#The Obi is a bit concerned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honestlywtfisgoingon · 1 year ago

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GET A LITTLE LOUD. I DON’T MIND.

—WITH GOJO SATORU

REMEMBER: THE CLASSROOMS AT JUJUTSU HIGH AREN’T EXACTLY SOUNDPROOF…

content: teacher!gojo, teacher!reader, husband!gojo, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, semi-public sex, against the wall, over the desk, creampie, gagging, panty-theft, use of names slut and whore, not proofread

notes: i’m back this is crazyyyy!! i literally wrote every other day and thought about posting but i never finished anything and then all of a sudden it’s been years :O and im back w gojo brainrot. p.s. obi content is still coming but u just gotta be patient sorry i literally am so rusty

words: 3374

“toru! they’re gonna hear you, not me!” you worried your words wouldn’t get past the lewd sounds gojo was making as he rammed his dick in and out of your pussy. he did all this while holding you against the wall of the classroom— where anyone could come in.

“oh, i’m not worried about getting us caught” each of his words was let out between harsh moans, breath heavy as he kept his open mouth pressed against your neck. so he did hear your concern, it just made absolutely no difference to him. there wasn’t even a stutter in his pace, set hard and fast as soon as he slipped inside you only a bit ago.

“then why’re you covering my mouth?” one of his large hands smothered the entire bottom half of your face, but you managed to squeeze your words through the small sliver of space between gojos long fingers just like before.

“because i can actually stop myself from screaming. can you?” he was taunting you, sure, but the truth in it had you blushing. you were a little embarrassed of how easy it was to get a sound out of you. it was hard for you to keep everything in when you were naturally so vocal, and it only got harder the closer you were to coming. satoru always loved the moment he could see your conscious efforts to stay quiet become entirely abandoned in pleasure. once you couldn’t hold back, neither did he, fucking you as hard as he could, until he wrung out every little praise, and whimper, from your pretty throat. when you couldn’t help but shout his name for everyone to hear was his favorite, and he hated having to smother all the noises that always turned him into a horny teenager. he didn’t hold back his own grunts and groans though, letting them out freely in the classroom, which you didn’t think was very fair.

“that’s n-aah!” you couldn’t help but prove him right, a high-pitched moan jumping from your throat when he lifted you up, only to slam you back down where he was waiting to meet your hips a particularly eager thrust of his own.

“mhmm there it is.” he gave a smug little laugh that was always so familiar coming from him. satisfied that he had proven his point, he went back to making sure you kept quiet. instead of using his hands to muffle you this time, he smothered them with his own deep groan through a passionate kiss.

it didn’t help your case that your only response was an increasingly dazed look in your eyes. he clapped a large hand over your mouth again as you clung to him for dear life. your nails scraped at the back of his expensive dress shirt, feeling the muscles of his back react to the sensation. you raked them up to the softly shaved snow on his nape, pushing another groan out of him. only one of satoru’s hands were free, but he was doing the work for both of them. sometimes your husband was gentle and soft during sex— this was not one of those times. there was nothing sweet about how he groped your ass, gripping and kneading at the skin harshly. every so often one of his fingers brushed against your unoccupied hole while his palms spread your ass slightly.

gravity had you feeling like he was fucking his cock into you well past your pussy. you felt a pleasurable shock each time he hit that perfect spot, shooting up your body. how could it not feel that good with the way you met him with every bounce on his pretty cock. you both got closer and closer, but not quite there. you knew from the beginning that would be short, but you two couldn’t resist a quickie. honestly, you couldn’t resist any opportunity to fuck.

the truth is, he meant it when he said he really didn’t care about being caught from all the noise, but he also didn’t like that getting caught meant having to stop before he could make you finish.

even deeper than that desire, the one he didn’t want to admit just yet, was his possessive need. satoru wanted to keep those pretty little screams all to himself. he figured that he was the one helping you make them, he should be the one who decides that only he gets to hear them. people could still know just who was claiming you by his own pornographic professions of pleasure. Maybe he would let you cry out in the end to reward you, if only because he wanted to hear you say his name like you always did.

to get you there, he was going to have to go just a little harder to push you over the edge. chasing both of your highs, he used all that famous speed of his to switch positions and bend you over the desk. it all happened so fast that even if he slipped out, you didn’t feel it.

the new angle already allowed him to go deeper, but it also allowed you to arch your back. satoru didn’t moan, he whined at the sight. he always loved seeing just how far you’d bend for him— literally. it made his cock throb inside of you, the blood pulsing through the veins along his shaft that were making each drag against your walls take you closer to heaven.

still muting you but no longer having to hold you up, he used a free hand to bully your clit as well as your hole. there was so much sap dripping down from your pussy, making the noise that rang out everytime your ass and his hips met even more vulgar. he easily gathered up some of the wet mix of both your juice and his precum on two of his fingers removing his hand from your mouth only to shove his fingers in instead.

“mmm fuck baby, taste yourself. taste us.” you gagged on them, the choking sound canceling out the much louder whines you were about to make.

he desperately tore off his blindfold, shoving it in your mouth as a gag and telling you to play with your pussy. even before his hand could grip your hips though, you were already meeting his thrusts.

he gripped your hips with his large hands, squeezing your body beneath him, “oh shit. yeah yeah please. keep slamming that ass back on me princess. please please please.” he begged as if he was at your mercy, even though his inescapable grip was the only thing keeping you from falling limp. he grit his teeth, feeling you tighten around him. you went from throbbing to squeezing him like a vice as your orgasm suddenly shocked through you. you shook, your knees knocking a bit as you used your last bit of strength to push back on him, feeling as much of his cock as you could while you creamed on it. your eyes rolled back almost like they were compensating for the screams you couldn’t let out.

as sensitive as you were, satoru wasn’t done yet.

“so so close, hold out princess.”

the gag slipped from your slacked jaw, but you bit your lip to stop any noise that came from the sensitivity. you nodded and satoru petted your head and smiled. with just your lip to stop you from making noise and you so close to coming, satoru didn’t give a shit about volume anymore. you were about to let out some of the sluttiest moans like you always do when you come, and he wasn’t gonna miss them for anyone. “You know what? get a little loud. i don’t mind,” just before ramming in so hard that he knocked over the desk. the last of your moans morphed into a panicked scream, mingled with the crash and bang of the desk falling, along with all the objects on it. you were nearly one of those things if satoru hadn’t tightly gripped your hips and your neck, keeping you fused together. so much was happening, but he made sure that you were right where you needed to be for him to pour all his cum inside you. it seemed that after everything, your voice couldn’t handle much more than a little whimper when you felt all his hot, thick cum filling you up. you always tightened your legs out of instinct to hold it all in, and it also helped you keep standing as he shuddered, letting a long stream of broken groans and eventually whimpers just by your ear. he wanted so badly to take his time watching his cum drip out of your hole just to gather every drop not inside you on his fingers and shove it back in. you always begged for his cum huh? he’d be a bad husband if he didn’t give you all of it.

shit. his mind cleared he assessed the damage less than a moment after. even with all this clutter on the floor, at least he didn’t add his cum to it he thought. still, the biggest mess was between your legs, and he couldn’t help but feel a little proud about the two of you.

he immediately picked you up like a ragdoll and sat you down on a desk. you still felt your tongue threaten to loll out but you threw a leg over his shoulder out of instinct, giving him access between your legs to clean up the slick that covered your sex and thighs with his blindfold. it was already covered in spit anyway.

“fuck. someone definitely heard that” he murmured during his rushed clean up.

“who’s fault now huh—“ you were cut off by satoru’s reaction to hearing approaching steps he yanked you forward to button your shirt as you realized the person was running, very, very fast. you were both so relieved that you still had your skirt and he still had his pants on, leaving you one less thing to trip over. while he fumbled with your clothes you zipped up his pants and buckled his belt. gojo had just finished the very important task of checking to make sure no cum was leaking past your panties before yuuji came bursting through the door. you immediately hopped off the desk and smoothed down your hair and your skirt, while gojo tried to pass off his ruffled hair by acting like he’d been running his hand through it.

“hey, are you guys ok? we thought we heard something crash.” yuuji eyes darted to the desk on the floor, completely missing the raging blush on gojos face and the slight wobble in your knees. he opened his mouth to ask only to be shoved through the door when nobara came in hot behind him.

“hey! i thought we were all gonna check it out!” she scolded him with her whines.

“not my fault you’re slow!” he defended.

finally megumi strolled in, looking as nonchalant about the whole thing as he could be, in great contrast to his best friends.

“students!” you turned to satoru as he addressed them enthusiastically, “your teachers were just training and made a bit of a mess.” wow. that excuse just…well it sucks. you almost wanted to roll your eyes but had to do a double take. where did he get his glasses from? when did he put them on? leave it to gojo to keep his accessories on hand. it did help distract from how puffy and pink his lips were as he spoke.

“you were fighting in here?” yuuji tilted his head in question. combined with his big brown eyes, his actions had him looking like a puppy.

“it was impromptu.” you bolstered gojos excuse while trying not to cringe at how bad it was to begin with.

“ooh were you like couple fighting?” nobara jumped in with her question. it seemed she was way too intrigued by the prospect of drama to question how much sense it actually made, and you had absolutely no objections to that right now.

“wait things can get that heated to where you battle??” oh yuuji. he asked as if nobara knew all there was to know about the subject.

“no, no!” you waved your hands frantically, only to be completely tuned out once the two kids entered the mode of conspiracy. they talked lowly but didn’t whisper, as if you couldn’t hear them literally talking about you five feet away.

“i mean they totally look like they got into it.” nobaras chin was between her thumb and pointer finger while her eyes narrowed in inspection, yuuji mimicking her actions. after a second of tapping her cheek, she pointed directly at her sensei, making you and satoru almost jump a little bit. wow you had to get a hold of yourself. “no offense, but you should probably fix your hair.” nobara stated bluntly. gojo pouted. you thought he was adorable but also made a note to compliment his hair later.

megumi had been silent, not even really looking at you or the mess. his eyes just wandered the walls until it seemed like something clicked in his braim. his eyes darted back and forth between you and gojo. suddenly rolling his eyes letting out an exasperated “oh my god,” megumi just dragged a hand over his eyes and his face. he wasted no time turning around and walking away, seeming absolutely done with you two.

he caught nobaras curiosity and had her chasing him out the door and down the hall where you could hear her calling out “hey! hey, fushiguro come back!”

“hey wait what’s he talking about.” yuuji looked increasingly confused as he followed suit.

you almost slumped in relief you were so tired and you had to put effort into standing straight and not just falling into gojo. he looked at your relieved and tired face with a goofy smile. that smile. it disappeared as soon as you started slapping his arm.

“sa-to-ru!” a slap accompanied each syllable. “that was the worst excuse ever! there’s no way they’re not going to figure it out!” your hands kept slapping his bicep, but were just as quick to wrap around it right after. you pressed your cheek against the expensive cotton sleeve as you hugged his arm tightly and pouted just like he did as you looked up.

“c’mon let’s be real here, megumi would rather die than discuss our sex life with his friends. plus, we’re married, princess. i’m pretty sure a husband fucking his wife is like, the least surprising thing ever.” he rolled his eyes as he turned to wrap his arms around your waist, your hands resting on his chest.

“what about itadori? i’d hate for that kid to lose his innocence,”

“innocent? that kid is a self-proclaimed ass man.” taking advantage of the subject, one of satorus own hands came to rest on your ass. you quirked a brow but he pretended not to see your face and just continued, “i also saw a pinup poster in his room,”

“wait, really?” you stopped and shook your head a bit, like it would help you refocus on what you remembered you were talking about, “oh but still, toru, i know they know we have sex but—“

“but what?” he sighed, waiting for your most definitely poor reasoning.

“i don’t know, just” you started blushing and he knew that little embarrassed look. he knew you always liked to play the good girl, to hold on to your pride. if it didn’t make for such a fun game he’d say it’s a total waste of time knowing, without fail, he’d have you on his leash in minutes (literally or metaphorically depending on what your setting allowed). a single long finger tilted your chin up, his face suddenly so close to yours.

“oh you’re not worried about them finding out about my wife being fucked, you're worried about them finding out that she likes to be fucked like a slut.” such crude words came out in delicate breaths that fanned across your face.

“no!” your voice died out instantly when he pulled you a little closer again, your noses now touching instead of just your breath.

“hard enough for the desk to fall and loud enough to scream.” you had had sex minutes ago, and even worse, had almost gotten caught, and yet he was saying and doing everything to make your pussy throb all over again. you were always so easy for him to play with, never offering any real objections despite your attitude. “yeah? you don’t want them to know how desperate you are, how you just couldn’t keep your legs closed until we got home? because that’s all you want, isn’t it.” he whispered in your ear, your eyes fluttering back with chills. the sensation of him placing kisses on your neck brought you back to your senses once again.

“please, as if you didn’t run around the whole school just to say you needed ‘help’”

“and you’re suchhhh a good little helper for me, baby,”, he went to kiss you on the mouth you returned it, but as soon as he deepened it, you pushed him away and he had the audacity to look hurt. you were getting whiplash from having to repeatedly pull yourself together just to fall right into his hands again.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. i swear we almost got caught there’s no way we can go another round. you’re insatiable gojo satoru.”

“mhmm, we both are, mrs. gojo satoru.” he tapped your nose before lowering his voice once again. “so, how bout i take these panties, and we go home when my cum is about to leak past your skirt, huh?”

“fine. deal.” you huffed, but spread your legs quickly. he went on one knee to pull your panties down, enjoying the picture of your pussy and leaving a kiss on your clit which made you hiss, before he had the fabric dropping to your ankles. you stepped out of them and he swiftly pocketed them.

“i love my wifey so much!” he stood up and kissed you with a cute smile as if he hadn’t just shove your panties down his pants.

“that’s good because love you too toru,” you said softly, hands clasped behind your back and rocking back and forth on your heels with a lovesick look like a schoolgirl. honestly, he never stopped making you feel like one.

“aww so sweet.” he tucked a hair behind your hair, sending butterflies past your stomach and to your whole body, but you just knew that wasn’t all. “who woulda thought you were such a whore?” ah, theres your satoru.

“only for you” you patted his cheek jokingly, but he just groaned with his whole body. he had to do things in the most dramatic way possible of course.

“ugh. baby, you can’t just say things like that and then—“

you pushed him off, leaving him, arms still stretched out reaching for you, even after you walked out the door. he looked at the clock before deciding it was max 30 minutes before you asked to go home. you came back in 10.

— bonus:

“well i mean the honeymoon stage is like that, although it’s annoying and gross.” nobara shrugged while still stirring her boba.

“they’ve been married for 7 years. dated for 10.” megumi responded quietly, nobara consequently spewing her drink.

“no way! they act all starry-eyed and all that stuff still.” yuujis own eyes opened wider in surprise

“yeah that’s what i thought too!” it helped nobara that even yuuji had the same idea too. “ugh now that i know they’re just like that it’s kinda gross.”

“wait megumi if they’ve dated for 10 years, you lived with both of them at the same time, right?” both of megumis friends leaned closer to him, eager to hear where yuujis question went, but he didn't even look at them.

“yeah what about it,” he said as nonchalantly as ever. this was a topic he had always made a point never to dwell on.

“so you had to have heard—“

“okay, that’s enough. we’re never talking about this again.” ideas like yuujis were the exact reason why megumi refused to feel his interest. ideas like yuujis made him want to die from remembering just how many times he accidentally heard the two of you…daily.

“yeah gross, good idea.”

“um yeah, you’re right, don’t answer that actually.”

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phoenixyfriend · 13 days ago

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Gather 'round, all ye fuckers. It's time for another AU, let's go.

Time-travel. Obi-Wan from post-RotS (could be early in the Empire, could be as late as ESB, doesn't quite matter) wakes up in the past, as a 12yo, on that fateful trip to join the Agricorp.

He has a few short minutes to think it over, and then scams his way out and towards nearby Mandalore to find Satine.

(Her ghost was hanging out with Qui-Gon's when he was sent back in time, tethered by the Darksaber, and so Obi-Wan is pretty sure she's also somehow in the past?)

(If Qui-Gon's interested in helping, he can track Obi-Wan down. No need to make things easy for him.)

tbf even if he goes back to the Jedi when Qui-Gon comes to fetch him, he needs to plot and scheme with Satine first. Because reasons.

@threebea: Qui-Gon: we were literally five minutes from meeting Obi-Wan: sounds like a you problem Qui-Gon is not having a good mental health day. Like yes he's older and wiser but still.

Satine and Obi-Wan have been busy getting in the way of the Galidraan situation (the Duke is out of his mind with worry because his daughter and heir randomly disappeared in the night.) Obi-Wan figured Qui-Gon could handle Xanatos on his own for a bit

Qui-Gon, suspicious: Have you been kissing? You're twelve. Obi-Wan: On the cheek, sure. Satine: He looks a third of my actual age at death. I look a fifth of his. We are neither of us comfortable with more. Obi-Wan: Also I've been told I need to worry about cooties.

The three of them speed run Jedi apprentice problems since they can't just leave the problems they need to fix unsolved, but way easier when you know who and what the solution is. Like yes they could get someone at the temple to catch Xanatos, but a twelve year old smacking him in the face and getting him in a headlock, and then later saying Xanatos tripped on his cape and knocked himself out oh dear. Also Bruck lives and is weirded out with how Obi-Wan gives him old man advice later.

They're also eager to get to the Real Problems Of Deadly Sith. They can't just SKIP the problems, but man. They sure are hitting fast forward.

Bruck definitely tries to goad Obi-Wan about his "secret girlfriend" that is in no way a secret.

Everyone knows about Obi-Wan having a "pen pal" that he has stated on more than one occasion that he'd have gladly married if not for the tragedy of their stations.

"Padawan Kenobi, you are twelve." "And yet, I shall live my life yearning for the lady who owns my heart, star-crossed as we are."

There's at least one meeting in those early years where Jango is present at an interaction and is abruptly concerned that he's going to have to figure out how to prevent a teen pregnancy without making everything weird. Does he just throw condoms at them? He doesn't know what size they need. Maybe tell their parents? He should tell the parents. He is not qualified to cockblock the 14yos.

#star wars #obitine #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #qui gon jinn #time travel #duke kryze #bruck chun #jango fett #sw legends #phoenix talks

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micahwrites16 · 5 months ago

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Not Even the Force - Anakin Skywalker

TW: smut!

3.3k words

One thing about Anakin Skywalker is that he is possibly the most protective person you will ever meet.

If there were even the slightest bit of danger, he would lock you up if he could.

It's not necessarily out of possessiveness or over-protectiveness, but more fear of losing someone he loves. After his mother died, a part of him broke and no matter how hard you can try to love it better, you can't, and that's something you have had to come to terms with for a while now.

Just like his unwavering defensiveness, the wish that you could take all his worries away doesn't leave. All you can do is love him, and hope that it is enough.

Although you are just about as good with a gun as Anakin is with a lightsaber, you somehow end up stuck inside his ship every time he goes off on a mission. And of course that isn't enough, he has to leave Artoo with you just in case. So, you spend hours on end rambling to Artoo and listening to his sassy robotic replies, trying not to think about what Anakin is doing.

If either of you have one thing in common, it's worrying about the other.

As the only person out of you, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka who knows the slightest bit about medicine, you're pretty much always dragged along. You really wouldn't mind if they would allow you to do something, anything, but no. You're not a Jedi, so apparently the only thing you can do is wrap injuries and check bruises.

Even if you couldn't fight or use the force like them, you were still part of their team and they treated you like it.

Currently, you're on Hoth, a planet of complete coldness and ice. You don't know the complete specifics of the mission yet, you just came to be with Anakin like always. It made you feel better that if he were to ever be hurt you could help him, even if you had to go through up to hours of boredom to do it.

You spin around as you hear the ship's door open, Artoo beeping and moving in front of you. You slowly back up and pull out your gun. Your finger moves to the trigger, ready to fire at whatever creature or droid or sith that might pop out. The door to the cockpit opens and right as you are about to fire, the gun is propelled out of your hands, hitting the wall of the ship with a loud clunk.

"Just me, my love," a deep voice calls, a shaky breath finally leaving your lips as you realize who it is. You relax as you see familiar waves of dark honey and the Jedi robe that you have stripped him of countless times before.

"Maker, Anakin!" Your breaths come out as soft pants as your heart calms down. "You can't just scare Artoo like that! Look at him, practically shaking." Both of you look at Artoo, and if a droid could roll its eyes that's what he would be doing right now. He beeps quietly, the sound almost annoyed as he rolls away from us. Anakin chuckles, closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you softly.

"I'm sorry for scaring Artoo, that was very inconsiderate of me."

"Yes, very," you mumble quietly as you melt against his lips. Damn him and his perfectness. He brushes hair behind your ear as you pull away, the soft gesture warming your heart. As you finally get a clear view of his face, you gasp when you see a large gash stretch from his hairline to the middle of his cheek, mirroring the scar on the other side of his face. The skin around the cut is irritated and red, blood dripping from the laceration.

Anakin sees the intense worry in your eyes and quickly says, "It's okay, just a small cut. I can clean it up after we get off this dreadful planet." He kisses your forehead as he sits down in the pilot seat, turning the ship on.

"Wait- Anakin, it might need stitches," you follow him, him brushing off your concern as he lifts the ship off the ground. You let out a noise of protest, but quickly sit in the seat next to him, not wanting to be standing as he takes off.

"It can wait a few minutes, y/n."

You roll your eyes at his negligence, Anakin buckling you in with the force and blasting into space.

Once he sets the ship into autopilot you unbuckle and grab supplies to clean his wound, along with bandages and a needle and thread. You walk back to Anakin and straddle his hips, facing him so you can get a good look at his injury. He automatically rests his hands on your hips, shifting you closer to his chest.

"What happened?" You ask as you start cleaning the blood with a damp towel, being cautious not to hurt him further.

"Wampa. It got lucky. I was distracted," His eyebrows furrow slightly and you smile softly, the expression on his face almost looking like a pout. Sometimes you have no idea how this man is the most powerful Jedi in existence.

"Hm, okay. Well, it doesn't look like you'll need stitches, but it might leave a scar for a little while." He nods slightly and you grab something to clean his cut, pouring it on the cloth. "This might sting a bit," you warn as you press along his cheek. The only signs of his pain are his hands squeezing just the slightest bit harder on your hips.

As you continue cleaning his gash, you feel his eyes burn into your skin. His hard gaze used to make you uncomfortable, the intensity of it making you itch and want to crawl inside yourself. It was always like he was staring into your soul, taking every mark on your face to memory. Over time you got used to it, though, and learned to let him do what he wanted. You used to always hide from him, digging your face into the crook of his neck so he couldn't see. He would always pull you back and kiss your jaw, reassuring you with whispers of how beautiful you were. How he would stare at you all day if you would let him, just because he was so mesmerized by you. Then he would make love to you, once again taking every inch of your skin to memory and showing how much he appreciated you with every kiss and caress of his fingers.

Through your concentration, you don’t notice the sudden shift in Anakin, how his eyes gloss over and his hands tighten on your hips even further. You don’t notice how he seemed to have gotten lost in his mind, something in his head swirling darkly.

You finish and bandage his cut, giving it a soft kiss and putting your supplies back in your med kit. "All better," you smile and move to get off his lap, but instead you get pulled back into his chest, Anakin's face digging into the crook of your neck and his arms wrapping around your waist.

His hold is tight, almost desperate. A different kind of worry and surprise hits you at his sudden movement, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Ani?" Your eyebrows furrow, your fingers holding onto the ends of his hair. "Hey, talk to me," you say softly, his arms securing you tighter against him. You feel a shaky breath hit your shoulder, dread curling in your gut as the possibilities of what could've happened swirl in your mind.

"Y/n..." Anakin murmurs against you, his eyelashes fluttering softly against your skin and his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. You can practically see dark swirls twisting around his body, emanating the emotion pouring through him. You always felt like you could understand and feel him on a level that's deeper than you should, especially in times when something is bothering him. And when something's truly bothering Anakin, it's deep and dark and it's almost as if you can feel it infecting his mind and blood. You have absolutely no idea what happened or what changed in the past five minutes, but you can almost feel him sinking into darkness.

It's so unbelievably scary.

"Anakin. Look at me, please," you plead in the gentlest voice you can manage. You tilt his head up, your eyes finding his.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," Anakin murmurs, avoiding your gaze.

"Nothing's wrong with you." You search for words that could get him to open up to you, but you come up empty. Instead, you kiss his jaw and keep your gaze locked on him. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I..." His eyebrows furrow again, a look of genuine confusion crossing his face. He shakes his head like he's forcing something out of it. "I felt something."

"Felt what?"

"I don't know," Anakin murmurs, almost like he's lost in his head. "It felt so real. It felt like a memory, but I didn't see anything. I just... you..." You notice his eyes start shimmering and you rub your thumb back and forth on his cheek, waiting patiently for him to continue talking. "It was like grief. Like I was feeling grief for something that hadn't happened yet. Like the nightmares I had of my mother, except a feeling."

"Grief?"

"Yes. I just knew not to let you leave. Not... not now," Anakin mumbles, his face falling back into the crook of your neck. You feel a wetness hit your skin, a piece of your heart cracking for him. If Anakin's really getting a premonition like what he got with his mother, then it's definitely not good.

"I'm not leaving. I never will," you whisper, hugging him even tighter than before. "I'm right here." You feel him sigh and his lips against your shoulder, his teeth nipping and sucking softly at the sensitive skin as his tears continue to drop onto you.

"Need... need to feel you," Anakin pleads quietly, his hands roaming up and down your back, along your hips, and up to cup your neck as he places kisses on your throat. "Need to know you're here."

"Ani..." You sigh as his lips find the sensitive spot under your ear. And although you want him just as he wants you right now, you're not sure this is the best idea. You can tell something serious just bothered him, and brushing it off with sex might not be the right thing.

"Please, y/n." His hips roll up to yours gently, a small gasp leaving your lips as you feel his growing hardness against your softness. "Need to feel all of you."

You can feel the lust radiating off of him with every brush of his lips and dominating grab of his hands, but more than that you feel his yearning and desperation for not specifically intimacy, but closeness. You decide you'd do whatever it takes to make him feel better.

You try not to dwell on the fact that it seems like it was you who he was grieving.

You pull his lips to yours, rolling your hips against his and pulling moans out of both of you. His lips are conquering and the swipe of his tongue against yours is needy, begging silently for something that you would give him over and over again if that's what he needed. His hips rut up into yours, causing your fingers in his hair to tighten and the boiling lava in your stomach to burn brighter.

Anakin's hands pull up the fabric of your shirt, his metal hand causing you to gasp at the coldness as it roams across your uncovered skin. "Now. Need to fuck you now, y/n," he begs against your lips, his fingers hooking on your pants, quickly lifting you up and pulling them down.

His dirty words stopped surprising you long ago. Now, all they do is fill you with an indescribable heat.

You quickly find the belt on his Jedi robe and take it off, throwing it on the floor beside where he carelessly threw your pants. His flesh hand presses against your clit through your panties, causing you to moan and buck your hips into his hand.

"Already so wet for me, baby. So fucking perfect," he mumbles as he sucks on your jaw and pulls his boxers down, his aching cock springing up and hitting his abdomen. You slam your lips against his again, him grunting sharply as you swipe your thumb over his tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum leaking desperately from him.

"So pretty," you murmur absentmindedly as you take in the sight of his rock-solid cock standing proudly, the tip slightly flushed and begging to be touched. You watch as his cheeks bloom into a dark red, his head falling onto your shoulder once again.

"Baby..." He sighs as his dick twitches, desire and the need to be connected to you overwhelming every one of his thoughts. He presses his thumb against your clit again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your veins. He hooks his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and brushing his cock against your naked core, causing both of you to shudder. "Are you going to ride me, my love? Going to take me like the good girl I know you are?"

"Mhm," you whimper, your voice filled with lust as you position yourself above his cock, sinking down just so his tip is inside of you. Anakin grunts, his head head falling back against the seat. You slowly slide down, taking him in inch by inch until he's buried all the way inside of you, your walls stretching pleasurably at the intrusion.

"Oh fuck," he groans loudly, holding on to your hips tightly, no doubt leaving marks. "Your pussy was made for me, y/n. Taking me so well."

You moan, rocking your hips against his and reuniting your lips. Your walls clench at his words, causing another grumble to fall from his lips and in turn make your arousal grow at the sound. He guides you up and down his cock slowly, your pussy squeezing around him like a vice as he fucks into you, hitting that spot that only he knows.

Even after the many, many times before that you have been connected like this, you never get used to the size of him. Of being absolutely full, almost feeling like you could explode because of pleasure and completeness. And even though lust is overwhelming both of you, the thing both of you are enjoying the most is being so close to each other. Loving someone so deeply sometimes isn't enough, you have to be one with the other to achieve the level of intimacy you both long for.

"Anakin," you cry out, your fingers desperately gripping onto the ends of his hair as he fucks abandonedly into you.

"I know, I know, y/n. Doing so- so well for me," he praises softly, placing encouraging and loving kisses on any part of your skin he can reach. Your forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, neck. He would devour you whole if he could. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he puts all his energy into making you feel good, wanting nothing more than to replace every one of your senses with pleasure. With him.

You latch your mouth onto his throat, feeling his Adam's apple bob beneath your lips. Fire burns beneath your skin, every pulse of your heart meeting his. His groans and your whimpers bounce off the walls of the cockpit, the dirty, wet sound of you connecting causing a deeper flush to paint your skin.

"Look at you, so unbelievably beautiful on top of me," Anakin mumbles as his cock slams into that deliciously pleasurable spot inside of you over and over again. He reaches his thumb in between you, rubbing in small circles over your clit and making you cry out sharply. Your insides tighten and tighten, your toes beginning to curl as the stars are no longer just in space but behind your eyelids. He speeds up to a bruising pace, your legs faltering as you no longer have the strength to continue rocking your hips. Sweat makes your hair stick to your forehead, your throat going raw with the amount of strangled noises that he's pulling out of you.

Anakin could get drunk off the sound of you lost in pleasure. Every noise and slap of his skin against yours causes his heart to beat frantically and desire to flare inside of him painfully. You could stab him in the heart and he would thank you just for even touching him at all, and the fact that he gets to have you in this way never fully seems real. The way your perfect pussy sucks him in like it's trying to swallow him whole, how it seems like you burn for him just as much as he burns for you, makes everything in him roar with love and lust and every feeling you could ever feel for someone. Every thrust of his hips into yours makes him feel alive, almost like he's finally whole after a lifetime of missing something. Of missing you.

Your head falls forward onto Anakin's shoulder, his hand cradling your head and rubbing your scalp soothingly, holding you through the intense waves of pleasure the both of you are experiencing. His hips stutter as you whimper, your release coming closer and closer.

"Gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna let me feel you?"

"Yes," you whine, your eyes squeezing shut. His head rolls back again, his mouth opening and letting out the most beautiful groan as his cock swells inside of you. His hips twitch again, letting you know he's exactly where you are. "Wanna- wanna come with you, Ani."

"I know, baby. I'm right- right there with you," Anakin gasps, bucking upwards into you, his breathing ragged and his face flushed as he staggers towards blissful oblivion. You cry out Anakin's name loudly, your walls fluttering around him as your core throbs painfully.

And all it takes is one more unsteady, forceful thrust of Anakin's hips for both of you to fly off the edge.

Both of your bodies tremble and quiver with the intense force of your release, your noises mixing into a song of ecstasy and desire. Anakin spills himself inside of you, filling you to the point where thinking is no longer possible. The only thing you can feel is Anakin. Pleasure floods through your veins, every limb in your body going still as you ride out your release.

"F-fuck, y/n. There you go baby," he praises encouragingly as you continue to cry out. You hold onto Anakin tightly until your senses start returning and the white light fades from behind your eyes. You press your lips to his again, this time softly and as an act of complete love. He murmurs gentle "I love you's," into your ear as you both come down, both of your hearts swelling as you clutch onto each other for dear life.

"Thank you," he whispers as he kisses your forehead, rubbing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs.

"For what?

"I just... needed to have you. To know you're here, with me." Anakin's eyes fall shut like he's trying to rid something from his mind, and you press your puffy lips against his again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Don't think about it, okay?" You search his eyes as they open again, pulling his hand to rest over your heart. "Do you feel that? I'm here. Right here, with you. I'm not leaving. I won't let anything take me from you, Anakin. You know that, right?"

His eyes lock on to where his hand is feeling your heartbeat, his eyebrows pulling together softly. His eyes meet yours again, the worry in his face fading.

And at that moment Anakin knew that nothing could take you from him, not fate, not force. You wouldn't let it, and Anakin would die a thousand deaths before he let it. You were his, and he was yours, and if the force was going to take you from him, they would rip it from his cold, dead, "chosen” hands.

"I know."

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miss-musings · 6 months ago

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"I Say We Take Her With Us": How TCW's Waxer & Boil Prefigure Hunter & Crosshair in "The Bad Batch" Series

A running joke in the TCW/TBB fandom is that all the clones have Dad Genes™️. Outside of Jango Fett himself, the first indication we have is Waxer and Boil's dynamic with Numa in "The Clone Wars" Episode 1.20 "Innocents of Ryloth."

In revisiting the episode recently, it struck me how much Waxer and Boil's initial reactions to Numa and their eventual bond with her feels like a template for Hunter and Crosshair's dynamic with Omega in "The Bad Batch" series.

Like Hunter, Waxer bonds with Numa very quickly and takes more initiative when it comes to her safety. He's also more comfortable with physical affection -- patting her head, booping her nose, putting a hand on her shoulder, etc.

Like Crosshair, Boil argues to leave Numa behind when they first encounter her and isn't as concerned about her well-being. He does eventually take a liking to her, promising to keep her safe. Unlike Waxer, Boil isn't physically affectionate. He doesn't initiate any shoulder touches, etc., and he seems caught off-guard when Numa does.

In the end, both clones form a deep bond with their "little sister," even if their dynamics with Numa play out differently. Just so, Hunter and Crosshair both form a deep bond with Omega, although their dynamics with her play out very differently thanks to a variety of factors.

While this is the gist of it, let's take a look at Waxer and Boil as characters, including their interactions with Numa in TCW 1.20 "Innocents of Ryloth".

(NOTE: If you've already seen the episode and have a good understanding of the plot and characters, I recommend you jump down the "Prefiguring Hunter & Crosshair" section.)

Waxer & Boil in "Innocents of Ryloth"

Character Introductions

Even before they meet Numa, we get a pretty good idea of who Waxer and Boil are as individuals.

As their gunship flies toward Ryloth's surface, Obi-Wan and Cody tell the clone troopers to keep an eye out for the locals and avoid damaging their settlements.

Boil, who was carrying heavy artillery, puts it down after Cody tells them they can't use it. He then remarks to Waxer:

Boil: If we're here to free the tail-heads, the least they could do is get out of our way.

Already, we see that Boil has a shoot-em-up kind of attitude. He wants to go in guns blazin' and get the job done, and he doesn't like that consideration for the locals is putting a damper on his fun.

He's also maybe a bit racist??? (Tail-heads sounds like a racial slur to me, and I've seen other comments agreeing with that assessment.)

Waxer seems to take this in stride and later, when Obi-Wan says their squad needs to disable the enemies' guns, Waxer says:

Waxer: Here we go again.

I know it's an iconic "Star Wars" line, akin to "I've got a bad feeling about this," but it's still worth noting.

The two go with Obi-Wan and their brothers to take down the guns, with Obi-Wan commenting how Waxer and Boil "wanted action," implying he overheard their earlier comments on the gunship.

The two help Obi-Wan take out gun towers and then infiltrate the village, which is deserted. They're then ordered to help scout the village.

Obi-Wan, to Cody: Send your best men to scout ahead. Cody: Will do, sir. Boil, Waxer, come with me. Boil: I guess we're the best.

The way Boil delivers this line, it sounds like he's halfway between proud and uncertain. He probably appreciates Cody's vote of confidence in them, but is also wondering if it's because they happened to be nearby because Cody didn't explicitly call them "the best."

As the two are scouting -- both before and after they leave Cody -- Boil has his gun raised. He's ready to aim and fire at a second's notice. Meanwhile, Waxer has his blaster lowered to his torso. He's not as tightly wound up as Boil is.

As the two walk through the village by themselves, Waxer starts asking Boil questions about what might've happened to the residents, whether they were killed, etc.

Boil notes that there are no bodies, so they were likely driven from their homes.

So, even before meeting Numa, we've got a decent idea of who these two soldiers are.

Waxer is more caring and compassionate. He's definitely not as trigger-happy or aggressive as Boil, but he still does his job well.

Boil is more practical and by-the-book. He's ready to spring into action, and takes his job as a soldier seriously. He also might be older/higher-ranking than Waxer, as Waxer seems to defer to him in some cases, and Cody calls to him first.

Meeting Numa

While scouting, the two hear a sound and investigate it. They find a little Twi'lek girl, whom we later learn is named Numa.

Boil, as he sees Numa: Ah, it's just a little girl. Waxer: Well, what are we going to do with her? Boil: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Why do we have to do anything? We've got a mission to finish.

Looking closely, Boil actually lowers his blaster first, realizing who/what Numa is. But, he also sounds a bit disappointed that he doesn't get to shoot something.

Waxer immediately starts worrying about her well-being and what their duty of care is in this situation. However, Boil believes their responsibility is to complete the mission, starving kids be damned.

Waxer doesn't back down, though:

Waxer: We should do something. I say we take her with us. Boil: You can't be serious. She'll only slow us down.

Again, Boil is focused on completing the mission, while Waxer is concerned about Numa's safety.

A probe droid comes into the vicinity, and Numa cowers. Boil thinks it's because she's afraid of them, but Waxer notices the droid and realizes the truth. The three then hide, and the droid leaves.

The droid worries Boil, who says they need to keep moving. However, Waxer presses him for a third time that they need to do something about Numa. Boil reluctantly agrees to Waxer's plan to take her with them, and bends down to grab Numa. She bites him, and he calls her a "tail-head."

Waxer correctly deduces that Numa is afraid of them, as she probably assumes they're droids. He takes off his helmet, showing her he's human:

Waxer: It's alright. See? I'm flesh and blood, just like you.

The two then notice that Numa looks hungry. (The captions say Boil takes note of this, but based on the audio, I think it's actually Waxer. Waxer doesn't have his helmet on, but Boil does, and the line is delivered by someone who isn't wearing a helmet.)

Anyway, Boil takes out a ration and hands it to Waxer, who hands it to Numa. While Boil might be older/outrank Waxer, he's apparently letting Waxer take the lead in this particular situation after Numa initially bit him.

As Boil also removes his helmet, Numa calls them "nerra," which we later find out means "brother." While they're unaware, it's an indication that Numa already trusts and respects them.

Waxer tells Numa their names, but Numa continues to call them "nerra."

Boil, as he puts his helmet back on: Oh, you made a friend. Mission accomplished. [sighs] Can we go now?

I find it interesting that Boil says Waxer made a friend, when Numa was calling both of them "nerra." So, while he didn't know what "nerra" meant, he only acknowledges her bond with Waxer and not himself. Once again, he's only focused on completing the mission. He doesn't give a crap about this kid beyond answering Waxer's complaints that they need to do something with her.

Waxer stands and puts his helmet back on, as he prepares to follow Boil. He calls to Numa, who seems reluctant to leave.

Boil: Look, she doesn't even want to go. Little monster was fine before we came along, so let's MOVE.

Boil has finally convinced Waxer that they don't have any more responsibility toward Numa. She'll be fine as-is. Waxer takes one last look at Numa before following Boil out into the street.

Following Numa

Later, Numa follows the two through the streets of the deserted village. Waxer immediately notices, looking back at her, but keeps walking.

Waxer: I wonder what happened to her family. Boil: They're probably dead. Hopefully, she'll survive this mess.

Again, we see that Waxer is concerned while Boil is practical to the point of being cavalier. However, that last line makes me think Boil is starting to ... warm up ... to Numa. (Sorry, I had to.) He's definitely not on the same level as Waxer is... yet.

Waxer continues to focus on her well-being, especially with the context that she's likely an orphan. (We find out later that she's not, but they don't know that yet.)

Waxer: So, what happens to her? I mean, after we leave. Boil: I don't know. Ah, don't get any ideas. We're not taking her with us.

I do wonder who the "we" is that Waxer mentions. Does he mean his company specifically, or the clone army in general? I imagine, from context, it's the former.

I also find it funny that Boil preemptively shuts down Waxer's idea of taking her with them. He must recognize that Waxer's Dad Instincts™️ have kicked in -- probably because his have too but he's fighting them, unlike Waxer.

The two realize that Numa is no longer following them, and Waxer says in a very disappointed tone:

Waxer: She's gone. Boil: I'm sure the little biter will turn up.

Out-of-context, "little biter" sounds like it could be a term of endearment. I wonder if Boil meant it that way, but knowing his personality, he probably meant it more literally.

The two then turn around and see that Numa snuck in front of them, as she stands directly in front of Waxer. He kneels down and affectionately boops her on the nose, which makes her giggle.

Boil's a bit thrown off by the fact that she was able to sneak up on them, considering they're trained soldiers.

Numa then starts pulling Waxer, calling him "nerra" again, and pointing down the street. She runs off, clearly wanting them to follow her.

Waxer calls after her, telling her not to go that way because "that's where the recon droid went."

Boil: Waxer, let her go. Waxer, running after Numa: I'm not just gonna let the droids get her. Boil, running after both of them: I'm just trying to keep you alive! I'll be darned if I know why.

Once again, we see that Waxer's priority is Numa's safety, as he runs after her without hesitation.

Boil, like before, is focused on a combination of following orders, completing the mission, and keeping his brother safe. So, he runs after both of them.

As Waxer catches up to her, he pats her on the head affectionately.

Boil, catching up to them: Good, you caught her. You know, I have binders if we need them. [defensively] What? ... What are we doing here anyway?

Boil almost talks about Numa like she's a prisoner in their custody -- how Waxer "caught" her and how they should put binders on her. Yikes!

He's clearly getting tired of dealing with Numa, partly because she's a child and partly because they can't communicate with her. He's also getting tired of Waxer throwing himself after Numa, when they still have a mission to complete.

Comforting Numa

Numa leads them inside a destroyed house, which Waxer assumes is her home. He's sympathetic to her plight, calling her a "poor little thing" who "lost it all."

He spots a small tooka doll on the ground and gives it to her. Numa starts crying, and he comforts and reassures her by putting his hand on her shoulder.

Waxer: It's OK now. We're here to help.

Numa embraces him and continues crying. He doesn't really know how to react, but ends up reciprocating the embrace by putting a hand on her head.

Finally, Boil approaches them and kneels down too.

Boil: Don't cry kid. We'll keep you safe. I ... I promise.

Numa then embraces him and seems to stop crying. Like Waxer, Boil doesn’t know how to react to being hugged, but pats her on the back.

For Boil, this is clearly a turning point in how he handles Numa. We see later that he's still not happy about having to take care of her, but he has definitely softened toward her, after seeing what she's gone through.

He took the initiative to comfort her. He didn't need to. Waxer seemed to be handling the situation well enough. But, Boil apparently felt compelled to act too.

I imagine that, for a soldier like Boil, making a promise is no easy thing. He wouldn't have told her that if he didn't mean it, so I think -- like Waxer -- he finally let his Dad Instincts™️ kick in. He's not fighting them anymore.

And what's more is he actually one-ups Waxer in a sense. He makes a promise to take care of Numa, which Waxer never did. Waxer just said they were there to help. The wording was more general. But, Boil promises to keep her safe. It's more specific, and could be seen as more comforting: "We're here to help" vs. "We're going to keep you safe."

Side note: I do wonder if Numa is able to understand some Basic, because she gives Boil a meaningful look when he makes that promise AND she stops crying as he directed.

Protecting Numa

While they're still in Numa's destroyed home, the clones' communicators start flashing. Boil is upset, saying they'll be punished for failing to complete the mission and/or report back on time.

Waxer wonders how they're going to explain Numa to their company. He starts coming up with white lies they can tell to avoid getting into trouble.

Boil: We can try. But, mark my words: this will end badly.

Both Waxer and Boil, but more so Boil, are concerned with possible demotion/punishment.

However, they at least don't seem to be arguing about what to do about Numa anymore. They both just start leaving the home and apparently assume Numa will follow them, because they don't physically or verbally have her come along.

When they get outside, both clones take a defensive stance when they realize something's coming. Numa hides behind Waxer, telling him of the danger, before running back into the house.

The two start fighting the creatures attacking them.

Boil: You see what happens when we don't follow orders? [grunts] Waxer: Let's get out of here.

Despite having some change of heart, Boil is still preoccupied with following orders and completing the mission. He is still very much a soldier, even if his Dad Instincts™️ have kicked in.

They barricade themselves inside the home, with Waxer holding the door while Boil shoots at the creatures. Numa opens a tunnel in the floor. Waxer helps her with the heavy stone while Boil puts down cover-fire, until all three escape safely.

When they come out of the tunnels and rejoin their company, they tell Cody they "got sidetracked." Numa, who's holding onto Boil's hand, then peers out from behind him at Obi-Wan and the others.

When Obi-Wan approaches her, she continues to hide behind Boil. Meanwhile, Waxer explains that Numa knows her way around the tunnels.

When Obi-Wan asks in her language, she says she can lead them through the tunnels and even pulls on Boil's hand to come with her.

Numa then leads Obi-Wan, Waxer and Boil through the tunnels to where the other villagers are being held prisoner.

Obi-Wan hands Numa off to Waxer. When he later indicates for the two clones to follow him, Waxer puts Numa down and Boil gestures for her to stay quiet. Numa even mimics his hand gesture as she watches the two clones follow Obi-Wan.

After Obi-Wan frees the villagers, Numa reunites with her parent, and Waxer and Boil help Obi-Wan take out the enemies' main guns.

When the two clones get injured, Numa runs to them. This causes the other villagers to come out and join the fight against the droids.

Just as the tactical droid is about to fire on Obi-Wan and Numa, the villagers swoop in and save the day.

Leaving Numa

As Obi-Wan's company prepares to leave, Waxer bids Numa farewell first. He kneels down, puts a hand on her shoulder and then pats her head.

Waxer: See you later, little one.

Again, Waxer is more comfortable initiating physical affection than Boil is. He's also intentional about getting down on her level to say goodbye.

As Waxer walks off, Boil calls to her:

Boil: Hey, Numa. Stay out of trouble.

At some point off-screen, the clones found out Numa's name. I'm assuming Obi-Wan translated for them. So, it's significant that Boil calls her by name, now that they know what it is.

Boil also recognizes Numa has a penchant for getting into trouble, and tries to warn her against it.

Numa then runs to Boil, who's standing, and hugs his leg. Boil reaches down and puts a hand on her shoulder/back.

Like before, he's not as comfortable as Waxer with initiating physical affection, and he's still not very good about receiving it either. But, he's adjusted well enough.

Boil: Don't be afraid. We'll be back.

Both Waxer and Boil tell Numa this isn't the last time they'll meet. They really did form a strong bond with her, and while it's not clear when they would have a chance, they plan to return and see her again.

As Boil walks away too, Numa looks sad to see the clones go. Her parent comforts her. She calls out "nerra" to the clones several times as she waves goodbye.

Waxer, to Obi-Wan: Sir, what is that she keeps calling us? Obi-Wan: "Nerra." It means "brother."

The two clones then exchange a brief look with each other before turning back to Numa. Waxer waves goodbye, and the two clones walk off into the proverbial sunset with the rest of their company.

I think, in that moment, they were really struck by how Numa viewed them. They probably assumed "nerra" meant "friend" or something similar. They probably had no idea it meant something as powerful as "brother."

Clearly, Numa bonded with them so intensely and trusted them so much, she viewed them as family -- even as far back as their first conversation, when they took their helmets off and gave her food.

Remembering Numa

While we don't get many more appearances of Waxer or Boil, we do see them again in Seasons 2 and 4.

In Season 2, Boil has a picture of Numa on his helmet; and Waxer also has one on his helmet when he dies in Season 4.

It just goes to show how fondly they both remembered her. They literally painted her on their helmets, as if to say, "Heck yeah, we're Numa's brothers!" I can imagine them proudly talking about their “little sister” anytime someone asked about the design.

It's also implied that, at some point during or after the war, one or both clones returned to Ryloth to visit her.

When we see Numa in "Rebels," she's wearing 212th armor and even has Boil's name in Aurebesh on it. I know it's probably more of an Easter egg/headcanon, but I like to think Boil survived the war and returned to Ryloth to see her. It would explain how she got the armor and why his name is on it.

Plus, as I said, Boil is a soldier. He's not going to make promises flippantly. If he said "We'll be back," then I believe he’d follow through if/when he had the chance. I'm sure Waxer would've too, if he hadn't died on Umbara.

The three of them really had a special connection that lasted the rest of their lives.

Prefiguring Hunter & Crosshair

If it wasn't clear already, Waxer and Boil's dynamics with Numa -- both as a group and as individuals -- are very similar to Hunter and Crosshair's dynamics with Omega later in "The Bad Batch" series.

In both cases, two clone brothers are presented with a relatively helpless girl. One insists they have to help her, while the other is against it, believing their priority is their job as soldiers.

Even some of the dialogue is similar, with Crosshair and Boil both continually emphasizing how they need to "follow orders" and "complete the mission." Even Boil's "let her go" is similar to Crosshair telling Hunter:

Crosshair in 1.15: You want to protect the kid? Then let her go.

Ultimately, both sets of brothers decide their responsibility to their "little sister" is important, without forgetting their duty to each other, their other brothers and everyone else who's counting on them.

Similarities Between Boil & Crosshair

These two are definitely the more aggressive brothers in their respective duos. They both seem to have an affinity for heavy weaponry, and are always looking for an excuse to shoot something. Trigger-happy, in a word.

They're both also very practical and mission-driven. They're completely focused on their duty as soldiers. They're constantly bringing up their need to “complete the mission” and “follow orders,” even if it means leaving a girl to fend for herself. They also mention, at least once, their duty to keep their brothers safe as well.

Also, Boil and Crosshair criticize their brothers' paternal instincts when they initially meet their respective "little sisters". They protest taking her with them and/or bothering with her at all.

Later on, both Boil and Crosshair seem to generally care about their sisters' well-being, but not to the same degree as their brothers. They don't want to see her get hurt, but they also don't want to be around her either.

However, perhaps despite their best efforts, they ultimately give into their Dad Instincts™️. For both Boil and Crosshair, this seems to be when their respective "little sisters" are in great distress and/or danger.

For Boil, it's when he sees Numa crying in her ruined home, realizing just how much she's lost and how desperately she needs comfort and protection. For Crosshair, it's when he and Omega are imprisoned on Tantiss, when she has no other physical or emotional support system.

After their respective turning points, Boil and Crosshair seem to be more open to and comfortable around their "little sisters." They don't mind her displays of physical affection (holding hands, hugging, etc.), and do whatever they can to help and protect her.

Ultimately, both Boil and Crosshair have flavors of the "grumpy man who's actually a giant softie" trope, which is why the scenes of Numa hugging Boil and Omega hugging Crosshair hit similarly (at least they do for me).

There's one more specific thing I find interesting with these four characters: Boil and Crosshair calling their "little sisters" by name.

While Waxer was arguably closer to Numa, we never see him call her by name. He just calls her "little one," even after (apparently) finding out her name off-screen. But, Boil specifically calls her "Numa" in their final scene together.

Throughout TCW 1.20, Boil calls Numa "tail-head" and "monster" and "little biter." While I wonder if the latter was meant with some affection, the former two are definitely mean-spirited.

In the same way, throughout TBB Season 1 and 2, Crosshair calls Omega "a child" or "the kid" or his brothers' "little sidekick" in a demeaning way.

But, in Season 3, Crosshair only calls Omega by name. While his brothers and other characters often refer to Omega as "kid" or "the kid," Crosshair never does after Season 2. She is "Omega" from thereon.

Waxer and Hunter (and the others in CF99) can call Numa and Omega "little one" or "kid," because we know they mean it in an affectionate way.

But, Boil and Crosshair don't have that luxury, because they've only employed nicknames disrespectfully.

It also shows just how much both characters' attitudes have changed when they call their "little sisters" by name.

Finally, it's worth noting that while Boil and Crosshair were initially "against" Numa and Omega, respectively, their "little sisters" don't hold grudges.

In fact, even though they bonded with Waxer and Hunter more quickly and (arguably) more closely, the girls still consider Boil and Crosshair their "brothers" all the same. The girls hold them in an equal (or near equal) degree as they do Waxer and Hunter, despite Boil and Crosshair initially rejecting them.

Similarities Between Waxer & Hunter

Unlike their brothers, Waxer and Hunter are characterized as being more compassionate and caring from the get-go, even before meeting their "little sisters."

When he sees the devastation on Ryloth, Waxer wonders about the residents, whether they were killed, etc.

Meanwhile, throughout TBB 1.01 "Aftermath," Hunter lets Caleb Dume escape Order 66 and then lies to protect him. He also refuses to kill the civilians on Onderon, and starts to see the Empire for what it really is.

This is also a small thing, but we get parallel scenes of Waxer and Hunter noticing a probe droid that their brothers didn't.

In general, both Waxer and Hunter push back on their brothers' more cavalier attitudes toward people in danger/need.

Waxer repeatedly tells Boil they should do something about Numa, and then continues to worry about her well-being while she's following them.

In "Aftermath," when Hunter sees Crosshair trying to kill Caleb and then complaining they didn't kill civilians, he calls him out on it. He also generally confronts Crosshair about his obsession with "following orders," when that was something CF99 never worried about in the past.

Then, after they find out Omega is a fellow clone, Hunter insists they need to return to Kamino for Omega despite the dangers.

When meeting their "little sisters," Waxer and Hunter seem to be naturals with kids -- at least compared to their brothers.

They intentionally get down on their knees and talk to them at eye-level. They address them calmly and respectfully. Waxer takes off his helmet to show Numa he's not a droid. They try to make their "little sisters" feel safe and comfortable, despite the stressful situation.

Once their "little sisters" are with them, Waxer and Hunter very naturally switch into Dad Mode™️. They look out for them, protect them, give them reassuring head-pats, shoulder-touches, and so on. Weirdly, though, neither are very good with hugs initially, but they get there eventually.

On top of being more immediate, Waxer and Hunter's bonds with their "little sisters" are arguably much stronger than their brothers'.

Numa seems to be more comfortable around Waxer, especially initially, despite calling both clones "nerra" after they took off their helmets. Again, it's possible that she understood some of what they were saying, and realized Waxer was trying to help her while Boil really wasn't.

For Omega, she spends more time with Hunter early on, as Crosshair was separated from his family due to the Empire enhancing his inhibitor chip. Thus, she develops a very strong bond with Hunter very quickly. Even with Tech, Wrecker and Echo around as well, Omega and Hunter's bond is special.

Overall, Waxer and Hunter seem to be the "default" or "go-to" brother when Numa and Omega are in trouble.

Finally, I also find it interesting that the last gesture of farewell is Waxer and Hunter's.

Even though both Waxer and Boil turn back to look at Numa after finding out what "nerra" means, only Waxer decides to wave back at her.

Similarly, in the TBB series finale, the epilogue shows only Hunter saying goodbye to Omega. Even though both Omega and Hunter acknowledge the other brothers' role in her life, that final moment is theirs.

Just like Numa with Waxer, Omega bonded with Hunter first. So, it feels fitting that her final scene should be with him.

Final Thoughts

It's been fun rewatching "Innocents of Ryloth" and seeing these proto-versions of Hunter and Crosshair. I have no idea whether the TCW/TBB writers did that on purpose, but even if not, it makes for an powerful parallel.

Obviously, there are some major differences. Numa's parent was still alive, while Omega never had a proper parent to begin with. So, Hunter and his brothers arguably had an even greater responsibility to Omega than Waxer and Boil did to Numa.

Also, while Waxer and Boil definitely stayed in the "brother" category, as Numa's parent was still alive, Hunter (and his brothers) crossed over into the "dad" category in Omega's life.

Unlike Waxer and Boil, Hunter & co. took care Omega for years rather than a day or two. They provided for her; they taught her; and they cared for her physically and emotionally from the TBB series premiere to the epilogue.

If given the opportunity, I'm sure Waxer and Boil would've gone back to Ryloth and checked on Numa. Maybe, after the war, they would've even stayed long-term and kept an eye on her like a big brother or uncle might. Again, they bonded with her so strongly that they drew pictures of her on their helmets. They really thought of themselves as her brothers, and ran around battlefields representing her even months after meeting her.

As fans have joked about: put a Jango Fett clone in the immediate vicinity of a kid for a decent amount of time and they will turn into a Dad™️.

Doesn't matter if they're being mind-controlled. Doesn't matter if their priority is to follow orders. Doesn't matter if they're set to be shipped to another world once this mission's done. Doesn't matter if this is literally the first kid they've ever seen in their lives (except fellow clones).

And, even if they don't get enough "incubation time" around the kid to turn into a dad, they will -- at minimum -- turn into a Nerra™️.

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jarenka · 6 months ago

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There are many languages of love and one of the is "I hope you are just joking about dying" (in a very irritated and a bit concerned voice).

(But also the fact that Obi-Wan was returned from dead by the Force gave Anakin a lot of weird ideas...)

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #obikin #post-rotj au #my art

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padawansuggest · 10 months ago

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Obi-Wan has one of the often photographed windows of the temple. And by that. I mean he has a window full of nothing but space squishmallows and the public gets super concerned whenever he has to take them down for a bit, or excited when he changes them a bit or adds new ones. I can’t explain it, he just has a window full of stuffies.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #all of them have names and backstories #he’s been collecting them since he was littol #Qui and Dooku spoil him with new squishies

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221bshrlocked · 10 months ago

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Broken and Grazed, Loved and Saved

Pairing: Crosshair x Jedi AFAB!Reader

Words: 4724

Warnings: Mutual Pining. Mentions of violence and blood. Touching Confessions! Angst to fluff because you know it. Crosshair being a tiny bit soft...just a tiny bit.

Summary: You get shot while trying to save Crosshair. He's shocked and confused as to why you would do such a thing. You both slowly reveal your feelings for each other as he patches you up.

A/N: I crawled back from my writer's block hell hole to post this. This is during The Clone Wars series folks, hence the Jedi insert. Once again, thank you so much to @cloneficgiftexchange for holding this event and single-handedly getting me to write every once in a while. This is for the lovely @arctrooper69 who inadvertently gave me a challenge with Crosshair. I hope you enjoy it babes and I hope I got his character down correctly. This is the first time I write for him. As always, let me know how I am doing in the comments please and thank you.

When Obi-Wan informed you that you’d be accompanying Clone Force 99 on another mission, you tried your best to not let your excitement come through. But one look at your old friend and the smirk on his face made you realize you may not have been as subtle as you originally thought.

“Shut it Kenobi,” you walk past him, shaking your head when you briefly glanced to the side and saw him raising an eyebrow at you. He chuckles at your embarrassment, and you’re torn between making fun of him and letting him be. It was rare to see him display such an elated emotion, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him when finally caught up with you and patted you on the back.

“In all seriousness, do be careful out there.” A worried expression breaks through the smile and you nod at him, knowing that the sentiment wasn’t one of warning but deep concern for your safety.

“As weird as it is to admit this, I feel like I might potentially be safest with them.” You come to a stop once you reach the door of the Temple, looking around the awfully quiet space before returning your attention to Obi-Wan once more.

“I would have to disagree with you there. The rate at which they use explosives is severely higher than any other force I have fought alongside. Nevertheless, I trust your judgment. Do keep me updated, yes?” When you don’t respond right away, Obi-Wan follows your line of sight and notices where your attention suddenly lies. He groans to himself and wishes he wasn’t the keeper of so many secrets.

“Young one!?” You snap out of your momentary haze when Obi-Wan quite literally yells at you, his voice carrying across the grounds and catching the curiosity of none other than the man you found yourself barely able to stop thinking of.

“Sorry, yes?” You feign ignorance, giggling like a young padawan when Obi-Wan rubs his temples and swears beneath his breath.

“I’m only joking. Yes I will be careful, sure I’ll try my best not to get into trouble, and of course I won’t partake in Wrecker’s booming tactics. Satisfied?” You don’t wait for him to respond, already walking towards the Marauder and praying to the Force that the introvert of the group is less hostile towards you this time around. When you grow near to the clones standing at the foot of the ramp, you turn around one last time and wave goodbye to Obi-Wan, laughing when he rolls his eyes at you and heads back into the Temple. As soon as you turn around, you’re met with an incredibly energetic Wrecker, your shock turning into hysterical laughter as soon as he wraps his arms around you and picks you up.

“Heyyy, it’s our favorite Jedi!” His grip on you remains gentle even though he’s lifted you off of the ground a good bit.

“Hey Wrecker, I see you missed me as much as I missed you.” You gently tap him on his shoulder, hoping he’d put you down before any other Jedi sees how familiar you are with him.

“Wreck, put the General down.” You glance to the side and see Hunter standing with his hands on his hips, his facial expression a bit unreadable. You laugh nervously at the leader of the Bad Batch, hoping Wrecker wouldn’t get in trouble because of your friendliness.

To his chagrin, Wrecker puts you down and backs away, whispering a few apologies before returning to stand next to Tech.

“Sorry, I know I shouldn’t encourage it.” You tell Hunter as the two of you walk away from the rest of the Batch, your eyes unintentionally remaining on your favorite member of the group. If Hunter notices how you pay more attention to Crosshair, he says nothing of it and pretends you weren’t watching him like a hawk.

“No need for any apologies, General. I don’t particularly care but I know how things are on Coruscant. Wouldn’t want him to be misunderstood.” Hunter points towards the Clones standing around the Temple with other Jedi Masters, smiling nervously at you when you sigh anxiously at the prospect of being the reason behind Wrecker potentially getting in trouble.

“I promise to talk to him. And I’ll make sure to only be friendly when we’re not surrounded by…you know.” You try to laugh off the circumstances you find yourself in, only for Hunter’s body language to shift at the implications behind your words.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Even if they aren’t around, others tend to misunderstand and- well, let’s just say that things get a little heated when we finish a mission and you aren’t on-board anymore.” You furrow your eyebrows at Hunter’s response, only to follow his line of sight and see who he’s staring at. When you’re met with Crosshair’s narrowed, irritated eyes shifting between you and Wrecker, you realize that Hunter may know more than he let on.

“I- I don’t think you-” You trip over your words, unsure of how to respond now that Hunter knew of your inclinations as well.

“Save it, I’m not judging…just giving you a heads up.” He excuses himself, saying something or other to Tech as the two of them ascend the Marauder. You look to the ground as you make your way to the ship, afraid of making eye contact with any of the others out of fear of making things more awkward. Even as you walk past Crosshair, you ignore him completely, pretending to fix the lightsaber hanging from your belt so you don’t have to deal with him now. As soon as you go to the cockpit, you throw a quick hello to Echo and walk back, pushing through the supplies scattered around so you can sit in the small space at the end of the ship.

Even though you want to sit near Crosshair, you decide against it, knowing that you don’t have the capacity to deal with his passive aggressive comments now. You haven’t seen him in a long while, and there’s nothing you wish to do more than be near him, even if the two of you were to remain silent. But if the conversation with Hunter proved anything, it’s the fact that Crosshair was begging to pick a fight right now. You just didn’t want it to be with you.

Taking a deep breath, you do your best to center yourself and ignore the whispers and murmurs traveling from the cockpit. You manage a fair job for most of the flight, but the closer you get to the Outer Rim planet, you vaguely hear your name thrown around between Hunter, Tech and Wrecker. You know better than to listen to what they’re saying, and before you can decide on whether or not you should ignore them, Wrecker stands up and grumbles something louder than the others would have preferred.

“She doesn’t mind! You’re just telling me what to do because Crosshair won’t listen to you and talk to her.” Your eyes shoot wide open at his words, and as you turn around to face them, you see all of their expressions turn blank. Wrecker only recognizes just how loud he is when he faces you and sees a quizzical look on your features. He chuckles nervously and sits down as Echo makes his way towards you.

“Sorry about that, we know how much you like to meditate.” He sits down beside you, glaring quickly at Wrecker so he doesn’t accidentally give anything else away.

“It’s okay, it’s not like I was getting much meditation done anyway. You guys whisper pretty loudly.”

“You mean you- could you hear us this whole time?” Echo asks, the direct gaze you offer him letting him know that yes, you could certainly hear what they were going on about this whole time.

“You know then.” It was more of a comment than a question, but you shrug your shoulders at him regardless, unsure of whether they were telling the truth or just reading into the interactions between you and Crosshair. Before you can respond however, you feel the ship drop out of hyperspace and into the atmosphere of the planet.

“Another time Echo,” you ignore the pleading look on Echo’s face, not wanting to continue this conversation now that the mission officially commenced. Making your way to the front of the ship, you look across the yellow planet below you and sigh in irritation when you notice the storms forming just above the surface.

“Did you know that Eshil is one of three desert planets that receives frequent rain? Rain storms are often violent here, delivering up to seven millimeters per minute. It is more likely for one to drown down there than to die of thirst.” The ease with which Tech spoke made you giggle, and you couldn’t help but thank him politely for the unsolicited knowledge when you saw Wrecker and Echo glare at him worryingly.

“Don’t worry big guy, nothing will happen to you on my watch.” You pat Wrecker on the back as you begin your descent onto Eshil, and before you can attempt to calm him down a little, the Marauder begins to shake violently due to the rain and thunderstorms. In a moment of distraction, you lose your balance and fly backward, suddenly feeling a pair of slim fingers grab onto your waist to prevent you from falling. Thinking it’s Hunter who just saved you, you turn around to thank him, only to find a pair of steel, hazel eyes staring dead at you.

The faint gasp doesn’t go unnoticed by Crosshair, nor does the disappointed look you throw at him when he lets go so he can push you into one of the seats.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Jedi.” His tone is mocking in a way, but you don’t dwell too much on it and instead look around to see if anyone noticed the little interaction. Everyone is blissfully unaware of the tense moment you shared with Crosshair, and even though you can feel his eyes on you, you choose to avoid his gaze, afraid he would see how much of an effect he has on you.

It takes too long to your liking to land, not because you didn’t like the turbulence, but because you couldn’t stand being in close proximity with Crosshair any longer. An hour ago, you were excited to join the team, wanting nothing more than to try and get closer to Crosshair, or at the very least, figure out why he’s always more passive aggressive with you than with anyone else. But after the not-so-subtle comment from Hunter, and the rather awkward conversation you overheard, you couldn’t finish this mission and be back on Coruscant fast enough. Somehow, knowing that the animosity was a product of mutual feelings made things worse.

No, not worse. That wasn’t the right word.

Real. It made things real. It made things more accessible, which meant that the probability of anything happening was simultaneously high and low.

“We’re here,” Hunter’s announcement is a welcomed distraction, and you wait until everyone stands aside to review the plan before jumping out of the Marauder. The rain comes down harsher than you’ve anticipated but you take a few seconds to appreciate it regardless, knowing that it wasn’t everyday you experienced rain caused by clean, natural clouds. It was so much different than Coruscant, strangely soothing as it seeped through your clothes and kissed your cheeks.

The cool sensation suddenly shifts into a warmer breeze, causing your eye muscles to clench tightly in confusion. The feeling engulfs you almost like a hug, and you’re not sure how or why it becomes hotter with each passing second. It’s only when you open your eyes and glance to the side that you finally understand why you were being flooded with such intensity. You quickly avert your gaze as soon as you notice Crosshair’s embarrassment when he realizes that you’ve caught him staring at you.

“Alright fellas, listen up. Our mission is simple: infiltrate the base undetected, retrieve the classified intel from their innermost vaults, exfiltrate before they even know we’re there. Stay sharp and Wrecker…no explosives unless I say so.” Hunter points firmly at the bigger clone, and you almost giggle when you see the hint of a grin appearing on his face.

“Awww man!” Wrecker throws his hands up in the air, walking away and crossing his arms when he sees you approaching him.

“Don’t worry big guy, there’s always a next time.” You pat him on the back, laughing to yourself when he retorts at you like a child.

“That’s what you said last time.”

“But I really mean it this time,” you twist your head down until you can get a better look at him, and when you meet his eyes, you watch as he tries his best to not crack a smile in return. When he does, you walk past him and stay behind Hunter as he slowly moves through the barren land. The closer you get to the compound though, the more you become uneasy at your lack of cover, but before you can say anything, the rain begins to come down harder than you thought it possible, making you squint to try and see where everyone is.

“I guess that should do the trick!” You hear Echo scream from behind you, but the sentiment makes you uncomfortable. The idea of losing the rest of them before you even make it to the enemy line is disconcerting, and you make your way towards Hunter quickly. When he sees you approaching him, he stops and waits for you to catch up.

“Follow my lead and make sure everyone keeps their helmets on so they can see.” You throw the hood of your cloak over your head a little further, the action not helping one bit as the water continues to crash down on you like a waterfall.

“When we get there-”

“I’ll signal for Echo so he can unlock the doors.” Waiting until he nods in agreement, you continue your journey towards the compound, praying to the maker that the enemy’s visibility is as bad as yours. The trek to the compound takes longer than you like, but when you finally have it in sight, you turn around and wait for the others to reach you. Hunter and Tech are ahead of everyone, and you squint hard until you can see Echo and Wrecker behind them. When Crosshair doesn’t show right away, you begin to worry, afraid that the rain became less of an inconvenience and more of a trigger to him. You’re about to run past the guys when you finally see him walking through the heavy downfall, no longer holding his firearm in his hands and instead taking his time as he walks towards the rest of the team. Even though you can’t see his expression, you know for a fact that Hunter is smirking beneath his mask, and you choose to ignore him as you go back to the front of the Batch and walk closer to the compound.

“There aren’t any guards posted outside. The storm must have sent everyone back inside.” You make a note, signaling for Echo to move ahead of you while the others wait a little farther away in case things don’t go according to plan. Anxiety washes over you all of a sudden, and you glance at the only member of the Batch you know dislikes the rain more than anyone. If Crosshair notices the way you’re staring at him worryingly, he says nothing and keeps his attention on your surroundings, ready to fire at anyone who comes in the way.

When Echo unlocks the door, Tech follows after and heads straight towards the secured vaults at the heart of the compound. It’s quieter than you expect, but you figure it’s only because the storm continues to rage outside and grow louder by the second. As you move towards the vault however, you find the silence nearly deafening, and you wonder briefly if this entire mission could be a set-up. Before you can voice your concerns to Hunter, Tech gains access to the room with ease, already getting to work for the intel with Echo. You stand guard outside while Hunter and Wrecker scout the hallways and ensure you don’t have any visitors.

Using the distraction to your advantage, you slowly make your way to Crosshair and stand beside him, waiting until he acknowledges your presence with a glance before attempting to break the awkward air around the two of you.

“I hope the rain isn’t too much of a bother.” You’re not sure what else to say, and as you realize he won’t be responding any time soon, you figure it’s best to not try and fix whatever it is between the two of you now. Knowing that it will be even more uncomfortable if you walk away from him, you remain standing where you are, turning your attention to Tech and Echo to see if they’re almost done.

The abrupt sound of guns firing pushes you forward immediately, and you watch as several weapons descend from the ceiling and the walls, instantly firing at everyone in the room. You make your way to the nearest wall and burn through the small firearms with your lightsaber, watching as Crosshair hits several more on the opposite side of the wall while Tech and Echo extract the intel.

“I knew it was too quiet.” You mutter to yourself, running as fast as you can across the space to get as many of the little suckers as possible. When there aren’t any left, you sheath your weapon again and move towards the door.

“Time to head out,” Hunter screams across the hallway and as you file out, you sense movement at one of the corners of the room. It’s instinctive the way you run towards Crosshair and shield him with your body, and your curse at yourself for not ensuring that all of them were taken down. Anger seeps through your mind at what could have been a fatal mistake and you ignite your saber instantly, propelling it towards the small object and bringing it back into the palm of your hand as more smoke fills the room.

“We need to leave, now.” Your voice is stern, and even though you can see Crosshair staring at where you’ve just been shot, you don’t pay him any mind as you run through the winding hallways and make your way out of the compound. It’s somehow raining even harder than earlier, and you feel your body grow more faint with each step you take. The faster you try to run, the more unbearable the pain becomes, and it occurs to you that you would be no good to any of them if you slowed them down.

You come to a stop and haunch over, applying pressure against your stomach and wincing in pain when more blood oozes through your fingers. Thinking that they’re all ahead of you, you kneel down and allow the rain to become less of an inconvenience and more of a calming presence.

“What are you doing?” Crosshair hisses as he comes up behind you, and when you lock contact with his eyes, you regret not pushing yourself harder.

“I’m fine…go!” You hope your voice isn’t as wavering to his ears as it is to your own, and when he shakes his head, you attempt to stand to confront him, only to fall back to the ground again.

“Tech, bring the ship to my position.” You cruse yet again as Crosshair pushes a button on the side of his helmet while speaking to Tech.

“Why have you stopped?” You can hear Hunter ask through the comms, and you look at Crosshair again, silently begging him to leave so he doesn’t get hurt.

“The General’s been compromised.” He leans down and pushes your hands aside to inspect the wound, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was angry at you for getting shot…for saving him.

“You need to go to the Marauder. That’s an order.” You hiss in pain when you feel him bring your hand back to your stomach and push on it harder than before.

“You’re currently bleeding all over the floor. You’re in no shape to give me orders…General.” He’s pushing your buttons, but unlike before, when he smirked at every snarky comment he threw your way and chuckled when you retorted in likeness, his voice is laced with unspoken feelings now, as if he was silently thanking you for what you did for him.

Before you can dwell too much on the change in his behavior, the Marauder lands right beside you, allowing you a moment of respite before Wrecker comes down the ramp and takes you in his arms. The jolting movements make you cough as your stomach throbs in pain, and you take one last look at Crosshair, finding his expression as irritated as when you were on your way here.

To his credit, Wrecker does try to be more slow and soft with his movements, but when he lays you down, you can’t help but scream in agony at the wound tearing through your skin.

“S-sorry.” You shake your head at Wrecker and assure him with a smile, only to drop it when Tech comes with a medkit and asks his brother to give you some privacy.

“I do apologize General but I must cut your robe to administer the bacta spray and patches properly.” Ever the gentleman, Tech waits for your consent before taking out a pair of scissors. He’s about to cut through your robes when Crosshair walks in and stands behind him.

“If you can wait out-”

“I’ll do it.” Crosshair doesn’t give Tech a chance to finish his request, and when he stands up to argue with him, you reach for Tech’s hand and nod at him, waiting until he places everything down before moving towards the front of the ship.

You’re sure Crosshair didn’t think this far ahead because he remains standing and doesn’t once turn his sight away from your wound.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You break the silence and push your head back as the wound continues to burn. It must be all Crosshair needs to hear because he gets right to business, not once saying anything to you as he rips through your robes and begins to disinfect the flesh around the gash. You hiss and instantly slam your hand against his thigh, digging your nails into the plastoid covering him as he sterilizes the laceration to prevent any infection.

“What were you thinking?” It’s the first time he’s ever spoken to you so softly, and you figure it’s because you’re hurt and can’t respond in likeness. But when you open your eyes and look at him, you’re shocked to find worry and fear swimming in his hazel brown orbs. It throws you off a little, and you shake the thoughts aside, knowing that you may just be reading too much into his behavior.

“At the time, I thought it was a great idea!” You chuckle only to curse out loud when he begins to apply the bacta spray on top of the wound. You think he’ll smile at catching you off guard, but when you look at him again, he’s as somber as a few seconds ago.

“And now?” Crosshair growls at you, actually growls, the sound coming as a shock to you. It occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, he was attempting to show you that he cares, but wasn��t sure how to go about it. When he stops what he’s doing and continues to keep his gaze on you, you lay your head back down and allow the subsiding pain to calm you a little.

“Maybe…maybe not so much.” He narrows his eyes at you then, the expression becoming a little too intense for you and making you turn away to face the wall. Not another word is exchanged between you and him, and as he finally places the bacta patches on your stomach, you turn to face him again, no longer able to keep playing whatever game he started.

“Thank you, for not leaving…for staying with me.” Crosshair continues to remain silent, his focus completely on the wound he was dressing.

“And thank you for patching me up.” Again, he doesn’t acknowledge any of your words, waiting until he’s sure the wound is perfectly protected before throwing everything back into the medkit. You think he’s about to leave but when he finally looks up, you notice his eyebrows relax as he lets out a deep breath.

“Why would you do that?”

The question catches you off guard, and you figure you may as well tell him how you feel because you’re not sure what will happen tomorrow.

“You know why.” The simple whisper holds a thousand confessions, and Crosshair clenches his jaw tightly as he reaches for your hand. You gasp at the warmth of his skin, and swallow the lump in your throat when he grabs a wet towel and begins to clean the dried blood. You’re not sure how long you hold your breath, but when he’s done, he doesn’t let go. In fact, he does the opposite, bringing both of his rough palms around your own and keeping it as close to him as possible.

“I- I’m not worth your-” The sentiment breaks your heart and you furrow your eyebrows at him as you attempt to sit up, not wanting him to finish whatever he was about to say. The stinging returns a thousandfold but you ignore the shooting pain and pull Crosshair towards you.

“Don’t ever say that.” You want to say more. You want to tell him that you’d gladly do it again to ensure his safety, that you wouldn’t give it a second thought because you care for him more than you’re allowed, more than he’ll ever know. But the way he looks at you makes it difficult to say anything else, and you lay back down again when your muscles beg you for some respite. Crosshair doesn’t let go of your hand. If anything, his hold on you tightens as he moves to sit closer to you.

“It was annoying.” Whatever you thought he was going to say is certainly not those three words, and the confusion etched on your face makes him crack a smile before finally looking from your hand to you.

“The rain.” You look at him for what feels like hours before you finally register what he was trying to tell you.

“Wow, it took me getting shot at for you to finally answer my question…an hour later?” The joke doesn’t sit too well with him and you apologize quickly, afraid he’d get up and leave you all alone.

“I- I didn’t think you’d…” The words die in his throat, and you look down at where your hands are intertwined, wanting to give him some privacy as he comes to terms with what he was feeling, what he was oversharing with you.

“Remember?” You finish for him, smiling when he nods quietly and begins to trace the lines across the back of your hand.

“I remember everything you tell me, Crosshair.” Once again, the simple response is laced with too many revelations to your liking, but you know you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t use this moment to show him how much you care.

How much you love him.

He looks at you then, about to say something when he sees your face twist at the returning stinging sensations.

“You need to rest.” His voice is firm, making you wish you weren’t hurt and could actually make whatever this is last longer.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Before, you would have been annoyed with yourself for being so vulnerable in front of him, but the question must be the one thing he needed to hear because he smiles softly at you before nodding in silence, bringing his chair a little closer to you can rest your arm better as you keep holding his hands.

“Sleep, cyare. I’ll protect you.”

#crosshair tbb #crosshair bad batch #crosshair x reader #crosshair x jedi!reader #crosshair tbb x reader #crosshair tbb x jedi!reader #crosshair the bad batch #fluffy crosshair #angsty crosshair #TBBE24

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tennessoui · 8 months ago

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wait lol au where post-war, the jedi order does a date auction a la every cliche ever where they auction off a date night with one of their jedi generals. it's supposed to raise credits for various post-war charities as well as stoke good feelings about the order (the smear campaign was pretty effective, even if sidious died before the genocide bit)

obviously both the hero with no fear and the negotiator are put on the metaphorical chopping block. anakin is a Good Husband™️ so he clears this with Padmé first, and she laughs and agrees and wishes him luck in surviving the hoards of fans that desire him carnally. she says as a senator, she will be expected to attend and maybe even bid. they both agree that it would be way too obvious for their super secret marriage if she bids on anakin, and anakin asks her to bid on obi-wan in a spur of the moment thing.

it's just. obi-wan was really hurt aboard the invisible hand and then he was hurt again when fighting with grievous. and is anyone vetting these random people who will get to go on a date with the jedi? anyone could win!! a disgruntled separatist could win obi-wan's attention for a night and then take him on a date and then kill him!!!! under anakin's very nose!!!

anakin actually gets like. super concerned about this possibility. like super concerned. he gets padmé to promise that she will bid however much it takes to win obi-wan's hand (she is after all generationally wealthy) and she agrees because she loves him and then also follows through because she's a woman of her word.

anakin gets bid on by several people, one woman wins, it's whatever, anakin doesn't care. what anakin cares about is making sure he and this person can go to the same restaurant as obi-wan and padmé. just like. to make sure obi-wan is alright. he was looking quite flushed during the bidding? anakin is Concerned.

and anakin's poor date, who paid millions of credits for his attention, has to deal with an anakin who is obsessed with what's happening a table over and why are they laughing and are their knees touching beneath the table and maybe anakin should go over and like? break it up? his master is obviously a bit uncomfortable in all this candlelight. he looks beautiful, obviously, but he's clearly uncomfortable and he would feel better if anakin were there. obviously.

and anakin's poor date ALSO has to deal with meeting obi-wan kenobi after/during dinner because anakin can't keep in his lane, and general kenobi is downright hostile and cold to her because he's feeling incredibly overprotective at the thought of anakin having to spend time with some woman who bought him. as if he were a slave again.

#kit's silly lil aus #obikin #i feel like date auctions were huge aus in like 2015 #but also i just finished season 1 ted lasso #so this was kicking around in my head #also anakin is out of his mind with jealousy that his wife gets to spend a romantic evening with his master #thats his master #why didnt anakin bid on his master??? he shouldn't have crowd-sourced this obviously #(anakin's poor date has not been looked at once)#anakin's poor date: so anakin --#anakin mind in a diffrent place: i'll stop you right there im married to my master #anakin's poor date: you're married to your master???#anakin: no wait. im married #not to my master.#im just married.#but also my master is here. and important to the story #anakin to himself: wait should i be married to my master??

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jetii · 1 month ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Twenty-Two: Threshold

Chapter WC: 12,753

Chapter Warnings: drama lite, alcohol use

A/N: Posting this chapter early before I disappear for a bit! Next chapter will probably be out after Christmas. Sorry in advance for the ending 🙈

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

"Hey! You're alive!" Ahsoka says as she rushes towards you.

You barely step out of your room before she tackles you, the force of her embrace knocking the wind out of you. You stumble backwards and hit the wall, the breath leaving your lungs in a rush as her arms wrap around your neck. You gasp for air and try to shove her away, but her grip is firm, and you're forced to wait until she decides to release you.

"Missed you, too," you manage to choke out.

She laughs and pulls away, her hands landing on your shoulders, her face inches from yours. Her eyes scan you, taking in every inch, every detail.

"Why didn't you comm? I thought something happened to you," she scolds, and she finally releases you, her arms falling to her sides. "Master Kenobi said you were fine, but he wouldn't tell me anything. Said it wasn't his place. So, what's going on?"

"Um," you start. You aren't sure how much Anakin's told her, or Obi-Wan, if they've told her anything at all, and you hesitate, unsure of how much to share. You don't want her to know the extent of your...difficulties. It's better that she doesn't. Besides, you're not really sure what to say.

"Are you okay?" she presses, her voice filled with concern. "What happened?"

"I'm fine. Really," you assure her, and her eyes narrow, clearly unconvinced. You sigh and shake your head. "Obi-Wan and I had a...fight. About me receiving my own command. He was worried about me, and it didn't go well. That's all."

"Why would he be worried about that?" Ahsoka asks, her tone curious. "Everyone knows you're a great fighter. The Council wouldn't have given you a brigade if they didn't think you could handle it."

"Yeah, well, Obi-Wan's a worrier," you say, and your stomach churns. It's not entirely a lie, but it's not completely true, either. "You know how he is."

"That's true," she admits. "He does like to fret. Especially about you."

"Yeah," you mutter, and a pang of guilt shoots through your chest. You shove it down, forcing yourself to move past it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Or him. I was just...upset. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay. We all get upset sometimes," she says, her voice softening. She smiles and shakes her head, her hands reaching out, grasping yours. "Glad you're back, though. I've missed having someone around here who doesn't talk in riddles all day."

"Thanks," you mutter, and you manage a weak smile. Ahsoka's eyes narrow, and her fingers squeeze yours, her grip tightening.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say quickly. "I'm just tired. I didn't sleep very well last night."

"You seem...different. Than when you left." She glances away, and her voice drops. "Something happened, didn't it?"

"A lot of things happened," you say dryly.

"Something big," Ahsoka presses. She looks back, her eyes meeting yours. "What is it?"

"Nothing," you say, but you know she won't believe it. You clear your throat and take a deep breath, straightening yourself. "We should talk about it. Later. Just...not right now. Okay?"

"Okay," she agrees reluctantly. Her eyes linger on you for a moment, and she squeezes your hand once more before releasing you. "Fine."

"Where's Anakin? I thought he was going to be here," you ask in a blatant attempt to change the subject. It works, and her expression lightens, her posture relaxing.

"He is. He's just late, as usual," she says, rolling her eyes. "He sent me to bring you to the hangar. And to make sure you don’t run away again. He's worried about you."

"Right," you sigh. You glance back into your room, checking to make sure you haven't forgotten anything, and you shut off the lights. Your room is in a better state this morning, but you’re still careful to block the doorway from Ashoka’s view. The last thing you need is her finding out about your mess. "Is Rex here, too?"

"Yeah," she replies. "He's waiting with Anakin. He seemed anxious, more than usual."

"I'll bet," you mutter, your hands flexing and unflexing at your sides. You've spent most of last night worrying about your meeting, wondering what it will be like, and you can feel a flutter in your chest, a knot forming in your stomach. You try to push back against it, but it doesn't go away.

"Come on," Ahsoka says. She reaches out and grabs your arm, tugging you towards the hallway. "We're gonna be late. If we're lucky, we might even beat Anakin."

"Let's hope," you chuckle.

Ahsoka laughs, and she turns, pulling you along. The two of you hurry through the temple, weaving through the corridors, passing the other Jedi as they go about their business. They ignore you, lost in their own thoughts, and you can't help but wonder how many of them have heard. How many of them know. If any of them do, they don't say anything. For once in your life, you’re grateful for their silence.

The further you walk, the greater your anxiety grows. The halls become emptier, more barren, and you can feel the tension building, your shoulders tensing. You're almost there. Almost to the hangar. Almost to Rex.

The last time you saw him, you had hugged him goodbye and promised you would update him on the Council meeting. He had given you a small smile and wished you luck, and then, he was gone. You haven't spoken since. You've spent a week apart, and in that time, everything has changed. Everything.

A part of you wants to turn back. To go home and crawl into bed and pretend like nothing happened. Pretend like this never happened. Pretend like you don't care. Pretend like you haven't been thinking about him, wondering what he's doing, how he's feeling. Pretend like you haven't been obsessing over every touch, replaying every word, every smile, over and over and over.

You can't do that.

"You alright?" Ahsoka asks. Her eyes meet yours, and her brows raise. "You look like you're going to throw up."

“Did he say anything?” you ask, and her head tilts to one side, her mouth scrunching.

"Anakin? About what?"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "Rex. Did he...say anything about me?"

"Not really," she says slowly. She's watching you, her expression thoughtful. "He asked where you were. Wanted to know if I'd heard from you. When I told him you were out of contact, he said, 'Oh,' and that was it. Why?"

"I...I don't know. Just, making sure," you mumble, and you can feel her eyes on you, burning holes in the side of your head. You keep moving, focusing on the path ahead, trying not to think about it. "I was just wondering."

"What's going on?" she presses. She comes to a sudden stop, forcing you to do the same as her hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist. "Wait. You're nervous."

"No, I'm not," you say quickly, and her eyebrows rise, a look of disbelief flashing across her face.

"Yes, you are," she argues. She tugs on your wrist, turning you towards her. She studies you, her gaze moving across your face, her mouth turning down. "I don't think I've ever seen you this nervous. Is there something I should know?"

"I'm not nervous," you protest. You try to free your arm from her grip, but her hold tightens, her fingers digging into your skin.

"Yes, you are," she presses. She leans in, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm not,” you snap.

"You are," she insists. "I can see it."

"Well, you're seeing things."

"Uh-huh," she says, her voice doubtful. Her mouth twists, and her fingers tighten around your wrist. "He’s been acting strange, too, you know. Ever since we got back. He kept checking his datapad, waiting for a message. Any time I ask, he says he's fine, and he shoves it back into his pocket. But, I've seen him staring at it."

Your mouth closes, and you bite your lip, unable to form a reply. Your stomach twists, and the fluttering sensation increases, spreading outward, until your whole body feels like it's vibrating. It would be easier to deny it, to play it off as nothing, but you can't find the words, and the silence that follows is deafening, a heavy weight falling over the both of you.

The two of you stand there, frozen in place, neither of you saying a word. After a moment, Ahsoka's grip loosens, and her fingers drop, her hands falling to her sides.

"Are you two—" she starts, but you cut her off, speaking over her.

"We should go. Anakin's waiting."

You pull away and move around her, continuing down the hall.

Ahsoka lets out a frustrated huff and runs after you, catching up within seconds. You're grateful for her shorter stride, and you can't help but speed up, hoping to outpace her. It's a futile effort, and she easily matches your pace, her feet matching yours step for step.

"So, there is something going on," she says. Her tone is accusatory, and her head whips towards you, her eyes widening. "There is! I knew it!"

"No, there's not," you argue. You pick up your pace, but she's faster, and she manages to stay right next to you. "There's nothing. Nothing. Okay?"

"You're lying," she accuses, and her lips twist, her head shaking. "I can't believe you. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you repeat.

"Really?" she scoffs, and her voice is filled with skepticism. "Because, from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like something. It looks a lot like—"

"Like what?" you challenge, and you finally come to a stop, your gaze landing on her. You can feel your face flushing, and your jaw clenches, your mouth tightening. "Say it. Tell me. What is it?"

Ahsoka's mouth opens, and her lips move, trying to form a response. You watch her gaze flick around the empty hall, checking to see if anyone is around, before finally landing back on you. Her voice is lowered, her tone serious. "Are you two together? Is that what this is?"

"No," you reply, and you immediately wince. It comes out too fast, too quick, and you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax. You have to calm down. To control yourself. Otherwise, you're going to make things worse. Much, much worse. "No, we're not. We're not together. It's not like that."

"What is it like, then?" she asks.

"We're friends," you answer, and her eyebrow raises, a hint of amusement crossing her face. You glare at her, your voice rising. "We are. Really. That's all. There's nothing going on."

"Okay," she says, holding up her hands. "I believe you. I just...don't understand. He's acting really weird. And, so are you."

"I'm not acting weird," you protest. "I'm just nervous. About meeting my men."

"Okay," she says, her mouth turning down, a crease forming on her forehead. "Fine. If you say so."

You stare at her, taking in her skeptical expression, and you let out a sigh, shaking your head. "Listen. You know me. Do you honestly think I would be involved with him? With anyone? In a million years?"

Ahsoka thinks about it for a moment, and then shrugs, her expression shifting. "No. I guess not.”

“And Rex would never risk his position. Not like that. Not for anyone," you continue, and her lips purse, her eyes darting away. "He's not that kind of man."

"Right," she mutters.

"Right," you agree. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to release some of your tension. But your words don't help. If anything, they make things worse. The pit in your stomach deepens, and a wave of guilt washes over you.

Because that's not entirely true. Rex is that kind of man. A good man. He would risk everything for someone he loved. For someone he cared about. And a part of you knows, without uncertainty or question, that he cares about you. He cares about you more than you care about yourself. More than he should. Much more than he should.

Rex has risked everything for you. More than once. He's risked his career, his reputation, his life. All for you. And he's done it without hesitation, without asking for anything in return. He's done it because he believes in you. Because he cares about you. He's put his trust in you, and he's supported you, and he's been by your side, every step of the way. Even when you didn't deserve it. Even when you weren't worthy of it.

And you shut him out. You pushed him away.

You've been so worried about what would happen, what everyone would say, what everyone would think, that you didn't stop to consider his feelings. Or yours.

You haven't stopped to consider what you want. Not really. What you want from him, from yourself, from this. Not once.

A sudden realization hits you.

This isn't fair. Not to either of you. You need to talk to him.

"Come on," Ahsoka says, her hand reaching out and grabbing yours. "Anakin's going to be furious if we're late."

You nod, and she pulls you forward, continuing down the hall. The two of you walk in silence, and the anxiety fades, replaced by a sense of determination. Your mind races, turning over every possible scenario, and you run through a list of ways to begin a conversation, discarding each one as soon as you think of it. By the time you reach the hangar, you've settled on the most basic approach, and you're mentally preparing yourself for whatever might happen next.

As soon as your eyes land on Rex, though, all thoughts disappear.

His back is to you, and he's standing with Anakin, talking about something, their voices low. They're facing one of the gunships getting ready to take off, and Anakin is gesturing, his arm waving back and forth, his expression animated. It's obvious that he's telling a story, and Rex is listening, his attention focused entirely on Anakin's face, nodding along to whatever it is that he's saying.

The sight sends a pang of longing through your chest, and you pause, staring at the back of his head, watching the muscles of his neck flex and tense. The urge to run to him, wrap your arms around him, and bury your face in his neck is overwhelming, and your hands twitch at your sides, resisting the temptation.

It's been less than a week since you last saw him, but it feels like so much longer. Like an eternity.

And he's right there.

Anakin’s gaze shifts over Rex’s shoulder, and his eyes lock onto yours, a smirk forming on his lips. He turns to Rex and claps his arm as he leans in, his words too soft to hear. Rex suddenly tenses and snaps his head up, turning toward the door, his gaze searching the room until his eyes land on you.

Your stomach flips and a lump forms in your throat, and all of your carefully rehearsed speeches disappear, forgotten, lost to the ether. For a moment, neither of you move. Neither of you say anything. The two of you stare at each other, drinking in every detail, taking in every nuance. You can feel his relief as much as you can see it in the set of his shoulders and the curve of his mouth and the warmth in his eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, a small smile forms on his face, and Rex dips his head slightly in acknowledgement. "General."

"Captain," you respond automatically. The words are awkward and stiff. Formal. Too formal. You grimace and clear your throat before correcting yourself. "Rex."

"You're back," he says.

"I am," you nod. You take a few steps towards him, and the two of you continue staring at each other, the tension between the two of you increasing with each passing second. An awkward silence descends over the group as Rex continues to look at you with an intense gaze, and you shift your weight, the silence becoming almost unbearable until Anakin lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

"Well, this is fun," he says dryly as he looks between you. "Anyone else want to say something? Ahsoka?"

"Nope," she says, shaking her head. "I'm good."

“Great. Then, we can go," he announces, and he steps around Rex, heading towards one of the gunships. “Come on, Goldie. It's time to meet your men."

"You heard him. Let's go," Ahsoka says, nudging your arm.

"Right," you mutter, and you follow after her, your steps slow and measured. You glance over at Rex as he falls into step beside you. He's silent, his mouth turned down, and he keeps his eyes forward, his gaze straight ahead.

You want to speak. To tell him that you're sorry. To tell him that you missed him. To tell him how much you've thought about him. But, you can't. Not here. Not with Ahsoka and Anakin. So, you remain silent, your throat closing, a tightness forming in your chest.

It's going to be a long day.

The four of you climb aboard, and Anakin settles into his seat, leaning back, his feet propped up. Ahsoka plops down next to him, pulling out her datapad and tapping away. You take a seat across from them, and Rex sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. You suck in a sharp breath at the contact, and your heart leaps, a tingle running down your spine.

Rex glances at you, his eyes locking onto yours, and a wave of emotions hit you. Concern. Relief. Confusion. Frustration.

He's upset with you. He has every right to be.

But, he doesn't move away. He doesn't pull back.

His body remains still, pressed against yours, his thigh rubbing against your own.

And, even though it's wrong, and you shouldn't, even though Anakin and Ahsoka are sitting right there, even though everyone is watching, you lean into him slightly, savoring his touch.

He sighs, and his hand brushes your knee as he adjusts his position. It’s a brief touch, enough to be considered accidental, and he quickly pulls his hand away, placing it on his lap. His thumb rubs circles on his palm, and his fingers flex, stretching, and then relaxing, again and again.

You try to keep your attention on Anakin, listening as he continues his story. But it's impossible. Your eyes keep drifting to Rex, taking in every detail, every movement. Every twitch. Every shift.

After a few minutes, his hand drops to his side, landing on his leg. He stretches his arm out, and his fingers brush your hand, his knuckles grazing your skin.

You look at him out of the corner of your eye. He's still looking forward, his face expressionless.

Without thinking, your hand reaches out and closes around his. You give it a quick squeeze, and then, before he can react, you pull away.

You wait for a response. A signal. A sign. Something. Anything. But nothing comes.

The ride is short. Too short. Before you're ready, the ship is descending, the engine powering down as the landing gear touches down. The doors open, and Anakin and Ahsoka rush out, both eager to escape the tense atmosphere of the gunship.

Rex stands at the same time as you, but he waits until you're in front of him before moving towards the door. His hand lands on your lower back, guiding you, and a thrill shoots through your body, sending goosebumps up your spine. The unexpected touch nearly forces you to stumble when you step out of the ship, your boot hitting a raised portion of the gangway. You catch yourself, and Rex grabs your elbow, steadying you, his hand lingering for a moment before releasing you.

"You okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah," you mutter, and your eyes dart around, taking in the hangar. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he murmurs, his tone flat. You glance at him, and his jaw is clenched, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

He's upset.

You can feel the tension between the two of you, and you can't tell if he's mad, or frustrated, or hurt, or what.

All you know is that it's your fault.

Rex moves forward, and you fall into step beside him, walking in silence. The air is cool and crisp, and it smells faintly of fuel, a pungent, acidic smell that hangs in the recycled air. The hangar is busy, full of clones rushing about, performing maintenance and loading supplies. There are gunships, shuttles, and dozens of fighter ships parked in neat rows, all waiting to be used. It's a sight you're still not used to, and the thought of soon having not just one, but three such ships at your disposal as soon as you reach Kamino is almost overwhelming.

Anakin leads the way, his long strides quickly bringing him to the end of the hangar, and Ahsoka is close behind, her head turning this way and that, taking in the activity. You follow, and Rex walks beside you, keeping his distance, his hands folded behind his back. The four of you wind through the hangar, weaving between groups of clones, all of them wearing their distinctive blue and white armor. A few nod or wave as the group passes by, their helmets tucked under their arms, but most ignore the Jedi and carry on with their work, focused on their tasks.

Once you're through the hangar doors and inside the main corridor, the crowds thin, and Rex slows, his hand reaching out to grasp your elbow. Anakin looks over his shoulder and nods, and he and Ahsoka keep moving, leaving the two of you alone in the empty hall.

You come to a stop and turn to face him, and his fingers slide down before falling away.

"General," Rex starts, his voice formal and stiff. His shoulders are squared, and his arms are locked at his sides. "It's good to see you again, sir. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters."

Your brow furrows in confusion, but you try not to let it show. It's not your first time on the ship, far from it, and the walk to the quarters is one you've taken many times before. Still, you follow after him, matching his pace, keeping a small distance between the two of you.

As you walk, you steal small glances at him, taking in the way his hand is twitching, the way his fingers are drumming against his leg. You can tell he wants to say something as much as you do, and you try to think of a way to start the conversation, to break the ice, but nothing comes to mind, and the two of you remain quiet until Rex lets out a small sigh and clasps his hands behind his back.

"So," he says finally, his voice low. "I heard about your promotion. Congratulations."

You grimace and duck your head. "Thanks. It...wasn't what I expected."

"It rarely is," he agrees. He pauses and turns his head, meeting your gaze. His expression softens, his brow furrowing, and his tone turns gentle. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," you answer. You bite the inside of your cheek and look away, breaking eye contact. "It's fine."

"No," he says firmly. His voice is filled with frustration, and his hand shoots out, grabbing yours and squeezing tightly, pulling you to a stop. "I'm not asking about the damn promotion. I'm asking how you are."

Your heart skips, and you can't help but stare, caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor. You open your mouth, about to reply, when a group of clones passes by, their footsteps echoing off the metal floors. Rex lets go of your hand and steps back, returning their salutes with a nod, and you do the same, your mind racing, your body frozen in place.

When the last clone passes, his hand moves to the small of your back, pressing against it as he guides you forward. His touch is firm, but gentle, and he keeps his pace slow, letting you set the speed, matching his steps to yours.

"You should've commed," he murmurs.

"I know," you mumble. Your throat is tight, and you swallow, forcing yourself to continue. "I'm sorry. I should have. I know."

"What happened?" he asks, barely audible. His eyes scan the empty hall, making sure no one is around. When he's satisfied, he continues. "I was worried about you."

"You don't have to worry," you insist.

"Yeah," he scoffs. "That's not going to happen. No matter how much you want it to."

"Rex," you protest, and your stomach twists, a pang of guilt shooting through your chest. "You don't...you shouldn't...I mean, it's not..." You trail off, unable to find the right words, and your hands move to your belt, fiddling with the hilt of your lightsaber.

"Not what?" he presses. "It's not my business? Not my problem?"

"No. Yes," you mutter. You shake your head and take a deep breath, gathering yourself. "I don't know."

He watches you, his eyes scanning your face, taking in every detail. He sighs and shakes his head, his hand dropping away to activate the panel outside the lift. The doors open with a hiss and he waits, motioning for you to enter first.

You hesitate, and his hand reaches out, brushing against your hip, urging you forward. You step inside, and he follows, the door sliding shut behind him. His thumb presses the button for your floor, and the elevator begins to rise, the cables whirring softly.

"I know I don't have to," he says finally, his voice low and rough. He looks away, staring at the wall. "I know that. I don't care."

"You should," you argue weakly. "You should care."

"Well, I don't," Rex counters. His head turns, and his eyes lock onto yours, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You should know that by now."

"Yeah, I guess I should."

You hold his gaze for a moment before looking away, unable to handle the intensity of his stare. Your hand returns to your belt, fidgeting with the hilt of your lightsaber, and a heavy silence falls over the lift, the only sound coming from the machinery as the elevator continues its slow ascent.

"I...I'm sorry," you say finally. "For worrying you. For making you worry."

"It's okay," he replies softly.

"It's not," you counter. Your hands clench into fists at your sides and your gaze moves to the floor. "It's not. You're...you're important. You didn't deserve that. Any of it. I should've called. I should've checked in. I should've—"

"Hey," he interrupts, and his hand lands on your arm, his fingers gripping your bicep, pulling you toward him. "It's okay."

You turn toward him, and his hands slide to your shoulders, holding you firmly, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles through the thick material of your tunic. Rex's head dips down to meet your gaze, and his eyes move across your face, searching.

"It's okay," Rex repeats softly. His eyes flick down and then up again, and a small smile tugs at his lips, his fingers squeezing gently. "I'm glad you're back."

You nod and force a small smile, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace. You hesitate and then return the gesture, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in, the familiar scent filling your lungs, calming you. His hand moves up and down your back, rubbing it soothingly, and his cheek rests against the side of your head, his lips brushing against your hair.

"I missed you," you whisper, the words barely audible. It's the first time you've said them aloud, the first time you've allowed yourself to admit them, even to yourself, and you cling to him, savoring the warmth of his body, the comfort of his touch.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Me too."

Your heart leaps, and you pull away, looking up at him, taking in the softness of his expression, the tenderness in his eyes. A lump forms in your throat, a sudden sense of vulnerability washing over you.

"Rex," you start, and the rest of your words die on your tongue. You swallow, trying to speak, but nothing comes out, and your mouth snaps shut.

The elevator door slides open, and the moment is gone. Rex jerks away and takes a quick step back, putting distance between the two of you, and you take a steadying breath, willing yourself to calm down. The hallway is empty, but there's no telling who might be lurking around the corner, and you can't risk anyone seeing the two of you like this.

Rex steps out into the hall and looks back, checking to make sure you're following. You nod, and he moves ahead, leading the way, his hands once again clasped behind his back.

"I have your new quarters set up," he says as you fall into step beside him. "General Skywalker and Commander Tano will be down the hall, but you'll have some privacy. I thought you would appreciate that."

"Yeah," you mumble. "Thank you."

"They're not as nice as the ones you had before," he continues. His tone is flat, and he keeps his gaze fixed forward, not once glancing at you. "But, they're functional."

"I'm sure they're perfect," you assure him.

"Right," he nods. "Anyway, there's a briefing packet in your quarters. It has everything you'll need to know about your new command. I know it's a lot, but I'll be here to answer any questions you have."

"Very thoughtful of you," you say, a small smile playing on your lips. "I didn't think you could get any more organized."

He snorts and gives you a sideways glance. "Well, someone around here has to be."

You laugh, and the tension eases, the two of you slipping back into the familiar rhythm of banter and teasing, the same way you've done countless times before. You can't help but notice that there's an underlying sense of something more beneath the surface, an intimacy that's not quite the same as it was before. But it's subtle enough to be easily disregarded, and the two of you make small talk, discussing the ship, the crew, the new assignments, the upcoming battle on Bothawui. It's a pleasant distraction from the stress of your current situation, and by the time the two of you reach your rooms, you're almost relaxed. Almost.

Rex opens the door, and you step inside, taking in the space. It's a simple room, furnished with a bed, a small table and chair, and a built-in closet. It's not as large as your last room, but the large window that spans the wall more than makes up for any perceived lack of space. It's a stunning view, and you walk toward it, peering out at the stars and ships that fill the vastness of space above Coruscant.

"What do you think?" Rex asks from behind you. His voice is hesitant, and you can feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting.

"It's beautiful, Rex."

"Good," he says, relief evident in his tone. "I'm glad."

"You know me so well," you joke, and he laughs, a low rumble that sends a shiver through you. You turn and smile at him over your shoulder, and he smiles back, his expression softening.

"I try," he chuckles. His smile fades, and his gaze moves around the space, his posture stiffening. "There's, uh, also some paperwork for you. On the desk."

"Right," you mutter, and you move to cross the room towards the desk. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he says quietly.

You've only taken a step before you still, your eyes falling on a bottle of wine sitting next to a stack of datapads, and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The bottle is tall and slender, the glass a deep green, and a card is placed neatly in front of it, your name written across the front in a familiar scrawl.

"Rex," you start slowly, a note of amusement in your tone. "Why is there wine on my table?"

"Ah," he mumbles, and he rubs the back of his neck, his shoulders hunching. "I...may have had something to do with that."

You turn to face him, and his face is red, his eyes darting everywhere but at you. A laugh bubbles up, and you cover your mouth, trying to hold it back, but a small giggle escapes, and Rex's face falls, a crease forming on his forehead.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

"You," you snort.

"Me?" he replies, his tone incredulous. He shakes his head, his lips pursing, and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I knew this was a bad idea. I should've—"

"No," you cut him off. Your hand reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him toward you, and you smile at him, a warm feeling filling your chest. "I'm not laughing at you. I promise. It's just...so sweet. No one's ever given me anything like that before."

"Really?" he says skeptically. "I can't believe that."

"Well, it's true," you assure him, and he relaxes, his features softening. You let go of his arm and glance at the wine, a wave of fondness washing over you. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he murmurs. He shifts awkwardly and clears his throat. "I was worried it would be too much. But I figured you'd need it. To celebrate."

"Or to drown my sorrows," you counter dryly, and Rex scoffs and shakes his head.

"Maybe both," he says, his tone playful.

"Definitely both," you reply, and he grins, his head ducking, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

The two of you stand in comfortable silence, and your eyes meet his, a warm tingle running through your body at the intensity of his gaze. Rex swallows and clears his throat, his hand reaching up to adjust the collar of his shirt.

"I should, uh, leave. Let you get settled," he says. His eyes move to the door, and his head turns slightly, his shoulders stiffening. "If you need anything, just comm me. I'll see you at the briefing later."

"Of course," you nod, and he steps back, heading for the door. When he reaches it, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder at you. You can see the conflict in his eyes. You know what he's feeling, and it's the same thing you're feeling. It's a question. And it's one you're not sure how to answer.

"Rex."

His brow furrows, his head turning to face you. You take a deep breath, summoning your courage, and speak before you can second-guess yourself.

“You’re not going to make me drink alone, are you?”

His eyes widen in surprise, and he blinks once, twice, before breaking out into a small smile, a light chuckle leaving his lips.

"No, sir. I wouldn't dream of it," he says, the teasing lilt in his tone bringing a smile to your face. "I'll uh, come by after the briefing. We can...talk. If that's okay."

"Yeah," you breathe. "That's okay."

Rex nods and gives you a quick grin before disappearing out the door. As soon as he's gone, your smile disappears, and your shoulders slump, the weight of your responsibilities hitting you all at once. It's been a long week. One of the worst weeks of your life, and you're exhausted, your mind racing, your emotions stretched thin. But the thought of spending more time with Rex is a welcome distraction, and it helps take the edge off, giving you something to look forward to.

You walk over to the desk and pick up the card, studying the handwriting on the front. It's a simple message, written in bold, blocky letters, but the sight of his handwriting brings a smile to your face, and you open the card, reading the brief message inside.

Congratulations. You deserve this.

Yours,

Rex

The words make your heart flutter, and a wave of affection washes over you, making you feel light-headed and giddy. You've never seen him write, never known he could, and the thought of him sitting down, taking the time to put these words down on flimsi, fills you with an overwhelming sense of tenderness.

It's not the first time he's made you feel this way, but it's the first time he's done it knowingly, and the realization sends a rush of heat through your body, a tingling sensation running through you, making your heart race and your palms sweat. It's a feeling you've felt before, a feeling you've tried to ignore, and you've always pushed it down, buried it, pretended like it didn't exist.

But, it does. And now, the thought of him coming back later, the thought of being alone with him, fills you with an excitement and anticipation you haven't felt in a long time.

You want to be with him. You've wanted to be with him for months. And if you're honest with yourself, a part of you has always known it would come to this. The two of you have been growing closer for months, spending more and more time together, and it's gotten to the point where it's difficult to imagine your life without him in it. You've found yourself thinking about him constantly, wondering what he's doing, worrying about him, and every time he walks into a room, your stomach flutters, and your heart pounds, and a surge of affection rushes through you, making you dizzy and breathless and stupid, and—

“Force,” you mutter. You drop the card on the desk and place a hand on your forehead, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. This isn't the time for this. You're supposed to be figuring out how to run an entire fleet of starships and troops and a thousand other things that require your full attention. This isn't the time to get lost in fantasies or wishful thinking.

But, even as you think it, a part of you doesn't care.

You’ve already proven yourself a failure when it comes to focusing on the important things. Why stop now?

With a frustrated sigh, you drop your pack on the bed and open it, taking out the clothes you’d hastily packed the day before. Everything is wrinkled, and a few pieces are torn, a reminder of how stressed you'd been. You can't help but roll your eyes and mutter a string of curses under your breath. You've spent an entire week on edge, and the last thing you need is to start your journey off with a reminder of how truly unstable you are.

With a shake of your head, you quickly fold the items and place them in the empty drawers, smoothing out the wrinkles and straightening the edges. It doesn't take long, and you're done within minutes, the only item left is Yaddle’s lightsaber.

Your fingers run over the cool metal, the engraved symbols rough beneath your skin. You lift it, holding it up to the light, studying the intricate designs. It's a beautiful piece, and a sense of calm settles over you, a faint buzzing sensation traveling up your arms and spreading throughout your body.

For the first time since the meeting with the Council, you can finally breathe.

It's not the end of the world.

You have a plan. And even though it's a bit crazy, even though it's more than a bit complicated, and even though there are a thousand ways for everything to go wrong, it's a start. A solid beginning.

And that's enough.

You turn and place the lightsaber on the desk, next to the wine bottle, and a small smile crosses your face. The sight of them together is strange, but comforting, and you can't help but laugh. Rex has a habit of bringing out the unexpected in you, and the fact that he's managed to do it even in your darkest moments is something you'll never stop being grateful for.

"Oh," you mutter.

That's a dangerous thought.

With a deep sigh, you check your appearance in the mirror and head to the briefing, doing your best not to think about what might happen later.

Later turns out to be after dinner.

The meeting is long and exhausting, and by the time the briefing ends, you're ready for a shower and a bed. But, Anakin and Ahsoka are still going over the battle plans, and there's no way you're going to interrupt them. So, you take a seat beside Rex, listening, adding a comment here and there, until finally, the meeting ends and everyone disperses, heading off to get some rest.

Rex stands and stretches, and the two of you make small talk, exchanging pleasantries and discussing the upcoming mission. But when the room is empty, and the two of you are alone, he glances at you and tilts his head toward the door, his eyebrow raising in a silent question. You nod, and he leads the way, guiding you back to your quarters, the two of you walking in silence.

The ship is quiet and dimly lit, the lights in the hallways turned down for the night cycle. It reminds you of the last time the two of you walked the Resolute’s halls toward your quarters. Much has changed since he escorted you back from the medbay that night, but the small glances and subtle touches are still the same, and the familiarity makes you smile, a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

When the two of you arrive at your room, Rex stops and waits for you to enter first. You press the keypad and step inside, and he follows, the door sliding shut behind him. Once the door closes, he takes a deep breath and rubs his face, and the exhaustion hits you at the same time, a heavy weariness settling in your bones. The stress and strain of the past few days has caught up with both of you, and the two of you look at each other, both letting out a tired laugh.

"Long day," he says with a rueful smile.

"Very long," you agree.

You move to the closet and hang up your outer robe, and Rex stands still in the center of the room. His posture is stiff, and you can tell he's nervous, his thoughts racing, his fingers drumming against his knee.

He's not the only one.

“I’m going to go change into something more comfortable," you tell him as you slip off your boots and toss them in the closet. "Why don't you open the wine?"

"Uh, sure," he mutters, and he clears his throat, nodding to himself. "Yeah, I can do that."

"I'll be right back," you say, and you disappear into the small refresher, closing the door behind you.

You lean against the sink and stare at yourself in the mirror, taking in your messy hair, the bags under your eyes, the way your face is drawn and pale. You're a mess. No wonder he's acting so skittish. He's probably terrified of what you'll do next. Or say.

With a deep sigh, you splash water on your face and change, the sound of a cork being removed reaching your ears. By the time you've changed and stepped back out, Rex has opened the bottle, leaving it on the desk. He's standing at the window, watching the blue-white streaks of hyperspace passing by the ship, his back to you.

You walk over and stop next to him, glancing at his face, taking in the sharp angles and strong lines, the stubble along his jaw, the crease between his brows, the slight downward turn of his mouth. His expression is a mix of concentration and uncertainty, and you can tell he's deep in thought, trying to find the right words.

"Hey," you murmur, and he starts slightly. His gaze moves to yours and his expression softens, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Hey," he says softly. His gaze moves down and then up, his eyes lingering on your face before they flick back to the stars. "Nice view."

"Yeah," you agree. "It is."

"How are you doing?" he asks. His voice is low and hesitant, and his brow furrows, his lips pursed. "I mean...you know."

"I'm fine," you reply automatically.

"Don't lie," he says, his tone gentle, but firm.

"What am I supposed to say?" you mutter. Your hands move to your belt, fiddling with the buckle. "That I'm pissed? That I'm disappointed? That I'm embarrassed? Because I am."

"I get that," he says, and he turns, leaning his hip against the window, his head turning to face you. His shoulders are hunched, and his arms are crossed, and he's looking at you intently, his eyes scanning your face. "Do you want to tell me what happened? With the Council?"

"Not really," you admit. "It was stupid. I was stupid. I said some things. Made some assumptions. It's done."

"Assumptions?" he repeats.

"Nothing important," you say dismissively. The bottle of wine sitting open on your desk suddenly seems much more appealing than before, and you move toward it, searching for the right words to explain what happened.

"It was..." You trail off, trying to think of the best way to describe it, and then give up, shaking your head. "A disaster."

"A disaster?" he repeats, a note of concern in his tone. He turns fully to face you, his eyes searching your face, his lips pursed. "What did they do?"

"Nothing," you mutter. Your hand reaches out and grips the edge of the desk, steadying yourself. "They didn't do anything. It was like all the evidence we gathered didn't even matter, and I was just wasting their time."

"They didn't listen to you," he says slowly. It's a statement, not a question, and his face is grim, his expression tense. "About Dooku."

"No, they didn't," you agree. You open your desk drawer in search of two cups and take out the ones inside. They're simple, metal mugs, but they'll work well enough for the wine. You'd drink it straight from the bottle if you could, but the thought of Rex watching you do that makes you cringe. “And I didn’t react well."

Rex's eyebrows shoot up, and he watches you, his head tilting to one side. "How badly?"

You don’t respond, your eyes focused on filling the cups with wine. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, and a flush rises to your cheeks, shame and guilt and frustration swirling inside you. You set the bottle down and grab the glasses, moving toward the window, trying to avoid the question.

"How badly?" he repeats, his voice rising slightly, his tone demanding.

"Not well," you admit. "I got a little angry."

"A little?" he snorts.

"Okay, maybe more than a little," you mutter, and a small laugh leaves his lips. You turn to look at him and roll your eyes. "It's not funny."

"Sorry," he chuckles. He steps toward you and takes one of the cups. His thumb rubs over the top of the glass, and his eyebrows raise in amusement. "You have a temper. That's not exactly news to me."

"I do not," you protest, and his eyebrows rise higher, his head shaking in disbelief. "I don't!"

"Sure," he smirks.

"I don't," you insist, and he laughs again. You glare at him and let out a huff. "Fine, I do, but not...not like this."

"So, what did you do?" he asks, his expression softening, his tone becoming more serious.

"I yelled," you admit, and a grimace twists your face. "I, uh, yelled at them quite a bit, actually. Obi-Wan had to drag me out of there."

Rex's jaw drops open slightly, his eyes widening, and you look away. A hot flush of shame creeps over you at the memory of it and everything that followed. Of how quickly you lost control of yourself. Of the fear and panic and desperation that had driven you to such an extreme reaction. Of the way they looked at you afterward.

"Wow," Rex mutters.

"Yeah," you agree.

"That's..." He trails off and takes a deep breath. He turns his head toward the window and stares out into space, his hand gripping his cup tightly. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," you murmur. You swallow hard, and the room falls silent, the only sound coming from the hum of the ship's engines. "I've been an ass lately."

"Don't say that," he argues.

"It's true," you shrug. "I've been an ass to everyone. Even you. And you didn't deserve that."

"I wasn't upset," he says quietly. His hand reaches out and covers yours, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go, and the familiar touch sends a shiver up your spine. "I just didn't know what to do. Or how to help."

"There wasn't anything you could've done," you tell him. Your hands grip the cup tightly, your knuckles turning white. "I was...I'm a mess. I am a mess."

"You're not a mess," he argues. He lets out a frustrated sigh and turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours, his expression earnest. "You're stressed. And worried. And overwhelmed. And it's understandable. Anyone would be."

"Maybe," you concede.

"I'm sorry about Yaddle," he says after a moment. "That must've been tough."

"Yeah," you say slowly. Your voice is thick, and a lump forms in your throat, a wave of grief washing over you. You try to ignore it, pushing it down, focusing on the conversation, but the tears come anyway, stinging the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. You wipe them away with the back of your hand and force a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Of course," he says softly.

"She would've liked you," you tell him. The tears continue to fall, and you swipe at them, sniffling loudly, and his hand rests on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. You glance at him and manage a shaky smile. "She would’ve liked you a lot."

"I hope so," he murmurs. His fingers trail down your arm and then drop away, and he clears his throat, taking a step back. He holds up his cup and lifts his eyebrow. "Should we drink to her?"

"Absolutely," you chuckle.

"To Master Yaddle," he says solemnly.

"To Master Yaddle," you repeat.

The two of you clink your glasses together and drink deeply. It’s…well, it’s not the best wine you've ever had, but it's not bad, and the warmth spreads through your body, easing the tension in your muscles and dulling the ache in your bones. You watch as Rex makes a valiant effort to hide his distaste, but the sour look on his face is enough to bring a laugh to your lips.

"It's, uh, not bad,” he mutters.

"Liar," you snort. You take another sip of your own and feel your nose wrinkle, the bitter taste coating your tongue. "Force, that's awful."

"Yeah," he nods, and his face twists into a grimace, a shiver running through him. "Sorry. I shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

"No, it's okay," you assure him. "I appreciate the effort. Really."

"I'll remember to buy some real alcohol next time," he says, and his smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He takes another sip and shudders, a groan escaping his lips. "Ugh, no. That's terrible. Why would anyone drink this?"

"Because it's cheap and effective," you tell him. Your own face screws up as the harsh flavor hits your tongue, and you take a large gulp, doing your best to hide your discomfort. "Keep drinking. It'll get better."

"It'll get worse," he corrects. His expression is skeptical as he peers at the wine, eyeing the dark liquid. "Did I buy you...poison?"

"No," you reply with a laugh. "But it'll certainly feel like it in the morning."

"Wonderful," he drawls, and you can't help but grin, his dry sarcasm sending a rush of affection through you. He looks over at your sofa and sighs. "I'm going to need to sit down for this."

"Same," you agree, and you move to settle on the couch in front of the window, grabbing the bottle as you go. Rex follows and sits next to you, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. A safe amount of distance. Just enough to remind you both where the line is. That you're not supposed to cross it. Not even now.

"So," Rex starts. He takes another sip and his face pinches. "How did things end with the Council? Did you...did you get any answers?"

"No," you admit, taking a sip of your own and fighting back a shudder. "They just kept telling me to calm down."

"And then what happened?"

You give him a wry smile and drain your cup, setting it on the table next to the sofa before leaning back, letting the alcohol hit you fully. It’s been a while since you drank, and you can already feel the effects, a light buzzing in your head, the tension in your body fading away. "Then I fought with Obi-Wan and locked myself in my room for a week. But other than that, things went great."

"You fought with Kenobi" he says slowly. His eyes widen, and his head turns, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Why would you do that?"

"Because he was being a dick," you reply sharply. The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and Rex stares at you, his brow furrowing, his lips pressing together into a thin line. You sigh and shake your head. "Sorry. It's just...during the meeting, he didn’t stand up for me. And he was acting like he knew what was best for me."

"And did he?"

"No," you mutter, and Rex raises an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on your face. "Well, maybe. I don't know. It was hard, experiencing that again. I think we tried to pretend that nothing had changed, but things did. Things are different. I'm different."

"Yeah," Rex says quietly. He sets his cup on the table and leans back, his gaze fixed on the stars outside the window. "I know what you mean."

You study his face, taking in the lines and angles, the creases in his forehead, the faint shadows beneath his eyes. He looks tired. He looks worn. And you know it's not just from today. It's everything that's happened since the start of the war. It's every battle he's fought. Every sacrifice he's made. It's been a long year. For all of you. But for him especially.

"How are you?" you ask. The question seems ridiculous when asked aloud. Of course he's not okay. None of you are. But you have to ask. You have to know. "Really."

"I'm fine," he says.

"Really?"

"No," he sighs. His shoulders slump, and his eyes close. He tilts his head back and lets out a ragged breath. "No, not really."

"I didn't think so," you murmur, and a grimace twists his face, his brow furrowing deeply, a deep sigh leaving his lips. His hand reaches up, rubbing his face, and he shakes his head, his eyes opening, staring straight ahead, unseeing, his thoughts miles away, somewhere far beyond the view of the stars that surround you.

"It's been a long year," he mutters, and you nod, unable to find the right words. "A very long year."

"Yeah," you murmur in agreement.

The silence falls between the two of you once more, the tension returning as the reality of the situation sets in. This isn't a happy reunion between friends, or a fun night out with co-workers. This is a soldier and a Jedi, two people who have known each other for months, have been fighting side by side for almost a year, and have shared more than either of them could have imagined.

This is something else.

"It'll be okay," you finally say. You’re not sure if you believe it, and you’re not one for empty reassurances, but it seems like the thing to say, and Rex looks at you, the corners of his mouth turning up in a weak smile.

"Yeah," Rex nods. "I know. We'll figure it out."

"We will," you say confidently. You reach out and cover his hand with yours. Your fingers trace the outline of his knuckles underneath his glove, and you squeeze his hand. "We always do."

"I wish things were different," he mutters. His voice is rough, his tone heavy, and your chest aches, the weight of his words hitting you. He swallows and turns his hand, his palm pressing against yours. His thumb runs over your knuckles, and he sighs, his fingers squeezing yours gently. "I wish a lot of things were different."

"Me too," you whisper, and his hand moves away, slipping out from under yours.

Your palm feels cold without his touch, and you resist the urge to reach out, to take his hand in yours again, and pull it back to where it belongs. Where you want it to be. But you don't. Instead, you reach for the wine, pouring yourself another glass, doing your best to ignore the hollow feeling in your stomach.

"I can't believe you gave me wine," you tease, and he snorts, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Me either," he admits. He shakes his head, his gaze returning to yours. "But I figured you'd need it."

"How are you so nice?"

You don't mean to say it aloud, but the words slip out, and you flush, embarrassed by your question. Rex laughs and gives you a small shrug, his lips curving up into a sheepish smile.

"I'm not," he chuckles. His head tilts to the side and he studies you, his expression thoughtful. "It's easy to be nice when it's you."

"That's..." you trail off, not quite sure how to respond.

"It's the truth," he says simply.

"Right," you nod. You take a deep breath and turn your gaze to the stars, the familiar sight of hyperspace giving you a sense of comfort, of safety. “Well, I’m lucky to have you then."

"Yeah," he murmurs, and when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his eyes sparkling, and a small laugh escapes his lips. "You are."

You let out a huff and elbow him in the ribs, and he laughs louder, his hands shooting up, holding them in front of his chest defensively.

“I can’t believe you. I’m trying to be nice!” you say indignantly.

"Nice," Rex scoffs. He rolls his eyes and drains his glass, his shoulders shaking with mirth, and the sight makes you smile, a warm, tingling sensation rushing through you. “Since when are you nice?"

"Always," you say with a dramatic huff. You stick your nose in the air and take a sip of your wine, glaring at him over the top of your cup.

"Not always," he snickers. "Remember the first time we met?"

“Not this again,” you groan, and his grin widens, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. You can't help but roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Fine. Yes. I wasn't nice."

"That’s an understatement," he laughs. He shakes his head and pours another glass of wine, filling it to the brim, his head turning to look at you. "I thought you were going to stab me."

"I still might," you retort dryly. Rex snorts and lifts the cup to his lips, drinking deeply. You watch as his throat bobs, a flush rising to his cheeks. When he lowers his cup, his expression is somber, his smile fading, and he clears his throat, shifting slightly on the sofa.

“You were the first Jedi I’d ever met," he says quietly. His fingers run over the rim of his cup, his gaze focused on the liquid inside, his brow furrowed. "The first human outside of the trainers I’d ever met, actually. And you were...not what I expected."

"Oh?" you prompt. You can't help but wonder what he's thinking. What he's feeling. The two of you have grown close, have become good friends, but there's a part of him that's always been guarded, a part of him that's kept hidden, and it's those parts of him that interest you the most.

"You were so..." Rex trails off, his eyes flicking to yours. He takes a deep breath and holds your gaze. "Stubborn. And angry. You were furious. At everyone and everything."

"I was," you admit.

"I didn't know what to make of you," he says slowly. He shifts closer, his body angling towards yours. "You were so different from what I was expecting. I was told about the Jedi. About how wise and kind and serene they were. And then I met you."

"And?"

"And I thought you were crazy," he replies.

You let out a small laugh and take another drink. You'd had your own opinions about him when the two of you first met, and while his assessment of your personality isn't wrong, it's not entirely accurate either. You were scared and confused, and you took it out on him. It wasn't fair. To either of you. But you've learned a lot since then. About the war. About yourself. About him.

"Maybe I am," you say lightly. Rex chuckles and shakes his head.

"You're not crazy," he corrects. "You're...passionate."

"Is that a nice way of saying stubborn?" you tease. Rex smiles and lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. "You were just as bad."

"Yeah," he nods.

"You were rude," you say pointedly. "And sarcastic. And infuriating."

"Sorry," he mutters.

"I liked it," you add, and he looks at you in surprise, his eyebrows raising. You smirk and tilt your head to the side. "You didn’t take any of my shit, and you were funny. I liked that."

"Really?"

"Yes," you insist. You take another sip and try to keep your tone even, to hide the excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside you. "I still do."

"I'm glad," he says quietly. There's an undercurrent of something else in his tone. Something deeper and darker and more complicated than anything the two of you have talked about. His eyes move to the wine and then back to you, a hint of regret flickering across his features. "I wasn't trying to insult you. I was just...I wasn't prepared."

"For me?"

"For you," he confirms. He drains his glass and sets it on the table next to the sofa. His hand falls to his lap, and he stares down at it, his fingers tapping restlessly against his leg. "I'd never met anyone like you before."

"What does that mean?" you ask. He glances at you, his eyes narrowing, and a hint of a smile crosses his face.

"You were..." He trails off, and his expression turns thoughtful, his eyes drifting away from yours, his gaze fixed on some distant memory. "You were fearless. You didn't care what anyone thought. You were strong and determined and fierce. And I..."

He breaks off and shakes his head. A small chuckle leaves his lips, and his eyes meet yours, the intensity in them making you shiver.

“I was in awe of you,” he says softly. “I thought you were the most incredible person I'd ever seen. And yeah, I thought you were a little scary, but...in a good way."

"Scary?" you repeat, a note of disbelief in your voice, and Rex laughs, his head ducking down, his eyes crinkling. There’s a flush creeping up his neck and he looks up at you, his smile growing wider.

"Terrifying," he says with a laugh. "But not in a bad way."

You snort. "I'm glad.”

"I'm not scared of you anymore," he tells you. His tone is serious, and the humor fades, his expression becoming solemn. "But I am...I'm in awe of you. Still."

"I..." you trail off. His words send a rush of heat through your body, a warm feeling spreading through your veins, and you find yourself staring at him, unable to speak, unable to think. The only thing you seem capable of doing is looking at him and hoping that he understands the things you can't say. Because he has to understand. He has to feel the same way. Doesn't he?

"It's true," he says, his voice low and quiet. "I don't know if I ever told you, but...you saved my life that day. On Geonosis. And...I think I knew then that I would follow you anywhere."

"You didn't have much choice," you point out, and he shakes his head, a small sigh escaping his lips.

"That's not true," he murmurs. "There were plenty of choices. There were a million choices I could've made that day. And none of them involved following you. But I did. Because I wanted to."

His words catch you off guard, and you sit still, staring at him, taking in the sincerity in his voice, the earnestness of his expression, the conviction in his eyes. It's the most honest he's been with you, and you don't know what to say. What to do. How to react.

"Rex," you breathe. You shake your head and force a smile, doing your best to push aside the emotions churning within you. "You're drunk."

“My metabolism is too fast to be drunk on this swill," he snorts, shaking his head. "But even if I was, that doesn't mean it isn't true. I followed you because I wanted to. Because I knew you were someone worth following."

"Even when I'm angry and impulsive and reckless?" you ask wryly. Rex smiles and nods.

"Especially when you're those things," he says, his voice soft and gentle. “You wouldn’t be you otherwise."

You open your mouth to reply and close it, the words sticking in your throat. You turn and stare at him, searching his face, trying to find the right thing to say, the right way to respond, but there's nothing. No words. No clever remarks. No snappy comebacks. Just the overwhelming desire to be close to him.

When you speak again, your voice is shaky, the words barely above a whisper.

"You're too good for me," you say, your eyes dropping to your cup, the wine swirling within it, the deep red liquid reflecting the lights from the stars outside the window. You glance up and find his eyes focused on yours, the tenderness and affection clear in his gaze. "You know that, right?"

"No, I'm not," he murmurs, his tone firm. His fingers brush against your hand, his fingertips trailing along the inside of your wrist, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. "And I know you're not perfect. And that's okay. That's not why I..." He swallows and looks away. "That's not why."

"Why what?" you press. Your heart pounds in your chest, your hands shaking slightly, and Rex shakes his head, his jaw clenching, his expression strained. He reaches for the wine bottle and pours himself another glass, lifting it to his lips, his eyes focused on the stars. You wait for him to speak, but he remains silent, his brow furrowing, his jaw tightening further. "Why what, Rex?"

He lets out a deep sigh and turns back to you, his gaze moving from yours to your lips, and then back again. His eyes are dark and intense, and his voice is low, barely audible.

"You know why," he says quietly.

The words hang in the air between the two of you, the weight of them heavy and thick. There's a part of you that wants to deny it, to pretend that you have no idea what he means, but the other part, the one that's been pushing those thoughts aside since the day the two of you saw each other again, knows exactly what he's saying.

He wants you.

He's wanted you since the beginning.

But, it's more than that, and you know it.

Because, the truth is, you've wanted him too.

You've wanted him since the first time the two of you worked together, since the moment he looked at you, and saw the real you, the version of yourself that's hidden away, locked away behind a mask of anger and arrogance and stubbornness. Since the moment he saw who you really are, and decided he wanted to know more, to know you, to know the person beneath the surface. Since the moment he made you laugh, made you smile, made you feel something besides the darkness and the emptiness that has consumed your life for the past ten years.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His eyes drop to the floor, his shoulders hunching forward, and you can feel the shame radiating off him. He shakes his head, and his cheeks flush, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have...this is stupid. Forget I said anything. It was just...the wine."

"Don't be," you tell him softly.

His head snaps up and he looks at you, his brow furrowing, his lips turning downward.

"What?" he breathes.

"Don't be sorry," you repeat. You take a deep breath and lift your hand, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. "I'm not."

"You're not?" he asks.

"No," you reply as your thumb moves along his jawline, and his eyes flutter shut, a small sigh escaping his lips. “I’m only sorry that we won’t have the chance to do anything about it."

"About what?"

"About us," you murmur. “This new command…there’s no telling how long we'll be apart."

"I know," he says quietly.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes still closed, and his face turns slightly, pressing against the palm of your hand. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and when his eyes open, his gaze meets yours, the intensity in them sending a shiver down your spine.

"Then we should make the most of the time we have left," he says softly. His hand moves up your arm, and his fingers run along your jaw, tracing the line of your cheekbone. His gaze lingers on your lips before returning to yours, and his thumb brushes over your chin, sending a rush of warmth through you

“I don’t know if we should,” you whisper, but your conviction is waning, and your body betrays you, leaning into his touch, craving the feel of his skin against yours. Rex sighs, his fingers moving to the back of your neck, his palm cupping your cheek, his thumb rubbing gently against the soft skin below your ear.

Your head dips toward his, and your foreheads touch, his lips hovering inches from yours. You can feel his breath fanning across your face, and your hands reach out, gripping his armor. Your fingers dig into the material, desperate for some anchor to keep you steady, to keep you from losing control, from surrendering yourself completely to the desire and need that are coursing through your body.

"Neither do I," he admits. His other hand moves up, cradling the side of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. His gaze meets yours, and the conflict and uncertainty are plain on his face. He swallows hard and his lips part slightly. "But...I want to."

"Me too," you confess.

"We should stop," Rex murmurs, his eyes searching yours. "Before things go too far."

"Probably," you agree.

But neither of you move, and his gaze drops to your mouth, his thumb moving along your lower lip, tugging gently. A small gasp escapes your mouth, and his eyes lock onto yours, his lips curving into a slight smile.

"I can't," he breathes.

"I know," you say softly. Your hands slide up his chest, moving to the back of his neck, and his head dips forward, his nose brushing against yours, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip.

There’s a moment of hesitation. A brief second where both of you know that there's no going back. A fleeting moment when the two of you stop and consider what it will mean if you cross the line. If the two of you finally give in and do the thing that you've both wanted for months. A moment where both of you wonder if this is the right choice. If this is the path the two of you should take.

A sudden, heavy lurch of the ship snaps you out of your thoughts and sends both of you crashing to the ground. You fall forward, your hands flying out, catching yourself before your body can slam into the floor. Rex lets out a grunt as he lands beside you, his elbow hitting the ground with a loud thud.

You watch as the blur of blue and white outside your viewport flips to black, a jarring change that leaves you dizzy and disoriented. There's a low whine and a rumble as the engines power down, and the lights flicker once, twice, and then shut off, leaving the two of you in total darkness.

"What the hell?" you mutter, pushing yourself up, squinting at the viewport. Your vision is blurred, and your mind is foggy, and you rub at your eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of what just happened.

Rex groans and sits up, and the two of you fumble in the dark for a few seconds before you call your lightsaber into your hand. The yellow glow from the crystal provides just enough light for the two of you to see each other. Rex's face is grim as he glances around the room.

"Are we under attack?" he asks. You shake your head as you reach out with the Force, searching for any sense of danger, and find none.

"No," you reply. "I don't think so."

"Good," he sighs, and he pushes himself up onto his feet, offering you a hand. You take it and allow him to pull you to your feet. His grip is firm and strong, and he holds your hand for a moment longer than necessary, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver up your arm. “We should—“

There’s another loud thump, and the two of you are thrown sideways, your lightsaber flying from your hands. Rex's arms wrap around your waist, steadying you as you both slam into the wall. You land on top of him with a thud, his hands still wrapped around your hips, his breath coming in short, shallow pants. You look up at him, your faces only inches apart, the sound of his breathing filling the air, his eyes wide and searching.

“That sounded like an explosion," you mutter, your hands braced against his chest. Rex's brow furrows as he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line. "An internal one."

As if in answer, the blare of the klaxons sounds throughout the ship, and the emergency lights flash on, bathing the two of you in a crimson glow.

"Attention. Attention. This is an emergency. All personnel are ordered to proceed immediately to their stations. This is an emergency. All personnel..." The computer repeats the message over and over, and you look up at the speakers, frowning in confusion.

"This can't be good," Rex mutters.

"No," you agree. Your head dips down, and you close your eyes, a deep, uneasy feeling settling in your gut. "No, it's not."

"We need to go," he says quietly, and you nod, taking a step back. His arms move away from your waist, and he hesitates for a moment before he reaches up, cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone, and his expression softens, the tension in his body easing. "Later."

"Later," you echo, and his hand moves to your shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. You watch as he straightens his back, his face growing serious, and he turns and marches towards the door, grabbing his helmet along the way. You take a deep breath and shake yourself, pushing aside the disappointment and frustration and confusion swirling inside you. You can deal with all of that later. Right now, there's work to be done.

You can only hope that whatever is happening isn't as bad as it seems.

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#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #roy writes #event horizon #WOW this chapter was longer than i thought #and i cut a bunch too believe it or not #probably could've split it into two actually but oh well #anyway i love these two more than anything

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