for a moment, towards the chimney. A lone towel had been hung close to it, to ensure it was dry and warm. You observed the flickering, amber flames for a moment, before you returned to the Viscount. You wished to reach out, to feel the sunlight-like warmth of the fire on your skin. Instead, you confided in the burning comfort of the towel.

A soft sigh escaped the Viscount as you pressed the material against his skin. As you moved to wrap it around his face, you were promptly stopped.

“Don’t.” He muttered out, raising a single hand. His eyelids remained closed, and yet you felt more watched now than ever.

Your heart dropped, and the false sense of calm you had managed to conjure up had shattered into a million pieces. A cold sweat bloomed over your skin, your hands paused in mid-air.

“Don’t…?” You repeated, unsurely.

The Viscount took a moment, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Don’t wrap it around my face. Just… Stick to pressing.” Was all he said, his hand dropping back to the armrest.

“Yes, my Lord.” You muttered, giving a slight, courteous nod, even if the Viscount couldn’t see it. The moment felt like an eternity as you gently pressed the towel against his face, making sure it didn’t cover his mouth or nose. The Viscount didn’t protest, and so you assumed that was the most he’d tolerate.

You couldn’t slip up.

You had seen the state of the other girls who had.

Their wounds, if not treated, would quickly become infected. They’d fall ill and were forced to leave. And if they were treated, the scars would run deep into their skin, like valleys that weren’t ever meant to be there. Some would say they still hurt from time to time, even if their last lashing was years prior.

“That’s all, my Lord.” You softly spoke as you stepped away, collecting all the essentials. He took a moment to open his eyes, but when he did, he didn’t leave the seat. His gaze was trained on the fire before him, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. Instantaneously, your body went into full alert. You cleared your throat, attempting to gain his attention.

The Viscount didn’t even turn his head at the sound.

“M- My Lord? Are you feeling unwell?” You asked, keeping your distance. Whatever it was, you weren’t keen on getting involved in it.

After a moment of silence, you heard him sharply take in a breath.

“You’re dismissed.” His tone was ice cold, quiet as he hummed the words out.

You blinked in surprise. Were you supposed to argue? Remind him of his duties? Or leave him be until it was time to leave?

“Y- Yes my Lord.” You uttered, taking all your equipment. As you opened the door, you looked back, giving a slight bow of your head. The Viscount was still staring at the fire, unmoving even as the door slid shut with a soft thump.

Confusion prickled at the back of your head as you headed down the staircase, heading for the washrooms. Skilfully, you ignored the curious stares and mocking whispers as you kept your head down.

You were used to fellow servants gossiping about the daily lives of their employers, and occasionally you’d lend a listening ear. But you certainly did not enjoy feeling like the centre of the attention.

There were more important matters on your mind.

The Viscount was certainly odd; that went without saying.

It was strange, his behaviour. One moment he was intimidating and charming, the next he was oddly distant and quiet. His eyes would haze over with a fog, as if he was miles away in the past.

Whatever it was, you needed him to wake up from it. He had a ball to attend to that evening, and you needed him to feel ready and excited, after all, this year he was intending on marrying. You’d decided you would do anything to gain his trust and help him, although he didn’t need much help in the way of looks and charm…

A familiar voice reached your ears as you rounded the corner

“I don’t know what that girl did, but I do know one thing,” The voice spoke, and you quietened your steps so as to not betray your presence.

“And what’s that, Opal?” A masculine voice replied. It was the Butler, Mr Karr.

“Nothing good will come of this. She knows something that the Viscount doesn’t want anyone to know about, but sooner or later, the entire house staff and town will hear of it,” She paused, and you could hear the heavy sigh escaping her lips, “One way or another.”

You carefully peeked round the corner, looking Mrs Opal and the Butler up and down. Both had busied themselves with washing and drying some glasses.

It seemed as though they also enjoyed indulging themselves in a little bit of gossip.

However, you knew Mrs Opal was right. One way or another, this entire situation would turn sour, and you would be the sole victim of it.

You ducked out of sight and leaned your entire body against the wall. Just wait a little bit, or else I’m going to look suspicious, you thought to yourself. Your arms were slowly beginning to feel uncomfortable, the towels and shaving items were heavy, but you did not want to raise suspicions. Mrs Opal seemed to be the only person in this house that was trying to help you, to some degree at least.

The two didn’t say anything else, settling instead for a comfortable silence, and after a few more moments, you made your way into the washrooms.

You made your presence known as you stepped down into the lowered room, avoiding as many puddles as you could. The Butler glanced to you, acknowledging you with a curt nod.

“I have brought the Viscounts’ trimming essentials, Mrs Opal.” You quietly stated and stifled a laugh as the woman flinched and clutched at her chest.

“Goodness me, Y/n! You do not sneak up on others like this!” She exclaimed, half-heartedly whacking you with a rag on your bottom. A yelp left your lips as you hopped out of the way, narrowly missing a slip up.

“Apologies, Mrs Opal, I didn’t mean to!” You said quickly, “The Viscount dismissed me, it seems like he needed a moment alone, so I’ve brought his towels and tools to be cleaned.” You explained, setting the basket down on the floor. Mrs Ophelia looked towards you and with a nod, returned to her tasks.

“I’ll have a scullery maid take care of it. Now go back, you aren’t to be away from the Viscount for long.” She quickly dismissed you, and with a curt nod, you made your way out.

“That’s the maid?” The Butler was quick to ask as soon as you had disappeared out of sight.

“Careful! She might hear!” Mrs Opal scolded, and as you got further away, her voice became fainter and fainter until it blended in with the other background noises of the mansion.

It only had been a couple of days, but you felt yourself warming up to the woman. Previously, you had known her as a stone-cold, strict housekeeper, but now, now you felt there was more to her stony exterior than she let on.

Or maybe you were tricking yourself.

Maybe she was just gossiping and wasn’t looking out for you. Maybe she was as selfish as many of the others, after all, the life of a servant was anything but pleasant. Who could blame her?

However, there was that small inkling of hope within you; maybe she’d help you when you’d need it the most.

Those thoughts could be saved for another time, though. For now, you needed to return to the Viscount.

You feared what the Steward, Mr Owens, would do were you to ‘neglect’ your duties for too long.

The sound of hurried footsteps reached your earshot, and you slowly turned your head to check out what was happening. You steadied yourself with a hand on the grand staircase, and quirked a brow as Mrs Opal came into view.

“Y/n, wait!” She exclaimed, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you glanced around. It seemed that she not only caught your attention, but also everyone else’s.

“Yes, ma’am?” You inquired, twisting your body to face her.

“I forgot to mention it to you earlier,” She paused, catching her breath. “I’ll be taking you to the village today, as ordered by the Viscount. Be ready and waiting by five o’clock.” She said as she closed the distance between the two of you, looking up at you with a strange seriousness.

“We’ll be going to the village? Whatever for?”

“I’ll tell you on the way,” She said, glancing sideways at the tuned in onlookers, “It seems like we have found ourselves an audience. Scram!” She suddenly exclaimed; your body flinched in response. She really knew how to raise her voice.

It seemed to work though as the scullery maids and footmen dispersed, leaving the grand staircase as empty and quiet as it was meant to be. It wasn’t common for staff to linger around the area.

“I’ll let you get going now.” She waved you off, descending the stairs.

“Yes ma’am.” You muttered, resuming your climb up.

How strange.

You’d never been tasked with duties that were to take place outside of the manor. What was so important the Viscount was willing to let you go into the village?

You bunched your skirts in your palms, lifting them just enough to not risk tripping. When did climbing stairs become so daunting?

Though your exhaustion was shadowed over by the awe you felt as you looked around the hallways.

Creamy white tapestries, golden accents on railings and paintings expertly placed everywhere. Navy blue curtains were drawn at every window, and you noticed they almost touched the ceiling as you craned your neck. Ruby pink and white roses were perfectly spaced, following the edge of the wall. They lead to different rooms and windows like a path of crumbs in a forest.

You wondered whether that was the Viscount’s influence or someone else’s.

You paused in your steps.

A figure stood atop the staircase caught your attention. You recognised him.

Lord Wolffe, one of the Viscount’s older brothers.

What was he doing here? As far as you were aware, he was always hiding away in his study, or disappearing for drinks late at night.

And now, he was watching you. His gaze scorned your skin, like a blaster bullet.

Maybe he’d be gone by the time you reached the top.

But with each step, and each glance up, he wasn’t budging. His stare was solely focused on you. You felt your heart drop into your stomach as you reached the last step.

“My Lord?” You asked, keeping your head low. You did not wish to upset another one of your employers.

You ensured to keep an appropriate distance between the two of you. You were close enough to signal to him that you needed to pass, but far enough to not invade his personal space, or make it seem as though you held no respect for him. But the Lord didn’t move.

“Yes?” He asked. You could feel his glare on you.

“May I pass by, my Lord?” You asked, keeping your focus concentrated on his shiny polished shoes.

There was no hesitation in his response.

“You may not.”

Your head raised faster than your mind could comprehend his response.

“Why n- not?” A small gasp escaped you, and your skirts dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth. A slip up.

“M- My apologies, my Lord. I did not mean to be disrespectful.” You said quickly, bowing your head back down. You could feel your heart thundering against your chest, so quickly and strongly it almost hurt.

He did not respond. Instead, his feet moved, and his fingers cupped your chin.

“Look at me.” His tone was sharp yet gentle, like a blade, falsely comforting until you applied enough pressure to cut. Hesitantly, you allowed him to angle your face until it met his, but your gaze concentrated on the wall behind him. You did not wish to anger the Lord.

“M- My Lord?”

He studied your features with a scolding stare, causing heat to rush up to your face and shivers down your spine. What could he want from you, a lowly servant?

“You’re an obedient one, aren’t you?” He questioned, his hold on your chin tightening. Were you supposed to grant him a response or nod your head or remain quiet? Mrs Opal did not prepare you for this type of situation. You weren’t even sure she herself had ever encountered such one. You weren’t even sure this man before you wasn’t crazy.

You opted for the obvious; remain quiet.

He leaned a tad forward, just enough for you to feel the coldness of his presence on your skin. Your shoulders stiffened, almost shrinking back into your body. A lump formed in your throat and you fought hard to swallow it. You felt trapped, and in all honesty, you were.

He studied your features like an open book, his gaze dragging over each blemish and dip with clear precision, as if he did this kind of thing often.

You’d definitely have bruises on your chin if his nails added on any more pressure.

But his tone held more hostility than his touch ever could.

“What do you know? You’ve had my brother stressing all morning, ad’ika.” He hissed out, squinting at your figure. Maybe his cybernetic eye can read minds, you thought. Maybe it could see the quickening of your pulse or the dilation of your pupils.

Did he find this amusing? Certainly. But you were officially shitting yourself. Trembling in his hold. What did he want from you? Why was he so strange?

“I- I don’t know My Lord I-“

“Ah ah,” He tutted, easing his grip on you, “Don’t forget your manners, we only talk when talked to.” He taunted, abandoning your chin with a harsh tug. His knuckles moved to the side of your face, gently dragging over the skin before cupping it in his palm.

The contrast between his touch and his tone was giving you whiplash.

His face neared yours, until you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. Your eyes widened and your hands felt clammy against the soft fabric of your skirts.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard or seen, ad’ika,” He paused, his hand tilting your head until your gaze was locked with his, “But the moment word gets out, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it.”

“Wolffe?” His own voice called out, but from your far left. You didn’t dare to look away, too afraid he’d snap your neck with the lightest of touches. Gods, what did you get involved in? Why?

Wolffe was quick to retreat, leaving your stunned figure breathless on the staircase.

The Viscounts’ steps were light as he made his way over, eyeing his brother curiously. He was well aware of just how menacing Wolffe could be, and he did not wish for him to scare you so awfully.

“What are you doing, brother?” The Viscount asked, eyeing him up and down.

“Just familiarising myself with your new maid, Rex.” He replied, sending a nonchalant nod your way. The Viscount glanced between the two of you with a raised brow.

“By scaring her shitless, brother?”

“Precisely.”

The Viscount took a long inhale, staring his brother down. Wolffe didn’t back down, and the two remained motionless for what felt like an eternity.

And there you stood, watching like a bystander with tense shoulders and a rattled heart and a running mind. That Wolffe Lord was definitely crazy.

“It’s a good thing I’ve caught you doing this,” He paused, throwing a glance your way, “Or else someone would’ve suffered the consequences.” He continued, walking past his brother. He halted at the top of the staircase, staring down at your frozen figure.

“Let’s go, we’ve got things to do and places to be.” He said directly to you, brushing past you without another word.

Your mind seemed to be frozen as you remained in your place, looking up at the Lord. He returned the stare with a small smirk gracing his lips.

Damn, he was attractive. But awfully strange.

With a flutter of your eyelashes, you threw the Lord one last weary look, your hold on your skirts tightening as you turned and followed the Viscount.

The trek down was quiet, the two of you lost in your own thoughts. You weren’t even sure you should be conversing with the Viscount. Mr Owens would surely have your head for that. But how could he if he wasn’t around to see…?

Your mind kept wondering back to Lord Wolffe.

His character intimidated you, to put it lightly. His stare never relented even when his brother called out his name. He was interrogating you and was so keen and set on getting his questions answered. But you couldn’t. The Viscount would have your head for it.

However, he had impeccable timing, it seemed. Or Lord Wolffe has indeed done this before and the Viscount just knew.

You observed him, noticing how his blue and white armour hugged his body protectively. Beskar. Pure, expertly forged Beskar. Lord Wolffe was also wearing it. It was a symbol of the Mandalorians, though you weren’t aware of the Viscount and his brothers having any connection to the planet of warriors. What was he doing on the planet of Naboo?

You were the Viscount’s maid, and yet you knew so little about the man.

Where he was from, his age, his past, his favourite foods and favourite activities, even the place you were so urgently needed at right in this moment.

So, against your better judgement, you spoke up.

“My Lord?” Quietly, you asked. No response. Not even a hum.

“My Lord, may I ask where we’re headed to?” You tried again, watching each one of your steps. The Viscount didn’t look back, though his steps slowed.

“The Housekeeper didn’t tell you?”

“Mrs Opal?”

“Yes.” He replied, turning to face you as he stepped on the floor.

“She informed me that her and I would be visiting the village later on.”

“Well, we’re moving it to now. I’ve got other businesses to attend to later,” He was prompt in his response, and proceeded to walk towards the entrance of the mansion, “Inform her of the change of plans, will you?” He turned back to face you once more as the footmen opened the doors.

“B- But my Lord- “

“I’ll be waiting in the carriage.” He said nonchalantly, disappearing through the doors, leaving your gaping form in the hallway.

“What the-?” You questioned but shook your head. It seemed that there was a behavioural pattern between The Viscount and his brothers; so far, they all seem to be giving you whiplash. Their words and actions don’t match up, from what you’ve seen from two of them so far.

You were quick to inform Mrs Opal, though you weren’t quick enough to escape her confused frustration.

“He wants to what!?” She asked angrily as she wiped her hands on a dry rag.

“The Viscount insists on leaving for the village now.” You repeated, flinching as she tossed the piece of material to the side.

“That isn’t what we agreed on! He’ll have to wait, I need to change my skirts, I mean look at me!” She exclaimed, straightening her arms out and down, pointing at her clothing, “I’m drenched from head to toe.”

She let out a frustrated huff, before stomping out of the washrooms.

“Inform him he’ll have to wait; I cannot leave looking like this.” She sent you off with a glare, though you knew it wasn’t truly aimed at you. She knew you were just the messenger.

“Yes ma’am.”

With hurried steps you made your way back to the Viscount. The sun was shining brightly, the breeze cool against the humidity of the day. The sky was crystal clear, the grass an inviting lime green, and the carriage stood out like a scarecrow in a farmers field. It was a tall, mahogany brown thing with purple curtains and two horses. It was a bit too fancy to head to the village in, but it wasn’t up to you to decide.

The Viscount had a reputation to uphold, after all.

As you neared the carriage, you were ready to open the door to it yourself.

But the carriage driver beat you to it, and aided you inside with a practiced perfection. He did this on a daily basis, and yet it still took you by surprise when he asked to hold your hand, letting you use him as support to climb in.

The Viscount was already there and waiting, reading over some sort of pamphlet. His eyebrows were furrowed and eyes focused even when the soft click of the carriage door closing reached his ears.

“So?” He popped the question without ever drawing his gaze away from the words on the page.

“She said we’ll have to wait, my Lord. Mrs Opal was in the middle of washing up the cutlery when I told her.” Your voice was hushed, controlled as your body sunk into the seat, trying to take up as little leg room as possible.

The Viscount sighed loudly and placed the pamphlet down with a whack.

He knocked on the door; impatience clear as a vein popped out in his temple.

“Let’s go now!” His voice was raised, and a few moments later, the carriage slowly began taking off.

“My Lord? Aren’t we going to wait?” You asked, lifting from your seat. You moved the curtains away, peeking through the window and allowing some light to flood the carriage.

“No, I’ve got other businesses to attend to and I need you to be presentable by evening.”

“But what about Mrs Opal?” You paused, furrowing your brows, “I need to be presentable? Whatever for, my Lord?” You questioned again, this time turning your attention to the Viscount. His statement, once processed clearly, had caught you off guard.

With another sigh, he looked up at your staring figure.

“You’re my maid, you’re with me at all times,” He paused, raising his brows and tilting his head, “That means you will be accompanying me to the capital city, and to balls.”

“Oh.”

“And that means you need… New attire.” He continued, looking you up and down to emphasise his point.

“So, we’re going to a boutique, my Lord?”

“Yes, we are.”

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #captain rex x reader #captain rex #sw tcw #angst #clone wars #ct 7567 #fluff #commander wolffe #star wars the clone wars #clone troopers #regency era #jedi #sith #501st legion #501st battalion #clone wars 501st

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alamogirl80 · 6 months

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Chapter 20 "And I'll Follow the Light in You"

I dunno if anyone is still following this but here is an update. I'm still trying to wrap this up and had hoped to finish it before posting again. But then I saw how long its been since an update.

“You’re older than I thought you’d be,” he remarks. Rex makes an offended sound and Cody has to give him a look. Fox ignores Rex entirely, eyes never leaving Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan raises his chin a little, smirking. “Well, you’re rather gray for a 14 year old yourself, Commander.” Fox’s eyes narrow for a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “I like him, Codes. He’ll do.”

#star wars #the clone wars #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #captain rex #star wars fic #the clone wars fic #codywan au #and i'll follow the light in you #mel's fic #fic update #commander fox #bail organa #coruscant guard #212th attack battalion #clone wars #tcw

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fionajames · 5 months

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Tunnels

A/N: @transmascanakin this is for you, since I know you miss them so much! A tiny bit of Codywan! Please send requests people, I'm desperate!

Anakin shuffled closer to his former Master’s side as the tunnel ahead seemed to swallow them whole. The pair stood at the gaping entrance to a cave system that supposedly led right under the Separatists' base. Both the 501st and 212th’s troops were collected behind them, Cody and Rex murmuring worries to each other softly.

“Well, this looks cheery,” Anakin chirped, grimacing lightly as he moved his lightsaber in an attempt to illuminate the tunnel more.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan shot back, and somehow his sarcasm seemed even stronger than Anakin’s. The brunette looked instinctively to his other side for his Padawan. Usually she was by his side, or by Rex’s. Now, he remembered she was back at the Temple catching up on her studies.

“Let’s get going,” Anakin decided bitterly, signalling to the troops to follow him as he headed into the dark. Obi-Wan followed by his side, glancing around.

“This seems too simple,” Obi-Wan worried and Anakin rolled his eyes subtly. “Surely the Separatists know of a tunnel system right below them. It’s quite hard to miss.”

“The data we have suggests these tunnels are unstable and abandoned,” Anakin reminded him. “They removed them from newer maps as a precaution.”

“Still,” Obi-Wan continued, but didn’t speak any more. Instead, the men travelled underground in the dim area, time escaping them.

Anakin chewed on his lip as he turned another corner. He shivered as his body reminded him of the cold air they were surrounded with. Then, abruptly, specks of dust fell from above in clouds. Anakin coughed, waving at the cloud blindly.

“Retreat!” He yelled, realisation engulfing him. “Out! Get out!”

But he was too late, as the boulder in the roof above them collapsed inwards, separating both him and Obi-Wan from their troops.

Both men spluttered and coughed, brushing dust and dirt off of their faces. “Anakin?!” Obi-Wan called, blinking furiously as his eyes watered painfully.

“Right here, Obi-Wan,” Anakin managed weakly. He was collapsed by the tunnel wall, cradling his leg with a pained grimace on his face. Obi-Wan fell to his knees and scrambled to his brother, eyes widening as he saw the blood pooling around the brunette. “Leg got knocked.”

Obi-Wan cursed, activating his comm. “Cody? Commander, are you there?” He pleaded with the comm, glancing up for a moment in quick, silent prayer. Obi-Wan wasn’t much of a prayer, but now, in this war, they needed all the help they could get.

“Right here, General.” Even through his pained gaze, Anakin could hear the underlying fondness Cody spoke with, only to Obi-Wan. Anakin could hear the same tone when Obi-Wan spoke to his Commander. “Are you alright?”

“Anakin’s injured,” Obi-Wan hurried, glancing at the unnatural way his brother’s leg was bent. “We need a medic, fast.”

From the other side, Anakin and Obi-Wan could hear faint, muffled coughs and the sound of scraping. Cody’s voice came through the comm once again. “The boulder won’t move.”

Obi-Wan grit his teeth, stepping back. He outstretched both hands, calling the Force to his aid. The invisible energy wrapped around him like a gust of wind, and pushed the boulder with it. The boulder didn’t even budge, even as Anakin joined in.

It wasn’t moving, now or any time soon.

“We’re not keen to use rocket launchers with the unstableness of everything,” Cody explained further, and he too sounded anxious. “Have you got your lightsaber, perhaps you could cut through it?”

Obi-Wan grinned, muttering something before glancing around for his weapon. His briefly hopeful expression fell when he couldn’t spot it. He ignored Anakin’s scoffs as he grabbed the brunette’s lightsaber instead.

Activating it, a small part of Obi-Wan’s unease melted away, soothed by the comforting blue glow. He basked in it for just a moment, closing his eyes for merely a second to breathe. He plunged the blade into the rock, grunting as he pushed it further in. But the rock was solid and strong, and he couldn’t even get the whole blade in without too much strain.

“See anything on your side?” Obi-Wan huffed into the comm.

“Nothing, sir,” Cody replied and Obi-Wan groaned in frustration.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan decided after a moment. “We’ll wait here, set up camp perhaps. I’ll scout the tunnel ahead, see if I can see any light.” He paused, before remembering. “Is my lightsaber there?”

Cody didn’t respond immediately, the sound of faint voices echoing through the comm. “Yes, sir.” Cody replied, slightly exasperated. “We’ll try to move the boulder, you rest.”

Obi-Wan didn’t protest any more, knowing Anakin needed his attention. He turned to the brunette, who was biting back tears, almost literally. The ginger settled next to him, examining the injury, although he refrained from touching it. “Looks broken,” he murmured, concern lacing his words like silk. Anakin grunted. “Really?!” He snapped. “I thought it was just a scratch.” Obi-Wan raised a brow and Anakin sighed. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” Obi-Wan whispered, reaching up and running a hand through his brother’s hair once, scratching his scalp soothingly before standing up. “It’s not bleeding too bad.” It was true, the wound had stopped bleeding. “I’m going to go look at the tunnel ahead.”

Anakin sat up abruptly, blue eyes wide. “No, please!” The older turned to him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Stay.”

Obi-Wan was about to protest when he locked eyes with the younger. Pain and frustration swam blue in Anakin’s eyes, but not just those. There was a sense of loneliness and desperation too.

“Alright,” he murmured, settling down beside him. “Just for a few minutes.”

Anakin leaned against him, head dropping to rest on Obi-Wan's shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut contently, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Neither moved, warm sleep capturing the brunette. Obi-Wan smiled, wrapping an arm around his brother.

They would be alright.

Requests, please!

Love y'all!

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inkformyblood · 6 months

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i would know you anywhere (CWFKB #10)

Kissing Through Smiles @codywanfirstkissbingo Modern AU, University Graduation

“Cody!”

Rising on his toes at the call of his name, bracing his elbow against Rex’s shoulder in order to steady himself and ignoring the grunt from the other man, Cody peers over the crowd. The majority are dressed in the dark robes of graduation, flashes of colour and pattern from the clothes of their visitors, but Cody could pick Obi-Wan out in a concert crowd of thousands. The other man has braced himself against one of the lampposts in the corner of the square, waving his arm frantically in the air.

The dark robes look good on him, hanging open except for the thin golden chain at his neck that holds it closed at the top. Beneath it, Obi-Wan wears a crisp white shirt and Cody bites back a laugh in recognition. He knows that shirt well, Obi-Wan had been frantically ironing it earlier that morning, the small board balanced across the back of the sofa as it had been one of the only clear spaces in the flat, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he worked. Cody hadn’t been in much of a better state, having lived in the same hoodie and trousers for the previous week while his final exam had drawn ever nearer, but he had still kept out of the way of both Obi-Wan and the trailing cord while he cooked them both breakfast. It had been nice, domestic almost, bringing back memories of when Cody had still lived in his childhood home without such mundane concerns like rent and groceries.

“Obi-Wan!” Cody waves his free hand, leaning more fully onto Rex to do so. Rex, a begrudging support, snaps something up at him that Cody doesn’t bother to listen to, and widens his stance to better support Cody’s weight. He drops down after another moment, luxuriating in the way Obi-Wan’s grin had impossibly brightened even more after seeing him, uncaring that his own smile is beginning to cause his cheeks to ache. He’s happy, deliriously, utterly happy.

Jango chuckles, his back pressed to the broader one of Seventeen, using his bulk to hide the trailing smoke from his cigarette as he breathes in and then out. “You don’t need to hang around us all the time. I’ve got more than enough sons to be paternal to today if you want to go see your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Cody informs him, casting a glance at his smoke that Jango ignores with the same ease Cody has inherited.

“Life partner then. Now, off you go.”

Cody isn’t about to let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers so he brushes a kiss against Jango’s cheek and darts out of the close circle of his brothers and away across the crowded square. He twists around the other groups, careful to keep his shoulders in check and try to make his way across to Obi-Wan as unobtrusively as he could, but he doesn’t know how successful he was. A scattered handful of glares pierce his back, a few exclamations of annoyance, but none of that matters as Cody reaches Obi-Wan, his hands already extended to help Cody up onto the pedestal of the lamppost next to him. His skin is warm, his hands rougher than Cody would have expected still given the purely the academic lean of his course, and Cody wraps an arm around his shoulder as Obi-Wan’s grip falls to his waist, holding him securely.

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his nose bumping against Cody’s as they centre themselves on the limited space.

“Hey.” Cody pulls in a breath through his teeth, tasting the sharp artificial scent of Obi-Wan’s shampoo — borrowed from Cody’s apartment and he’d never considered the impact of smelling something so familiar on someone else — and the rich scent of his cologne. There’s a faint sheen over his collarbone from it and Cody presses his cheek against Obi-Wan’s, hugging him tightly. “I thought you would be with your family.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, his breath warm against Cody’s cheek as he leans into his hold. “Grandfather is busy conducting a tour. I believe the student guide originally assigned the role is receiving quite the education on the history of the place, and Qui-Gon is joining him to reminisce about all the hijinks he has gotten up to. If we can make it to the ceremony without another feud erupting, then I will count the day as a success.”

“Such a low barrier for success,” Cody teases, drawing back slightly. He doesn’t move far, can’t with their limited space beneath their feet and, even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. The future that had been looming is barreling them towards them, both fragile and wide-eyed in the headlights. “Though I can’t say my classification is going to be any better.”

“Yes. It did make you easier to spot.” Obi-Wan leans back, waving once more to the huddle of Cody’s family. Cody looks as well, he can’t pick out individual features from this distance but he can make out the uniform shade of their skin, the majority dressed in pale coloured shirts and dark trousers, and the dark colour of their hair. They stand out and Cody grumbles something into Obi-Wan’s collar. “Rex is shouting something to you.”

Cody, reluctantly, looks.

“I’m going to kill him. Obi-Wan, let me down.”

Obi-Wan bites the tip of his tongue as he fights back his laughter, his shoulders shaking. His grip tightens on Cody’s waist, keeping him close. “We could always… follow his suggestion? If you’d like.”

Cody straightens. He feels like he isn’t breathing, like he hasn’t taken a full breath since Obi-Wan first called his name and he surged across a courtyard to reach his side. “If I’m kissing you, it’s because I want to. Not because of my brother’s suggestion.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Obi-Wan grins and lowers his mouth to Cody’s who is also unable to stop smiling. The angle isn’t right, the tilt of their heads restricted by their close quarters, but they laugh together, kissing in the sunshine. The future can wait for a little while longer; they’re together here and now.

#codywan #star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #cody x obi wan #my writing #cwfkb2023 #codywan first kiss bingo #fanfic

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cluelessgurl · 1 year

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Give In

A/N: Okay so I have not written something this long in a hot minute sooo... please ignore any mistakes or let me know and I will fix them. I wrote this after listening to a couple of songs and then got inspired mainly ‘Shameless’ by Camilla Cabello if you want to listen to it I’d recommend towards the end . lmao enjoy :)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Female Reader

Warnings: A bit of fluff, a heap load of angst, long separation, reunion and implied smut.

Words: 2.6K

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Your whole life, you’ve known him. The day that you first laid your eyes on the Jedi temple, you laid eyes on him. He remembers meeting you a few weeks after arriving at the temple himself, you timidly peered at him whilst slightly hiding behind your masters robes. Master Windu never really approved of him from the start yet, Obi- Wan thought it wise for him to make friends and be among his peers at the temple, so your master hesitantly obliged.

‘My name's Anakin, what's yours?’ he enquired trying to conceal his own shyness with a grin; he never really spoke to many pretty girls back at Tatooine let alone at the temple. Ironically, you thought he was rather confident for a young boy, which encouraged you to match his grin ‘I’m Y/N, nice to meet you’. Anakin now smirked and held out his hand, which you shook ‘Y/N..I think we’re going to be great friends’.

Little did you both know that your friendship would blossom even further. Further than the boundary of the code would ever allow. It’s a bit trivial really, how could your masters let the two of you grow together, become a constant in each other's lives, until it really became one life shared by two souls and not expect an attachment to form. Years of training, shedding laughter, tears and blood in missions. So much so that you anticipated every move and very word the other would conjure in their mind. Yet both of you remained utterly clueless of the brewing sense of affection that swelled in your hearts since the days you were mere padawans sneaking out at night to stare at the Coruscanti stars in the courtyard to Jedi knights fighting for each other’s lives in the frontlines of the battle against the Separatists.

‘ANAKIN!!’ you didn’t care if you were in the line of fire right now, you could not give a damn ‘R-Rex I need you to handle this please, please’ you voice trembled as you spoke into your comm ‘Yes Sir’ he knew you had just seen him cornered and shot down, he knew you needed to be by his side. ‘Anakin you need to wake up right this second’ you controlled the tears brimming in your eyes, not daring to let even one shed because if you did you had accepted the worst. ‘Anakin GET UP’ you uttered firmly, shaking his form on the rocky floor continually for what felt like hours. He made no attempt to move or even open those blue eyes of his so you closed your own. Finally, the tears shed down your face, you laid your head on his chest trying to hear his heart ‘A-Anakin stop this please.. Just stop’ you spoke between sobs his life force was nowhere to be detected ‘I cant feel you! Stop please don’t do this to me’ ‘I CAN’T FEEL YOU’ you bellowed into his neck repeatedly.Throughout the years of fighting in this godforsaken war you had faced torture by the hands of your captors time and time againbut this, this was something beyond any pain your body ever was built to withstand, this felt as though your own heart didn’t beat, given the choice you would endure years of physical torture by the cruelest hands over this. This was pain that struck from the tip of your feet to the top of your head, rippling again and again. You gripped his arms and held them as tight as a rope and sobbed as you shook vigorously , strands of his long hair on his limp head now shaking too. ‘ I refuse to live knowing I failed to save you! I refuse’ you didn't want to face not having the opportunity to hear his voice dampen the dark thoughts you carried in your head, not being able to see his signature smirk that you had found so annoying before but now when you look back on it, you remember how his eyes at the corners of his face would crinkle when he would smile or smirk, how his presence was the closest thing you had ever felt to home so warm so soothing, how you loved the sound of his laughter especially if you made it happen. No. No. You could not give in to this, this can't happen. You forced your pained body to sit up, your knees now cut up by the shards of rock and shrapnel now pushing into you knees as you bent, forcing all the pain behind you closed you tear soaked eyes and called out into the force and pulled each and every corner of its unfathomable depth and did your utmost best to soak it in and push it out towards Anakin’s body. It was the greatest plea for mercy you had ever attempted, it had to work. It has to. He’s the chosen one, he’s the order’s most powerful, he’s the most valiant knight in this war…he’s your Anakin .It has to work.

The silence that followed was deafening despite the marching of the droids and the yelling of your troops in the background. It left your chest heaving. He made no movement. You tightly shut the lids of your eyes, gripping your hair so hard it might rip out and turn your head facing away from his form. But- but you had felt the exhausting intensity of the force within you, so much so you swore you felt your own life force being pulled towards him like strands of thread being ripped from cloth. You swore you felt it.

Just as more tears flew out your lids, you were forced to turn your head in a flash. You felt a grip on your arm. ‘Y-y/N..’ his timid voice uttered from his bleeding lips. You felt as though you had regained your ability to breathe ‘Anakin.. You’re really here? That's you right?’ There was a moment of silence as he found his words, finding it difficult to move much until he spoke again ‘Well who else would it be?’ he spoke sarcastically. How he’s able to maintain his humour in a moment like this is truly beyond you . You bitterly scoffed ‘Guess your sense of humour survived’ you smiled through your tears just glad to see his own toothy grin etched on his scarred face ‘You’re no where near funny though, I’m sick of the stunts you pull’ ‘Y/N’ he interrupted but you continued ‘I swear to the maker I’m so done with you’ ‘Y/N’ I’m telling the council to keep me away from you’ you rambled ‘Y/N listen to me!’ ‘What?!’ you replied frustrated as you finally found it within yourself to look him in the eyes, you immediately melted. ‘I’m in love with you.. And you’re right I’m stupid for waiting this long to know it and letting it get this far, I felt your pain, I felt everything and I still feel you within me I think I always will, I don't ever not want to feel it again, I’m so utterly in love with you’. As soon as he finished, you did not leave it even a second to give in, give into the urge you both knew you nurtured over the years and you kissed him, it was the most beautiful culmination of the closest bond Y/N and Anakin had ever had, they were finally one. It was soft and tender, both their bodies intertwined ‘I love you too, more than anything or anyone in this whole galaxy, I love you’ you breathed out. The biggest smiles that had ever decorated their faces, hands tightly held. Their love was not bound or complicated anymore.

Until it was. ‘Jedi Knight L/N, step away from Skywalker immediately.’ the sharp voice of your master tore through your ears. You looked up to see him and Master Kenobi looking down at both of your figures tightly woven. Rex must have called for back-up as soon as you told him to take over, knowing the battle was too much for the troops to handle alone. Both you and Anakin had been so immersed in one another you had not felt the familiar presence of your masters, but both of you knew that they had witnessed your admission of love. All of it. ‘You both have disgraced all that the Jedi Order stands for, you have acted selfishly, unrepentantly indulging in the apparent attachment you have formed, almost jeopardising the Republic and the war.’ As their harsh expressions stared at you, you both peered at each other, looking into his deep blue eyes whilst Anakin focused on yours.

And that was the last time in a year you had seen them and he had seen yours. They told you that you should be grateful that you had not been expelled, that you should be grateful that you had been forgiven. It didn't feel like a relief, it felt a punishment. The most cruel one at that. Never had you been kept apart like this, the first separation you had faced since your padawan days, like a tree torn from its roots. The council kept both of you busy with one gruelling mission after another consecutively, systems apart.

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After a particularly harrowing mission from Hadros the Republic frontier, Anakin was finally sent back ‘home’ to Coruscant. The war seemed so mechanical now. He felt no different than the droids, sent to fight as though it was automated. What was the meaning of it all if you were supposed to fight for it but not care for it, no attachments. His head reminded him yet again. Obi- Wan insisted he sympathised with him yet he had drilled this further into his mind after.. He didn’t let his mind wander to her. It was too painful. Ever since that day on the battle of Caraxes, where you brought his essence to life, he had felt a tight tether to you. He meant what he said, he felt everything she had felt, her pain, her tears. He believes the force has tied a knot, intertwining him and you. A part of Y/N in him. He swears sometimes, he hears whispers of your voice in his mind when he’s in pain, which has only happened more now that he's kept apart from you. He shuffled restlessly in the bed of his quarters, sleep has not been a familiar friend of his, your memories on the other hand, had been. He needed to attempt to control his qualms so he decided to take a familiar walk in the temple, in the quiet safety of the night.

Your ship the Custodian, had just arrived back to Coruscant deep into the night after it had sustained unmanageable damage. This particular battle had taken a heavy toll on your troops and especially on you. The war had caused so much loss, and taken too many lives. This battle had taken the lives of a large part of your troops, their deaths had hit you to the core of your being. Death ever since Caraxes, had the most scarring effect on your mind, every death you witnessed, was a callous reminder of him.. his memories constantly haunted you. Coming back here on top of the heavy feelings you carried was inexplicably painful. The temple carried far too many memories you two had shared. Joyful ones, a stark contrast to the memories you had made since the day you parted. Your mind felt so burdened by the past year and this mission that your mind was brimming with dark thoughts.You needed a release, you felt yourself wanting to cry and so you found your feet wandering to the familiarity of the temple courtyard. It was a stormy night filled with lighting and relentless rain, which is rare for Coruscant, ‘but I guess that conceals the very obvious tears falling from my face’, you pondered, ‘At least the maker has shown mercy’. You found yourself in the centre of the courtyard, pulling your lightsaber out to release some tension by training, it's the nearest thing to a distraction you had found along the way. The deep blue hue reflected on the drenched ground, as your tunic became further damp. The swift, violent strike of the saber whooshing against the whistling wind. Your wet hair swayed messily, tears mixing within the rain as the force grasped for your attention. You swore you felt his presence, but you dismissed it as a cruel deceit of your mind. It had been tormenting you with his voice every now and then, almost taunting you for being torn apart. You continued.

Anakin paced, evidently on edge as the rain poured and the wind roared, his eyes roamed aimlessly until a clear blue hue similar to his own in the distance caught his eye. He felt himself impulsively walking towards it with no care for the rain that now dripped down his face and soaked his battle-worn armour. He wandered as slow as his legs would allow, scared to face the possibility that his mind had yet again betrayed him. Yet when his eyes fell on her figure, skillfully striking her saber just the way he had become accustomed to all these years, he stopped dead in his tracks, she was beautiful. Although his mind should be racing with thoughts, her being in such close proximity to him quietened every thought he had plaguing his mind in the past, he became focused on the present, a present with her, as he yet again made steps towards her .

Shivers envelop her, as his hands slowly ghost down her arms. A soft stroke, that both could never allow to be a mere memory. Y/N let out a hushed gasp, goosebumps appearing as her eyes closed, soaking in the feeling of his touch. He had been deprived of her and now as he heard her gasps under his touch he was desperate to hold her in his arms as close to his firm as physically possible. His mind wandered to avenues they had never dared venture to, it was a cavernous desire forged by his relentless yearning for her. It became explicit to her that his mere presence was intoxicating, the type of intoxication that forces one to relinquish any morals, any code that confines them. She turned to face him steadily, looking at his eyes, still the familiar blue that reminded her of home, but darkened with thoughts she wasn’t trained to comprehend. After a distance of systems, now remained inches in between us, through the sound of the cracks of lightning that lit up both their faces in intervals and the heavy pattering of rain, the two could discern a dense tension in the air as deep, sharp breaths were drawn between them that could be felt on their faces. As she glimpsed at his rain dripped lips and he did hers both their voices echoed in the bond of their tied minds. ‘I want you to give in’. These whispers were electrifying so much so, that they both truly gave in, closing the gap that had been created in between by the same order that intertwined their souls from the first day they met when timid smiles were shared between the two. Now, their bond had grown far beyond the boundaries set as Anakin gripped her face with an unwillingness to ever let go again and clashed his soft lips hungrily against hers. Y/N roped her arms around his arms just as tightly as she had that day he almost left her side forever, making sure to never let go again no matter the order, the restrictions that had trapped them their whole lives. They both didn’t care if they were forgiven.

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flibbetygibbetsbro · 1 month

Text

Some people really liked it, so here is some more of my unhinged fanfic of keefe in the forbidden cities

The

kid had come out of nowhere and she managed to hit him with her bike. Shit.

…

"Holy crap, are you good, man?"

The boy she had hit blinked through his blurry vision to see a girl kneeling over him, her messy hair blowing in the breeze. All he could do was groan. His butt hurt. The boy tried to stand but only wobbled, nearly toppling over. The girl caught his arm keeping him steady, but that only seemed to make him woozier. His vision went blank.

"Wowsa, I guess you're NOT good then."

That was the last thing the boy heard before passing out.

…

Name. What was his name again? He couldn't remember. His head hurt. His heart ached. What was his-

Oh yeah.

It was Keefe.

He forced his eyes open to find himself laying on some sort of table and bench combo thinking in the shade of a gigantic oak tree. Keefe turned his head to look at the bench connected to the table. Why connect them? Humans are weird. As he studied the bench, his gaze was caught on a leg.

That leg belonged to a person.

Keefe shot upright, ignoring the rush of lightheadedness as his body tensed, ready to flee.

"Woa there, bud. Chill out. I'm not going to steal your liver," the blond girl next to him said. The reinsurance should have made him feel better, but the thing about the liver seemed very unessacy. It made his gut twist a bit, almost like she was going back on her word and stealing his liver right then and there. "So, uh, what's your name?" the girl inquired. She seemed a little shy, but not in the "omg you're so hot and charming" way he was more used to, but in the "I just carried you to a table in a park and now I have no clue what to do with you now" way. Keefe supposed he'd feel about the same in her place.

Keefes brain was so out of wack, he didn't even answer the girls question. He just looked at her blankly while his brain grasped onto the least important things. Like how she wasn't acting like most girls did around him. Maybe she was one of those people Sophie mentioned to him. What were they called again? Lemonon? Lebonan? No, lesbian.

Before he fully grasped what he was saying, he blurted out, "Are you a lesbian?"

"Nice to meet you "are you a lesbian"," she retorted dryly.

Keefe reddened and crossed his arms irritably. (GOSH his head hurt). "I don't need to tell you anything."

She snorted and smirked a little, "Well aren't you a salty little cookie." Keefe just stared at her confused. Did she just call him…a baked good? He was befuddled before, but now he was baffled. He may have watched humans before, but this was the first time he had actually spoken to him. Were they all this confusing?

"What?"

Keefe must have looked as baffled as he felt because the girl cringed slightly and seemed to shed a little bravo. "Sorry, I kind of forgot that you literally fainted, like, 20 minutes ago."

Wait, he'd been out at long?! "Wait, I've been out that long?!"

"Yep, you kinda freaked me out. I have a couple of friends that faint sometimes, but it usually isn't for more than a minute or two. You'd better get home and get something to eat."

"Oh yeah, I guess." Sweet, he could just walk away and everything would be fine-

"I'll walk with you."

Keefe bit back a curse. This weird human was making it VERY hard to be undercover. With a forced grin he hoped was charming (he probably looked like he was freshly done with his daily hair appointment…with the mouth of Verdi the T-Rex), he stood to leave and find a corner hidden enough to lightleap away. "Nah, I'm good, uh…" She never gave HER name either. "...cookie." Wow. That was smooth. (Not really).

As Keefe moved his legs to leave, everything went fuzzy for a moment before his vision cleared. Suddenly towering above him was the girl with the tail end of a shocked expression twisting into a mix of amusement and irritation. Realizing that he had fallen flat on his butt, he looked up at the girl a little sheepishly.

"You're "good", huh? Oh, and my name is Soda." Soda was worse than Cookie in keefes mind, but Soda dragged him to his feet before he could dwell on names for too long. "Come on, we're going to Subway."

…

Subway, as it turns out, was not an underground collection of dangerous human transportation, but an above ground collection of dangerous human food. Wasn't the ham Soda ordered made from pigs? Ew.

Soda turned to Keefe after she finished ordering her sandwich on the weird assembly line. "What do you want?"

Keefe tried to play it cool, but his nose wrinkled a bit when he mumbled, "I'm good."

Raising an eyebrow, she seemed ready to add a sparky remark, but she paused when she noticed the way Keefe kept sending sideways glances at the meat section. "Oh. You're vegetarian."

Before Keefe could intergect Soda had already ordered him a vegetarian sandwich. Keefe recalled that cheese was made from cows milk.

Ew.

The two of them sat in a corner booth. As Soda calmly ate her sandwich and drank her soda (was she named after drink of was it named after HER?), Keefe figeted and ignored his sandwich. The human emotions didn't make the world spin like it did when he first leaped, but his head still pounded and he had trouble focusing. Again, he found himself focusing on all the wrong things.

"Why do you have the same name as your drink?"

Soda smiled slightly (she was used to people asking about her name), but the way he phrased the question made her lips twitched downwards once. It was almost like he didn't know what soda was. Nah,that's crazy…

#Fair warning I didn't bother to do a proofread #if you want to hear more about their dynamic just send me an ask #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc fandom #keefe sencen #kotlc keefe

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isaut · 25 days

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𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓— f!reader x captain rex. 6.7k. ao3

coincidence number two: you're running errands. he's a civilian for the afternoon. previous. masterlist.

You make your reward purchases before your necessity purchases. They are of the same vein— the new lip gloss tube and new mascara will serve their purpose when your currents run out. The record you’d found at the vintage store was warm and vibrant, welcoming to the ear. They’ll stun and impress at the next cocktail hour you host.

It would have been a crime to part without it.

Just as it would have been a crime to not part with the extra gelato that hadn’t been on your grocery list, to have exited the grocery store without your arms over flowing with bags. Flowers spill from the top of one of them— pink and white and orange for your kitchen table. When you get home you’ll combine them all in one of those artisanal vases you’ve acquired from more flea markets than you can count.

Marauding as a civilian, Rex spends his afternoon off wandering the streets of Theed. He knows upon any close inspection he’s anything but, but the day is young. The sun is nearly high in the afternoon air, casting the streets in a harsh glow. The fountains trickle consistently, the water gleaming under said beams. Mothers sit on the edge of the stone, careful to not get their skirts wet, while their children run around.

The oncoming lunchtime is signaled by elderly folk dressed in expensive linens eating their lunch on the iron wrought chairs outside of their favorite bistros and cafes. Rex’s gaze lingers over their habits, over the way they seem so at ease with each other.

He’s not looking where he’s going.

With your gaze turned towards the sliver of sea visible through the buildings, you collide straight into an unfamiliar body.

“Oh! Pardon me,” you say quickly, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Rex says, voice melted by the late spring sun.

The sunlight illuminates Rex directly, making his hair seem blonder and his skin darker. His eyes are all amber encrusted, sparkling in the light. In turn, the sun has haloed you, showcasing your aura around your body, from the natural frizz of your hair to the bronzed shine on your shoulders.

“Oh.” “Oh.”

Rex’s brows pinch together in recognition, just as yours furrow. His lips form a perfect little ‘o’ as yours pull down on the corners. Surprise morphs to disappointment.

“You never called me,” is the first thing out of your mouth, once you recognize who you’re talking to.

“I–” Rex can’t seem to find the words. Have you always had a mole on your cheekbone? A trifecta of them on your shoulder? Rex clears his throat, snapping himself out of his reverie. It had been dark when he was with you last, after all. “I would, but comms are monitored at work.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that excuse,” you sigh.

“No, no, I’m being honest,” Rex says, all too quickly. He ignores the little voice in his head that reminds him that if he had wanted to, he could have easily arranged for a secret call. That he knows all the right people for that to happen. “Really. And work’s been real busy.”

You don’t look impressed. Your eyes rake over his body, both out of irritation and to remind yourself why you had been so keen on getting a call in the first place. “Has it been?”

Yes. There had been rebel groups on the Outer Rim that needed the Republic’s help with fending off the Separatists. Not only had Rex been off station, he’d been off communications with everyone. “I’m no liar.”

Your gut– which has an eighty twenty chance of being right– seems to confirm this information with you.

“No?”

Rex shakes his head. “If I’m bein’ honest, I’m not smart enough to be a liar.”

That has you twisting your lips to squash down a smile. Your gut, the same eighty twenty one, tugs and tells you that he’s lying about that one, though.

He’s cuter in the daylight, your brain supplies you with. Then: He didn’t call you.

“Well, I should get going,” you say, shaking your hair out of your face. “Um, it was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The words roll off Rex’s tongue before he can stop them. He calls your name after you, with a simple request: “Wait.”

Oh, he remembers your name. You turn your attention back to him. He’s caught it again. Your grocery bag digs uncomfortably into your arm.

“Let me get you lunch. As an apology for not calling.” His eyes seem softer in the harsh light, a please behind bronze irises.

“I have to take my groceries home, I have sorbet.”

Rex glances at your bags before coming back to your face. “Let me carry it for you, then.”

There’s a part of you that wants to put up a fight. Say you’re a big girl, that you can do it by yourself. That he blew it when he didn’t call you back. Instead, you feel something tug at the back of your mind. Something that you can’t quite place. So you sigh, so you shrug the canvas bag off your shoulder and pass it over to him. What harm can come? He’s already been there.

Rex accepts the bags as if they’re made of feathers. He adjusts them all to make sure he has a good grasp on everything. It’s all rather seamless. You linger to admire for a moment.

“After you,” Rex says.

The comment snaps you back to the present moment.

Your eyes linger on him one last time, before you adjust your purse and lead him down the cobblestone roads.

“So, what work have you been doing?” You ask, making quiet conversation as you walk.

“Classified information,” Rex replies.

You hum. “Communication is monitored, classified information… You must be pretty high up on the chain.” You lift your hand to eye level to demonstrate.

“I am,” Rex confirms. “‘S not much to talk about though.”

“Well, it sounds like you can’t talk about a lot of it.” Your voice is light at the comment. “So what can you talk about?”

Shit. What can he talk about? Rex thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “I guess not much.”

“Shame. What are we going to talk about over lunch?” You unlock the gate to the courtyard, then climb the stairs to your apartment.

“I’m reading a book on military strategy,” Rex supplies, watching as you unlock the door. “But I don’t think that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Does your whole life revolve around work?” You ask, posing the question once you’re in the kitchen.

Yes. As a matter of fact, it does. His whole reason for existing revolves around work.

The sorbet slides into an empty spot in the freezer. The flowers replace old ones in a vase. Your kitchen table has an open magazine on it and a data pad. It feels like only yesterday he was in here, and maybe that’s because yesterday he woke from a dream that took place here.

You’d made him coffee. Placed it in front of him with a kiss to his forehead. He woke to a battle alarm going off.

Lunch is taken at a little cafe with a white awning. You know the worker behind the counter well, enough to be on a first name basis with her, as you order. You know the restaurant well enough that you immediately head to the outdoor area, taking a seat so you’re still able to people watch and enjoy your company.

“You must go to lots of places all over the galaxy,” you note, watching as Rex pours water for you both.

“Nowhere too fun,” Rex says, taking his seat.

Unimpressed with the answer, you take a sip of water. “Where was the last place you went, then?”

Rex debates if it’s classified information. It’s already happened, it’s not as if he’ll be returning anytime soon. And either way, you’re a pacifist. Not like you’ll go running to the Separatists with old news.

“Ryloth,” Rex says. “What I was doing there, though—”

“Is classified,” you finish for him. “That’s fine. What’s it like?”

“It’s hot. Wet, too. Even in the desert. The atmosphere holds water in it like a sponge, so as the jungles produce water, it seeps into the atmosphere. And that’s how it rains in the desert areas and why it feels wet all the time even if it’s dry.”

“I didn’t take you for an environmentalist.”

“‘S just interesting.” Rex tries his hardest to downplay his knowledge.

“I think it’s interesting too. Two years ago we had a twi’lek from Ryloth showcase his work at the gallery. All of his art was drawn with the different clays found there.”

“There are a lot,” Rex says. Some of it is even flammable. He watches with rapt attention as you fumble around in your purse for your sunglasses.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, the sun is just really bright,” You say, holding them open and with the leg near your lips.

“We can swap spots if you’d like,” Rex offers in a heartbeat.

“No, no. I like the sun. It’s like I’m photosynthesizing.”

Rex thinks it’s an apt description. If you were a flower, you’d be the prettiest one. He doesn’t know much about botany, but he thinks you’re comparable to an orchid. Maybe the cattleyas, with their delicate, ruffled petals that match the flow of your hair. Or the oncidiums, which look exactly like women dancing where the blooms join together. Or even the laelias, with star dripped petals that resemble legs spread—

“I don’t get a whole lot of sun,” Rex says, stopping his train of thought.

“That’s a shame. Why not?”

“Normally on a fleet ship.”

You lean forwards. “What’s space like?”

Rex blinks. “Have you never been?”

You shake your head. “No.”

The idea baffles Rex. Only staying on one planet for an extended period of time? For a lifetime? It was unfathomable to him. Your food arrives, as he ponders over how different your life is from his. Then again, perhaps in a different life, he’d like to stay in one place. Especially if it was a planet as nice as Naboo.

“So, what’s it like?” You press.

“It’s… Well. It’s big. Really quiet.”

“What about the stars?”

“There’s lots of ‘em. Really tiny. Looks kind of like static.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “I’ve always wanted to get off the planet. I’d love to travel… My friends and I had a trip planned to Coruscant but we could never agree on dates to go.”

“Between you and me, it’s not all that exciting. I mean, it is exciting, but it’s… Loud. Visually and audibly.”

“We just wanted to go clubbing,” you confide.

Rex chuckles. “I stand corrected, you would probably enjoy it.”

“But honestly, the travel scares me. Hyperdrive? Terrifying. I don’t even like to go on the boats here.” The admittance feels silly. Who doesn’t dream of intergalactic space travel?

“Really?”

You nod seriously. “Nowhere I really want to go that I can’t get to on foot.”

Oh, that’s endearing. “And where do you usually take yourself?”

“Not many places I haven’t seen you at.”

Rex chuckles nervously. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m a creature of habit.”

Your eyes descend down to his plate— He’s barely touched his chicken and rice. It’s good, you’ve had it before. Not your favorite thing on the menu, it’s no pesto before you, but it’s good.

“Do you not like it?” You ask, gesturing towards it with your fork.

Rex glances down. “No, I do. It’s just… it’s too good.”

Normally too good implies that it’s deserving of scarfing down the first serving and savoring the second. You wait, expectantly, for elaboration.

“Compared to rations it’s… I don’t like to tempt myself. Remind myself what’s out there.”

You blink at him. “Really?”

“Makes it easier.”

Rex doesn’t do temptation. He doesn’t indulge in local meals filled with seasonings— the cumin and the masala that Jesse lunges after when he’s on a planet. Fried foods, fresh and sizzling and on a skewer are something that he watches, mouth watering against his will, while Fives and Tup eat as much as they can afford. He doesn’t do top shelf liquor, he doesn’t do liquor at all. He only drinks the beer that’s brought to him.

You think back to the conversation from last time. No pretty women. No art. Now, no food. No good food at least. You doubt military food is very good.

“I would have thought that you would want to indulge. Do you want to try mine?”

Rex also doesn’t do hook ups. Not typically. Not unless a mission’s gone really bad, not unless he wants to bury himself out of the pain only to lie in it uncomfortably. He doesn’t do coffees after, he doesn’t do run-in lunches.

“Sure,” Rex says. You push your plate toward him, and he reaches over and takes a forkful. Normally the motion is done over a steel table under fluorescent lights, when the rations are especially bad and it’s important to have everyone join in on the misery.

Once more: It’s too good— fresh basil and lemon. Rex shouldn’t have taken a bite. He wants another. He wants another.

“You should let yourself indulge,” you say, pushing your plate further towards him.

He takes another bite. “What are you doing after this?”

“Laundry,” you answer truthfully. “And then I was going to paint.”

“You paint?”

Before you can stop yourself, the words are leaving your mouth: “Do you want to come by and look?”

Rex needs to be back at base in two hours. He’s been entrusted by his General to escort Senator Amidala back to Coruscant. Then, he’s been entrusted by his General to get back on the battlefield, witness more death and destruction and lovelessness.

“I can spare a few minutes.”

Rex tries your wine before he leaves. The crisp notes dance along his tongue, citrus and gooseberry fermented to perfection. He takes one last bite of his chicken, moist and juicy, and rice, soft and flavorful.

The last time Rex had been in your apartment, it had been by the guidance of the moon. Then, scattered from the dutifulness of his mission with your groceries. Now, under the relaxed sunlight, he has a better view of the intricacies of your railing, the floral swirls soldered together. The fountain in the center of the apartment courtyard bubbles and flows. The mosaics of the tiles are clear in the light: blues, greens, oranges, stark against the light grout.

Your keys join the others in the little tray by the door. Your shoes come off, as do his, and the two of you head through your apartment. There are paintings Rex passes that he hadn’t recognized the last time he was here. Not that he was looking, by any means. His attention had instead been focused on you.

But the paintings. They’re watercolor and oil, still life and landscapes encased behind class in treated dark oak frames.

The doors to your balcony are open. Sea breeze filters up from the ocean through the doors, rubbing against the sheer curtains like a playful, large kitten. You get good sunlight in your apartment. It warms the room with both light and atmosphere, streaming in through the windows.

“Are you not worried about bugs?” Rex asks.

You turn around to face him. “Bugs?”

“Yeah. With the…” He gestures at the open doors.

“We don’t live near a swamp. And anyways, it costs too much to run the air conditioning.” You turn back towards the doors and head out through them, letting Rex trail behind you.

Suddenly a spark of nervousness crawls through you. You play with your fingers, glancing out over the quartier of Theed you live in. Then, you gesture towards your painting where it’s leaned against an easel with a now dry watercolor palette beside it, suddenly feeling silly. Why would some random man– because Rex is still some random man– care about your art?

“Well. This is what I’m working on right now,” you say.

Rex first notes the craftsmanship of the worn easel. The natural grains in it. The only metal being the small hinges. The painting, however, is another story entirely.

“It’s pretty,” Rex says. The watercolors are delicate dabs of life. You’ve captured what must be the sunrise over your little neighborhood view. The blue-hued warmth spreads over the delicate buildings, creeping over inked lines.

He doesn’t have much else to say. It’s pretty. The flowers are larger.

“It’s really pretty,” Rex repeats.

Your cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

You glance over at the painting, then over at Rex, hesitantly. His gaze slowly leaves the painting to meet yours.

“I wish I had better words to convey how pretty it is.”

You swallow under his gaze.

“Pretty is just fine,” you say, “I remember: no art. No pretty woman, no dancing either.”

Rex feels his face warm. The tips of his ears go pink. “There’s more to me than that.”

“I’m saying it as a reason why you can only describe it as pretty.” It, because you don’t want to presume he was talking about the painting. Part of you hopes that he wasn’t only talking about the ink. Part of you hopes he was also talking about you before him. “Do you want something to drink? I can make you espresso.”

Rex watches with rapt attention as you twirl a piece of your hair around your finger. He forgets, in his gazing, to reply.

“I also have limeade. That is, if you can spare the time.”

He can absolutely spare the time. “It’s whatever you want to make.”

You check the analog watch on your wrist. Delicate, your chosen color of jewelry.

“Let’s have espresso. I’ll make us double shots, it's just a little too late to take a nap.”

The prospect, the idea, of napping is a new one to Rex. He’s never had one offered to him, never seen one ever partaken in. Meditation over naps. One could sleep when they were no longer part of this world.

Sitting back at your kitchen table, Rex watches with great interest as you make the shots. You have specific mugs you let the brew pour into, and specific saucers you rest them on. From the pantry you receive two sweet looking cookies, setting them on the saucers.

Saucers in hand, you look over at Rex. His fingers are lightly feeling a flower petal between them, thumb rubbing over the soft, colorful leaves. Cut at their base to decorate the water vase, the monochrome flowers are a quiet accent to the brightness of your kitchen and the appliances within. You almost don’t want to disturb him.

“Let’s have them on the couch,” you suggest, voice as gentle as seafoam. Rex’s gaze immediately flits to you, his hand dropping just as quickly. You watch with fondness. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Rex says. “We don’t have plant life on the station.”

“I have more in the living room,” you say, tilting your head in the direction of the other room. Turning, you head there, letting Rex follow behind you.

The saucers are set atop mosaic tiled coasters on the coffee table. You busy yourself in front of the stereo, picking through albums until you find one for the mood, sliding the record from its case and resting it upon the disc. Acoustic bossa nova fills the room. Crossing the space, you cross your legs on the couch, letting Rex take the cushion right beside you.

Your knees barely touch. It causes your breath to hitch, just ever so faintly, in the back of your throat.

“It’s called a monstera deliciosa,” you say, in reference to the subject of Rex’s gaze: the large, green beast of a plant in the corner of your living room. It’s almost too big for the space, despite the fact that– “It won’t stop growing. I keep having to cut off leaves and propagate them for my friends. Or I leave them in cheap little pots on the side of the road for people to take.”

Rex looks at you from over the espresso cup.

“It just won’t stop growing,” you say.

Rex doesn’t know exactly what to say. You must love it a whole lot seems a little too personal. Seems a little too on the nose. It’s pretty seems overused, but it’s what comes out of his lips.

The giggle that escapes you is one you can’t help. You cover your mouth with your hand, holding the sweet little cookie between your fingers. Your hand had originally been on a path to dip the treat into your coffee, but the detour was needed.

“She is.”

You take a bite of the cookie.

“You must love it a whole lot,” Rex says, letting the comment bubble up through him.

Glancing over at the plant, you take her in for a moment. All green stems, fanning leaves with teardrop holes in them, as if gravity was pulling them open.

“I’ve had her since I was in school,” you comment.

Rex reminds himself that it’s a normal thing to go to school. That not everyone is plucked up from a young age to undergo various trainings and trials to make them soldiers– peacekeepers.

“What did you go to school for?” Rex asks.

“Art history,” you say, still looking at the plant. Then, you look back to him. “Then back again for Gunganese art history. And then again, one last time, for a focus on art during the Suffering Period.”

Rex nods.

“Someday there will be an art historian who will study all the art made now,” you note.

“And what do you think she’ll notice?”

Humming, you ponder over the answer. You take a final sip of your espresso. Lean back against your couch. Gaze up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Rex studies your profile like this hypothetical historian will study the present.

“I think she’ll think it’s interesting how war is portrayed,” you finally decide on, turning your head to face Rex. “But we don’t have to talk about that.”

“We can, if you want,” Rex says.

Your eyes flit down to glance at his hands, then back to his face. “Have you looked at art recently?”

Rex has to take a moment to think. He finishes his espresso. “There are some pieces in the Senate building on Coruscant. I’ve never really…” Suddenly he feels embarrassed. “I’ve never really paid a lot of attention to them.”

“Are they boring?” You ask. Then, coming to your own conclusion: “I bet they are. All the good art on Coruscant comes from the lower levels.”

“I thought you’d never been?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve acquired art from there. It’s all so… If it comes from the upper levels, it’s too perfect. The stuff from lower tells a story. There’s real emotion there.”

“How come?”

You shrug. “No idea.”

Rex nods. “I have a brother who likes art. He draws on napkins and stuff.”

“With a pen?” You ask, a little surprised.

Rex nods again. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know they had those on ships,” you say, the words leaving your lips before you realize how ignorant you must sound. No reason not to dig the shovel in a little deeper. “I thought everything was done with holograms and screens.”

“Yeah,” Rex chuckles a bit at that. “Most of it is. At least ninety-eight percent of it. The other two percent is Tup drawing.”

“He must draw an awful lot to make up for two percent of all the activities up there.”

We all have our hobbies would be a lie. “He doesn’t get a lot of sleep. Or, he doesn’t get as much as he should.”

You rest your arm over the back of the couch, head against your knuckles and shift your entire body to face Rex. “That’s kind of the essence of art, though. Finding time for it no matter what. I bet she’ll be studying whatever she can find of his work.”

Rex doesn’t mention that it would all look like he’s drawn the same person over and over again. Instead, he mirrors your position.

“Really?”

You nod. You glance at his chest, then back to his face. “Yeah. I’m almost certain of it.”

Rex moves his hand to rest on his knee.

“Do you like my living room or my patio better?” You ask.

“Hm?” Rex’s eyes seem to go into focus again, as if you’ve called him back to the present.

“Do you like my living room or my patio better?” You ask again, no hard feelings.

“I think they both have their own pros,” Rex says.

“Do they have cons?”

“No,” Rex says, quick to shoot that question down.

A smirk pulls up at the corner of your lips. Just barely noticeable. “No?”

Rex shakes his head. They’re not on a cruiser light years in the sky. They happen to be yours. Safe from the spoils, or lack thereof, of war. And he’s been enjoying his time with you. All two times he’s met you.

“C’mere,” you murmur, reaching your hand out for him. Your fingers are just out of reach of his collar. “Did you know that coffee is a slight aphrodisiac?”

Rex takes in your lidded eyes, your widening pupils. “Only slight?”

Your gaze dips to his lips, his collarbones, his eyes.

“Only slight?” Rex prods, leaning forwards. Your fingers catch on his collar, pulling him closer.

You nod. Rex doesn’t stop leaning in.

Rex enjoys himself.

He’s laid over you on your couch, leg slotted between yours. One of your hands is on the side of his face, able to feel his jaw work as his lips pass over yours. The wind brushes through your open balcony door, sprawling over his back. There’s slow, lazy music playing on your stereo, and your bodies move in time with it.

The urgency that Rex should be moving with is nowhere to be seen. His hips roll against yours lethargically, and one of your legs is thrown over his hips. There’s coffee and sweet cookie on both your lips, slipping and sharing between taste buds.

Each pass of his clothed and poorly concealed hardness causes gravity to pull your legs wider, the universe eager for your pleasure. It’s been years since you’ve indulged in the pleasures of the body while the sun was still out, and it’s better than you remember it being.

Perhaps it's because Rex takes up space. He consumes you, soap and faint shaving cream infiltrating your senses. You wonder if it’s too heady to be taken in the middle of the day. If you’re too grown, if that’s something that only teenagers do when their parents aren’t home.

“When do you have to leave?” You ask, pulling back just a millimeter from his lips.

Rex glances over at the analog clock sitting on your mantle. “Forty minutes.”

You place a hand on Rex’s chest, gently pushing him back. Rex slides back, sitting on his knees. Worry flashes in his eyes, brows furrowing.

“Gonna go grab you a condom,” you say.

Rex’s ears go pink. “Really?”

“Unless you have objections.”

Rex doesn’t have any objections. The only thing he can object to is the lack of time— only forty minutes. Less, truly, because he has to be walking out the door in forty minutes. Now, thirty-nine.

You return, little foil between your fingers.

Before you can sink to your knees between his legs, Rex’s hands are on your waist and maneuvering you to sit on the couch beside him.

Before you can question his actions, Rex’s lips are back on yours. His hand slides over yours, taking the packet from you. With his hand on your back, he gently lowers you backwards against the couch.

Bunching your skirt up, you expose yourself to him. Your panties are embarrassingly dark, damp at your core from just a little bit of kissing.

Rex has that look on his face, the one where his brows are pinched and his mouth is slightly open as if he’s both shocked and deeply appreciative to be in this situation. His thumb drags over the growing wet patch, and his brow furrows.

You’re shaven. Velvet soft.

“What happened?” He asks.

In turn your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re… You shaved.”

“I’m waxed.”

Rex blinks at you. You sit up on your elbows. “I went on a girls trip to the beach. So I got a wax beforehand. I got back in yesterday.”

It’s more information than Rex needs. He simply nods.

“What?” Insecurity begins churning in your stomach, taking over the heat that had been building. Rex’s eyes flit up from your cunt.

“Nothing,” he says, fingers dipping under the waistband on your panties. He slides them down, sighing upon seeing your exposed pussy. He’s missed this. He’s been thinking about it, been thinking about you.

You giggle. “Have you been?”

Rex’s eyes widen. “Did I say that out loud?”

Grinning, you nod. “Yeah, you did.”

A ruddiness fills Rex’s face as he flushes. “Didn’t mean to.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” you admit, though you feel your body warm in embarrassment at the statement. There was a reason you were so insistent to feel him inside you again.

Humming, Rex runs his hands on the insides of your thighs, pushing them further apart. “Really?”

You nod. You wrote about it in your diary.

Rex doesn’t share that he’s thought about you so loud it’s earned him more than one reminder about Jedi sensitivity from his General. The last being on an airship after a battle. General Skywalker had bumped him on the shoulder, mumbled that he could hear him.

He doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Rex’s lips glide over yours, his tongue dancing in the tang of your pussy. Your fingers rack over his hair, scratching at his head. His tongue swirls around your clit, lips closing in after it.

Essence escapes from your cunt, trickling down your smooth skin. Soft moans escape from your lips, floating into the warm air.

Your body hungrily accepts the finger that slides inside you. Sitting up on your elbows, you want to watch, watch this mysterious man who’d rather be on his knees at work. His brows are furrowed in concentration. You squeeze around his finger and he moans into you. You wonder if he’s also gotten ahead of himself, if his mind also races forwards, thinking about the next instead of the present.

It’s loud, all the slick and saliva swimming together. Rex’s tongue is dutiful and steady, his fingers working in tandem.

Rex’s eyes crack open to gaze up your body. He ends up meeting your heady stare, the rise and fall of your chest. He pulls away, his fingers still working in those easy motions.

“Come here,” you beckon, pulling the hemline of your shirt up to expose your breasts. You haven’t forgotten the array of hickies you were left with, the days of forgoing low cut tops.

Rex seemingly misunderstands, instead shooting straight for your mouth. He swallows a moan, one that bubbles out of you as his fingers continuously beckon your closer towards a climax.

A third finger slips inside you when his lips finally wrap around an under stimulated nipple. You groan through a bitten lip, arching your back into him, hips rolling into his hand. It feels good. So much better than your own. Thicker. Longer. Better reach.

Better than your friend’s slender fingers after a drunken dinner on the beach. Rex seems to remember you. Remember all the crevices inside your body, remember the basics of what you like. Like he’s been replaying that night in his head, like a poet and their haiku.

“Rex, please… Want you inside…” you insist through a sigh, squeezing around his fingers.

Rex lifts his head. “But you haven’t cum yet.”

Your jaw goes slack. Rex’s cock throbs at the plumpness of your lips, puffy from biting.

“It’s polite,” Rex elaborates.

“We don’t have very long,” you reply. “Next time you’ll call me and—” Your breath hitches as Rex’s fingers grind into you, curling upwards. “—and we’ll have more time.”

“Next time?” Rex likes the sound of that. He slowly removes his fingers, and brings them to his lips. It’s utilitarian, the way he’s after the taste. But he has to commit it to memory— He isn’t sure there will be a next time, that there will be a phone call. But now, the sun is soft and you’re sweet on his tongue and on his eyes.

You nod to answer his question. One of your legs slides off the couch as you sit up, grabbing the condom off the table.

“I wanna do it,” you say, eager to feel the weight in your hand.

Rex chuckles, enamored and a little self conscious, at your enthusiasm. His pants and briefs find their way onto the floor and he takes his shirt off for good measure too.

Your eyes linger on his dog tags, glinting in the afternoon light. Instead of calling attention to it, you take his cock in your hand, all warm and heavy, and swipe your finger over the head, through the pearly bits of precum crying there.

Rex gasps. His chest heaves, rising up and down as an arm stretches across the back of the couch.

You want to kiss it. Kiss the fat tip, let your tongue lace through the seam. But you had tried to earlier, wanted him salty in your mouth so he’d be relaxed, and had been, quite kindly, redirected.

So you pump him once. Twice. Three times for luck. The condom glides on, sucking against him. Almost too small.

Rex takes you on your back, with one leg lifted above his shoulder and the other hanging off the couch. His movements are shallow and even, pressing you further and further towards the armrest. His dog tags swing in your face and you’re caught with the unexpected urge to bite them.

Rex glances from you, out the open patio doors. A few birds flock along the horizon. The sun is setting. He sits back, hand resting on your thighs and watching intently as your breasts bounce with every thrust.

He glances over at the clock on your mantle. Fifteen minutes. He swears to himself. This is why he doesn’t like quickies— He wants to be buried in your warmth for as long as possible.

Taking his tags in his teeth, Rex leans back over you as his thrusts speed up and harden. You cry out in shock, though it quickly warbles into pleasure, as your core tightens in pressure and then suddenly, without warning, snaps. Your legs shake around him, pussy pulsing around his throbbing hardness.

Rex’s mouth opens in surprise, tags dropping. His hips slow as his attention focuses on guiding you down from your high, but you’re quick to shake your head.

“N-no, keep going,” you urge. “Want to feel you cum.”

“But—”

“No buts,” you breathe, hiking your hips up slightly. “Please, it’ll feel so good.”

Rex nods and pics up the thrusts again, returning them to his original speed, the one that had made you cream around him. Your hand travels between your bodies, fingers rubbing desperately at your clit as you feel a second, stronger orgasm approaching.

“I’m going t’cum again,” you warn.

“Fuck,” Rex swears, then quickly apologies. His hand finds purchase on the back of your thigh and presses you open, creating more of a stretch.

You swear this time, brows knitted in pleasure. With each thrust you can feel Rex’s balls, wound tight, slapping against you.

Without thinking, you clap a hand over your mouth as your second orgasm shakes through you. Rex ducks his head, chasing his own high in erratic throats before he moans directly into your breast.

You feel light, like you’re floating. Too light.

You’ve painted Rex’s groin and the v of his abs.

“Sorry,” you breathe.

Rex shakes his head, falling against you. His face rests in the crook of your neck. “Don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches inside of you.

You let out a breathless laugh. With gravity, your head turns to the side and you look at the clock on your mantle. Your cunt throbs around him, and he exhales sharply. There’s a little twitch in response.

Part of you, the dirty naughty part, wishes there was more mess to clean up. For Rex to dip his head down and lap through, for him to—

Your train of thought is cut off by a sudden yet slow loss. Rex eases himself out, hands on your knees. Immediately, your hole pulses at the sudden loss.

“Sorry,” Rex says, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Your heart, once more, flutters.

“‘S fine,” you murmur, tossing an arm above your head. The sun soothes over your body, urging you to close your eyes.

Instead, you watch as Rex disappears into your bedroom, then your bathroom, and returns with a warm washcloth.

It all feels so natural. Just like last time.

His hands are steady as he cleans you up and then himself. He tucks himself back into his pants, then his shirt, then moves to grab your underwear off the ground.

“Leave it,” you say softly. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Oh.”

You move your legs so Rex can sit back down on the couch, then you place them in his lap.

Mournfully, Rex replies with a hand on your shin, “I have to get going.”

“You sat back down,” you point out.

You’re right. He did.

Rex’s hand rests on the inside of your calf, rubbing softly. He bows his head, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of your knee.

“Poor baby,” you murmur, reaching to scratch your nails against his hair. Rex raises his gaze to yours. “Have to go back to work on such a beautiful day.”

The day is beautiful, Rex can agree. It’s gorgeous. Stunning. He presses another kiss into the daylight that streams across your skin.

“Tell me about the rest of your day,” you coo.

If you were a Separatist spy, you’re the best one they have. Rex melts into your words, crawls up your body to place more kisses against the soft skin.

“Just some escorting work,” Rex says. “Easy stuff.”

“No danger?”

“Shouldn’t be any.”

Rex hovers above you. Your lashes glide closed and then open as you gaze down Rex’s body before back up to him. You cup his face in one hand, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone.

“That’s good. Are you going to call me this time?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you promise?” Your voice is almost a purr, your thumb sliding down Rex’s bottom lip.

Rex nods. There’s a hypnotic rhythm to his breath. “I’ll call you. The next time I’m in Naboo.”

“You can send me a text, too.”

“I want to call you.”

You swallow.

“I’ll call you,” Rex promises. He lowers himself slightly, unsure if he’s allowed to get a kiss or not. This is a hook up, right?

Your lips meet his half ways for a long peck.

“Good boy,” you say against his lips.

Rex nods again. “I have to go.”

“I know.” Your breath mingles with his. “You don’t want to go.”

Rex shakes his head, agreeing with you. He doesn’t want to go. You press a brief kiss to his lips.

“I’ll hear from you soon.”

Rex nods. Slowly, he eases off your body, eyes leaving even slower.

“You don’t do this often,” you note.

“No, I don’t.”

You readjust your clothes so you’re decent again. Pantyless, but decent. You sit up on your knees, dancing your fingertips along his ears.

“I’ll walk you out,” you murmur. There’s a feeling in your stomach that he won’t leave on his own.

Rex stands, and your hand dribbles off him, landing in his own. He helps you stand, letting go as soon as you’re upright. It’s a careful walk to the front door, where Rex puts on his shoes and you don’t.

“Bye, Rex,” you say.

Rex returns the departing words, your name rolling off his lips. He turns, steps through the threshold, and heads down the stairs. He’s in the courtyard before you close the door.

#captain rex x reader #a lil fic update #by ophelia #rexlia #ive been sitting on this for so long i just was able to edit it :)#hope you enjoy !

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toska-writes · 10 months

Note

idk if u still take req, but i've been thinking purge trooper cody hunting child padawan reader who living with obi-wan in tattoine. it's like battle with himself rather than the two jedi, like yk trying to resist inhibitor chip. slight codywan will be cute

ignore this if u don't seems interested, thankuu for all u'r hardwork! i love every single of it!!

Purge trooper Cody on the brain! Did I stray a little from the prompt? Maybe-

“Dead of Night”

Could this be a follow up to this old fic (x) maybe but I’m not sure…

Summary: Cody tracked them down, spotted together were the 2 people that haunted his dreams. He was a good soldier, he had to be

Pairing: purge trooper Cody x GN!padawan reader (PLATONIC)

Warning: guilt hurt/comfort (that’s all I could find really but let me know if I missed any)

Word count: 1256 (not proof read at all)

Notes: I swear I posted this a few days ago, sorry for disappearing

This armor wasn’t his.

It sat wrong on his lean frame, heavier than the one before. Cody shook his shoulder out before slipping the dark helmet onto his head.

He missed his sunshine armor from so long ago.

If he thought ever so hard Cody could almost hear the faint laugh of once before while painting the sun burst on his armor.

These thoughts never seemed to stick around.

A blaster still hung at his hip accompanied by the unfamiliar weight of the eltro-shock staff many of the purge troopers use.

Unethical. Cody thought stomping down the halls the to docked ship waiting to take him away. The weight and feeling of said weapon made him sick.

The ship rustled under his feet during take off, so caught up in his thoughts the dread of this mission sank into his bones.

The sun never seemed more dull.

•••

Sand was everywhere. The sun radiated heat over the barren lands where a small house was situated. If you could even call it that.

Watching the twin suns set for the one-millionth time seemed always new and different. The warm colors filled your eyes and cover your skin in a honey color.

A chest plate was clutched in your lap. The names started to fade ever so slightly, but with the many times you’ve read over them the order was engraved in your memory.

As the suns took its last peak over the horizon before finally submitting to the darkness that bled into the cloudless sky, you spoke softly names names that were painted into the backside of the chest plate.

Starting with the familiar signature of your master and the commanders closely under his, ending with Trapper and the small name of Rex’s tucked into the corner.

From the front of the shelter you heard the calls from your master. The urgency in his voice made your blood run cold and to discard the piece of armor off to the side.

“Y/N” Obi-wan said once again as you stoped near his side, a comm was clutched tightly in his hand.

You nodded your head slightly in acknowledgement waiting for him to say something else.

“Comms and intel found an emperial shuttle inbound.” His tone was even and cold as it has been the entire time on this desolate planet.

“Is this worrisome?” The word master almost slipped past your teeth as you fought long and hard to break the habit for safety reasons.

With a sigh Obi-wan answered. “Not necessarily, it looks like it’s going to land near the town the check things out there.” He turned fully to you now placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“There’s nothing to worry too much about young one, but the village will be off limits until they leave.”

A weight was slightly lifted off your chest with his somewhat reassuring words. The slight shake in your hands were present while you patted your old masters arm.

This wasn’t easy on either of you. It never will be.

The brisk wind of the night rattled through your bones jolting you awake. It was new that it wasn’t a nightmare this time and for that you were thankful.

The soft shuffle of Obi-wan under a shear blanket was the only other noise you could hear besides your own breaths.

You knew he was a soft sleeper, now more than ever. But something deep within, long since been buried reignited.

A pull of something through the force while you tried to be rid of it never it truly seemed to be gone for long.

In the distance a small flicker of a light danced along the horizon. If it was a flashlight of some sorts it would imply that the holder was running.

The feeling again bubbled in your chest as you took a few steps out on the soft sand. One look over your shoulder showed your master still resting.

You couldn’t turn now. Whatever force god was watching over you wouldn’t allow it. The existence of fate was a touchy subject.

Strong winds continued to try and knock you down while you persisted through to whoever was on their way

Calls of your name was lost to the breeze in the dead of night. Oblivious of the man that followed you continued forward.

You stoped dead in your tracks while the figure approached further. The force surrounding this individual was sweet and familiar, normally lighting up your face with a smile.

Normally.

Something else, more complex and darker seemed to look around the edges but not close enough to deter you.

The man shook slightly from the spot that he watched from. You watched the twitchy movements as a hand flew too his blaster, but never touching it.

Instead another hand slowly reached for the dark helmet that masked him from you.

A ghost stood in front of you. Once you never thought you’d see again. The great maker above was clearly playing a sick twisted joke on you.

His name could barely form on you lips while taking a few steps back from the man you never thought you’d see again. The one that along with his brothers betrayed you.

You felt a shuffle to your side; the words “Drop your weapons’ rang out through the night from your master.

A blaster of his own didn’t shake. Stepping in front of you the sight of the man in front of you made your master take another look as well.

Obeying he threw the blaster that seemed to stick closer to him than any other trooper he started working with, and the foreign weapon that he didn’t want to be associated with anymore.

Dropping his helmet as well Cody fell to one of his knees, a hand came a cradled the side of his head.

Both you and your master were frozen where you stood. The cloudy eyes of yours tore through every defense that Obi-wan tried so hard to put up.

Through the wind the quiet cries blew to your ears. Your Cody was hurting; in more ways than one.

“Master” you almost begged as you both took a step forward.

Obi-wan tried so hard to keep the people in his life safe. Sabine, Anakin, Cody, and now you. Every buzzer in his mind was ringing saying this was a trap. That he should take you and run.

He was at the purge troopers side in a moment. Obi-wan’s strong embraced engulfed Cody and the weight crashed into him.

For months now this was all that he wanted.

Everything to be drowned out.

“Oh my love.” Was whispered slightly into his ear, Cody was quick to wrap his arms protectively around his general. The one that wasn’t going to get away again.

Cody’s cries became louder while another body wrapped around his shaking form. Weapons and enemies forgotten Cody let down all his walls and the floodgates opened.

“My head hurts.” Was the only thing Cody could get past his teeth and oh boy was it true. His own mind seemed to turn against him, to scream at him that he shouldn’t be doing this.

Good soldiers follow orders.

But even better ones protect those who stand besides them.

“We’ve got you now Cody.” Your voice flooded his ears, blocking out the screams of yours that haunted his every moment. “We can help you.”

Masked by the dead of night only tomorrow would they realized that another soldier went AWOL.

_____________________________________

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @ct-0113

#purge trooper Cody #star wars #star wars clone wars #the clone boys #commander cody x reader #cody x reader #codywan #Codywan x reader #reader insert #the clone wars #clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #clone boys

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glimmerglanger · 2 years

Text

Misinterpretation

Listen, sometimes you just want to write a very silly spicy fic about the most random things, like, I don't know, the fall-out from the Rako Hardeen mission.

And thus, this teeny fic was born. Featuring Anakin walking in on something he shouldn't, spice, silliness, second-hand embarrassment, etc.

~~~~~

The entire Hardeen debacle crawled around under Anakin’s skin, leaving him feeling furious. He tried to focus on other things, but each time he had to even look at Obi-Wan, it all came back, all the betrayal and the lies.

It ate at him, even after they got back to the Temple and Obi-Wan left to find his quarters.

Anakin ended up pacing around, unsettled, until he commed the Chancellor and realized he needed to go speak with Obi-Wan again, needed to make him understand the true cost of his actions, the repercussions his foolish little plan had on Anakin.

He strode through the halls of the Temple, heading for Obi-Wan’s quarters. He commed on the way, but Obi-Wan refused to answer. No doubt ignoring Anakin’s messages as another way to avoid the consequences of what he’d done.

Well, he wouldn’t be able to avoid it. Not this time. Anakin had talked to the Chancellor. He knew he was in the right, he had the moral high ground in the situation. Obi-Wan had frightened everyone, toyed with their emotions, thinking only of the mission--

Obi-Wan refused to answer the door to his quarters when Anakin rang the chime. Anakin could - vaguely - sense him inside, though his emotions were distant, cloaked. Obi-Wan was hiding from him in more ways than one, then.

Anakin ground his teeth together for a moment and then keyed an override into the door locks. He’d figured out the process long ago. It was impossible to tell when he’d need to get into Obi-Wan’s rooms, after all.

He stepped through the door and frowned.

He’d expected to find Obi-Wan in the main living space. Perhaps trying to meditate away his guilt or slumped into the couch in silence and darkness.

Instead, the windows in the main living area were open, allowing light to flood into the space. Obi-Wan was not visible. And it was not quiet.

“--can’t - ah - fucking believe - you did that,” Cody growled out, voice floating out of the door to Obi-Wan’s bedroom, ajar.

His voice sounded low - rough - and Anakin felt a swell of justified satisfaction inside his chest. Rex had seemed confused when Anakin told him why he was angry, but obviously Cody was furious, too. Cody understood.

Obi-Wan made a sound - probably in protest - but Cody cut him off as Anakin crossed the room, “Only you - ah - would have thought - fuck - you could pull - fucking hells - that off--”

Anakin felt his chest swell, preparing to push through the door and add his agreement to everything Cody said, before he noticed the…other sounds. It took him a beat - as he strode across the floor - to recognize the sound of flesh on flesh.

His pleasure immediately shifted. It was perfectly understandable that Cody would be angry, furious, even. Anakin felt that same rage. He wanted to hurt Obi-Wan, knew that Obi-Wan deserved - after that bantha kark - a punch or two across the jaw.

But Anakin had restrained himself, hadn’t taken a shot, and Cody had no right to put hands on Anakin’s old Master--

Anakin snapped, as he reached the door, hand going to his saber, “Take your hands off--”

He choked on his tongue, words strangling off, as he came around the corner and saw--

Obi-Wan was on his bed. So was Cody. They were - for a moment, Anakin couldn’t even make sense of what they were doing. Obi-Wan was--holding onto the slats of his headboard, on his knees, leaning forward. Naked.

He had his head--tilted back, neck straining, because--Cody had one hand buried in Obi-Wan’s replaced hair - Anakin had not managed to get a clear answer on how they’d gotten it back on his head - pulling hard, and he was--also naked, his other hand on Obi-Wan’s bare hip, squeezing hard as he--

Anakin heard a squawking, choking sound and realized after a horrified beat it had come from his throat.

Cody jerked to look at him; Obi-Wan tried, but his hair caught in Cody’s fingers, and he made a throaty, gasping sound that had Cody - terribly, horribly, why was Anakin still looking - slamming his hips forward, like some kind of automatic response, which lead to another sound from Obi-Wan’s lips--

“Get the fuck out,” Cody barked, all sweaty, sweet Force, why was Anakin still looking? “Now!” he snapped, taking his hand off Obi-Wan’s hip and reaching down to the blankets and kriffing hells coming up with a blaster--

Anakin scrambled backwards, tripping over his feet in the process.

“Cody,” he heard, as he stumbled across the floor towards the door. “I should--”

“I’m not done with you yet,” Cody growled, and Anakin wondered what happened if you poured bleach in your ears. “Do you know,” Cody went on, the noises of skin on skin resuming as Anakin threw himself at the door, “how fucking hot it is that you kicked--”

Anakin lurched out into the hallway, feeling like he’d just escaped orbital bombardment, heart racing, vaguely nauseous.

He needed to speak with Obi-Wan more than ever, but, he acknowledged, lurching down the hall, it could probably wait…at least a few hours.

#codywan #hardeen fallout #SPICY #very SPICY #folks i ALMOST called this OPSEX and i feel like that should tell you what you need to know about this #i needed something silly after haunt me then #team obi-wan did nothing wrong

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littlemissmanga · 1 year

Text

The Daimyo's Princess

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Worn down reader, slight insecurity if you squint, elements of a Dom/Sub dynamic but just a hint/talks about “punishment” but no details.

w/c: 1,323

Clone x Reader Bingo Square: Tattooine @clonexreaderbingo

Previous Squares: Don't Forget That / Rex (18+) / Mechanic

Summary: The day had drained you in the worst way, leaving you exhausted and restless all at once. Now, all you wanted was the comfort only found in the arms of your Daimyo. But Boba Fett is still occupied by his responsibilities, holding court from his throne. Do you have the courage to take what you need, or will you suffer in silence?

You can't wait.

You know you should, but it’s just not possible right now. You have been feeling unmoored all day. Your skin tingles with need as every atom feels like it would fly away if not held firmly in place.

And there is only one person you trust to do that.

But today’s session of petitions seems unending. You try listening from the back corner, not wanting to disrupt the natural flow of procedure and hoping to keep yourself occupied with the politics of it all. At least until the blessed moment Boba would dismiss the crowd and you could approach him.

It’s a strategy that worked before. But the monotonous prattle from the clear social climber — a merchant looking to establish a foothold in Outer Rim — did little to distract you.

Not when Boba sits sprawled out on his throne, claiming every inch of the chair the way he claimed everything in life.

Including you.

What had started as just a job — administrative work for the new daimyo of Mos Espa — quickly became a passion project in the truest sense of the word.

Your composure and mindfulness as you skillfully kept the palace running smoothly impressed Boba Fett. When your fiery nature and flirtatious quips were met with amused chastisement, it didn’t take long for admiration to evolve into affection on both sides.

Once Boba becomes attached to something, no force in the galaxy can make him let go. The minute you assured him his affections were returned, that you wanted him as he wanted you, you became his.

He made sure everyone in the palace, employees and guests, knew that you spoke with his voice. Your authority was his authority. The only person you submitted to in this realm was the king himself.

But you had never been so bold as to claim the throne. And in this moment, that’s all you want — to claim your throne on Boba Fett’s lap as he sat and doled out judgments from his.

A million and one logistical errors had surfaced that morning, pushing your drive and creative problem solving to their absolute limits. Now, your mind is drained, exhausted and blank even as your body thrums with adrenaline and unresolved tension.

Something needs to be done. Or else you fear you won't be ablt to control how you’ll react to the next provocation.

Slowly, you move along the sides of the room as far as you could, passing the line of petitioners as you went. You keep your head level and your gaze lowered. Not to the floor like a slave — nothing would infuriate your Daimyo more than you subjugating yourself like that publicly — but a respectful mid-level, which also affords you freedom from meeting any offended gazes.

“Who is that?”

“How rude!”

“Does she really think the Daimyo will be fooled just because she cut the line?”

Each whispered outrage is a knife in your heart. You only hope they are quiet enough not to travel to Boba’s ears. You don't want to dishonor him, or the guests of the palace. But you need him.

“There is no shame in admitting a weakness and taking what you need. The only shame is in continuing to hurt yourself and others out of pride.”

That lesson had been hard-learned early in your relationship, the punishment for losing yourself in your work and ignoring your own care far worse than any he had doled out before or since.

So maybe there is a chance you could be bold and not be punished for the audacious act you planned.

With a grace that belies your nerves, you finally cross to the middle of the room and climb the stairs to the dais. Meeting Boba’s visor, you stand before him and make your intentions clear as you move to sit sideways on his lap.

It takes no more than a second for him to curl around your waist and pull you down, securing you gently to him. His thumb runs gentle circles over your hip, its consistent pressure comforting.

“Everything okay, Princess?” Boba whispers.

His concern for you is a balm more blissful than any bacta treatment. It should be pathetic, the way just that much affection was enough to quiet your restless body, to soothe your exhausted mind.

But it’s just Boba. The effect he has on you is as natural as it is absolute.

It wasn’t the time or place to fill him in on all that weighed on you. So for now, you pulled a tight but genuine smile to ease his concern. “It is now,” you respond equally softly.

“Excuse me?" The disgruntled cry came from the merchant, his eyes raking over you angrily. "We were in the middle of discussing rather important matters! I would have believed the Daimyo of Mos Espa to have better hospitality than this!”

Maybe it was because your last nerve had been fried long ago. Or maybe it was the presence of your Daimyo, holding you so firmly against him, reminding you of all that he loved about you. Or maybe it was because the insult was directed not at you, but at your man.

More likely it's just that you couldn’t leave well enough alone when someone’s mouth was bigger than yours.

Either way, you found your voice again. And from Boba’s lap, it rang clear with authority.

“You have been welcomed into this palace, granted shade from the Twin Suns that beat down on Tattooine, plied with cool drink and rich food, and been given the privilege of an audience with the mighty Boba Fett. In this way, you have been treated hospitably. You do not, however, have the authority to tell the Daimyo or his Princess where either may sit in their palace.”

The merchant shrinks under your glare, no doubt aided in its intensity by the blank stare of Boba’s visor behind you. Still, you revel in his submission, finding it soothing in a different way to Boba’s touch.

“You are more than welcome to continue your petition. I assure you the Daimyo has not been distracted by anything other than your outburst. But if you find yourself too distracted, then perhaps it is better for you to cede the floor to someone more focused.”

The poor man before you sways back and forth on his feet, unsure whether he should stay or go.

“If you need a moment, step aside.” Boba’s voice echoes through the chamber, though it is lower than yours had been.

It takes only another fleeting second before the merchant decides to continue his spiel. You note with a fair amount of satisfaction that he is more soft-spoken than before, his demands morphing into pleas.

Boba is true to your word. He had not been distracted in the slightest and offers a trial exchange to determine if this man’s business is worth his time. But before the next petitioner can take his place, you feel your Daimyo lean closer, the edge of his helmet pressing gently to the line of your jaw.

“You handled yourself well, Princess,” he growls softly, and you beam at the pride you could hear even through his modulator. “But don’t think we won’t discuss the rest of your behavior later.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You know he only has your well-being at heart. And a small punishment is well worth the price of your prize — contentment and security in Boba’s arms and the respect of his court. Riding the high of your victory, you scan the rest of the line, noting that few petitioners meet your eyes. The ones who do nod deferentially.

Such is the way on Tattooine. Those with strength are followed. You never had expected to be in such a position yourself. But maybe Boba is right with all those sweet words he whispers in your ear when he believes you to be asleep.

Maybe, just maybe, you do have more strength than you believe. And if it takes spending more time with your Daimyo to find it … well, then that is just what you will have to do.

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a/n: I was on the fence about whether to include Boba Fett in my bingo card when I saw the Tattooine square. He is technically a clone, though he himself distances from that identity. But nothing else triggered my brain when thinking about a drabble for Tattooine. Then I saw this post by @thirsty-boba-fett-posts and one of her headcanons inspired me to the point where I had to write this, though it kinda took on a life of its own.

I hope you enjoyed it! And if you did, please reblog so others can find and enjoy it, too!

#cfb2023 #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #daimyo boba fett #daddy boba #dom!boba #dom boba #tbobf #tbobf fanfiction #dom!boba x reader #this is so self-indulgent #i just wanna sit on his lap and have him make things better

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