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#star wars tcw fanfiction
starrylothcat · 11 months
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🔥NSFW🔥Wolffe x Fem!JediReader One-Shot
Summary: You and Commander Wolffe share an intimate moment. 1400 words.
Warnings: NSFW 18+. Minors DNI. Pure smut, with feelings.
Author’s Note: I love Wolffe. I love soft Wolffe. That is all. Please enjoy and drop me a line!
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Right now, you weren’t in control, and you loved it. Wolffe had you practically bent in half on the edge of the bed, your knees thrown above his shoulders as he relentlessly struck a deeper and deeper part of you with every roll of his hips. Tears pricked at the sides of your eyes from the intensity, your mind completely clouded with desire, with him. You watched as his usual stoic facade crumbled, his good eye locked with yours as you both climbed closer to release. His large, warm hands grasped at your legs, his thrusts becoming more uncontrolled with every cry of his name that left your swollen lips.
On the battlefield you were powerful, decisive, The General. The responsibility of being a Jedi laid so heavy on your soul, you took these moments when you could forget, just for a little bit, whenever you could. In these minutes with Wolffe, you were just you. He was just him. You weren’t Commander and General. You weren’t at war, your lives at risk every single second of every single day. You could indulge in what you weren’t allowed to have, but maybe could if the circumstances were different.
Wolffe knew he wouldn’t last much longer as he watched you begin to completely fall apart beneath him, something only he could do to you, something only he had the privilege. Seeing his General splayed out, completely and utterly vulnerable, offering yourself to him without hesitation, made him crave you even more. It also made those screaming thoughts in his head that this was wrong, against every regulation he could think of, a little quieter.
Wolffe lowered your legs from his shoulders, pressing his torso down on to yours as your ankles locked around his waist, instinctually bringing him as close as possible to you. His forearms caged your head, every muscle in his body quivering, his cock driving deeper still in to you, causing you to see stars. You cried out and grasped his shoulders, your body writhing beneath his.
Wolffe brought his lips to your ear, hoarsely whispering how beautiful you were like this, telling you to let go, that he had you. How you were his, and no one else’s. Your breasts and thighs had already been thoroughly marked by his teeth, driving home the fact that you were indeed his and only he made you feel this way.
You nodded, barely forming thoughts as he brought one of his large, calloused hands down to your pelvis and began rubbing a thick finger deliciously against your clit, your body on the verge of imploding.
At any time you could easily overpower him, but you never did. You let him take charge, giving him some semblance of control in these moments, whereas in the battlefield there were none. He could lose you at any second, his worst nightmare was not being able to protect you, failing at his duty as Commander, even though he knew you didn’t need his protection.
But at least right now he could have you, care for you in the only way he knew how. Help release the burdens you both carried.
Wolffe let out his own guttural moan as your nails dug in to his shoulders, holding on for dear life. Your back arched off the bed as you got closer to your release, his practiced finger working magic on your swollen clit. Wolffe was getting close too, your unbelievably hot and tight cunt trembling around his cock. He couldn’t help but stare at you, your cheeks flushed and your hair coming undone, sweat dripping down the side of your head from the exertion, your lips parted as more cries left your throat. You sometimes had the same look in the heat of battle, the look that originally fueled his desire for you. It was never enough, though. He constantly wanted more.
Wolffe brought his head down to yours, biting down in to the flesh of your neck as another whine was ripped from your throat. “Wolffe, I’m so close…please…”
“Cum for me, mesh’la. ” Wolffe’s words were slurred against your neck, his eyes now squeezed shut at the building sensation in his lower abdomen. “Look at me, I want you to look at me when you cum, that’s an order from your Commander.” Wolffe was begging now, he had to see your face. He had to see how he made you feel, it had to be worth it, all the secrecy and sneaking around, not fully knowing where this relationship might go or how long it would last, or even could.
Finally, with a final tight circle of his finger, your orgasm violently crashed over you. You could barely keep your eyes open as you grasped at his cropped hair, your body completely coming undone as his strong thrusts coursed intense pleasure throughout your body. You choked out his name over and over, your head thrown back against the pillow in ecstasy.
Wolffe’s dark eye didn’t leave your face, your exploding orgasm causing your core to clench around him. The rush of your juices and your incoherent words caused his thrusts to become erratic as his own powerful orgasm suddenly rushed through his body.
Wolffe let out a growling, gasping moan of your name, his hips not slowing down as he continued to watch your face intently, savoring every sensation, every subtle movement of your lips, your eyelids fluttering as your eyes rolled back in to your head.
You weren’t his General. He wasn’t your Commander. You were everything he wasn’t supposed to have and didn't deserve. Wolffe was a smart man, and he knew this was more than just carnal pleasure. You understood him more than anyone ever had. You were an anchor, a shining beacon that kept him grounded. Your smile, your touch, your power. You trusted him, saw him as an equal. He loved you.
After one final press of his hips, Wolffe collapsed on your body, touching his forehead to yours, trying to find his breath as he slowly pulled out of you. Your chests heaved together as you reveled in each other’s presence. You both knew you couldn’t stay like this much longer but were savoring every second.
The moment you both left your personal quarters the masks would be put back on, the Jedi General and the gruff Commander, proud to serve the Republic, and nothing more.
Your breathing began to return to normal and you let out a satisfied sigh, bringing a hand up to his face, gently tracing his scar. You ghosted over his cybernetic eye, continuing down the side of his devastatingly handsome face. He leaned in to your touch, as you looked at him with what he could only presume as love. That secret word that you have not said out loud, but hung heavy on both your tongues after every intimate encounter. Something that you and Wolffe assumed would always be out of reach, his life completely dedicated to the Republic and yours to the Jedi Code. But that changed. You opened him up to the possibility of more than just being bred for war. He opened you up to the possibility of non-selfish attachment, realizing you needed him as much as he needed you. Wolffe wanted to finally say it, but instead brought his lips to yours in a kiss so tender you felt your heart ache. You were the only one who got to see him like this, the gruff Commander absolutely at your mercy. Wolffe did everything with purpose, and you didn’t mistake what he was trying to tell you.
I love you.
You cradled his face in your hands, kissing him back with the same gentleness he was showing you, hoping he’d understand.
I will always love you. I will always protect you. I will always be yours.
The urgent beeping of your comlink cut through the heavy silence of the intimate moment, lost somewhere in the jumble of robes and armor thrown carelessly by the door of your quarters. Your time was up. Wolffe pulled away from you, his face searching yours, still on top of you. “We have to go, Wolffe.” Your voice was shaking. “They are expecting us at the debrief.” Wolffe grunted, wanting to say something, to acknowledge the moment you had just shared, to say hell with the debrief. Your comlink beeped again, something you couldn’t ignore a second time, and he knew it. It was time to become General and Commander again, you couldn’t escape your fates. Wolffe rolled off of you, and you both dressed slowly, not ready to once again put on your professional guise, not wanting your time together to be over.
You clasped your belt, hooking your lightsaber to your side and adjusted your robes as Wolffe tucked his helmet under his arm. His serious and composed demeanor returning, but you could tell he was hesitating, staring at you with intensity, sensing he wanted to say something. You were about to ask what was wrong, but Wolffe suddenly reached for your forearm, yanking you back in to him, his helmet clattering to the floor. Wolffe growled and grasped the sides of your face, bringing you in for a desperate kiss. His lips moved fervently against yours as he finally uttered the forbidden words that had been burning a hole in his chest since you first invited him to your quarters, giving yourself to him.
I love you.
Your heart soared as you urgently whispered it back with ease, feeling lighter with every admission as his lips continued to devour yours, holding on to him so tightly you thought you might crack his plastoid armor. Everything but him faded away. He was giving his heart, his life to you. It was all he had to offer. You gasped the words again and again over his lips, letting him know there was no question in your mind about him, about what you had.
Wolffe pulled his lips from yours, letting you both breathe, not wanting this to end when it was seemingly just beginning. But it had to, at least for now. Duty called, as it always had and always will. His heart was pounding out of his armor. You looked at him, so lovingly and radiant he was once again at a loss for words, feeling as if he didn’t deserve this. But there you were, admitting the same long-hidden feelings that have been growing under the surface ever since you joined his squad.
Wolffe stepped back and let his hands fall from your face, one finger brushing over your lips as he did so, a promise for later. Nothing in this Galaxy was certain. But you were. And that’s all he needed.
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Author’s Note: Never ending thanks to @wanderer-six for beta reading and being feral over this man with me 😚
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Hey :) hope you are doing ok.
I was wondering if there is gonna be a pt2 of The Safe house story ??? I just wanna say that I totally loved it and hope you will continue🥰
Have a nice day 😘
The safe house 🤍 (Pt. 2) (Captain Wilco x reader)
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TW/WARNINGS: having a gun pointed at you, concussions and being dazed, having to remove peices of armor from an unconscious person, blaster marks, mention of wounds, collapsing, fainting, having to care for a grown person, dead relatives, broken arms
A/N: Tysm! I'm so glad you liked it! And yes, there's going to be more than a few parts, they'll just come out very slowly 😭
@littlenephilim999uriel
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Grumbling, you crouched down, setting down your new companion gently against a tree, breathing hard.
You had taken to slinging his arm around your shoulders and moving him that way, though his legs still dragged behind and your back was screaming with the effort of not collapsing under his weight. He had to be at least a foot and some change taller than you, making it even more difficult not to get his legs caught on things along the way.
The most nerve wracking part, though, was making sure he was still breathing normally and not slipping into some sort of coma.
You kneeled next to him, patting his chest plate and eventually his cheek insistantly to try to get him to open his eyes. Luckily, it worked, as it had the other three times, though he was just as out of it.
"9980…What?" He mumbled, blinking slowly.
You breathed a sigh of relief, he had been mumbling a series of numbers (who you guessed were, sadly, his brothers) and nonsense every time you had woken him up, but at least he was waking up.
"Okay, thank you, dear. You can go back to sleep now."
He hummed, closing his eyes again and resuming his light breathing.
You grunted, taking his arm around you again and pushing both of you to your feet once more.
After a few more hours of this, you finally reached the discreet, familiar path that led down to the safe house. You nearly sobbed with relief, your back and legs clearly sharing the sentiment.
You sped up, the decline allowing you some ease with your precious cargo. When you finally reached the door, you typed in the short code quickly, thanking the maker that you had memorized it as young as age five.
The door swooshed open, near good as new, and you almost dropped him in preemptive relief as soon as you passed the threshold. Instead, you continued to drag him, tapping along the hardwood floor with your foot until you found the hollow sound you seeked.
Finally you kneeled, still supporting his weight, and pressed firmly on the spot. You laughed lightly as the hatch rose slowly, always in awe of your grandfather's workmanship and his ability to bring older practices into the modern day so efficiently.
You poked your head into the space below. It smelled like dust more than anything, but you could make out faint traces of the incense he used to burn to flush out the smell of the game he would prepare in his workspace. Feeling along the wall, you found the switch, bathing the room in a soft orange glow.
You huffed, beginning a careful descent of the wooden steps that led into the space, yelping when you accidentally smacked his armored shoulder against the hatchframe.
After a few minutes of struggling, you finally got him down onto one of the three cots that lay collecting dust in the small room attached to the main living quarters.
"Oh, thank the maker-" You wheezed, bracing your hands on your aching back. You were so eager to just get everything in the storage rack unpacked so you would have food and medicine to actually live off of, nearly out the door to go do all of that before you passed out beside him, but you stopped.
One more time, just to be safe.
You beat the dust out of the cot beside him, moving him over. His breathing was still even, which you thought was a good sign as you leaned over him, trying not to invade his space more than you needed to to check on him.
You patted him quickly, "You still there, uh- sir?"
His eyes opened slowly once more, squinting as they adjusted to the lamp light.
You smiled down at him, brushing his hair back, "Good."
Slowly, your eyes came to rest upon his armor; you had to remove it, didn't you?
Would that be crossing a line? Maybe, but you would have to to inspect the blaster mark that marred his chest plate and to get a splint on that broken arm. It was necessary, even if it would probably be uncomfortable for both of you.
Carefully, you decided to start on his bad arm. He groaned as you undid his shoulder plate, making you wince.
"I know, I know- I'm sorry." You nodded, moving to his Rerebrace.
By the time you got to his gauntlet plate, you felt eyes on you.
You looked up and right into his dilated, honey irises.
"Oh, hello." You managed to laugh lightly, genuinely surprised that he had enough energy to stay awake for more than a few seconds.
He continued to stare, and you eventually went back to sliding off the last piece of that arms plating, placing it on the pile at your feet.
Setting his arm down as gingerly as you could, you went about unclipping his chest plate, placing the pieces on the floor and checking for damage to the chest of his black body glove that lay underneath. There didn't seem to be any blood or even a burn mark on it, thank the maker, it must have been a glancing shot.
Satisfied with your inspection, you got up, going to look for one of your grandfather's old medical journals to find how one actually went about making a splint. Or, you were, until he grabbed a hold of your wrist with his good hand.
You turned, confused as he squinted up at you for several moments.
Finally, he cracked a slight grin, letting out a flirty, slightly slurred, "Heyyy~"
You both stood like that for a second, staring at each other, until you snorted softly, detaching his hand with little effort, "Hey."
-
When you finally returned, armed with your new knowledge, a first aid kit, and a cool cloth, he was passed out again, snoring lightly now.
You placed it over his forehead, smiling when his pinched expression softened at the sensation.
Moving an old wooden chair to the side of the bed where his bad arm rested. It was a task to move it from his stomach in a way that minimized his wincing, but you managed, wrapping the area with the most swelling in a gauze bandage firmly.
Placing the splint along his forearm, you fastened it with straps of old fabric as tightly as you could without hurting him, avoiding the wound itself, and at last, you placed the arm carefully in a sling. You were shaking with nerves by the time you were finished, too nervous that you might've messed something up, but he didn't seem to be going into shock so you were most likely good.
Rising from your spot once more, you left the room, sending him one last look in the doorway before turning the corner to begin unfreezing a few portions for a decent supper for the two of you.
You were only a few minutes into beginning the cooking process on your small stove when you heard a bang from the other room, making you jump.
Getting up quickly, you rushed down the hall to make sure your new companion hadn't hurt himself by rolling off his cot or something, but when you arrived in the doorway again, you could only really stare in shock.
The man had somehow managed to get to his feet, albeit not steadily, shaking and swaying in a way that had you walking slowly and carefully over to him, nervous of startling him but terrified he would collapse and hit his head/arm.
Unfortunately for you, he was still awake enough to draw one of his blasters quickly when you did startle him, pointing them directly at you.
I really should have thought to take those off of him, you thought.
But you had been so concerned with getting him safely to the house that you had completely forgotten about the weapons, even though that's what you had approached him for in the first place.
The only thing you could do was stare like a dugar dugar in headlights as he trained them shakily on you.
Your eyes trailed from the barrels of his blaster to make contact with his, pleading in a way you hoped would show that you weren't a threat.
His eyes widened as they locked with yours and, slowly, he lowered his weapon, letting his arm fall limply to his side.
You let out a sigh of relief, not breaking eye contact as he stared at you, seeming almost in a dazed sort of awe. Though, your relief was cut short as he stumbled, falling to his knees as his eyes closed once more. You scrambled to his side, allowing him to collapse into you and sighing as his head came to rest on your shoulder, now breathing lightly again.
It wasn't a huge operation hauling him back up onto the bed, but you were still shaking from having a blaster aimed at you. You frowned down at his sleeping form, exasperated as you took the guns from his hand and holster.
This was going to be one long and wild ride, wasn't it?
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Right, so ever since that last time with the Wolffe story you wrote for Butterfly and your comment on Boil loving hugs? I could not get that out of my mind and he has been stuck there ever since. So, now I am going to sent in this official request! Boil x F! Reader. As I do with almost all my requests I always mention the full bodied ( or big gal ) reader because... relate to it and stuff and ofcourse: Hugs !. Everything else I leave up to you the whole SFW/NSFW/Established Relationship/Not Established etc etc. ( still blaming you for adding Boil to my mind now btw )
Ok so I have been batting around this idea for forever and I finally have a fic for you! I really hope you love it and fall in love with Boil all over again. For your humble consideration...
The One that Matters
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Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Plus Size Female Reader
Rating: T
Warnings: body issues, insecurity, fat shaming, swearing (fairly mild though), kissing
Word Count: ~3000
Author’s note: This is technically a two-parter but part 2 is rated M and contains the smutty part of the story. I split the story so those of you who want SFW can enjoy part 1 without it. Special thanks to @imabeautifulbutterfly @kavecika and @mysticalgalaxysalad for beta reading!
Part 2 link
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You stare in the mirror, tugging slightly at the top you had just put on with a new pair of stylish pants. The outfit had seemed so cute in your mind, but on your curvy body, the top seems less flattering than you had imagined it. You sigh, wondering again if this was a bad idea, going out on a date with a clone trooper. This is the fourth outfit you’ve tried on and nothing seems quite right for a dream date with such a hunk. You give yourself another look in the mirror; you know you’re an attractive woman, you’ve always felt pretty enough, and you’ve had your share of dates, but Clone Trooper Boil is on another level. With his gorgeous face, soulful eyes, broad shoulders, and ample muscles, he is, without a doubt, the handsomest man you’ve ever met. 
Despite your protests that you just wanted to stay home, your friend Jaxie had dragged you out for some fun, vowing to take you to a place where there were sure to be loads of men excited to meet a woman exactly like you. Sure enough, the famed clone bar, 79s, had delivered on the promise of a ton of worked up soldiers, partying hard. There had seemed to be an endless supply of them, each one as tall, dark, and handsome as the next. Still though, next to the petite and beautiful Jaxie, you started to doubt that any of those troopers would look your way. Yet to your surprise, it only took one trip to the bar before you found one who couldn’t seem to stop looking your way.
As you cut a path through the crowd, sidling up to the bar in the middle of the packed club, you could feel someone watching you. You turned slightly to see a clone trooper with orange and white armor, a mustache, and a half smile looking at you. You looked over your shoulder to see if Jaxie was next to you, but she had stopped to speak to someone a few paces back.
“I’m looking at you, beautiful,” a deep voice came from his direction. He sounded amused but friendly.
“You are?” you couldn’t keep the note of surprise from your voice as you looked back at him and into those golden brown eyes.
“Absolutely I am,” he gave you a broader smile, and held out his hand, “Clone Trooper Boil, ma’am, and I’d be honored if you’d let me buy you a drink, beautiful.”
The way he’d looked at you so sincerely as he told you he thought you were beautiful that you’d let him get you that drink. Before you knew it he was telling you how his buddy, Waxer, had dragged him out the club against his wishes. He’d been of a mind to head back to his barracks for the night when he saw you heading his way, and he decided maybe Waxer had been right about this place. The next thing you knew, you had spent all evening talking to him, exchanging comms and making plans for tonight. He even gave you an extended hug goodbye, being sure to tell you how great a hugger you were.
*ping*
Message from Boil> Hi beautiful! 15 minutes away, can’t wait to see you!
Message from you> Ok! See you soon!
Determined, you look yourself in the eye through the mirror,
“A gorgeous man has asked us out to dinner and a show and we are going to go. He thinks we’re beautiful and we are going to trust that his taste is the only one that matters. Now, let’s get to that closet and find something to wear.”
Energized by your pep talk, and motivated to get moving before Boil arrives, you march back to your selection of clothes to see what you can find. Pushing through items that seemed too much like workwear or too casual, you finally land on a forgotten dress you’d worn to a friend’s wedding. You’d only worn it once, but it is pretty and in a color you love. It had seemed too fancy to wear to work and you hadn’t been out anywhere special in so long that you had forgotten it was here. Quickly you slip it on, careful not to muss your hair or makeup, and then turn to glance at yourself once more. As the skirt twirls elegantly around your legs, you finally smile at your reflection, this will be perfect.
As you’re grabbing your bag for the evening, you hear your door chime.
“Wow, you look fantastic, even more beautiful than the night we met, and I didn’t think that was possible,” Boil greets you with a soft lopsided smile. He’s wearing his formal uniform tonight instead of his armor and he looks dashing in the grey-green suit. 
“And you look even more handsome,” you reply with your own beaming smile. 
Your stomach flips as your eyes roam over his impressive form. He’s so broad and muscular, and has such a stunning face that again you can’t believe your luck in getting to date him. A slight feeling of insecurity hits you though as you wonder what people will think when they see you together. Pushing that evil thought away, you remind yourself that their opinions don’t matter, and you straighten your shoulders as you mentally remind yourself that you are going out to enjoy yourself. 
Boil leans in to kiss your cheek and pull you into a quick hug. He wonders if you can hear his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He’s been looking forward to tonight since you agreed to the date. He sneaks another peek at your delectable curves as you step out your door. Stars, she’s so damn pretty! His hands itch to run over the lovely slopes and dips of your body, wondering if your skin is as soft as he has imagined it to be. He’d love to pull you into a passionate embrace right now and kiss you until your toes curl, but that might be a bit too much for the start of the night. Shaking his head to help himself focus, he quickly takes your hand and wraps it into the crook of his elbow as he leads you out to his borrowed speeder for the night.
“I hope you like Corellian food?” he asks, “I made a reservation at a restaurant my general recommended. He said it’s a very nice place with a lovely atmosphere and perfect for a romantic evening.”
“That sounds great,” you reply, delighted that he’s thought so much about the date. Other men you know would just leave all the planning up to you or take you to whatever was closest and open.
Boil helps you into the speeder and he can’t resist dropping another kiss on your cheek as he does so. The traffic is fairly light right now so he feels comfortable sliding a hand from the steering to cover yours and hold it as he guides the speeder to the restaurant. He really hopes you like this place. He had been determined to plan the perfect date for tonight, something romantic and entertaining, that would hopefully entice you to want to see him again. He’d been trying to find ideas on his holopad while fending off his brothers’ dumb jokes about being as lovesick as a shiny with his first weapon when General Kenobi had thoughtfully provided him with advice. He’d already secured tickets to what was supposed to be the hottest new performer in town, but getting the suave Jedi’s tips for where to take you to dinner had been much appreciated. As you arrive at the location, its elegant velvet awning and uniformed doorman, tell him that he was right to trust the general’s opinion.
“What a beautiful restaurant! And everything smells so good,” you tell Boil as you’re seated at an utterly charming candlelit table. A waiter pours you a glass of wine, in a crystal goblet no less, and then leaves you to decide what to have from a mouthwatering selection of cuisine. From the fresh flowers on the table, to the soft lighting and romantic music playing, Boil couldn’t possibly have selected a more perfect first date location. He takes your hand once again, and gazes into your eyes,
“I’m so glad you like it, and from the looks of things, we’re going to have a fantastic meal,” he says, sounding eager. 
“I don’t suppose you get to have many fancy dinners as a trooper,” you reply, feeling a touch sad for him.
“We get great food when we’re on the Negotiator,” he explains, “But rations when you’re out in the field can leave a lot to be desired. Still though, I’m grateful to have them.”
“I’m sure you are, but I’m glad you’re getting to have a really special dinner for a change,” you comment.
“It’s special because I’m with you,” he murmurs as he squeezes your hand. 
The dinner is everything he hoped it would be, the food is exquisite and the company even more so. He listens fascinated as you tell him about your life on Coruscant, your work, and your desire to travel more once you can do so safely. He regales you with stories of his missions, focusing on the entertaining or interesting aspects of his brothers and their exploits. Boil tries to only tell you about happy or good things that have happened to him, but when you gently explain that he doesn’t need to sanitize his life for you, he feels grateful in a way he wasn’t expecting.
“You’re sure you want to hear about the bad stuff too?” he asks, still a bit unsure.
“Boil, I want you to feel free to share things with me, even the bad stuff,” you reassure him, “I know you’re a soldier and that means you’ve seen and experienced terrible events. I’m not saying I need every gory detail, but if there’s ever anything you need to talk about, I just want you to know that I’m here to listen.”
“Thank you, sweetheart, that’s comforting and honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to say that,” he admits, looking into your eyes, “The other women I’ve met have just wanted to hear about the excitement.”
“I really want to get to know you, Boil, and that means hearing about all aspects of your life,” you tell him, then adding with a soft laugh, “Like the way I told you all about my witch of a co-worker, and that certainly wasn’t pleasant. But I wanted you to know what my job is really like.”
He nods in agreement with you,
“Well, when we were talking before about being grateful for food, even military rations, it made me think of a recent mission I completed on Ryloth.”
Different from his earlier stories that were meant to charm you, Boil tells you about seeing the starving Twi’leks on Ryloth and how badly they had been treated by the Separatist occupying forces. He expresses his shock and concern for people that he had previously dismissed as being weak, and he was embarrassed that he had been so quick to judge them at first. The more he talks, the more you lean in, fascinated by him. His openness and forthright attitude are refreshing and your admiration for him only increases. As he finishes his story, telling you about helping the little Twi’lek girl find her family, and discovering that she saw them as brothers, you have to wipe back a tear.
“Boil, you are a real hero, the way you helped that child and her people,” your voice gets a bit choked up, “I wish more people could understand how much you and your brothers have given to this galaxy.”
“I didn’t tell you that story so you’d think I was a hero,” he mumbles, looking down at the table and feeling a bit bashful.
“I know you didn’t,” you reply, reaching out to caress his cheek and encouraging him to look back at you, “But that just makes me like you even more.”
“I like you too, beautiful, more than I can say,” he responds, bringing your palm to his lips so he can place a warm kiss there.
Boil feels as if he could spend the rest of the evening just staring into your sparkling eyes, but he remembers the tickets he purchased and the second part of the date.
“We should probably leave if we want to get to the show on time,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand. 
As you slip your hand into his, you ask, “What type of show is it?”
“A comedian,” he explains, “He’s supposed to be really funny. One of the Naval officers, Lieutenant Commander Rampart, was telling me how great he is when I was looking for ideas for our date.”
“Sounds fun, lead on,” you reply.
When you arrive at the theater, you see it’s designed like a cabaret with little tables all around instead of seats in a row. You’re a bit surprised when the usher leads you all the way down to the front near the stage, they’re the best seats in the house. 
“This is very nice,” you say to Boil.
“I didn’t realize the seats were this good, honestly,” he tells you.
“We like to recognize our military patrons,” the usher explains, “Please enjoy your evening.”
Before you have a chance to order drinks, a server brings a bottle of sparkling wine to your table,
“Compliments of the gentlemen over there as a thank you to the brave soldier,” they say, placing the bottle down with a small flourish. 
“That’s very kind,” Boil replies and you both wave over at the other table in thanks.
“I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who recognizes your important contributions to the war,” you say, giving his hand a little squeeze.
Boil’s cheeks flush slightly and he looks a little embarrassed, “I don’t deserve any special treatment.”
“It’s nice that people recognize all that you sacrifice for us, I wish more people would,” you tell him. You’ve seen too many people be dismissive of the clone troopers, so it’s really nice to see people treating Boil with respect.
You enjoy the wine with him and soon the show begins. The man who comes out on stage is extremely sarcastic and while you find yourself giggling at some of his first jokes, as he continues on with his set, you find yourself laughing less and less. His jokes seem rather mean spirited and they’re starting to be offensive. You notice that Boil is also not laughing and he sits stiffly in his chair. The audience has quieted down a lot and it’s clear to the performer that they’re not in agreement with him.
“Well, geeze, rough crowd tonight, I guess you all left your senses of humor at home,” the man jeers at the audience, “Let’s see who’s here and forgot how to laugh.” He looks right at your table, sizing up Boil, 
“Oh, we got one of the copy and paste boys here tonight, a clone trooper. What’s the matter, pal, missing the old tube tonight?” The man laughs at his own joke but the rest of the audience is silent. The jerk continues, speaking to Boil like he’s a child, “I know you’re probably just a few days old, but laughter is this thing we do when things are funny.” 
You see Boil’s fists tighten and his jaw is stiff, you can practically feel the anger coming off him. 
“Obviously the Kaminoans forgot to add a sense of taste when they churned you boys out huh? I mean look at what you’re with tonight, yuck,” the jerk turns to look at you now.
You feel a sense of dread go over you and you try to shrink down in your seat. You wish he would just stop. 
“I know you boys are hard up for female company, but I’m sure you can do better than this tub of lard. Don’t let her be on top tonight or you’ll have to report another casualty to the GAR.”
You feel awful, so embarrassed and humiliated.
“That’s enough!” Boil pushes his chair back and jumps to his feet so fast that it crashes to the ground with a loud bang, “It’s one thing for you to insult me, but to insult a lady is despicable. You’re a sad excuse for a man if you think it’s acceptable to make fun of someone’s appearance for your own amusement. We live in a galaxy of incredible beings of all different bodies, shapes, and sizes, and yet assholes like you still think women are only acceptable if they match your particular preferences. My girl is beautiful the way she is, and I’m honored to be with her. I’d get up there and kick your ass, but we’ve already wasted enough of our valuable time together listening to your sorry excuse for comedy.” 
Boil turns to you and takes your hand, helping you to your feet. He places your hand on his arm and moves to walk out. You hear the comedian call out,
“If I wanted your opinion, buddy, I’d ask a droid, at least you can tell them apart.”
Boil stops for a moment, he turns back to look at the jerk. But before he can say anything, someone throws a bottle on the stage where it crashes at the man’s feet. 
Someone in the crowd yells, “The trooper’s right, you’re an asshole.”
More bottles and glasses are thrown amongst shouted insults at the comedian. Boil hustles you out of the theater, but you turn back just in time to see a particularly large glass hit the guy in the head. It makes you laugh in spite of it all.
When you’re back out on the street, Boil takes you a little ways away from the theater to a small plaza where there are some pretty potted flowers and trees with little twinkle lights. He leads you to a bench and motions for you to sit. When he looks at you, his eyes are soft but worried. He turns to face you, taking both of your hands in his, “I’m very sorry I brought you to that awful show tonight, and I’m sorry you were treated with such disrespect.”
“Oh, Boil, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known he would say such rude things to us both. I’m sorry he was disrespectful to you too,” you reply. Then thinking of the way he jumped to your defense, you smile up at him, “But the way you stood up for me, that was truly honorable, and I appreciate it more than I can tell you. I think I finally understand why women say ‘My hero!’ to the guy in those cheesy romance holofilms.”
“How could I not defend you? It was the right thing to do. Any real man would do the same, doesn’t make me a hero,” he tells you, looking a bit embarrassed at your praise. Before you can say anything else, he continues, his voice slightly husky with emotion, “I think you’re so beautiful, every part of you, I love all your luscious curves, and I have since the moment I first saw you.”
“Do you know what I told myself as I was getting ready tonight?” you say, “I told myself that when it comes to my appearance, your opinion is the only one that matters tonight. That man was a real jerk, but he doesn’t matter. You think I’m beautiful, and that’s all that counts tonight.”
“I like that,” he smiles at you, and his hand comes up to caress your cheek and jaw, “I’d like you to think that every night.” His eyes look down at your lips and then back up to find your eyes. “Can I kiss you? It’s all I’ve been thinking about all night, really since we first met.”
“Yes, please,” you just barely breathe out the words and his lips are on yours. Boil’s kiss starts off so soft and sweet, his lips moving lightly over yours as he pulls you into his embrace. A soft little moan sneaks out of your mouth, and Boil answers it by deepening the kiss, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips seeking entrance. When you grant it, you hear him groan in satisfaction as he holds you tightly to him, brushing his tongue over yours in a passionate kiss.
Boil holds you close to him as he kisses you, one hand at your waist while the other is on your upper back. His hands are itching to explore more, but you are in public and he doesn’t want to push his luck. Gently he breaks the kiss before he can get too carried away. When he looks at your pretty face, he thinks you look luminous with stars in your eyes as you gaze back at him so happy and content that it makes him smile even more.
“That was the best first kiss I’ve ever had,” you tell him, “In fact this is the best first date I’ve ever had.”
“Even with that awful guy?” Boil asks, surprised but relieved that you think so.
“That guy was an ass, but without him, I might not know how great of a man you really are, Boil,” you explain.
“Well, for our second date let’s skip the comedian,” he replies with that lopsided smile of his.
“You’re already planning our second date?” you ask with mock surprise.
“Sweetheart, I’m planning our second, third, fourth, fifth, hell, all the dates you’ll let me have.” His face is all lit up with the idea of a future with you.
“You can have all the dates you want, my handsome hero,” you answer him, “As long as I’m with you, the one that matters.”
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Thank you for reading! Click here if you want the smutty part 2!
Tag list: @onabouteverything @kazthedestroyer @noodlesfics @ladykatakuri @boomtowngirl
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bloatedandalone04 · 7 months
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Like Fine Wine
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➪the one where you can’t resist hayden’s look for his role in ahsoka.
Warnings: hubby hayden bc i want to marry this man so badly, current age (or 41 year old) hayden, smut, fluff, pet names, unprotected sex, handjob (brief), hair pulling, soft smut, you guys just straight up loving on each other, reader is feral for him, spoilers for ahsoka if you haven’t seen the last 2 episodes, takes place during the filming of ahsoka (back in may 2022), this is just self-indulgent tbh
Word Count: 2.5k
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
When you finally made your way back to the hotel room you and Hayden were staying at during the filming of Ahsoka, the last thing you were expecting to see was your husband propped up against the headboard, shirtless with grey sweats covering his lower half, and the script for tomorrow in his hands. 
He looked absolutely divine, and you bit back a moan at the mere sight of him, the wine bottle you had bought from the store across the street nearly slipping from your grasp.
When he heard the door open but didn’t hear your voice right after, Hayden looked up to see you standing in the doorway, an unreadable expression on your face as you stared at him. “Hey, baby,” he murmured in a greeting, flipping the script back to the first page as you closed the door without breaking eye contact. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go over this scene with me, but you seem…preoccupied. What’s on your mind?”
You set the bottle down on the table by the door, shrugging off your jacket as you stepped towards him. “I was just thinking,” you trailed off, biting your lip as your eyes stalked his body like he was prey. 
Hayden sat up against the headboard, a teasing glint in his eye. “About what?”
Kneeling on the bed, you kick off your shoes before crawling over to him and straddling his lap. “About what I could’ve possibly done to deserve such a hot husband,” you answer, taking the package of papers from him and dropping them on the rug beside the bed. 
His hands instinctively grab your waist, his own eyes raking up and down your face. “Eighteen years together and you’re only asking that now?” He teased, his fingers lifting your shirt slightly so he could feel your skin on his. 
“Oh, no, I’ve been asking myself that since the day you messed up your practice run with Ewan and had to restart it from the very beginning,” you say back, watching as a knowing smile graced his lips.
“That was only because you walked on set looking like something right off of the red carpet. Kinda like how you look right now,” he not so subtly gazed down at your body, his blue eyes beginning to darken the longer he had you on top of him.
You roll your eyes but blush at his forward words, resting your hands on his shoulders. Eighteen years together and fifteen since you’ve been married, and he still was able to effortlessly make you feel like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 
Your engagement ring and wedding band reflected off the single lamp he turned on, unknowingly setting the mood for when you got back. It was on the bedside table next to his phone, which had been turned completely off since he was away from set and planned to spend the rest of his night with you. 
“Aren’t you a charmer?” You mumbled, feeling the cool metal of his own wedding band, that was identical to yours, pressed against the heated skin of your hip. “Seriously, do you even realize how good you look right now?” 
His hair was still somewhat styled in his clone wars look for the flashback scene, and the way it curled in certain spots had your whole body aching for him. If he hadn’t taken off the makeup for the scar already, you probably would’ve been wrapped around him by now. “I don’t know,” he answered, kissing you back when you placed your mouth against his. “I’m not sure I can believe it after you told me that about ten times on set earlier today.”
You and he had actually met during the filming of Star Wars Episode II, but didn’t start dating until Episode III had been fully completed. You went to the premiere together and that was your public debut as a couple, and you still remembered how loudly the fans cheered when he kissed you right there on the carpet.
You, too, would be in a few flashbacks towards the end of the series, in the form of your Force Ghost. Your character was killed in the last half of Episode III by Anakin himself, and you still remembered filming that scene like it was yesterday. 
The tears you shed that day were one hundred percent real, as you were actually saying goodbye to the character that introduced you to your future husband. At that point you and Hayden had gone on several low-key dates, but didn’t become official until a couple of months later. His acting was also more real than not in that scene as he had to pretend to kill you in a somewhat brutal way.
To revisit your character for the first time in over a decade was one of the best opportunities you had ever gotten, and you could only assume that this was how Hayden felt when he was asked to return as Anakin in Obi-Wan. While your scenes wouldn’t be filmed for a few more weeks, Hayden still insisted you stay with him until the filming was wrapped up completely. 
“I’m not apologizing for hyping up my husband,” you say against his lips. “I’m being so serious, Hayden, you look good.”
He grins up at you, pulling your body closer until your chest pressed right up against his, the subtle rock of your hips making you suppress a moan. “Well, thank you, sweet girl,” he nudges your nose with his. “I can always count on you to make me feel good about myself.”
“You so can,” you agree, trailing your hands down his toned chest, smirking at the way his stomach muscle flexed at your light touch. “You’re so attractive, I don’t think you even realize it.”
Hayden hummed, slowly dragging his hands up your body and taking your shirt along the way. “I could say the same thing about you,” he said before asking, “You’re awfully flirty tonight, what’s got you all worked up?”
“You,” came your simple reply, your fingers pulling at the loose string of his sweats. You lean down to place a chaste kiss to his lips, one that leaves him wanting more as you descend your mouth down to his shoulder, where you place a few open mouthed kisses to his skin. “You, being so unbelievably sexy when you’re back in your element on set. The way you looked when you were practicing earlier? The way you look now? You don’t know the things you do to me, Hayden.”
“I beg to differ,” he rasps out when you place another kiss to the base of his throat, his hands quickly fumbling to take off your shirt. It drops to the floor beside the script and you lift your head so you were looking right at him, your body level with his as you slowly rocked your hips against his. “Y/n.”
You give him a teasing grin, sliding your hands down his sides before they land on the front of his sweats. “I know,”you murmur and kiss him slowly, slipping your hand past the waistline and palming him. You hold back a smirk when you find him already hard for you, his body’s way of responding to yours every time you come onto him. “I just want to make you feel as good as you look.”
Hayden huffed out a breathy moan as you pulled him free from the sweatpants. “I want to make you feel good, too, baby,” he managed to say as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking him. 
You hum, “I already feel good from just looking at you,” 
A ghost of a moan escaped your lips when leaned forward to kiss your exposed shoulder in an attempt to quiet his own sounds. 
Though this was a nice hotel, he still didn’t want to risk the possibility of the walls being thin enough for him to receive noise complaints, though the thought had him growing harder in your hand. 
“You don’t know how much you turn me on,” you nearly whisper, the pad of your thumb brushing over his tip and making him groan quietly against your skin.
“After twenty years of knowing you, I think I know exactly how much I turn you on,” he mumbled, bucking his hips up so you stroked him a bit harder. “It’s the same way with you, baby. You make me feel so good all the time.”
You whimper quietly when his hand slips inside the front of your leggings, biting down harshly on your bottom lip when he finds your clothed clit with no trouble at all. Being intimate with the same person for half your life came with that perk. “I want you so bad,”
Hayden lifted his head back up to connect your lips in a kiss, murmuring, “You have me. Since that first day I saw you, I’ve been all yours,” when he pulls away to lift your hips in order to rid you of your leggings and the lace that covered your core. “I love you, Y/n Christensen.”
You moaned at that, moving back to straddle his hips again. Gripping the sides of his neck, you use the tips of your thumbs to tilt his head up in order to be able to give him a deep kiss. “I love you,” you whined as he guided your heat over him a few times, prepping both himself and you with your slickness. “My hot, sexy husband.”
And then you were lifting your hips and sliding onto him until he was buried deep within you. Your hips met his as moans escaped both of you, with Hayden leaning back against the pillows and headboard to let you take full control. 
While he always wanted you in this way, seeing him as Anakin again clearly did something to you, and he was more than okay with letting you take the lead like you needed to. 
You close your eyes and grip his shoulders, moaning softly when you lift yourself up before dropping back down again. “I’m never getting over this,” you confess, though it wasn’t new news. Even though you had been together for nearly two decades, you still hadn’t grown tired of each other, further proving the fact that you were meant to be together. “Fuck.”
Hayden groaned under his breath, his hands gripping your waist as you began to slowly ride him. “Just like that, sweet girl,” he praised softly, feeling the way you clenched around him at his words. “We fit so well together, don’t we? Make each other feel so good.”
You moan a bit louder, nodding quickly as your hands move to tangle in his  hair. The fact that it was you who got to see him like this, and it was you who got to mess up his Anakin-styled hair had you going a bit feral.
“So good,” you agree, dropping yourself down on him with a bit more force, really setting a pace that would ensure you both wouldn’t last too long. He is forty one and you were pushing thirty nine, you couldn’t really expect to be as durable in the bedroom after a long day of filming. 
Still, when he hadn’t spent a whole day on set, Hayden could go for longer, simply because he aged unbelievably well and kept his body in great shape. 
He also wasn’t expecting you to want to jump his bones as soon as you got back from your wine run after he changed into more comfortable clothing, planning on going over a few of his scenes with you before bed. 
That still didn’t stop him from letting you completely drain any and all energy he had left from the day as you grind your hips against his. Small, needy whines left your pretty lips as you moved further down on him, driving him even deeper into your willing and wanting walls. 
“You’re so beautiful,” he couldn’t help but say, making your pace falter slightly as you flushed at his words. “My girl. The prettiest woman in the world.” He complimented as his hands slid up your back and expertly unclasped your bra. 
He pulled it from your body and replaced it with his hands, his thumbs and index fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. You whimper at the feeling of his smooth fingers against your sensitive buds, tugging harshly at his strands. “Hayden,” you murmur, guiding him into you quicker with swift grinds of your hips. “Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah, baby,” he said under his breath, trailing one hand down to circle your throbbing clit with his thumb. His other hand moved to tightly grip your hip again as you picked up the pace, beginning to feel that tight sensation forming in your abdomen. “You feel so good. So good for me, baby, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut as you pulse around him, your thighs burning with exertion and forcing you to stop for a brief second before Hayden grabs your other hip and begins thrusting up into you. “Yes,” you gasp out, tangling your hands tighter in his hair as he lifts himself up from against the pillows to really allow him to drive himself impossibly deeper inside you. “Oh, fuck, yes, don’t stop, Hayden, please.”
How could he deny you your wish? In all honesty, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to stop, anyway, as you were clenching so tightly around him and sucking him in as deep as he could go, he almost blacked out for a second from how blinding the feeling was. 
“Come for me, sweet girl,” he requested quietly in your ear, his deep and raspy voice making you clench tighter around him as your walls pulsed in time with his quick thrusts. “I want you to, want to feel it.”
Your mouth opened in a faint cry and your stomach swelled as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. As your whole body tensed up in his arms, Hayden felt your walls spasm slightly before he also felt the flood of your release coat him. It gave him the perfect amount of friction for him to fall not too far behind. 
His jaw locked slightly, his hands wrapping around your middle and pulling you closer to him as he, too, came. Deep within you, he pushed his seed further with a few extra thrusts before he was forced to stop due to the sensitivity of it all. 
With his last remaining energy, he lifted you up and set you down on the bed next to him. He hovered over you a second later, wrapping your legs around his waist as he nuzzled his head in between the space of your neck and shoulder. “I love you so much,” he whispered in between peppered kisses to your sweaty skin. “Thank you for always making me feel like the most important person, everyday.”
You ran your fingers through his damp and messy hair, playing with the curls as a smile formed on your lips. “You are the most important person,” you reminded him, kissing him quickly before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him further down onto you. “And I love you, too.”
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lemoneste · 2 years
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Now I would appreciate a fic where Anakin Skywalker just kills Palpatine on accident. I was watching revenge of the sith and through the whole sequence of Obi-wan and Anakin saving Palpatine from the ship I was thinking: “Anakin is waving his damn sabre EVERYWHERE it’s a miracle he hasn’t hit something on accident” and then bam: idea.
In Anakin’s defence there’s a LOT going on so like it’s not his FAULT that he wasn’t looking where he was slicing and the next thing he knows Palpatine’s head is no longer on his shoulders but rolling down some flight of stairs and Anakin just sort of,, pees himself a little.
“Oh. Shit.”
A whole mile away Mace Windu is sitting in his quarters and suddenly the migraine in the back of his head disappears and he’s like “whoa.” And then jokingly is like “who had to be sacrificed for that damn ache to finally go away.” Turns out!
Obi-wan, through a holo-call, (with Anakin skywalker furiously sobbing and heaving through snot and coughs in the background): hey so, we should look into getting Skywalker some ADHD medication.
The Jedi council: why? What has happened?
Obi-Wan: just a little loss of focus, it happens to the best of us.
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sheisagoddess · 6 months
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𝙰𝙷🫦
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thedarlingdearestdead · 6 months
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Piloting:
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Summary: You are an innocent padawan just trying to get some flying experience. Anakin gets quite close and personal... P2 here!
Warnings: None, kissing.
Word count: 1,470
The control room was buzzing with energy, the action hadn’t begun yet, in fact you had barely entered deep space. That didn’t stop the round chamber being filled with voices, nervous and excited all at once. It was a diplomatic mission but with some high profile guests. And one very high profile, up and coming Jedi. Anakin Skywalker was in charge of escorting the ships path to Alderaan. It was a new starship, one of the first of its kind in the entire galaxy. It was kind of a big deal. You supposed that was why it got such an infamous man as its a protector.
Your own master had remained of Courasant, giving you this mission was a part of your pilots training. You were one of many people charged with flying the large ship, all sitting before a large globe-like window at the front of the vessel. It was beautiful. 
Not that you were getting much of a look outside. Indeed, the information which was being processed on your holo in front of you was almost too much for you, flying down the page at a million miles per second, you could barely look up. Trying to type, do calculations and stay updated on the latest feed all at once, you barely recognised the change in atmosphere. 
But then, a sudden silence fell over the room. You finally looked up from your holo to see what had caused it, and that's when you saw him. Just at your flank, an intimidating figure in black, messy curly hair, bright blue eyes. He had an eager grin on his face as he looked around the large cockpit. 
Anakin walked down the stairs in the centre to talk to the captain, his voice was quiet but animated, though his posture was reserved- most likely aware that he was being watched by the rest of the room. 
Your eyes flicker down to your work as he continues his conversation, trying not to get distracted from your task. It was already bad enough being on battlefields with him, surrounded by smoke and chaos. Here in a relatively quiet, well lit, stunning new room in the middle of outer space, you could feel his presence becoming an issue. 
He claps the captain on the back congenially and walks back up the rows of seated crew, surveying various screen and rapturously taking in the information. Anakin loved flying, stories of his landings were popular gossip among the other cadets that you often trained with.
You were sucked back into your work, tapping almost habitually now on your keyboard and zoning out, focused completely on the numbers in front of you. That’s when you feel a shadow on your left. General Skywalker had made his way to your section of the long desk and was scanning your holo even as you worked. He leaned in closer. Then closer still. You jolted as one of his hands went to the back of your chair, the metal one, and the other lay on your desk. He was practically crouching over the surface, overcrowding your space entirely. 
You couldn’t breathe. And you couldn't deny the thrill that ran down your spine at his proximity.
"Is everything running smoothly, L/N“ His voice was low, curious and amused, he could clearly sense the effect he was having on you. 
You swallowed hard, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand. "Yes, sir," you managed to reply, hoping your voice didn't betray the flutter in your stomach.
Anakin chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Relax, pilot. We're not in the middle of a battle. There's no need to be so tense."
You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. But it was difficult with Anakin so close, his scent enveloping you - a mixture of metal and leather and something distinctly, dangerously, male.
You tried to ignore the proximity, but the warmth of his body radiating behind you was making it difficult to concentrate. Anakin's breath tickled the shell of your ear as he leaned even closer to look at your screen. His metal hand grazed your shoulder as he pointed at something on the display, sending shivers down your spine.
"Is that the trajectory for the hyperdrive jump?" he asked, his voice confident and clear in the echoing hangar.
You nodded, trying to keep your focus on the screen. It was hard to keep your composure with Anakin so close. You could smell the spicy cologne he wore, and it was intoxicating.
"Good work," Anakin praised, nodding at you and looking you in your stunned eyes.
But it passed so suddenly and he was looking out on the entire crew now, “Good work all of you. Looks like it’ll be smooth sailing from here.”
The tension in your body dissipated as Anakin walked away, but you couldn't shake the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. You tried to push the sensation out of your mind and focus on your work, but it was no use. The rest of the journey felt endless, your mind constantly wandering to the magnetic presence of Anakin Skywalker.
When the ship finally arrived at Alderaan, you couldn't help but feel relieved that the journey was over. You quickly gathered your things and made your way out of the cockpit, eager to finally get some fresh air, recuperate your composure and energy for the flight back in a couple of days. You were staying on planet for the weekend before being due back at the Temple. But as you stepped out of the ship, you were met with a surprising sight.
Anakin was waiting there, leaning against the side of the ship, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked up as you approached, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. You felt your cheeks flush as you tried to keep calm. Your grip tightened on your bag and you nodded at him in greeting, silently praying that he would let you leave. 
But Anakin didn't falter, instead he pushed himself off the ship and walked towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by him as he approached, his imposing figure towering over you. He stopped just inches away from you, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something.
"You did well on the flight," he said, his voice low and husky. "I was impressed. Your master speaks very highly of you"
Your heart skipped a beat at his compliment, but you tried to remain passive. "Thank you, sir," you replied, keeping your voice steady. 
“It’s an amazing opportunity working on big ships like this one, and for her maiden voyage…” His voice is fond as he looks back at the ship behind you two. “Though I couldn’t help feel you were slightly distracted at one point.”
“Sir?”
He comes in closer to you, bending down, mouth right next to your ear. ”Did my presence make you nervous?"
You swallowed hard, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. “You have a way of... commanding attention.”
Anakin straightened up slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I can't help it," he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. 
“You didn’t have to get so close.”
“I really was checking the engine stats”
“And after?”
“Well… Then I suppose I was checking on you.”
You swallowed hard, feeling a rush of heat flood through your body.
Anakin's expression grew more serious as he leaned in once again, his warm breath ghosting over your cheek. "I can't deny that I'm drawn to you, L/N. There's something about you that I can't resist," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.
Your heart was pounding in your chest as a million thoughts raced through your mind. You couldn't believe that the legendary Anakin Skywalker was showing interest in you, a padawan. 
Before you could even process what was happening, Anakin's lips were on yours, kissing you hard and possessively. You moaned into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to his touch. His metal hand slid down your back, pulling you closer to him as he continued to kiss you with a hunger that took your breath away.
For a moment, you forgot where you were, lost in the sensation of his lips on yours. But then you pulled back, gasping for air.
"I couldn't help myself," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. 
You pulled back further, your hands still clutching your bag. "We can't, not here. Not now," you blurted.
”I know," he replied softly, taking a step back. “We have all weekend though.” He picks up your bag which you had dropped in the moment of passion and carries it towards the doors in an obvious sign for you to follow. Gobsmacked, you do. 
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Suckers
Fives & Echo
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Summary: Hilarity ensues when Fives spots a lollipop in the shape of a clone.
Pairing: None
Characters: Fives, Echo, Rex, Fox
Tags & Warnings: humor, crude humor, sexual humor, sexual innuendos, art comic at the end
Word Count: 337
Author's Note: I blame cursed clone wars merchandise on eBay, late-night Discord chats, and @kimiheartblade for this abomination 😂 It's pretty much just dialogue. I don't even know if I want to call this a fic, considering how thrown together it is. But sometimes you just have to write funny stuff. As always, please enjoy 💚
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"Hey, Echo, look at this!" Fives yells. He grabs Echo's arm and pulls him towards the candy storefront.
"What?" Echo huffs, then yanks his arm back.
"It's us!" Fives exclaims.
Echo raises an eyebrow. "Huh?"
"They made us into suckers!" Fives smiles. He points to the clone-shaped lollipops nestled in a stand next to the candy store window.
"And you're excited about that, why?" Echo asks.
"We're famous!" Fives grins.
"Right," Echo rolls his eyes, "because minors and middle-aged single women sucking on us is peak fame."
"Aw, come on, Echo," Fives says. "It's a novelty!"
Echo crosses his arms. "It's disgusting."
"I'm gonna buy one," Fives says, then walks towards the door.
"Wait!" Echo yells, trying to stop him, but he can't.
Fives buys the lollipop and returns to Echo, who is waiting for him outside the shop.
Echo sighs. "Happy now?"
Fives smiles and then shoves the lollipop in Echo's face. "Here, have a lick."
Echo cringes away. "Ew, no way!"
"It's just a lollipop," Fives says.
"I don't care," Echo huffs.
"But don't you want to know what flavor they made you?" Fives asks.
"No!" Echo says. "I don't have a flavor."
"But it looks like you," Fives says.
"I'm not sucking on something that looks like me," Echo says.
"Then it looks like me," Fives says.
"I'm not sucking on something that looks like you either!" Echo exclaims.
"It's kriffing sugar!" Fives retorts.
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Rex taps his foot against the pavement, his arms crossed, while staring at his two arc troopers who are currently sitting handcuffed on the edge of the curb.
"Does someone want to tell me why the Coruscant Guard got called out here?" Rex asks.
Fives and Echo look away from each other in embarrassment.
Fox clears his throat. "Several passersby complained of two men in an altercation with one of them repeatedly yelling, 'suck on it'."
Rex takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"We can expl–"
"Don't," Rex interjects with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to know."
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Comic by @chiliger
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Masterlist
AO3
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mrbondz · 6 months
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Ezra when he found out about Ahsoka teaching Sabine*
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clonesuperiority · 11 days
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I'm using my recent TBB osession to draw my clone ocs for the first time in forever again (Since I haven't named them yet: These are Kick, Boxer and Isle - finally cleaned up)
I have been reading some clone x reader fanfics (share some with me pls I love them gsjvkfgsf) and lets say ... I have been noticing a pattern in regard of the ... bathrooms in Clone Bar 79 ...
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vodika-vibes · 2 months
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Just One Date
Summary: You're a Military Doctor attached to the 212, and you've come to consider Commander Cody as a friend. Turns out, that he sees you a little bit more.
Pairing: Commander Cody x F!Reader
Word Count: 1333
Warnings: Cody makes suggestive jokes, and gets whacked with pillows and has a hand slapped over his mouth for it.
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni
A/N: HAPPY 2224 Day! I came up with this idea at 5:30 this morning when I originally woke up and when I remembered what today was. There might, possibly, be a sequel where the date actually happens. It depends on people's reactions to this one.
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You’ve been a civilian employee to the GAR since you were old enough to enlist. The military wasn’t exactly your “dream” career, but it got you away from your incredibly toxic family, and it paid you to go to medical school.
And, really, at the time the odds of there actually being a war was slim to non-existent.
Jokes on you, the war started 6 months after you graduated and you found yourself bouncing from military base to military base, before finally getting assigned to The Negotiator, under General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody.
The Commander is everything you’ve ever wanted in a Senior Officer, respectful and professional when the situation calls for it, but more than happy to share jokes with you when you’re not working.
The General, however, is a walking migraine.
At this point, you’re beginning to think that your job would be easier if you were assigned to literally any other battalion.
“General Kenobi,” You say as you pinch the bridge of your nose, “Did you, perhaps, skip your basic first aid lessons as a child?”
Helix, working on Commander Cody at the bed behind you, doesn’t bother to muffle his laughter, but you tune him out with the ease of long practice, instead pinning your General with an accusing glare.
“Well,” General Kenobi rubs his chin thoughtfully, “I was a very busy padawan-”
“So, perhaps, you skipped the basic first aid classes that say when you get stabbed, do not remove the stabbing implement?” You interrupt.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that I skipped the lessons-” He demures.
“And your reasoning for ignoring Commander Cody’s very reasonable order to not remove the knife from your thigh?” You ask.
“...uh…I was in shock?”
You smile. It’s a nice smile, and you’re pleased to see General Kenobi slump on the hospital bed, “Well, since you ignored your Commander’s very reasonable, and correct, order. You’re going to spend the next three days in a bacta tank.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to use bacta tanks as a punishment.” General Kenobi says thoughtfully.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to argue with me.” You counter with a roll of your eyes. “Relax, General. It’s not a punishment. You’re more injured than you look. And maybe you can get some sleep if I drug you enough.”
General Kenobi sputters, “Commander! Are you hearing this?”
“Hm? What? I’m not listening.” Cody says with a sly smirk.
“Well, there you have it. The Commander’s on my side.” You say brightly, as you spin to grab a syringe of the sedative that was especially formulated for Jedi. “Good night, General.”
“This is mutiny,” General Kenobi says with a frown.
“Yes, yes. I know.” You inject the liquid into his IV, “We’ll see you in a couple of days.” The older man slowly drifts off to sleep, and you pass the General over to the men who can get him into a bacta tank easier than you.
And then you spin on your heel and move over to Commander Cody, who’s laying on his hospital bed very peacefully, a small grin playing on his lips. “What’s wrong with you?” You ask, as you grab his file and scan it.
“Well, I was blown up, mesh’la.” Commander Cody says blandly.
“Well, that was silly of you. Why would you do something like that?”
“I woke up this morning and thought, ‘how can I make my medics pull their hair out today?’ and decided that getting blown up was the best way to go about it.”
You smother your laugh and glance at him, “One of these days Helix is actually going to kill you.”
“But you’ll protect me won’t you?”
“Of course.” You wink at him, “Everyone knows I’m the scary one.” You scan his record for a moment, and then favor him with a smile, “Aside from some bumps and bruises, you look totally fine.”
He grins at you, “So you like how I look, do you?”
You sigh, “Commander, that joke got old within a week of working with any of you.”
Cody just laughs and sits up, “Come on, Doc. I won’t tell. We both know that I’m the most handsome.”
“One of these days,” You counter as you set your hands on your hips, “I’m going to buy a box of chocolates and address it to ‘the most handsome man in the 212’ just to see who wins.”
“Aww, mesh’la, you don’t have to buy me chocolates.”
“Ooh, someone’s cocky.”
“You have no idea.” He flashes a boyish grin, “I could show you, if you like.”
You squint at him, “What?”
“Just how cocky I am.” Cody clarifies with a sly grin.
Your jaw drops and your face burns, before you grab the thin pillow and smack him with it, “Behave!”
Cody laughs, as he fends off the pillow, “What? I just repeated what you said. It’s not my fault that your brain lives in the gutter.”
“Rude. Rude!” You huff, “I changed my mind, I’m not going to protect you from Helix. RIP Commander Cody. I knew you well.”
“C’mon mesh’la,” He teases, “Having a dirty mind is a boon. Well, I think. Especially if it’s dirty about me.” Cody reaches out and lightly grips your hips, tugging you closer.
You scowl at him, though it’s really more of a pout, “You know, there are almost 2 million men identical to you-”
“Yeah, yeah. But you don’t have dirty thoughts about them.” Cody replies confidently.
“You’re so sure of that?”
“Yup.”
You shake your head, “Come on, Commander. You’re hardly a mind-reader.”
“I don’t have to be. I see how you look at me.” He says with a smirk.
“And how do I look at you?” You ask sarcastically.
Cody’s smirk grows into an amused grin, “Like you wanna drag me into a supply closet and ri-” You slam your hands over his mouth.
“Okay! Thank you!” You yelp, your face burning. “Why do people think you’re the mature one?” You bemoan.
“Because I play the part well,” He says smugly, his voice muffled by your hand. 
“Can I remove my hand or are you still going to try and embarrass me?” You ask.
“I like it when you get all embarrassed, it’s cute.” Cody replies before he pulls your hands away from his mouth, and then presses them to the bed next to him without releasing them.
“Hm, you seem to have forgotten to release my hands.” You say dryly.
“I didn’t forget. I did it on purpose.” He says, his dark eyes scanning your face.
“And why would you do that?”
“Go on a date with me.” Cody says.
You blink at him, startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“One date,” He clarifies, “That’s all I’m asking for.”
“Commander-”
“Cody.” He interrupts, his gaze serious, “One night. Let me show you how good we could be together.”
You avert your gaze for a second, and you know that he can feel your heart racing with how he’s holding your hands still. “Commander, we’re not going to be returning to Coruscant for several months-”
“Cody, and I don’t care. I can woo you even on the Negotiator. Give me a chance.”
“And if we don’t go well together at the end of the night? What then?”
“We’re going to be great,” Cody counters, “But, if,” He rolls his eyes, “For some reason, we don’t work out, then nothing will change.”
“Com-”
He tugs your wrists so that you topple against him, “Cody. My name isn’t that hard, is it?”
“...Cody.” You finally say with a sigh, though there’s a small smile playing on your lips, “I suppose, since you’re so eager, I can agree to a single night.”
“There's going to be more than one.” Cody says confidently. 
You hum thoughtfully, “Prove it.”
He grins at you boyishly, “I can do that. I already have the whole thing planned.”
“...How?” You ask, exasperated.
“I’m very good at what I do.” He replies smugly.
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clangrogu · 2 months
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Clones x Reader Fic Recs (Tech Edition)
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A Promise Made by @vodika-vibes (F!Reader, SFW, Angst, Order 66, Trauma, Jedi!reader)
The Quarry by littlelady1121 (F!Reader, Rated M, Smut, Angst, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Trauma, Reader is an assassin)
Checkmate by @like-a-bantha (GN!Reader, Rated G)
Tiny Dancer by @vodika-vibes (F!Reader, SFW)
Blessed Silence by @mandos-mind-trick (Soulmate AU, NSFW, Smut, AFAB!Reader)
Shy Tech by @zoeykallus (F!Reader, SFW)
The Gift by spockulative (F!Reader, SFW)
Baby of Mine by @jedipoodoo (F!Reader, Mom!Reader, SFW, Babies, Breastfeeding, Dad!Tech)
Just Stay a Little Bit Longer by @dewdrop-lemonade (F!Reader, Pregnant!Reader, SFW)
Aay'han by @din-miller (GN!Reader, Jedi!Reader, SFW)
Loving Care by @zoeykallus (GN!Reader, SFW)
Star-Crossed Lovers by @seriowan (F!Reader, NSFW, Smut, Rated X)
Lighting Your Heart by @nahoney22 (F!Reader, SFW)
At the Seashore by @nahoney22 (F!Reader, SFW)
Almost Disasters by @ghostofskywalker (GN!Reader, SFW)
298 notes · View notes
kometqh · 18 days
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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭
Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 of Forget Me Not Rex has finally settled down on a faraway, isolated planet. Finally, he has found some semblance of peace from the ongoing war against the Empire. Finally, he can take the time to recover from losing you, but how long will that last? Word Count: 3007 Warnings: Swearing, making out, old injuries. A/N: This has been specifically requested, and can be thought of as either the continuation of the previous story or an alternative ending :) It was going to turn into a big fat smut but my brain couldn't handle posting that (I've never written or posted a full smut before!!)
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Vast golden fields swayed gently in the warm, evening summer breeze. The golden sun illuminated the landscape, a warm glow settling over the hay and Rex's figure, who was relaxing on his porch, hands behind his head as he observed the sight before him.
How many times had he dreamt of such a sight? Of owning his own little farm, of owning a couple of banthas and chickens and goats? 
Too many times for his younger, prouder self to admit. 
Where his brothers used to loudly fantasise over their ideal futures, he was too busy playing the perfect soldier, sticking to his obligations, rules and limitations.
But now? Now he had that one small bundle of joy, held tightly within his iron-hard grasp. And he wasn't about to go exchanging it for anything else. Not in a million lifetimes.
The loud, content bellowing of a few banthas stripped him of his thoughts, his gaze looking for the one particular creature that always seemed to make the most noise. Far ahead, to his left, was one bantha, rolling its body in the hay, short tail wagging left to right, continuous hums and moos escaping its throat in ground-shaking vibrations.
A soft smile tugged at Rex's lips; that was his oldest, and his first ever Bantha.
He had spent the last four years nurturing and caring for the creature, leading it over stretches of land, until he was finally able to settle down in an abandoned farmhouse, far away from any civilization.
The farmhouse itself wasn't in such bad shape. Sure, it needed repairs here and there, but it wasn't anything a tough solider like Rex couldn't handle. He got to work pretty quick, with his handy tools and a shit ton of determination, he had refurnished and fixed the farmhouse within a year and a half, and now, all that was left was to renew the coat of paint that seemed to chip away any time it rained.
But Rex figured that could wait, after all, no one would be able to tell that the farmhouse was being used as long as it looked old and rusty, right?
With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth provided by the rays of the setting sun. He was tired. It was a long day of working on the farm, planting the appropriate crops for the upcoming, much colder, season, as well as milking the banthas to make different cheeses the next day.
He thought over his schedule, already feeling a headache rising in the back of his head. The following week he was supposed to be making his way over to the nearest town, to sell whatever he had managed to produce over the last two weeks. Going to the closest town over was his least favourite activity; he preferred to stay hidden away in his little farmhouse with his Banthas and Tooka.
He preferred to relax on his porch, to watch over his animals as they grazed happily across the long stretch of fields, to feel the warm sunrays kissing his skin, to watch the sun lazily disappear behind the horizon.
He let his tired eyes fall closed, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly fading away, a soft smile shining on his face at the soft hum of the summer breeze and grazing animals, an all too familiar weight lifting from his chest inch by inch. The gentle breeze passed his body, leaving a pleasant, cooling chill to run down his spine.
Darkness and warmth surrounded him like a weighted blanket, though his body felt light. He dreamt of nothing, his mind jumping to and from consciousness, his body twitching at a sudden shift in atmosphere. His ears almost twitched at the soft whir of a ship flying above, goose bumps rising over the expanse of his bare, muscular arms as a much stronger wind grazed past his body.
But his eyes snapped open to the sound of panicked tip-tapping of his banthas, their heaved breathing and confused whines reaching his ears. The warm honeyed glare of his eyes was gone, now replaced by a deep black as he looked around, the night sky pitch black.
He must have snoozed off or something, how many hours have passed?
The banthas continued to make noise, but this time the briefest whispers accompanied them. With a strong, heavy inhale, Rex slowly rose from his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to cover for his lack of vision.
Who were they? The Empire? 
Surely not.
Rex had made sure to cover all of his tracks, remaining classed as officially dead in the Empire's files. 
Did someone betray him? 
But who? 
And how? 
Only a very small number of people actually knew-
"Hey lady! Calm it!" A familiar voice said all too loudly, giving an affectionate pat to one of the banthas. The voice, it was so.. so like Rex's.
His eyes widened as the other figures shushed the man, and Rex couldn't help the relieved smile and sigh that escaped his chest. 
He knew those people. After all, they're the ones he rescued Echo with.
However, one by one, various emotions swirled around in his head. Happiness? Of course. He was happy to see his brothers after four gruelling, lonely years. Confusion? Hell yeah! What was so important that they had to break their no contact? Relief too, he could feel the way his heart rate had spiked just at the mere idea of danger, blood rushing into his head, loudly pounding against his eardrums.
Slowly, one foot moved, followed by the other, taking turns leading Rex down the porch, towards his brothers. Towards his family.
At the sight of Rex's moving figure, some men groaned, whereas Wrecker and Omega began running at full-speed towards the male, tackling him to the ground in a long awaited hug.
"Rex! We missed you!" Omega exclaimed, erupting into fits of laughter as Rex's strong arm wrapped around her and Wrecker.
"Alright alright! Now get off of me, I can feel my bones being crushed!" Rex exclaimed, though his hold on the two didn't ease, nor did his smile disappear.  Quickly scrambling off of him, the two couldn't contain their happy, yet seemingly mischievous smiles as Hunter extended a hand out to Rex.
"It's been a while, brother." Hunter nodded, pulling Rex in for a quick hug, patting his back. Hunter's body was stiff, his shoulders tense and breathing strained as he moved away, Rex noticed. That was unusual.
Though a smile remained on his face, Rex couldn't help but feel nervous at the strange tension surrounding the batch. As he looked around, one eyebrow quirked at the sight of Tech and Crosshair shielding Echo from view and.. someone else? Who were they?
"What's going on..?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two.
Echo and the figure stood in the very far back, Echo's arm was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, holding them protectively close to his chest, his grip tight as if the figure would disappear into the darkness of the night if his hold let up even by an inch.
His eyes remained trained on Echo and the mysterious figure, though Rex's head tilted slightly to the right, in Hunter's direction.
"Hunter-" Rex started, but was quickly interrupted by the look on Echo's face. His ears strained, almost missing the soft, trembling whimper. The figure brought a hand up to their face, too late in stifling the sound.
As their hand lifted, Rex noticed that all-too familiar, cuffed sleeve hanging onto their hand. 
Time seemed to slow, his chest straining painfully at the sound. Rex could feel his heart drop, the air sucked from his body like a popped balloon.
His sight was stuck on that sleeve, visions plaguing his mind, replaying like a broken tape.
Memories, memories of her.
That voice.
His legs moved before his mind could even comprehend what was happening. Tech and Crosshair narrowly avoided being collided into, stepping to the side as Rex pushed through. 
His lips twisted into a pained frown, his teeth gritted together like metal bars.
That robe.. That Jedi robe.
How didn't he notice it right away?
The look on Echo's face told him everything he needed to know, his hold easing on her as Rex reached his arms out, gripping her shoulders tightly.
"Y/n.." Her name spilled from his lips so easily, so softly, as though he was cursed, spellbound to only repeat her name, only those few simple syllables for the rest of eternity. It lingered on his tongue like the sweetest of syrups, leaving a fiery, burning trail in his throat, scalding at his heart like a molten fist, twisting, turning and tearing.
"Rex," A shiver fell down his spine, his breath hitching in his throat. How long had it been since he last heard it? Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, his gut twisting into a familiar knot, adrenaline spreading like fire through his veins. His heart pumped blood so quickly, so fiercely through his body, it was like a thousand fireworks had gone off in that instant. Many people have said his name, of course, but only her voice had ever evoked such strong emotions in him.
From the way she'd command his attention during meetings, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary, the way she'd whisper it when it was just the two of them, hiding in a faraway corner on one of the ships, or even the way it rolled off the tip of her tongue whilst-
It felt like the world around had been sucked into the background, leaving only the two of them, hearts beating wildly, minds melting over one another, even the cold night failing to gather their attention.
His hands, which had been previously on her shoulders, were now gently cradling her face, thumbs swishing back and forth in soft strokes. 
His whole focus was on her eyes- oh, those starry eyes.
How many times had he dreamed of them?
How many times had he cried at night, calling out for her in broken whispers and sobs?
Rex knew it was a few times too many, and yet at the same time, it wasn't enough.
A sob left his lips as he dropped the hood off her head, revealing the person behind the shadowy figure.
Something was different. Off.
Her face, although so familiar, was now so different. Bathed in aged lines, marks, grease and dirt, and worst of all.. A scar.
He hadn't noticed it under the shadow of her hood, but now, it was ever so prominent under the blaring moonlight.
A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence.
Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?
Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze.
"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, like a prayer, with so much delicacy, so much practice, as he brushed his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin.
He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day. For. So. Many. Years.
He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of pushing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, making love to her. 
For so many kriffing years.
She's alive.
"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left your lips, unknowingly acting as a trigger for his next movements.
His lips crashed against your own, his hands keeping your face steady, making sure you wouldn't slip away like the hundreds, no, thousands of dreams he's had before.
Your lips were as soft as he remembered, your touch featherlight and rough. Your hands were shaking, he noted. You were afraid. Afraid of him? You wouldn't be kissing back if that was the case.
Your scent overwhelmed him, it was that faint smell of peach shampoo that he loved so much, it was making his knees weak. Where did you manage to get that from? From the state of you, he was sure you were dying for a hot, bubbly bath. Maybe it was just his imagination playing up. Kissing you, it was addicting. He was like a starved man, pushing his lips against your own, his tongue slipping past to dance with yours in a sweet Waltz, full of grief and hope and longing and all the years wasted away by your separation, by his fear of your light having been snuffed out, like a flickering flame.
You were his light in the dark, his oasis in a never-ending dessert, his midsummer night's dream. You had that spark in you - the one that attracted individuals to you like moths to light. Your laugh, so easily evoked, and your kind smiles, so easily graced upon anyone and everyone, shining down like sunshine on a dewy, autumn morning. You were a breath of fresh air, but also a crackling, comforting fire on a cold winters night.
But he had lost you just so quickly, on that day. Never knowing, for years, if you'd be back. If you were alive.
Your touch slowly grew from soft, dissipated like cotton-candy and falling snowflakes, to eager, pleading for more as your fingers found solace in his slightly outgrown blonde hair, encasing his head in your embrace, pulling him closer as you kissed feverishly, afraid he will disappear like dandelion seeds on a spring day.
You couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, you couldn't smell anything but his scent, one that had creeped up on you and wrapped around you in an invisible embrace, the smell of freshly cut grass and smoky campfires entrapping you. You couldn't feel anything but him. His hands, always so much bigger than yours, had completely and utterly gotten control over your body, feeling and caressing your hair, gripping your chin and pulling you closer by your waist, his lips hot against your own, his breathing stuttering and yet so laboured as his teeth clashed against your own, his eyes scrunched shut - afraid you would disappear.
Being held in his arms was like a dream come true. You could spend an eternity with him, never losing your love and affection for the soldier standing before you. His warmth planted butterflies in your stomach, and his touch ignited them, making them burn wildly in your gut, scalding and yet patching over the old scars and wounds, gently embracing your heart in a healing bandage.
Only Rex could do such a thing. 
Only Rex could make your heart beat faster, only Rex could have adrenaline pumping through your veins just by a featherlight touch, or a sweet, candy-like, tooth-rotting whisper, or a longing, loving gaze of his golden irises and lush eyelashes.
So lost in each other, for so long, neither the two of you broke contact, until Hunter had to clear his throat awkwardly and speak up to make the two of you slowly, unwillingly, pull apart. 
Rex's forehead rested against yours, crows feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, his lips slightly agape as he tried to calm down the galloping of his heart. 
Slowly, eventually, his eyes opened again, the familiar warm colour of honey swirling around his pupils as he gazed into your eyes, a small, pained, and yet happy smile overtaking his features. His heart melted as that same smile reflected on your face, and tears brimmed in your eyes.
"Are you guys done yet?" Crosshair's voice called from a short distance, disgust and yet somehow a hint of endearment present in it.
"You lot go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," Rex tossed the words over his shoulder with little to no care, rolling his eyes at the loud scoff that came from Crosshair. It was quickly followed by an audible smack, an 'Ouch', and the sound of retreating footsteps.
Your shoulders shook as a breathy laugh escaped you, and as you shut your eyes once more, tears began to escape one by one, sliding down the expanse of your cheek. Rex wasted no time in bringing a hand to gently wipe away at your tears, his own tears tickling at his waterline. 
He missed you so damn much.
And finally, you were here, with him, crying and smiling in his arms.
His throat felt tight, as if someone was strangling him, daring him to say anything. His chest felt heavy, and he was sure if he was stood up any longer, he would simply collapse. 
His thumb caressed the soft, and yet ragged, skin on your cheek, the corners of his lips twisted into a semi-frown, his heart hurting, blood pumping loudly in his ears.
His lips opened and closed, at a loss for words, but his voice found a way to come through.
"You have n-no idea," His voice was just above a mere whisper, afraid if he were to speak any louder, you'd crumble away under his touch, or he'd wake up. 
His thumb moved to trace the outline of your scar, a loving look present in the golden pool of his irises.
"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.."
148 notes · View notes
gloomwitchwrites · 2 months
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A Clone's Future
CT-7567 Captain Rex x Female Reader
Content & Trigger Warnings: fluff, physical hurt/comfort, light angst, happy ending, domestic elements, brief suggestive themes, kiss, Anakin & Fives make an appearance
Word Count: 4.1k
Rex is a soldier of the Republic. A clone. And it is not worth daydreaming about what it would be like to have a family. But he does just that, not knowing that there is someone out in the galaxy waiting for him.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // fluffuary 2024 masterlist
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“I saw you eyeing that woman at Seventy Nines.”
Rex glances up from his datapad and flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. Fives grins down at Rex, arms crossed over his chest, one hip slightly popped.
“It was nothing,” mutters Rex, stepping around Fives’ comment.
The corner of Fives’ mouth quirks as he tries to hide a knowing smile. “Nothing? You were practically drooling,” laughs Fives, gently tossing his helmet on the bunk next to Rex’s. “Why didn’t you approach her?”
Rex blinks, confused. “Why would I?”
Fives shakes his head. “She was staring at you too, Captain. We all saw it.”
Rex looks back at the datapad, wanting to be done with this conversation. “And if I talked to her, what then?”
Fives shrugs. “You talk to a beautiful woman. Flirt a bit.” Fives leans in and Rex glances up from the datapad. “Slip into a dark corner for some—”
“That’s enough, Fives,” interjects Rex, his stomach twisting with understanding.
Fives pats Rex’s shoulder and then plops down next to Rex in the bunk. “This war is going to end. What do you plan to do after its over?”
What is he going to do? Rex hasn’t even thought about it. Hasn’t given the idea any life. Rex is a soldier of the Republic. Duty comes first. It always does. Thinking about the future when that future is entirely uncertain will only create heartache in the end.
“Haven’t thought about it,” answers Rex truthfully. Maybe Fives will drop this, and Rex can return to reading the latest war reports.
“Why not?” asks Fives, clearly not interested in moving on.
Rex’s grip on the sides of the datapad tightens.
Why not? Because fantasizing about the future in any capacity leaves Rex vulnerable and open to the realities of his situation. His family are his fellow clones. They are his brothers. All the family he needs is right here. Why would he ever need to consider anything beyond what is already in front of him?
“I don’t see the point,” answers Rex. “We don’t know when this war will end.” He pauses. “And some days we aren’t sure if we’ll even see tomorrow.”
Fives snorts. “That’s the whole reason why you should.”
“Fives—”
“We’re alive, Rex. We are people and we feel. We may serve the Republic, but we deserve to dream like the citizens we protect.” Fives reaches for his helmet and holds it reverently in his lap, the front side facing him. “In peacetime, we deserve a bit of happiness.”
Rex is silent a moment before he speaks. “Are you not happy now, Fives?”
Fives glances up and grins. “I’m happy, Rex. But happiness during peacetime is…different. I want to know what that looks like for us. Dreaming about it isn’t wrong.”
Rex didn’t say that it was wrong, but he’s not going to point that out to Fives.
Fives taps the edge of the helmet against his knee, sighing as he stands. “I’ll leave you to your boring war reports, Rex.” At the door, Fives turns, and grins mischievously. “Next time, if she’s there, you’re talking to her.”
The door to the room whooshes open, and Fives disappears into the hall. When it shuts, Rex is left in the lingering silence, the only sound that of the air filtration system. It hums softly, a dull buzz in the background.
Whenever his mind drifts toward the future—which is almost never—Rex rarely allows himself to linger. Maybe it’s because of his position, and that there are thousands counting on him to lead them. So many of his brothers look to him for guidance, even ones from other sections of GAR. He and Cody are always discussing strategies and offering advice.
Rex tries to live in the moment, to focus on what matters right now. But what Fives said is sinking in, lurking at the back of his mind, and drawing his attention away from the datapad in his hands.
This room is a small barracks area, one for captains and other ranked members of the Clone Army can go to rest. No one else is in here. It’s just him. They’re stationed on Coruscant, waiting to depart for a months long campaign. Rex and the rest of the 501st have some time to relax before returning to the battlefield.
Yes, they did go to 79’s last night. Yes, Rex may have had one too many strong drinks. And yes, Rex couldn’t stop staring at the woman giving him flirtatious glances all night.
Rex might be a clone but he’s still a man.
Locking the datapad, Rex sighs heavily, placing it on the edge of the bed. Tiredness sits in his bones, and Rex gives in to the exhaustion, bringing his legs onto the bunk and laying on his back. He stares at the bunk above him, at the smooth, plain metal, and tries his best to forget everything.
Tries is the key word.
Rex does try, but he cannot stop thinking about Fives and what he said.
He slips unexpectedly, falling into that space, considering the future.
The woman Rex pictures in his mind is faceless. He does not consider her features, or what her hair might be like. He does not consider whether this fictional woman is human or Twi’lek or any other species. Instead, Rex contemplates what he needs in someone else. Would she be soft and kind, someone to smooth out his sharp edges, to help him forget the realities of war, and linger in a calmness that soothes his soul? Or is she sharp witted, adventurous, willing to explore the galaxy and isn’t afraid of danger?
Or is she something else entirely?
Rex floats in the possibilities, of what this woman might be like and what she’d mean to him. Would General Skywalker want to meet her? Would he approve? Is it even allowed to him after the war ends? Will the clones have the right to enjoy the things the citizens of the Republic do?
These questions form in his head quickly but evaporate just as fast. Rex imagines warm arms around him, of knowing that there is always someone waiting for him, to share in all his failures and successes. It is a wonderful sensation, a calming sense of peace that ushers into his head and curls itself around him to take hold.
The physical isn’t entirely important to Rex, but he considers it anyway. He conjures up multiple images, giving the faceless woman hair then lekku then hair again, even picturing the woman he couldn’t stop glancing at while at 79’s. These thoughts bring the woman in his head to life a bit more, as if he’s stoking a fire, protecting the flame from extinguishing.
With his eyes closed, Rex imagines soft hands holding his, moving to his wrists and arms to eventually cradle his cheek. Rex sighs audibly, pretending that there is someone next to him in this bed, curled up against his side with their head on his chest.
But when he reaches across his chest to seek this someone out, his fingers only find empty air.
Rex’s eyelids slowly open, and a heaviness fills his chest. This is why Rex does not entertain thoughts of the future. This is why he lives in the present moment and focuses on the immediate needs of his soldiers and the Republic.
It’s self-indulgent. Unnecessary. That is what Rex tells himself as he turns on his side and tries to find some sleepful peace in the dark.
These streets are a maze, and Rex is utterly lost.
His personal communicator is crushed, and there are slavers on his trail. General Skywalker has no idea that Rex is being pursued. He has no idea that Rex took a blaster shot to the leg or that he’s limping along as he attempts to hide from his assailants.
This is supposed to be an undercover job, a way to figure out where an entire village full of Twi’leks were taken to after disappearing. While General Skywalker pretends to be a slaver interested in buying, Rex’s job is to find another way into where the Twi’leks are being held.
The whole thing fell apart. Crashed. Burnt up like an asteroid entering the atmosphere.
Behind him, his pursuers shout, and people scream. They’re closer than before, and Rex needs to find shelter. He needs to throw them off and return to General Skywalker.
He slips in a puddle, nearly stumbling into a pile of trash.
“Kriffing hell,” mutters Rex, staggering, placing one hand against the side of a building to balance himself.
His chest heaves and his leg is screaming, needing to rest.
Their pounding footsteps grow closer, and Rex takes off, dragging his leg along as he turns the corner. It’s shadowy here, and the street is long and narrow. There is nothing for him to hide in or around. The street is lined with residential buildings. There are entry doors and a few windows on the bottom level, but that won’t give him protection.
Desperation sinks in. Rex tries a few of the nearby doors, receiving no response.
There is a shout from the direction of where Rex just came from. “This way!”
Rex growls with frustration. He turns away from the door of one house, only to freeze when he notices the young woman in an open doorway.
“In here. Quickly.”
Rex glances back once and considers the alternative.
Kriff it, he thinks, entering the dimly lit home, the door whooshing shut behind him. Rex’s leg almost gives out beneath him, a sharp pain shooting up his side. He grunts, starts to double over, and his potential savior comes to him, placing their hands upon him gently.
Realizing that there is another person, Rex glances up quickly, the instinct to survive flaring white and hot and bright.
He finds…you.
And it is not what he expects. Because—no. Rex smothers the thought immediately.
There is a shout right outside the door, and you place a firm hand on Rex’s chest, easing him down toward the floor while holding a single finger up for silence. Rex doesn’t say a word, his gaze flicking between you and the door, and back again.
The voices soften, and then Rex doesn’t hear them at all.
When you sigh with relief, Rex relaxes a bit, knowing that he’s been spared some extra time.
But you? You are a mystery to him. Friend? Or foe?
“You’re hurt.” It’s not a question and Rex immediately likes the sound of your voice. “Heard the shouts,” you continue. “Saw you limping.”
Rex swallows. “Why are you helping me?”
Your smile is soft with a hint of mischievousness. “Do you think I like living amongst slavers?”
Rex shrugs. “Wasn’t really on my mind,” he admits.
“That’s fair,” you laugh. “They rarely treat the people who live here much different from the people they sell. I don’t mind disrupting things for them when I can.”
Friend, then.
Rex can work with that.
You glance down at his leg and frown. Your hand hovers just above the spot where the blaster bolt struck his thigh. Rex grimaces as the pain flares anew, like it knows he’s finally safe and demands immediate treatment.
“Can you stand on it?” you ask gently, placing one hand on Rex’s shoulder. Your palm is warm and a flood of comfort bursts inside him like a dam breaking.
What is it about you that’s different? Why does his body respond to you like he’s safe when his brain can’t seem to make the same connection?
Rex knows but stifles the thought again.
“Was running on it,” jokes Rex, trying to make light of that fact that the pain is a throbbing thing that won’t cease.
The smile you give him is so tooth-rottenly sweet that Rex feels heat warming his cheeks.
“Humor. That’s good.” You lean in a bit and Rex is immediately flustered by your closeness. “Means you’ll live.”
You present your hands, palms upward. They look so soft, so inviting, and Rex accepts. You help him to a fully seated position before sliding an arm around his waist to assist him to his feet. Rex drapes an arm over the back of your shoulders as the two of you hobble along.
You lead Rex into a small bedroom. The bed itself is unmade; the sheets tossed around like you’ve slipped out just to come to his rescue. For some reason, Rex pictures this happening, and then quickly dismisses it.
Easing onto the bed is hell, and Rex winces as you help him to his back. Thankfully, Rex isn’t wearing his armor, which will make tending to the wound much easier.
“May I take a look?”
Rex nods and you seat yourself next to him on the edge of the bed. When your hands touch his thigh, a shiver runs through him like an electrical current. You hum softly as you lightly press around the spot of the burn. Rex tries to stay calm, but in this prone position, Rex is only focused on your face.
He learns the line and curves, all your small tells, and the subtle way you tilt your head as you observe him. On Kamino—on any Republic vessel really—most of the medical care is run by droids, Kaminoans, and clones. It is mainly automated. Impersonal.
This isn’t.
You’re so close and delicate, taking so much care with him that Rex is void of words, only wanting you to keep giving him this attention. That memory, the one where he imagined what he wants creeps up unexpectedly, choking him.
Is this the feeling that Fives talked about? Is this the pull, the tug of what it means to try and find happiness outside of just duty to the Republic? Or is Rex only indulging himself while in the hands of a stranger?
“I have some bacta spray and bandages. I’ll be back in a moment.” When you stand, a momentary wave of panic grips Rex out of nowhere, stunning him.
What the kriffing hell is going on with him?
You’re back within a minute, placing the small box next to you as you return to your previous spot on the bed. Rex is instantly calm, relaxing as you consider where you want to begin.
“Could—” you pause. “It would be easier if the pants weren’t in the way. I can cut them or—”
“It’s fine,” replies Rex. “I can…remove them.”
Your eyes widen. “No. I didn’t mean—”
“Oh—”
“But if you want—”
“It’s—”
“I can cut it.”
“Yes,” nods Rex, relieved. “Yes.” Rex could start a fire with how hot his cheeks are.
With delicate fingers, you slowly cut away a perfect rectangle in his pants where the blaster burn is. Placing the cutters aside, you remove the bacta spray from the box.
“It’ll be cold.”
“I know,” answers Rex quickly.
Your eyebrows rise toward your hairline. “Is it normal for you to be hit by blaster fire?”
Kriff me.
“It’s a hazard of the job,” says Rex slowly.
Your lips part like you’re about to say something and then think better of it. “I won’t ask.” Your smile speaks to quiet amusement, and it feels like this one look is only for him. That this is something the two of you are sharing. That no one else is allowed to see inside.
The hiss of the bottle fills the room, and Rex momentarily flinches as the bacta spray hits his burn. Once done, you withdraw a gauze pad. With the other hand, you gently reach for Rex, lifting his own hand.
“Hold this for me,” you murmur, and the sound of your voice is so soft that Rex cannot resist your command.
Rex does as you ask, keeping the gauze pad pressed to the covered blaster burn. You unspool some bandages, and then begin wrapping his leg. You do not go over the pants. Instead, you slide your hand into the opening you created, guiding the end of the bandages underneath to the other side of his thigh.
It all feels too intimate, and Rex can’t help but linger on how close your hand is to something else.
“You can move your hand now.”
“Right,” mutters Rex, blinking quickly, trying to stare at the ceiling but failing completely.
Your subdued giggle draws his attention back to your face. Tying off the bandages, Rex mourns the loss of your hands when you draw away.
“All done.” You grin, and Rex melts. “I’ll grab you water and something to eat. We can talk after. Figure out a plan.”
We, as if it’s completely natural for you to help him, a stranger.
You bring him water first, and then go back to the small cooking unit, digging around for a pan to cook with while also grabbing ingredients. You shouldn’t do this for him, and yet you are. Rex’s military training tells him to be on guard, to be weary of you even if you’re showing him kindness. But that doesn’t sit right with him. Questioning your motivations taste wrong on his tongue, like he’s the bad person in this situation.
Watching you there next to the cooking unit, tending to him, it draws forth those memories again. Everything about this is too…domestic. Him reclining in bed as someone takes care of him for once is such a foreign thing. Odd. Almost forbidden.
He drifts, allows his mind to daydream of what a life like this could be like. With him, at rest for once, and someone close to him, wanting to do things for him just because they desire to do so.
But Rex doesn’t just think of someone. He thinks of you, and he sinks further and further into the daydream until the Republic, the war, and everything else in his life is a distant point in the galaxy.
But Rex needs to find General Skywalker. And you are a distraction. Healing is important but contacting Skywalker is even more urgent.
The meal you bring him is hot and so kriffing fresh that Rex nearly moans with pleasure. He could get used to this.
“Is it too intrusive to ask why you were running?” you ask, clasped hands resting in your lap. You’re sitting in the same spot on the edge of the bed, not opting to grab a chair or to sit anywhere else.
“I was poking around where I shouldn’t. Got caught.” Rex takes another bite and it’s better than the last.
“Are you alone? Or is there someone I can try to contact for you?” You shrug. “Don’t think it’s a good idea to turn you loose in the streets.”
“No,” laughs Rex. “Bad idea.” Your slightly embarrassed smile pleases him. While Rex ponders that, he also realizes he doesn’t know your name. “Here I am eating your food and sleeping in your bed. And I didn’t ask you your name.”
You give it without question and ask him the same. Rex considers whether or not he should tell you his real name or the fake one General Skywalker gave him for the job.
“It’s Rex,” he finally answers.
“Rex,” you say, as if rolling it around on your tongue, considering it and him, almost testing it out. Rex likes the way you say it. There is a soft sigh in the way you breathe his name. “Rex.”
“Just Rex.”
“Okay, Just Rex.”
He nearly chokes with laugher on the next bite of food. Once he clears his throat, Rex decides to be as honest as he can. “I’m traveling with someone. I need to find them.”
“I’ll go,” you say. “You shouldn’t leave.” Even though you’re staring at him, you still reach out and place a hand on his knee. You don’t break eye contact, and the earnestness is startling.
Rex gives you General Skywalker’s fake name and where you might find him. “It might be dangerous,” he says, trying to iterate the severity of the situation.
You squeeze his knee with a smile and stand, going to the closet to dig around. When you turn around, you hold up a large blaster. “I can handle myself.”
Using the strap, you secure it over your chest, the blaster hanging to the side. “I’ll be back. Don’t open the door for anyone.” You give him a little salute and Rex watches you leave through the front door.
The healing agent in the bacta spray and the need for rest creeps up. When the food is gone, Rex places the bowl to the side, slipping back into the daydream.
“Sleeping, Rex?”
Rex nearly launches himself off the bed. “General Skywalker,” he breathes, relief flooding his chest.
In the small doorway, you stand quietly, hands clasped tightly in front of your chest. You found him and even brought Skywalker with you.
He stops next to the side of the bed. “Glad you’re okay.”
Rex shrugs. “You would have come for me eventually.”
General Skywalker grins and nods his head. “That I would, Rex. I don’t like leaving my men behind. Especially you.” He glances at you standing in the doorway, and then turns back to Rex, one eyebrow arching in question. Rex nods, acknowledging Skywalker’s silent ask.
He exhales and approaches you. “Thank you. For taking care of my friend.” General Skywalker’s inclines his head in your direction.
“Of course. It’s nothing. Really.”
Skywalker holds out his hand and Rex clasps it. He drags Rex up to a seated position. “How’s the leg?”
“It’ll heal,” answers Rex. It’s already feeling better with the bacta spray on it.
“Can you walk?”
Rex stands. Wobbles. Remains upright. “I can manage, General.”
Skywalker glances at Rex’s torn pants. “We need to fix that.” He starts to remove his outer cloak and Rex shakes his head. “Don’t question it, Rex.”
Rex reluctantly grabs the cloak from General Skywalker and wraps it around himself, hiding the blaster burn. You step out of the way of the door to allow them exit. Rex’s glances at you and your lips turn upward.
At the door, Rex pauses, wanting to stay just a few minutes longer. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“Just avoid blaster bolts. If you can. For me.”
The back of Rex’s neck heats up and he exits the small house with a nod of his head. When the door whooshes shut, General Skywalker’s muted grin turns devilish.
“What?” asks Rex, flustered.
“You like her,” says Skywalker.
“I—I don’t.” Rex straightens his shoulders. “Why do you think that?”
General Skywalker taps the side of his head with one finger. “Jedi.”
“Sir. That explains nothing.”
“The feeling is mutual, Rex,” calls Skywalker over his shoulder as he starts walking down the street.
Rex nearly trips. “What’s mutual?” he asks, already knowing what his general means but not wanting to admit it to himself. General Skywalker gestures in the direction of your home. “No,” blurts Rex. “That’s not true.”
General Skywalker’s knowing grin is enough to silence him.
“You’ll see her again, Rex. I have a good feeling about it.”
“You’re doing a good thing, Rex. Even if you can’t always see it.” Your fingers slide over his jaw to gently cup his cheek. Rex leans into the touch, sighing heavily. “Saving one is an accomplishment, and you have rescued so many.”
After the Republic fell, and Rex and Ahsoka parted ways, he came to find you, only to bring you along with him on his journey to save his brothers’. You’re not on the frontlines, standing by his side in Imperial complexes, executing daring rescues. Rex wouldn’t allow that of you even if you insisted. You’re good with a blaster but you’re no soldier and losing you might shatter him.
Instead, you stay on Coruscant, awaiting each of his returns, ready to take care of, and look after, any clones Rex brings back with him. You never complain. Never waiver. You are his rock, a home for him to find a bit of peace from the unending injustices of the galaxy.
With your hand upon his cheek, you lean into him, resting your forehead against the side of his temple. “You’re a good man, Rex. I know that you know that.”
Rex’s fingers intertwine with yours. Bringing your hand up to his face, he gently kisses every knuckle and each finger. Sighing, you press lightly on his cheek, guiding Rex’s face in your direction. There is no brief pause or wanton hesitation. Rex knows where he stands with you, and his lips meet with your own in perfect satisfaction.
The future he dreamed of is here, with you, while rescuing his brothers.
The Empire is vast. It is powerful. But he is not alone. And that, the shared experience of companionship, is a hope in the face of a looming darkness.
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bloatedandalone04 · 3 months
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Dating Anakin Skywalker would include;
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Warnings: jealousy, descriptions of smut, smut, fluff, angst, kinks, swearing, more badly written headcanons
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
➪First things first; this man is jealous 99% of the time, let’s be real here.
➪Your relationship is forbidden, so Anakin isn’t able to show you off in all the ways he wants to.
➪All he’s allowed to do is train with you and sometimes is able to get away with pulling your back against his chest as he guides your saber down in a quick slash, but that is really it.
➪It’s nowhere near enough for him, but he puts up with it since he still gets to end most of his days with you in your secret shared room.
➪With that being said, even though he is a very jealous person, he is also very sweet.
➪When he wants to be.
➪But only with you.
➪You are the only person who gets to see his soft side.
➪You train together often since it’s really the only time you get to interact outside of your room, and he shamelessly admitted once that seeing you like that turns him on a lot.
➪Since you are a Jedi yourself, you and Anakin get to go on missions together and protect one another since you don’t really trust anyone else to do it.
➪It also allows for you to be around each other 24/7 without any suspicion being drawn to you.
➪And it usually allows Anakin to be all over you in the privacy of his ship/and or a separate room from the one at the temple.
➪Now....everyone says that he is a massive sub..not me.
➪I don’t buy it.
➪While he’s not a full blown dom (at least not until he turns to the dark side and then later becomes Vader), he’s also not a whiney sub who is just there for you to use.
➪He, of course, cares more about your pleasure than his own, but he also doesn’t act like he’s only a fucktoy for you.
➪Let’s be real, he is a lover, and therefore makes love to you in all the ways that leave you flustered and red in the face.
➪Now, that’s not to say he doesn’t have his full on dom moments.
➪When he gets super jealous, he’ll take you by the hand - and usually doesn’t care who sees, which is something he has to spend time later explaining - and take you back to his room to have his way with you.
➪He’ll say things like, “What were you doing with him, baby? Hm?” or “You think he can make you feel as good as I can? Does he really think that you’d let him?” while he’s railing you into an early grave.
➪With one hand gripping the headboard and the other covering your mouth so you’re not overheard, he is just completely letting out his jealousy and frustration of not being able to show you off like he wants to.
➪That being said, he’s not very quiet himself.
➪He usually has a swollen bottom lip by the time you’re both spent since he had to bite down on it hard to keep himself at least somewhat quiet.
➪His kinks are simple; marking, hair pulling and, you guessed it, choking.
➪He’s very careful with the way marks you, scattering love bites along your shoulders that are always covered by your robes, or on your inner thighs.
➪You’ve been with him for a long time, and saw the departure of his beloved braid, and when he decided to grow out his hair...oh boy.
➪His head had never been more sore.
➪You pull on it every time he takes you to bed, tugging the curls between your fingers with each thrust of his hips.
➪The headache he’d have afterwards was so worth it since he had been a bit nervous that you’d hate the new way he had begun styling his hair, and he was happy he couldn’t have been more wrong.
➪Choking....that should explain itself.
➪But the man loves wrapping his metal fingers gently around your throat, not nearly with enough pressure to block your airways but enough for you to feel it.
➪When he began to turn to the dark side, he definitely applied a bit more pressure, but still not enough to hurt you.
➪After all, you are the reason he lives and breathes, and he would never dream of causing you any type of harm.
➪His names for you are; sweet girl, angel, star and the occasional baby - but he usually saves that one for the bedroom.
➪You two eventually get married in the most lowkey wedding in the history of lowkey weddings, and exchange lightsabers as a way of showing your love.
➪Afterwards he took you away from Coruscant on a special mission - which was really just a fancy name for your honeymoon.
➪While it didn’t last long, Anakin did manage to get you pregnant, and that came with many problems.
➪Hiding it was a challenge, and hiding your son after giving birth was even harder, but you managed to do it for a while until you were able to get your own place in the city, where you and Anakin were able to raise him in peace and privacy.
➪Pick an AU; Anakin never turns to the dark side and gets to experience what it’s like to be a dad, or he does and you give up your son in order to protect him (and to keep him safe from his Sith father).
➪Either way, his love for you never falters and lives on through the memories you share together, whether or not he remains the loyal Jedi he was always meant to be.
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freesia-writes · 2 months
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Introduce Your OCs!
I wanna try to do something fun like this each Sunday (creativity permitting) and have been working on a one-shot, chatting, and watching the superbowl today so I didn't get it out earlier. BUT, if you like, I'd love to hear any or all of the following for your OCs! And feel free to link any fic they appear in!
If they were a SHOE, what kind of SHOE would they be?
What nature/scenery/setting most encapsulates who they are?
What's one thing you'd notice about them immediately and one thing you would only notice after a lot of time and depth?
Thanks for sharing (even after Sunday, haha!)
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