#kix tries to draw

[supredyne]

your pain is my pain too

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me mc #obey me fanart #obey me shall we date #kix tries to draw

[silly-goofy-mood]

The rest of the crew with flumph hats - because arc 6 brainrot and flumph hats are my brand here, I guess

#unprepared casters #the glacerian trail #uc arc 6 #lottie leremy #kipp tupper #beryl hatebad #remeny gratz #kix #sk-69 #uc fan art #unprepared casters fanart #flumph hats #traditional art #beginner artist #i tried to give them hats that fit their characters 🥰 #why does kix have a fuckin gigachad jawline #(says the person who made the drawing)

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Garden - NSFW Version

Summary: Six years after the sudden death of your father, you return to his beloved home to restore it to its former glory. A series of strange events leads you to find a friend in a strange horse that appears on your property. Little do you know there’s more to this horse than meets the eye. 

Pairing: Kix x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, monster AU, kelpie!Kix, minor character death at the start, grief, magic, shapeshifting, loosely based on folklore, cultural differences, no foreplay, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, sex in the rain.

A/N: This is the NSFW version of the fic. It's slightly longer due to the smut at the end, but if you would prefer to read the SFW version, it is linked down below. This was originally going to be a kinktober day but this story got a bit away from me and wound up less...kinky I'd say than I planned. So instead I'm posting it just as a monster/horror/regular smut fic. (though there is a bit of a praise kink at the end 👀)

MASTERLIST | SFW VERSION

It’s a day you’d rather forget. 

Your father had spent hours and hours of his time making the house perfect, making the yard perfect. He wanted everything to be perfect, but he’d never get to see it. 

It happened suddenly. You’d been the one to find him, searching for him in the backyard, in the labyrinth of paths and bushes and trees. You’d found him lying there in the grass  almost like he was taking a nap, but you knew him better than that. The panic that had risen in your throat was like nothing you’d ever felt, your scream heard clear in the house as you’d desperately tried CPR, but it was too late. 

To say it was a shock was an understatement. 

Now you’re sitting in the pristine grass he had mowed every other day without fail. His pride and joy was being tarnished by tents and plastic chairs. You tried to listen as some “mate” he’d had in college spoke about their time together, telling stories you’d never heard, referencing a man who was nothing more than a pile of ashes sitting on a table in front of the begonias he’d lovingly planted for your mother. She was crying into your grandmother’s shoulder, sobs wracking her body. 

But you don’t cry. 

Instead something is rising in you, something twisting, threatening to choke you. There were too many people, most of them you didn’t know, sitting in his lawn and tarnishing it with their heels and their shoes. He would have hated it, the holes in his golf course grade grass, the shoe prints that would no doubt be left imprinted in the grass thanks to the rain the night before. Footprints in the dirt of his precious gardens, trampling his flowers, squishing the only thing that mattered to him in this world beside you and your mother. 

You can’t stand it anymore. 

You don’t care that people stare as you get up from your seat, walking out of the sweltering tent. The sun is high, heating the ground beneath your feet as you take off running, losing your shoes in the process. You don’t care, feet squelching in the wet grass, then the underbrush as you force your way into the trees along the property line. You run through the trees, ignoring the branches grabbing at you, the leaves snagging in your hair, the roots tempting to trip you, tangle your feet and send you to the ground. Tears have blurred your vision now, running blindly, trying to get away from the pain, the...wrongness behind you. 

Finally a root jumps up and grabs you, tangling around your ankles, sending you to the ground. The mud is wet as you hit it, splattering on your black clothes but you don’t care. You don’t even bother to pull yourself up, laying in the mud as you sob. You miss your father, you miss his quirks, the things you never appreciated before. The things you never paid attention to that you should have. The things you’d never get to do again, the things you’d never get to hear or see again. All the sorrow wells at once, the numbness of the past few days wearing off. 

A splash near you draws you from your grieving, your head snapping to the side, finding a small lake. You had no idea it was there. Then again, you hadn’t spent much time in the forest by your house. Your father had always warned you of faeries but you’d never believed him. Faeries were children’s stories. 

But the horse head staring at you from the lake has you questioning that. 

It’s black as night, reeds tangled in its black hair. It's submerged up to its milky white eyes, no bubbles appearing where its nose is in the water. You have to be hallucinating. The past few days had gotten to you finally and you were seeing things. That was it. Maybe you’d hit your head when you were falling and this was all just a dream. 

You stay still as the horse begins to move closer, its head rising up out of the water now. A low buzzing begins in your ears, rising in pitch until it almost sounds like...music. You’re entranced, staring at the horse as it stands still. Something draws you towards it, something tells you to touch it, not to fear the water but to jump in and climb on its back. 

The cold lake water startles you from your trance. You hadn’t even noticed you had moved,  kneeling at the edge of the water, wet mud threatening to suction you into place. It’s soaking your clothes but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Your name being shouted through the trees drags you from your thoughts. You lower your hand, realizing it had been reaching out towards the horse. It’s gone, taking all trace of it having been there, not even a ripple on the surface of the water left. Maybe it had been a hallucination all along. 

Arms are wrapping around you, pulling you from the edge of the water. 

“Stay away from there!” A woman is saying, chastising you for getting close to the lake. Your head is swimming, the buzzing still in your ears. “Those waters are dangerous.” 

Something is wrapped around your shoulders, and you find you're shivering despite the warm sun above you. You recognize who it came from, the overwhelming scent of aftershave reaching your nose. 

You're led back to the house and taken inside. Your mother is there instantly, worrying over you. You numbly allow yourself to be led to the couch, Jeffrey sitting you down on it. He lived two doors down with his mother, and more than once had come calling on you with any excuse he could use to do so. You thought he was sweet, but that was it. 

Someone is speaking, someone else is handing you a glass of water. But everything seems distant to you. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were in a coma and this was all some sick fantasy brought on by delirium. 

You know that’s not the case. The brain wasn’t capable of thinking all these people up, all the things that you’d seen, all the people you’d met over the past few days were real. 

Your dad being dead was real. 

You sip the water, letting people fuss around you. Jeffrey is sitting next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders supportively. You’re still wet, the cold water grounding you, but it was also a reminder of what you’d seen. The horse in the water. How you had been so drawn to it, wanting to touch it, willing to walk into the lake to get to it. 

The thought scares you more than anything that had happened the past few days ever could. 

***

Six years. 

Your mother had held onto the house for six years. 

She moved you both to town, unable to stare at the work your father had put in. The constant reminders of him were too much for her to handle and so she’d run from it. You had returned once you had your own car. You had constantly driven past it, pulled into the driveway to stare at it. It looked sad, like something out of a fairytale. The outside needed repainted, the yard had overgrown, starting to take back the house as well. The garden your father had put so much work into and the bushes were all dead. It was like the forest was slowly creeping in, retaking the land as its own. 

Six years and you had finally graduated from high school, gone to college and gotten a useless degree. Six years to work up the courage to ask your mother for the keys, wanting some place to stay that wasn’t the cramped apartment rife with your mother and her sorrows. 

Finally it was yours. 

You start with the house, cleaning it up inside. It was dusty and damp after the six years it had been closed up. You air it out, sweeping and dusting every inch, making it shine, just like it had six years ago. The yard, however, was something else. Its glory was gone, shriveled up and overgrown from six years of neglect. You knew you could never return it to its full glory, but at least you could try. Spring is coming, the days slowly lengthening and getting warmer. You want to get it cleaned up so you can begin planting soon.

A few days go by without incident. You finish fixing up the interior of the house and begin on the exterior. Ivy has made itself at home on one side of the house, and it desperately needs repainting. The roof needs to be cleaned as well, moss growing on the side facing the forest. It truly feels like the forest had slowly been reaching out, trying to reclaim the land. 

For a moment you feel as if you should let it, as you watch the ivy peel back from the side of the house. What was the point of cleaning up the house? Your father is gone. He won’t ever see it again. 

You push the thought away, finishing your work for the day. 

It’s after dark when it happens for the first time. You had been making dinner after closing up the house when a low buzzing had started to sound in your ears. You look around, wondering if perhaps it’s one of the lights. You move around the room, standing next to each one, but the buzzing never changes in tone or volume. 

You flick the lights off, but the buzzing doesn't cease. The moon is out, illuminating the lawn as you stare out the window. Your lips part in a gasp as you catch a shadowy form standing in the long grass. You move closer to the window, blinking in shock. 

It looks like...a horse. 

Its eyes glint in the darkness, reflecting the light of the moon. A feeling of uneasiness washes over you, the buzzing in your ears feeding the fear starting to bud in the back of your mind. Your hand shakes as you reach for the curtain, quickly drawing it closed. The room is bathed in darkness and you fumble for the lightswitch, the buzzing stopping as soon as the light flicks on. 

You breathe in the sudden silence, your heart thudding in your chest. There was a horse in your yard. You turn back to the kitchen, trying to calm the fear gnawing at you. Maybe one of the neighbors had gotten a horse and it somehow escaped into your yard. There was certainly plenty for a horse to eat in the overgrown yard. 

Perhaps you should make a visit to the neighbors again. It has been years since you’ve seen them. You can let them know one of their horses is escaping at night. 

***

None of your neighbors have horses. 

You try to process the thought as you work on painting the exterior of the house. You had visited them the day before, making them known of your return to your childhood home. You had asked briefly about the horse, but you’d gotten nothing but shrugs and one strange look from Jeffrey’s mother. 

Perhaps it had escaped from somewhere outside of the neighborhood then. There were many farms all across the countryside. The horse could have wandered in from anywhere. Hell, the horse could have been a hallucination for all you know. A trick of the shadows. 

For all you know there was no horse at all. 

The thought sends a shiver down your spine, something in the back of your mind prickling. You get the sudden feeling you’re being watched. You turn on the ladder, glancing at the forest behind you. You scan the treeline, but there’s nothing in the thick underbrush. 

Your father had always warned you about going into the forest as a child. Forests are strange places, and while there were no large predators you had to worry about, there were...other things. The trees were tricky and liked to play games, making you get lost on purpose.

And the faeries. 

You had believed him, at least as a child. Then you brushed him off as you grew older. Faeries were nothing but stories and legends. 

Still, you never ventured into the forest. Something about it has always given you goosebumps, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight. 

You turn away from the trees, resuming your painting. You want to get it done and dry before the weather turns wet with the coming spring. You have a lot to do before then. 

The buzzing returns that night. 

You’re in bed this time, tucked away upstairs in your old room. It hadn’t felt right, sleeping in what was your parents' old room. Some of your dads stuff is still in there, and you don’t feel brave enough to start looking through it. Not yet. 

You had just been drifting off to sleep when the buzzing started, pulling you from the precious slumber. Your heart jumps in your chest, fear buzzing through you almost as loud as the buzzing in your ears. Your gaze turns towards the window overlooking the front yard. What would you see if you got up and looked? Will the shadowy horse figure be there again? 

Your breathing picks up as you hear the familiar creak of the porch steps. The front door is locked, you had made sure of it twice before you retired to bed, but that doesn’t stop the fear screaming in the back of your mind. 

Your legs are shaking as you rise from the bed, slowly tiptoeing to the window. You glance down at the yard, but you can’t see anything. The porch continues to creak, slow, heavy footsteps making their way around the side of the house.

You open your door, glancing down the hallway towards the stairs. You let out a breath, cursing the fact everything you could use as a weapon is downstairs in the kitchen. You tiptoe along the hallway, making your way slowly down the stairs. 

You stare at the kitchen window as you make your way to the bottom of the steps, the curtains thin enough you can make out something moving on the porch in the moonlight. You sink down, making yourself as small as possible as you hold your breath. 

There’s a horse on your porch. 

It’s unmistakable, its shadow illuminated through the kitchen window. You’re afraid, breaths ragged and shaky as you stare at the figure through the window. You wonder if it can see you even in the darkness. Its head turns towards the window, ears flickering. You hold your breath, the buzzing in your ears getting louder. 

It almost sounds like...music. 

A deep, sad song begins to come through the buzzing like a radio picking up a distant signal. Tears fill your eyes as something tugs deeply in your chest. The grief from the last six years comes back to the surface, the house suddenly feeling so large and empty. You want to escape, you want to run out the door. You can’t stand it, being alone. The house was supposed to be full of light and laughter and happy memories. It’s so cold and empty now. 

The creak of a board on the porch snaps you from your thoughts, your body halfway to the front door. You hadn’t even realized you had gotten up. You stumble back, racing for the stairs and back up to your room. You push your desk in front of the door before diving under the covers, putting a pillow over your head to try and block out the buzzing music. 

***

You let out a shriek as you leave the house two days later. 

Standing in your yard is a black horse. 

It’s just standing there, staring right at you, unmoving. Your hand is on the doorknob, ready to rush back inside. There’s no buzzing this time, no song. It’s morning, the sun coming over the hills. The world is damp from how cold it was last night. There’s no hoofprints in the tall grass, no sign of the horse trampling through it. You wonder how long it’s been there. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, feeling stupid as the words leave your mouth. You’re talking to a horse. 

Its ears flick at your words and it continues to stare at you for a moment before it lowers its head, starting to graze on the tall grass. You relax just slightly, your hand slipping off the doorknob. Perhaps it’s just a lost horse, come to graze on your jungle. The other neighbors all keep their lawns well kept, so you can rationalize why a horse would choose this yard over theirs. 

Maybe this was the horse you’ve been seeing at night too, simply making itself at home where there’s plenty of food. Maybe you’ve been imagining the buzzing, the music. Maybe the emptiness of your home truly is getting to you. 

Your foot hits something as you take a step forward, drawing your gaze downward. Sitting on your porch is a silver halter. You glance at the horse, its eyes on you as you bend down to pick it up. The leather is soft and worn, diamonds lining the sides and the nose. The buckles shine like new, and you wonder if they’re real silver. 

You glance back at the horse, finding it staring at you as it chews. You take a cautious step forward, then another. The horse doesn’t move, staying still as you make your way down the creaky steps. 

“Is this yours?” You ask, holding the halter up. 

The horse bobs its head before bending back down to graze. 

You blink in shock. Did the horse just...nod? You take a couple steps forward, closer to the horse. It’s big, tall and strong even with its head bent. Its coat is slick and shiny in the morning light, its mane thick and curly and long enough it drags on the ground when it eats. It’s a beautiful horse, and you can’t imagine someone just leaving it here. 

“Aren’t you...supposed to be wearing this?” You say, holding up the halter. 

The horse rears back, letting out a loud neigh as you approach. You stumble back as it moves away from you, staring at you with a cautious look. Your heart is pounding in your throat, short breaths puffing in the cool air. 

“Okay, okay.” You hold your hand out, your fingers trembling. “You don’t have to wear it.” The horse continues to watch you as you make your way back up the steps. “I’ll just...put it inside so it doesn’t get damaged.” 

The horse is grazing again when you step back outside, almost like nothing had happened. 

You watch it for a few moments before sighing. “I guess if you’re going to help with the yard you can stay.” 

You should put up a poster at the general store in town about the stray horse that’s made itself at home on your property. You go about your day, the horse contently grazing on your long grass, paying you no mind. It’s nice, not being alone, even if your companion is a mysterious stray horse that apparently understands you. You’ve always heard horses are very intelligent, though, so perhaps it wasn’t that strange it was able to answer you. 

You work on repairs outside the house until sunset, tired and sore from all the work you’ve been doing. You haven’t even touched the garden yet. You should pull out the lawnmower tomorrow and at least get the grass trimmed down. Make it look like more of a yard. 

You turn around, nearly jumping out of your skin as you find the horse right behind you. You hadn’t even heard it approach you, not even its footsteps on the stone path to the front door. 

You put a hand on your chest, taking a deep breath. “You’re a sneaky thing, aren’t you.” 

An almost mischievous look flashes in its eyes, so fast you almost don’t notice. Almost. You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart as it stretches out its head, sniffing at your sweatshirt. You hesitantly reach up, resting your hand on its face. Its hair is silky and smooth under your hand, almost feeling faintly damp. 

It blows out a breath, pressing its face into your hand. You scratch its nose, a smile tugging at your lips as it moves its head with your hand. 

“It’s nice, not being alone.” You say, gently patting his head. “Things didn’t used to be this way. But, maybe someday they won’t be anymore.” You pat his head before pulling away. 

He watches you walk up the porch steps, and you take one last look at him before you close the door, locking it. 

You relax on the couch after dinner, your eyes drawn to the halter sitting on the coffee table. You pick it up, feeling the weight of it in your hands. It’s heavy from the diamonds, and you just know it has to be expensive. You turn it in your hands, looking at the other side. The leather is worn, which must mean it gets used often. It probably looks good on the horse, the silver contrasting its dark hair. 

On the back of the nosepiece is three letters embroidered in the leather. 

KIX. 

Are they initials? Or perhaps the horse’s name is Kix. 

There’s no other markings, no other indication of the owner’s information anywhere. You run your fingers over the soft leather again before you set it back on the coffee table, heading off to bed. 

***

The horse is standing in your lawn again the next morning. You’re less afraid this time, walking down the steps without pause. It watches you, its tail flicking. There’s something about its stare, those dark eyes watching you with almost human understanding. It sends a shiver down your spine, fear tickling the back of your mind again. 

You shove it aside as you pull the lawnmower out of the shed, sighing as you stare at the expanse of lawn you’re going to have to mow. 

You turn to look at the horse, its eyes on you. “There was a name on the halter.” You say, leaning against the lawnmower. “Kix, I think.” 

The horse bobs its head in a nod. 

“Is that...your name?” 

It nods again. 

A smile tugs at your lips. “Are you...a boy horse?” 

It nods once more, before lowering its head to graze. So that was his name on the halter. You still can’t help but wonder who he belongs to. Surely someone was looking for him. 

Kix continues to graze mindlessly as you mow the tall weeds and grass. As you said you would, you leave a small patch for him to graze on in the back of the house, away from the street and the front door. You know it’s only a matter of time before the neighbors notice your mysterious visitor. You’re surprised none of them have come knocking yet.

The day grows warmer, the sun bearing down on you as you mow the lawn, working your way in a circle around the house. You finish up back by the shed, shutting the lawnmower off before you collapse in the newly cut lawn, breathing heavily. 

Footsteps crunch through the grass before you’re staring upside down at Kix’s nose. His lips tickle your forehead as he sniffs at your head, your hand pushing his nose away. You push yourself up to sit, wiping the sweat from your brow. 

“I don’t know how my dad did this, like, every day.” You say, running your hand over the short grass. “He loved his lawn. He loved his yard. He loved his garden.” You shake your head, staring at the tangled vines and dead bushes, the weeds that have taken over where meticulously planted flowers used to bloom every spring. “Now look at it.” 

Tears burn your eyes. You don’t have the skills your father had, the knowledge, the drive to make and keep the landscaping so beautiful. 

“It deserves so much better than this.” You say, shaking your head. “He deserves so much better.”

Kix nudges against your back, nickering softly. You sniffle, wiping the tear that slides down your cheeks. You knew it would be a lot of work, and you knew you could never restore it to what your father had. You could still try. You could still make it look decent. If nothing else, you could at least clean it up. 

***

Kix is there every day, greeting you at the porch every morning. He hovers behind you often as you begin to work on the garden, snacking on weeds and helping you clear bushes. As soon as you cut one down, he drags it to your trash pile for you. 

You talk to him as you work, telling him all about your family, your dad, your life after you left. You worry about your mom, but you know she’s doing what’s best for her, just as you are. 

Kix seems to understand you, not in the way animals do, but in a human way. It’s a bit unnerving sometimes, the way he looks at you as you’re speaking. You have little experience with horses, though, so you can’t be sure if it’s all that unusual. 

You like having him around. The house feels less empty, even if he stays outside. You haven’t had any strange experiences since he showed up, so you can’t complain. You had begun to question if coming back out here was worth it. Now you’re glad you came back, and you decided to stay. 

You get the garden and the areas around the yard cleared, everything looking so bare now. There were a few bushes still standing, Kix having pushed you away from some of them. You had left them with a shrug, moving on to others that were dead and crumpled. Deciding what to plant was going to be harder.  

You do research, looking at various plants that not only look good together, but also will be easy to manage. You’ll be spending a lot of money, but it’ll be worth it. 

Kix is surprisingly absent the morning your plants get delivered. You don’t see him until the delivery truck is long gone, and you’re hauling plants around the yard to their respective places.

In fact, any time you get visitors, he makes himself scarce, even when it’s the neighbors. It’s odd, but perhaps he’s just shy. You don’t blame him. You weren’t the biggest fan of all of the neighbors, but you’ve known most of them since you were a child. 

Jeffrey’s mother comes to visit one day as you’re working on planting some seeds for flowers. You invite her in for tea, sweaty and dirty but she doesn’t seem to mind. Kix is gone, having disappeared silently before she arrived. Sometimes he moved so swiftly and silently it almost seemed unnatural. 

“How have you been, dear?” Jeffrey’s mother asks you. 

You shrug, pouring the tea. “It’s strange, being back. The house seems so empty.” 

“The yard looks lovely. I’m sure it will be positively stunning come summer.” She says, looking out the window. “Your father would be proud.” 

A bitter smile forms on your face. “I’m sure he would be. I’m not nearly as talented as he is.” 

She turns from the window, her eyes spotting the halter on the table. She gasps, covering her mouth as she stares at it. “W-Where did you get that?” 

You frown, eyeing the halter before looking back at her. “It showed up on my doorstep.” You say. “With a black horse.” 

She rushes towards you with surprising speed, grabbing you by the arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone into the woods again! Don’t tell me you’ve gone back to that place!” 

“W-What are you talking about?” You frown at her. “I’ve never gone into the woods.” 

Her grip on your arms loosens just slightly. “You don’t remember. The day of your father’s funeral. You ran from the service like a sinner fleeing church straight into the woods. We found you out by the lake, right on the edge of the water.” 

Your ears begin to buzz with the familiar sound as images flash through your mind. You remember being angry at everyone for ruining your father’s yard. You remember running from the service, running through the trees. You remember feeling like they were grabbing at you, trying to pull you in all directions. You remember falling, you remember the buzzing sound and the horse in the water. The black horse with milky white eyes. 

“You must get rid of it.” She says, staring at the halter. “Do not go near that horse again. It will only bring you death.” 

You sit on the couch, staring at the halter after she leaves. Things begin to click into place as the memory of that day, the memory of what you saw, the memories of the strange events when you returned replay in your mind. 

Your father had warned you about lakes in the area, that there was a legend about shapeshifting horses that would lure you into the water and drown you. You had brushed him off, just as you had about other things. You know what you saw that day, though. You had nearly been a victim of one yourself. 

And you’ve been talking with it every day for the last few weeks. 

It hasn’t seemed like it wanted to hurt you. But it’s understanding of your words, it’s knowledge, it’s manner, even its eyes tell you everything. You’ve been spending every day with a kelpie. 

***

You leave the house the next day, halter in hand. It’s a foggy morning, colder than it should be. It feels fitting as you approach the dark figure waiting in your yard. You stare at its too human eyes, holding the halter tightly in your hand. 

“You’re no horse, are you?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest so hard you’re certain he might be able to hear it. “It was you that day, wasn’t it? You were going to kill me.” 

The horse blows out a breath, taking a step closer to you. You take half a step back, holding the halter up between you like it might protect you. He takes another step forward, stretching out his neck to nose at the halter. He wants you to put it on him, you discern. 

You’re not sure what will happen when you put it back on. He doesn’t look like that horse in the water without it, but will that change? Will he turn back into the murderous beast he’s supposed to be? He could kill you in this form. A well aimed kick would do the job. Why would he want to be in his other form to do it? Would it be easier? Quicker for you. 

Or perhaps the halter will allow him to communicate easier with you. 

It’s a risk you’re going to have to take. 

Your hands shake as you fit the halter onto his face, having to try a couple times to get it in the right position. As soon as you buckle it the buzzing begins again in your ears. You stumble back a couple steps, Kix shaking his head before he stares at you again. His eyes are milky white, his coat dripping with water as if he’d just climbed from the lake. You stare in horror as his body begins to contort, his bones snapping. 

You stumble back a couple more steps, your feet slipping in the damp grass, sending you sprawling onto your back as he shifts and changes, and suddenly you’re staring at a man. 

He’s tall and strong, rippling with muscles. Your cheeks grow hot as he steps towards you, damp curls falling onto his forehead. He’s naked, tanned skin on display, save for a silver chain around his neck. His eyes are dark, not unlike those of the horse. 

You scramble back as he squats in front of you, but his hand catches your leg, keeping you still. The buzzing becomes almost unbearable, pulsing in your head like a migraine. Cold skin touches yours as you screw your eyes closed, the buzzing beginning to quiet to almost nothing. 

“I apologize.” A deep, accented voice says. “I did not realize you were so sensitive to magic.” 

You crack your eyes open, staring up into deep brown eyes. He’s squatting over you, his hand on your cheek. His skin is cold to the touch, though he’s likely been out in the cold all night. 

“You....you’re...” You stutter out, staring up into his handsome face. He is handsome, his face like what you would expect to find sculpted out of marble in a museum. 

“I am a kelpie, yes.” He says. 

“W-Why....why?” You ask, shaking under him as he stares down at you with a mix of emotions on his face. 

“Let’s get you inside, then I will explain everything.” He says, gently hauling you to your feet. 

It’s possibly dangerous, allowing a kelpie into your home but you’re not in a state of mind to protest. At least this way your body won’t be laying in the yard for days, you think. At least this way you won’t face the same fate as your father. 

He’s shockingly gentle as wraps a blanket around you, sitting you on the couch. He’s still completely naked and dripping water and here he is taking care of you. Your face is still hot despite the chill to your fingers. 

“There’s a towel in the closet.” You say, trying not to stare at him. “A-And some clothes that might fit.” 

He nods, stepping away from you finally. You sink down onto the couch, staring out the window as he digs through the closet by the bathroom. He comes back a few moments later with a towel wrapped around his shoulders and sweatpants covering his bottom half. They were your fathers, the spare he kept downstairs in case of emergencies. 

He sits down on the opposite end of the couch from you, staring at you. You pull your knees to your chest, tucking the blanket tight around you as you stare back. You can hardly believe you just watched the horse you’d spent the last few weeks interacting with shapeshift into a human. 

“Are you going to kill me?” You ask, wanting to get it out of the way first. 

He shakes his head. “No. That was never my intention. Though, I did consider it briefly when you appeared on the shore of my lake. It is simply my nature.” He shrugs. 

“Why didn’t you?” You ask. 

“I could sense something about you. The deep sadness within you, and something else that I now know is your sensitivity to magic.” He explains. “I was curious about you. I watched you every day until you left. I waited six years for your return.” 

Your heart is still thudding in your chest. “You were on my porch.” Is all you can think to say. 

“Yes.” He nods. “I wanted to see you again. I tried to draw you out, but you were resistant to my magic.” 

“That’s why...you gave me your halter?” You ask. 

He nods, stroking the silver chain around his neck. “It is what gives me my power. Without it, I am hardly more than a regular horse.” 

“So...if I took that off...you’d turn back into a horse?” You ask, eyeing the chain. 

He nods. “Yes, and I could not change back until you placed the halter back on.” 

“Why...why did you wait for all those years? Why did you find me?” You ask. 

“You are very beautiful.” He says, a soft look in his eyes. “And I was curious about you. My normal form was too much for you, and I knew I had to gain your trust, so I gave you the source of my power to do with what you wished. I would have remained a horse forever if that is what you wanted of me.” 

Your lips part in a gasp at his words. It sounds so very romantic from someone you just found out is actually a shapeshifting horse. You’ve known him for quite a while, but at the same time, you’ve only just met him. 

“Kix,” You swallow thickly. “I-I’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

He scoots closer to you, taking your hand in his. His skin is still cool to the touch, even against your slowly warming skin. “I wish to be with you, if you will have me.” He says, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I will stay with you until you cast me out. If you wish for me to remain a horse, I will do so. You will carry my halter for all eternity, just as you carry my heart.” 

You flounder as you stare at him. It’s all very sudden, though you suppose the courting rituals of supposed mythical creatures is a bit different than a human’s. “This...this is moving very quickly.” You say, shifting so you’re sitting on the edge of the couch. “I...I considered you a friend, as a horse. It was nice having someone around. This place...it’s so...empty and lonely now. It’s like a void when it once was full of life and joy.” 

Kix’s arm wraps around your shoulders. “Let me help you fill that void. I will do whatever you ask of me.” 

***

You keep Kix at arms length as the weeks pass. Human culture and customs are foreign to him, and you find yourself not only having to teach him, but having to move him often. He likes to be close to you, he likes to touch you. It’s strange after years of distance and sadness. He’s eager to do anything you ask of him, sticking close to you almost every hour of every day he can. He only disappears every few days to return to his lake, usually late at night. He’s always back by morning, sometimes in horse form, but usually in his human form. 

He helps you with the yard, eager to mow it as often as you ask him to after you teach him to use the lawnmower. He does it with almost no effort, always leaving a small patch for his horse-self. He helps you with the plants as well, the flowers you’ve planted growing and blooming, and the bushes he’d pushed you away from while you were clearing things out beginning to grow back as well. 

It’s not as good as your father would have done. You still like to think he’d be proud, though. 

The spring rains arrive, bringing a steady downpour for days. It leaves you and Kix mostly cooped up inside for an extended period for the first time since he revealed himself to you. He begins to grow a bit restless, and you hear him sneaking off every night to return to his lake, or perhaps just to run around for a while. You feel a bit bad, keeping him cooped up, but he offered no complaint. He could leave if he wanted, you had made that clear, but he stays dutifully at your side. 

Things begin to change as the rains continue, the dynamic between you shifting. He stands closer again, hands lingering when he touches you. He sits closer to you, stares at you more. 

Things shift even more one night when you’re making dinner. He had been setting the table as you chopped vegetables for a salad when your knife slipped, cutting into your skin. You drop it with a hiss, watching the blood bead along the edges of the cut before sliding down your hand in a steady stream. 

He’s there in an instant, hands cupping yours. He stares at your cut and for a moment you’re afraid he might snap, he might change, his promises might go out the window. Were kelpies like sharks? Would they lose all senses of themselves in the presence of blood? You had done a little reading on kelpies, but sources were varied and contradictory. Of course, you could have asked the actual kelpie in your house, but you’re never quite sure how to broach the subject. 

He wraps the dishcloth around your hand before leading you to the couch. He sits you down before gently unwrapping your hand. The dishcloth is stained and will have to be thrown out. His cool hands close around your injured one, surprising warmth blossoming across your skin as he closes his eyes. The buzzing begins in your ears again, vibrating through your whole being. He brings your hands to his face, whispering something inaudibly before he blows against your hand. 

He slowly removes his own hands, and your eyes widen as you see nothing but smeared blood on your skin. Not even a line where the cut had been. The buzzing dies down to a quiet murmur, where it always was with him near. He wipes the blood from your hand and from his with the ruined dish towel. 

“How did you do that?” You ask, still staring at your hand in awe. 

“Magic.” He states simply, his breath fanning your face. 

You look up from your hand, finding him so close you can see the small imperfections of his face. The light stubble growing on his cheeks, the light smattering of freckles on his nose, the crease between his eyebrows. His arm wraps around your waist as he leans in closer, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours. 

You freeze in shock, stiffening in his arms as his cool lips touch yours. You weren’t expecting it, and it’s a bit forward, but you don’t dislike it. 

He tears himself away from you, jumping up from the couch. He looks horrified, eyes wide and wild like a startled horse. “Forgive me.” He stutters out before he flings the door open, racing out into the rain. 

“Wait-Kix!” You yell, running to the door but he’s already gone, disappeared into the night. 

You glance back at the house before you take off running towards the trees. The rain pelts against your skin but you don’t care, the memories of your father’s funeral fresh in your mind as you break through the treeline, entering the forest. 

It feels as strange as it did that day, the branches and bushes and roots seeming to reach out to you as you run. You call out to Kix, but he’s completely disappeared. You pause to breathe, looking every which way, but you’re not even sure which direction you came from anymore. You’re not even sure he entered the forest at all. 

“Kix!” You call out loudly, starting to run forward again, hoping you’re going in the right direction. “Kix, come back!” 

A root reaches out and trips you, sending you into the mud. The canopy of trees blocks out some of the rain, but it still slips through, misting down onto the forest floor. You push yourself onto your knees, spotting a lake just through the bushes. You crawl through, ignoring the way the bush tears at your clothes and skin.

You stop at the edge of the lake, looking out at the water. It’s alive with the falling raindrops, your hands and knees sinking into the mud as you kneel at the edge of the water.

“Kix!” You call out again, crawling forward until your hands are in the water. “Kix, please!” 

It’s cold, the rain having soaked you to the bone. You’re shivering, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re not even sure this is the right lake. Nothing looks familiar, but then again, you haven’t been here in six years. 

The water begins to ripple, dark ears and milky eyes peeking above the surface. 

“Kix!” You call out. “Please...come back. I-I liked it.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “I’d like you to kiss me again.”

The horse sinks back under the water, your heart still thudding in your chest. A sudden horrible thought races through your mind. Was this even Kix? Was there more than one lake in the forest? Had you just signed your death warrant because of your foolish desperation? 

The water ripples, a familiar curly-haired head appearing from the depths as Kix slowly makes his way forward to the shore in his human form. He drops to his knees in front of you, the buzzing sounding in your ears as he cups your face. His skin is frigid, even against your own chilled cheeks. 

“That was foolish, coming after me.” He says, almost shouting over the pouring rain. 

“Why did you run?” You ask, shivering from the cold. 

“You did not kiss me back. I thought perhaps I overstepped. I thought you were angry with me, that you might throw me out.” 

“It surprised me,” You say, looking up into his dark eyes. “I-I wasn’t expecting it. But I liked it, and I’d like you to do it again.” 

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. You breathe each other in for a moment before he’s closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His skin is frigid and offers no respite to the cold mud seeping into your pants, or the rain pelting down around you. 

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him. You’re shivering, fingers and toes long having gone numb in the freezing rain. He moans into your mouth as you bite his lower lip, your tongue slipping in to tangle with his. His hands slide down to your waist, wrapping around you tightly. 

He lifts you, pulling you slightly up the bank before your back meets soft grass. You part your legs for him, his naked body slipping between them. The rain pelts down around you but you don't care, his hands making quick work of your soaked clothes. Despite your nakedness, the chill is leaving you as your body warms with arousal, his cold hands dragging along every inch of exposed skin. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for this.” He says, nipping at your neck as his hands squeeze at your body. “So long for you.” 

“Take me.” You gasp, hands grabbing at his curls, at his body as much as he is yours. “I’m yours.” 

He lets out a content hum, pulling away only to pull your pants off. They disappear in the grass with a wet plop but you don’t care, laying naked in the dirt and rain under him. His cock is hard as he stares down at you, slick and laid open for him. 

Your fingers sink into the mud as he drags his cock along your slit. His eyes are dark as he stares down at you, lining himself up. Your lips part in a gasp as he presses into you, stretching you open. It burns, your hands pulling him down against you. You cling to him, meshing your lips together in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain. He’s so big, stretching you open as he presses into you. 

Your head falls back as he bottoms out, pressed entirely into you. Your body buzzes with energy, fingers sinking into his skin as the sensation becomes almost unbearable. 

“You can take it.” He moans into your ear. “You can take it. That’s it.” 

You clamp around him, a breathy moan leaving your lips. You feel him smirk against your jaw, his hips rolling against yours as he slowly begins thrusting into you. 

“Such a good girl for me, offering yourself to me like this.” He says. “You’re mine.” 

“Yours.” You gasp, walls fluttering around him at his praise. “All yours.” 

A low noise rumbles through his chest as he speeds up his movements, fucking into you faster and harder. The dirt at your back bites into your skin as your body moves from the force of his thrusts. 

“Kix!” You gasp, pleasure mixing with the buzzing under your skin. It’s becoming too much, warmth pooling in your belly. 

“Such a tight pussy, taking me so well.” He groans in your ear, nipping at the shell. “Going to cum for me? Going to cum around my cock?” 

“Yes!” You cry out, back arching against him. 

“Good girl.” He all but growls. “Going to fill you with my seed. Can you take it?” 

Your eyes roll back at his words, your mind hazy and buzzing. “Yes! Yes! Please give it to me!” You cry. 

His hips drag along your clit as he fucks into you wildly, your orgasm slamming into you. You cum with a cry, milking his cock as you writhe under him. 

“Yes!” He groans. “Yes, take it.” He slams his hips into yours, his hot release spilling into you. 

You groan at the feeling, toes curling in the mud as he fills you in the middle of the forest. It’s so carnal and wild, your body streaked with dirt and soaked from the rain. 

He collapses on top of you, his heavy body pinning you down. You wrap your arms around him, the warmth of your skin contrasting the chill of his. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. 

“Ride me.” He breathes against your lips.

You pull back to stare at him. “Didn’t we just-” 

“No,” He laughs. “I want you to ride me.” 

Your mouth falls open. “Oh, right. Okay.” 

He pulls away from you, stepping back into the water before his body contorts and cracks, shifting back into its horse form. He kneels in front of you in the mud and you slide onto his back, not caring that you’re naked. You wrap your arms around his neck as he stands, his hooves kicking up mud and water as he takes off running into the trees. 

You cling on for dear life but you can’t help the laugh that tears from your throat as the rain and wind whips at your bare skin. You feel happy and free for the first time in a long time. 

Taglist:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @thrawnspetgoose @originalcollectionartistry @gwalchmai2970 @maddiedrmr @sunshinesdaydream @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mooncommlink @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare @jediknightjana

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #clone medic kix x reader #clone thirsting #x reader

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Do It Again

I heard we're simping for Tup now, so I'm joining @blueink-bluesoul and @deejadabbles to quench the Tup girlies' thirst. Thanks, @corrieguards for breaking all of our brains with this post!

And THANK YOU to @blueink-bluesoul for generously sharing this outstanding 79's playlist. It was fantastic to write to, and now I'm sad that I can't go to 79's and pick up a trooper of my own.

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Tup x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT; oral sex; hair-pulling; glove kink (because why not); untouched orgasm; light femdom vibes; DJ writing vanilla characters challenge (impossible)

Masterlist

79’s is packed. There isn’t a single available booth, table, or barstool in the club, and the dancefloor throngs with gyrating bodies: a mix of civilians and troopers in street clothes, dress uniforms, and armor painted every imaginable color. The energy is electric, and the buzz of it prickles across your skin. The music is deafening, the heavy throb of the bass vibrating in your chest as you wait for one of the bartenders to take your order. They are run off their feet tonight, and you feel a pang of sympathy for them. Hopefully, they’ll rake in enough tips to make the extra work worthwhile.

While you wait, you scope out the club, tallying up the possibilities. You fidget with your rings and sway to the music. The strobing neon light is dim and disorienting, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the haze of smoke. So many troopers tonight, goddamn. 

Your gaze roves across the dancefloor, and a shiny tries to catch your eye. Too eager, no thanks. A loud chorus of cheers erupts from one of the corner booths, drawing your attention. Hello, soldier!

The group slams back a round of shots and taps their empty glasses on the table twice. Four clones and a nat-born woman are crowded into the booth and looking very cozy. You zero in on one of the clones. He’s gorgeous, obviously; they all are. But he stands out with his long, curly hair that he wears loose around his shoulders. The group bursts into a peal of raucous laughter, and the woman in the booth loops her arms around the long-haired trooper’s head and squeezes him into a tight hug while one of the clones across the booth snaps a holo of them. Damn, looks like he’s already taken.

Just then, one of the bartenders taps your shoulder to get your attention, and you turn back toward the bar to place your order. 

“Pabu colada!” you shout over the roar of the music.

The bartender nods and holds up a hand, mouthing “Five minutes.”

---

Across the club, Jesse, Kix, Fives, Tup, and Cerra throw back their second round of shots—or is it the third? They’re starting to blur together. Kix has his holocam out and is trying to get the perfect angle for a group selfie. Cerra leans her head against Fives’s shoulder with a small smile that makes Tup just the tiniest bit jealous. Not that he’s interested in Cerra. That would be kriffing weird. But seeing the way she and Fives have this whole unspoken communication thing makes Tup wish he had that kind of connection with someone.

He looks away, and just then, he catches sight of you leaning against the bar, eyeing the dancefloor like a queen surveying her domain. Holy shit, she’s gorgeous, he thinks. He looks away quickly, not wanting you to catch him staring.

“Tup, when are you going to get a haircut?” Jesse asks.

Tup snorts. “You’re no-one to talk, brother. You think that cog tat is regulation?”

“Face tattoos are almost as much of a GAR tradition as standing duty hungover,” Kix laughs.

“I feel kind of left out,” Cerra adds. “I’m the only person at this table without one.”

“Nobody’s going to mistake you for a clone,” Fives chuckles.

“Damn, what gave it away?” Cerra asks.

Tup sneaks another glance across the club at you. Kriff, she’s looking right at me! He whips his head back to the table quickly. Cerra notices and gives him a devious smirk that means she’s planning something, and it’s either going to be incredibly awesome or slightly mortifying.

“See, when Tup moves his head like that, his hair goes all over,” Jesse says. He’s getting loud, and Tup can tell that the Dodbri whiskey is starting to work. “One of these nights, I’m going to sneak into your bunk and shave it off.”

Fives flips Jesse the bird, and Cerra wraps her arms protectively around Tup’s head.

“Never!” she exclaims. “I’ll protect you, Tup!”

The table explodes into a mix of laughter, threats, and banter, and Kix snaps a quick holo, smiling as he reviews it.

“Hey, this one is pretty good,” he says. “Want me to send it to you?”

“Fuck yeah, bro!” Cerra says. “I don’t plan on remembering tonight, so it’ll be good to have proof that it actually happened.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jesse says. “Except we’re out.”

“Next round’s on me, boys,” Cerra says. “Tup, scoot.”

Tup stands up, and Cerra shimmies out of the booth, then makes her way across the club.

---

It has definitely been more than five minutes, and your feet are starting to get sore. Maybe these shoes weren’t the best idea. But then again, when you picked them out, you didn’t know that half of the damned GAR was on shore leave and there wouldn’t be a free seat within a three-block radius of the club. You are just starting to wonder if you should call it a night when a woman’s voice speaks close to your ear. 

“That’s a great dress!”

“Thanks,” you say automatically as you turn to see the woman from the corner booth. 

Up close, she’s pretty in a slightly intimidating, maybe-could-break-you-in-half-and-make-you-beg-her-to-do-it-again kind of way. She has kind eyes, though, and her smile is just this side of cocky. You feel a spark of interest as she squeezes in next to you and flags down the bartender.

“Hey, Cerra,” the Twi’lek bartender shouts. “Another of the same?”

“Spotchka this time,” the woman—Cerra—shouts back.

“Six again?”

“Just five this time,” Cerra says. She turns to you. “Unless you want to join us? We have an empty seat in our booth. No pressure, obviously.”

Maybe you could salvage this night after all. The bartender is waiting, so you make a decision in a hurry. After all, there are three other gorgeous troopers in that booth, and if you play your cards strategically, you might end up in the middle of a sandwich made of Cerra and her long-haired trooper. 

“Sure!” you say.

“Make that a flagon of spotchka and six glasses,” Cerra calls to the bartender. “Thanks, La’sara!”

The Twi’lek nods and slides the bottle and glasses across the bar. Huh. I guess it pays to be a regular, you think.

Cerra grabs the drinks and leads you around the perimeter of the dancefloor, deftly avoiding the overly enthusiastic flailings of a few troopers who probably should have been cut off a couple drinks ago.

When you reach the booth, the four clones look up, and the long-haired one’s eyes widen with surprise when he sees you standing next to Cerra. She sets the drinks on the table, pushing aside the empty shot glasses to make room. A single glass is still full, so somebody must have skipped a round.

“Kix, Jesse, Fives, Tup,” Cerra says, gesturing to each of the clones in turn. “And this is my new best friend, uhhh—”

She looks at you expectantly, and you introduce yourself to a chorus of hellos from the clones. Tup stands, and Cerra slides into the booth, cozying up to the clone with a 5 tattoo on his forehead. Tup turns to you.

“Would you be more comfortable next to Cerra, or on the outside of the booth?” he asks.

Thoughtful and gorgeous. Boy can get it. You opt to sit between Cerra and Tup. It’s a tight squeeze with six of you in the U-shaped booth, but you don’t mind. Tup’s leg presses up against yours as he settles in next to you, warm and solid, and you lean a little closer to him as Cerra pours the spotchka into the chilled glasses and slides them around the table.

“What are we drinking to?” you ask.

“To brothers,” Cerra says.

“To brothers!” the clones chorus, and a few tables nearby cheer along with them.

“And sisters,” Tup adds, nodding at Cerra. “And new friends.”

Okay, so maybe he’s available after all. His eyes meet yours as you all clink your glasses together and drink. He has the nicest eyes, you decide. Soft and fringed with thick black eyelashes and golden brown and a little shy. Up close, you notice a small teardrop tattoo on his cheek, and you brush your fingers over it.

“What’s this for?” you ask.

He leans in to say something, but before he can speak, the clone with the giant Republic cog tattoo cuts in.

“He’s shedding a tear for all the broken hearts he’s left across the galaxy,” he says with a loud laugh.

“Jesse, don’t be a dick,” Cerra says, and from the way Jesse flinches, you can tell that she kicked him under the table.

“Yeah, Jesse, don’t be a dick,” Kix says. “We all know it’s really to show that he’s still wet behind the ears. Practically a tubie, this one.”

Tup just shakes his head with a smile, and you can tell that he’s used to being the target of his brothers’ jokes. The club is getting louder—or maybe it’s just your table—and you all have to shout to be heard. The level of booze in your glass drops steadily, and at some point, the bartender arrives with another bottle of spotchka and the cocktail you ordered ages ago. The hazy neon light takes on a pleasant glow as you finish your second drink, and you don’t notice the noise so much. 

Tup has captured one of your hands in a gentle grip and is circling his thumb lightly over the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. His gloves are rough, but his touch is soft. Each caress sends flickers of pleasure scintillating up your arm, and you can’t help wondering what else he’d be good at with those clever fingers.

The clones banter and tease each other ruthlessly, and your cheeks hurt from laughing at their antics. You howl with laughter at one of Fives’s jokes, when suddenly everyone at the booth snaps to attention in their seats. Confused, you look around to see what’s going on. A clone in full armor stands next to the table, arms crossed, and a stern expression on his face. 

“Out. Now.” His voice is hard, and his eyes are cold.

“Sir, yes, sir!” your companions say in unison.

They slide out of the booth and hurry to the club’s exit. Tup catches you by the hand and pulls you along with him. The group bursts through the doors and stumbles out onto the platform outside.

“Booooo, Commander Buzzkill,” Cerra says.

“Kriff, don’t say that so loud,” Jesse says, alarmed.

“I’m just saying, none of the other marshal commanders are as karking uptight as Bacara,” Cerra replies.

“Maybe we were getting a little loud,” Tup says.

“Et tu, Tup’ika?” Cerra asks in a wounded tone.

“We’re going to keep the party going,” Kix says. “You in?”

“Nah, not me,” Cerra replies. “I’ve got to be on the Ro-ti-Mundi early tomorrow morning. We’re shipping out at 0800.”

“Damn,” Jesse says. “Try not to die out there.”

A shadow flits across Fives’s face, and he moves a little closer to Cerra. Kix punches Jesse in the shoulder, but Cerra just laughs.

“Copy that,” she says. “Kix, keep my boys alive.”

“I’ll do my best,” Kix promises. “Say hi to Odd Ball for us.”

“I will,” Cerra replies, clasping his forearm with one hand and pounding him on the back with her other fist. She repeats the action with Jesse, then pulls Tup into a tight hug and whispers something in his ear.

The war is very far away from Coruscant, and for you, like for most people in the Core Worlds, the only real part of it you see most of the time is the clone troopers in their anonymous, dehumanizing armor. As you watch the group say goodbye to their friend, each of them knowing full well that it might be the last time they do so, the war suddenly feels very close and very, very personal. Cerra seems unaffected, though, as she turns to you.

“It was nice meeting you,” she tells you with a brilliant smile. “Take good care of my brother.”

And then, she and Fives are gone, leaving you with just Tup, Kix, and Jesse.

“Let’s go find another bar,” Kix says.

“Actually, I could eat,” you say. “Do you mind if we stop by a diner first?”

“No food! Alcohol!” Jesse exclaims with a lilt in his voice that says he definitely doesn’t need more alcohol.

“You boys have fun,” Tup says, taking your hand again. “We’re going to get a bite.”

The two of you begin walking. It’s late, but there are several diners nearby that are open all night. You bypass the first one, which prominently displays a window sign that says, “NO CLONES.” The night air feels cool and pleasant after the heat and stuffiness of the club, and it’s nice to finally be able to talk to Tup without having to shout.

“So Fives and Cerra are going back to the front tomorrow?” you ask, as a conversation starter.

“Just Cerra,” Tup says. “Fives is an ARC trooper, so he goes wherever he’s needed, but right now, he’s with the 501st.”

“Is that your unit?” you ask.

He nods. “We’re on leave for the next five days, unless something big happens and we get called up.”

“That must be hard,” you say. “Always having that uncertainty hanging over you.”

He shrugs. “We’re soldiers. It’s what we were made for. We don’t know anything different.”

That doesn’t make it right, you think, but you leave it unspoken, not wanting to veer into a philosophical debate when you could be doing something far more fun. A thought suddenly occurs to you.

“That shot that you all left on the table, what was that for?”

“That was for Hardcase,” he says. “We always drink to him on the first round.”

“He must be a good friend.”

“Yeah,” Tup says softly. “He was.”

Oh, kriff. The realization hits you with blinding clarity.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“Not your fault,” Tup replies easily. “How about this place? Their sign says clones are welcome.”

“Hey, Tup?” you ask softly. “Want to get out of here?”

---

Tup crashes against you as the two of you stumble through the door of your flat. You fumble for the control panel and blindly mash the buttons until the door finally closes. Tup’s strong hands slide possessively across your body, holding you close to him as he kisses you with a passion and skill that you weren’t expecting from someone with his quiet demeanor. 

His lips are soft, his breath is hot. He kisses you with tongue and teeth and an exquisite roughness that leaves you breathless and weak. He breaks away from your mouth and works his way across your jaw and down your neck, and when he reaches the pulse point where your throat meets your collarbone, you cry out and arch against him.

“Oh, fuck, Tup,” you gasp.

You feel him smile against your skin, and then he doubles down, kissing and licking and biting and sucking until your legs tremble. It feels like he is eating you alive, and you lose yourself in the sensation. His arms clamp around you, his hands splay wide against your shoulders, and it’s a damned good thing, because you don’t think you could stand on your own right now.

He presses you against the wall and slips down the straps of your dress to get better access to your shoulders, and he works his mouth across your soft skin. As he kisses his way lower, he tugs your dress down, and your breasts spill out into the cool air. He cups your breast and squeezes it gently, then breaks away from you with a frustrated growl.

“What?” you ask in a breathy voice that verges on a whine.

Tup doesn’t reply, just bites down on the middle finger of his glove and yanks it off his hand, and it’s the sexiest kriffing thing you’ve ever seen. He opens his mouth and drops the glove to the floor, and then that mouth is on you, and his bare hand is stroking and exploring and touching, and he lets out a groan of pleasure so intense that it almost sounds pained as his lips close over your nipple. 

You hold his head against your chest, tangling your fingers in his long, soft curls. You hear a telltale zip, and your dress loosens and slides to the floor. Tup drops to his knees in front of you, and the abrupt motion tugs your hand down—one of your rings has caught in his hair and yanked it, hard.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” you exclaim. “Let me get that out.”

“No, wait,” he says, and his voice is a deep rumble. His eyes are dark and hungry as he gazes up at you. “I liked it.”

You swallow, your breath coming quickly and your pulse racing in your throat. You wrap your fingers carefully around a large fistfull of his hair and give it an experimental tug. Instantly, he tips his head backward, his eyes drift closed, his mouth drops open, and bliss floods his features. 

“Oh, shit,” you whisper. “You did like it, didn’t you?”

He opens his eyes and stares wordlessly into yours. His gaze lowers slowly, so incredibly slowly, down your body, drinking in every centimeter of you, until it reaches the lacy, barely-there scrap of fabric that is your pitiful excuse for underwear. He licks his lips, and you see his throat contract as he swallows. Sliding his hands up your thighs, he hooks his fingers under the elastic and eases them down your thighs. They don’t make it past your knees before he dives forward to slide his tongue into your sweetness.

“Tup!” you gasp, clinging to his hair to support yourself and inadvertently pulling it much harder than you had before.

He grunts, a ragged and primal sound that vibrates against your clitoris and pulls an answering moan from your throat.

“Again,” he begs, nearly choking on the word.

So you give him what he wants, digging both of your hands into his hair, scraping your nails across his scalp, and pulling his hair hard enough to control the movement of his head. He kneels before you like a supplicant before his goddess, and when he opens his eyes to gaze up at you as he feasts on your cunt, you see a tear roll from the corner of his eye.

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask. “Am I being too rough?”

He shakes his head as much as he is able within your grasp. “No, please keep going.”

His hands grasp your ass to angle you closer to his mouth, and you can feel that he still has one glove on. The fabric feels slightly abrasive as he brushes his thumb over your entrance, and holy shit, you don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is.

“Oh, fuck,” you say, drawing out the words in a desperate groan.

Tup notices the way you writhe against him, and he slides his gloved thumb into you, working you open carefully, slowly, and you feel the fabric begin to glide smoothly against your skin as it becomes saturated with your arousal. All of the muscles in your body begin to tense, and the world narrows around you, until all you see is Tup, and all you feel is his mouth and his hands and his soft, soft hair. He has large hands and thick fingers, and with the additional bulk of his glove, he stretches you gloriously, even as his tongue and lips swirl and suck, and the tension winds tighter, concentrating low in your abdomen— oh shit, fuck yes, right there—

“Don’t stop!” you command, and he sucks hard, and gods fucking yes Tup right there that’s it that’s it FUCK!

You lurch and grind against him, and your legs buckle as you shatter with a ragged scream. Beneath you, Tup lets out a broken, choked whimper as your hands clutch into his hair and pull his head against you, seizing your pleasure.

As your consciousness returns to your body and the haze of lust clears from your eyes, you carefully disentangle your fingers from his hair and brush it tenderly out of his face. He stares up at you with dazed eyes, and when he leans back, you see a dark stain on the front of his uniform trousers.

“Oh, Tup, my sweet boy,” you say as you kneel and pull him into your arms.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t normally—You’re just really—”

“Shh,” you soothe him. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart.”

He drops his head onto your shoulder and nuzzles against your neck. You stroke your hands across his broad shoulders comfortingly.

“Do you want to stay over?” you offer. “My laundry droid can wash your uniform.”

“Really?” he asks. 

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Nobody has ever asked me to stay the night before,” he confesses, and your heart breaks, just a little.

“How long did you say you were going to be on leave?” you ask.

“Five days,” he replies.

“Got any plans?”

He shakes his head and turns to look at you with hope in his soft eyes.

“Good,” you say decisively. “Then we’ll have plenty of time to do that again.”

---

Masterlist

Notes:

Cerra is an OC who will be in my next longfic. I wanted to give her a happy memory to make her torment in the next fic all the more poignant, because angst is so much more delicious when you remember the fluff.

The Pabu Colada is a real drink, and you can find the recipe here!

#is chekhov's ring a thing? #bruh girls make the best wingwomen #dystopicjumpsuit writes #tcw fanfic #star wars tcw #sw fanfic #sw tcw fanfic #clone simp #tup x reader #clone trooper tup

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt. 3

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Some suggestive themes regarding heat cycles and general awkwardness. Also Layla is a playful omega causing trouble for the boys.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

A sweet scent filled your nose, drawing you slowly from your slumber. Reaching out with your hand, you were met with the softest sheets you’ve felt in a long time. A silky hand lightly traced along your cheek and combed back your hairline in a soothing manner. You leaned into the touch, finally starting to come back to consciousness.

“Hey, pretty girl,” a saccharine female voice lulled you back.

You groaned, feeling the aches returning to your body as your eyes fluttered.

With a slow blink, you winced at how bright the lights were, longing to return to the comforting darkness behind your eyes.

“Her vitals are coming back,” the voice said, moving to brush your hair away from your face. “You can get the General now.”

You finally started to adjust to the white lights. Looking around, you took in the stark hospital room, along with the massive window of stars to your left. Sitting on the stool next to you was a face you didn’t expect to see outside the field.

“Layla?” you croaked, feeling how hoarse your voice had become.

“Hey,” she gave you a sweet smile, never leaving your side.

“Where…?” you tried sitting up, but she gently kept you lying down with a small, manicured hand. “W-where am I?”

You recognized the room as a Republic vessel. This certainly wasn’t the Marauder.

“You’re on General Skywalker’s Venator,” she informed you.

You scrunched your nose in confusion. “H-how?”

“Your squad brought you here,” she kept combing your scalp with her nails. “You had a pretty bad accident.”

You stared at her, struggling to piece together the events that led you here. How had you ended up back on Skywalker's ship? Wasn't he on Coruscant for repairs?

"Why are you here? You never leave the clinic," you noted, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I wouldn't have, but I was with the boys when they received the call," Layla explained, with a sweet smile. "They thought I should come and be with you. And there was no way my boss was turning down a directive from General Skywalker."

You sighed, still grappling with confusion. Where was your squad? Was the 501st here? Your mind raced with questions until Layla offered you a glass of ice-cold water, which you eagerly accepted.

You looked down at your hands, seeing the deep purple bruises on your left wrist along with the scraps and cuts. Suddenly, you started to remember what happened. The wild look in Hunter’s eyes as he manhandled you around the ship. The way he threw you like a rag doll, trying to tear the implant out of you. You gasped and went to touch your shoulder where he had cut you.

Layla watched you with concern. "It's okay. We patched you up. The sniper did a decent job, but you passed out when they brought you on board."

"What?" you looked at her, recalling Crosshair's unexpected assistance and protection.

You remembered his uncharacteristic behavior, both his hostility and his unexpected care. It was a jarring contrast to his usual demeanor.

“Strange Alpha,” she smiled. “He snarled at us when we tried to get you to the medical wing. He only agreed to let you go when he realized omegas would be treating you. I thought he was going to take Kix’s head off. He carried you all the way up here.”

You looked at her with shock in your eyes. Crosshair? He doesn’t give a crap about anyone… Especially not you…

“If you knew him, you’d be shocked hearing that,” you tried to laugh, but your throat was killing you. She laughed.

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps signaled the arrival of General Skywalker. With a kind smile, he greeted Layla before turning his attention to you, offering a warm embrace that elicited a wince from your still-aching body. You didn’t miss the way Layla’s cheeks flushed pink in his presence. 

"Explain yourself," he teased, though his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you were tired of taking beatings, which is why you left us."

You chuckled weakly, feeling a pang of guilt at his playful reproach. You knew he and the others were likely unsettled by your departure. They didn’t like their pack mates straying too far.

"If I had known this was in store, I would have stayed," you joked, gesturing to your bruises. "Your hair has gotten long," you noted, observing its length.

An amused smirk played across his lips. 

"Can someone tell me what happened?" you asked, still bewildered. "How did I end up here? Where's my unit? Is Hunter okay?"

Anakin hesitated, exchanging a glance with Layla before responding. "Sergeant Hunter? He's alive," he assured you, explaining the situation as best he could.

“He’s alive?” you asked confirming. “I-I had, I had to…” you remembered pulling the trigger. The sound his blaster made and the look on his face when he realized what you did. The monitors next to your head started beeping faster with your anxious heart rate.

“He’s alive,” Anakin said trying to calm you. “They had to run some tests on him to make sure the chemical compounds were out of his system. I-I didn’t know exactly what happened until your pilot informed me. He said the Sergeant was exposed to drugs that caused him to attack you…”

“He brutalized her,” Layla growled, looking you over. You were covered head to toe in bruises. Layla had cried when she saw the cut he had made, tearing out your implant, then the bruises. When she had peeled Crosshair’s shirt from you, she had sobbed seeing the bruises littering your entire form.

You lowered your eyes to the sheets, starting to feel like you were going to cry again.

“He didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t in his right mind,” you whispered, feeling guilty for shooting him.

Anakin sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to console you.

“You did what you had to do, Tiny,” Anakin reminded you. “He’s a soldier. He understands that.”

Layla huffed. Omegas understood alphas can be cruel. That’s just the universe we live in. But it was eating up your friend to see the damage you withstood.

“We are working with the survivor. She’s trying to help us understand what happened to your Sergeant. But until then…” he stood up and walked to the door, “You have a lot of very anxious pack members waiting to see you.”

He opened the door, and not a moment later, two blurs of white and blue came barreling into the room.

“Tiny!” Fives and Jesse flung themselves on top of you. Anakin left with a smile, leaving you to be dog-piled by his men.

“Ugh!” you barked on impact. Jesse snuggled into your side while Fives curled up on your feet. Just like pups. You winced as their armor collided with the fresh bruises.

“Tiny, I thought you died!” Jesse wailed, clinging onto your side.

“I’m okay,” you petted his head.

“I’ll get some more bacta for those bruises,” Layla giggled and stood up, leaving the boys to rub up on you with their comforting scents.

“I was worried,” Fives squeezed your ankle. “We had just gotten to the hangar when we got the distress call.”

“How did you get here?” you asked.

“We met you halfway. The cruiser was en route for Naboo. Crait was one system over, so we just met in the middle. You had us all types of worried, even the General.”

“Are you hungry?” Layla asked suddenly.

You nodded. You couldn’t even remember the last time you ate. She left the room, presumably to get something from the mess.

“What happened out there?” Fives asked.

“Hunter got hit with something and went crazy. I had to shoot him,” you felt the tears coming back.

“Aw,” Jesse hugged you, “It’s okay, Tiny.”

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you whimpered, letting the tears fall. “He’s my Sergeant. I didn’t know what else to do. I was so worried I had killed him.”

Jesse just hugged you. They all knew about your aversion to guns. You spent your days patching up the aftermath; you never wanted to participate in the violence.

“Where’s Kix?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

“He’s treating your Sergeant,” Fives chirped.

“And the others?”

“Who? The 99’s?”

“Yeah. They’re pacing a hole in the hangar bay floor,” Jesse chuckled.

“You should have just stayed back on base, Tiny,” Fives nudged you. “Could’ve been curled up with the Commander right now.”

You screeched and slapped him, “I almost died, and you’re making jokes?” Your grin gave you away. It totally wasn’t the racing heart monitor beeping aggressively in the background.

 The three of you laughed. It felt so good to have them with you; it made the constant body aches more tolerable. You missed your pack more than anything. You hadn’t ever fully recovered after Ahsoka leaving. None of you did. It felt like a massive hole every time you saw the boys. That’s why you had to go too. You had to get away for a bit. You saw the heartbreak in their eyes, but you knew it’s what you needed. But this, this was starting to make you feel like you belonged again, even without the rowdy togruta that made you all smile.

Layla returned with a steaming platter of whatever food they had in the mess. She settled back down next to you, setting it in your lap.

“Mmm,” you groaned, smelling the braised Shaak roast. You grabbed the spork and dug in. Jesse leaned over, snagging a piece of the meat and slurped it down. Layla scolded him, trying to protect your meal from their grabby hands.

You just giggled and listened to their stories about their most recent trip down to Naboo’s surface with intrigue while you finished off your food. You could have licked the plate and would have if there weren’t people watching.

While you were sipping the last of the blue milk, Layla took your tray from you and set it down on the nightstand. “The Sergeant has been medically cleared. I just wanted to let you know.”

You looked up at her, “Can I go see him?”

The three just looked at you a little uneasy.

“Are you sure?” Layla asked, clearly concerned for your mental well-being. The man did just brutally attack you not even 24 standard hours ago.

You nodded. You were sure. The guilt was eating you alive.

“Okay,” she nodded and helped you stand up. She helped you slip into a pair of loose white sweatpants and tied them around your hips. The boys turned away when she helped peel the gown off of you. You winced, raising your hands over your head, feeling every muscle burn and ache. She gently wrapped a fresh set of bindings over your breasts and lowered a loose white T-shirt, some of the physical therapy patients used in treatment. The material was soft and stretchy. You liked it. It was so much better than the cotton surgical gown.

“You can look,” you said to the boys, and they got up to help with your walk down to the hangar bay. Layla insisted you at least put on a pair of socks against the freezing floor while Fives wrapped your arm around his and Jesse supported your waist as the four of you made a slow journey down to the hangar bay. You practically let them carry you, quickly realizing you should have asked for a high dose pain killer. Hunter really had done a number on you.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” Layla asked one last time.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you nodded, “I just need to make sure he’s okay with my own eyes.”

Layla nodded and held the lift door open while you and the boys shuffled out into the hangar bay. Over to the left, you saw the Marauder parked next to a row of assault transports and drop ships.

“Woah,” Layla said, shocked at the sheer size of the military ships. You had forgotten she’s never been aboard a Venator before.

“Impressive, huh?” Fives laughed at her wide eyes.

They stopped when you made it around the corner. Over next to the Marauder was your unit sitting on some ammunition crates talking with the scientist from Crait, Rex, and General Skywalker. You stood there holding onto Fives when Tech noticed you. He perked up, getting Hunter’s attention. The Sergeant whipped his head around, staring at you. The first thing you noticed was the many layers of bandages wrapped around his middle and his shredded top. You could have thrown up seeing what you did to him. He still wore his lower armor, but his top was barely holding on by a few threads.

“Pip!” Wrecker yelled, getting everyone else’s attention.

You let go of Fives and slowly made your way over to the Sergeant. He stood there and lowered his gaze, unable to look you in the eyes. Your heart broke. You could see the guilt eating him up. Skywalker watched the Sergeant carefully in case anything changed suddenly; he wasn’t entirely sure how you were going to react. When you were close enough to him, you broke out into a jog, unable to bear it any longer. Letting out a low whine, you threw yourself at him, wrapping yourself into his chest.

He was shocked, standing there unsure what to do. He had expected you to tell Skywalker to execute him on the spot. Slowly, he lowered his arms and embraced you gently, still afraid to touch you. He didn’t want to hurt you again, no matter how warm your embrace was.

He smelled your tears before he saw them, and his heart shattered.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, pressing yourself further into his chest. You were desperate for his forgiveness; he could smell it all over you. But once again, he was shocked.

“Why are you sorry, Pip?” he looked down at you. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Crosshair grunted from behind them.

“I-I thought I killed you,” you sighed, feeling guilty for hurting him.

He let you go despite your protests and kneeled down in front of you. "I’m the one who is sorry, adi’ka," he said earnestly, now seeing all the damage he caused: bruises in the shape of his hands on your neck and arms. The smell emanating from him made you cry even more, and he felt terrible, the poor alpha. You knelt down with him and pressed yourself into him again, trying to comfort him. "Look what I did to you," his voice choked with emotion.

He was so upset and horrified. "You should hate me right now," he said.

"It wasn’t you, Sarge," you croaked out, trying to coax him into embracing you again. "And I hurt you. I could have— I-I—" You stuttered, looking at the side you put a bullet through, biting your lip until it bled. He let go of any restraint and wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into his neck.

"I’m so sorry, adi’ka," he whispered, petting down your hair and holding you close.

The others watched the interaction in silence. Even the scientist, who was just getting to know these people, observed with curiosity, trying to understand your dynamic with these defective alpha clones.

"But next time," he pulled back, making you look him in the eyes, "you put that bullet in my head, or any alpha that ever hurts you. Do you understand?"

You just looked up at him, chewing on your lip, and gave him a little nod. He wiped your tears with his thumb and pulled you back into him. "You’re lucky, pip. It’s hard to stop an alpha like that. You’re a very strong omega."

You sat there shaking and bonding back with your sergeant, giving him the same comfort you needed. The others slowly returned to their conversation, but you two remained on the floor, sitting near one another. You kept yourself wrapped around his arm while he petted your damaged wrist, trying to soothe away the bruises.

"What possessed your team to go to Crait?" Skywalker questioned the scientist. She adjusted the thermal blanket around herself, appearing cleaner than before. She must have been able to shower and run a comb through her hair. It was a stark difference from when Wrecker had brought her on board the Marauder.

"We were informed that separatist forces were opening mining operations on Crait. We were instructed to figure out what they were looking for," she said. "When we realized the dangers of the compounds, it was already too late. My only speculation was that they figured out that the spice from Crait was different and it could affect your designations so drastically."

"What happened to your team?" Rex asked.

"I had a team of omegas," she said, looking at you. "They died from extreme heat symptoms. Their systems just gave out."

"And that explains what happened to Hunter?" Tech asked, noting everything down on his datapad.

"I believe so," she said, looking to the sergeant who protectively surrounded you. "It has all the normal symptoms of a spice high, but for the designations, it seems to elicit a different response. Omegas go into an incurable heat, and alphas become… something else."

You shivered, making Hunter tighten his hold.

"Why are the separatists collecting this spice?" Crosshair’s silvery voice cut in.

"I don’t have any confirmation on my theory, but—" She looked around at everyone present. "You have an entire army of Alphas. I can only imagine what would happen when they’re exposed on the battlefields… You’d all go mad."

"Thousands of rutting alphas in close proximity," Rex sighed. "They’d turn on one another."

She nodded.

General Skywalker immediately left to make a call with the council to report the findings. Hunter stood up, pulling you up with him before lifting you and setting you on one of the ammo crates. His alpha instincts were itching, desperate to care for you. He grabbed a spare blanket from under Tech and wrapped it around you before tucking you into a little cocoon.

Tech and the others watched in amusement, seeing their leader fuss about how wrapped up you were in the wool fabric.

You just smiled and let him get it out of his system, knowing he couldn’t help it. You both went through such a trauma. It was all part of the reconciliation ritual between an alpha and omega. You got a little emotional, realizing he may even view you as a pack member with how he’s acting. You’d make sure to ask him later on.

Then Layla dumped a metaphorical ice bucket on the two of you. "There’s something else I have to tell you, Y/N," she said, stepping forward, careful not to get in Hunter’s way.

"Hmm?" you asked, starting to feel a little giddy with all the attention.

"I-I…" Her face betrayed her soft-spoken nurse voice. She looked anxious. "I wasn’t able to give you a replacement implant… neither of you."

Hunter stopped what he was doing and looked at the medic.

She continued nervously, "We tested your hormones and found alpha pheromones in your bloodstream. It’s sending you into a breakout heat. We can’t give you another implant until you do."

Hunter suddenly lifted his hands from you and stepped back, realizing what he was doing. The two of you didn’t have effective suppressants and were acting like a bonding pair. It was your scent driving him to do all of this. He flashed back to him licking at your wounds on the ship. He could shoot himself at this very moment; the guilt was setting in again.

He looked at the medic. "What does that mean?"

You were a little annoyed he wasn’t touching you anymore, but you looked to your friend. "I have to have a heat?" You could cry.

She nodded, still keeping her distance from the alpha, not wanting to be perceived as a threat. "I was going to wait a bit and hope you’d have more time, but you’re both displaying traits that have me a little concerned."

"Well then we’ll have to keep them separate," Fives pointed out.

Hunter made a low growl.

Layla made a face as Hunter proved her point. Rex just crossed his arms and walked forward. "We can’t have an omega in heat on this ship. We have suppressors for a reason. She’ll force everyone into a rut, and then it would be a disaster around here.”

Layla also didn’t like the idea of being trapped on a ship full of horny alphas.

“So then what do we do?” Wrecker asked.

Hunter moved to get closer to you again, but Crosshair tutted, flipping the firepuncher to stun. The sergeant stopped and looked at his brother challengingly.

“You take her down to Naboo,” Crosshair said, keeping his weapon trained on his brother. “Leave her at a heat center and put Hunter back on his suppressors.”

You whined, not liking that idea either.

“Absolutely not,” Hunter and the other 501st boys objected.

“You don’t have a choice,” Crosshair drawled. “She’s slipping quickly, and there’s no other solution. I can smell her through the suppressants.”

“Crosshair would be correct,” Tech agreed. “I see there are five locations just in Theed. And while I acknowledge that heat centers are not ideal places, there is no one here equipped to assist Y/N without mating with her. Which we also know is not an option.”

You gulped when they all looked at you. Suddenly, you were starting to feel warm, knowing Crosshair was correct. You realized you didn’t have much time.

“I’ll take her,” Layla offered, knowing Hunter would put up the least resistance with her.

“You need a pilot,” Echo stood up. “I’ll come with. We’ll keep an eye on her,” he said to Hunter, trying to convince him to stand down.

Hunter’s scent was getting stronger by the second, and they knew you wouldn’t budge without his direct consent.

“Vod,” Crosshair urged.

Hunter looked at you with soft eyes. “Is that what you want, adi’ka?”

You tightened the blanket around yourself. “They’re right. I don’t have a choice,” your voice was meek.

He knew you were scared; he could hear your heart fluttering and your anxiety filled his nose.

He begrudgingly stepped to the side, allowing you to slide off the crate and limp over to Layla. She gave a quick goodbye before helping you over to one of the smaller transports. Rex gave the clearance while the other boys ran to fetch your clothes and shoes.

Crosshair kept his rifle aimed at Hunter while he fought all of his instincts to board the transport with you.

“It’s better this way,” Crosshair offered his consolation.

Hunter was devastated watching the transport leave the hangar bay and make a direct line to Theed.

“Alright, buddy, open up,” Wrecker tossed the bottle of suppressors at Hunter, who caught it and groaned before popping two in his mouth with a growl.

The heat center was nicer than you imagined. Everything in Naboo was actually so beautiful. You haven’t even been but you’d heard stories from some of the troopers. The whole planet was stunning, but the care put into all of their buildings was hypnotizing. 

You stared up at the art inside the dome ceiling while Layla and Echo checked you into the system. A protocol droid waddled up to you taking your small amount of belongings before walking you to your designated suite. You waved to Layla and Echo before disappearing down the stone hallway. Everything was starting to get foggy in your mind. You couldn’t even remember what Layla had said to you before she left. 

You were a little nervous. You had two years of suppressants to work off. You knew this was going to be a grueling week. 

“Here you go Mistress Y/N” The 3PO- Protocol droid opened the door for you, “This will be your home for the week.” 

You stepped inside smelling the sterile cleaning supplies inside the lush room. There was an area with a holoscreen, a small living room, a kitchen, bedroom, and full bath. This was way better than any place on Coruscant. You looked around getting familiar with the space. 

“Food will be delivered three times a day, but the door will remain locked until you’ve been cleared. It’s a safety precaution  for the other guests.” The droid rattled on setting your things down on the dresser top. 

“There will be round the clock medical care if needed. If you need anything please let us know.” It finished its routine before scuttling back to the door and closing it behind it. You heard the locks slide into place and settled in. 

It didn’t take long at all for the warmth to shoot up through your body again. You changed back into the comfier therapy clothes you had in the hangar bay before settling onto the couch to turn on the holonet. You preened at the smell of Hunter still lingering on your clothes. You had rubbed up against him leaving his smokey scent all over the soft fabric. You picked up the front of your shirt and brought it to your nose inhaling the scent. 

Shit. You didn’t remember it feeling like this. The warmth became scalding forcing you up onto your feet. You made a beeline for the bathroom turning on the fresher to cold. You stripped out of your clothes and stepped into the glass shower letting the cold water drench you. 

You sighed feeling the relief. That was then the slick started to produce between your legs. You whined trying to wash it away. When you were satisfied with being somewhat clean. You shut the water off and grabbed a towel wrapping it around yourself. 

A wave of cramps hit you making you yelp and double over. 

“Kriff.” You shouted feeling like you’d been hit by a bantha. What the hell did you sign up for. 

Crawling over to the bed you brought the clothing with you feeling the urge to start forming a nest. The cramping began to ebb the more you leaned into instinct. You rearranged the pillows to surround you along with the comforter and sheets. You placed the scented clothing right up against your nose obsessively breathing it in like oxygen.

You groaned feeling more cramps churning your insides. You reached down between your legs feeling the wetness spreading everywhere. You ran your fingers through your folds before settling on your clit. Desperate for some relief you began circling the nerves making yourself twitch. Your orgasm came quickly but it barely took the edge off. You were craving more. You needed to be filled and stretched. You craved a rough fucking. You tried again but once again it didn’t do much. You wailed and tossed and turned praying for relief. You really had wished you stayed with the Commander or let the Venator to fall into madness because right now you needed an Alpha. A big, strong, powerful alpha.

You wanted the Sargent…

~~~

When Layla came to collect you eight days later, she said you looked like a drowned rat.

The cleaning droids had come and gone, leaving the place sterile once again. They had washed your clothes, repaired your uniform, and shined your boots, leaving them outside the bedroom in a neat pile.

You felt yourself come back to yourself on the sixth day, but you weren’t totally back to normal. The box of toys left for your convenience had been thoroughly dirtied, along with all of the soft fabrics in your nest. You had even shredded the clothing scented by Hunter on one particularly bad night. The droids had pried the ripped-up fabric out of your pathetic grip and disposed of it, insisting it was a safety hazard, whatever that meant. On the seventh day, a medical droid determined you were out of the thick of it. The droid had also informed you that your bruises had healed entirely.

You were starving and dehydrated. The droids had left food, but you didn’t care one bit during the week. You couldn’t snap out of the frenzy long enough to eat anything anyway. Usually, an alpha has to command you to eat, and without that, you were lost to the madness of the heat.

Layla had helped brush your hair after your final bath. You had scrubbed down in scent-neutralizing soaps before slipping into the repaired Republic uniform. She put your hair in a simple braid, trying to keep the knots out. You munched down on the lunch served to you and happily drank the water, making your friend happy. You popped two bacta pills for the soreness and called it a mission complete.

When it was officially time to go, you thanked the droids before stepping outside with Layla.

“I’m almost scared to ask,” she sighed, interlocking your arms.

“It was horrible,” you shook your head, “Like the place was nice, but it’s been so long I almost forgot.”

She hummed, “That’s why you gotta find a hot alpha.”

“Well, I almost had one, but everyone tore us apart,” you nudged her playfully.

She gasped, “You’re a little-”

“What?” you laughed, “You said it first.”

“He looked like he was going to bend you over that container before I said something,” she pinched you and you squealed.

“Maker help us,” you smiled, noticing Echo waiting awkwardly in the lobby.

“I wonder what he’s like,” she whispered before Echo could hear. You just gave her a playful look. You had a feeling Hunter was a more dominant Alpha. He was a sergeant, after all. But especially since you’ve been on the receiving end of his full strength, you know he could manhandle you like you weighed nothing.

“I had a whole week to think about it,” you thought about how you had run your voice hoarse crying out for your sergeant. The omega in you had nearly snapped from him not being present. The scent on your clothes acted as a cruel torture.

“Hi Tiny,” Echo smiled sweetly. You skipped forward and hugged him.

“Miss me Echo?” you beamed.

“Always Tiny,” he ruffled your head, “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you laughed awkwardly, “Do I smell?”

“No, you’re all clear,” he took your shoulders in his grip and led you out of the building towards the waiting transport.

“Yay,” you were excited to get back to the Venator. You were hoping Anakin would let your unit stay until you received a new mission. You missed having so much personal space.

The ride back to the Venator was short from the surface of Naboo. Echo pulled into the hangar bay and set the transport down softly. You suddenly got a little nervous to face your unit. Not saying what you went through this past week was shameful by any means, it was just a bit awkward that they knew what had just happened. They knew way too much.

“I want to get your new implant in if that’s alright with you, Y/N,” Layla said, stepping off the ship with you. You nodded and opted to follow her out of the hangar bay and into the medical wing.

“I’m heading back to Coruscant now that I know you’re okay. Fives and the boys said that General Kenobi was supposed to be arriving soon with his unit. I just wanted to let you know. I think I’m heading out tonight after dinner.”

“Aw, okay,” you sighed, wishing you had some more time with your friend, “How was living on a Venator for a week?” you nudged her.

She smiled, “I don’t know how you think straight with so many hot alphas running around.” The troopers posted at the doorways perked up.

“It was weird at first, but most of them are alright,” you smiled, “Especially Rex’s boys. They’re very sweet.”

“Sweet?” her tone shifted to something sultry, “I wanna ride that captain.”

Multiple troopers walking by whipped their heads around to stare at your friend as you passed. You turned red and ducked your head laughing.

“Layla!” you chastised.

She just smirked, “I got a thing for blondes.”

“Oh my god.”

“…and authority.”

“Layla!” you screeched, turning down towards the medical wing.

“Have you seen the way he holds that gun?” she bit her lip, “Ugh, being an omega around all these soldiers is really difficult.”

“I’m going to throw you into a cold shower,” you pleaded for her to stop.

She loved making you loosen up and gossip with her. You had seen her during your trainee days and knew she was a little wild omega. The way she had those alphas in the club wrapped around her manicured finger always kept you entertained.

“I saw him out of the armor,” she mused, “Right after training. Mmm. I almost fell to my-.”

You rounded the corner to the medical exam room, finding said Captain and his boys waiting in the lobby, helmets in hand. They all turned to face the two of you, making you stop in your tracks and snap your mouth shut.

“Oh, hi Captain,” Layla’s voice was saccharine as she gave him a little wave and a once-over.

You giggled, walking forward through the crowd stifling both of your laughs.

“Layla,” he gave her a proper nod, “Tiny, you’re back?”

You panicked, “Yes, sir,” it came out more flustered than you had wished.

Rex raised a brow.

The boys watched you two disappear behind the divider curtains. You turned to her and silently made a funny face at her which she returned, “Yes, sir?” she mimicked silently before grabbing her injector kit.

“What was that all about?” Kix asked, looking up from his datapad.

You didn’t miss the way some of the boys tried to silently laugh at the very awkward interaction.

“Nothing, Kix,” you smirked.

Layla bit her lip, “Up,” she patted the table.

You jumped up, moving your collar out of the way. She sterilized the injection site before placing the mechanism up to your skin. As Layla finished administering the implant, she couldn't resist adding a playful jab. 

"Try to keep this one inside you this time," she quipped, her tone laden with mischief.

Kix, caught off guard, choked on his own breath, nearly dropping his datapad in surprise. His eyes widened as he struggled to compose himself, realizing the unintended innuendo.

Tiny yelped at Layla's crude joke, a mix of embarrassment and amusement coloring her cheeks. She shot a quick glance at Kix, who was now sporting a flustered expression, his cheeks flushed.. 

More snickering erupted from behind the privacy curtain, where the other troopers couldn't contain their amusement at the exchange.

"I'll try my best," Tiny replied, her voice tinged with laughter, trying to diffuse the tension. But the mischievous glint in Layla's eyes hinted that she was far from finished.

Before Kix could recover from his embarrassment, Layla leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, Kix, I've heard suppressant injections can be quite stimulating."

Kix's eyes widened even further, if that were possible, as he struggled to find a response, his mind clearly racing to keep up with Layla's playfulness. She bent over giving him a good look up her uniform skirt when she grabbed the bin of implant cartridges.

Tiny, trying to contain her laughter, shot Layla a warning look, silently pleading for her to stop before things got even more awkward. But Layla, clearly enjoying herself, wasn't about to let up.

"Just be careful not to get too excited," Layla added with a mischievous grin, before finally pushing Tiny out of the exam room.

As they emerged from behind the curtains, Tiny couldn't help but blush furiously, knowing that the entire 501st garrison had likely overheard the entire exchange. But Layla seemed unfazed, her playful demeanor still intact as she greeted the troopers with a sly smile.

The sight of Kix, still visibly flustered, only added to the amusement of the moment, as the troopers exchanged knowing glances and suppressed giggles. Just as you passed through the curtains, she gave you a sharp slap on the ass and a wink before turning back to her injector. Your cheeks burned hot pink as most of the 501st garrison looked at you with varying smirks.

You gasped and covered your mouth, refusing to look Rex or anyone in the eye before scurrying out of the lobby. You could feel everyone’s eyes glaring into the back of your head. I’m going to kill Layla.

“Alright, who’s here for a replacement?” you heard Layla’s teasing voice behind you. Then a symphony of troopers were suddenly vying for her attention, just begging to go first.

With a sigh, you’d had your fun, you realized you needed to show face with at least one member of your unit so they knew you were still alive.

Even though you had absolutely no clue where they could be. If it was up to Wrecker, they’d be in the mess. If it was Tech, they’d be in the engine room, probably causing curiosity-based chaos. Crosshair would be in the armory, and Hunter? He’d probably be in the barracks somewhere. You decided you weren’t in the mood for guessing and just pulled out your com device, “Hey, is anyone there?” you asked.

You waited a few seconds before Wrecker answered, “Pip is that you? Are you back?” he sounded happy.

“Yeah, Wrek, where are you guys?”

“We're in the barracks,” Tech replied.

“Okay, I’m coming,” you turned around, walking in the other direction.

The walk to the barracks was short. A couple of nice troopers pointed you in the right direction, and before you realized, you were there. The massive blast door was hard to miss. The door slid open, revealing your unit lying around in various bunks. Tech sat, legs crossed, leaning against the headboard of a lower bunk, messing with the electronics of his helmet, while Crosshair took the top. He was tossing and catching what looked like a silver ball into the air while swinging his long leg off the side in front of Tech’s face. Wrecker was in the center of the room, chowing down on a ration bar, while Hunter and Echo sat facing one another in the middle of a conversation.

“Pip!” Wrecker put down his ration bar and ran over to you. “Hi, Wrek, ahh!” you screamed as the big guy wrapped his behemoth arms around you and lifted you off the ground like a little tooka cat.

“Wrecker, put her down,” Hunter chastised.

“Ugh, fine,” he settled you back down gently before stepping back and grinning down at you, “I missed Pip. The pack wasn’t the same without you.” Your heart fluttered at the thought that he saw you as pack.

“I missed you too, Wrecker,” you smiled.

“How was the heat center?” Tech asked, looking up from his tools.

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed, but you had to clear the bantha in the room. You knew they had to be curious. “Ehh,” you bit your lip tilting you palm side to side, “It was far better than any place on Coruscant but nothing I’d like to repeat anytime soon.”

“It had good reviews on the holonet,” Tech replied.

You giggled. Of course, he studied the reviews.

“You look thin,” Crosshair pointed out, displeased, “Did they even feed you?”

“Thanks, Cross,” your mood soured, feeling a little self-conscious, “And yes, they gave me food.”

He snarked and went back to tossing his toy around in the air.

“I’m shocked the GAR didn’t send you guys on a mission somewhere while I was gone,” you said, realizing how bored they appeared. Had they really been here the whole time?

“Command heard about what happened. I think they felt bad and decided to give us a small break until you got back,” Hunter said sympathetically, standing up from his bunk.

You just nodded. He looked at you strangely. You were hoping he didn’t still feel guilty.

“And,” he shifted to one side, looking uncomfortable, “They want to know if you desire a unit transfer after everything that’s happened…” he looked deflated.

Wrecker whined from behind you clearly upset with that possibility. You looked at him and the others, realizing how sad they looked at Hunters news. 

“A transfer?” you clarified.

Hunter nodded his head.

“They want to know if you don’t feel comfortable,” Echo said calmly.

You just stood there a little in shock.

“We’d understand if that was the case, Y/N,” Hunter said, trying to be the good sergeant. You gave it a moment of thought before turning to look at Wrecker, who looked dejected.

“No.”

“No?” Hunter repeated, sounding relieved.

“No,” you crossed your arms, “I’m not leaving… Do you want me to leave?”

Hunter shifted a little, “I don’t want you making a decision based on our feelings. We’ll be okay if that’s what you want.”

“You’re my pa-…you’re my squad,” you stood your ground, feeling a little insecure. You didn’t miss the way Crosshair stopped for a moment at your slip up. Did they not want to work with you now? Did you and Hunter mess up the dynamic? You couldn’t smell it, but you were certain Hunter could pick up on your stress.

“Pip is staying!” Wrecker was jovial. He was pumping his fists in the air like a little kid.

“I’m relieved to hear you are still wanting to work with us, Y/N,” Tech looked at you.

Echo got up and gave you a hug, “I was worried I was going to be losing my favorite stakeout buddy.”

You hugged him back, “I’m not going anywhere as long as you’ll all have me.”

They just smiled and started to settle back in.

“So what do we do now?” Crosshair asked. Clearly, none of them have ever been trapped on a Venator for long periods of time with nothing to do.

“We wait for orders,” Hunter said, sitting back on his bunk.

You slipped off your boots and curled up on the bunk next to theirs. You had a week of sleep to catch up on, and frankly, you were just excited to have a proper mattress to sleep on and you could move on from this horribly awkward situation. 

You were positive the missions would come rolling in soon. You guys were the best after all.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

I loved writing the Layla scenes so much. I'm hoping now that we have a baseline for the story I'll finally be bale to start working on Y/N's relationship with the bad batch.

To join the tag list comment down below!

@substantial-exposure

#abo #badbatch #abobadbatch #polybadbatch #clonewars #rex #hunter #tech #wrecker #crosshair #echo #anakin #smut #omega #heat #starwars

[valkeakuulas]

Careful what you wish for... here are three to pick and choose from:

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips. Kix and Jesse

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss Rex and Cody

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling Waxer and Boil

I threw the dice (twice!) and the fate wanted us to see some smooches shared between Kix & Jesse.

** ** ** ** Jesse laughed with others when Echo finished retelling about the accident both he and Fives had experienced during their ARC training. Next to him, Fives just huffed and swallowed a mouthful of the gutrot they had broken out to celebrate the return of the 501st's newest ARC troopers.

Jesse could feel Kix shaking behind him, the two of them sitting on the floor with Jesse between the medic's spread legs. One of Kix's arms was wrapped loosely around Jesse's waist, fingers drawing lazy circles on his abdomen.

A pleasant shiver ran down Jesse's spine at the touch and he shifted a little, arching ever so slightly. No one paid attention to him, their attention was on Fives who was answering questions about the training (and the size of 17's biceps).

Jesse grinned and was ready to ask about just how Fives knew the thickness of 17's thighs when a feather-light touch right behind his ear had him stilling.

Kix hummed softly and Jesse both heard and felt the vibrations of the sound against the shell of his ear. The medic's lips brushed against the soft cartilage, leaving behind a trail of the softest of kisses Jesse had ever felt.

"Kix," Jesse murmured, only to tense when Kix shushed him softly, nipping his earlobe before pressing a kiss on it.

Jesse's loud swallow got drowned by the loud wave of jeers as the others rained abuse on Fives. He could hear Kix chuckle right next to his ear, the sound sending a sizzle of pleasure down his spine.

"Kix," Jesse tried again, face heating up.

"Relax, Jesse," Kix told him, lips tracing the ear once again. The fingers that had been caressing his lower stomach slowly inched downwards, following the groove between Jesse's thigh and groin. "Let's see how long it'll take before they'll notice, yes?"

If hearing Kix laugh had lit a fire within Jesse's veins, the suggestion hit him with the gentleness of a Hammerhead corvette.

"Kark...," Jesse swore, face aflame.

Kix laughed again, breathless and smug. "Don't worry, I will," he promised darkly before mouthing the back of Jesse's neck.

Jesse could only whimper, the cup of alcohol in his hand completely forgotten.

#Kix #Jesse #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #fanfiction #OTP #clone shipping #askbox writing prompts #elismor #asks #valkeakuulas writes AKA butchers English grammar

[kimbureh]

TBB, Hunter & leadership as self-sacrifice

So far I have written a lot about Crosshair and only about Hunter in the context of his shortcomings. But Crosshair cannot be understood as a character without Hunter. Crosshair is susceptible to the Imperial allure not because their ideology is benefitting him, he turns towards it because he is aware the squad needs to change, but his only framework to conceptualize change makes him seek out an even more coercive system than the Republic. And, perhaps surprisingly, Hunter has the same strategy of clinging to Old Habits but Painting Them in A New Coat: Hunter's Bad Batch without Crosshair tries to emulate the dissolved Republican Army in that he still clings onto his leadership role when they are now free for the very first time to manage their group dynamics as they see fit.

Hunter is plagued by similar shame, fear, and an inferiority complex as Crosshair is, he simply draws different conclusions from them. Hunter is too ashamed of his failure as a leader to ask Crosshair to return with dignity. Hunter is afraid to lose control, because he is losing control in a galaxy that is wholly different than it used to be and is actively hunting them down. And then there is his inferiority complex. Think of Hunter in TCW: I think it's Jesse who wonders in front of Kix "what makes him so special?" "He puts up with the other three". Given how unfazed everyone is, this is probably not the first time the squad has encountered this reaction. And it's true: Different than the rest of the original Bad Batch, Hunter matches a regular Clone the most. Without his tattoo, hair, and bandana, he looks pretty much like a reg, he would be able to effortlessly blend in with them. But he chooses to let his hair grow and permanently alter his face with ink. He doesn't want to resemble a reg, because he looks down on them and prefers to distance himself from them. But it's also a reminder of his own otherness. He chooses the Bad Batch, but he has no real choice anyway, so he might as well lean into it.

And I think that's exactly his approach to leadership as well. Have you ever wondered why Hunter is the leader of the Batch? It seems so obvious, but the reason isn't because Hunter was exceptionally qualified for the role; he is leader because everyone else is exceptionally unqualified for the role. Hunter was either assigned this role or developed ambitions in that regard in order to pick up the slack of his squad. I think this is key to understanding Hunter. His self-image is one of self-sacrifice. He is hurting himself for the sake of the squad, and even more, he takes it for granted that everyone else does the same.

When Wrecker voices that he misses Crosshair, he is ignored by Hunter. Tech silently endures the situation, because Tech is the most aware of the inner squad dynamics, he is acutely attuned to Hunter's expectations and acts accordingly. Echo points out the Batch could have a more meaningful existence along Rex' resistance fight, and is flat out denied by Hunter with the non-explanation of "we're on a different path" (ok, chief? and which is that). Crosshair is the only one who doesn't submit to Hunter's game of mutual self-sacrifice. When Hunter offers Crosshair to return, it comes with a considerable price tag: he expects Crosshair to suck up all past infractions and swap submitting to the Empire with submitting to Hunter.

Different from the Empire, Hunter doesn't ask for submission because he sees himself as superior. No. He was assigned leader, and he clings to that role as one stabilizing factor in a rapidly changing world. Think back to the exchange between Jesse and Kix: who is Hunter if he's not a leader? Just a reg with face paint and a hairdo. That's what he believes. I think Hunter derives all his self-worth from his leadership role, even though he is not up to the task, and is so far incapable to construct a different identity. He tries to fulfill a father role, but even his interactions with Omega are colored by militaristic hierarchy: his parenting style includes calling her a soldier and thus coerce her into compliance-- Just as he learned as a child.

(as always, pls no season 2 spoilers, I haven't fully watched it yet.) (I've written a lot about TBB and Crosshair, check out the tag #tbb meta)

#tbb meta #star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb #tbb spoilers #sw tbb #sw tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch hunter #the clone wars #star wars #sw the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper hunter #crosshair tbb #hunter tbb #the bad batch crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb echo

[ladynaberrie]

you're walking tall (no need to hide)

Pairing: Kix x Translator!Reader

WC: 2.3k

Rating: T

You're assigned to the 501st again. Kix hovers.

part 1 part 2 part 3

sfw but mdni pls <3

Sometimes Kix wishes you were assigned to his unit more. 

It’s a stupid thing to dream about, certainly not something he should be thinking about when he’s on the precipice of sleep. He knows from chatter you tend to see more generals like Plo Koon and less of the Quinlan Vos types, which, rather unfortunately, includes General Skywalker. 

It’s unfortunate because he’s about had it with Senator Amidala’s protocol droid. (Whenever the golden droid drones on and on, Kix finds himself envious of Wolffe, who gets to see you more than he does).

But at the same time, it’s a relief, one less person to keep an eye on. If anything were to happen to you…

Well, there’s no real reason he should feel anything more than normal. He knows that, and he realistically knows he’d be fine, move on, and get to work. It’s war. Another day, another casualty. 

Kix’s train of thought derails. 

You weren’t made for war, he concludes. Not like him or his millions of vode. His childhood was math, combat, and logic problems that asked him to determine the difference between life and death. You got to follow your passion, and dream of languages and stories. (You probably never had to worry about the consequences of who you kissed).

Kix’s train of thought derails. Again. 

He tosses and turns in his bunk. This was going to be a long fucking night.

The next morning is infinitely better. In fact, Kix is elated.

You’re standing at attention next to Rex, and you look as pretty as ever. Your eyes drift over his unit before they land on him. The satisfaction he feels when your eyes stop on him for a second and light up in recognition is embarrassing. It should be studied on Kamino as an example of what can go wrong when a Clone meets a kind and pretty natborn. 

He tunes back into Rex, who’s relaying information from the General. The more the Captain goes on, the more effort it takes for Kix to not frown. This planet’s terrain was rough; rocky and steep, full of gnarled roots and obstacles. Not suited for you at all. And on top of that, there's a mountain you all will have to climb.

Fucking typical.

While Kix doesn’t like having to split his brainpower to factor you in, he’s not going to complain about having an excuse to stay close to you.

If you notice the way he’s orbiting you, keeping an eye on you, as you carefully step through especially uneven ground, you keep it to yourself. Kix is grateful for that. He’s already getting enough teasing on the internal commlink, as the transcript so kindly reminds him.

[FIVES: 30 credits Kix fumbles this.

JESSE: You’re on.

ECHO: 50 credits that he specifically tries to make his move while doing medic shit.]

But it seems you’re the one who makes a move first. You fall in step next to him, bumping into him in a friendly manner.

Kix grunts in greeting. The comm lights up as he gets absolutely slandered. He mutes it as Fives demands Jesse’s money.

“You know, you could talk to me instead of just hovering around.” He winces at the surge of activity in the transcript.

“Oh. I apologize, Officer.”

“Now, what has you so focused on me?” you ask in a sing-songy voice. Sing-songy? He's certainly never used that word before...

“Terrain. Worried about you falling,” he says gruffly, face heating up. He can practically hear Fives cackling.

“Oh. That’s very kind of you,” you say graciously, probably to save his pride.

He hums in response, mentally kicking himself. Was he going to need to take a class from Jesse on flirting? He’d never hear the end of it. But if it meant sweeping you off your feet the same way Jesse’s woos his person of the week…

He’d put up with teasing until the day he took his last breath.

The silence draws his attention back to you.

“It’s nice having you back. Million times better than Senator Amidala’s droid,” Kix says quickly, hoping to dispel the odd tension in the air. He’s rewarded by your laugh, and his chest feels warm. 

The transcript updates as Jesse goads Fives.

“C-3PO isn’t that bad. Though I will say Commander Wolffe sometimes ignores him if I’m there.” You giggle a little at the memory. Wolffe, huh? Kix frowns to himself, imagining Wolffe standing way too close to you. 

“Commander Wolffe may be onto something there…” he trails off. You glance at him from the side, sending him a pleased look that he wished he understood better.

The ground ahead of you two steepens rapidly. It’s nothing for a Jedi or a clone, but an unease settles in Kix’s stomach, eyes flicking down to your feet as you trek alongside him.

The mountain slope isn't completely vertical, and he's grateful for that. He is, however, ungrateful that the local lifeforms built their village at the very top of this peak.

“Well, I know you and Commander Wolffe, are pretty anti-droid, but they have their uses.” He rolls his eyes at that, thankful for his bucket.

“I think having a sentient translator in addition to a protocol droid makes sense. Access to a very large number of languages and automatic translation, paired with creative thinking, context, and interpretation. A decent team,” you finish, nodding to yourself. He would prefer C-3PO with you, as opposed to just the droid. But still.

“You’re smart enough to do that with just a datapad,” Kix argues, taking a large step up the incline. “And some protocol droids are clunky and can’t always move very fast.” You huff, following him up the slope. 

Kix slows down a little, eyeing the upcoming terrain, and he has to stop himself from audibly groaning. He just had to be grateful the slope wasn't vertical.

He eyes the cliif warily. It's a short climb with plenty of visible handhelds and ledges before the slope evens out again.

Kix gestures for you to go ahead of him. He’s got a feeling if anything were to happen, it would be here. You huff past him, slowly scaling the mountain.

“A kriffing datapad,” you say. “I guess…” you relent, diverting your brain power to not falling.

It grows quiet again as the majority of the company ascends with ease and continues onto the gentler slope.

Kix’s brows pinch together in annoyance; he somehow missed the fact that there was a fucking tiny cliff they'd have to scale. There must’ve been a better way to go about this. Did General Skywalker and Rex forget you would be with them?

Kix pauses on a relatively stable ledge, keeping an eye on you as you climb ahead. His eyes scan the area you're reaching for.

He notices it before you, but not soon enough, and Kix winces as you grab onto a loose rock. It gives way, and you let out a small scream, as you drop.

Reacting as fast as he can, Kix reaches to grab you. His arms grapple around you, pulling your back tight against him. You’re both upright, with Kix supporting the brunt of your weight.

It’s a somewhat awkward position, resembling a trust fall as opposed to some romantic carry. (Romantic? Kix scoffs at himself) It’s not by any means graceful or elegant, but you’re ok. Maybe a little shaken, but ok.

Keeping you pressed against him, he eyes you carefully, assessing any possible injury you may have sustained. When he reaches your face, he freezes. 

You've twisted to face him, and you’re looking at him in a way that makes him inhale sharply. It's a soft and warm look, one that Jesse and Fives are often on the receiving end of. Not him.

Fuck.

It’s at this moment he realizes his arms are still nestled above and below your chest, anchoring you to him. He snaps out of his haze, helping you stand.

“You all right, cyar’ika?” he asks, doing another survey for damage once you’re up. You nod before smiling sheepishly. 

“Good thing you kept such a good eye on me," you say gently, hand resting on his plastoid-covered forearm. His ego swells. 

Echo’s “PAY UP” in the transcript alerts Kix to the eyes on the two of you from above. He wants to curl around you and hide you away from the rest of his vode.

Based on the way you’re looking at him, Kix begins to think you may want the same thing. And the logical part of his brain is telling him he’s not sure it’s a good thing.

Kix’s doubts follow him all the way back to the star destroyer.

It was one thing when it was just him daydreaming, but now, it may no longer be one-sided.

It was one thing when he would steal glances at you from behind his helmet, but now, he sees you staring at him first.

It’s become something all too real because now there’s hope he’s not alone in this predicament.

Kix is pondering this development as he peels off bits of crusted-over synth flesh away from his arm. It’s been a tense day on The Resolute. At least for him.

Your close contact with him had made him lose focus for the rest of the mission. He's lucky he was the only casualty of his negligence.

He examines where his wound was. The skin color is normal; any internal or external trauma has healed. 

“Hi,” you chirp out, eyes widening a little as you enter the med bay. Kix meets your gaze, instincts firing up at the way your voice drops suddenly.

Your body’s stiff, face twisted into a flustered expression he wishes he could appreciate more. Kix tenses a little when he realizes what may have prompted your reaction. 

His blacks hang at his waist, leaving the upper half of his body exposed. He watches as your eyes dip down to his pecs before jumping to hover respectfully above his shoulder.

Interesting. 

Kix flexes a little, chest expanding in pride. 

“I just wanted to say thank you. For, uh, y'know...” you trail off. Your eyes zero in on his bicep, eager for a topic change. “And sorry you tripped. Are you alright?” Fucking hell.

All Kix wants is for a hole to open up in the side of the ship and pull him into the vacuum of space. (You would remain safe in this little morbid fantasy. Space and the Force are able to sense your innate goodness thereby saving you from his fate).

Kix settles on nodding, not wanting to discuss his embarrassing fall at the village. His brothers would never let him forget.

You shuffle forward until you’re right by him, fingers hovering above where the synth flesh had dried. “May I?” you ask. 

He nods, bracing his arm for the soft touch of your hand. Your fingers are light as they ghost over his skin; he nearly groans at the faint contact. 

Kix’s eyes jump to your face; your mouth's twisted up in a grimace as you closely inspect his arm. He smirks a little at your concern.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, as if he’s trying not to spook you. “I'm alright, cyar'ika. I was just stupid. Distracted because I couldn't help but worry about you all day." You look embarrassed at his minor confession, but then the same soft look you had when he caught you comes back, and Kix's heart thumps heavily.

He wants nothing more than to kiss you, to feel you pressed against his bare skin. Would you look at him like you are now? Like he’s not just CT-6116?

Your hand drifts from his arm to the side of his head. The feeling of your fingers dragging along his scalp makes him shut his eyes and suppress a shiver. Some soldier he is; reduced to a pile of mush the second you touch him.

It tickles slightly, as you trace the patterns of his buzzed hair. But he would never ask you to stop; it feels too nice. The pad of your finger sweeps over his tattoo. His eyes feel heavy as they open, and his chest aches at how close you are. 

"Thank you," you whisper again, eyes boring into him as if you're trying to say something else. He really wants to kiss you.

The sound of footsteps echoing towards the med bay wretches him from his own personal paradise.

Kix backs away from you and your wandering hands. He swallows loudly, and your gaze meets the floor as you deal with your own embarrassment. “Anytime, Officer. Please be more careful. The GAR would be worse off without you.” Kix is pretty sure the GAR would be fine without either of you, but he’s hoping you can tell what he wants to say. (He would be worse off without you). 

You nod and keep your eyes on the ground until Hardcase enters, drawing your attention. He looks at the two of you, mouth open in surprise.

“I was wondering if you could check something out…” he trails off, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. You spring into action, taking the opportunity to flee.

“I’ll leave you to it.” You give Hardcase a warm smile, any nerves you had seemingly evaporating. Before you exit, you look over your shoulder, finally looking at Kix again. “Bye.”

He nods at you in dismissal and tries his best to ignore how your departing gaze fluttering across his chest and biceps makes his codpiece feel too tight. The silence lingers in the air, as he looks at the door, wondering if he should up his chest routine when they're back on Coruscant.

“I can come back later, sir.” Hardcase's lip twitches. "Echo and Jesse are debating what entails "medic shit," and I'd like to weigh in."

“Shut up, Hardcase.”

#kix x reader #kix x you #tcw x reader #tcw x you #star wars x reader #star wars x you #ct 6116 x reader #clone trooper kix x reader

[din-miller]

Blue Ink

Pairing: Clone Trooper Fives x AFAB reader

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: You got Fives’ tattoo tattooed on your hip and lets just say you won’t be leaving the bedroom for a few days.

Warnings: 18+, hand job, respectful possessiveness, fluff

A/N: I have no excuse for this. It’s my birthday and I wanted to write smutty smut. The divider is brought to you by @djarrex . The summary is lacking finesse but please read. Rex’s version < cause I’m obsessed with tattoos apparently. And after seven months I finally finished the clone wars and have thoughts

Fives hands are all over you. Pushing and pulling, fabric going this way, your body going that way. Hands hard and fast then slow and gentle. Too much and not enough.

And then it stopped.

He stopped.

Fives’ mouth separated from your skin, your neck suddenly cold without the warmth of his lips and you made a noise of protest. His left hand, which is currently settled on your hip, carefully explored the unexpected bulk of cloth underneath your shirt. He must have been able to tell what it is because his hand fell away from your body like it had been burned.

“You’re hurt.” He said, alarmed, drawing back as his hand hovered over your side.

It took you a second to chase away the lust over taking your mind to figure out what he’s talking about but once you do, you laughed, “No, I’m perfectly fine, my love.”

His hand grabbed the hem of your shirt and slowly started to lift it up, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. When you don’t he lifts the shirt all the way up and his eyes narrowed in on your bandaged hip, “Explain this then.”

“It’s not what it looks like-,”

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like a bacta patch to me,” He dropped the fabric and started pulling you towards the front door, any signs of arousal vanished as concern overtook his expression, “We need to get you to Kix. He’ll patch you up while I find whoever is responsible for this and break every bone in their body.”

“I did it to myself,” You rushed to say, not wanting to hear from Rex that your boyfriend tore apart the mess hall in search of a person that doesn’t exist, “Well technically it was Jesse, but I asked him to.”

“I’m going to kill that osi’kovid.”

“Would you-,” You stepped in front of the door, blocking his escape, “Please just listen to me?”

“Gladly,” He said and you breathed out a sigh of relief, only it’s short lived as Fives tried to push past you, “After I kill my brother.”

“Maker, you’re impossible!” You exclaimed, yanking your shirt off. Once the fabric was discarded somewhere to your right, your fingers found the edge of the bacta patch but before you could rip it off, Fives’ hands brushed yours away. His fingertips ran over the edge of the patch until it found a small gap where it had separated from your skin. Delicately, more so than it really called for, he pulled the patch from your skin.

Then he just stared.

Eyes tracing every ink made line, every detail that is displayed on your skin before those eyes darken, brown orbs becoming black as lust swallowed all colour.

Fives crowed you against the door, your back hitting the wood and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that raced down your spine, nor the involuntary gasp that left your mouth. Fives doesn’t say a word, doesn’t look away from the blue ink and you should probably start panicking.

Then, taking you by complete surprise, Fives is on his knees in front of you, face inches away from your hip as he closely examines the tattoo. His tongue darted out to wet his lips while his thumbs hooked under the band of your pants. With your help he pulled them over your butt and down your legs.

A low whine left your mouth when he groaned appreciatively at the sight of your bare pussy that is meant for his eyes only and your hip marked with his tattoo, “How long have you been walking around with this?”

“Since last night.”

His lips hovered over the tattoo before pressing an open mouth kiss just shy of the ink, “Who else knows?”

“Jesse. He did the tattoo,” You answered, knees quivering in anticipation when his lips trailed lower toward your sex, arousal gathering between your folds, “Kix too. He insisted on being the one to apply the tattoo bacta patch.”

“Good.” He hummed, satisfied with your answer. Whether it’s because Kix was making sure you got proper care, or that him and Jesse are the only people who’ve seen your tattooed skin, you’re not sure. Probably both knowing Fives.

“It looks healed.” He commented and pulled back, looking up at you, eagerly waiting for your response as his tongue pushed past his lips to wet them again. The sight made a wanton need shoot through your body.

“It is.” You confirmed, eyes falling shut as your walls fluttered helplessly around nothing, feeling empty and you really want him to just forget the tattoo for the moment and bend you over the nearest surface until you’re a sobbing mess.

His lips pressed against the middle of the tattoo without warning and your back arched towards him, a breathless sigh passed your lips. His tongue, warm and wet, lapped at the inked skin, “Tell me if this hurts at all.”

“You’re good Fives. You're always so good to me.”

His lips formed a seal over the tattoo in response to your praise and he gave an experimental suck, watching your facial expressions for any sign of pain. There is none. The tattoo is completely healed; matter of fact you left the patch only longer then Kix said too, just to be cautious.

He’s careful not to bruise your skin as he shifts from sucking to nibbling at the tattoo. Your hand shot down to his head, fingers tangled in his brown locks as his teeth bit down with just enough pressure that your toes curled against the floor beneath you, “Fives!”

“Yeah, shit, bed,” He said breathlessly, squeezing the base of his cock over the material of his pants as a few colourful curses fell from his lips, “Lay down for me.”

You did as he said and with deft fingers you undid your chest band, letting your breast bounce free as Fives’ groaned, “You’re killing me here. I’m not sure how long I’ll last.” He admitted with a tinge of embarrassment filling his words.

“That’s okay, my love. We have all night.” You softly reassured him with your back flat against the sheet, your body naked across the beds silk fabric as your arousal soaked the sheets. You beckoned him over with a finger and a sly smirk on your lips.

Fives mirrored your expression and straddled your thighs, trapping your lower half against the bed, clothing removed and his cock heavy in his hand as he stroked himself above you, pre-cum aiding as lubricant as he began thrusting into his own fist, your name falling from his lips.

You made a move to replace his hand with your own, a need to feel his hard velvety heat in your palm, but he’s quick to grab it and he somehow managed to lock both of your wrists in his free hand, placing them above your head, watching as your body stretched tall for him.

Maybe it’s the way you yield underneath his touch or maybe it’s the tattoo, his tattoo, on your skin that sent him crashing over the edge, a wrecked moan filling the room, bouncing off the walls and going straight to your core.

His orgasm is intense and vocal as cum paints your body – more precisely, your tattoo – in hot spurts as he breathed heavily, barely managing to keep himself upright as his cock twitched feebly, drops of cum slowly dripped down his length and onto your hip.

“Oh, Kriff,” Fives swore, running the swollen tip of his cock through his spent, rubbing his cum across the tattoo, another claim of his on you, “Don’t take this the wrong way, cyar’ika, but seeing you inked with my tattoo is fueling me with this possessive side. You are your own person, but fuck, all I can see is how you’re now claimed as mine.”

“So you're not mad?” You asked playfully, freeing a hand to cup his check. He tilted his head down to press a kiss to the inner part of your wrist.

Fives released your other hand and lowered himself slowly down until your chest met his, letting his weight press you further into the mattress and you made a noise of satisfaction, not caring about the drying cum smearing between your pelvic and his. You leaned up to capture his lips in a hungry kiss.

Fives groaned, pulling back from you enough to growl, “Let me show you just how not mad I am.”

“Your wording could use some improvement.”

“I guess I should put my mouth to better use then.” He winked before disappearing between your thighs.

#the clone wars #clone trooper kix #kix x reader #the clone wars fanfic #warning 18+ content #Justice Joy Writes #welcome to my first CW fanfic

[bunnywritesjunk]

Ruusaan | Captain Rex x Reader

Series summary: You missed your tropical planet, but coruscant had more to offer. You are a field medic in the 501st. you work closely with the captain in hopes of not losing your job. But how close is too close.

Chapter summary: You’re exhausted and overwhelmed. You don’t know if you will survive this mission. Your Captain makes sure you do. 

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Warnings: Canon level violence, mean general, broken bones,T for teen (for this chapter)

Word count: 2.9k

Genre: Fluff and angst

A/n: Hello everyone! I’m so glad you’re enjoying my story. I really think you guys will like the next few chapters. I have some things up my sleeve to get things a little more heated for rex. 

Chapter 3

 The remaining 501st battalion started the slow walk down the main road to the capital of Umbara. You kept close to Rex and Fives, finding it hard because of how fatigued you were. The clones had better stamina than most people. You left your ATV back in the brush, hopefully, to be able to retrieve it later.

The soldier you learned was tup spoke. “So, why aren't we sticking to the original plan? Probing the city's defenses first.”

“We can do this. Let's take 'em!” Said Hardcase.

“Leave it to Hardcase to dive in head-first.” Kix responded.

“The General's new plan is reckless.” Fives chimes in.

“You ever think that maybe the General knows what he's doing?” Says another clone you didn't catch the name of yet.

Fives sped up to walk next to rex. “I know you think this is a bad idea.” He said to the captain.

“I...raised my objection to General Krell's plan but he didn't agree. So, this is it.” Rex said.

“Well, what if he's wrong? Then what?” Fives asked.

“This isn't the time for a debate, right now we have to stay alert.”

The group continued walking, and you had your blaster in hand in case of another ambush. Then all of a sudden, a loud boom sounds behind you followed by a scream. You looked back and saw one of the men hit the ground. Everyone was startled. Another explosion went off as another trooper got launched into the air.

“Mines! Nobody move!” The Captain shouted.

You instantly dropped down to one knee. Rex stood up and motioned at someone to check on the soldiers that tripped the mines.

“Oz is down.”

“So is Ringo.” They said.

He turned to Fives. “Can you sweep 'em?”

Fives started scanning the road for more mines.

“There are more over here, looks like the whole roads been booby-trapped.”

“I don't like this.” You said to no one in particular.

“Everyone watch your step.” The Captain said. He turns to you.

“I got you, don't worry.” He tells you quietly. You nod your head still keeping your eyes on the ground.

A large energy blast nearly misses the battalion from behind. The Umbarans surrounded the group quickly and started firing from all directions. You used your blaster and tried to help take out a couple.

“We're completely exposed!”

It didn't take long for the Umbarans to advance. You dodged the after blow of an energy blast and got close behind Rex. You covered his back and took out as many as you could. Although you had combat training this was a little advanced for what your job is supposed to be. Another green energy blast was coming in fast toward you. Rex hooked his arm across your waist and threw the both of you to the side, effectively avoiding the blast. He shielded you from the rubble it created.

“You alright?” He asked you.

“Mhmm.” You responded a little winded and flustered. You shouldn't be thinking like that in the middle of battle, especially not about your Captain. He rolled off of you and back on his feet and engaged some Umbarans in hand-to-hand combat. You got up and continued to shoot.

“They're coming at us from all directions, we don't have any cover!” Fives screamed.

You looked around at the downed soldiers, knowing there was nothing you could do to help them with no cover.

“We need to fall back, if we can draw them out we can see them.” Rex announced.

“If we can see them we can hit them” Hardcase shot back.

“All squads fall back now!” Rex shouted.

You ran back trying to avoid any blaster fire. The troops that the General kept with him joined the group in fighting when Krell let them. As you were about to dive behind a tree root for cover you felt a searing pain on your left shin. You gasped and fell, scooting next to the root. Looking down at your leg you saw a severe burn mark still hot to the touch. You got grazed by blaster fire. You did not feel it much because of the adrenaline, so you chose to ignore it until later. By then the Umbarans started to retreat. You noticed General Krell marching up from behind the brush, right up to Captain Rex.

“Ct-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design? You pulled your forces back from taking the capital city! The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised, because of your failure!”

The General jabbed his finger into Rex's chest roughly to emphasize his words. Then Fives spoke up.

“General Krell, in case you haven't noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won't fail to recognize that.” Fives put a bit of venom behind his words.

The General turned to face the arc trooper. “Arc-5555, stand down” He said slowly as he ignited his lightsaber. You stood up, feeling concerned about the growing tension.

“Sir yes sir” Fives said while walking away. The General then turned his attention to you.

“And you, proving yourself useless. Why didn't you help any of those men? Seems to me like you neglected your job.” You chose not to engage with him and instead gave him a blank stare.

“Were you too busy cowering behind your knight in shining armor, princess?” Your tail whipped side to side in agitation.

“Sir, if I may address your accusations. I followed your orders, even in the face of a plan that was, in my opinion, severely flawed. A plan that cost us men, not clones, men!” Rex took off his helmet as he finished his statement.

Rex continued “As sure as it is my duty to remain loyal to your command, I also have another duty. To protect those men.”

Krell extinguished his lightsaber as he spoke. “You have a spark of tenacity captain, I'll give you that.” He began addressing the whole platoon.

“I know that I do not command like the Jedi you're used to serving, certainly not like General Skywalker. But I have my way. It may be difficult, but these are difficult times. And it's proven effective.”

The General turned back to Rex. “ I suppose your loyalty to your men is to be commended. They seem to admire this. That's important to an effective commander. Alright, Captain Rex, your opinion has been noted. Dismissed.”

The General walked away, not before giving you a scowl. Fives walked up to Rex.

“I think he almost complimented you.” He said to the captain.

You walked up to the arc trooper and Captain with a slight limp in your stride. Rex turns to you.

“You alright? You should get some Bacta on that before we roll out.” The captain had a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, I was going to but then I got yelled at and insulted.” You took off your pack and sat down on the ground, unzipping a small pocket. You found a small packet of topical Bacta gel. Before you could open it Rex grabbed it from you and crouched down to your level.

“Here, let me.” He took off his gloves and tore the packet open. He squeezed it along the wound while gently spreading it to cover the whole area.

“Rex, you really don't have to help, I got it.” He didn't answer you or look up at you, he just continued to apply the Bacta. By now Fives was distracted by something else.

“I'm sorry.” He said quietly. You looked at him puzzled.

“For what?” He opened his mouth to respond.

“Everyone take cover!!!” A trooper yelled as an energy blast hurled toward the platoon. You ducked back behind the root for cover as Rex put on his helmet and started firing. Umbaran fighters flew in and started firing every which way. You and Rex ran to better cover while he barked out orders to his men. You saw an injured trooper while you ran and changed course. You picked up his ankles and drug him to cover as he moaned in pain. Kix helped you lean him against the tree and took his helmet off.

“It's ok buddy, this will ease the pain” Kix reassured the trooper. As you were assisting Kix with the injured you overheard the order to take the western supply base. You and the battalion prepared to roll out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and the platoon walked until the base was in sight. You were so exhausted at this point and gave up on the idea of getting your ATV back. You barely listened to the General speak about the plan but guessed it would be another full frontal attack. You leaned against one of the tentacle-like trees to rest a bit. After they finished their discussion Rex walked up to you.

“Alright, I want you to stay in my sights. I saw you and Kix working together so make sure you stay undercover.” He said sternly to you.

“Yes sir.” You responded, you still wanted to ask him why he apologized earlier but figured it would probably be best to ask in a less stressful situation.

The Battalion started marching down the steep hill toward the narrow gorge that led to the base. You lost your footing a bit halfway down and slid down on your butt the rest of the way. Fives chuckled at you so you gave him a smile. Once everyone got down the hill Rex started giving out orders.

“Alright, listen up. We'll assemble the squads in two divisions. We'll move straight up this gorge towards the airbase at the far side.” The other soldiers rebutted these orders and expressed their displeasure.

“The casualties are gonna be high.”

“Is Krell trying to get us killed?!”

“You know I wasn't sure Krell was crazy before, but now I'm positive!”

Fives chimed in. “We had to retreat from the capital because the General pushed a flawed strategy. Now, this?!”

Some others joined in saying their thoughts. Captain Rex pulled Fives aside for a private conversation. After they were done, you moved out with Rex's squadron. Fives' platoon entered the gorge first and after a few minutes, Rex followed. Your blaster was at the ready just in case. Suddenly, the ground started rumbling so aggressively your feet shifted.

All of you ran to where the noise was coming from. Three massive caterpillar-like tanks were wreaking havoc on Fives squad, shooting blaster bolts in every direction. It managed to take out quite a few men. They came down on its spindly legs and maneuvered through the squad while firing. You and Kix immediately got to work. Following Rex onto the battlefield, you heard Fives call for rocket launchers.

There was a downed soldier as soon as the squad got into the gorge. You hooked your arms under his and drug him back to cover while Kix lifted his legs to help you. There was a large explosion that illuminated green. One of the tanks blew up via a rocket launcher. You and Kix continued to recover soldiers, most of which had broken bones and blaster wounds. It was hard to do anything for them except give them painkillers and reset their bones. You hear Rex delegating orders to get rid of these tanks. He glanced back to see you and Kix tending to your patients before proceeding with his squad.

“Be prepared for a large explosion they're rigging a trap.” Kix said to you. You nodded. Right on cue, a bright explosion blew the remaining two tanks up until they were barely sparking with life.

“Alright, get ready to roll out.” Rex said.

You looked at the three injured soldiers you had leaning against the tree and reassured them that you'd come back for them. The platoon started walking again, much to your chagrin. The battalion got about ten minutes of headway before Rex stopped.

“We've got a problem.” A green energy blast hurdled towards the group barely missing the captain. Two tanks that were reminiscent of spiders started to make their way toward the platoons. You retreated back for cover behind a tree.

“What is with these people and bug tanks?!” You shouted to no one in particular.

You glanced out from your cover to see if any injured men needed help. The tank vaporized most troopers, and it was clear there would be very few survivors. Kix called you over from a more secure spot in the brush. You rushed over and saw he had three wounded soldiers. You instantly started assisting Kix with them. Rex, Fives, and Hardcase had a short but heated discussion about whether they should continue to go through with this plan.

“You got any better ideas?” Rex asks fives. Fives shook his head no.

“Then this is it.” They moved cautiously out behind cover.

The troopers rolled out leaving you and Kix to tend to the wounded. Minute after minute the injured soldiers seemed to pile up. The noise of battle getting overwhelming in your ears. As you worked on patching up blaster shots and making splints. You tried to shut out the outside stimuli. It worked until you were pulled up to stand by your upper arm. You looked up and saw your captain. Kix was a few feet away dragging a trooper towards you.

“We've got to get these guys outta here.” He told Rex while turning back for more of the men. The Captain let go of your arm to stop him.

“Forget it. We have to leave them.” Rex said.

“We can't just leave them, sir!”

“We have no choice, that's an order.” Rex turned to walk away.

“You sound like General Krell.” Kix said.

Rex sighed while turning back to face him.

“Look Kix, it's more important to save yourself right now. If we survive, we can patch up the wounded later.”

You solemnly walked away to stand near them, leaving your patients. Rex surveyed the route to the base with his binoculars.

“Hey, fives remember what I said about finding another way to destroy those tanks?”

“What were you thinking?” Fives inquired.

“Well, I have a mission for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hardcase and Fives took off on their stealth mission to the airbase. Hopefully to find something that can destroy the tanks. You stuck close to Rex while they kept firing blaster shots and rockets that were useless against the tanks. You felt a little embarrassed following him around like a lost puppy but if you didn't move fast enough he'd pull you with him. The tanks were closing in on the rest of the platoon quickly. You and Rex found yourselves dodging the enormous feet of the tank while the man inside tried to crush you. Surely you were gonna die. Then, the tank started shooting upwards. Two Umbaran fighters started shooting at the tanks.

You and Rex ran for cover as the tanks exploded. You leaned against a tree and slid down to sit. The troopers cheered to Hardcase and Fives. You smiled to yourself just happy to be alive. Rex kneeled in front of you.

“Hey, you ok?” He asked you. You nodded.

“I'm just so surprised we survived.”

“Yeah well, we're good for now.” He held his hand out to help you up.

Krell managed to send in more troops on a final assault to capture the airbase. You wondered why he didn't send them before to help with the tanks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inside the Air Base hangar, you stoop away from your group a few feet. You commed Na'wi.

“Oh, my stars you're ok!”

“Yeah, barely.”

“You didn't comm me in over twenty-four hours, what happened?”

You glanced over at Krell approaching the squad. “I'll fill you in when I can speak more freely. I'll comm you later”

General Krell marched up to the Captain and his men.

“Captain, report. What is our situation?” He asked Rex.

“General, we have taken the base and cut off enemy supply lines to the Capital.”

“Luck has smiled on you today, Captain. Consider yourself fortunate.” Krell said to Rex.

Rex took a step towards the General. “It wasn't all luck sir. A lot of men died to take this base.” Rex shot back at him.

“The price for such a victory. Perhaps someday you'll realize this.” Rex tensed at this statement trying to calm his anger.

Krell shifted his attention to you. “Did you manage to save anyone, medic?” You nodded yes, determined not to engage with this crazy man.

“Dismissed.” Krell walked away.

Fives walked up to the Captain. “He's the one who will never realize.”

You looked around the hangar for any sort of motor vehicle that looked easy enough to drive.

“Hey, don't worry about retrieving the wounded. I got it” Kix said to you.

“You sure? I mean it is my job...that I've kinda failed at for this mission.” You looked down dejected.

“Yeah, get some rest. Besides, normally we don't have this many casualties, it's not you.” Kix reassured you.

Fives turned around. “You've proven yourself to be quite reliable, you're part of the team now.” He gave you a warm smile.

“Ruusaan.” Rex said quietly. You gave him a confused look.

“Hm?”

“Ruusaan, means reliable in Mando'a”

“Ooh, it's pretty, were you guys trying to give me a nickname this whole time?” You asked the Captain.

Fives rested his arm on your shoulder. “Nope, not until you earned it. And you definitely did today Ruusaan.”

“Well, I'm glad. Thank you guys. I like my nickname.” 

#rex x reader #rex x you #captain rex x y/n #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex fanfiction #captain rex angst #captain rex fluff #clone captain rex #the clone wars #clone wars 501st #clone wars fanfiction #clone trooper x reader #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #no y/n #ct 7567

[arctrooper69]

What Hurts the Most

A piece I wrote as a gift to @staycalmandhugaclone featuring her OC Doc and my Jedi!OC Danika. Set sometime after the season 2 finale.

❤️ Thank you for giving me permission to post this ❤️

Doc x Danika

WARNINGS: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING. Viewer discretion advised. This is a bit darker than my usual fics. Suicidal ideation, self harm, survivors guilt, blood, medical care. Major angst but there's a good amount of comfort.

--------------------------------------------------

I couldn’t help myself.

The knife was in my hand, fingers curled tightly around the handle. It was almost surreal, but some part of me knew what I was doing. Some secret, sick, violent part of my mind urged me on, begging me to end things right here and now.

I don’t know why I did it. It just kind of happened. The knife seemed to slip as if it had taken on a life on its own and I was simply a passerby watching as the edge slid across my skin, drawing such a beautiful red.

It would make the pain go away. Of that I had fully convinced myself. The deeper the blade sunk, the more I found myself sinking along with it. Those heady crimson rivets fell like waterfalls and I wanted nothing more than to let them wash me away.

Let the Force take me like it took so many others before me.

It was only fair. Why did I have to be the one left behind again and again? I was nothing.

I was angry.

What did I do to deserve all of this? Why was I destined to fail each and every time I tried so hard to reach for success? What was the point of being a Jedi when there was no one left to save?

I had failed them. I had failed all of them. Master Plo. Lia. Echo. Hardcase. Fives. Kix. Comet. Sinker. Commander Wolffe. I couldn’t name them all and that broke me too. What good am I if I can't even remember the names of all the lives I could’ve saved?

All the Jedi? I remembered some.

Asher. Kylah. Willa. Torik. The younglings I pulled from the burning Temple. They were all gone now too - a testament to my weakness - only proving that I didn’t have what it took.

And Lia.

My precious Lia. Sacrificed herself in battle to save her men and I wasn’t there to save her. I felt her life flicker out like a candle and a part of me was gone as well. Maybe Master Plo knew, though he never said anything. I found myself wishing that he did - that maybe it would’ve been enough for the Council to throw me out - to spare me of all the pain to come.

Then Kix.

I’m so sorry, Kix.

Gone. Dragged away by Separatist droids as I lay bleeding in the street, unable to do anything but scream for them to stop - as if they’d listen to me. Powerless. Unable to help.

More like unwilling.

I should’ve forced myself to move. I should have willed my body back together. The Force could’ve done such miraculous things. But not through me.

The cybernetics in my spine ached - a gift from Master Krell. I tallied Umbara as the highest price for my failures. Allowing my anger to save and defend the honor of lives that would ultimately be lost anyway. Brother against brother orchestrated by Krell’s own hand.

Another unforgivable act.

I should’ve been able to face him. I should’ve been able to subdue him - to protect my men - not be flung aside like some helpless child. Maybe Kix would’ve been able to save more of his brothers if he hadn’t had to come and save me.

The thoughts came faster and more chaotic as they came, swirling and spiraling ever downwards like the blood that fell from my wounds.

---

I could hear footsteps now, thundering up the stone pathway. Quick and deliberate.

The sky was so pretty tonight, sun sinking low over Pabu’s golden beaches. The way it fell reminded me of others I had failed to save in one way or another.

Crosshair. Tech. Omega.

“Doc, get up here! Hunter!” Wrecker’s voice was loud. I didn’t mind though. The way his footsteps made the sandy ground tremble could have rocked me to sleep. It would’ve been peaceful. Finally success in something I could control.

It was taken from me then, knocked violently from my hands. Some stranger’s voice cried out as Wrecker’s vice-like grip locked around my arm and wrist, desperately trying to keep that crimson from flowing smoothly into the dirt. It wasn’t fair. That strange voice crying out for him to stop couldn’t have been mine. The pleas for him to let me have some semblance of control couldn’t have come from my lips because that would mean I had failed once again.

“Dani, why?”

I didn’t know his voice could sound so broken.

The agony of my reality didn’t hit me until Doc’s medkit hit the ground with a thud ringing though my head like her voice barking out orders.

I’m sorry, Doc. I just couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt too much. Please understand.

“Cyar’ika, why?” The crack in her voice hurt worse than the screaming icy sharpness that coursed nearly unbearably up my arm as she did what she was meant to do.

I found it endearing how easily she’d picked up the Mando’a from her boys.

Her words may have been gentle but her hands were not. I hadn’t realized how deep that blade had gone until her fingers pinched together the pulsing artery beneath my skin, forcing such a gutteral cry from my chest at the white hot sharpness she inflicted so ruthlessly.

I tried to run - to jerk away and hide from the agony of Hunter’s willing hands which twisted and wound the tourniquet obediently under Doc’s command, but I found that Wrecker’s arms, though gentle, held me fast.

Her voice was gentle with an edge of disappointment now - all of it laced with a quiet heartbreak. I couldn’t help the tears that streamed down my cheeks, nor the whimper of pain that tumbled over lips that had begun to go numb.

“I’ve got you, Dani. Look at me.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I couldn’t bring myself to see how my actions had cut her just as deeply as the knife I’d used on myself.

“I need you to look at me.” Her fingers glided beneath my chin, caressing the same skin that she had kissed only hours before.

I wondered if she noticed how I watched her lips tremble as she brought my face up to look at hers. I wonder if the same shame that gripped me, now held her in its claws as well. I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault. I wanted to tell her that I loved her and never meant to hurt her like this.

“I’m sorry...” The words that leaked breathlessly over my lips were all that came out. I didn’t know what else to say.

The determined look she’d set over eyes shielded the tears I knew lay beneath. They were the same tears she had shed so long ago when she told me about her past. It seemed so long ago now, almost in a different life. I’d fallen in love with her then, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever told her that.

Had I failed her too?

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

She made no sound to answer me.

I couldn’t stop the hissing moan as she folded my arm over my own chest and pulled me into her arms.

“I know, cyar’ika. I’m sorry.”

My head felt so heavy. With so much weighing me down, I couldn’t fight how my head rested against her shoulder.

“Doc… let me help. I got her.” Hunter’s voice sounded strained, like I’d added another thousand pounds onto his already heavy shoulders. I couldn’t help the tears that came again, burning hot with shame that choked me like a fist around my throat.

I wondered if she knew how I felt that spike of protective instinct shooting through her soul as she stood, cradling me against her chest, pulling me closer and ever so slightly away from the concern of the others. I wondered if she was aware of the regret that weighed so heavily on my chest. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone.

Her feet moved quickly with practiced purpose down the stone steps and across the landing platform.

“How can we help, Doc?” Wrecker’s voice echoed through my ears and her reply sounded almost comical as it warped and blended in and out with everything else. All I wanted to do was stay here in her arms. She was warm and safe. Everything felt different with her.

I could’ve floated into a dream where everything was alright again. A dream in which the weight of our actions had no effect on the galaxy around us. It was just simply us. Doc and Danika. What a beautiful world that would be, and I wondered briefly if she ever felt the same.

The sudden cold hand of reality cruelly pulled me back once again beneath fluttering eyelids and that thin cot of the medbay I was suddenly placed upon.

“No, no, no. Danika, don’t you dare!” Her voice was sharp. Panicked fingers pulling desperately at the lids of my eyes, forcing me into a sudden, uncomfortable wakefulness. I couldn’t help the twinge of despair in realizing she’d once again pulled me back to her.

I would only fail her again, and even that thought flooded me with a tangible guilt I could feel in my mouth.

“Don’t do that again!” She nearly shouted in an angry relief. “I won’t lose you too!” Her voice quieted, “I can’t…”

I could only turn my head to regard her under lidded eyes that were aready threatening to close again. I found myself unable to keep from shivering as I watched her gather what she needed in frantic movements.

I nearly smiled. It took a certain kind of courage to efficiently do what needed to be done even when the life of someone you cared about was on the line.

“Here.” She layed a blanket over me. Her eyes were kind but oh, so tired. It was the kind of tired where even a thousand nights of sleep would not ever been enough.

Her hand felt cold as she brushed the hair from my neck with nimble fingers. She held the autoinjector in the other.

“Just a pinch,” she warned, smiling in a sad, but comforting expression as I met her eyes.

I barely noticed the slight burn of the sedative she’d given me as I felt it pull me into the grasp of unconciousness. A terror suddenly gripped me tighter than anything I’d ever felt before and I felt myself fight how that sedative pulled me down. I couldn’t let myself be taken away like this - not when she meant so much to me. I knew then, whatever it took, I had to fight to stay with her. She was my rock. I was hers. She would be my reason to keep living.

---

Gentle fingers weaving through my hair, woke me slowly.

The door to the medbay hissed open. “How is she, Doc?” Hunter’s voice held that same tired concern as it had before.

The fingers in my hair paused their movements. “I think she’s starting to wake up.”

“Do you think we should - “

“Yeah,” her curt reply cut him off. “She’ll stay here for awhile. Just so I can keep an eye on her.”

“Good. I’ll give you some privacy then.” The door hissed shut and she sank into the chair with a sigh.

“Hey…” I whispered. She stiffened, pulling her hand from my hair. She stood up suddenly, moving her hands as though she didn’t quite know what to say.

“Hey!?” She repeated incredulously. The sudden sharpness of her tone startled her as much as it did me. “That’s all you have to say to me!? Hey!?” The anger she’d tried so hard to convey, cracked at the last few words. She took a breath as if to calm herself. My chest felt heavy. I knew I’d hurt her, but I hadn’t realized just how much.

“I…” I began.

“Oh, no.” she interrupted me, a fire ablaze in her eyes. “You don’t get to talk just yet!”

I fell silent.

“H-how dare you do something like that! How dare you…” her voice cracked as she collapsed back into the chair beside me, placing her forehead on mine, pressing so hard I could taste the salt of her tears on my lips as they fell. Her hands gripped my face as though she was afraid if she let go, I’d slip away once again.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” The anger in her voice was gone now, replaced only by grief and sorrow.

“Am… am I allowed to speak again?” I asked timidly, hoping a small grin and some infantesimal amount of good humor would help lift that awful weight from her shoulders.

She chuckled with a broken sniff as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, “Yeah… I guess you can. Maker knows, I can’t stop you once you get started.”

It was my turn to chuckle.

“I… I’m so sorry,” My own words breaking over emotion I couldn’t hold back any longer. She wiped the tears with her thumbs as they flowed.

“I… Sometimes it’s just so easy to get all caught up in my own head,” I sobbed.

She moved, sitting on the cot beside me, lifting me so that my head rest against her chest. The beat of her heart was soothing. I could sit there forever and that sound would be all I needed to sustain my living.

“I know, she said, placing her lips on the top of my head. “That’s what I’m here for though, right?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, closing my eyes, leaning into her embrace as she wrapped herself around me.

“Promise?” She asked.

“I promise.”

--------------------------------------------------

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rouge @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @temmiegailg @skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

#suicidal ideation #tw self harm #tw si #star wars #star wars the clone wars #the bad batch #clone wars #swtcw #sw tcw #sw tbb #doc's misadventures #oc x oc #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #the bad batch oc #tbb oc #tbb oc x tbb oc #tbb omega #oc: danika gerrick #jedi oc #doc oc #star wars fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #order 66

[supredyne]

kangmas diavolo

(Javanese traditional clothing)

#obey me diavolo #obey me #obey me fanart #obey me shall we date #kix tries to draw

[knightprincess]

Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader) Part 15

Words: Just over 1k Warning: Spoilers for Bad Batch Season 1, a bit of suspense. Pairing: Echo/Medic Reader Pronouns: She/Her A/N: Sorry for the long wait, got a little sidetracked with other projects outside of writing (digital art & cross stitching)

The war was coming to a close, no one could deny it. The senators who fought in the senate knew the end was drawing nearer, although none could say for sure what if it was they could sense coming to an end. All they could say for sure was the unexplainable feeling of dread and impending doom, lingering in the air. The Jedi too had felt it, along with the harsh judgment cast upon them by the very people they had fought to protect. The judgment that now branded them as much of enemies as the Separatists they fought against. The judgment that called them bloodthirsty warmongers. 

In the months since Echo had been rescued by the daring Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker, his loyal Captain Rex, and the Enhanced Commando unit collectively known as The Bad Batch. A fair bit had changed. Echo had made the decision to join the Bad Batch, going on missions and adventures with them across the galaxy, slowly accepting the truth he'd tried so hard to deny, he wasn't the same Arc Trooper he once was, although still an asset, he was more machine than clone now. 

But his decision to join the Bad Batch had come at a price. He had to leave (Y/N) behind. She was assigned to the 501st and would remain with them until she was either reassigned or the war ended. With Kix going MIA, Snap was the only medic the boys in blue had, the only one they trusted enough to attend to their wounds and open up to about the brutality of the war. She was a trusted and loyal friend to every clone she met, in return, they treated her as if she was one of their own, as Cody put it, she had an army of protective brothers. 

At first, Echo had been reluctant to leave (Y/N) behind, during his quiet moments aboard the Marauder, her thoughts would drift to her and the concern she would feel abandoned by him grew in power. He'd forget about the conversations he had with her while recovering from his traumatic experience as a prisoner of war, he'd forgotten the advice Snap had given him while offering encouragement. Telling him to find his place and himself, encouraging him to put himself first instead of everyone else. 

"Still thinking about her?" asked Hunter, noticing Echo had been staring off into hyperspace for quite some time now. The blue and white swirls reflected in his pale eyes. The assignment to Kaller was minor compared to the majority of troopers reassigned to Coruscant, General Grevious' attack there seemingly shook everyone, even more so when the droid commander had managed to gain access to one of the more secure buildings on the planet and kidnap the Chancellor. 

"She has that effect" replied Echo, suspecting Snap would have been reassigned to Coruscant along with the rest of the 501st. He had little doubt she would have been sent back to the military base, prepared to do her duty as a well-trained and tested medic. "I feel guilty for leaving her behind again. The last time I promised her I would be back, I ended up a prisoner and weapon for years" admitted the Arc Trooper, although he refused to word his other concerns, that it would be her taken from him if something was to go arie this time. After all in recent weeks, the civvi medics and other personnel had been targets of attacks, medics more than others. 

"(Y/N) is a fighter, I do not envy those who believe it wise to target her" voiced Tech, not lifting his eyes from the datapad he tapped away at. "My research suggests her last known location was on Coruscant, give me a few more minutes and I should have an exact location" he added, only receiving a hum from Crosshair, he and Hunter were the only ones to really notice Tech like many had become fond of Snap, often keeping an eye on her whereabouts over the time since building a friendship.  

"The 104th, 212th, and 501st's are with her. What could go wrong?" questioned Wrecker, all knew Octavius was a constant thorn but had thrust far been easily deterred, as had Isolde, who spent the majority of her time trying to regain Octavius' attention, especially when she realized he had put it back on to her younger sister. If Isolde wasn't trying to get Octavius back, then she was making a poor attempt at her job, which normally ensured the Jedi were updated on any changes, should anything have changed during the short and normally uneventful trip from the temple to the military base. More often than not it appeared Isolde was sabotaging the Jedi she was supposed to keep informed, a few times her stupidity had been mistaken for terrorist acts. 

The moment the elite unit landed on Kaller, the focus became the mission at hand. Echo forced the thoughts of (Y/N) to the back of his mind, promising himself he would return to them later. For now, he had to keep his mind on the here and now and ensure Jedi Master Depa Billada and her Padawan Caleb Dume had the support they needed, even if they didn't have the backup requested. 

The job was simple enough, provide aid to allow the occupation to continue with as little as possible. If need be settle the hostile residents of the planet, who had plainly stated they didn't see a difference between the Separatist Occupation and that of the Republic, both had caused destruction and brought war with them. At the top of a snowy peak, the five soldiers were met by Caleb Dume, who seemed surprised by there only being five, it being clear he and likely his master had expected an attack battalion rather than the enhanced squad. 

The battle had been easy enough, a standard mission. Hunter and Crosshair had assessed the enemy forces, with the sergeant deciding on the plan to use. By the time the skirmish was over, Wrecker had another battle droid over his shoulders and Crosshair was nudging some scattered across the battlefield if only to ensure they were deactivated. Hunter had gone over to General and those hiding with her, Tech and Echo following behind, with the former still trying to access seemingly locked files. 

Everything had been as it should be, a regular assignment with an easy solution to it. Everything was normal until it wasn't. When one order came through and continued to repeat. 

Execute Order 66. 

Masterlist

#forgive me (echo x medic reader) #arc trooper echo #tbb tech #sargent hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #fem! medic reader #reader interactive #reader insert #x reader fanfic #star wars fanfction #star wars x reader #part 15

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Garden - SFW Version

Summary: Six years after the sudden death of your father, you return to his beloved home to restore it to its former glory. A series of strange events leads you to find a friend in a strange horse that appears on your property. Little do you know there’s more to this horse than meets the eye. 

Pairing: Kix x reader

Warnings: Monster AU, kelpie!Kix, minor character death at the start, grief, magic, shapeshifting, loosely based on folklore, cultural differences, kissing, confession of feelings. 

A/N: Here's the SFW version. The NSFW version will be linked below if you prefer that version. It's slightly shorter due to the omission of the smut, but it's bascially the same story.

MASTERLIST | NSFW VERSION

It’s a day you’d rather forget. 

Your father had spent hours and hours of his time making the house perfect, making the yard perfect. He wanted everything to be perfect, but he’d never get to see it. 

It happened suddenly. You’d been the one to find him, searching for him in the backyard, in the labyrinth of paths and bushes and trees. You’d found him lying there in the grass  almost like he was taking a nap, but you knew him better than that. The panic that had risen in your throat was like nothing you’d ever felt, your scream heard clear in the house as you’d desperately tried CPR, but it was too late. 

To say it was a shock was an understatement. 

Now you’re sitting in the pristine grass he had mowed every other day without fail. His pride and joy was being tarnished by tents and plastic chairs. You tried to listen as some “mate” he’d had in college spoke about their time together, telling stories you’d never heard, referencing a man who was nothing more than a pile of ashes sitting on a table in front of the begonias he’d lovingly planted for your mother. She was crying into your grandmother’s shoulder, sobs wracking her body. 

But you don’t cry. 

Instead something is rising in you, something twisting, threatening to choke you. There were too many people, most of them you didn’t know, sitting in his lawn and tarnishing it with their heels and their shoes. He would have hated it, the holes in his golf course grade grass, the shoe prints that would no doubt be left imprinted in the grass thanks to the rain the night before. Footprints in the dirt of his precious gardens, trampling his flowers, squishing the only thing that mattered to him in this world beside you and your mother. 

You can’t stand it anymore. 

You don’t care that people stare as you get up from your seat, walking out of the sweltering tent. The sun is high, heating the ground beneath your feet as you take off running, losing your shoes in the process. You don’t care, feet squelching in the wet grass, then the underbrush as you force your way into the trees along the property line. You run through the trees, ignoring the branches grabbing at you, the leaves snagging in your hair, the roots tempting to trip you, tangle your feet and send you to the ground. Tears have blurred your vision now, running blindly, trying to get away from the pain, the...wrongness behind you. 

Finally a root jumps up and grabs you, tangling around your ankles, sending you to the ground. The mud is wet as you hit it, splattering on your black clothes but you don’t care. You don’t even bother to pull yourself up, laying in the mud as you sob. You miss your father, you miss his quirks, the things you never appreciated before. The things you never paid attention to that you should have. The things you’d never get to do again, the things you’d never get to hear or see again. All the sorrow wells at once, the numbness of the past few days wearing off. 

A splash near you draws you from your grieving, your head snapping to the side, finding a small lake. You had no idea it was there. Then again, you hadn’t spent much time in the forest by your house. Your father had always warned you of faeries but you’d never believed him. Faeries were children’s stories. 

But the horse head staring at you from the lake has you questioning that. 

It’s black as night, reeds tangled in its black hair. It's submerged up to its milky white eyes, no bubbles appearing where its nose is in the water. You have to be hallucinating. The past few days had gotten to you finally and you were seeing things. That was it. Maybe you’d hit your head when you were falling and this was all just a dream. 

You stay still as the horse begins to move closer, its head rising up out of the water now. A low buzzing begins in your ears, rising in pitch until it almost sounds like...music. You’re entranced, staring at the horse as it stands still. Something draws you towards it, something tells you to touch it, not to fear the water but to jump in and climb on its back. 

The cold lake water startles you from your trance. You hadn’t even noticed you had moved,  kneeling at the edge of the water, wet mud threatening to suction you into place. It’s soaking your clothes but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Your name being shouted through the trees drags you from your thoughts. You lower your hand, realizing it had been reaching out towards the horse. It’s gone, taking all trace of it having been there, not even a ripple on the surface of the water left. Maybe it had been a hallucination all along. 

Arms are wrapping around you, pulling you from the edge of the water. 

“Stay away from there!” A woman is saying, chastising you for getting close to the lake. Your head is swimming, the buzzing still in your ears. “Those waters are dangerous.” 

Something is wrapped around your shoulders, and you find you're shivering despite the warm sun above you. You recognize who it came from, the overwhelming scent of aftershave reaching your nose. 

You're led back to the house and taken inside. Your mother is there instantly, worrying over you. You numbly allow yourself to be led to the couch, Jeffrey sitting you down on it. He lived two doors down with his mother, and more than once had come calling on you with any excuse he could use to do so. You thought he was sweet, but that was it. 

Someone is speaking, someone else is handing you a glass of water. But everything seems distant to you. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were in a coma and this was all some sick fantasy brought on by delirium. 

You know that’s not the case. The brain wasn’t capable of thinking all these people up, all the things that you’d seen, all the people you’d met over the past few days were real. 

Your dad being dead was real. 

You sip the water, letting people fuss around you. Jeffrey is sitting next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders supportively. You’re still wet, the cold water grounding you, but it was also a reminder of what you’d seen. The horse in the water. How you had been so drawn to it, wanting to touch it, willing to walk into the lake to get to it. 

The thought scares you more than anything that had happened the past few days ever could. 

***

Six years. 

Your mother had held onto the house for six years. 

She moved you both to town, unable to stare at the work your father had put in. The constant reminders of him were too much for her to handle and so she’d run from it. You had returned once you had your own car. You had constantly driven past it, pulled into the driveway to stare at it. It looked sad, like something out of a fairytale. The outside needed repainted, the yard had overgrown, starting to take back the house as well. The garden your father had put so much work into and the bushes were all dead. It was like the forest was slowly creeping in, retaking the land as its own. 

Six years and you had finally graduated from high school, gone to college and gotten a useless degree. Six years to work up the courage to ask your mother for the keys, wanting some place to stay that wasn’t the cramped apartment rife with your mother and her sorrows. 

Finally it was yours. 

You start with the house, cleaning it up inside. It was dusty and damp after the six years it had been closed up. You air it out, sweeping and dusting every inch, making it shine, just like it had six years ago. The yard, however, was something else. Its glory was gone, shriveled up and overgrown from six years of neglect. You knew you could never return it to its full glory, but at least you could try. Spring is coming, the days slowly lengthening and getting warmer. You want to get it cleaned up so you can begin planting soon. 

A few days go by without incident. You finish fixing up the interior of the house and begin on the exterior. Ivy has made itself at home on one side of the house, and it desperately needs repainting. The roof needs to be cleaned as well, moss growing on the side facing the forest. It truly feels like the forest had slowly been reaching out, trying to reclaim the land. 

For a moment you feel as if you should let it, as you watch the ivy peel back from the side of the house. What was the point of cleaning up the house? Your father is gone. He won’t ever see it again. 

You push the thought away, finishing your work for the day. 

It’s after dark when it happens for the first time. You had been making dinner after closing up the house when a low buzzing had started to sound in your ears. You look around, wondering if perhaps it’s one of the lights. You move around the room, standing next to each one, but the buzzing never changes in tone or volume. 

You flick the lights off, but the buzzing doesn't cease. The moon is out, illuminating the lawn as you stare out the window. Your lips part in a gasp as you catch a shadowy form standing in the long grass. You move closer to the window, blinking in shock. 

It looks like...a horse. 

Its eyes glint in the darkness, reflecting the light of the moon. A feeling of uneasiness washes over you, the buzzing in your ears feeding the fear starting to bud in the back of your mind. Your hand shakes as you reach for the curtain, quickly drawing it closed. The room is bathed in darkness and you fumble for the lightswitch, the buzzing stopping as soon as the light flicks on. 

You breathe in the sudden silence, your heart thudding in your chest. There was a horse in your yard. You turn back to the kitchen, trying to calm the fear gnawing at you. Maybe one of the neighbors had gotten a horse and it somehow escaped into your yard. There was certainly plenty for a horse to eat in the overgrown yard. 

Perhaps you should make a visit to the neighbors again. It has been years since you’ve seen them. You can let them know one of their horses is escaping at night. 

***

None of your neighbors have horses. 

You try to process the thought as you work on painting the exterior of the house. You had visited them the day before, making them known of your return to your childhood home. You had asked briefly about the horse, but you’d gotten nothing but shrugs and one strange look from Jeffrey’s mother. 

Perhaps it had escaped from somewhere outside of the neighborhood then. There were many farms all across the countryside. The horse could have wandered in from anywhere. Hell, the horse could have been a hallucination for all you know. A trick of the shadows. 

For all you know there was no horse at all. 

The thought sends a shiver down your spine, something in the back of your mind prickling. You get the sudden feeling you’re being watched. You turn on the ladder, glancing at the forest behind you. You scan the treeline, but there’s nothing in the thick underbrush. 

Your father had always warned you about going into the forest as a child. Forests are strange places, and while there were no large predators you had to worry about, there were...other things. The trees were tricky and liked to play games, making you get lost on purpose.

And the faeries. 

You had believed him, at least as a child. Then you brushed him off as you grew older. Faeries were nothing but stories and legends. 

Still, you never ventured into the forest. Something about it has always given you goosebumps, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight. 

You turn away from the trees, resuming your painting. You want to get it done and dry before the weather turns wet with the coming spring. You have a lot to do before then. 

The buzzing returns that night. 

You’re in bed this time, tucked away upstairs in your old room. It hadn’t felt right, sleeping in what was your parents' old room. Some of your dads stuff is still in there, and you don’t feel brave enough to start looking through it. Not yet. 

You had just been drifting off to sleep when the buzzing started, pulling you from the precious slumber. Your heart jumps in your chest, fear buzzing through you almost as loud as the buzzing in your ears. Your gaze turns towards the window overlooking the front yard. What would you see if you got up and looked? Will the shadowy horse figure be there again? 

Your breathing picks up as you hear the familiar creak of the porch steps. The front door is locked, you had made sure of it twice before you retired to bed, but that doesn’t stop the fear screaming in the back of your mind. 

Your legs are shaking as you rise from the bed, slowly tiptoeing to the window. You glance down at the yard, but you can’t see anything. The porch continues to creak, slow, heavy footsteps making their way around the side of the house.

You open your door, glancing down the hallway towards the stairs. You let out a breath, cursing the fact everything you could use as a weapon is downstairs in the kitchen. You tiptoe along the hallway, making your way slowly down the stairs. 

You stare at the kitchen window as you make your way to the bottom of the steps, the curtains thin enough you can make out something moving on the porch in the moonlight. You sink down, making yourself as small as possible as you hold your breath. 

There’s a horse on your porch. 

It’s unmistakable, its shadow illuminated through the kitchen window. You’re afraid, breaths ragged and shaky as you stare at the figure through the window. You wonder if it can see you even in the darkness. Its head turns towards the window, ears flickering. You hold your breath, the buzzing in your ears getting louder. 

It almost sounds like...music. 

A deep, sad song begins to come through the buzzing like a radio picking up a distant signal. Tears fill your eyes as something tugs deeply in your chest. The grief from the last six years comes back to the surface, the house suddenly feeling so large and empty. You want to escape, you want to run out the door. You can’t stand it, being alone. The house was supposed to be full of light and laughter and happy memories. It’s so cold and empty now. 

The creak of a board on the porch snaps you from your thoughts, your body halfway to the front door. You hadn’t even realized you had gotten up. You stumble back, racing for the stairs and back up to your room. You push your desk in front of the door before diving under the covers, putting a pillow over your head to try and block out the buzzing music. 

***

You let out a shriek as you leave the house two days later. 

Standing in your yard is a black horse. 

It’s just standing there, staring right at you, unmoving. Your hand is on the doorknob, ready to rush back inside. There’s no buzzing this time, no song. It’s morning, the sun coming over the hills. The world is damp from how cold it was last night. There’s no hoofprints in the tall grass, no sign of the horse trampling through it. You wonder how long it’s been there. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, feeling stupid as the words leave your mouth. You’re talking to a horse. 

Its ears flick at your words and it continues to stare at you for a moment before it lowers its head, starting to graze on the tall grass. You relax just slightly, your hand slipping off the doorknob. Perhaps it’s just a lost horse, come to graze on your jungle. The other neighbors all keep their lawns well kept, so you can rationalize why a horse would choose this yard over theirs. 

Maybe this was the horse you’ve been seeing at night too, simply making itself at home where there’s plenty of food. Maybe you’ve been imagining the buzzing, the music. Maybe the emptiness of your home truly is getting to you. 

Your foot hits something as you take a step forward, drawing your gaze downward. Sitting on your porch is a silver halter. You glance at the horse, its eyes on you as you bend down to pick it up. The leather is soft and worn, diamonds lining the sides and the nose. The buckles shine like new, and you wonder if they’re real silver. 

You glance back at the horse, finding it staring at you as it chews. You take a cautious step forward, then another. The horse doesn’t move, staying still as you make your way down the creaky steps. 

“Is this yours?” You ask, holding the halter up. 

The horse bobs its head before bending back down to graze. 

You blink in shock. Did the horse just...nod? You take a couple steps forward, closer to the horse. It’s big, tall and strong even with its head bent. Its coat is slick and shiny in the morning light, its mane thick and curly and long enough it drags on the ground when it eats. It’s a beautiful horse, and you can’t imagine someone just leaving it here. 

“Aren’t you...supposed to be wearing this?” You say, holding up the halter. 

The horse rears back, letting out a loud neigh as you approach. You stumble back as it moves away from you, staring at you with a cautious look. Your heart is pounding in your throat, short breaths puffing in the cool air. 

“Okay, okay.” You hold your hand out, your fingers trembling. “You don’t have to wear it.” The horse continues to watch you as you make your way back up the steps. “I’ll just...put it inside so it doesn’t get damaged.” 

The horse is grazing again when you step back outside, almost like nothing had happened. 

You watch it for a few moments before sighing. “I guess if you’re going to help with the yard you can stay.” 

You should put up a poster at the general store in town about the stray horse that’s made itself at home on your property. You go about your day, the horse contently grazing on your long grass, paying you no mind. It’s nice, not being alone, even if your companion is a mysterious stray horse that apparently understands you. You’ve always heard horses are very intelligent, though, so perhaps it wasn’t that strange it was able to answer you. 

You work on repairs outside the house until sunset, tired and sore from all the work you’ve been doing. You haven’t even touched the garden yet. You should pull out the lawnmower tomorrow and at least get the grass trimmed down. Make it look like more of a yard. 

You turn around, nearly jumping out of your skin as you find the horse right behind you. You hadn’t even heard it approach you, not even its footsteps on the stone path to the front door. 

You put a hand on your chest, taking a deep breath. “You’re a sneaky thing, aren’t you.” 

An almost mischievous look flashes in its eyes, so fast you almost don’t notice. Almost. You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart as it stretches out its head, sniffing at your sweatshirt. You hesitantly reach up, resting your hand on its face. Its hair is silky and smooth under your hand, almost feeling faintly damp. 

It blows out a breath, pressing its face into your hand. You scratch its nose, a smile tugging at your lips as it moves its head with your hand. 

“It’s nice, not being alone.” You say, gently patting his head. “Things didn’t used to be this way. But, maybe someday they won’t be anymore.” You pat his head before pulling away. 

He watches you walk up the porch steps, and you take one last look at him before you close the door, locking it. 

You relax on the couch after dinner, your eyes drawn to the halter sitting on the coffee table. You pick it up, feeling the weight of it in your hands. It’s heavy from the diamonds, and you just know it has to be expensive. You turn it in your hands, looking at the other side. The leather is worn, which must mean it gets used often. It probably looks good on the horse, the silver contrasting its dark hair. 

On the back of the nosepiece is three letters embroidered in the leather. 

KIX. 

Are they initials? Or perhaps the horse’s name is Kix. 

There’s no other markings, no other indication of the owner’s information anywhere. You run your fingers over the soft leather again before you set it back on the coffee table, heading off to bed. 

***

The horse is standing in your lawn again the next morning. You’re less afraid this time, walking down the steps without pause. It watches you, its tail flicking. There’s something about its stare, those dark eyes watching you with almost human understanding. It sends a shiver down your spine, fear tickling the back of your mind again. 

You shove it aside as you pull the lawnmower out of the shed, sighing as you stare at the expanse of lawn you’re going to have to mow. 

You turn to look at the horse, its eyes on you. “There was a name on the halter.” You say, leaning against the lawnmower. “Kix, I think.” 

The horse bobs its head in a nod. 

“Is that...your name?” 

It nods again. 

A smile tugs at your lips. “Are you...a boy horse?” 

It nods once more, before lowering its head to graze. So that was his name on the halter. You still can’t help but wonder who he belongs to. Surely someone was looking for him. 

Kix continues to graze mindlessly as you mow the tall weeds and grass. As you said you would, you leave a small patch for him to graze on in the back of the house, away from the street and the front door. You know it’s only a matter of time before the neighbors notice your mysterious visitor. You’re surprised none of them have come knocking yet.

The day grows warmer, the sun bearing down on you as you mow the lawn, working your way in a circle around the house. You finish up back by the shed, shutting the lawnmower off before you collapse in the newly cut lawn, breathing heavily. 

Footsteps crunch through the grass before you’re staring upside down at Kix’s nose. His lips tickle your forehead as he sniffs at your head, your hand pushing his nose away. You push yourself up to sit, wiping the sweat from your brow. 

“I don’t know how my dad did this, like, every day.” You say, running your hand over the short grass. “He loved his lawn. He loved his yard. He loved his garden.” You shake your head, staring at the tangled vines and dead bushes, the weeds that have taken over where meticulously planted flowers used to bloom every spring. “Now look at it.” 

Tears burn your eyes. You don’t have the skills your father had, the knowledge, the drive to make and keep the landscaping so beautiful. 

“It deserves so much better than this.” You say, shaking your head. “He deserves so much better.”

Kix nudges against your back, nickering softly. You sniffle, wiping the tear that slides down your cheeks. You knew it would be a lot of work, and you knew you could never restore it to what your father had. You could still try. You could still make it look decent. If nothing else, you could at least clean it up. 

***

Kix is there every day, greeting you at the porch every morning. He hovers behind you often as you begin to work on the garden, snacking on weeds and helping you clear bushes. As soon as you cut one down, he drags it to your trash pile for you. 

You talk to him as you work, telling him all about your family, your dad, your life after you left. You worry about your mom, but you know she’s doing what’s best for her, just as you are. 

Kix seems to understand you, not in the way animals do, but in a human way. It’s a bit unnerving sometimes, the way he looks at you as you’re speaking. You have little experience with horses, though, so you can’t be sure if it’s all that unusual. 

You like having him around. The house feels less empty, even if he stays outside. You haven’t had any strange experiences since he showed up, so you can’t complain. You had begun to question if coming back out here was worth it. Now you’re glad you came back, and you decided to stay. 

You get the garden and the areas around the yard cleared, everything looking so bare now. There were a few bushes still standing, Kix having pushed you away from some of them. You had left them with a shrug, moving on to others that were dead and crumpled. Deciding what to plant was going to be harder.  

You do research, looking at various plants that not only look good together, but also will be easy to manage. You’ll be spending a lot of money, but it’ll be worth it. 

Kix is surprisingly absent the morning your plants get delivered. You don’t see him until the delivery truck is long gone, and you’re hauling plants around the yard to their respective places.

In fact, any time you get visitors, he makes himself scarce, even when it’s the neighbors. It’s odd, but perhaps he’s just shy. You don’t blame him. You weren’t the biggest fan of all of the neighbors, but you’ve known most of them since you were a child. 

Jeffrey’s mother comes to visit one day as you’re working on planting some seeds for flowers. You invite her in for tea, sweaty and dirty but she doesn’t seem to mind. Kix is gone, having disappeared silently before she arrived. Sometimes he moved so swiftly and silently it almost seemed unnatural. 

“How have you been, dear?” Jeffrey’s mother asks you. 

You shrug, pouring the tea. “It’s strange, being back. The house seems so empty.” 

“The yard looks lovely. I’m sure it will be positively stunning come summer.” She says, looking out the window. “Your father would be proud.” 

A bitter smile forms on your face. “I’m sure he would be. I’m not nearly as talented as he is.” 

She turns from the window, her eyes spotting the halter on the table. She gasps, covering her mouth as she stares at it. “W-Where did you get that?” 

You frown, eyeing the halter before looking back at her. “It showed up on my doorstep.” You say. “With a black horse.” 

She rushes towards you with surprising speed, grabbing you by the arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone into the woods again! Don’t tell me you’ve gone back to that place!” 

“W-What are you talking about?” You frown at her. “I’ve never gone into the woods.” 

Her grip on your arms loosens just slightly. “You don’t remember. The day of your father’s funeral. You ran from the service like a sinner fleeing church straight into the woods. We found you out by the lake, right on the edge of the water.” 

Your ears begin to buzz with the familiar sound as images flash through your mind. You remember being angry at everyone for ruining your father’s yard. You remember running from the service, running through the trees. You remember feeling like they were grabbing at you, trying to pull you in all directions. You remember falling, you remember the buzzing sound and the horse in the water. The black horse with milky white eyes. 

“You must get rid of it.” She says, staring at the halter. “Do not go near that horse again. It will only bring you death.” 

You sit on the couch, staring at the halter after she leaves. Things begin to click into place as the memory of that day, the memory of what you saw, the memories of the strange events when you returned replay in your mind. 

Your father had warned you about lakes in the area, that there was a legend about shapeshifting horses that would lure you into the water and drown you. You had brushed him off, just as you had about other things. You know what you saw that day, though. You had nearly been a victim of one yourself. 

And you’ve been talking with it every day for the last few weeks. 

It hasn’t seemed like it wanted to hurt you. But it’s understanding of your words, it’s knowledge, it’s manner, even its eyes tell you everything. You’ve been spending every day with a kelpie. 

***

You leave the house the next day, halter in hand. It’s a foggy morning, colder than it should be. It feels fitting as you approach the dark figure waiting in your yard. You stare at its too human eyes, holding the halter tightly in your hand. 

“You’re no horse, are you?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest so hard you’re certain he might be able to hear it. “It was you that day, wasn’t it? You were going to kill me.” 

The horse blows out a breath, taking a step closer to you. You take half a step back, holding the halter up between you like it might protect you. He takes another step forward, stretching out his neck to nose at the halter. He wants you to put it on him, you discern. 

You’re not sure what will happen when you put it back on. He doesn’t look like that horse in the water without it, but will that change? Will he turn back into the murderous beast he’s supposed to be? He could kill you in this form. A well aimed kick would do the job. Why would he want to be in his other form to do it? Would it be easier? Quicker for you. 

Or perhaps the halter will allow him to communicate easier with you. 

It’s a risk you’re going to have to take. 

Your hands shake as you fit the halter onto his face, having to try a couple times to get it in the right position. As soon as you buckle it the buzzing begins again in your ears. You stumble back a couple steps, Kix shaking his head before he stares at you again. His eyes are milky white, his coat dripping with water as if he’d just climbed from the lake. You stare in horror as his body begins to contort, his bones snapping. 

You stumble back a couple more steps, your feet slipping in the damp grass, sending you sprawling onto your back as he shifts and changes, and suddenly you’re staring at a man. 

He’s tall and strong, rippling with muscles. Your cheeks grow hot as he steps towards you, damp curls falling onto his forehead. He’s naked, tanned skin on display, save for a silver chain around his neck. His eyes are dark, not unlike those of the horse. 

You scramble back as he squats in front of you, but his hand catches your leg, keeping you still. The buzzing becomes almost unbearable, pulsing in your head like a migraine. Cold skin touches yours as you screw your eyes closed, the buzzing beginning to quiet to almost nothing. 

“I apologize.” A deep, accented voice says. “I did not realize you were so sensitive to magic.” 

You crack your eyes open, staring up into deep brown eyes. He’s squatting over you, his hand on your cheek. His skin is cold to the touch, though he’s likely been out in the cold all night. 

“You....you’re...” You stutter out, staring up into his handsome face. He is handsome, his face like what you would expect to find sculpted out of marble in a museum. 

“I am a kelpie, yes.” He says. 

“W-Why....why?” You ask, shaking under him as he stares down at you with a mix of emotions on his face. 

“Let’s get you inside, then I will explain everything.” He says, gently hauling you to your feet. 

It’s possibly dangerous, allowing a kelpie into your home but you’re not in a state of mind to protest. At least this way your body won’t be laying in the yard for days, you think. At least this way you won’t face the same fate as your father. 

He’s shockingly gentle as wraps a blanket around you, sitting you on the couch. He’s still completely naked and dripping water and here he is taking care of you. Your face is still hot despite the chill to your fingers. 

“There’s a towel in the closet.” You say, trying not to stare at him. “A-And some clothes that might fit.” 

He nods, stepping away from you finally. You sink down onto the couch, staring out the window as he digs through the closet by the bathroom. He comes back a few moments later with a towel wrapped around his shoulders and sweatpants covering his bottom half. They were your fathers, the spare he kept downstairs in case of emergencies. 

He sits down on the opposite end of the couch from you, staring at you. You pull your knees to your chest, tucking the blanket tight around you as you stare back. You can hardly believe you just watched the horse you’d spent the last few weeks interacting with shapeshift into a human. 

“Are you going to kill me?” You ask, wanting to get it out of the way first. 

He shakes his head. “No. That was never my intention. Though, I did consider it briefly when you appeared on the shore of my lake. It is simply my nature.” He shrugs. 

“Why didn’t you?” You ask. 

“I could sense something about you. The deep sadness within you, and something else that I now know is your sensitivity to magic.” He explains. “I was curious about you. I watched you every day until you left. I waited six years for your return.” 

Your heart is still thudding in your chest. “You were on my porch.” Is all you can think to say. 

“Yes.” He nods. “I wanted to see you again. I tried to draw you out, but you were resistant to my magic.” 

“That’s why...you gave me your halter?” You ask. 

He nods, stroking the silver chain around his neck. “It is what gives me my power. Without it, I am hardly more than a regular horse.” 

“So...if I took that off...you’d turn back into a horse?” You ask, eyeing the chain. 

He nods. “Yes, and I could not change back until you placed the halter back on.” 

“Why...why did you wait for all those years? Why did you find me?” You ask. 

“You are very beautiful.” He says, a soft look in his eyes. “And I was curious about you. My normal form was too much for you, and I knew I had to gain your trust, so I gave you the source of my power to do with what you wished. I would have remained a horse forever if that is what you wanted of me.” 

Your lips part in a gasp at his words. It sounds so very romantic from someone you just found out is actually a shapeshifting horse. You’ve known him for quite a while, but at the same time, you’ve only just met him. 

“Kix,” You swallow thickly. “I-I’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

He scoots closer to you, taking your hand in his. His skin is still cool to the touch, even against your slowly warming skin. “I wish to be with you, if you will have me.” He says, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I will stay with you until you cast me out. If you wish for me to remain a horse, I will do so. You will carry my halter for all eternity, just as you carry my heart.” 

You flounder as you stare at him. It’s all very sudden, though you suppose the courting rituals of supposed mythical creatures is a bit different than a human’s. “This...this is moving very quickly.” You say, shifting so you’re sitting on the edge of the couch. “I...I considered you a friend, as a horse. It was nice having someone around. This place...it’s so...empty and lonely now. It’s like a void when it once was full of life and joy.” 

Kix’s arm wraps around your shoulders. “Let me help you fill that void. I will do whatever you ask of me.” 

***

You keep Kix at arms length as the weeks pass. Human culture and customs are foreign to him, and you find yourself not only having to teach him, but having to move him often. He likes to be close to you, he likes to touch you. It’s strange after years of distance and sadness. He’s eager to do anything you ask of him, sticking close to you almost every hour of every day he can. He only disappears every few days to return to his lake, usually late at night. He’s always back by morning, sometimes in horse form, but usually in his human form. 

He helps you with the yard, eager to mow it as often as you ask him to after you teach him to use the lawnmower. He does it with almost no effort, always leaving a small patch for his horse-self. He helps you with the plants as well, the flowers you’ve planted growing and blooming, and the bushes he’d pushed you away from while you were clearing things out beginning to grow back as well. 

It’s not as good as your father would have done. You still like to think he’d be proud, though. 

The spring rains arrive, bringing a steady downpour for days. It leaves you and Kix mostly cooped up inside for an extended period for the first time since he revealed himself to you. He begins to grow a bit restless, and you hear him sneaking off every night to return to his lake, or perhaps just to run around for a while. You feel a bit bad, keeping him cooped up, but he offered no complaint. He could leave if he wanted, you had made that clear, but he stays dutifully at your side. 

Things begin to change as the rains continue, the dynamic between you shifting. He stands closer again, hands lingering when he touches you. He sits closer to you, stares at you more. 

Things shift even more one night when you’re making dinner. He had been setting the table as you chopped vegetables for a salad when your knife slipped, cutting into your skin. You drop it with a hiss, watching the blood bead along the edges of the cut before sliding down your hand in a steady stream. 

He’s there in an instant, hands cupping yours. He stares at your cut and for a moment you’re afraid he might snap, he might change, his promises might go out the window. Were kelpies like sharks? Would they lose all senses of themselves in the presence of blood? You had done a little reading on kelpies, but sources were varied and contradictory. Of course, you could have asked the actual kelpie in your house, but you’re never quite sure how to broach the subject. 

He wraps the dishcloth around your hand before leading you to the couch. He sits you down before gently unwrapping your hand. The dishcloth is stained and will have to be thrown out. His cool hands close around your injured one, surprising warmth blossoming across your skin as he closes his eyes. The buzzing begins in your ears again, vibrating through your whole being. He brings your hands to his face, whispering something inaudibly before he blows against your hand. 

He slowly removes his own hands, and your eyes widen as you see nothing but smeared blood on your skin. Not even a line where the cut had been. The buzzing dies down to a quiet murmur, where it always was with him near. He wipes the blood from your hand and from his with the ruined dish towel. 

“How did you do that?” You ask, still staring at your hand in awe. 

“Magic.” He states simply, his breath fanning your face. 

You look up from your hand, finding him so close you can see the small imperfections of his face. The light stubble growing on his cheeks, the light smattering of freckles on his nose, the crease between his eyebrows. His arm wraps around your waist as he leans in closer, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours. 

You freeze in shock, stiffening in his arms as his cool lips touch yours. You weren’t expecting it, and it’s a bit forward, but you don’t dislike it. 

He tears himself away from you, jumping up from the couch. He looks horrified, eyes wide and wild like a startled horse. “Forgive me.” He stutters out before he flings the door open, racing out into the rain. 

“Wait-Kix!” You yell, running to the door but he’s already gone, disappeared into the night. 

You glance back at the house before you take off running towards the trees. The rain pelts against your skin but you don’t care, the memories of your father’s funeral fresh in your mind as you break through the treeline, entering the forest. 

It feels as strange as it did that day, the branches and bushes and roots seeming to reach out to you as you run. You call out to Kix, but he’s completely disappeared. You pause to breathe, looking every which way, but you’re not even sure which direction you came from anymore. You’re not even sure he entered the forest at all. 

“Kix!” You call out loudly, starting to run forward again, hoping you’re going in the right direction. “Kix, come back!” 

A root reaches out and trips you, sending you into the mud. The canopy of trees blocks out some of the rain, but it still slips through, misting down onto the forest floor. You push yourself onto your knees, spotting a lake just through the bushes. You crawl through, ignoring the way the bush tears at your clothes and skin.

You stop at the edge of the lake, looking out at the water. It’s alive with the falling raindrops, your hands and knees sinking into the mud as you kneel at the edge of the water.

“Kix!” You call out again, crawling forward until your hands are in the water. “Kix, please!” 

It’s cold, the rain having soaked you to the bone. You’re shivering, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re not even sure this is the right lake. Nothing looks familiar, but then again, you haven’t been here in six years. 

The water begins to ripple, dark ears and milky eyes peeking above the surface. 

“Kix!” You call out. “Please...come back. I-I liked it.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “I’d like you to kiss me again.”

The horse sinks back under the water, your heart still thudding in your chest. A sudden horrible thought races through your mind. Was this even Kix? Was there more than one lake in the forest? Had you just signed your death warrant because of your foolish desperation? 

The water ripples, a familiar curly-haired head appearing from the depths as Kix slowly makes his way forward to the shore in his human form. He drops to his knees in front of you, the buzzing sounding in your ears as he cups your face. His skin is frigid, even against your own chilled cheeks. 

“That was foolish, coming after me.” He says, almost shouting over the pouring rain. 

“Why did you run?” You ask, shivering from the cold. 

“You did not kiss me back. I thought perhaps I overstepped. I thought you were angry with me, that you might throw me out.” 

“It surprised me,” You say, looking up into his dark eyes. “I-I wasn’t expecting it. But I liked it, and I’d like you to do it again.” 

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. You breathe each other in for a moment before he’s closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His skin is frigid and offers no respite to the cold mud seeping into your pants, or the rain pelting down around you. 

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him. You’re shivering, fingers and toes long having gone numb in the freezing rain. 

He pulls away as your teeth begin to chatter, standing back up. His body contorts and cracks as it changes back into his horse form. He kneels down in the mud beside you and you pull yourself up onto his back. You wrap your arms around his neck as he stands, his hooves kicking up mud and water as he takes off running into the trees. 

You cling on for dear life but you can’t help the laugh that tears from your throat as the rain and wind whips at your bare skin. You feel happy and free for the first time in a long time. 

I'm not going to tag everyone twice, but if you'd like to be added to my taglist, I do have a SFW only option on there.

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #clone medic kix x reader #x reader

[kyberblade]

Art by @fordo-kixed-rex for my Halloween AU BTY drabble. Reader is pulling The Razor Crest toward her in a fit of rage. (That’s how the scene goes, and really Dani surprised me with the Crest in the pic at all, then we tried it in the big size for giggles, and I was like oh wait, it actually kinda looks like she’s pulling it closer if you put them side by side…. 👀) Isn’t it freaking fantastic?! Holy crap, Dani.

The fireflies. The trees…. The colors of the sky, and all the stars… The Razor Crest…. That absolutely killer saber…. And look at those hands. Those non Lego character hands. Just look at them! 😏 (She insists she can’t draw hands, and I love to tease her about it because look at those magnificent hands! No more threats of Lego hands!!!)

Everything about this is wonderful. Thank you, friend. I love absolutely everything about it.

#i Am NoT aN aRtIsT #shut your face #you are so insanely talented i want to squeeze you and hope some of it sticks to me #the mandalorian fanart #mando fanart #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanart #din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorain

[enigmatist17]

Just thinking about my current Rex going back in time fic (Pt 1 Pt 2) and how he'd react with Jesse, out of all the others.

The last time he saw Jesse, he was leaving him to die because he couldn't save them, and after the first part where he speaks with all of his men, He just avoids Jesse for a little.

He can't face him, not after Order 66, not after watching the man he'd fought with since almost the beginning dies because of some damned chip. If he could have back then, he would have saved every brother that fell with the Resolute, guilt that had never left despite the years that slowly passed by.

Jesse corners Rex in his quarters after he decided it was long enough for Rex to wallow in his own pain, locking the door so he couldn't just slip past.

"Why won't you look at me?"

"Company. Ready. Aim."

Screams as Jesse and so many fall, a ploy to save his and Ahsoka's lives.

The hands on either side of his face are gentle, a face that had only traveled his nightmares filled with so much sadness and sympathy, and Rex latches onto his hands as if he was falling.

"You tried..I saw you try.." Rex's voice is a cracked and pathetic thing, and tears are falling by the time they both fall to their knees. Those hands draw Rex close as he cries, Jesse catching broken mando'a of how Rex was so sorry, he tried to save them all, he failed his men, he failed his brother.

Jesse holds him, thumb gently crossing over Rex's new scar on the side of his head. The captain had nearly had a full-blown panic attack when he realized he had his chip again after all the years without it, and all but dragged Kix into the medbay and locked the door behind him. Tup and Echo had been the two to convince Rex to leave the medbay almost two days later, having realized that he had a special fondness for the two due to whatever had happened in the past, or was it the future?

Whatever the case, Jesse makes a vow that he'd never let what had passed happened again, and it would start with getting Rex to trust in his sheer will. For now, he'll just sit here with his captain, and give a small prayer to the Force to help them succeed this time.

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