#fives slow burn

[ariadnes-red-thread]

The Last Word: Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE: Burn with Laughter

Prologue [Coming Soon] | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Series Summary: War makes victims of everyone. This is something Mal knows too well. An enlisted civilian medic with the GAR, she's been able to rebuild with her chosen family, the Wolfpack, and she's found some semblance of peace in a shattered galaxy. But a request from the famous Captain Rex and a night out at 79's sends her world spiraling as she transfers from the 104th to the 501st and dives back into a search for answers that she had abandoned a long time ago. 

Mal’s new battalion is in the midst of a struggle of its own, having recently survived the horrors of Umbara. The cruelty of a broken Jedi has eroded the fabric of this close-knit group and left behind scars that are hard to heal. ARC Trooper Fives will do anything to protect his vode, and he's not sure if this new addition can be trusted.

Mal and Fives' struggle to save those they care about comes together in unexpected ways, and they find themselves thrust together in a battle for the future of a galaxy far, far away.

Chapter Summary: After a night out at 79′s, both Mal and Fives have to grapple with their decisions... and any feelings that remain.

Chapter Warnings: Alcohol use, Mentions of sex, Both characters made impaired decisions

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Recommended Listening: Dark Bird by Jake Wesley Rogers (St. Lucia Remix)

A/N: We’re finally here! I’ve spent the last few months obsessing over this series and this man, and I finally feel good enough about it to put my first chapter out into the world. Thank you so so so much to the incredible writer/friend/human @twistedstitcher27 for beta reading! You’re an angel, and your encouragement means the world :) I’ve tagged a few people who showed interest in the preview post but please join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters so I’m not tagging people who don’t want to be tagged! I’m hoping to update every couple of weeks.

Ao3

Join my taglist

The green canopy of Takodana’s forests hung low in the rain. The heavy cascade thrummed against the leaves, plummeting from great heights to splash off of Mal. The falling water landed on her arms, her legs, and even rolled down her forehead in large, fat drops that soaked her to the bone. But the steady stream barely registered in her mind.

She was here again. 

Mal was locked in her body, just as she had been on the day that it happened. She couldn’t move. She stared into two matching pairs of green eyes, begging them to run. Begging for it to be different this time. Still, the order came, as it always did.

“Fire!”

Mal tried to scream. Nothing came out. She tried to fight. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t change what had happened. Not even in her dreams. Mal raised the blaster and aimed.

The morning sun crept across the studio apartment, ready for vengeance. It reached out with gloating first rays to prod its unwitting victim. Mal was already tossing in an uneasy slumber when the intrusion woke her. She tugged the blanket over her head to escape the sudden onslaught of light, but a quiet groan left her parched throat as she realized there was no hiding. Even though sleep was just starting to leave her body, Mal’s temples were already throbbing, an unfriendly reminder that forgetting to close the curtains had been the least of her previous evening’s offenses. With an inner voice that grew louder and louder, she started to curse the woman she had been the night before. 

As she lazed in bed for a moment, the sheet still pulled over her head, visions of the previous night’s celebrations returned one by one. 79’s. The Wolfpack. Her goodbye party. The 104th had come together to send her off and did so with their usual brand of organized chaos. There were fuzzy memories of Sinker buying rounds and rounds of spotchka, Boost trying to drag her to the dancefloor every few songs, and she quietly choked as she remembered a foolish moment where she had challenged the Commander to an arm-wrestling contest. Mal wriggled her shoulder and was almost surprised to find everything intact. Wolffe must have gone easy on her.

A first, she snorted with a slight smirk. 

Not tearing her rotator cuff was the closest that Commander Wolffe would get to being sentimental about Mal’s transfer, but she would take it for the compliment it was. She kept stretching small muscles in her body as she pieced together the rest of the night’s puzzle, the edges frayed by sleep and drink. At least, she thought as she searched for an upside to her current condition; she didn’t have to report to her new posting until the afternoon. There was still plenty of time to sweat out this hangover and put a blurry night behind her. 

Then, one memory struck her, clear and sharp as a bolt of lightning. Mal shot up in bed, spinning to look over her shoulder. In those slowed nanoseconds before she turned, Mal realized she knew exactly what would be there but still prayed that she was wrong.

She wasn’t. A naked man lay beside her with the pale green sheets tossed carelessly over his bare, tan form. The soft morning light glowed golden around him. Memories came back in swelling, unstoppable waves now. They were more than pleasant, brimming with laughter, smiles, and moans. Yet, Mal’s heart began to race, and dread rose from her stomach up to her throat as she traced her way up his sleeping form. Sheer panic finally set in when her eyes fell on his face. He was a clone.

Fuck.

Mal scrambled out of bed, immediately tangling herself in the sheets and plunging to the floor, the durasteel chilly as it smacked against her bare skin. She was naked, she realized, but this new fact didn’t slow her flight. In a moment, she righted herself, fleeing to the fresher though a haze of alarm and sleep that hadn’t quite worn off.

Mal slammed her palm against the fresher door. The hydraulics moved at their usual speed, but every second was a lifetime. Finally, she could slip through the just barely big enough gap. Mal pinned herself to the wall as the door slid shut again behind her. She quickly locked the door after it sealed as if a sheet of durasteel could protect her from her bad decisions. She threw herself over the sink, flipping on the water before gripping the bowl’s edges.

After letting the water run for a moment, Mal cupped her hands under the sink, collecting a pool in her palms. She closed her eyes and splashed the water onto her face with a quick flick of her hands. As soon as the cool liquid met her skin, she sighed. 

Mal let the water run down her face and along her neck in gentle, forgiving paths for a moment before her eyes fluttered open and snapped to the mirror. She glared at the woman staring back at her, loose red hair flying in every direction and green eyes ringed by smeared make-up. She knew better than to sleep with a clone. Mechanics and techs were okay, and, Maker, there was a whole planet of men out there who weren’t in the GAR. No Jedi, no medics, and especially no clones. Those were the rules of engagement.

Amal Darroch, you grade-A idiot, she grumbled to herself as she scowled at her reflection. Kriff a senator next time.

Mal closed her eyes again, raising her hands to rub her pounding temples with her thumbs. The pressure began to soothe her headache. Next, she turned her attention to her breathing. 

In.

She let her mind follow the meandering crystal trail of water that still trickled along her chest.

Out.

Her breathing slowed. There was no reason to panic. She had made a mistake, but it would be okay.

Even as Mal tried to tell herself that, dread still roiled in the pit of her stomach. She knew all of the reasons that sleeping with a clone was a mistake. She was a civilian medic for the GAR, after all. She had served alongside the clones for almost two years now. They were her patients, her coworkers, and, more than anything else, her friends. The 104th was the closest she had to a family. Sleeping with one of their brothers was a line she never wanted to cross.

Then there was the position that the clones found themselves in, trapped in service to a Republic that often saw them as little more than cannon fodder. She knew what it was like to be seen as a pawn, and her privilege as a citizen was something she didn’t take lightly. And then, of course, tied into all of the other reasons, there was Tye. That was still too sore to touch, but it was there, floating lazily at the top of a deep well of memories long submerged.

In. Out.

It would be okay. It had to be. Mal tried to focus on something else. Anything else. 

What was his name again? She wondered, peering through at the memories to see if she could pick out any details. 

One by one, they came back to her as her headache slowly faded. She had been leaving the restroom when another clone, a shiny she figured from the quick glance she had gotten at his armor, had approached her with a little too much enthusiasm and far too much liquor in his system. 

“Hey there, gorge-” He started, his words slurring as drink sloshed out of his glass.

Mal cursed as the brown, sticky liquor met the green silk of her dress. Before she could look up, the trooper’s feet disappeared, and he darted into the crowd. Frowning at the crowd that had swallowed up the poor shiny, Mal called out an apology that missed the ears of the retreating clone. She had overreacted… again. But this was her one nice dress, and she had only pulled it out of her closet because she lost that bet with Sinker.

She sighed. Nice going. With the familiar feeling of guilt settling in her brow, Mal looked around to find a small napkin left on a nearby booth. She sat down as she attempted to wipe at the spreading stain, but the fabric quickly fell apart in her hands. She cursed again.

“Need one of these?”

A clone, his face unmistakable even though he was in civilian clothes, appeared before her. Did he have a face tattoo? Mal strained at the memory. He had brought a towel and a glass of fresh water, sliding into the booth across from her. He apologized for his brother and made her laugh as he shared his own worst pick-up line from his days as a shiny.

“You must be from Coruscant.” He flashed a wide sideways grin, his soft brown eyes twinkling in the neon light.

“What makes you say that?” Mal remembered asking as she smiled up at him. He was wrong, but she was curious about where this was going.

“Because I was searching for love in Alderaan places before you.” 

Mal’s jaw fell open before she began to cackle, her whole body shaking at his terrible pick-up line. The clone’s grin never faltered as he laughed, both at himself and at her reaction.

“That’s the worse line I’ve ever heard.” She finally pulled herself together enough to speak. “Has it ever worked?”

“Not yet, but I’ll keep trying.” The clone chuckled to himself again before he stood and held out a hand. “Now, what would you say to a dance? It’ll help your dress dry.”

“Now that’s actually the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.” Mal raised an eyebrow, considering the clone’s outstretched hand for a moment. 

“Did it work?” His grin crept out a little bit wider. 

As an answer, Mal reached out and claspered his rough palm with her own. She laughed again and then, as he had led her to the dance floor, found she never stopped laughing. As the night wore on, it was as though she’d been strapped to a speeder, along for a ride with this wild pilot. His boldness permeated everything he did. She’d never met someone more comfortable in their own skin. 

Transported away from her hangover and her bathroom and back to 79’s, Mal recalled how she had moved with him to the music and the jokes they had shared, lips pressed to ears on the thunderous dance floor. He had pulled a wildness out of her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Last night, the heaviness of the war and the tragedies that came with it were gone, and there was only this man.  Whether he was sweeping her off her feet on the dance floor or charmingly antagonizing the poor cabbie that brought them home, the world around them was a blur, and the only thing in focus was him.

Then there was the sex. The more Mal tugged at the memories of the night before, the more she remembered just how great the sex had been. Strong hands coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of her, those same hands on her hips as pleasure entered her from behind, her touch on his rippling core as she rode him, soft kisses, hungry kisses, and eventually, being pulled into strong arms as they both collapsed in perfect, exhausted bliss.

She still couldn’t remember his kriffing name, though.

Mal took another slow, measured breath as she dried her face with the hand towel. Name or no name, it was time to go out and face this man. It will be okay, she reminded herself again. She could come up with plenty of reasons not to give him her commlink, and there were millions of clones in the GAR. What were the chances she would ever run into this one man again? Mal frowned as she realized that the dread was gone, and instead, an odd ache formed in her chest at the thought.

She brushed the ache aside and all of the memories along with it. There were other problems to worry about. To begin with, she was still naked. Luckily, a sleeveless top, a binder, and compression shorts hung next to the shower from her run yesterday. She quickly pulled them on. With a sigh, she glanced in the mirror one more time. She made one last swipe under her eyes to wipe away the smudged makeup, and then she was ready to face him.

Mal stepped out of the fresher with a tight chest that bordered more on regret now than dread. Regret for what, she wasn’t willing to consider. But, as she glanced around the corners of her small apartment, she was alone. The man was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, loud enough to distract her from the unexpected ache in her heart.

Then he stood up. The clone rose from the ground behind her bed. Mal jumped backward, letting out a cry at his sudden appearance. 

“Sorry, sorry!” He waved his hands in innocence, one of them clutching a boot that he held out towards her in explanation. “Just looking for this guy. Got away from me last night.”

“Oh, no problem!” Mal attempted her most casual tone, although she still clutched at her chest, and her heart was pounding furiously.

The clone was clothed now in vaguely familiar dark pants and a white shirt that hung close to his chest. Despite Mal’s best efforts, she found her eyes tracing over him, admiring the man. He was good-looking, born with the same handsome profile as his brothers. He must have been military or at least ground crew, she guessed, taking in his broad, rugged form. He kept his curly hair closely cropped, just a bit longer than regulation, but it was enough to give him bedhead this morning. A dark goatee cut along his sharp jaw, and a smile danced on his full lips with joy that was reflected in his deep brown eyes. Just above his dark brow, a small “5” was tattooed on his temple.

Five. Fives.

That’s right, Mal remembered. Fives. 

She locked eyes with him, and a flash of a memory of those honeyed pools staring up at her from between her legs made her toes curl.

“So, uh, wild night.” He let out a chuckle as he rubbed his empty hand along the back of his neck, ducking his head just a little as she guessed he had some similar flashbacks. “Can’t say I was in my best form, but I had fun. Hopefully, you did too.”

His look was earnest, and Mal smiled back at him against her better judgment. Fives was as disarming this morning as he had been last night.

“Definitely,” Mal nodded.

She winced as she realized what she had said. It was bad enough that she had broken her rule, but now she was flirting with him again. She wanted to be cold. Mal wanted to make this goodbye painless and quick. But something inside her pushed back. Something wanted to pull Fives back to bed, give him her comm, and beg him for an actual date.

You deserve to be happy.

A familiar voice whispered in the back of her head. The echo was enough to snap her back to reality. No clones. No relationships. One night and she was already losing focus. Seemingly oblivious to the thundering internal dialogue reverberating through her already-pounding head, Fives dropped behind the bed again. This time, he sank to one knee to pull on his last boot.

“I gotta get back to the barracks before my Captain has my ass.” He kept chatting as he tugged on the straps. “It’s always worse when he doesn’t go out with us. Jealous sheb.”

His voice was affectionate as he spoke of his Captain, and Mal relaxed a bit, thinking of her own squad. Fives rose again, fully dressed. With purpose, he stepped around the bed and towards Mal. Her breath caught in her throat at the movement. She froze, afraid of what her body might do if she let it. He stood over her, his wide figure towering above hers. He looked her up and down with a smile that brought a blush to her cheeks. Then Fives let out a quiet sigh.

“Thanks for everything.”

His voice was surprisingly gentle. He swooped down and pressed a soft kiss against Mal’s cheek, his goatee gently tickling the place where it grazed her jawline. Before she could even register the moment, he spun around and made his way to the door. With that unspoken goodbye, Fives was gone.

That was easy, she thought, but she didn’t move as she stared at the sealed door with a frown on her face and a chest still tense with regret.

Fives threw an arm around Tup as he pointed across the bar.

“Her. I want to go home with her.”

“Good luck,” Jesse laughed, his eyebrows wrinkling as he glanced at his vod’s target, or more accurately, the clone sitting next to the woman in question. “Looks like you’ll have to fight your way through Wolffe.”

Fives blew a raspberry in dismissal. Jesse let out another chuckle as Kix caught his eye. The medic tilted his head at Jesse, who nodded back to him. Oblivious to their plotting, Fives brought himself down to his elbows to lean on the bar and gawk across the way. While Fives was distracted, Jesse reached for the full drink in front of the boisterous clone, and with a carefully trained hand, he slid it down the bar to Kix.

“Hey, where’d my drink go?” Fives frowned as he looked around.

Kix shrugged, shooting a smug smile at Tup and Jesse over the top of a fresh glass of Corellian whiskey he was now sipping on.

“Ahh, kriff it. I need to piss.” Fives declared before he launched himself away from the bar.

“Should someone go with him?” Tup watched with vague concern as Fives meandered away from them and into the crowd.

“Sometimes you just have to release him into the night and hope he comes home in one piece.” Kix waved off Tup’s worry, still enjoying his new drink.

“Maybe he’ll find Coric. That di’kut went to the bathroom hours ago.” Jesse pointed out.

The night came back in bits and pieces to the slowly waking clone.

Fives had found his way to the fresher, the space from the bar and the mission to relieve himself, giving him some time to focus his whiskey-addled brain. He stood by the sink for a moment, letting himself sober up. Through the mirror, graffiti on the wall caught his eye, and he spun to get a better look at it. It was a quickly scribbled Teyrian mesa goat with large words next to it; Fives’ sister.

Kark you, Jesse. He frowned before he took a recording of the art and sent the holo to the obvious offender over his comm. 

We’re brothers, you shabuir.

Fives typed into the small machine. He tried to scratch at the drawing to see if it would peel off with just his fingernails, but it didn’t budge. Fives let out a small huff in defeat before he turned for the door.

When he finally stepped from the fresher, Fives was torn between returning to his vode or trying his luck on the dance floor. His brothers often accused him of being a charmer, and they weren’t entirely wrong. He liked flirting with the women and sometimes the men that came into 79’s. There was no risk of anything serious, relationship or otherwise. No talk of the war, no hushed whispers about Echo, and right now, no mention of that ori’dush Jedi. As much as he loved his vode, other company was a welcome break.

He was weighing his options when, like a vision, she appeared before him. It was her, the girl he had made his mark from the moment he had spotted her stunning form from across the bar. Wearing a silky emerald dress that clung to her gentle curves and stopped at her knees, and with long hair that fell over strong shoulders in loose red curls, she was unmistakable. She was alone now, weaving her way through the crowd without Wolffe at her side to fend off any suitors. Fives couldn’t believe his luck. This was his shot, and like a good ARC Trooper, he wasn’t going to miss.

Fives knew all the lines he would have used on her as a shiny. Hey baby, come here often? Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink. Those lines had done their job, more often than not. Still, he’d learned over the years that his greatest talent, aside from being a honed and rather creative droid-killing machine, was making people laugh, and that usually worked best. 

Before he could make his move, a young clone stepped into his line of site. The young man swayed as he walked, but Fives had to hand it to him; he kept his eyes on his target. Maybe too well.

Soon, the soldier’s drink was down the front of the girl’s dress, and Fives watched with a bemused smile as the poor shiny realized he was in way over his head and quickly tore back into the crowd. The woman looked up after the shiny, and Fives was impressed to see an unheard apology fall from her lips before she turned back to her ruined dress. With all thoughts of chasing after her aside, he went to the bar and came back with a glass of water and a rag to offer her the help that his younger, stupider vod didn’t.

By the time she invited him back to her apartment, Fives’ head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the alcohol anymore. It was entirely her fault. Amal. Mal. Her name was a song clearer than any he’d heard before. She was gorgeous and funny, keeping up with his ridiculous jokes and bold choice of fun at every turn. The cabbie was ready to kick both of them out by the time the speeder had reached her corner. The weequay didn’t find the fact that she and Fives had taken to narrating his driving like announcers at a podrace as amusing as they did. 

They both stumbled from the cab, doubled over, and wrecked with laughter. Fives swore he nearly broke a rub when, before the cabbie could take off, she ran to the front bumper of the air taxi, pulled the dark scarf from her shoulders, and waved it like a starting flag. The cabbie flew away, swearing. Unbothered, Mal blew the weequay a parting kiss.

“For good luck.” She grinned as she skipped back to Fives.

He quickly pulled Mal into him. A feeling of enchantment overcame him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She smiled up at him, the city light dancing like stars in her glassy, green eyes. He spun her for a moment, sending them both in a circle just so he could pull one more gleeful laugh from her. Then he raised a hand to Mal’s face and leaned down to capture her lips with his.

Now, as he woke in the vaguely familiar bed, Fives groaned and stretched. He could hear her in the bathroom. The sound of the fresher door had pulled him from sleep, and the rush of the sink had prodded him to wake. Fives rolled himself over in bed and onto his stomach, stretching into the empty space beside him, still warm from her form. Her scent, a spicy-sweet vanilla, lingered on the sheets, and a longing sigh escaped him. Something about her presence in the fresher, the running water, and the soft morning light made his heart clench. He could almost imagine other mornings waking up here, other mornings where he could gather her back into his arms and convince her to go back to sleep, or mornings where he could try his hand at cooking and surprise her with breakfast.

Dangerous thoughts, Fives frowned into the soft dusty green fabric. He pushed himself up on his forearms. It was time to go. He started by gathering his clothes. They were strewn about the studio from the whirlwind of their entrance last night. As he pulled on his pants, he looked around the place Mal called home.

The first thing that caught his eye was the kitchen. Sitting kitty-corner to the bed, a tall wood bar separated the kitchen from her living space. It was the only table she had, and it looked a little dusty. Behind it, the kitchen was empty. A few spices and a couple of pans sat on the dark, open-faced shelves mounted on forest green walls. Otherwise, there was nothing.

A waste, Fives snorted. Nat-borns never appreciated the comforts. 

There were two doors along the same far wall as the kitchen. One was a blast door that Fives knew he had entered last night, and the other, he assumed from the sounds of running water, was the fresher. The bed was tucked in the corner of the room, next to a window with crooked curtains, as if someone had tried and failed to close them. On his side of the bed, there was still enough space between the window and the bedframe for a small table and lamp. There, he found that someone- her, if he remembered correctly - had deposited his shirt last night. Opposite the bed, a comfortable and worn brown chair was covered in blankets and a few books, turned down with their pages open as if someone was saving their spot. The rest of the room was lined with more dark shelves covered in more books and countless plants of all sizes and colors. He chuckled a little as he pulled his shirt on. She must like to take care of things. How sweet.

Dangerous thoughts, Fives felt the warning pop up again. Time to pack up. He straightened his shirt and reached for his boots, only to find one missing.

He didn’t hear her come out of the fresher. He was busy grinning victoriously at the erstwhile shoe he had pried out from under the bed. It wasn’t until he heard a sudden cry of surprise that he realized she was there. He snapped his head up to find Mal standing on the other side of the bed, her mouth open and a hand clutched to her chest.

“Sorry, sorry!” He quickly apologized, throwing the boot out in front of him in explanation.

“No problem!” She squeaked.

Fives couldn’t help but grin a little wider. She was trying to act natural, but her breathlessness from the scare still lingered. Then, a memory of her on her back, even more breathless as she writhed on his tongue, came back to him in a flash. Heat spread across his cheeks, and a hand shot up to the back of his neck, which he quickly rubbed as if he could erase the memory from his mind’s eye.

“So, wild night.” Fives chuckled at himself. He felt like a shiny again. “Can’t say I was in my best form, but I had fun. Hopefully, you did too.”

He watched as she relaxed and met his smile with one of her own. 

“Definitely.” 

His stomach flipped. Mal was as gorgeous as he remembered, standing there with her wavy red hair draped over her ivory shoulders. Toned arms peaked out from a sleeveless top, and black compression shorts hugged the curves of her hips. Fives had half a mind to pull her back to bed. He wanted to hold her heaving chest pressed to his and steal the oxygen from her lips. He wanted to kiss each freckle on her face. He wanted to soothe her worried brow.

Her worried brow.

Something was wrong. Fives kept chatting anyway. Echo had always joked that he was the only trooper who could talk more than Kenobi. He could sense her stiffness. It was the pauses between her words and the stillness of her limbs. She laughed, and she smiled, but something was wrong.

“I gotta get back to the barracks before my Captain has my ass. It’s always worse when he doesn’t go out with us. Jealous sheb.”

Fives finally let himself frown as he bent over to pull on his boot. He wondered if she knew what was coming. It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt Mal. They’d had a great time together, and maybe if things were different, this could end differently, but he never asked for comm links anymore. Some of his brothers had lovers that waited for them. They snuck off to dark corners of the Venators to call home and whisper sweet words of love while their other halves told them how much they were missed. Fives didn’t see the point. Jesse, all high and mighty in his relationship, tried to argue with him, saying Fives would understand when he fell in love, but he didn’t think that was likely. Having someone at home meant making promises you didn’t know if you could keep, like coming home at all.

When he stood, Fives was surprised to see that she had relaxed. Whatever was wrong must have been chased from her mind. He stepped around the bed and paused before Mal for a second, taking her in one last time. He breathed a little deeper. She still smelled like vanilla. She pulled him in like a magnet as Fives leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. His lips grazed her soft skin as his breath quickened. He could see her own lips fall softly open at his touch, and every impulse in him wanted to taste her one more time. 

He spun for the door before he could be reckless, breathing out a hurried thank you as he rushed to put space between her and him. Fives pushed aside any thoughts of other mornings, of how her legs had felt wrapped around his waist, or of her shining, spirited laugh. It was time to go. Jesse only could (and would) cover for him for so long.

He stepped out Mal’s front door into a narrow, dark stairwell that led from the entrance of her apartment to a back alley behind a bar below. The acrid smell of the dank crevasse between buildings hit him right away as he descended into the small corridor. He rounded the corner, pausing by the establishment to blink in the sudden sunlight. The divey joint looked just as seedy in the daylight as it had the night before. He frowned for a moment, thinking of Mal living above a place like that, before he shook himself of concern. He had said his goodbyes. A war was going on, and it was time to get back to work. He just had to find his way back to the barracks first.

Where the kriff was he? He wondered as he looked around. Come on ARC, use your head.

He glanced at the time mark on his comm and then looked up at the sun. He turned his attention to the city around him, searching for the level markings notched in the corner of each block of Coruscant. Finally, he examined the way the shadows fell from the buildings. A wave of relief washed over him. He was closer to the barracks than he expected. He might even make it back with time for a shower before the likely chewing-out from Rex.

Fives broke into a jog. He’d run every day since he was a cadet. It was easier on Kamino, with its long winding halls, but he still made time, even if it was just circling the barracks while on distant planets. It drove Echo crazy. His twin would throw pillows at him during tough campaigns, groaning at him to “Cut the shit.” Fives never did, though.

Despite still feeling a little groggy and the fact that he was wearing his one set of civics, it was a nice morning for a run. The sun was just hitting Coruscant’s midlevels, and the thought of a shower before roll call put an extra spring in his step. As his feet beat a steady rhythm against the ground, he focused on the mantra he always repeated as he ran.

Droidbait, Cutup, Hevy, 99, Echo, Hardcase.

The name at the end was new, and it still felt weird and heavy on his heart, but he repeated the names again and again. He wasn’t ever going to forget them. He wouldn’t ever let them be just a number.

tentative taglist: @twistedstitcher27, @baba-fett, @thefact0rygirl, @writingbylee, @wizardofrozz, @wild-karrde, @xopancakeox , @padmeromanoffs, @lunaastars, @shellshooked, @obi-wansorrow​, @misogirl828 and @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond​

[steve-faglan]

Cat // Mouse

Reader x Steve Raglan (William Afton)

TW: NON CON!! DUB CON!! DRUGGING!! HE'S MEAN!!!!!!!!!

SUMMARY: You get a job working for an old man you want to fuck. Are you misreading things? Where did that vibrator come from?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is this considered a slow burn? It felt slow to write. It's supposed to be like will they? Won't they? But it's... Well yeah. Look at this gif??????? My PUSSSY????????

WORD COUNT: so many.

Daddy issues. At least, that's what they call it. That's what your ex screamed at you about before he left you in a state thousands of miles from the one you were raised in. He said it was because you made him feel immature; less than. But maybe he was. All he ever wanted to do was drink and play video games, you craved more.

After he left, you realized you'd have to get a better paying job to cover the portion of rent your ex was paying. You take a day to really let it settle in. You cry and drink an entire bottle of wine while watching Dirty Dancing, and then you schedule a meeting with a local career counselor.

You sigh as you hang up the phone. It's embarrassing to need a temp agency's help finding employment, but you're new to this area. You don't know anyone and you're barely sure where to start.

Your alarm blares throughout your room, startling you awake. You barely remember falling asleep at all, and somehow, it feels like you couldn't have possibly slept enough. You're sluggish and groggy, but you still find the energy to get ready for your interview. You're hoping a little extra effort will get you further in a small town like this, so you spend a little more time on your makeup before heading out of the house.

The drive across town to the agency is quick and easy. You pull into the parking lot and emerge from your car, shielding your eyes from the sun to read the rickety sign that's hanging on for dear life outside the building. You huff, unsure if this was the best place to go looking for higher-paying work. When you step inside the door, a petite old lady greets you with a smile. She points to an office down the hall and tells you to knock.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

You push the unlatched door open slightly and a warm voice invites you in.

"Come in, have a seat." The man instructs. You scan over his office. It's dated, and decorated with styles reminiscent of corporate America in the 80's. You read the name tag on his desk, Steve Raglan. You take a seat in one of the muted yellow chairs opposite Steve and await his introduction.

"Steve," he extends an arm over the desk and you shake his hand, telling him your name.

"Thanks for having me, Mr. Raglan. I'm new to town, well, new to the entire coast, really."

"Wow, a little far from home, aren't we?" Steve chuckles kindly, smiling with a tightly closed mouth, spreading his mustache across his lip.

"You have no idea," you laugh exhaustedly and Steve tilts his head as if he's pondering something, but he doesn't mention it. "Anyways, here's my resume. It's not much, but uh..." You hand him a folder with your work history document professionally stored inside. Steve happily takes the folder and begins to read through your papers.

Your resume is impressive. You're well educated with a strong work streak. Your work ethic stands out to him. He's reading through your accomplishments aloud, commending each one. You're unsure why, but his praise fills you with a very specific need. You crave more and something in you tells you that you'd do almost anything to get it.

"A course in robotic engineering?" Steve's voice sounds surprised. He looks up at you with raised eyebrows. A grin spreads across his bearded face. "Huh."

"Yeah, I actually took a few courses. I never did anything with it though."

"Do you remember a lot from those classes?" He sets the closed folder to the side and casually places other papers on top of it, distracting you enough to keep you from asking for it back.

"Oh, sure. Mostly coding, I guess." You shrug.

"Coding." He repeats to himself, nodding knowingly. He can think of a million places in this town that could use a smart, pretty little thing like you. A strained silence grows for just a moment before he speaks again. "Well, Y/N. I think I have an offer for you, but it's not much of a pay raise like you'd hoped."

"What is it?" You ask, hoping for at least a dollar difference.

"Did you see Mrs. Penneman out there?" Steve points in the direction of the kind old woman who greeted you.

"Mrs. Penneman?"

"She's at the front desk. She's retiring in exactly one week. That position will be open." He goes on to talk about the ways you could incorporate what you learned in your engineering classes as they switch from mostly paper to computers after Y2K.

"What's the pay like?" You ask, already knowing you plan to agree the second he stops talking.

"Not great, but!" He pauses for a moment. "Plenty of opportunities for overtime." Steve's not an idiot. He saw how looked when he was praising you. The way the red in your cheeks was flaming hot at the mere mention of you doing a good job. He knows what he's doing to you, and he loves it.

"Overtime?"

"Of course. Switching the entire employee records from paper to digital isn't an easy feat. It's going to take a lot of time you may not have during the work day. Does this suit you or should I keep looking?"

"Oh, uh," you hesitate. Steve stifles a grin as he watches your inner battle decide between being around him or possibly making more money. "Yes, that's perfect. Thank you, sir."

"Excellent. You start Monday." Steve ends the conversation abruptly. A jarring switch from friendly and conversational to busy and indifferent. It triggered something in you. A desperate need to get that warmth back.

"Right, okay. I'll... See you Monday." You leave the office, yearning. And Steve is well aware. He sits alone in his office, staring forward as he makes plans for you. He folds his hands together and rests his chin on them as he imagines the way he'll pick you apart like a toy. You're already so desperate for his approval, you've done the hard part for him.

Monday rolls around and you, of course, wake up a little early to get ready. Of course, you don't want to come off as desperate, so you're very tactful in the way you dress and present today, your first day. You've all but forgotten your ex was ever here, let alone the fact that you moved all the way to Hurricane, Utah for him.

Nervous, but good at hiding it, you walk into the building with a beaming false confidence. You're trying to remind yourself that while Steve is attractive and older and something mysterious about him draws you in, you're still here to work and you really can't let rent slip because homelessness is not an option when you're this far from your home state.

You brace yourself for what you assume will be an extremely long day, and you hope it is. Not only for the money but the view as well. When you walk up to the desk, Mrs. Penneman is nowhere to be found. All her belongings are missing from the desk, leaving a generic canvas of an office. You glance down the hall to Steve's open office door.

"Mr. Raglan?" You knock lightly on the door, stepping inside slowly so as not to intrude. He's not there. The entire building seems eerily empty. Just as you turn to leave his office, you run flat into a broad, solid figure. Steve. You stumble before finally falling backward. You sit on the floor for a moment, red-faced, but keeping your composure to the best of your ability.

"Someone's punctual." Steve extends a hand to you, helping you up to your feet.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Raglan. I couldn't find-"

"Mrs. Penneman decided an early retirement was in store. I'll be training you, if that's alright." Steve smirks, knowing he relieved his previous secretary of her duties early specifically to have this time working so closely with you. He dressed it up as a gift to her.

"Oh, okay. Of course. Where should I start?" You smile, awaiting instruction. You cling to every word he says, the guidance, the leadership. The way his dimples deepen when he smiles in the slightest. You become dependent on making him smile simply for this reason.

Steve sets you up for data entry and asks that you let him come check your work every so often to make sure things "meet his standards." You've never been more determined to do something perfectly in your life. With unbreakable focus, you start the first few tasks. You're mindful, double-checking, efficient, and fast.

"Mr, Raglan?" You appear like an angel in his doorway. He looks up from his papers and waits for you to continue. "I finished the first portion. Could you come check it for me?"

Steve smiles warmly as he stands to follow you to your desk. The warmth of his gaze melts you from your head to your pussy.

"This looks great, Y/N. Good job." He adds the last bit just to see the way your eyes shift and sparkle when he compliments you. He leaves you to do the rest of your work in peace, but he lingers a little longer in the hallway, watching you for a moment, carefully hidden from your view.

You pick up on the data entry rather quickly and finish the very last employee record by the end of your first week. When Steve comes to finalize the task, he grabs a chair and slides it next to yours so you can both look at the screen together. You're poised and collected by now, the initial lust seeming to die down after a week of seeing him every day. Though his words of approval still cause a knot to form in your stomach.

Steve picks up on your dwindling excitement and decides this is war. As the two of you sit next to each other, he carelessly allows his legs to take up more and more space. Normally a man's obliviousness in a situation like this would boil your blood, but when his thigh grazes yours so softly, you freeze. His touch lingers and he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. His face is dangerously close to yours. He leans in even closer, boldly placing his lips mere inches from your ear.

"You're a very impressive young woman. You know that?" His warm breath brushes against your ear, inviting a million little goosebumps across your skin. It takes everything in him not to chuckle at your visceral reaction. You're frozen, staring straight ahead, basking in the closeness to this man you desire so badly. A few moments pass and a light chuckle leaves his lips. Still ever so close, he speaks again. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"S-sorry! Thank you, Mr. Raglan. Sorry," you nervously laugh, wishing so badly you could go back in time and rip the sticker off your forehead that says "Fuck me, Mr. Raglan."

"Don't mention it." He suddenly withdraws from your personal space, leaving you clinging to the dwindling body heat he's left behind. His tall figure towers over you, especially so when you're sat. He's gone just as quickly as he arrived and you can't help but feel perplexed. Was he not just coming on to you? Did you project all of that onto a perfectly normal interaction? He warps your reality without even touching you.

"What the fuck?" You question aloud to yourself. Your heart is racing. Your mind is constantly replaying the moment. His voice, his words, all of it.

The next day, it starts as any other. You're replaying the day before over and over again, just as you did when you shamelessly touched yourself last night. The sound of his voice so close to your ear, the way his leg brushed against yours. Just thinking about it feels like butterflies in your stomach.

"Good morning, Y/N." Steve walks right past you. You try to return the greeting, but you're cut off by the sound of his office door closing. He's frustrated, but you're not sure why. Disappointed, but not really the probing type, you decide to just get to work. Today was supposed to be the day he trained you for a "side project" utilizing your coding skills, but you're hesitant to ask about it while he's so visibly upset.

The day continues as usual, though it does seem to drag on a little longer for you when you don't get to stare at Steve. You're straightening up the waiting area, bent at the waist to fan out the magazines. When you stand, there's suddenly a tall figure behind you. Steve is pressing the entire front of his body directly against you. You involuntarily release a small gasp when you feel what you're sure is his half-hard cock pressed against your ass. Steve takes only a second to inhale your scent and feel himself pressed against you before he whispers in your ear once again.

"You're my secretary, not my maid." He steps away and you frown, still facing away from him.

"I'm sorry, sir. I've run out of things to do." You shrug and you turn.

"Out of things to do? Already?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir." Your formality is adorable to him. And something about you calling him "sir" makes him hard just hearing it.

"Well," Steve steps closer to you now that you're facing him. He's so tall, towering over you, craning his neck to keep his eyes locked on yours. "You're such a good girl," there it is. His words make you shudder. There's no way he's fucking with you right now, right? Wrong. He once again creates a gap between the two of you.

"Good kid with a good head on your shoulders. Try not to overthink it." He smirks at your beet-red face and swiftly disappears to his office. You're becoming frustrated. It's as if by the time he walks away, you're so enthralled that you can't remember whether or not your degenerate, horny brain over-dramatized the memory. Angry and even a little embarrassed, you make your way back to your desk.

Steve sits in his office carefully listening to the sounds of your frustration. He loves the way you'd fall to your knees for him right now if he asked, but he likes fucking with you more. He hears you sigh away the sexual tension and he grins. Having this much power over someone like you. You're so smart and beautiful, what are you doing melting in his hands like that? His strong hand finds the growing bulge in his slacks, hoping to relieve any of the pressure he's been building up for the both of you.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his teeth still palming himself, picturing you bound and gagged in front of him. Maybe that's why he's so insistent on teasing you instead of fucking you on his desk like he knows you dream about. Maybe he wants the chase, the restraint. You're too easy, he wants you to be scared.

At the end of the day, you decide to say "fuck it" and see what he'll do if you match his energy. He's grabbing his things to leave when you slip into his office and close the door behind you. You're shaking-nervous, your heart is pumping at an inhuman rate. You have no idea what your plan is until it happens.

"Mr. Raglan, can I ask you a question?" You make your way across the room, passing the boundary of the front of his desk, standing with him behind it. Steve tilts his head in a bemused expression.

"Y/N, feeling a little comfortable, are we?" His sarcastic question leaves you a little more unsure of yourself, and you take a step back. "Ask away." Steve smiles innocently.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but..." You're shocked at how steady your voice is as you fall into this sultry character you've created for yourself. It's never failed you before. "I feel like there's something you're trying to tell me. It's not very subtle." You lean against the desk casually. "Am I wrong?"

"Oh, wow," Steve can't help but grin, but he quickly replaces it with a smug, sarcastic expression. "You must be the queen of subtly, right?" His snarky words catch you off guard. "No, dear. Sorry about any miscommunications on my part. See you tomorrow, Y/N."

Steve steps around you and walks out the door without another word. You're stunned silent and extremely embarrassed. You consider leaving a resignation letter on your desk and never coming back. Furious, you slam the door to your car and drive home. By the time you get to your driveway, you've calmed down and accepted that everything you thought he was doing was just your imagination.

You're still angry, unable to fully accept that you'd be that delusional, but who really knows? From then on, you put away your fantasies and focus on work and getting money set aside for rent. The next few days continue like normal, with no more "misunderstandings" or advances. Until... Steve reaches for a binder off a shelf behind your desk. As he slides in behind you where you stand, right behind your pushed-in computer chair, and reaches his long arm up to the shelf, his other arm searches for a surface to brace on. That surface is your pencil skirt-clad waist.

You gasp quietly, but you don't allow yourself to react any further. Steve has the binder in his hand, but he doesn't remove the other from your waist. He lingers, staring at the back of your head trying to read whatever emotion must be displayed on the other side. You're rigid, like you usually are when he pushes these boundaries, but he also senses your frustration and boredom. He can't help but chuckle as he steps away.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says, waving the binder as he walks away to his office. Did he even need the binder? No, probably not. You huff at your seat, officially deeming him untouchable. You decide he must just be a weird old man that doesn't understand personal space and you can accept that now that he's no longer the object of your desire.

This is what he wanted. Your indifference. It's all part of his plan. As the days continue and your attraction settles to dust, he waits for you to make a mistake, any mistake. To his surprise and perhaps even dismay, you're nearly perfect. Then finally, you accidentally double-book a client meeting that leaves someone jobless with no way to reschedule. You're horrified and apologizing left and right to the man who is more than understanding, making you feel worse.

The man finally leaves, with no job, and no meeting. You sit at your desk and mentally scold yourself for being so careless. The stress of the approaching deadline of your rent seems to be taking a larger toll on you than you realized. Steve's client meeting ends and he sends the temp on his way with high hopes. You wish him a good day and try to focus on your computer.

"Y/N, can I see you in my office?" Steve appears from nowhere in front of your desk. He moves so silently when he means to, it's unsettling. You shamefully look up from your work and nod, following him to his office. You both sit in the appropriate seats and he releases a sigh.

"I'm disappointed in you, Y/N." His opening statement crushes you. "That was a huge fuck up, was it not?" His voice is stern and the use of cursing lets you know this is not a formal scolding. You're in trouble.

"I-I know, but it's the first one I've ever made since I started, sir."

"So that means I should just forget about it, right?" He leans back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "A man can't feed his family because he doesn't know when he'll have a ride back here."

"I know, sir. I'm... I'm sorry." You sigh, eaten alive with guilt. "He was very kind."

"Did you deserve it?" He's angry.

"No." You look away from him.

"What was that?" He tilts his head, eyebrows still arched. You glance at him, confused for a moment.

"No... Sir." You add.

"I think you're getting too comfortable here, Y/N. 'It's not very subtle.'" he quotes you and your face ignites with blush.

"O-Of course, sir. I'm so embarrassed. I'm sorry."

"Well, don't be embarrassed. Do better." You nod and begin to stand to leave when he leans forward with a softer expression. "Coffee?"

"What?" You don't even mean to ask him to repeat himself, it was just such a jarring switch in tone.

"Coffee. I just made it." Steve stands and crosses the room to a little black coffee maker in his office that you'd never noticed before.

"Uh, sure." You accept, hoping the caffeine will give you some sort of drive to improve your current work performance. Steve pours you both a cup and passes one to you. They're the same cup, but his looks comically small in his large, nimble hands. You take a few sips of the hot, dark liquid and begin to feel light-headed.

Everything around you seems to melt away. You've completely disregarded where you are or why you might feel this way. You try to stand and you drop the still-full cup on the office floor. Steve watches it all leaning against the table across the room. He nonchalantly sips his coffee as he waits for you to collapse. Just as he planned, the minute you get to your feet, your knees buckle beneath you. You're out before you hit the floor.

"Look at this. Look how little you think of yourself the second you hear how disappointed I am." Steve chuckles as he lifts your unconscious body. You're bound and gagged in the back seat of his '79 Ford Fairmont as he makes his way to an undisclosed location. Yeah, that one.

You wake up with a deep, sharp gasp as if you'd been holding your breath the entire time. Your head is spinning and your vision is blurry as you try to scan your surroundings. It's a dank grey room littered with failed attempts at his "side project" he'd mentioned to you weeks ago. Crumpled endo-skeletons and half-built robot heads cover each corner while wires and bolts cover the rest. Your heart begins to race and you try to rise from the cold, metal table you reside on, only to find that your wrists and ankles are strapped in place with thick leather binds.

"What the fuck?" You mumble to yourself as you continue to try to wake up. "Hello?! Help! Help me, please!" You scream and thrash on the slab.

"They all say that, you know? They always scream for help as if anyone's coming." Steve slowly enters the door. His tie is loose along with a few buttons, and his sleeves are haphazardly shoved halfway up his arms. His normally carefully combed hair is disheveled and damp with sweat as if he'd been hard at work before entering this room.

"'They?'" You tremble, rattling the metal.

"Of course, you're the first for this type of venture, I guess. Normally I just skip to killing," he chuckles, removing his tie. You're in a state of shock, sheer disbelief. Hearing that last word sends you into hysterics.

"Please don't kill me, sir. I- I won't fuck up again, I promise. Please-"

"Shut. Up." Steve's stern voice cuts directly through your pleas. "I haven't decided yet."

Tears flow steadily down the sides of your face as he begins to grope you. His rough hands explore every inch of you. His calculated hands knowingly leave bruises on your tender skin.

"Please..." You whisper with your eyes tightly shut, afraid of every movement he makes.

"Sweetheart, if this part scares you, I'm not sure you're gonna survive what comes next." He's only inches from your ear as he whispers. Your body shudders with terrified sobs. The cries only get louder when you feel Steve cutting off your clothes. You're too afraid to fight him off, unsure of whether any injuries you may acquire would be accidental or not.

"Why are you doing this? I-I literally came on to you!" You try to find reason in his actions, mostly to distract yourself from the fact that you're completely exposed, the remnants of your clothes a tattered mess beneath you.

"Where's the fun..." he drags the tip of his knife softly from your ankle to your navel as he steps closer to your blushing face. "In that?" He continues, positioning the weapon to stab through your abdomen, should he press down with any effort at all. Goosebumps erupt over your skin. "Now, are you going to shut your fucking mouth or do I need to shut it for you?" He places a gentle hand on your cheek. You nod frantically, looking into his eyes. They look so calm.

You hate to admit it, but the way he touches you seems to attempt to dig up that insatiable attraction you felt for him not long ago. Your fantasies never ventured to this genre, but you used to dream of him making you orgasm. You're torn from that memory when you remember his admittance to murder and how you know that means you probably won't make it out of this room.

Steve places the knife to the side and slowly slips his middle finger inside you. You gasp, and he plunges away, growing rougher with each stride. He curls his knuckles and watches your face closely as your crying eyes roll back into your skull. You yank against your restraints, trying to squirm away from him, but he's ruthless.

"You're so... Peculiar, Y/N." He removes his fingers from you and cleans them of your undeniable arousal with a pocket handkerchief. "I almost caved when you confronted me in my office. So bold. It's been a riot just picking at you." Steve reaches a hand into a desk in this mysterious room and retrieves an unknown device. You gasp as he slips the small, cold object inside you.

"What are you-" your question is swiftly silenced by the small remote in Steve's hand activating a powerful vibration from the item in your pussy. His free hand rubs rhythmically up and down your clit, stimulating you further. Steve stares down at you as you melt away into pleasure, ashamed and silently begging for more. He's laughing at you, hovering his head over yours as you anxiously avoid eye contact.

"Look at me," he demands, but you can't. You shut your eyes. He releases a breathy chuckle and raises the intensity of the vibrating gadget. "Don't start enjoying yourself or I might have to really scare you." You don't want to know what that entails, so you force yourself to look into his soulless blue eyes. The eye contact deepens the red shade that washes over your cheeks and Steve shakes his head, laughing at you again.

"Why are you so embarrassed now? Would you still be this shy if I'd bent you over my desk like you wanted? You're so much tighter when you're scared." Steve abruptly removes the vibrating toy from between your legs. You whimper pathetically in the absence of stimulation. He leaves the room and returns with yet another machine. This one's larger, a box.

He places the box down between your legs, as close to your throbbing entrance as he can get it. The side of the box facing you is adorned with a hole housing a phallic shape made of soft, silicone material. Your heart is bound to give out at this pace. The box itself covers a mass of gears and wires, a motor to power the rod in and out of its destination. You.

"We'll start it out slowly for you, how's that?" Steve presses a button and the machine pushes into you, slipping in easily as your body clearly craves it. You whine and cry out in pain as the machine stretches you out, slowly boring in and out of you. "If this thing's too big for you, what makes you think you could've taken me?" He laughs as he leans against the desk and watches the mechanism fuck you out. Every so often, he increases the speed.

Finally, it's maxed out. You're squirming and wailing in overstimulated pleasure and pain.

"Please! Please, I can't take it- I can't-" your begs are ignored. Steve places a rough hand around your neck, carelessly cutting off your oxygen and blood flow while his other hand delicately flicks your clit. That's it, that sends you over the limit. You climax harder than you ever thought possible, drenching the machine that's still fucking into you as your body quivers. Steve allows you to breathe again and takes his sweet time powering down the penetration machine.

You're shaking. Your tear-stained face is frozen in a look of exhaustion. The last thing you're able to do is move or speak. Your breathing is a plethora of hitched coughs and gasps and you flinch at even the possibility of being touched again at all.

"I think you might be ready now." He unfastens your bindings and takes a step back to observe. You don't move at all, not a single muscle. The truth is, you can't, even if you wanted to. Steve smirks, pressing a foot-lever under the table that lowers you right down to his waist. Two powerful hands hook under your legs and pull you so your beaten hole is perfectly accessible to him. You cry out as he moves you.

"I-I can't, Steve. I-" Your nearly inaudible mumbles are knocked from your mouth as he lands a hard open palm slap across your face.

"You're going to." He makes quick work of his belt and quickly aligns himself with your entrance. At one point all you wanted from him was this, but now you'd rather be anywhere else. Your cheek is ablaze, covered with a spreading stinging sensation. You're too distracted by the pain to notice Steve rearing back. He slams into you at full force, throwing his head back in ecstasy.

"Nooo!" You whine, unsure of how much more your body can truly take.

"Fuck!" He's almost primal when he's inside you, digging his fingertips into your flesh like he intends to take it off your body. "After all of that, you're still so fucking tight."

He reaches to your breasts and roughly gropes at the delicate skin. Your weak hand tries to tug at his wrist, but he simply flicks you away like a pest, continuing the assault. He slams into you, hoping to do more harm than anything, smiling at your sobbing face. Your makeup is a smeared mess and your hair is in disarray from the way you fought back on the table. You look pathetic to him and he loves it.

"You want to be filled up, don't you sweetheart?" He huffs, slowly approaching his climax. Your eyes open wide and a new wave of fear and adrenaline shoots through you, but you're still too weak to manage. Steve easily pins your wrists by your shoulders and thrusts deeper and deeper, hooking his hips to temporarily reach the very limit of your cunt.

"Please don't! Mr. Raglan, please!" You beg between gasping sobs as you listen to his labored breaths become unsteady. His agonizing thrusts lose their rhythm and suddenly you can feel his thick erection twitching inside you, brushing your G spot and carrying you over the edge again as well. You didn't even think that would be possible at this point.

You and Steve ride out your highs. He continues to pump into you making a heinous sound as he fucks his cum deeper inside you. To his surprise, he remains hard, so he continues to rut into your destroyed pussy until his legs threaten to give out. Steve finishes inside you a second time, laughing as he watches your horrified face realize how full of him you are. He's taking his time pulling out of you, playing with your cum soaked clit until you finally pass out from exhaustion.

Steve releases a breathy laugh as he fastens his belt and collapses in a chair nearby. You're lying there, naked and dripping cum from your swollen, demolished pussy. He can't get enough of this view. His original plan was to just get rid of you when he was done here, why not? But this is too much fun for him. Maybe he needs a new pet.

[youngeditor1999]

[bunny7567]

I got you - chapter 1

So this is the first fanfic I've ever written. I've been obsessed with star wars for years and with clone wars for months now, especially with Rex and I've had this story in my head constantly for almost a year. I have never written so many words so fast in my life. Made a tumblr account just to read Rex fanfics lol, so hope I get everything right when posting. I already have a couple more chapters written and many other ideas so this will be a long story. I try to follow canon but it does deviate from it a bit, and I'm also mixing some legends and a lot of headcanons in too. The story will deal with mature themes, I'm not yet sure how sexually explicit it'll get, again, never written fanfic before so not sure if I'm capable of writing smut lol but there's a big possibility. Also not gonna be very action-heavy, I'm more focused on relationships with other characters. Echo and Fives will appear a lot too cause I love them.

A/n: adding an edit to mention that I have in fact managed to write some smut in later chapters, so I guess that makes this story 18+. The chapters that have smut will be properly marked as such.

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!ofc

Word count: 3.8k Warnings: heavy drinking; talk of injury; implied ptsd; implied emotional abuse

Next chapter

mesh'la - beautiful di'kut - idiot

~~~

Lexie looked at her face in the mirror, pleading with her mind to allow her to remember what happened, but she’s met with the same confusing, unclear images she’s been trying to piece together for the past few weeks, images of barren landscapes, white armour, red eyes and the look of disgust in them, and was she in someone’s arms?

She read the report, she knows the facts what happened on Geonosis, but for the life of her, she cannot remember herself being there. She cannot remember her master abandoning her, why would he just leave? She cannot remember how she supposedly took charge of the squad of clone troopers that Master al’Prani was supposed to lead, tearing through battled droids trying to reach Anakin and Obi-Wan. And she cannot remember how she got injured. Her hand reaches to the back of her skull, fingers tracing the long scar that still feels tender. It shouldn’t do, not anymore, not after the months she spent in a coma, but she could swear it still hurt.

It didn’t feel real at first, waking up in a medical facility on Coruscant with only med droids around her to relay the news of her injury and the coma she had been in since. She had woken in such a panic that she didn’t even realise how she used the Force to throw one of said droids against a wall, shattering it to pieces. It didn’t get any better when Mace Windu and Obi-Wan finally came to talk to her, telling her about the war that the Separatists had started and the clone army that the Jedi were now leading. It didn’t feel right at all, Jedi as generals, how is that being keepers of the peace? But the most horrible blow came when Obi-Wan slowly sat down on the chair next to her bed and took her hand in his, a sombre expression on his face.

“Alexis, there is something else you should know”, she could feel that the news he was about to relay had something to do with her master, however Lexie could not believe the words that followed. “Master Safir’al’Prani has left the Jedi Order during the battle of Geonosis.”

“No that’s… that’s not possible” she said, voice coarse after months of not being used. “He was just with me, we were on a ship heading to Geonosis… t-to aid you and Anakin, and… did you say during?”

“Yes. Once the two of you got to Geonosis,” master Windu interjected, “he refused to fight alongside the clone troopers. He considered them…” he paused, carefully choosing the words to use, “beneath him. You can read the report yourself, one of the clones in your squad provided a detailed account of the situation”. My squad? blurry images of white armour flashed in her mind but Lexie forced her attention to master Windu’s words. His voice was steady, no hint of emotion as he nonchalantly delivered the most devastating news for Lexie to hear and then handing a datapad towards the injured Padawan.

Lexie took the datapad master Windu offered her, but could not bring herself to look at the report just yet, feeling the anger and pain bubbling up inside of her and worried about keeping her composure in front of the two Jedi. “Thank you masters, I will look through it later, I… I’m a bit lightheaded at the moment.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up from the chair. “We’ll let you rest now, gather your strength, we can discuss your situation at a later time”.

Your situation, the words ring in her head as she braided her bright red hair. She has a meeting with the Council that afternoon, after three weeks of physical therapy and psych evals she has no idea how she passed. Frustration increased as she once again could not hold onto the images that passed through her mind. What’s worse, she’s been feeling so disconnected from the Force, struggling to meditate, not that it ever came easy to her, and also use her abilities. Struggles she has kept from Obi-Wan, who has been checking in on her during her recovery. But now she had to face the Council, had to hide her struggles and insecurities from them, fearing disappointing them.

At least with Obi-Wan there, she hadn’t felt completely abandoned. Considering the amount of times Master al’Prani had dropped her on his head in the past few years, Obi-Wan was becoming more of a master to her than al’Prani ever was. Guess I shouldn’t be that surprised he just up and left me on a battlefield, she thought to herself, anger bubbling inside of her again. But she still was surprised, and angry, and confused, she tried to not blame herself but she couldn’t help feeling like it was somehow her fault, like if she hadn’t been such a disappointment to him, he would not have left. She shook her head trying to get the thoughts out then looked at the time. Shit! She was late.

Reaching the door to the Council room, Lexie stopped to catch her breath and to adjust her black robes. She didn’t wear this colour before but considered it appropriate these past couple of weeks, feeling as if she was almost in mourning. Taking three long breaths, she tried to clear her mind before entering the room.

“Waiting we have been, come, come”. All eyes followed her as she approached the centre. She looked around quickly, taking in the forms present in person or via hologram, then lowered her head and spoke as clear as she could, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice, “My apologies Master Yoda, I seem to have lost track of time.”

“How are you feeling, Alexis?”  Obi-Wan asked.

“Better, Master. I have been cleared by the medics, I am ready to return to my duties.” She replied, trying to sound confident. This is what I need right now, she thought, craving something to occupy her mind, some action so she could feel like herself again.

“Good to hear that is. A decision about your future this Council has made” Yoda continued. Lexie looked at him, waiting for her verdict. Her heart was pounding in her chest as all her concentration was focused on her mental walls, trying as hard as she could not to let the council members feels the anxiety within her.

“As you know,” Mace Windu begun talking, “former master al’Prani was reaching the end of your training. He believed there wasn’t much left for him to teach you”.

She tried to stop her face from grimacing at the words, remembering a similar sentence al’Prani had spoken to her months before Geonosis: “You seem intent on not learning any lesson I am trying to teach you”. Her mind got lost in the memory, anxiety slowly enveloping all her senses.

“…to consider what you have been through on Geonosis as your Trials and grant you the rank of Jedi Knight”. Those words snapped Lexie back to the present, did she hear him right? Did they really believe she was ready to be a Knight?  She opened her mouth to voice her concerns but immediately closed it. What was she going to do, argue with the Council’s decision? But how can they say I passed Trials that I don’t even remember? she thought, but then recalled how she kept that piece of information from them, not even confiding in Obi-Wan about her memory problems.

“We thought you would be more excited about this”, Obi-Wan’s voice stopped her rambling thoughts.

 “I-I am, of course. It’s just a lot to take in, and, if I am honest, I cannot stop feeling a little disappointed my master is not here to give me the… the happy news himself”, Lexie answered, cringing internally at how fast she spoke and how forced the words had sounded. “What happens now? Do I get assigned a battalion?” she asked after a short pause, hoping to move the subject along.

“At this time we cannot assign you your own battalion”, Master Windu spoke again, either not noticing or not wanting to deal with her conflicting emotions. “However, we believe the best course of action would be for you to join Anakin Skywalker as second commanding officer of the 501st. This arrangement could prove… mutually beneficial”.

“Mutually beneficial?”, she repeated, a slight frown showing on her face.

“Yes. You see, Anakin has been in command of this battalion for a few months now, so there’s a lot you could learn from him”, Obi-Wan interjected; she swore she could hear Master Windu scoff at that statement. “And in turn you could help… curve his impulsiveness, be a good influence on him. The battalion is due to return on world later today and Anakin is expecting you at the barracks first thing tomorrow”, Obi-Wan concluded, giving her a reassuring smile.

Lexie almost laughed at this. If they think I could be a good influence on anybody they don’t know me that well. She kept that thought to herself however, and instead bowed her head. “I understand. Thank you masters, I will do as instructed”.

On her way back to her room Lexie felt the anxiety creeping back in, filling every space of her mind. She was not ready for this, how could they think she was ready for this? Upon reaching her room she quickly peeled off her robes, the layers suddenly suffocating her. She sat down on the floor, trying to meditate, to ground herself in the moment, feeling the beginning of a panic attack. She didn’t think she had panic attacks before. But ever since waking up from her coma, they had been a common occurrence.

Meditating proved more effective this time, Lexie’s heartrate coming back to a more normal pace after a few minutes. Maker, I need a drink, she thought. She dug through her closet, looking for a more inconspicuous outfit, not wishing to attract much attention to herself when out. As a Jedi, she didn’t own many clothing items, however she did have a couple dresses and blouses that she would use on nights out, nights when she pretended to be a regular woman enjoying herself in a club or bar. For this occasion, though, she found a plain, dark-grey hooded jacket that she threw over the black tank top she was already wearing. She kept it unbuttoned, a moderate amount of cleavage still visible. She wasn’t going to specifically look for a hook-up tonight, but wasn’t necessarily opposed to anyone coming up to hit on her.

She went to her usual club, planning on only having one, maybe two drinks. However, the need to drown her insecurities got the better of her and five drinks later she was still at the bar, flirting with a Pantoran man who had just offered to buy her another drink.

She liked the confidence that being drunk would give her, she felt like a different person altogether, like a normal person who could comfortably flirt with other people. She wondered for a second if it was problematic that pretty much all of her hook-ups happened whilst she was drunk, or at least tipsy, but she tried to assure herself that she had always been in control, knowing her limit; hell, she had never gotten blackout drunk, never once vomited from alcohol, she just liked to have fun occasionally, to blow off steam.

Lexie was about to accept the man’s offer when she spotted a familiar Tholothian woman walking in the club. Shit, Gemma. The next second Lexie had pulled the hood over her head and was almost running to the exit, keeping her head down as the Tholothian made her way to a booth where she was greeted by loud, already drunk friends. Lexie exhaled a sigh of relief as she stepped in the chilly night air of Coruscant.

She could not deal with seeing Gemma right now, or with the apologies she would have to make. Guilt crept inside of her as she thought of how she basically ghosted the poor woman. I did say from the beginning that I cannot do more than casual, she tried pleading with her guilty conscience, but she knew she had not treated Gemma right.

Lexie realised she had been walking aimlessly for quite some time now, lost in her guilt, and stopped to look around confused as to where she was. The alcohol in her system was also not helping her in recognising her surroundings. She heard loud chatter ahead and followed it, coming face to face with what was, for her, an unusual sight.

She wasn’t used to the clones yet, she had seen a few troopers around, mainly the Coruscant guard or Commander Cody when he would come to retrieve Obi-Wan, but she hadn’t interacted with them at all during her recovery. But now, in front of a cantina she could see was named 79s, Lexie saw a bunch of them, in either officer uniform or in armor with various markings on it. She observed them for a little while, drunk, rowdy, joking around amongst themselves, they didn’t seem to act any different than other drunk men she had encountered in clubs before.

Alcohol-induced curiosity got the better of her and she decided to go inside the bar. I might as well get used to being among these men, she justified in her head. As she made her way to the entrance she pulled her hood down, gaining a low wolf-whistle that she ignored from one of the clones stood by the entrance.

The club was dimly lit and crowded, mainly with clones, but other sentients, mostly women as far as she could see, were mingling with the troopers. Lexie made her way to the bar, sitting down on a barstool as she ordered a cocktail. She looked around the space, taking in the different hairstyles or tattoos that the clones had, fascinated by their need for individuality. But they really were all individuals, she could feel them each through the Force, all their life signatures unique, something that really surprised her.

Lexie hadn’t thought about them much these past few weeks, being solely focused on her recovery. But being inside the bar right now, she was suddenly struck by how human they all were and, just as suddenly, the knowledge that the Republic had bred these sentient, living beings just to throw them into a war made her feel a pit inside her stomach.

Lexie was brought back from her unnerving thoughts by the realisation that she was being watched and turned her head slightly, just in time to notice two clones basically pushing a third clone towards herself. The clone stumbled and briefly met her eyes, before quickly averting them, embarrassment and nervousness seeping from his Force signature, followed by annoyance as he turned his head to look back at the men that threw him into this situation.

“H-Hi…”, he managed to say, looking back at her.

“Hello there”, Lexie replied, voice full of amusement. This should be fun, she thought to herself, studying the trooper in front of her. There wasn’t anything particular about his appearance, he had a standard haircut and no visible tattoos. The most striking aspect of his look was the handprint located on his chestplate, similar but not identical in colour to the other blue markings on his armor; blue, is that the 501st colour?

“I uhh… I’m Echo”, he said hesitantly.

“That’s an… interesting name. Is that short for echolocation, do you have really good hearing or something?”, Lexie replied teasingly.

“Umm, no, I wish”, he said with an embarrassed chuckle, “I-I used to have this tendency to repeat the orders we were given during training. My umm… my brothers used it to tease me and I guess it just stuck”.

“Well, it’s a pretty cool name regardless”, Lexie said, earning a shy smile from the trooper that was still stood stiffly next to her. “So what brings you over here, Echo?”, she gestured to the space between the two of them.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t really my idea, umm… my brothers keep insisting I need to… umm… talk to a woman. I’m sorry for disturbing you”, he said apologetically. Lexie looked over his shoulder to where the two clones were now leaning on the end of the bar, far enough that she didn’t think they could hear their conversation, but clearly still keeping an eye on their brother’s attempt at flirting.

One of the clones had a more striking appearance, his hair shaved, a big tattoo of the Republic crest adorned half his face and a big part of his skull. The other clone also had a facial tattoo, however smaller and on his right temple, showing the number five in Aurebesh; his appearance was otherwise that of a standard clone, minus a hint of a goatee on his chin.

“No worries, I was starting to get bored actually. And I assume that if I turn you away they’ll just find another woman to throw you at?” she asked half laughing.

“Most likely”, Echo answered with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Then you’d better join me”, Lexie said motioning to the empty barstool next to her. “I expect they’ll leave you alone if they believe you’re getting somewhere”.

Echo reluctantly took the seat next to Lexie, even more nervousness enveloping his Force signature. They sat in silence for a moment as Lexie took a few sips of her drink. Finally, Echo seemed to have gathered enough courage to continue their conversation.

  “I-I don’t want to give you the wrong idea if… umm… if you were looking for…”, he paused, having trouble choosing his words, “for something specific tonight”. His eyes could not meet hers, instead focusing on the drink that she was holding.

 Lexie let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry, honey, I was not going to sleep with you even if you had wanted it.”

 “That’s good”, Echo said with a small sight of relief. “I mean I-I don’t want to offend you, I’m just not…”, he paused, unsure if he should be admitting this out loud. “I’m just not really interested in this.”

 “This being women?”, she asked tentatively.

 “Women, men, anyone for that matter. I just don’t think I’m… attracted to anyone”, Echo replied, eyes turned back to her face, awaiting to see her reaction.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know that right? And your brothers shouldn’t force you to be someone you’re not just because they refuse to understand”, Lexie replied with a little indignation in her voice.

“No, I know, I’m not ashamed or anything”, he continued. “And they’re not… well I never actually tried to explain it to them. When Fives and I were at the outpost there was no need to talk about it and I managed to avoid it the last time we were on Coruscant. Fives was too busy finding someone for himself and didn’t pay much attention to me all four days of our leave. This is only the second time we’ve been here actually, Fives and I that is. Jesse has been with the 501st longer than we have.”

So they are with the 501st. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume Fives is the one with the tattoo of the number five”, Lexie remarked with mock deliberation, looking over Echo’s shoulder at the clone in question.

 “Yeah that is a good assumption”, he said with a small laugh. Lexie could feel he was more relaxed now and was surprised to discover she was actually enjoying his company. She’s never really had friendly conversations in bars before, usually only approaching people when she was interested in a possible hook-up, or on the occasions she was looking for information during a mission.

Echo talked a little about the shenanigans he and Fives used to get into back as cadets on Kamino, making Lexie genuinely laugh a couple of time. She could tell that the bond between the two men was special and couldn’t help feeling a little envious. Her thoughts briefly wondered towards her own family, Myria’s face appearing into her mind. No, stop that. She had to change the subject.

 “So, the famous 501st. What is that like?”, she asked after taking a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know if we’re that famous, but they’re good men, all of them. And our general is one of the best”, he answered proudly. “It’s weird though, the reason we’re back on Coruscant is so we can pick up a new general, which seems unnecessary. Fives said they’re probably sending some boring, stuck-up Jedi to babysit General Skywalker, the other Jedi must believe he’s too impulsive”.

  “Anakin impulsive? No way”, Lexie replied with sarcastic shock and a laugh. A sly smile crept on her face as she watched the confused expression Echo made. She stood and downed the last of her drink. “And I wouldn’t worry about the new general, she’s not that bad I think. But then again, I am biased”.

 Echo opened his mouth to say something but before he could get the words out Fives was at Lexie’s side, his hand sliding on her lower back.

“You’re not leaving, are you mesh’la?” he asked in a sweet voice.

 “Oh you’re a bold one”, she replied glancing at his arm and then back at his face, matching the tone of his voice. She was intrigued by the word he used to address her. Was that in Mando’a?

“What can I say, it breaks my heart to see a beautiful woman leave this place disappointed. Unlike this di’kut over here I could make it worth your while if you stayed a little longer”, he said as his head jerked towards Echo then lowered a little towards her.

 “Fives!”, Echo said in an urgent tone, “she’s a Jedi. I think.” His eyes met Lexie’s looking for confirmation, embarrassment once again engulfing him.

“Ten points for Echo”, she replied with a laugh. Fives’ hand immediately withdrew from her body, landing on the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously.

  “S-Sorry, Sir, I didn’t realise”, he said, concern easy to distinguish in his voice as he stepped away from her. Sir? Is that what everyone is gonna call me?

“No need to worry, honey”, she said, amused by the clone’s reaction. “And to answer your question, I am unfortunately leaving, have to be up early.” She noticed the other clone – Jesse, Echo said, right? – had approached them and she gave him a smile. She patted Echo twice on the shoulder and started making her way towards the exit, turning her head to loudly say “see you tomorrow, boys!”.

She laughed to herself as she heard Echo tell the others “I think that was our new general” before the distance snuffed out their voices and she went out the door into the cold night air.

[rex-meshla]

Rex-Meshla's Masterlist ✨

Shadows of the Force

Captain Rex x F!OC

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Steel Meets Silk

ARC Commander Colt x F!OC

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Clone Drabbles

Commander Wolffe

Brat Summer

Testing Limits

Testing Limits —Part 2 (NSFW)

ARC Commander Colt

Take What You Need (NSFW)

Commander Fox

An Unusual Assignment

Captain Howzer

Stolen Nights and Shared Dreams

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[dilxcc]

chapter five

summary. in which two friends who desperately clings to each other until the other slips away . . .

contains. fem!reader, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slowburn, cussing, grammatical errors . . .

note. i swear this chapter would be more enjoyable if you read it while listening to kai's come in. ALSO FOR EVERYONE'S INFORMATION!! i actually was listening to kai's say you love me (i thought it fits the yandere theme much more but angst works too hehe) when i come up with this ff 🤭 im not even going to lie when i say most of his songs inspired me to write

previous chapter

his face was adorned with a sweet smile. one hand caressing your hair while the other were wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. you were too caught up in what was happening until he was suddenly further away from you. your voice were stuck in your throat, desperately trying to call out for him.

that gentle smile were replaced with resentment. you didn't get what was happening. your heart ache as he continue to get further away. you begged for your legs to start moving ― to start chasing after him. but it wouldn't move.

.

you woke up with a start, slightly out of breath as you take in your surrounding. your head was immediately turned towards the door when it swung open, revealing the very source of your nightmare. "satoru..." you muttered. despite your best effort to look like nothing had happened, he had already caught on to it.

"you good?" he asked, sitting down on the side of the bed. "yeah," you answered almost immediately. he knew that was not the case. hell, he's been friends with you since your teenage years. of course, he would know if something was wrong. but he didn't push the topic any further. "are the kids okay?" you asked softly. he put the plastic bag that he brought with him on the bedside table. "they are. thanks to you," he smiled slightly.

you let out a sigh of relief before laying back down on the bed. "i brought your favorites," he said, his eyes were wandering around the hospital room. "eat it while it's still hot," he added.

for the next few minutes, he accompanied you as you ate your lunch ― that was what he told you. as if noticing your constant need to clear your throat, he suddenly got up from his seat and started walking towards the door. "where are you going?" you immediately asked. "missing me already?" he asked with a teasing smile, making you to crack a smile of your own. "i'm getting you water," he said softly, his hand on the doorknob. "i'll be back in a few,"

after he left, you were left alone with your thoughts. your mind wander back to the dream you just had. was it really a dream..? or was it some sort of prediction that might happen in the future? you shook your head slightly, denying all possibilities. there was no way that would happen... right?

.

the two students clung onto you, tears staining their faces as they shout words of gratefulness. "you scared us back there!" itadori started. "we thought that you died!"

gojo only watched the scene unfolding before him with amusement. the fushiguro boy had a concerned look on his face but he was trying his hard to not show it.

after a few minutes of consoling your students, they finally calmed down and returned to their usual routine. you were left alone with the gojo satoru yet again. "don't you have a business trip? you usually have one," you muttered.

"told those old men that i'm busy," the white haired male shrugged. "then why are you still here?" you tilted your head in disbelief. he let out a chuckle and shrugged. "let's hang out," he smiled brightly, dodging your question expertly. he do know why he was here ― why he was reluctant to leave your side. he was scared that you might get hurt again; that you might... leave him.

you sighed and shook your head. "i can't, satoru. i still have classes," you rejected. "oh, you mean the one you had after this? loosen up. you still got two more days before you actually need to start teaching again," he said. "plus, those kids won't have a single mission any time soon," he smiled.

"no, means no, satoru," you sighed. "yes, you mean?" he insisted. without asking for your permission, he grabbed your hand and warped the two of you in front of a sweets shop. "satoru!" you groaned.

without letting go of your hand, he starts walking inside the shop, looking through at the various flavors they have. "choose your favorite," he said softly before letting go of your hand and wander around the store in search for his favorite flavors.

you sighed in defeat before you decided to give in and take a look around the store. it had different flavors, some you have heard of and some that you have never heard of. your eyes stopped at the familiar candy that you used to eat back in the days. yours and satoru's favorite.

you wondered if it was still his favorite.

.

sitting at the park bench, you unwrapped the toffee plastic and popped it inside your mouth. "oh," satoru was frozen in his spot, his eyes glued on the confectionery. he remembered the times during your teenage days when both you and satoru would eat these candies under a tree, laughing at each other's joke.

"still your favorite?" he asked softly, his eyes soften behind his black glasses. you hummed and closed your eyes. "i haven't ate this since..." he trailed off. obviously he meant since the time that your relationship drifted away. "yeah, me too," you smiled bitterly.

he scoot himself closer to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. there was no words needed to be exchanged. just simply being in silence with him, the chirping of the birds and his raging heartbeats were enough.

taglist: @wooasecret @charisthemaniac @tw0fvced @1lellykins @dnnalssndra

masterlist

[loving-the-cambridges]

The Winter Rose Blooms

Summary: a renowned matchmaker, is tasked with finding a bride for Cody, the heir to the throne of the royal family on a snowy, idyllic planet far away in the galaxy. But while the reader is determined to fulfill her duty, she doesn’t expect to fall for Rex, the spare prince with a heart of gold and a penchant for mischief. As snow falls and the warmth of the season unfolds, love blooms where it’s least expected—proving that sometimes, the best matches aren’t planned at all.

A/N: This story was inspired by a Christmas movie I’d seen, and I thought it would be a lovely addition to the Clone Wars holiday stories out there. I wanted to blend the charm of royal romance with the rich camaraderie and emotional depth of the Clone Wars characters, creating something heartfelt and festive. I hope this brings a little joy and warmth to your holiday reading!

-----

Alderia hung in the vast tapestry of the galaxy like a jewel lost to time. Its beauty was so tangible it might have been carved by the hand of a benevolent god—so much so that travelers whispered of it as though it were myth. Planets in the Outer Rim were rarely spoken of with reverence, but Alderia was an exception.  

From orbit, its surface shimmered with life. Indigo oceans spread like veins, their depths glowing faintly under the light of its twin moons, Ceera and Lumar. Snow-draped mountains clawed skyward to the west, their jagged peaks sharp as blades forged by time. These were the **Jolaris Mountains**, home to valleys choked in mist and legends older than the Republic itself. Waterfalls crashed over cliffsides like liquid silver, feeding rivers that snaked their way down into the open arms of Alderia's vast countryside.

The countryside—The Naldorian Reach—unfurled endlessly, rippling with gold, green, and copper in the light of a low sun. Fields of fireflowers swayed like waves of flame, their petals casting a soft glow under the night. Here, farmers tended to crops that fed not just their planet but many others who came seeking Alderia’s bounty. Herds of **tarka**, long-horned creatures with coats of soft silver fur, grazed freely. Villages sprouted amidst the land like freckles, their cottages carved from smooth gray stone, smoke curling peacefully from their chimneys.  

To the south lay the **Ivaryn Seas**, sprawling sapphire waters where waves crashed against cliffs shaped by a millennia of tides. Ships from the far corners of the galaxy anchored here, their sails or thrusters spilling stories of distant systems. Markets brimmed with alien goods—rugs woven on Naboo, glittering crystals mined deep on Christophsis, and spices from the windswept plains of Tatooine. Valford Prime, the capital, sprawled in the planet’s heart—a city of bridges and canals, where modern steel and glass spires rose alongside mosaicked relics of a bygone age.

The people of Alderia were as colorful as their planet, a mosaic of cultures that had long made their home here. They came in pursuit of peace, a place unspoiled by galactic war or greed, and they stayed because Alderia embraced them as its own. Their tongues spoke many languages, their songs carried many traditions. And together, they loved their planet like a child loves its mother—fiercely, selflessly.

It was a place alive in a way the rest of the galaxy seemed to have forgotten.

---

On the highest balcony of Valford Prime’s royal palace, Jaster stood, his silhouette backlit by the rising sun. The crisp morning air rolled in from the Jolaris peaks, carrying the scent of pine, frost, and the delicate winter roses blooming in the gardens below. Jaster let his gaze drift across the world beneath him—the tapestry of mountains, plains, and seas spread out like a promise that no longer belonged to him.  

For all its splendor, Alderia felt quieter these days.  

The king’s fingers curled around the carved stone railing, his knuckles white for a fleeting moment before he forced himself to relax. He had been many things in his lifetime: a leader, a diplomat, a soldier in his youth—but never, not once, had he imagined becoming a father to five boys who were not his own.  

Jaster closed his eyes, and with the softness of morning came the memory.  

**Jango.**  

His son. His only child.  

It had been nearly two decades, but loss was a wound that time refused to stitch closed. *A shuttle accident*, they had told him, voices brittle with grief. Somewhere deep in the Jolaris range, a storm had come—sudden and ferocious—and Alderia’s skies had swallowed Jango whole. 

Jaster could still remember the sound of it. The palace had been filled with the silence of disbelief when they broke the news. He had stood in this very spot, the soft white petals of the winter roses fluttering like snow at his feet, and watched as the light drained from the world. *There were no survivors.*  

The boy who had once tugged at Jaster’s sleeves to ask about the galaxy’s endless stars, the boy who had loved the Naldorian fields in summer and the Ivaryn tides in winter—was gone.

Jaster hadn’t had the privilege of breaking down. No, he had been king, and kings were not allowed to fall apart. Not even when the palace halls echoed emptily, devoid of Jango’s laughter.  

Instead, he had been given **Cody, Rex, Fives, Echo, and Jesse**—Jango’s sons, the living pieces of a man taken far too soon. Jaster had buried his grief beneath the weight of a grandfather’s love, raising them not as heirs to a throne but as boys who deserved to be happy. They had become his solace, his redemption.  

Cody, the eldest, wore his crown of responsibility like a second skin. Rex, the second-born, with his disarming grin and glinting eyes, walked the line between playfulness and quiet longing. The twins, Fives and Echo, filled the palace with energy—always underfoot, always in trouble. And Jesse, the youngest, carried his father’s fire in his veins, a boy whose resolve burned brighter than any star.  

Jaster had given them everything. And yet—what kind of legacy had he built for them?

---

A soft knock broke the quiet. Jaster turned, regal in his bearing despite the wear that life had etched onto his face. The sun cast a faint golden glow across the silver in his hair, his blue eyes reflecting a wisdom hard-earned.  

“Your Majesty?”  

The aide bowed low, his tone quiet, respectful. “The matchmaker has arrived. She awaits you in the library.”  

Ah, yes. The matchmaker. A measure born of desperation.  

Jaster sighed softly, one hand smoothing down the front of his coat—a finely woven garment in royal indigo trimmed with silver thread. To an outsider, he looked every bit the monarch: commanding, poised, untouchable. But in the shadow of his sharp jawline lingered exhaustion that no cloak of dignity could quite disguise.  

He turned back once more to the balcony, to the world that stretched far beyond the palace walls. Alderia, his Alderia, had flourished under his rule. But peace, he knew, was fragile. The galaxy was changing. And for the good of the throne, for the future of his people, Cody needed a bride—a match worthy of Alderia’s weight.  

And so, he had called for the matchmaker.  

Jaster straightened, his spine as unbending as the mountains that guarded his kingdom. “I will meet her shortly.”  

The aide bowed again, retreating quietly, leaving Jaster alone once more.  

For a long moment, the king lingered, his gaze drifting back to the horizon where the snow-capped Jolaris Mountains kissed the sky.  

“Forgive me, Jango,” he murmured, his voice soft as the wind that swept over the balcony. “I do this for them.”  

The winter roses rustled faintly below, their pale petals gleaming against the frost-dusted ground.  

With a final breath, Jaster turned and strode back into the palace, his footsteps slow but deliberate. The weight of a king's duty was an old companion. And today, it would guide him once more.

****

The moment (Y/n) stepped onto the landing platform, the weight of Alderia hit her—not physically, but something deeper, a resonance in her bones, as though the planet itself whispered secrets into the chill air. The sky was a pale lavender, soft with the blush of morning, its twin suns still climbing beyond the horizon. Frost edged the paving stones in delicate patterns, shimmering under the orange glow of guiding lights. A cool wind swept across the platform, tugging strands of her dark hair loose from the elegant twist she’d fashioned earlier.

“Focus,” she told herself, clutching the leather strap of her bag tightly against her shoulder.

(Y/n) (Y/L/N) was no stranger to royal summons. Over the years, her work had brought her across countless systems, from the gilded halls of Serenno to the sunlit courts of Naboo. And while reputations varied from planet to planet, hers was solid. The matchmaker of the galaxy, they called her, though there was little romance in it. Matching was business—an art woven with precision, calculation, and a touch of intuition.

Yet Alderia felt... different. Its air carried an ancient weight, its silence deeper than she expected, as though the planet had stopped to watch her.

***

a man with sharp shoulders and a pinched expression. His uniform was immaculate—a deep indigo tunic lined with silver trim—and though his demeanor was courteous, he appraised (Y/n) with quick, analytical eyes.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he said with a clipped nod. “The King awaits you.”

(Y/n) inclined her head politely, forcing herself to ignore the slight hitch in her chest. She had been briefed on King Jaster: widowed early, robbed of his only son, a ruler both beloved and distant. A man who had borne more loss than most could survive.

Still, standing here—before a palace of towering spires and ancient glass—it was impossible not to feel small.

As she was led into the main corridor, her breath caught.

***

The palace of Valford Prime was magnificent, but not in the way of grand and showy courts she had seen before. It was old, as though carved from the very mountains that loomed over it, a place built to last centuries. Smooth stone walls rose high above her, their surfaces interrupted by arches lined with mosaics—each a depiction of Alderia’s history. Fireflowers wove through the tiles like bursts of flame, their bright scarlet contrasting the muted greys and creams.

Beneath her feet, polished marble stretched out in soft hues of onyx and ivory, cool even through the soles of her boots. Chandeliers hung overhead, forged from glass and silver, casting warm pools of golden light onto the floor. The air smelled faintly of pinewood smoke and winter roses—subtle, familiar scents that spoke of comfort and care.

(Y/n)’s gaze moved to the stained-glass windows that framed the corridor. Each pane glowed softly with the light of morning, their surfaces painted with intricate scenes—warriors standing beside tamed tarkas, scholars presenting star maps, families gathered under twin moons.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, unable to stop herself.

The attendant glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of approval hidden behind his professionalism. “Alderia has always valued its legacy.”

(Y/n) nodded, though something unspoken lingered in his words. A place so steeped in beauty, so carefully tended—what would happen to it if its legacy was left unfulfilled?

***

She was led through a series of adjoining halls, their silence punctuated only by the occasional hum of droids or the shuffle of guards shifting to attention. Her boots clicked softly against the marble, a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness.

At last, the attendant paused before a grand wooden door. It was old, carved with swirling patterns of vines and blooming roses, the kind of artistry no one bothered with anymore.

“The king is within,” the attendant said, stepping aside.

(Y/n) swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Adjusting the collar of her deep emerald coat, she gave herself a moment to breathe, centering the cool calm she wore as armor. It was just another meeting—another royal court. Another job.

She stepped through the door.

***

Warmth greeted her first.

The library was a cathedral of wood and firelight, a room made of shadows and amber glow. Shelves of carved mahogany stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with tomes whose spines had been worn smooth by centuries of hands. A fire crackled low in a stone hearth to her left, the flames dancing as though pleased to have company. Its glow painted the dark green walls with flickers of gold, spilling light across a pair of leather armchairs positioned before it.

The room smelled of old parchment, leather, and pine smoke, with an undertone of something distinctly Alderian—a faint sweetness, perhaps from the roses (Y/n) had noticed earlier.

Then she saw him.

****

King Jaster stood near the fire, one hand resting on the back of an armchair as though he were only half-present in the room.

The man was every inch the ruler she’d been told to expect. Tall and imposing, with broad shoulders and a straight back that spoke of years spent wearing authority like armor. His hair, streaked with silver, framed a face marked by both strength and sorrow—deep lines etched at the corners of his mouth and eyes. Yet there was something warm in those eyes, a glint of sharp intelligence softened by what might have once been humor.

For a man who had lost so much, Jaster still carried himself with a quiet kind of grace.

When he turned to face her fully, (Y/n) felt the weight of his gaze—not cruel, nor suspicious, but thoughtful, as though he were assessing not just who she was but what she carried with her.

“You are (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” he said, his voice deep, deliberate, yet not unkind. “The matchmaker.”

“I am,” she replied, offering a slight bow of her head. “Your Majesty.”

He studied her for a long moment, his gaze sharp as a vibroblade.

“I’ve heard of your reputation,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, laced with something she couldn’t yet name. “Your work has taken you to many worlds. Alderia is far from most of them.”

“I go where I’m needed.” (Y/n) straightened, meeting his gaze. “And I understand your need is urgent.”

Jaster’s lips twitched slightly, though it was not quite a smile.

“That remains to be seen.” He gestured toward the chair across from his own. “Please, sit.”

****

(Y/n) moved carefully, lowering herself into the chair, her posture poised. The leather creaked faintly beneath her, though the warmth of the fire softened the chill that had clung to her skin since she’d arrived.

Jaster sank into his own seat with a kind of weary elegance, his large hands resting on the arms of the chair. He studied her again—longer this time—his sharp blue eyes seeming to measure something deeper than the surface.

“And what do you know of Alderia, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/n) met his gaze, calm despite the tension crackling softly in the air. “I know it is a planet unlike most in the Outer Rim. It thrives because its people believe in its beauty, its harmony. I know that legacy matters here.”

“Legacy.” Jaster repeated the word slowly, as though tasting its edges. His gaze turned toward the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes. “You understand, then, what is at stake.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she said gently.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and alive with unspoken things. Then, finally, Jaster leaned forward, his expression unreadable.

“Do you believe love can be found, Miss (Y/L/N)? Or is it simply a convenience we dress up in finer clothes?”

The question caught her off guard, though she didn’t show it.

She hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. “I believe love is where it’s most unexpected. It is rarely found—it’s discovered.”

For a heartbeat, the fire crackled louder than the space between them. Then something shifted in Jaster’s expression—a faint softening, perhaps, though it was gone almost as quickly as it came.

“Unexpected,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Finally, Jaster leaned back, his gaze settling on her once again.

“Very well, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “We shall see what it is you discover here.”

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The king’s words were not a dismissal, but they were far from a welcome.

This job—this planet—would be unlike any other.

And as she looked at the man before her, cloaked in firelight and the burden of his world, (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel it: the subtle, creeping certainty that Alderia had already begun to change her.

****

(Y/n) had always believed that a palace, no matter how grand, was not the heart of a world—its people were. Alderia, with its quiet beauty and timeless grace, had struck her deeply the moment she arrived, but the palace, however warm its firelight, still carried a weight she could not shake. She needed fresh air, needed to step out beyond the stone walls that hummed with centuries of whispers.

After unpacking her modest belongings in the chamber provided to her—a room lined with thick tapestries and velvet curtains that carried the faint scent of pine—(Y/n) changed into a more practical ensemble. She had traded her formal coat and boots for simpler attire: a dark cloak lined with fur at the collar, gloves to stave off the bite of winter, and soft leather boots that muffled her footsteps as she walked.

Slipping out of the palace had been easier than expected. The guards at the entryway, though vigilant, simply nodded respectfully as she passed. She had seen that nod before—a subtle acknowledgment of her position and, more importantly, a quiet curiosity. The matchmaker. A stranger.

The old town of Valford Prime welcomed her with open arms, though its embrace was brisk. The streets were alive in a way the palace could never be, bustling with the music of life—merchants calling out their wares, children laughing as they darted through narrow alleyways, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones. Above it all, twin moons Lumar and Ceera hung low, their pale glow softening the morning light.

***

The old town of Valford Prime was alive, its streets humming with a rhythm all their own—organic, vibrant, and timeless. The crisp winter air had settled into the crevices of cobbled lanes and market stalls, carrying the mingling scents of roasting nuts, fresh-baked bread, and something faintly floral. Overhead, narrow bridges connected weathered buildings, draped in vines hardened by frost, their windows aglow with amber light from within.

(Y/n) lingered at the edge of the square, letting the sounds and sights of this place wash over her. Markets like this were the pulse of any world, but here in Alderia, it felt different. Deliberate. Every moment was savored, every small interaction carried meaning, as though time itself bent to the will of the people.

She absently brushed her fingers over the pendant in her pocket—the winter rose carving gifted to her by the old vendor. Her heart had been warmed by the woman’s quiet reverence for the royal family, but it had also left her unsettled. The king’s grief hung over this planet like morning mist—something beautiful and tragic all at once. She wondered if his grandsons carried that same weight, if they felt the threads of history pulling tight against their every step.

***

The sound of laughter broke through her thoughts—a rich, rolling kind of laughter that came from the belly and pulled others along with it. (Y/n) turned toward its source, weaving through the throngs of market-goers until she spotted a heavy-set man behind a fruit stall. His skin was weathered bronze, his cheeks red from the cold, and his thick hands moved deftly as he peeled a citrus fruit the size of her fist.

“Oi, girl, you look lost!” he called to her with a voice as big as he was. “Or maybe you’re just trying to figure out how one fruit can look so strange.” He grinned and held up the half-peeled fruit, the vibrant orange skin spiraling down in one clean piece.

(Y/n) smiled, the man’s boisterous energy infectious. “I wouldn’t say lost,” she replied as she approached, tilting her head to examine the fruit. “Curious, perhaps.”

“Curious is good,” he said with a wag of his finger, “it means you’re alive. And on a cold day like this, I’ll take life over numb fingers any day.” He sliced off a chunk of the fruit and offered it to her on the flat edge of his knife. “Here. You can’t walk these streets without tasting them.”

(Y/n) hesitated only briefly before accepting the slice, her gloved fingers brushing the cool blade as she took it. The fruit’s juice burst across her tongue—bright, tart, and tangy, like sunlight distilled into flavor.

“That’s…” she paused, blinking in surprise. “Incredible.”

The man barked a laugh that startled a pigeon off a nearby ledge. “Alderian sunfruit, miss! They don’t grow anywhere else, no matter how hard those Coruscanti botanists try. You’ve got to let the soil sing to them.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but smile. “And does the soil sing to everything here?”

“Everything and everyone,” the man replied, his tone softening. His jovial exterior gave way to something gentler as he wiped his hands on a cloth and leaned against his stall. “That’s why we love this place. Alderia’s got a heart, girl. It’s old, and it’s strong, and we listen to it when it speaks.”

(Y/n) watched him carefully, noting the way his hands stilled and his gaze drifted toward the palace spires visible in the distance. The king. She didn’t need to ask to know that was what he thought of.

“The royal family?” she prompted softly, her words barely more than a breath. “Do they listen too?”

The man straightened, his large frame suddenly still, as though he were measuring her. “The king has given more of himself to this place than most men could,” he said finally. “He’s loved it, fought for it, bled for it—and lost for it, too.” He nodded toward the palace, his eyes soft but resolute. “Jaster’s a good man. The kind you don’t see much of anymore. And the boys? Well, we see their father in them.”

“Jango,” (Y/n) murmured, almost to herself.

The man’s face softened further, and he nodded slowly. “Aye. He was a good lad—brash, brave, and full of fire. The twins take after him the most, you know. Always stirring trouble, but their hearts are in the right place.”

(Y/n) tucked that bit of information away carefully, feeling as though each word, each sentiment, brought her closer to understanding this family she had been tasked with helping. She thanked the man with a sincere smile and turned to leave, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful with them,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “The royal family—they carry Alderia’s soul on their backs. They’re stronger than most, but even mountains crack under too much weight.”

***

approaching a small wooden stall draped in thick blankets of deep purple and teal. The vendor behind it was an older woman, her cheeks pink from the cold, her hands calloused and strong. A wooden carving of the Jolaris Mountains sat at the corner of the table, its edges smooth from being held. (Y/n)’s gloved fingers brushed it gently, tracing the peaks.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly, smiling as she met the woman’s curious gaze. “You carved this?”

The woman tilted her head, clearly surprised to see someone like (Y/n) standing here—someone whose finely tailored cloak marked her as not local. Still, her expression softened into something kind.

“My grandson did,” she said, her voice husky with age but filled with pride. “He’s good with his hands, that boy. Learnt from his father.”

(Y/n) picked up the carving, its weight solid and grounding in her palm. “The Jolaris. They look so much more alive here than they do from the palace.”

The woman chuckled, a dry sound that seemed to carry centuries of wisdom. ���The mountains were here before kings. They’ll be here long after. Carve them enough, you might just capture their spirit.”

(Y/n) smiled faintly, placing the carving back down. “How long have you lived here, in Valford Prime?”

The woman’s eyes gleamed. “Born here, just like my mother and her mother before her. Never left Alderia, though my eldest has. Went offworld to Coruscant. Too noisy there for me, but she loves it.”

(Y/n) leaned forward slightly, as though the question might slip from her lips if she wasn’t careful. “And the king? What do you think of him?”

It was a bold question. Too bold, maybe. But (Y/n) had always believed the truth of a royal family lay with its people.

The woman didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned her attention to the carving, running a finger along its edge. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a reverence tempered by understanding.

“King Jaster has seen more loss than most men would survive,” she said simply, looking up to meet (Y/n)’s gaze with eyes sharp as glass. “But he still stands. That’s no small thing.”

(Y/n) held her breath for a moment. He still stands.

“And his grandsons?” she asked, her tone gentler now, though she could feel the woman’s watchful gaze.

The woman’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “The boys are the heart of Alderia, even if they don’t know it yet. Cody carries the world on his back like his father. Rex? Well, he’s a storm—wild but good for the earth when he settles. The twins are trouble, but trouble’s not always bad, is it?” She chuckled to herself, her hands busily folding a thick blanket. “And Jesse—ah, the youngest has his father’s fire. That boy will burn bright when his time comes.”

Something in (Y/n)’s chest tightened as the woman spoke. There was no need to ask about their late father. Jango’s absence hung between the words unspoken, like a ghost that refused to rest.

****

(Y/n)’s steps were slower as she left the market square, her mind full. The fruit vendor’s words lingered in her thoughts, their simplicity carrying the kind of wisdom she had only ever found in people who lived close to the earth.

As she turned into a narrow alleyway, the scent of roasting chestnuts caught her attention. A small, sputtering fire crackled under an iron grate where an elderly man turned a pan slowly, humming a tune so low it blended with the pop of the coals. His clothes were rough, patched at the knees, and his cap was pulled low to shield his face from the cold. Yet his motions were unhurried, deliberate—as though each chestnut deserved his full care.

(Y/n) paused, her hands tucked into the warmth of her cloak. “That song,” she said quietly, tilting her head, “it’s beautiful. Where is it from?”

The man didn’t look up right away, his gnarled fingers moving with practiced ease. “Alderian lullaby,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “My grandmother sang it to me when I was small.” Finally, he lifted his head, his sharp eyes—clouded slightly with age—fixing on hers. “You’re not from here.”

“No,” (Y/n) admitted softly, stepping closer as the fire cast flickering shadows on the alley walls. “I’m not.”

“And yet you ask questions like you wish you were,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as though peering into her. “Why?”

“I like to understand,” she replied. “People, places. The stories they carry.”

The man’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Stories are heavy things, girl. You best know what you’re asking to hold.”

(Y/n) felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air as she crouched beside the fire. “And what of the king’s story? Or his family’s?”

The man turned the pan once more, the flames licking at the edges. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then you’ve seen it already.” He handed her a chestnut wrapped in a strip of cloth to protect her fingers. “Grief leaves marks on a man, but love does too. Jaster carries both. And those boys of his—” He paused, staring at the fire for a long moment, his voice dropping into something reverent. “They carry their father’s shadow like a torch. Bright and heavy.”

(Y/n) accepted the chestnut, its warmth spreading into her palm.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The old man gave her a slow, meaningful nod before turning back to his fire, the lullaby drifting up again like smoke curling into the sky.

***

“Here, miss,” the woman said suddenly, pulling (Y/n) from her thoughts. She held up a small, carved pendant—a tiny replica of the winter rose, smooth and delicate. “For you.”

(Y/n) blinked, startled. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Nonsense.” The woman pressed it into (Y/n)’s palm, her weathered fingers surprisingly gentle. “It’s a gift. A blessing, of sorts.”

(Y/n) closed her hand around it, the small carving warm from the woman’s touch. “Thank you,” she whispered, the words soft but heartfelt.

The woman nodded, a knowing glint in her eyes. “The winter rose blooms when it’s least expected. You’d do well to remember that.”

(Y/n) stared at her for a long moment, something unspoken shifting in her chest.

***

As (Y/n) walked back toward the palace, her fingers brushed over the pendant in her pocket and the flower in the other. The stories she had gathered today weighed on her, pressing against her ribs like something alive.

The royal family carried the soul of this world, she realized. The people saw them not as rulers, but as guardians—as the stewards of something ancient and sacred. And yet, for all their strength, there was fragility in that reverence, a quiet fear that too much weight might cause even the strongest to crumble.

The thought unnerved her, and yet it made her purpose here clearer than ever. She would need to tread carefully—because the stories of Alderia were alive, and they were watching.

****

The morning sun streamed through the high-arched windows of the palace, gilding the stone floors in warm light as (Y/n) walked briskly down the east corridor. Her boots tapped lightly against the polished marble, the sound punctuating the low murmur of palace activity—guards shifting in their stations, the occasional scuff of servant footsteps, the faint clang of dishes being prepared in kitchens beyond the hall. She could smell freshly baked bread mixed with the sharp, clean scent of frost from the gardens beyond, a reminder of the world waiting quietly outside.

Despite the serene grandeur of her surroundings, her mind was far less settled. Her walk through the old town the day before still lingered in her thoughts—every word the locals had shared, every unspoken weight they had carried. The royal family—they carry Alderia’s soul. She had begun to see why, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange kinship with the people who spoke of their rulers with such reverence.

And today, she would meet the eldest of them—the weight bearer himself.

***

(Y/n) stood outside a set of ornate double doors, the dark wood carved with intricate patterns of twisting vines and winter roses. The library she had been ushered to yesterday seemed intimate in comparison. This room felt formal, imposing. A meeting chamber for royalty. She shifted her weight, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her sleeves, before straightening and raising her chin. Whatever she felt—curiosity, unease, determination—would stay locked firmly beneath the polished surface she wore so well.

A soft knock. The doors creaked open.

A steward gestured her forward, his tone courteous but impersonal. “The Crown Prince will meet you now.”

The Crown Prince. Just the title felt like a stone laid upon her chest, as though the man beyond this door was more responsibility than person. (Y/n) stepped inside.

***

The room was enormous, its high ceilings supported by stone pillars that swept upward like trees in an ancient forest. A long table stretched across the center, its surface immaculate save for a neatly arranged pile of star charts and datapads at one end. Pale curtains hung on either side of the tall windows, filtering sunlight until it cast faint gold patterns across the polished floor.

At the far end, near one of the windows, stood Cody.

(Y/n) recognized him instantly—not from photographs, but because he looked exactly as she imagined he would. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a kind of effortless authority that couldn’t be taught. He wore a high-collared tunic of deep navy and silver, the colors of Alderia, and his hair was neatly cut, though a faint line of stubble softened the sharp angles of his jaw.

He was not handsome in the way of effortless charm, as (Y/n) suspected Rex might be, but there was a gravity about him—something anchored and unyielding, as though he belonged to the very stone of the palace itself.

As she approached, Cody turned, his movements precise, controlled. His gaze landed on her, clear and cool as glass.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he said. His voice was calm, even polite, but it carried an edge—like a door that wasn’t entirely open. “You’ve come early.”

(Y/n) offered a small, measured smile, hands clasped in front of her. “A good matchmaker learns to value time, Your Highness.”

The faintest flicker of something—perhaps amusement—crossed Cody’s face before it was gone. He nodded to the steward, who gave a bow and silently exited the room, leaving them alone.

“Please.” Cody gestured to a small sitting area by the window where two chairs and a low table waited. “Sit.”

****

(Y/n) took her seat with practiced poise, watching Cody as he moved to sit across from her. He lowered himself into the chair with a sense of measured purpose. It struck her then that everything about him—the way he stood, the way he moved, even the way he sat—was deliberate, as though he had rehearsed every step of his life.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Cody looked at her, not coldly, but with the unblinking focus of someone who was used to examining others. It wasn’t a cruel stare, but it wasn’t kind either. It was… neutral.

“Do you enjoy your room?” he asked finally, the words careful, almost perfunctory.

“Yes, thank you,” (Y/n) replied. “It’s beautiful. I walked the old town yesterday as well. Your planet—your people—are extraordinary.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Cody’s tone was light, but the faintest edge of skepticism brushed against it, as though he were testing her.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, folding her hands in her lap. “I wasn’t looking for anything. I was listening.”

That seemed to catch him off guard, though he hid it well. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough for her to notice. “Listening?”

“Yes.” She kept her voice calm, steady, though she chose each word deliberately. “I find that people tell you the most important things when you listen—not just to what they say, but how they say it.”

“Is that how you work?” Cody asked, his gaze steady. “You listen and decide who fits where?”

There it is. The resistance she had expected, the skepticism carefully veiled behind civility. She leaned forward slightly, holding his gaze. “I don’t decide anything, Your Highness. I find connections. The decision is yours.”

His mouth quirked faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not,” (Y/n) said honestly, letting a hint of warmth into her tone. “But neither is ruling a planet, I imagine.”

For the briefest moment, (Y/n) thought she saw a flicker of something real—a weariness that lived beneath his armor—but it disappeared almost instantly. Cody shifted slightly in his chair, straightening, his posture becoming even more rigid.

“I’ll be candid, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, his voice cool. “I didn’t ask for you to come here.”

(Y/n) blinked, the words settling like stones in her chest. “I understand. But you must know why I’m here.”

Cody’s jaw tightened faintly, and his gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the light caught on the snowy peaks of the Jolaris Mountains, and for a moment, he seemed far away. “I know why he brought you here,” he murmured. The way he said it—he—was laced with quiet frustration, though there was no disrespect in it.

“The king,” (Y/n) said softly.

“Yes.” Cody’s gaze snapped back to her, sharp and unwavering. “I know my duty. I’ve known it since I was a child. But I have no interest in parading myself for your lists and your calculations.”

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten, though she refused to let it show. Instead, she smiled—gently, without condescension. “I don’t think you are a man who would ever parade himself, Your Highness.”

That caught him again, though he masked it quickly. For a heartbeat, the two of them simply looked at one another, the quiet stretching like a rope pulled taut. Cody was not unkind, nor was he arrogant—but there was a wall around him, thick and unyielding, built from years of expectation.

***

Finally, he stood, smoothing his hand over the edge of his coat. “I’ll cooperate with my grandfather’s wishes,” he said, his tone measured once more. “But don’t expect me to make it easy.”

(Y/n) rose as well, meeting him at eye level, her expression calm but unwavering. “I never expect anything, Your Highness. I observe. And I listen.”

Cody looked at her for a long moment, as though trying to decide whether her words carried sincerity or cleverness. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Good day, Miss (Y/L/N).”

With that, he turned, his footsteps firm and deliberate as he strode toward the door. (Y/n) let out a slow breath as the latch clicked shut behind him.

The meeting had not been unkind, but it had left her unsettled. Cody was not a man who would ever allow himself to be easily understood, and yet, beneath his quiet resistance, (Y/n) could feel it: the weight of duty pressing against him like stone.

She looked out the window to the Jolaris peaks, watching the sunlight spill across their icy crowns, and wondered how long even a man like Cody could carry such a burden alone.

****

The meeting with Cody lingered in (Y/n)’s mind like a splinter she couldn’t remove. The prince had been courteous, polite even, but distant in a way that left her feeling like a mere afterthought in his day. There had been no warmth to his words, no openness to his gaze—just walls, high and unyielding, built brick by brick from a lifetime of expectation.  

Still, she couldn’t be angry. How could she? Cody wasn’t dismissive out of cruelty but necessity. Duty had shaped him into a man who wore his responsibility like armor, polished to perfection but heavy to bear. *The weight of a crown isn’t always gold,* she thought, as she let her feet carry her down the wide palace hallways.

The corridor she wandered into now seemed different—quieter, with an air of reverence. The faintest echo of her footsteps traveled down the stone walls, and she slowed her pace, the silence urging her to tread softly. This part of the palace, it seemed, belonged to memories. 

***

Paintings lined the walls, gilded frames glowing faintly in the golden light spilling through tall, arched windows. Each canvas was a piece of history frozen in time—kings and queens of Alderia, some stoic, others kind, their eyes following her as she passed. The faces seemed alive, as though they were watching her closely, curious about this stranger who dared walk their halls.

(Y/n) stopped in front of one particular painting. It was a portrait of a young man with blue-gray eyes and a confident, roguish smile. His dark hair was swept back in a way that suggested he hadn’t cared too much for formality. He wore a prince’s coat—rich navy blue, lined with silver—but the way he slouched just slightly told her that the man beneath the clothes had been carefree.  

“Jango,” she whispered under her breath, as though the name might summon the man himself. It had to be him; the resemblance to the current princes was unmistakable.  

Her gaze softened as she took in every detail of the painting, from the hint of mischief in Jango’s smirk to the worn edge of a leather glove on his left hand. *A man who was never meant to be still,* she thought, *and yet here he is.* She wondered how much of him remained in his sons—how much of that fire had been inherited.

She sighed softly, feeling that familiar knot of responsibility tug at her chest. This family, this planet—it was all so much larger than what she could see. And yet here she was, standing in the middle of it.

“Admiring the handsome ones, are we?”

***

The voice broke through the quiet like a spark, warm and teasing, startling (Y/n) just enough that she turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat.  

There, leaning lazily against the stone archway she’d just passed, was **Rex**.  

For a moment, (Y/n) could only blink, as though the man before her had been conjured straight from the painting. He looked startlingly like Jango, though his face was less polished—his jaw was scruffed with golden stubble, and his blond hair was unruly, strands falling stubbornly over his forehead. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as though the weight of the world that sat so heavily on Cody’s shoulders didn’t exist here. 

And then there were his eyes—blue-gray like a stormy sea, alive with something (Y/n) couldn’t name.  

“Forgive me,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping into the light filtering through the window. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your staring contest.”  

(Y/n) found her voice, though it came out more measured than she intended. “I wasn’t staring. I was… observing.”

The corner of Rex’s mouth quirked upward in a half-smile, one brow arching in obvious amusement. “Observation looks a lot like admiration from where I’m standing.”

(Y/n)’s lips pressed together, though she couldn’t help the hint of color that warmed her cheeks. “And you are…?”

He grinned wider at that, as though enjoying her reaction. “I’m Rex,” he said simply, inclining his head in a mock bow. “Second-born spare to the throne of Alderia, expert at sneaking out of meetings I don’t want to attend, and—apparently—the cause of your current blush.”

(Y/n) straightened, smoothing her hands over her cloak as though brushing away the fluster she felt bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “I wasn’t blushing.”

“You’re blushing now,” Rex said, his tone teasing but gentle, his gaze lingering on her face as though he were memorizing it.  

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, regaining her composure. “And I wasn’t staring at you either. I was looking at the painting.”

“Of my father.” Rex’s voice softened just slightly at the mention of Jango, his teasing tone taking on something quieter. (Y/n) glanced up, noticing the way his gaze flicked briefly to the portrait behind her, his smile dimming ever so slightly.  

“Yes,” she said softly. “He seems… remarkable.” 

Rex’s gaze lingered on the painting a moment longer before he looked back at her, his smile returning, though this time it carried something softer—something real. “He was.”

There was a pause—long enough for (Y/n) to feel the air shift between them, subtle but certain. She hadn’t expected this—a meeting so unguarded, so unexpectedly *personal.* For all Rex’s casual charm, there was something in his eyes that she recognized: a quiet depth, a place where lightness gave way to something unspoken.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Rex said finally, breaking the moment but not the connection. “You’re not palace staff, and you don’t look like one of Cody’s political friends.” He tilted his head, curiosity shining through. “Who are you?”

(Y/n) hesitated, feeling that this moment—this first impression—was delicate. It was rare to meet someone who didn’t immediately view her as *the matchmaker*. Rare to meet someone who simply saw her.

“My name is (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” she said carefully, holding his gaze. “And you’re right—I’m not political. I’ve been brought here to… assist.”  

“With what?”

“Your brother.”  

Something flickered across Rex’s face—surprise first, then understanding. His grin returned, slow and unmistakable. “Ah, so you’re the *matchmaker.*”  

The word sat between them, heavy and familiar, but Rex said it without mockery. If anything, there was a hint of intrigue in his tone, as though she’d just become far more interesting.  

(Y/n) nodded, though her expression stayed composed. “I am.”

Rex crossed his arms loosely, one brow arching again. “And how’s that going for you so far?”

(Y/n) allowed herself a small smile, though her thoughts returned to her meeting with Cody—the walls, the formality. “It’s… early.”

Rex chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, as though she’d said something funny without intending to. “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”  

“You didn’t have to.” He grinned again, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Cody’s about as easy to talk to as a stone wall, but you’ll get used to him. He’s a good man under all that steel.”

(Y/n) felt a faint tug at the corner of her mouth. “You say that like you’re nothing like him.”

“I’m not,” Rex said with a shrug. “At least, not on the surface.”  

The way he said it made her pause. It was casual, dismissive almost, but (Y/n) could feel the truth woven into it. For all his lightness, for all his charm, there were pieces of Rex that ran far deeper than he let on.

***

Silence settled between them again—not awkward, not tense, but *there*. (Y/n) felt it in her chest, a kind of awareness she couldn’t explain. She studied Rex’s face as though searching for something unspoken, and for a moment, she thought he might be looking for the same in her.  

“Well,” Rex said finally, breaking the quiet with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to observing things that aren’t me.”  

(Y/n) rolled her eyes softly, though her smile lingered. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Anytime.” Rex took a step back, but his gaze lingered on her, his expression thoughtful in a way she hadn’t expected. Then, with a slight nod, he turned and disappeared around the corner, his footsteps soft but steady.

***

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her gaze drifted back to Jango’s painting, but the man in the portrait felt less like the focus now.  

Instead, it was Rex’s face—his grin, his eyes, the way he looked at her like he’d seen something worth remembering—that stayed with her.

And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt something shift within herself, subtle but certain—like the first flake of snow before a storm.  

***

### **The Ballroom of Invitations**

The sun dipped low in the Alderian sky, pouring golden light through the palace’s tall, arched windows. (Y/n) sat at a wide desk positioned in one of the palace’s grand halls, a makeshift workspace surrounded by towering shelves of tomes and thick velvet drapes. The room itself had been transformed under her hands: holoscreens hovered in mid-air, glowing softly as they displayed dossiers, planetary maps, and cultural breakdowns. A meticulous array of datapads sat in perfect order on the desk, alongside a steaming cup of tea now long forgotten.

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed slightly as she glanced over her list, her stylus tapping rhythmically against the desk. The names, their titles, their descriptions—it was all beginning to blur together, but she couldn’t afford to overlook even the smallest detail.  

The day had been relentless. Invitations had to be sent across Alderia and beyond: noble daughters from the sprawling estates in the Naldorian Reach, princesses from neighboring systems, and heirs from dignified lineages in far-off star clusters. She’d read through their profiles, cross-referenced family reputations, and considered how they might fit into Alderia’s unspoken rhythm. She had no intention of bringing anyone here who couldn’t understand this place—this *weight.*  

And yet, as she set down the stylus and pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaustion began to settle into her shoulders. The names were only words on a page, and despite her experience—despite her confidence in her ability—she felt a strange unease. *How do you find someone to fit a man like Cody,* she wondered, *when the walls around him are stronger than steel?*  

The room’s silence was punctuated only by the occasional hiss of a hovering holo shutting itself down as she dismissed the final dossier for the day. Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, the last light of day painting the room in fiery hues of orange and gold. She had done her part. Tomorrow, the nobles and dignitaries would begin arriving, and the task of introductions would begin.  

The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps cut through the quiet.

(Y/n) turned instinctively, her hand lowering from her face as a familiar voice echoed across the marble floor.  

“Well, would you look at this,” Rex drawled, his tone light, teasing, but edged with something more curious. “I thought this was the ballroom. Turns out it’s just the nerve center of a galactic operation.” 

(Y/n) sighed softly, though she couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile at the corner of her lips as Rex stepped further into the room. He wasn’t wearing the finely tailored uniform she’d seen on him yesterday. Instead, he wore something softer—a loose navy tunic rolled at the sleeves and dark trousers, an outfit that made him look far less like a prince and far more like a man at ease with himself. His golden hair was still a mess, as though he’d run his fingers through it carelessly, and his ever-present half-smile suggested that he was always on the brink of mischief.  

“Shouldn’t you be doing something more important?” (Y/n) asked, leaning back slightly as Rex perched himself on the edge of a nearby table, completely unbothered by the papers and datapads spread across its surface.

“I could ask you the same question,” he countered, tilting his head. His gaze lingered briefly on the organized chaos of her work before settling back on her face, sharp and curious. “But judging by all of *this,*” he gestured vaguely to the glowing holoscreens, “it seems you’ve already taken over half the palace.”  

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “It’s called preparation. You should try it sometime.”

“Preparation,” Rex repeated, as though testing the word, before shaking his head with a grin. “I prefer improvisation. It’s more fun.”

“I’m sure your tutors loved that.”

“Oh, they adored me,” he replied, his tone deadpan but his grin widening when (Y/n) huffed a soft laugh. “I was their favorite.” 

“Of course you were,” (Y/n) murmured, shaking her head as she began to straighten a few of the datapads before her. She felt Rex watching her, though not in a way that unsettled her. It wasn’t the kind of assessing gaze she had encountered so many times before—calculating, cold, expecting something of her. No, Rex’s gaze was warm, curious, as though he was looking for something *real* in her.  

“You’ve been working all day, haven’t you?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer this time. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone push this hard since Cody spent a month reorganizing the kingdom’s census data.”

(Y/n) paused, her fingers brushing over the edge of a datapad as she glanced up at him. “It’s important work.”

“I’m sure it is,” Rex replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “But it’s also going to be here tomorrow, and the day after that. You, on the other hand, look like you could use a break.”

(Y/n) arched a brow, though her voice remained measured. “And I suppose you’re here to offer one?”

“Exactly.” Rex pushed himself off the table with the easy grace of someone who had never felt out of place in his own skin. “Consider me your palace guide.”

“My *what?*”

“Palace guide,” he repeated, as though the term were perfectly obvious. “You know, someone to show you all the things you’re missing while you’re busy playing matchmaker.” He grinned as he stepped closer, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. “You’ve seen the ballroom. You’ve seen the library. But have you seen the royal snowball arsenal?”  

(Y/n) blinked. “The what?”

“You heard me,” he said, his grin widening as though he enjoyed her confusion. “It’s top-secret, of course. State-of-the-art construction, unparalleled in firepower. Only the bravest souls dare wield its might.”

(Y/n) stared at him, torn between disbelief and amusement. “You’re joking.”

“I’m *serious*,” Rex replied, his voice low and dramatic, though his eyes sparkled with laughter. “It’s a critical part of the palace defenses during winter. You never know when an ambush might occur.”

Against her better judgment, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble in her chest—a soft, genuine sound that startled her as much as it seemed to please Rex. “I highly doubt that’s on the palace schematics.”

“That’s because I built it myself,” he said proudly, before extending a hand toward her. “Come on. I’m not letting you spend another minute in here surrounded by datapads and dead nobles.”  

(Y/n) hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and her work. For a moment, she considered refusing. There were still messages to send, details to finalize, and she didn’t have the luxury of—  

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Rex said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s just a walk. A little break from the world you’re trying to fix.”

His words settled in her chest, and suddenly, the decision didn’t seem quite so difficult. Slowly, she pushed herself up from her chair and smoothed her cloak, trying not to let him see the small smile pulling at her lips.  

“All right,” she said finally, meeting his gaze. “But if this so-called arsenal doesn’t exist—”

“You’ll never trust me again,” Rex finished with a grin, his voice warm and teasing as he gestured for her to follow. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

(Y/n) shook her head softly, though there was no hiding the faint amusement tugging at her mouth as she followed him toward the hallway.  

She didn’t know what it was about him—this prince who didn’t act like a prince—that unsettled her in ways she couldn’t explain. There was something light about him, as though he carried the weight of the world differently than anyone she had ever met. He made her forget, for just a moment, the impossible task waiting for her tomorrow.

(Y/n) walked alongside Rex through the winding palace halls, her footsteps quick as she tried to match his longer strides. There was something carefree about him, a quiet confidence that made her feel both at ease and on edge all at once. The grandness of the palace around them seemed less imposing with him beside her, the cold stone softened by his lighthearted presence.

“You didn’t tell me where we’re going,” (Y/n) said after a moment, her voice holding a note of suspicion.

Rex turned to glance at her, his mouth quirking upward into a playful smile. “I thought I did. The royal snowball arsenal.”

(Y/n) sighed, though it wasn’t an exasperated sound so much as it was one of reluctant amusement. “You do realize I don’t believe a word of this, right?”

“Trust me, it’s real,” Rex said, his tone mock-serious as they passed yet another corridor. “But before we get there, we have to pass through… enemy territory.”

“Enemy territory?”

Rex’s eyes gleamed with a spark of mischief as they turned a corner into a long, airy hallway. Sunlight streamed in through wide windows, catching the frost-rimmed edges of the glass. Tapestries swayed slightly as cold drafts snuck in through unseen cracks. Something in the air felt... alive.  

(Y/n) slowed slightly, her gaze shifting warily from side to side. “What do you mean by—”

The words hadn’t fully left her mouth before a snowball, perfectly round and startlingly fast, flew from nowhere and hit Rex square in the shoulder.  

“Ambush!” Rex shouted dramatically, staggering back with a hand pressed to his chest as though mortally wounded. “(Y/n)! They’ve got me!”

(Y/n) blinked, wide-eyed, before another snowball arced toward her. She barely managed to duck in time, her heart skipping a beat as it smacked into the wall with a dull thud.  

“Oh, no,” Rex groaned, still clutching his chest in exaggerated agony. “It’s worse than I thought. The twins are here.”

“The what—”

“Boys!” Rex suddenly shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “This is treason! You’re attacking a guest of the palace!”

Laughter, wild and unrepentant, rang out from somewhere above. (Y/n) tilted her head back, searching for its source, and spotted two identical faces peering down from a narrow ledge built into the wall near the ceiling. Both grins were identical—a mix of childlike glee and calculated mischief that only the truly confident could pull off.

“*Treason*?” one of them called back, his voice rich with laughter. “Oh, come now, Rex. That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Only *you* would call it dramatic, Fives,” Rex muttered, brushing snow from his shoulder with a sigh.  

The other twin elbowed his brother lightly, smirking down at (Y/n). “You’re missing the important detail. Who’s this, Rex? She looks… suspiciously dignified for your company.”

(Y/n), who had been frozen in surprise, blinked at the pair of them. They were younger than Rex, perhaps early twenties, with sharp features softened by their shared mischief. Where Rex had golden-blond hair, theirs was a darker shade, more brown with hints of copper that caught the light. And though they were identical in face and voice, there was something subtly different about the way they carried themselves—Fives, the louder of the two, had a sharper edge to his grin, while the other, Echo, watched her with an assessing curiosity that didn’t quite match his brother’s antics.

“I’m (Y/n),” she said finally, brushing a stray snowflake off her coat. “The… matchmaker.”

The twins froze for half a second before Fives barked out a laugh. “The *what*?”

“You heard her,” Rex cut in dryly, crossing his arms as he looked up at them. “She’s here to find Cody the perfect bride.”

Fives groaned dramatically, flopping forward over the ledge so that his arms dangled down. “Poor Cody. He’ll have to practice smiling again.”

Echo shoved Fives’ shoulder, though he smirked faintly. “Ignore him. You’ll find he has a unique talent for talking nonsense.” 

“Unique *and* unmatched,” Fives added smugly, pushing himself upright. “Now, (Y/n)—did Rex tell you about the snowball arsenal? Because you’re standing in it.”

(Y/n) turned sharply to Rex, raising an eyebrow. “This is the arsenal?”

Rex shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Technically, it’s their arsenal. I just like to call it mine.”

Before (Y/n) could respond, Fives lobbed another snowball down, this time aiming for Rex’s head. Rex sidestepped smoothly, the snowball smacking harmlessly into the floor with a wet splat.  

“*Missed.*” Rex smirked, shaking his head as though deeply disappointed.  

“Coward,” Fives retorted. “You’ll have to come up here and fight us properly!”

Echo leaned over the edge, his sharp gaze landing on (Y/n) again. “Unless you’d like to join our side, Miss Matchmaker. Rex tends to lose these battles.”  

(Y/n) looked from one twin to the other, still processing the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, standing in a centuries-old palace, being ambushed by two grown men who looked as though they’d never left their boyhood antics behind. Yet instead of annoyance, she felt the laughter bubbling inside her again—unexpected, uncontrollable.

“This…” she said slowly, unable to stop the smile pulling at her lips, “might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Fives grinned triumphantly. “And the most fun, I bet.”

Rex sighed, though (Y/n) saw the way his own mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a smile. “Congratulations,” he called up to them, his voice dry. “You’ve scared away the matchmaker. Now she’ll run back to the library and tell Cody he’s doomed.”

“Oh, we *like* her,” Fives said, nudging Echo. “She’ll fit in perfectly.”

Echo nodded once, his expression calm but his eyes glinting with mischief. “Be careful, Miss (Y/n). Rex has a habit of pulling people into trouble.”

(Y/n) glanced at Rex, who was now watching her with his arms still crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Rex said smoothly. “They’re just jealous because I’m taller.”

Fives’ outraged “*What?!*” was followed immediately by Echo’s bark of laughter, but (Y/n) didn’t hear it. Her gaze was still on Rex, who was watching her in that same way he had in the hallway the day before—curious, almost searching. It made her stomach flip, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Come on,” Rex said after a beat, offering her his arm as though nothing had happened. “Let’s get out of the line of fire before they bring in reinforcements.”

(Y/n) hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand through his arm. The action felt natural, though it startled her how *easy* it was to be around him.  

“They’re not what I expected,” she murmured as they walked away, the twins’ laughter echoing behind them.

Rex chuckled softly. “They never are.”

(Y/n) glanced up at him, her smile softening. “And what about you, Rex? Are you what people expect?”

Rex looked down at her, his grin faltering for just a moment before returning—softer this time, but not insincere. “Depends on who’s asking.”

(Y/n) said nothing to that, though her hand lingered on his arm a little longer than it needed to.

And neither of them noticed the twins watching from above, their eyes sharp and knowing as they disappeared back into their hiding place.

****

The days fell into an intricate rhythm, one that (Y/n) hadn’t anticipated but found herself adapting to with startling ease. The weight of her work—the lists, the arrangements, the schedules—had grown heavier as the reality of what lay ahead came into sharper focus. In four weeks, the palace would host the grand Christmas ball. The event wasn’t just a glittering celebration; it was a turning point, a moment where the crown prince of Alderia would dance with his possible future bride.

(Y/n) had reviewed the guest list over and over again—princesses, noblewomen, heirs from far-reaching systems. Their faces were etched into her memory, their histories neatly filed away in her mind. Soon, she would meet them in person, would usher them into carefully curated sessions designed to test compatibility, poise, and connection. It was the kind of meticulous work she was accustomed to, the kind that required focus, control, and precision.

But her carefully structured days were being sabotaged. And it was entirely Rex’s fault.

***

(Y/n) leaned over her desk, a furrow creasing her brow as she moved small holocards into neat rows. Each card bore the name of a potential candidate, along with her respective lineage, planetary origin, and other relevant details. The sunlight streaming through the wide window nearby highlighted her deliberate movements—the press of her fingertip against the hovering cards, the slow nod as she considered placements.

“Focused, aren’t we?”

(Y/n) jumped, the voice pulling her sharply out of her thoughts. She turned to find Rex leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed, his grin unabashed. He was dressed in another simple tunic, this one the color of deep wine, his sleeves pushed up as if to deliberately resist the palace’s insistence on formality. His blond hair was as unruly as ever, as though he’d ridden through a windstorm and hadn’t bothered to fix it.  

“Rex,” (Y/n) sighed, straightening slowly as she tried to school her expression into one of neutrality. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to watch you mumble to yourself about someone named Lady Arla and decide that you need rescuing.” He pushed off the doorway, his boots making a soft sound against the marble floor as he approached.

“I don’t need rescuing.” (Y/n) turned back to her holocards, pretending to be entirely unfazed. “I’m working. You should try it sometime.”

He gave a mock gasp of offense, pressing a hand to his chest as though wounded. “I *do* work. I’m a vital member of this palace.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, though a smile threatened to tug at her lips. “Vital for causing chaos, perhaps.”

“Ah, you *do* see my value,” Rex said, grinning as he stepped closer to her desk and leaned forward, peering at the hovering cards with mock interest. “Who’s this? Lady Talia of Serenno?” He prodded at one of the holos, tilting his head. “She looks very… composed.”

“Rex,” (Y/n) warned, though her voice lacked any real bite. She reached to swipe his hand away, but he was faster, sliding the card to the side like a mischievous child.  

“Do you know what you need?” Rex asked, straightening up and turning to face her. His blue-gray eyes gleamed with a spark that made her wary. “A break.”

“I don’t have time for a break,” (Y/n) replied firmly, her hand hovering mid-air as she tried to re-organize the cards. “The Christmas ball is in four weeks, and everything must be perfect.”

“Perfect can wait an afternoon,” he shot back easily, moving to stand between her and her work. “And besides, you’ll work better if you clear your head. I’m taking you to the royal sledding races.”

(Y/n) blinked at him, confused. “The what?”

“Sledding races,” Rex repeated, grinning like a man who had already won. “It’s tradition. Every year around Christmas, we—meaning me, the twins, Jesse, and occasionally Cody—risk life and limb to see who can hurtle themselves down a hill of packed snow the fastest.”

“That doesn’t sound like a royal tradition,” (Y/n) said dryly, folding her arms.

“It’s *our* tradition,” Rex countered, his grin softening slightly. “It started when we were boys, back when Grandfather let us run wild in the snow. Now, it’s a matter of pride.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“You’re coming,” Rex said simply. “As my sledding partner.”

(Y/n) gave him a look. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Rex leaned closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “If you say yes, I promise to leave your work alone for the rest of the day.”

(Y/n) hesitated, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “The rest of the *day*?”

Rex held up his hands, mock-serious. “Scout’s honor.”

(Y/n) sighed, her resolve softening under the sheer weight of his persistence. “Fine. But if I fall off whatever contraption you’re calling a sled, I’ll blame you.”

“Deal,” Rex said cheerfully, already turning toward the door. “Come on, matchmaker. We’ve got a hill to conquer.”

***

The cold hit her first. Crisp and sharp, it nipped at (Y/n)’s cheeks and nose as Rex led her outside onto the sprawling palace grounds. Snow blanketed everything—thick, pristine, and sparkling under the pale light of the Alderian sun. The gardens, so carefully tended, had transformed into a winter wonderland, their fountains frozen into sculptures of ice.

In the distance, (Y/n) spotted a wide hill sloping down toward the forest edge. Its surface had been packed down and smoothed by use, with a handful of sleds—sleek wooden contraptions reinforced with metal runners—lined up at its crest.

Rex led her up the hill, his boots crunching rhythmically through the snow. “All right,” he said once they reached the top, turning to gesture grandly at the sleds. “Behold the crown jewel of Alderian winter sports.”

(Y/n) glanced down the slope and felt her stomach drop. “That looks… steep.”

“Steep makes it fun.” Rex grinned, grabbing one of the sleds and dragging it closer. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Trust you?” (Y/n) asked skeptically, though there was no real resistance in her voice. “That’s asking a lot.”

Rex’s expression softened, though his grin didn’t fade entirely. “You’ll see.”

Before (Y/n) could respond, a shout echoed up from the base of the hill. She turned to see **Fives and Echo** standing in the snow, already halfway down the slope, waving up at them with wild enthusiasm.  

“You’re late, Rex!” Fives called, his voice carrying easily across the open air. “We’ve already claimed victory!”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Rex called back, grinning as he crouched to position the sled. He looked up at (Y/n), extending a hand toward her. “Come on. I’ll steer.”

(Y/n) hesitated, the wind tugging gently at her cloak as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes—something warm, inviting, and completely unguarded—that made it impossible to say no. With a small sigh, she knelt beside him and carefully settled onto the sled, clutching the edge with both hands.

Rex leaned closer, his voice low in her ear. “Hold on tight.”

She barely had time to process the words before the sled lurched forward, the runners gliding smoothly against the packed snow. The wind roared past her ears as they gained speed, the world blurring into a rush of white and blue. (Y/n)’s heart leapt into her throat, and for a split second, she forgot how to breathe.

Then—she laughed.

It bubbled out of her, wild and breathless, a sound that surprised even her as it mingled with Rex’s whoop of triumph. Snow sprayed up around them as the sled tore down the hill, the cold biting at her skin, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, she felt *alive*—as though all the weight she carried had been lifted and scattered to the wind.

At the bottom of the hill, Fives and Echo were waiting, already in the midst of building an impromptu snow barricade. (Y/n) stumbled off the sled, breathless, her cheeks flushed from laughter and cold. Rex stood beside her, grinning, his blond hair dusted with snow.

“You’re smiling,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone.

(Y/n) blinked up at him, surprised. “I suppose I am.”

High above them, standing at one of the palace windows, **Cody** watched the scene unfold. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, but his expression was no longer guarded. A faint smile played at the edges of his mouth, his gaze lingering on Rex and (Y/n) as they laughed in the snow. He said nothing, but there was an understanding in his eyes—a quiet recognition of something beginning to bloom.  

He turned away from the window and walked back into the shadows of the palace, his thoughts unspoken, his smile lingering.

Outside, (Y/n) brushed snow from her coat, still breathless as Rex grinned down at her.  

“Ready for another run?” he asked.

(Y/n) shook her head, though her smile remained. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Rex replied, his gaze softening, “here you are.”

Neither of them noticed the way the sun, low on the horizon, painted the snow gold—its light casting long shadows as the day slowly slipped toward evening.

***

The palace was quieter now, its wide corridors muffled by the weight of the morning’s efforts. (Y/n) sat at the far end of the grand dining hall, a quiet corner where no one had yet noticed her absence. The rest of the room still hummed with quiet conversation, the noblewomen and visiting princesses seated in neat rows of polished chairs, sipping delicately at their drinks and speaking in hushed tones that bordered on polite gossip.

Twenty introductions. Twenty carefully planned moments meant to foster connection, ease, and grace.

(Y/n) let out a slow, exhausted breath, her fingertips tracing absent patterns on the linen tablecloth before her. It didn’t go as planned.

It wasn’t a complete disaster, but there were cracks—cracks she hadn’t anticipated. Cody had been polite, almost flawlessly so, but polite wasn’t enough. Politeness lacked warmth. It lacked connection. He had stood stiffly in place like a soldier on parade, greeting each woman with the faintest smile, his words measured and impersonal. He hadn’t engaged, not really, and though none of the women had dared say so aloud, (Y/n) could feel it in their subtle glances and hesitant smiles.

It had been like watching dancers out of step with the music—each one lovely and perfect on their own, but unable to move as one.

And the blame, (Y/n) decided, sat squarely on her shoulders.

You’re supposed to be the best, her mind whispered accusingly. This is what you do. You don’t fail.

She sighed again, rolling her shoulders as though trying to shake off the weight pressing against them. Her tea had gone cold hours ago, and her appetite was nowhere to be found. She stared blankly out the wide windows to her left, where sunlight spilled in golden shafts across the far mountains.

“Are you hiding, or do you just like brooding in corners?”

(Y/n)’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden voice cutting through her thoughts. Rex stood at the edge of the table, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, that ever-present spark of mischief in his eyes. He tilted his head as he regarded her, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles.

“I’m not hiding,” (Y/n) said defensively, sitting up straighter and smoothing her hands over her skirt. “And I certainly don’t brood.”

“Ah.” Rex nodded thoughtfully as though he didn’t believe a word of it. “That explains the tragic sighing and staring dramatically into the middle distance. Very dignified.”

“Rex…” (Y/n) began, but he cut her off by sliding into the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation.

“Let me guess,” he said, leaning back with an almost lazy confidence. “The meetings didn’t go well.”

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, though there was no real heat behind it. “You weren’t even there.”

“I didn’t have to be.” Rex shrugged, his gaze lingering on her face, softer now, more observant. “You’re sitting here with the same look Cody wears after reading a hundred tax reports. That’s a bad sign.”

(Y/n) let out a quiet, reluctant laugh—short and breathless—but it was enough to ease some of the tightness in her chest. “It wasn’t a disaster,” she admitted, folding her arms on the table, “but it didn’t go the way I’d hoped.”

Rex’s smile dimmed slightly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “Let me guess,” he said, his voice gentler now, though the teasing lilt hadn’t fully left. “Cody was… Cody.”

(Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Polite but distant. He treated the entire process like a military inspection.”

“Sounds about right.” Rex sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Don’t take it personally. Cody’s not great at being himself in rooms full of strangers.”

(Y/n) looked at him curiously. “And what is he like when he is himself?”

Rex paused, his expression thoughtful as though he hadn’t quite expected the question. “Quiet,” he said after a moment. “Steady. He’s the man you want beside you in a storm because he’ll never waver. But he keeps his heart close to the chest. Too close, sometimes.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, her fingers toying with the edge of the tablecloth. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmured softly, almost to herself. “That he won’t let anyone in.”

Rex studied her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as though seeing her more clearly than she’d like. “You care,” he said finally, the words quiet but certain.

(Y/n) blinked, caught off guard. “Of course I care. It’s my job.”

“No,” Rex said softly, shaking his head. “It’s more than that.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest, but Rex was already standing, his chair scraping softly against the floor. “Come on.”

She frowned up at him. “Come on where?”

“You need cheering up,” Rex replied matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything. “And I’ve got just the thing.”

“Rex, I have work—”

“Your work will still be here when you get back.” He held out a hand to her, his grin returning, though there was something warm and steady about it now. “Trust me.”

(Y/n) stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment, torn between the pull of her responsibilities and the spark of curiosity he always managed to ignite in her. Finally, with a quiet sigh, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

“You’re relentless,” she muttered as he led her out of the dining hall.

“You’ll thank me later,” Rex replied confidently.

***

Rex led her outside the palace and down a narrow, snow-dusted stone path that wound between tall hedges and towering fir trees. The air was sharp and clear, carrying the faint, distant sound of bells—somewhere, far off, the palace staff were likely preparing for the holidays.

(Y/n) let herself be guided, her curiosity mounting with every step. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Rex said, glancing back at her with that mischievous glint in his eye that she was beginning to recognize all too well.

Finally, they emerged into an open space—a secluded garden tucked into a hollow beside the palace walls. (Y/n) stopped in her tracks, her breath catching softly in her chest.

The garden was alive with light. The snow-covered hedges had been strung with soft golden lanterns that glowed like captured stars, and beneath them, scattered throughout the frost-touched earth, grew winter roses. Their petals were pale white tinged with the faintest blush of pink, each bloom seeming almost unreal against the snow.

(Y/n) stepped forward slowly, the sound of her boots muffled by the thick powder. She knelt beside one of the flowers, brushing her fingers delicately against its petals. It was soft—unexpectedly so—and still warm with life despite the frost surrounding it.

“You don’t often see these,” Rex said quietly, standing just behind her. “They only bloom when the nights are cold and the moons hang low. They say the winter rose can survive where nothing else can.”

(Y/n) glanced back at him, her voice soft. “It’s beautiful.”

Rex watched her closely, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I thought you’d like it.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full—filled with something unspoken, something that hummed softly beneath the surface like the slow bloom of a winter rose.

“You brought me here to see this?” (Y/n) finally asked, turning fully to face him.

Rex shrugged, though his grin was gentler now, his gaze steady. “You’ve spent all day carrying the weight of the palace on your shoulders. I figured you deserved something beautiful.”

(Y/n) stared at him, her heart skipping in a way that made her uneasy. She had known men who could speak in charm alone, but Rex… he said things as though he meant them, as though his words carried weight he didn’t expect her to see.

“Thank you,” she said softly, the words feeling small but sincere.

Rex held her gaze for another long moment before grinning again, the familiar glint returning to his eyes. “Come on. There’s a fire pit at the far end of the garden. I’ll even let you warm your hands while I find some spiced cider.”

(Y/n) shook her head with a quiet laugh, following him as he turned. But as they walked deeper into the glow of the lanterns, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—softly, quietly, like snow falling in the night.

And for once, she didn’t mind it at all.

***

From a window high in one of the palace towers, Cody stood in silence, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. The firelight from within the room barely reached him, leaving him half in shadow, but he didn’t need light to see what unfolded below.

The garden glowed softly, a golden pocket of warmth against the snow-covered grounds, and in its center, he spotted them. Rex and (Y/n).

Cody’s gaze lingered on them—on the way Rex turned back slightly to check that (Y/n) was following, on the faint laugh that drifted up, too soft to fully reach him but audible enough to let him imagine its sound. Rex had that look about him again—the kind of light in his eyes Cody hadn’t seen in years, not since they were children racing sleds down the hills without a care in the world.

(Y/n) walked beside him, her posture softer than Cody had ever seen it. Her usual composure, her air of determination and restraint, had given way to something quieter—something more… real.

Cody’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though it was tinged with something deeper, something thoughtful. His brother had always had a way of finding light in unexpected places, of dragging it with him like a spark through darkness.

And (Y/n)? Well, she had been so consumed by her careful plans—her lists and responsibilities—that Cody doubted she’d allowed herself to breathe in years.

As he watched them disappear deeper into the garden, the lantern light dappling across their figures like scattered starlight, Cody shook his head faintly to himself.

“Rex…” he murmured under his breath, though there was no reprimand in the word. Only quiet acknowledgment.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he turned from the window, the shadows swallowing him again as he walked back toward the heart of the palace.

Perhaps, he thought, the best things in life weren’t meant to be planned.

For all the planning, for all the meticulous work (Y/n) had done, perhaps the one thing she hadn’t planned for was the thing that mattered most.

Unexpected love.

Cody’s smile lingered as he turned away from the window, leaving the scene below to play out as it would.

***

In the solitude of the west tower, beyond the hustle of the palace’s daily movements, **King Jaster** stood by a wide, arched window, the heavy velvet drapes drawn back to allow the fading light of dusk to stream in. The winter air carried a hush outside, as though the world itself had paused to listen.

He said nothing at first, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at the glowing garden below. The lanterns illuminated the space with a soft, golden warmth, their light dancing across the snow and reflecting off the pale petals of the winter roses. In the center of the glow, two figures moved slowly—Rex, with his easy, unhurried strides, and (Y/n), following with a quiet grace.  

There was laughter down there. Jaster couldn’t hear it, but he could see it—Rex turning to speak, (Y/n) tilting her head back just slightly, her lips forming a smile that softened her entire demeanor. The boy had that gleam again, the light he’d carried as a child when his feet ran faster than he could keep up with, when his laughter filled the palace halls and made it feel alive.  

“Hmm,” came the low murmur of a familiar voice from behind him. “Young Rex… cheerful, he is. Bright, the boy shines.”  

Jaster didn’t turn as Yoda stepped up beside him, his short stature meaning his head just barely reached the bottom of the windowsill. The old advisor, gnarled and wise, had been at Jaster’s side for as long as he could remember. Through wars and peace, through grief and recovery, Yoda had been an anchor—his quiet words carrying more weight than all the councils in the galaxy combined.  

“He’s happy,” Jaster said softly, his deep voice quieter than usual, as though afraid to disturb the moment below. “I haven’t seen him like this in years.”

“Long has it been,” Yoda replied, his tone calm but edged with knowing. “The burdens they carry, heavier than they should be. All of them. Cody, Rex… the twins… Jesse.”  

Jaster inclined his head faintly, his gaze not wavering from the scene below. “Too heavy.”  

Yoda’s ears flicked slightly as he looked up at the king, his ancient green face unreadable but his eyes sharp and knowing. “Hm. Yet, warmth finds them. The unexpected blooms when left untended.” He tilted his head toward the window, gesturing faintly with one clawed hand. “Like the winter rose.”

Jaster turned slightly at that, his weathered brow furrowing. “What are you saying?”

“Observe them, did you not?” Yoda murmured, his tone faintly teasing as his wise eyes twinkled in the dim light. “A flame burns there, quiet but certain. Like moonlight on snow.”

Jaster looked back at the garden, his sharp blue gaze lingering on his grandson and the woman who walked beside him. He watched the way Rex looked at her—an unguarded glance, fleeting but honest. The way (Y/n)’s shoulders had relaxed, as though for the first time, the weight of her purpose had been temporarily lifted.  

“You think…” Jaster began, trailing off before the words could leave him fully.  

“Think? Hmm.” Yoda chuckled softly, a sound like wind rustling through dry leaves. “Know, I do not. But hope? Ah, yes.” He gave a small nod, his voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur. “Hope can grow where nothing else will.”

Jaster said nothing for a long moment, his weathered face thoughtful as the firelight from the lanterns below danced faintly in his eyes. He had known love—had held it in his hands, in his family, and had watched it be torn away too soon. For years now, the palace had carried shadows, held together by duty and resolve. And yet…  

As Rex and (Y/n) disappeared further into the garden, their figures framed by golden light and snow-dusted roses, Jaster felt something shift—a tiny crack in the stone walls built around them all.

“Perhaps,” Jaster said finally, his voice low, as though admitting it to himself more than to Yoda, “the galaxy hasn’t taken everything from us yet.”  

“Hm.” Yoda tilted his head knowingly. “Faith, my friend. When least expected, life always finds a way.”

Jaster looked down at the old Jedi, his lips quirking faintly—just the smallest hint of a smile. “You always say that.”

“And right, I always am.” Yoda’s shoulders lifted in what might have been a shrug, his expression as wry as ever.  

Jaster let out a low, thoughtful hum, his gaze drifting back to the window. The lanterns in the garden glowed against the darkening sky, a pocket of warmth and light in the cold. And below, unseen by the rest of the world, something fragile and precious had begun to grow.

For the first time in years, Jaster allowed himself to hope.  

And beside him, Yoda smiled faintly, the ancient weight of his wisdom carried lightly, as though he, too, had been waiting for this moment.  

“Watch closely, we will,” Yoda murmured softly, his voice a quiet promise. “For blooms like this… rare they are.”

***

(Y/n) stood at the head of the grand hall, its wide expanse already buzzing with quiet anticipation. Sunlight poured through the tall, latticed windows, illuminating the polished marble floors in soft golden beams. She’d spent the better part of her morning organizing yet another round of introductions for Cody and the invited ladies, but today, she was determined to shift the dynamic.

(Y/n) glanced down at her clipboard—a tightly organized grid of names, pairings, and locations. She had carefully plotted this: dividing the suitors among Cody’s cousins and brothers. Her logic was sound—if Cody didn’t feel the full weight of the proceedings on his shoulders, if he weren’t the sole focus of every woman’s attention, perhaps he would loosen up, even if just a little.

And she had managed to secure volunteers—or perhaps unwitting participants—from the extended royal family: Wolffe, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Hunter, and, of course, Rex and the twins.

(Y/n) glanced at the gathered men now, standing in a loose, uneven cluster. Most of them looked like they were bracing for battle.

“Let me get this straight,” Wolffe said, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his piercing gaze scanned the clipboard (Y/n) held. The eldest of the cousins, his air of authority was impossible to miss, though there was something sardonic about him, as if he found life amusing in the most infuriating ways. “You want us to… what? Escort the suitors around and make polite conversation?”

“Yes,” (Y/n) said, keeping her tone professional and unwavering, though Wolffe’s skeptical stare made her throat tighten slightly. “The idea is to lighten the atmosphere, give Cody some breathing room, and allow the ladies to interact with all of you as well.”

“Babysitting duty,” Hunter muttered with an arched brow. His dark hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his sharp, observant eyes missed nothing. There was a kind of quiet patience about him, though (Y/n) had a feeling he was assessing the entire situation like a battlefield.

“It’s not babysitting,” (Y/n) replied, though she could already hear the skepticism in their silence. “Think of it as… social diplomacy.”

Kix, the palace medic and the most even-tempered of the group, raised a hand slightly, as though waiting his turn. “And what exactly are we supposed to do with them?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with resignation.

(Y/n) tilted her head slightly, as though to reassure him. “Talk to them. Ask about their home systems. Be… friendly.”

“Friendly,” Waxer repeated, exchanging a grin with Boil beside him. The two cousins—more laid-back than their older counterparts—were already nudging each other like schoolboys in the back of the classroom. “How friendly are we talking here?”

“Polite friendly,” (Y/n) clarified quickly, narrowing her eyes at the pair. “Not ‘charming mischief’ friendly.”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” Boil muttered, though the grin on his face suggested he had no intention of causing trouble. Probably.

Rex, standing a little to the side, looked far too pleased with the entire situation. “I think it’s a brilliant plan,” he said with a grin, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets. “Let’s see if Cody actually cracks a smile this time.”

“It’s not for entertainment, Rex,” (Y/n) shot back, though the faint smirk he offered in return made it impossible to stay frustrated with him.

“Of course not,” Rex said smoothly. “But I’m still looking forward to seeing what happens.”

***

(Y/n) exhaled, turning to face Cody, who stood nearby with his usual air of composed reluctance. He had been quiet the entire time, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, as though trying to mentally escape the moment.

“Your Highness,” (Y/n) said gently, addressing him directly. “I believe this will help. You don’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

Cody looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a faint nod that could almost pass as agreement, he muttered, “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

***

The first half of the morning went surprisingly well. (Y/n) allowed herself a sliver of pride as she observed the scene unfolding in the grand hall. Small clusters of suitors and royal men dotted the room, conversations flowing, and the atmosphere felt… lighter.

Wolffe, to her surprise, stood with an elegant brunette in deep violet, listening attentively as she explained her family’s long-held traditions. Kix had drawn a small circle of women around him, undoubtedly sharing medical stories that (Y/n) hoped weren’t too graphic. Hunter, quiet as ever, was paired with a sharp-witted lady from Alderaan, whose animated conversation seemed to amuse him in spite of himself.

Even Cody, while still stiff, looked far less burdened with Rex standing beside him—no doubt helping to steer the conversation with easy charm.

(Y/n) was just beginning to relax when she noticed Fives and Echo, far too still and far too quiet, near one of the grand hall’s archways. It sent a warning tingle up her spine.

“What are they…” she murmured under her breath, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make sense of their suspiciously innocent expressions.

Fives’ shoulder twitched slightly, as though suppressing a laugh. Echo’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling for a fraction of a second before returning to the small group of women they were entertaining.

The ceiling.

(Y/n) froze, her gaze snapping upward.

She saw it just in time. A large net, strung with bundles of artificial snow—feathers and fine powder—dangled from the chandelier above the center of the room.

“No,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

It was too late. Fives grinned suddenly—bright and unrepentant—as he yanked something from his pocket. Echo turned just in time to give (Y/n) an apologetic shrug.

The net released.

Snow—soft, powdery, and absurdly voluminous—exploded from the ceiling, cascading down like a sudden blizzard. Gasps and shrieks of laughter erupted across the hall as women and royals alike were buried under the unexpected deluge.

(Y/n)’s jaw dropped as Rex burst into a peal of laughter, nearly doubling over as he watched the chaos unfold. Wolffe let out a low, irritated groan as snow settled in his dark hair and dusted the shoulders of his coat.

“Fives!” (Y/n) shouted, her voice rising above the noise as she marched toward the twins, who were already trying to escape toward the hallway. “Echo! What did I say about behaving?”

“Technically,” Fives called back as he darted past Rex, who was still laughing, “we’re enhancing the atmosphere!”

“Yeah!” Echo chimed in, grabbing a handful of snow and tossing it at Waxer, who had joined in the chaos. “It’s festive!”

Rex, tears of laughter in his eyes, straightened enough to throw a look at (Y/n), who now stood with her hands on her hips, her cheeks flushed. “I told you—friendly mischief.”

“You’re all impossible!” (Y/n) snapped, though she couldn’t stop the reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

****

From where he stood near the edge of the hall, Cody brushed snow off his coat, his expression unreadable. A faint dusting of powder clung to his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward (Y/n), who stood in the center of the chaos. Her hands were still on her hips, her expression half-scolding, half-amused as she watched Rex and the twins with exasperated affection.

Cody’s lips twitched—the barest flicker of a smile. It was brief and small, but it softened the lines of his face, made his shoulders relax.

For all the weight on her shoulders, for all her determination to keep everything perfect, (Y/n) made the palace feel alive again.

Perhaps, he thought as he turned quietly toward the hall’s exit, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

****

In the corner of the hall, Rex caught (Y/n)’s eye, a mischievous grin still lingering as he dusted snow off his sleeves. “You’ve got to admit,” he called over the noise, “it is festive.”

(Y/n) groaned, but even as she shook her head, she couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped her lips.

***

The day broke gently over Alderia, sunlight glinting off the frost-touched landscape like a painter’s brush had scattered silver across the world. The palace, still waking in quiet elegance, seemed to stretch its limbs as a fresh wave of crisp air flowed in from the mountains.

(Y/n) had taken her breakfast in the dining room again, seated at the far end of the enormous table. A modest spread had been laid before her, and though the tea was fragrant and the pastries warm, she found herself picking at the edges of her meal, her mind lingering stubbornly on the day’s agenda.

The introductions from the previous day replayed themselves in an endless loop—Cody’s polite stiffness, the carefully orchestrated smiles of the suitors, the pauses that stretched too long, heavy with unsaid words. You planned for everything, (Y/n) thought bitterly. And yet here we are.

She was about to lift her cup for a sip when a chair scraped loudly against the floor. (Y/n) flinched, startled, and looked up to see Rex sliding into the seat across from her with the kind of careless ease that only he could pull off. He looked far too energetic for someone who had no reason to be awake so early.

“Good morning,” he said, with a grin that was altogether too bright for the hour.

(Y/n) sighed, placing her cup back down. “Rex. Do you ever not appear out of nowhere?”

“I like to think of it as being punctual,” Rex replied, reaching for a fresh roll from the basket at the center of the table. He tore it in half with practiced ease, popping a piece into his mouth before glancing at her pointedly. “Though you look like you’ve been sitting here arguing with your thoughts for the better part of an hour.”

“I’m not arguing,” (Y/n) replied, though the tightness in her tone betrayed her frustration.

“Oh?” Rex tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully. “Planning, then. You do a lot of that.”

“It’s my job.” She picked at the edges of her napkin, willing herself to focus on anything other than his direct gaze. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of—”

“Of what?” he interrupted gently, though there was no teasing in his voice this time. “Forgetting that life isn’t made of plans?”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue but found no words. The observation hit too close to home, as Rex’s usually did. He watched her for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair, draping an arm casually across the backrest.

“All right, enough of this,” he said decisively. “You’re coming with me.”

(Y/n) frowned, blinking. “What?”

“Out. A ride.”

She stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “A ride? On horses?”

Rex grinned, already victorious. “What else? Fresh air, open land, the whole countryside to ourselves.”

“Rex, I don’t have time for—”

He raised a hand, cutting her off, though his tone remained maddeningly calm. “(Y/n), if I let you sit here another hour, you’re going to wear a hole in that table with how hard you’re frowning. Trust me—there’s more to this planet than ballroom introductions and checklists. Let me show you.”

There it was again—that impossible pull he always managed to have on her. She stared at him for a long moment, debating, trying to hold on to her resolve. But something in the way he looked at her—earnest and insistent but never forceful—made the words fall flat on her tongue.

With a heavy sigh, she relented. “Fine. One hour.”

“One hour,” he agreed, though the grin he gave her said he already considered it a full victory. “Stables in twenty minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

***

The air outside was crisp, the kind of winter morning where every breath felt clean and sharp against the lungs. Snow still dusted the palace grounds, glistening under the rising sun, though it had begun to melt in places where the trees offered a break from the frost.

(Y/n) stood by the royal stables, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched the horses being saddled. She hadn’t ridden in years—not since she was a child on Coruscant, where the rare few riding paths were carefully controlled and more for show than anything else.

Rex, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He stood beside a tall, dapple-gray stallion, stroking its neck with practiced hands. His sleeves were pushed up again, the cold seemingly not bothering him in the slightest, and a faint smile played on his lips as he whispered to the horse in low, soothing tones.

“You look far too comfortable,” (Y/n) said, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Rex looked up, flashing her an easy smile. “This is my element.”

“And here I thought mischief was your element.”

“Ah, that’s just a hobby.” Rex winked before turning to gesture toward the horse being brought to her—a sleek chestnut mare with a kind, intelligent face. “This is Aurora. She’s gentle but spirited. You’ll get along just fine.”

(Y/n) eyed the horse warily. “I’m not so sure.”

Rex stepped closer, his tone softening. “She won’t let you fall. And neither will I.”

There was something in the way he said it—earnest, quiet—that made (Y/n)’s throat tighten slightly. She allowed herself a breath before nodding and letting one of the stable hands help her into the saddle.

***

The wind whistled softly as (Y/n) pulled her borrowed cloak closer, the thick fabric shielding her from the lingering winter chill. The horses moved in steady rhythm beneath them, their hooves crunching softly through the light blanket of snow that covered the rolling meadows beyond the palace. Rex rode just a pace ahead of her, completely at ease, his posture loose and natural as though he belonged to this land.

(Y/n), though less confident, managed to keep Aurora, the gentle chestnut mare, moving smoothly alongside him. She focused on the sound of the horses, on the wide openness of the space stretching out before her—fields and valleys edged with frost, dotted by the dark outlines of evergreens.

It had been years since she’d felt anything like this—open air, the rush of motion, the world wide enough that it felt like it could swallow every weight she carried.

“I told you this would be better than staring at your tea,” Rex called over his shoulder, the wind carrying his voice to her like a song on the breeze.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, though she couldn’t bring herself to admit he was right—yet. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still deciding.”

Rex laughed softly, the sound warm in the cold air. “You’ll come around.” He slowed his horse slightly so that they rode side by side. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the world quiet except for the rhythm of hooves and the faint creak of leather saddles.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air. “You seem… happy out here,” she observed quietly.

Rex looked ahead, his smile softening. “I am.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the snow-dusted hills in the distance. “Because out here, I don’t have to be anything but myself,” he said finally. “There’s no one expecting me to play a role or fill a gap. I’m just… Rex.”

(Y/n) watched him, her fingers curling tighter around the reins. “And in the palace?”

“In the palace,” he said with a faint sigh, “I’m the spare. The second. The one who fills the space around the crown.” He turned to her then, his storm-colored eyes holding hers. “I don’t mind it, not really. Cody was born for it. But sometimes… it feels like there’s nothing else for me to be.”

The quiet that followed felt heavier, as though the world itself had stopped to listen. (Y/n) hesitated before speaking, her voice soft.

“I understand that,” she murmured.

Rex raised a brow. “You do?”

(Y/n) looked forward, letting her gaze drift to the open expanse of white and gold. “I’ve spent so much time helping others find love—building connections, crafting perfect matches—that I stopped looking for myself. It’s as though I’m… watching from the outside. Always watching.”

There was no pity in Rex’s gaze, only understanding. “And have you ever… wanted it?”

(Y/n) let out a faint, self-deprecating laugh, though it caught in her throat. “I wouldn’t know what to want. Love, as I’ve seen it, always seems so… chaotic. And yet, it’s the one thing everyone wants. It’s the thing they can’t live without.”

“And you?” Rex asked quietly.

(Y/n) turned to him, her expression soft but guarded. “I guess I’ve never felt I deserved it.”

Rex blinked, as though the confession had knocked something loose inside him. “That’s not true.”

“How would you know?” (Y/n) countered, her voice trembling slightly despite herself.

“Because I’ve seen you,” Rex said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re always the one holding everything together—steady and sure, even when it’s not your burden to carry. You deserve more than just watching.”

The words hung between them, raw and unguarded, until Rex gave her a crooked, disarming smile. “Besides,” he added, lightening his tone, “chaos isn’t always bad. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need.”

(Y/n) stared at him for a moment, her heart thudding quietly in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she looked back out at the open meadow.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest spark of hope—quiet and fragile but impossible to ignore.

As they rode on, Rex glanced at her again, the edges of his smile softer now, less teasing. He didn’t say anything more, but something unspoken passed between them—an understanding, a connection.

Neither of them knew where it would lead.

But for now, it was enough.

***

(Y/n) paced the length of the ballroom with her clipboard in hand, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The room, dressed in restrained elegance, was set for the next phase of introductions—an opportunity for each of the noblewomen and princesses to spend an uninterrupted hour with Cody. It was (Y/n)’s hope that the structured intimacy would allow for a deeper connection, perhaps even help Cody find some common ground with at least one of them.

The tables had been arranged with meticulous care, adorned with soft floral arrangements and tea sets laid out on embroidered linens. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth diffusing the chill in the room. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, bathing the grand space in gold, as if the day itself wanted to encourage success.

(Y/n)’s preparations were flawless—as always.

And yet, deep in her chest, a nagging sense of unease lingered.

The suitors, elegantly dressed and seated in the antechamber, were perfect on paper. Beautiful, poised, intelligent, and well-spoken. But perfection, (Y/n) knew all too well, could often feel hollow. And she was beginning to fear that hollow was exactly what Cody would find in each of them.

“Everything looks… unnecessarily perfect,” Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts, lighthearted and teasing as ever.

(Y/n) startled slightly, turning to find him lounging against one of the window frames, arms crossed and the familiar crooked smile tugging at his lips. He looked too at ease for someone standing amidst her painstakingly crafted setting—like he belonged in chaos more than polished order.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in mock reproach.

“Why not? I’m helping.” He pushed off the frame, strolling toward her with the easy gait that she had come to know far too well.

“Helping?” (Y/n) scoffed, though her tone held no real irritation. “You’ve spent the last week interrupting my work.”

“Interrupting,” Rex corrected, as though it were a badge of honor, “is a form of assistance. It keeps you from overthinking everything.”

“I don’t overthink,” (Y/n) shot back defensively, clutching her clipboard just a little tighter.

Rex grinned, clearly delighted to see her bristling. “You’re overthinking right now.”

(Y/n) sighed, biting back a reluctant smile. “If you’re here to derail my plans, you’re too late. Everything is set. Each of the women will have an hour alone with Cody today. That’s their time to make an impression.”

Rex gave an exaggerated wince as he surveyed the ballroom. “Alone with Cody? You’re asking for trouble.”

(Y/n) frowned, brow furrowing as she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen him,” Rex replied casually, leaning against the back of one of the chairs and watching her with an amused expression. “The man treats these introductions like he’s attending a military tribunal. Straight back, stiff smile, saying as little as humanly possible.”

(Y/n) sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “I know. But this is important, Rex. He needs to—”

“Relax?” Rex interrupted, his grin widening when she shot him a glare. “(Y/n), you’ve set up the perfect stage, but you can’t force chemistry. That’s the problem. You’re trying to plan love.”

“That’s my job!” she snapped, though her voice cracked slightly at the end, as if she were exasperated with herself more than him. “And it’s not as simple as you make it sound.”

Rex straightened slightly, his gaze softening. “It’s never simple. But you can’t make someone feel something they don’t.”

The truth of his words settled in (Y/n)’s chest like a heavy stone, and she looked away, unable to hold his gaze. She knew he was right. As much as she hoped to create the perfect conditions, connection wasn’t something that could be controlled. It either happened or it didn’t.

***

From her vantage point in the shadows of the ballroom, Lady Mara watched with the stillness of a predator. Her keen gaze never wavered as it settled on (Y/n) and Rex, the young woman’s flustered reaction to Rex’s teasing and the unmistakable warmth in his gaze as he lingered near her.

It was subtle, but Mara saw it—she always saw it. The way Rex leaned just slightly too close, the softness of his smile when (Y/n) wasn’t looking, the flicker of hesitation in (Y/n)’s eyes, as though she wasn’t entirely sure what was happening between them.

But Mara knew.

Her fingers curled slowly around the edge of her shawl, the fabric brushing softly against her gloves as her lips pressed into a thin line. She had spent too many years waiting—watching—as Jaster’s grandsons grew into men, as they carried the titles and power that should have been hers.

She had been patient—oh, so patient—ever since the day Jango, her brother’s favored son, had taken everything from her. The throne, the future she had so carefully planned, had all been ripped away like a cruel twist of fate. When Jango died, she had thought it her time at last—her chance to step into the light and claim what was rightfully hers. But Jaster had refused to bend. He had raised Jango’s sons like the kings they were never meant to be, tightening his grip on the crown, solidifying his dynasty.

Now here she stood, in a palace that should have been hers, watching Jaster’s precious grandsons ruin everything. Rex, of all people—reckless, charming, unpredictable Rex—had begun to slip through her carefully laid cracks.

Her dark eyes swept back to (Y/n), the matchmaker. She was supposed to be here to solve the problem of Cody’s disinterest, yet somehow, she had become the problem herself. Mara saw the quiet connection between her and Rex beginning to form—fragile, unspoken, but growing like ivy on an ancient wall. It wasn’t merely an inconvenience; it was dangerous.

Mara’s nails dug into the soft fabric of her glove as she turned away from the ballroom. She moved silently, her skirts whispering along the floor as she stepped out into the quieter hallway beyond.

*** 

Mara strode purposefully down the shadowed corridor, her mind whirling with thoughts. The palace was alive with movement—the footsteps of servants, the murmur of distant voices—but Mara walked through it all like a ghost, unseen and unnoticed.

She couldn’t allow this. Not again.

Jaster’s sons had already stolen too much from her. She wouldn’t stand idle while they found love and strength to secure their power. A royal marriage, the forging of alliances—that would cement their place for generations to come, locking her and her line into the cold shadows of obscurity.

No.

Her gaze hardened as she turned a corner, entering a smaller study tucked away from the bustle of the main palace. She paused near the window, staring out at the snow-draped gardens below, where faint lantern light still flickered from the winter rose beds.

Rex, she thought bitterly, his name curling on her tongue like ash. He was too much like his father—too carefree, too charming. But unlike Jango, he was reckless. Mara could use that. His unpredictability could be turned against him, twisted to tarnish the reputation he carried.

And (Y/n)…

Mara’s lips curled faintly. The matchmaker was earnest and focused, but it made her predictable. A woman so busy trying to fit the world into neat little boxes couldn’t see a storm forming until it was too late.

***

A knock at the door broke through her thoughts.

“Enter,” she said smoothly, turning just as the heavy door creaked open and one of her most trusted attendants, a man named Luthar, slipped inside. He was a wiry man, his presence shadowed and unassuming, but his loyalty to Lady Mara was unquestionable.

“You summoned me, my lady?” Luthar’s voice was low and deferential.

“Yes,” Mara replied, her tone calm, measured. She gestured for him to step closer, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “I need you to watch someone for me.”

Luthar inclined his head. “Who?”

“The matchmaker,” Mara said smoothly, folding her hands in front of her. “(Y/n) (Y/L/N). I want to know her movements. Who she speaks with. Who she trusts.”

Luthar gave a slight bow. “And the prince?”

“Rex,” Mara said softly, almost to herself, as though tasting the name on her tongue. “Keep an eye on him as well. He’s grown… distracted. That distraction could prove useful.”

Luthar hesitated, his gaze flickering with unspoken curiosity. “And if something should arise?”

Mara’s expression hardened, the faintest hint of a smile curling at the edges of her mouth. “Then you’ll inform me immediately. I’ll handle it.”

Luthar bowed again before slipping from the room as silently as he had entered.

****

Once she was alone again, Mara turned back to the window, her gaze sweeping the snow-covered grounds below. The garden was quiet now, but she could still see it in her mind: (Y/n) and Rex, walking beneath the lanterns, their laughter drifting up through the cold night air.

It was fragile.

Too fragile to last, she thought. And she would ensure it didn’t.

Jaster had stolen her crown. His grandsons had stolen her legacy.

But love?

Love was a fire she could extinguish before it ever had the chance to burn.

With that thought, she turned sharply, the rustle of her skirts echoing through the empty room. Lady Mara, patient and cunning, would not be ignored any longer.

***

As the morning passed, oblivious to the dark intentions brewing in the shadows, Rex found (Y/n) once again—this time in the library, surrounded by books and notes.

“Still working?” he teased, leaning against a nearby bookshelf with a grin that was far too casual.

(Y/n) looked up, startled, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’m always working. It’s what you hired me for, remember?”

Rex grinned, pushing off the bookshelf to sit on the edge of the table, far too close for propriety’s comfort. “You should take a break. I hear there’s a lovely view from the gardens around this time.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, her cheeks warming faintly, though she tried to ignore the way her pulse jumped at his nearness. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you keep me around,” Rex replied, his voice softening as his teasing smile melted into something quieter.

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.

In that moment, as their eyes met and lingered, she felt it—the shift. The fragile thread of something unspoken, growing stronger with every breath they shared.

And just beyond the warmth of the library walls, Lady Mara watched, unseen and waiting, the storm she intended to unleash already beginning to gather.

****

### **The Dance Lessons**  

The ballroom gleamed in soft afternoon light, its wide marble floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. The vast space echoed with anticipation—servants hurrying to finish preparations, chairs tucked neatly against the far wall, fresh garlands of winter roses hanging from the tall archways. 

(Y/n) stood at the center of it all, a clipboard in her hand and tension in her shoulders as she surveyed the day’s task. *Dance lessons.* It was the logical next step—graceful movement, light conversation, an easy way to break the icy formality between Cody and the suitors. She had coordinated every detail: music selections, the layout, the schedule, and, of course, the “volunteers” she had roped in to serve as dance partners.  

**Cody, Rex, Wolffe, Hunter, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Fives, and Echo** stood at varying levels of discomfort near the edge of the ballroom, all dressed in their finest tunics—boots polished, collars starched—and wearing expressions that ranged from resigned to outright rebellious.  

“This is ridiculous,” Wolffe muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp gaze swept the room. “I’m not a dance instructor.”  

“You’re *helping,*” (Y/n) replied crisply, flipping through her notes to keep herself from snapping back. “You’ll all partner with the ladies who haven’t yet had a chance to properly engage with Prince Cody. Think of it as your civic duty.”

“Civic duty?” Hunter murmured, arching a brow at her. “I didn’t realize dancing had become a matter of state.”

“It has now,” (Y/n) shot back, leveling a look at him before continuing. “The goal is for the women to feel at ease. Relaxed. Do you think they’ll be comfortable dancing with a prince who refuses to smile?” 

From his place against the far wall, **Cody** lifted his gaze from where he’d been inspecting the floor. “I can hear you.”

“You were supposed to,” (Y/n) replied sweetly, though her gaze lingered on him just long enough to soften the sting.  

The twins, predictably, were already at it—Fives elbowed Echo, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “I’m going to win the crowd over,” Fives announced grandly, smoothing the front of his coat with mock seriousness. “They’ll forget Cody’s even here.”

“Try not to trip,” Echo replied dryly, though his smirk betrayed him.  

(Y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly before scanning the room for the one man she hadn’t yet heard complain. Rex. 

---

**Rex stood near the grand piano**, watching (Y/n) with an unreadable expression as she corralled the cousins and brothers like a commander on a battlefield. He’d grown used to seeing her like this—sharp, focused, and entirely in control—but something about today felt different. Her movements were more rushed, her tone a little too clipped, as if she were holding something back.  

Rex watched her for another beat before stepping forward, his boots tapping softly against the marble. “You’re going to wear a hole in that clipboard,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he stopped beside her.

(Y/n) glanced up sharply, startled. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that,” Rex replied, tilting his head as he studied her, “and yet you look like you’re ready to strangle someone with your notes.”  

(Y/n) bit back a retort, her pulse quickening slightly under the weight of his gaze. “They’re impossible to manage,” she muttered instead, gesturing toward the assembled group. “None of them take this seriously.”

“They’re taking it as seriously as you let them,” Rex said softly, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You could use a break, you know. You’ve been on edge since—well, *since always*.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. There was no point arguing with Rex when he saw straight through her defenses. She let out a soft breath instead, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Are you here to help or just to distract me?”

Rex’s lips curled into that familiar lopsided grin that made (Y/n)’s stomach flip in ways she wasn’t prepared to admit. “Both.”

***

The music began—a soft, lilting waltz played on the grand piano by a palace musician—and the suitors moved hesitantly into the ballroom. (Y/n)’s voice cut through the murmurs like a whip of calm authority.  

“All right, ladies, gentlemen—pair up, please,” she called, her voice carrying easily over the music. “One lady to each of you. Prince Cody will begin at the center, and the rest of you will rotate every ten minutes. This is about comfort and conversation. Please, try to enjoy yourselves.”

*Enjoy themselves.* (Y/n) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a more reluctant group of dancers.

The ballroom was a wash of gold and white, sunlight filtering through tall stained-glass windows, dappling the polished marble floor with warmth. The soft strains of a waltz echoed through the vast space, mingling with the laughter and polite murmurs of conversation as the dance lessons finally began. It was as (Y/n) had planned—graceful, orderly, structured.

Yet despite the perfect setting, the atmosphere still felt off.

Cody, positioned at the center with yet another partner, moved stiffly, his every step mechanical, as though he were a clockwork figure. (Y/n) watched him carefully from her spot near the edge of the room, her brow furrowed as she made notes on her clipboard. Every step, every rotation, felt like another missed opportunity. Cody’s partner smiled, but (Y/n) could see through it—polite, practiced, but hollow.

The ballroom was filling with cracks, tiny fissures in the façade she’d worked so hard to create.

***

Across the floor, Rex moved among the dancers with a kind of natural ease that both frustrated and fascinated her. He laughed easily, spinning one of the young princesses with a flair that earned him a round of applause from the other ladies. The charm came effortlessly to him, a boyish mischief lighting up his face that made him impossible to ignore.

But (Y/n) had learned something about Rex these last few weeks. That carefree exterior of his? It was a mask—clever, disarming, but not quite real. And when he let it slip, even just a little, (Y/n) felt as though she’d glimpsed something precious and fragile.

Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to see.

“Careful, Matchmaker.”

Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts like a ripple across still water. (Y/n) blinked, startled, to find him suddenly at her side, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his blue-gray eyes fixed on her with a look that sent her pulse fluttering.

“You’re brooding again,” Rex said, a teasing smile curving his lips. “You’re supposed to be watching the dancing, not staring holes into the floor.”

“I’m working,” (Y/n) replied stiffly, though her voice faltered slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“Are you?” Rex asked, tilting his head. “Because from here, it looks like you’re worrying yourself into an early grave.”

(Y/n) frowned, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Cody isn’t connecting with anyone. This is supposed to help, but it’s… falling apart.”

“Falling apart?” Rex murmured, his tone softer now. “Not everything needs to be perfect, (Y/n).”

“It’s my job to make it perfect,” she said quietly, her fingers tightening around the clipboard. “If I don’t, who will?”

There was a pause, and when she finally looked up, Rex was watching her—not with teasing amusement this time, but with something softer, something deeper.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” he said, his voice low, as though the words weren’t meant for anyone but her. “You try to hold the world together on your own, and it’s going to crush you if you’re not careful.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came. He always did this—saw through the carefully constructed wall she’d built around herself and reached straight into the fragile heart of it.

“Come on,” Rex said suddenly, breaking the moment before it could deepen further. He extended a hand to her, his grin returning, though the softness in his eyes remained. “Dance with me.”

(Y/n) blinked. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “You can’t teach everyone else if you’re not willing to join in yourself.”

“I’m not here to dance,” (Y/n) stammered, flustered, her cheeks warming. “I’m overseeing—”

“You’re overthinking,” Rex said, smirking faintly. “One dance, (Y/n). You can go back to your clipboard after.”

***

Her hesitation broke when she felt the brothers and cousins watching—Wolffe’s sharp gaze, Kix’s faint smirk, and the twins’ not-so-subtle nudges. From across the room, Fives grinned like a child with a secret, whispering something to Echo that made them both chuckle under their breath.

Even Cody had noticed, pausing just slightly mid-step with his partner to glance over, his brow lifting in quiet curiosity.

(Y/n)’s breath caught as the room seemed to shift its focus. It was subtle, but she felt it—their eyes on her, on Rex, and on whatever it was that lingered between them like a spark waiting to catch fire.

She looked up at Rex, whose hand was still extended toward her, patient but insistent. There was no teasing in his face anymore, only quiet encouragement.

Just one dance, she told herself, though her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Slowly, she slipped her hand into his.

Rex’s smile softened, as though her acceptance meant far more to him than he would ever admit. “Trust me,” he murmured.

***

They moved onto the floor, and for the first time that day, the music seemed to come alive. The melody swelled gently, wrapping around them as Rex placed his hand lightly against (Y/n)’s waist and guided her into the steps of the waltz.

At first, (Y/n)’s movements were stiff, self-conscious. She could feel the others watching—Cody, Wolffe, the cousins—but she forced herself to focus on Rex.

“Relax,” Rex murmured, his voice just above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. “It’s just us.”

(Y/n) looked up into his face, startled by the sincerity in his words. “It’s not just us. They’re all staring.”

“Let them stare,” Rex replied softly, his thumb brushing lightly against her hand. “I’m only looking at you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as his words settled over her like a warmth she hadn’t expected. She looked up at him, truly looked, and saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t allowed herself to see before. The teasing grin was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

Rex was… different. He wasn’t the carefree prince who pulled her into snowball fights or dragged her away from her work. He was this—steady, grounded, and impossibly real.

And it terrified her.

***

From across the room, the brothers and cousins noticed the shift.

“Finally,” Fives muttered to Echo, elbowing him in the ribs. “I thought I’d have to push him into her.”

Echo smirked, though his gaze lingered on Rex and (Y/n) with quiet understanding. “Don’t jinx it.”

Hunter’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “About time he noticed.”

Even Wolffe, usually the most reserved of them all, let out a faint, resigned sigh. “He’s in trouble.”

***

(Y/n) felt it, too.

As they moved in perfect rhythm, her body following the subtle press of Rex’s hand at her waist, (Y/n) realized how easily he grounded her. How he made everything—the chaos, the expectations, the weight—feel just a little lighter.

She glanced up at him, searching his face. What is happening to me?

Rex looked down at her as though he could hear her unspoken question. His gaze held hers, steady and sure, his expression open in a way that made her chest tighten.

And for the first time, (Y/n) let herself feel it—the spark, the pull that she could no longer deny.

As the music slowed and the last note faded into the air, Rex didn’t let go of her hand right away. His fingers lingered against hers, his voice low and rough when he finally spoke.

“See?” he murmured. “One dance didn’t kill you.”

(Y/n) stared up at him, her heart thudding wildly. “No,” she whispered. “It didn’t.”

But it might have undone her entirely.

***

Lady Mara, hidden once again near the ballroom’s entrance, watched with narrowed eyes. Her sharp gaze swept over Rex and (Y/n) as they lingered just a second too long in the center of the room.

This cannot be allowed.

A plan was already forming in her mind. If love were to take root here, she would see it wither before it ever had the chance to bloom.

As the dance ended, and the room returned to its usual hum of conversation, Lady Mara turned sharply on her heel, slipping away into the shadows with purpose.

Let them play their games for now, she thought. It won’t last.

***

Thank you so much for reading the first part! 🌟 I had an absolute blast writing this story—it was such a joy to weave together the magic of the holidays

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Whether it’s your favorite moment, the scenes that made you smile, or even the twists that caught you by surprise—your reactions mean the world to me. 💕 Feel free to leave a comment, share your feelings, or even just drop by to say hi! And whether you'd be interested in a second part.

[extasiswings]

Buck and Eddie could full out have sex at the bachelor party in 7x06 and some of y’all would be like “Buddie canon is so dead/never happening” and also complain about it being bad and evil because “it’s cheating” or whatever 🙄

[nebula-remnants]

drew them while waiting for my class

[zootopiathingz]

Slow burn except I’m extremely impatient so they get together in like 4 chapters

[ariadnes-red-thread]

The Last Word: Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR: SAY NOTHING

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter [coming soon]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Brought face-to-face with Fives after their one-night stand, Mal faces hard choices and harder truths. Meanwhile, Fives knows at least one thing that this new battalion medic is hiding and he's beginning to suspect that there might be more.

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing (mostly in mand'o), Mentions of Umbara/past trauma and past sexual situations, canon-typical violence, character death mention/flashback

Chapter Word Count: 5.8k

Recommended Listening: Say Nothing by Flume feat. MAY-A

A/N: Another new chapter? Within a month? WHO IS SHE?

Ao3

Taglist

She was staring, a sardonic voice pointed out from somewhere deep within her. Mal snapped her mouth shut and clenched her jaw to keep it from falling open again. Fives was here.

For a moment, she glowed. Mal felt herself light up as the night before enveloped her. She thought about the boundless joy of his laugh, the soft friction of his facial hair, the heat of his broad body, the gentle and hungry press of his lips. Then, she caught the dull reflection of her green eyes in the durasteel wall behind him. 

Panic rippled through Mal’s body, casting any lightness into deep, dark shadow. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“This is Tup.” Mal’s heart was racing as Kix went down the line, oblivious to the inner turmoil that she’d been thrown into. “And this is Fives, our resident ARC.”

“And resident pain in the ass,” Jesse added.

Fives pressed his lips together in a smirk. There was no doubt he recognized her. The ripples of panic swelled into waves that threatened to pull her under any moment. She did the only thing she could think of.

“Nice to meet you.” Mal quickly spoke, a bit louder than she meant. 

Tup gave a cheerful reply that she only faintly heard. Instead, Mal stared at his brother. Fives’ eyebrows shot up. His eyes flashed over her and he frowned before he finally nodded. Mal let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Likewise.” Fives’ reply was pointed, but only to her.

“Come on,” Kix said as he took a step forward, oblivious to the thousand little unspoken words that had just passed between his new civilian medic and his brother. “I’m starving.”

The small group moved together to the mess hall. Around her, Jesse, Kix, and Tup joked and laughed. Only she and Fives walked in silence, sweating under the unforgiving lights. 

The waves of panic had passed, turning into a heavy rock that sat in the pit of her stomach. While Mal waited for his move, she ruminated on her bad luck. The chance of Fives being in her battalion had to have been a million to one. But here he was and now she was about to eat dinner with him. She half-listened to Jesse as he made a joke about GAR food and let out an obligatory laugh when she was supposed to, but inside, Mal was reeling.</p>

No Jedi, no medics, and especially no clones. She had that rule for cycles, and now one slip-up, fueled by alcohol and momentary passion, could undo everything. To begin with, it was unethical and unprofessional. She was already an outsider in an army of brothers. While the 104th was her family, the 501st wasn’t. They didn’t know her and she didn’t want them to make assumptions before they did. Then there was the moral failing of sleeping with her patient. She would have to care for him and now she risked her position being compromised. Any care she gave him or any of his brothers would be scrutinized to make sure she wasn’t showing favoritism, misusing resources, or wasting GAR time. The upper management of the civilian volunteer force would descend on her like a pack of danchafs. And that was if they didn’t just discharge her.

And that, she thought, as her. stomach began to turn, would be unthinkable. This was supposed to be her chance to make things right. The 501st was where she was going to find answers. But now a single mistake threatened it all. 

For one weak moment, Mal wondered if there was still time to transfer back. She missed the 104th more than ever. Sinker would think this was hilarious and do that thing where he laughed so hard he snorted. Boost would roll his eyes. Mal let out a small sigh to herself. She needed that right now. She could even go for one of Crux’s lectures.

The mess hall was loud and crowded. It pulled her back to her surroundings and away from the spiral of her inner monologue. Kix checked in to make sure she was familiar. After she reassured him, he and Jesse took off for the dessert station.

She gathered her tray and got in line. Involuntarily, her eyes drifted over the soldiers, trying to find Wolffe’s scowl, even though she knew it was light years away. Instead, she found only unfamiliar, familiar faces. Protein cubes turned her stomach in a good day and today she almost retched as it was plopped onto her plate.

“Not a fan?” Tup asked, making her start. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her in line. “Can’t say they’re my favorite either.”

“I uh…” Mal grimaced as she tried to fix her face. “Yeah.”

“Look at it.” Tup poked at the jiggling block before he shot her a commiserating look. “We got real meals on Kamino. 'Bout the only thing I miss about that soggy planet. But you get used to ‘em.”

You get used to ‘em. Mal nodded. She thought about telling Tup that no matter how many GAR meals she ate, the protein cubes would always taste of metal ore to her. But she didn’t say it. She opened her mouth just to make sure she could.

Mal followed Tup over to the table where the four other clones were waiting for them. Kix and Jesse were arguing over something that sounded like a battle strategy but also could have been a drinking game. Tup sat next to Jesse, and as Mal slid onto the bench beside him, She found herself face-to-face with Fives again. He was still watching her carefully.  

 Her hope for answers, everything she was here to do could shatter right before her eyes. She shifted her jaw as her mind raced. She could do something. Mal had to do something. 

“I’ll grab water for the table.” She put her tray down. “It’s Fives, right? Want to give me a hand?”

Fives raised an eyebrow at Mal as he hesitated, but curiosity seemed to get the better of him.

“Roger, roger.” He said as he stood, his umber eyes never leaving hers. 

For a moment, she hesitated, wilting in his dark look. Something in her wanted to make him laugh just so she could hear it again. Seconds passed and Mal felt the other three watching her curiously. She spun on her heels, and the table soon turned its attention and debate quickly pick back up. Fives was hot behind her, catching up to her pace in just a few strides. A moment of silence passed as Mal waited until she was out of earshot from the table.

“I’m sorry about the greeting.” Mal’s words were hushed, falling stuttered from her lips as she made her way across the mess with the ARC trooper. “I was caught off guard.”

“That makes two of us.”

His low voice was right in her ear. Her breath hitched just a little as she realized how close he was.

She finally reached the water fountain. Mal took five cups from the stack piled on the counter and handed two of them to Fives. This gave her a moment to look at the man. He stood less than a foot away, one armored hip leaning up against the counter as he waited on her next move. Mal swallowed. He was so very close. The last time he had been this close, his lips had been pressed against her cheek. She blinked, pushing the memory away. 

“I just think it’s best if we keep things professional.”

“You made that very clear.”  

Fives’ voice was still low and it was becoming increasingly unfriendly. A part of her stung as she realized she never would have thought it came from the same relaxed, warm man who was in her apartment just hours ago. Focus, Mal thought to herself, You have to do this.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” Mal started before Fives cut her off.

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika.” Fives’ tone returned to casual as he began to fill the glasses in his hands with water. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Despite his reassuring words, she couldn’t help feeling like she’d fucked up again. His attention never left the glasses and, after he finished, he took a wide step away, giving her plenty of space to fill her three cups. Mal walked silently back to their meals, several steps behind the clone. The men at the table had seemingly settled their debate, and decided to turn their attention to her.

“So you’re from the 104th, huh? What’s Wolffe actually like?” Jesse asked as she sat back in her seat. “I bet he’s a big softie.”

“You thought Fox would be a softie and how did that turn out?” Fives scoffed at his brother as he slid him a cup of water.

“I’ll win him over yet.” Jesse grinned.

“Not with that lifetime ban from the Senate you won’t.” Kix prodded Jesse with an elbow to the side.

Jesse waved off his brothers as he turned back to her. Mal quickly began to stuff the protein cube into her mouth to avoid his questions, only retching a little at the taste.

“Were you on Khorm when he lost his eye?”

Mal coughed, choking on the gelatinous mouthful. 

“Jesse, shut the fuck up,” Kix ordered. 

Mal shot Kix a grateful smile as she carefully swallowed. She hadn’t spent long with Kix, but she had a feeling he didn’t take that tone with Jessie often. Jessie, for his part, suddenly found himself preoccupied with his protein cube, a slightly sheepish look on his face.

“So what planet are you from?” Tup asked, trying to find a more friendly topic.

Her stomach clenched. Another subject she wanted to avoid. Mal hadn’t considered that this new squad wouldn’t know her from Chancellor Palpatine. There was a privilege in not having to explain herself and it was gone now.

She weighed the answer for a moment.

“Takodana.” Mal finally answered truthfully.

Fives snorted. Mal’s eyes shot to him as she waited. He just shook his head. Then he paused for a moment before he lifted his eyes to hers.

“Takodana? Why do I know that name?” Fives looked at her for the first time since they had both sat down.

She held her breath for a moment. She watched as he frowned, deep in thought. While Fives was distracted, Jesse spotted an opportunity. He snatched the cake from Fives’ tray while the clone was frowning at Mal.

“Hey!” Fives swiped at air as he realized the theft.

“That’s for the caf this morning.” Jesse grinned at the ARC trooper. 

Mal sighed in relief as Fives also excused himself quickly after. She watched out of the corner of her as he walked away. He didn’t look back. The conversation devolved into brotherly harassment as the boys lost all interest in grilling the new girl.

Mal stayed through the meal and long enough for Kix to give her a digital tour of the Venator med bay, but soon he released her with praise for her first day that mostly involved how well she put up with Jesse, and instructions for reporting bright and early tomorrow. The 501st was shipping out again. 

It wasn’t until her apartment door slid shut behind her, Mal realized she had made it back to her apartment. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had left it. The shadows seem longer, jutting out at strange angles, like the place wasn’t quite hers anymore. She didn’t bother to turn on the light as she dragged her body across the small studio, the city offering enough of its own through the windows. Mal stripped the jumpsuit from her body and threw herself into bed, exhausted emotionally and physically. Despite the tiredness that clung to her bones, she immediately sat back up. A spicy, sweet scent of whiskey, smoke, and heady sweat invaded her nostrils. It was Fives. He was still lingering on the sheets. 

She tossed for a few moments and tried to ignore it but, no matter what position she lay in, he followed her, his memory wrapped around her just as he had earlier that same day. She couldn’t escape it, no more than she could when she fumbled her greeting to him. She’d slept with one of the men she was supposed to protect, to help. Fraternization was specifically against the rules for civilians and GAR soldiers. She’d be discharged without a second thought. 

On the bedside table, the small Wolfpack pin glinted in the moonlight. She would fail Wolffe, Crux, and even Tye. And, worse, she would fail the twins. She turned again, but a new wave of Fives and a memory of his arms wrapping around her suddenly was suddenly all around her.

Mal huffed and threw the blankets back. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, sitting up. Mal hung her head, letting it fall to her palms for a moment. Too tired to change the sheets, she pulled her duvet behind her as she dragged herself to the chair. 

The nightmares came again that night.

Mal’s words were a bucket of ice down his spine. Cold and formal. He scanned her face but there was no hint of recognition. Fives reeled. For a moment, he teetered on the edge of calling her out. Nice to meet you? Did my dick give you amnesia? But then he thought about his vode. He didn’t need them to see this rejection. No, for all they knew he had a one-night stand who he left breathless and reeling and totally in love with him. He was going to keep it that way. For now.

“Likewise.” He finally settled on the curt reply.

“Come on,” Kix pushed forward, his mind on food as usual. “I’m starving.”

He watched her from the corner of his eye. She was laughing at something Jessie had said, but he could see that she was watching him too. Probably scared he was going to air her dirty little secret. Tup noticed something was wrong right away. He shot Fives a look as they were swept up in the mess hall crowd. A wordless conversation passed between them. A look of concern. A shrug of unconcern. An eyebrow of skepticism. A smile of reassurance. 

Relax, Fives reminded himself. Time to watch and see how this plays out. Think like an ARC. 

He piled his tray with fortified protein and settled into the table with his friends but no sooner than he had sat down, his eyes found her again. 

Mal trailed behind Tup. She shifted as she walked. A wiggle of her fingers, a soft clench and unclench of her jaw, a slight roll of her neck. It was like she was taking roll call of her body. A red curl escaped her hair tie and hung down over her eyes. She glanced at it and huffed, blowing it to the side. She glared at the errant lock as it fell back into her face, the dusting of freckles on her nose wrinkling. Tup led her to their table, sliding in next to Jesse, leaving enough room for Mal next to him, and right across from Fives.

She didn’t seem to realize where she was sitting until she was almost at his eye level. Finally, her jeweled orbs met his. Mal blinked as she stared at him for a moment. He tried to hold her emerald stare. Why, he wasn’t sure.

“I’m going to go grab water for the table.” She quickly announced to the table before she turned back to him. “It’s Fives, right? Want to give me a hand?”

The hesitancy was a nice touch. Smart. Fives raised an eyebrow as he considered her invitation. Half of him wanted to reject her immediately, but he wanted to see where this was going.

“Roger, roger.” He rose, stepping over the bench to follow her. 

Fives trailed behind her, watching as other clones turned, sometimes slowly and others obviously, and elbowed each other when they took notice of her. He couldn’t blame them, but a frown still snuck across his face. The gray jumpsuit with its long blue stripes along the seams swallowed up most civilian medics, but hers gently hugged her curves, showing the lines of her body that he had traced just hours ago. Luckily, before his mind could wander too far, Mal tilted her face up towards him. She had waited until they were out of earshot of the table.

“I’m sorry about the greeting.” Her voice was quiet. Something about that irritated him even more. There wasn’t even anyone else around and she was still scared of being noticed with him. “I was caught off guard.”

“That makes two of us.” Fives thought it was a measured response.

“I just think it’s best if we keep things professional.”

She wasn’t wrong. Fraternizing with civilian members of the GAR was strictly forbidden. He didn’t think Rex would care, and Skywalker… well that was a more unpredictable reaction, but he suspected the General would look the other way. Clones trapped under lesser Jedi would be at risk of reassignment or worse. Still, that didn’t excuse her and Fives pulled no punches with his tone.

“You made that very clear.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” She started.

Mal shifted under his blazing look. Fives decided that, whatever was coming next, he wasn’t going to hear it. She didn’t get to apologize to him. He didn't want it and he didn't need it. 

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika.” Fives kept his voice as even as he could as he turned to start filling up water glasses. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He turned back to the table, spilling water over his hands in the rush. He told himself to slow down. Breathe. He wasn’t going to let her ruin his mood. Ruin this day. Fuck that and fuck her.

He could sense Mal as she scurried behind him, trying to keep up with his long steps. They rejoined the table. Fives debated moving down next to Tup. He looked up at her again and she wilted under his stare. No, he decided. He was going to have to get used to this. His vode started in on her as soon as they got back to the table. Fives felt a flare of annoyance. 

“So you’re from the 104th? What’s Wolffe actually like?” Jesse jumped at the new girl. “I bet he’s actually a big softie.”

Fives snorted at Jesse, half-tempted to throw his water to him instead of pass it.

“You thought Fox would be a softie and how did that turn out?” Fives rolled his eyes. 

It was only last month that Fives had to go get Jesse from the base prison. Fox had glared out at him under hooded eyes, and stood still with crossed arms as Fives tried to bargain for Jesse’s release.  He knew that Fox knew that Fives had been involved with the plot to steal the Corrie Guard’s mastiff for the night, but that, unlike Jesse, they hadn’t been able to catch him. Eventually, Fox wordlessly punched a fist into a button, releasing Jesse from his cell, and then, with a single pointed finger, directed them both out of the brig. Fives wasn’t looking forward to the next time their paths crossed.

“I’ll win him over yet.” Jesse grinned, undeterred by the same memory.

“Not with that lifetime ban from all Senate buildings you won’t.” Kix prodded him with an elbow to the side.

Fives shook his head. He thought they had gotten away with their failed prank as they crawled back into their bunks, trying to get an hour of sleep before roll call. His eyes had just started to drift closed when Rex burst into the barracks, erupting and swinging his datapad at them. Somewhere in the scramble away from his momentarily deranged captain, he learned that Rex had woken up to several colorful messages informing him that Fox had banned Fives and Jesse from all Coruscant Guard-held spaces for life. It had taken twenty minutes and the promise of latrine duty for two weeks to soothe the Captain.

“Were you on Khorm when he lost his eye?”

“Jesse, shut the fuck up.” Kix snapped in a warning tone he rarely took with Jesse. Fives’ eyes flashed to Kix. Interesting. He was protective of his new medic already.

“What planet are you from?” Tup said mildly, carefully changing the subject.

“Takodana.” 

Fives snorted. A hick from a rural backwater planet. Then he heard it. Takodana. Fives’ spine stiffened at a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. That sounded familiar. He knew a lot of planets at this point. Ones he’d been to and ones he hadn’t. But there was something about that name that tugged on some recollection or information buried somewhere deep in his databanks of training. 

“Takodana? Why do I know that name?” Fives finally let his eyes meet hers again.

Her beryl eyes widened and he watched as a flash of fear rippled across her face. It was gone in the next second. He might have even imagined it. He wanted to dwell on it, to hold the moment and tear it open until he understood, but a motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Hey!” He said, as Jesse snatched his cake from his tray.

Fives tried to swipe out to grab it but it was too late. His vod planted his fork into the stolen dessert.

“That’s for the caf this morning.” Jesse stuck his tongue out at Fives with a victorious wink.

Fives shook his head at Jesse and waved his hand in surrender. 

“Savor it, vod.” He forced a laugh as he stood. “See you all later.”

Leaving the suffocating din of the mess hall behind, Fives followed a familiar path to Rex’s office. The durasteel hallways were empty while everyone was at dinner, and the only sound was the rhythmic echo of his boots against the floor. Usually, Fives appreciated these quiet moments alone. He loved his brothers, and he knew he could be as loud as any of them, but moments where he could hear himself think were precious and far apart when in an army of millions.  There was nothing solitary about this moment, though. His thoughts marched beside him, louder than the clang of his footsteps, with memories as all-consuming as the vacuum of space. It wasn’t until Fives reached Rex’s door that he snapped out of the deep trance. There were voices on the other side.

The blast door slid open just as Fives raised his hand to knock. He stepped back to let General Skywalker and General Kenobi walk out.

“Hello there, Fives,” Kenobi greeted him as Anakin nodded.

“Evening, Generals.” He saluted the Jedi. “Commander Tano.”

The Togruta followed behind the Masters, buzzing with an excitement that Fives knew could only mean a new mission.

“Be nice to Rex,” Ahsoka winked at Fives and he felt his icy mood melt just a little. Ahsoka’s good moods were infectious around the 501st. When she was happy, they all tended to be. “He just spent two hours trying to rein in Skyguy's battle plans.”

Her master shot a look of annoyance at the padawan and the clone before he chuckled and shrugged.

“She’s not wrong.” Anakin flashed a brazen grin at the ARC trooper.

“I’m shocked, General.” Fives smiled back before he turned to Ahsoka with a wink of his own. “And when have I ever been mean to Rex?”

All three Jedi laughed at that.

“Have a good evening, Fives.” Anakin bowed his head before the three Jedi turned back to their journey, likely back to the Temple.

“You too, Sirs.”

Fives stepped into the dark office space. Rex sat at his desk, massaging his temples, as he frowned at a holomap glowing in the dim light.

“Tano and Kenobi act like Skywalker’s the crazy one, but they’re all just as bad.” Rex groaned, not looking up at Fives. 

“We’ll make the most of their plans and take whatever the Seppies throw at us.” Fives settled into one of the chairs across from Rex. “You know that, Captain.”

“Of course,” Rex pressed his thumb to a button on his desk, and the holomap disappeared. The lights returned to the room, and he leaned back into his chair, taking on the quiet calm that came from being alone with an old friend. 

“How’d the debrief with the council go yesterday?” Fives asked. He didn’t want Rex to think he rushed in here to ask about Mal. 

“As well as expected,” Rex grumbled. “Most were supportive. A couple of them tried to press me. Didn’t got over well with me or General Skywalker though.”

“We saved the galaxy from one of Dooku’s pawns, and there's Jedi out there pushing back against us?”

“Just a one or two. General Billaba had some hard questions.”

“Billaba's been out of the fight too long. I know she went through it after Haruun Kal, but to be questioning us? That's kark, sir.” Fives crossed his arms. "She just got that seat back anyways."

“They’re allowed to ask questions. It was certainly a… unique situation.”

“Well, if you need someone to take out another Jedi…”

“That’s not funny, Fives. You’re just dying to get that court martial.” 

“I was going to suggest Tup.” Fives wiggled his brows.

“Di’kut.” Rex muttered under his breath as his eyes shot upward.

Fives chuckled, enjoying the little victory of pulling an eye roll from Rex.

“The briefing’s not why you’re here, though.” Rex’s serious look melted into a wry smile. “What’s on your mind, Fives?”

Fives sighed. He never could keep anything from Rex. Maybe it was because they were brothers, or maybe it was because Rex had known him since he was a shiny on his first mission. Sometimes, he suspected it was because he was similar to Rex in ways the older clone would never admit. Whatever it was, Rex could tell he wasn’t just in his office for a nightcap.

“The new medic… what’s her deal?” Fives asked, hoping his voice was more neutral than he felt.

“Amal Darroch?” Rex raised an eyebrow at him. “Comes highly decorated and recommended from the 104th. Took everything I had to pry her from Wolffe.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, he hung up on me the first three times I asked.” Rex chuckled to himself. Fives sometimes forgot that Rex was a younger brother too.

“We need medics that bad?” Fives frowned.

“Not just medics. We need the best medics.” Then Rex eyed the arc trooper. “Come on, you know that better than anyone. Kix is ready to ban you from the medbay.”

Fives tried to smile at the joke but found it refused to come. Instead, he kept thinking about Mal.

“And she’s the best?” 

“What’s on your mind, Fives?” Rex repeated. “You’re usually not this shy about sharing.”

“Dunno…” She’s hiding something. Maybe multiple things. He wanted to shout it, grab Rex by the shoulders and shake him until he could see what Fives saw, but instead, he hesitated. They did need medics, and they needed good ones. If she was that good, his brothers would be better off with her around. “Just have some questions about her, is all.”

“Well, I’m here if you need anything.” Rex reached for his datapad, sensing the conversation was over. “Just try not to kill her or kriff her.”

Fives finally forced a laugh as he stood with a small salute.

“Roger, roger.”

Fives shut the door behind him, leaving Rex to his plans. The silent hallways that lined his path back to the barracks were even louder on his return route. Mal’s face swam before him. A flash of her laugh and the parting of her full lips melted into the image of her stoic greeting. And if she was hiding this, what else was she hiding? Why did a civilian join the war when most of them prefered to stay safe on their cities and planets far from the battle lines? What game was she playing here? This wasn’t a game to him. This was his life and his brothers’ lives. He thought of how she shifted in her seat at the mention of Takodana. There was no doubt about it. Mal was hiding more than just their night together, and Fives would have to keep an eye on her until he found out what it was.

…

Her paddle sliced through the inky glass of the water with the precision of a beskar blade. She quickly lifted the wooden tool, letting the canoe propel forward with the smallest wake. Despite the exactness of her strokes, Mal never looked down. Instead, she frowned at the horizon. It was dark and the air still held the wet chill of the night before it turns to dew, but the midnight blue at the very edges of the sky had started to pale, a sure sign that she had stayed too long. She wasn’t late. Not yet. But she paddled with a speed that she hadn’t practiced in a long time. Her shoulders ached, muscles that had long been forgotten in the mines, called out in protest of her neglect but she never winced or paused. 

She stepped out into the shallows without a splash and pulled the boat into the overgrown shore where she covered it in the browning large leaves and the ivy, damp from yesterday’s rain. Mal wiped the soil on her palms along the edges of her poncho before she reached a hand into the bag at her side. She felt the delicate petals of the nysillin and finally let her shoulders fall from her ears.

The path was overgrown, disused in the last year since the Mining Guild came, but she knew it by heart. Her feet led on as she scanned the dark underbrush, one hand on her blaster and the other one on her bag. 

She’d only made a few steps into the dark woods when a sound made her stop. Someone or something had coughed. In a flash, she pulled her blaster from her hip, gripping it at the ready as she scanned the trees. 

“How did I know I’d find you still here?”

Her eyes finally landed on the source of the sound. Leaning against a large oak a few yards up the path was a tall man, his muscled arms crossed in front of his broad chest, cutting a stern profile in the shadow of the woods. Her eyes focused on the shape and, in the last throes of starlight, she began to make out a familiar profile.

“Couldn’t help me with the boat, huh?” Mal raised an eyebrow as she lowered her blaster.

“As I recall, last time I tried to help you with the boat, you hit me with an oar.” The sandy-haired man gave a small sideways smile and for a brief moment, she recognized the boy she grew up with.

She snorted, “I forgot about that.” She watched the smile evaporate from his face and the boy she knew was gone and replaced with a soldier. Before she could wonder if he something similar had passed through his mind, she let her eyes fall to her side as she lowered her weapon. “I could have shot you.”

“You probably should’ve.” Niall’s tone was suddenly stern. “But you’re still too slow on the trigger.”

“I’m cautious,” she bit back. Mal walked past the shadow.

“Not cautious enough. What are you still doing out here?”

Mal sighed, stopping to let him catch up to her. They walked side-by-side but they both carefully watched the woods around them as they went, blasters still drawn.

“Which one?” Even though she knew the answer.

“Taron, of course.” Niall tutted, knowing she knew.

“He shouldn’t have worried you.”

“What if Aavia was out here? You know she senses these things. She wouldn’t think twice before killing you and your brothers just for fun.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Mal snapped. “She’s not even planet side. I checked.”

“Still a risk.”

“I needed nysillin.” She stopped short as a tree swayed, but it was only the wind. “Maz hasn’t been able to get anything through the blockade in weeks.”

“Well that’s up to me to worry about.” Niall turned to her and reached out. He gripped her shoulders a little too hard. “Mal, your Da told me to keep you out of this fight.”

“That’s not his decision anymore, is it?” She took a step back as she shrugged.

The step back became a step forward and then another until she fell through the familiar wood doorway.

A pair of green eyes met her. Taron was sitting at the table with his blaster trained at the door. She didn’t have time to wonder where Cadex was. The door shut behind her and she knew if she turned, the other twin would be behind with his own blaster.

“You’re late.” Taron snapped with all the angst of a teenager as Cadex threw the bolt with a click. 

Mal tossed the nysillin on the table before she sprang forward to take advantage of her sitting brother. She ran a hand through his hair, something that always drove him crazy, but was much harder now that he was taller than her.

Taron scoffed and quickly flattened his red locks back down.

“Stop, you’re so annoying.” Taron huffed.

“That was stupid.” Cadex frowned, circling around the table to lecture her. “You cut it too close.”

Mal knew it wouldn’t help his mood, but she smiled as Cadex crossed his arms. He was doing his best impression of Jonan Darroch, even if he didn’t realize it.

“Okay, Da.” she giggled.

Mal blinked and then started, laughter dying in her lips.

Where Cadex had been standing, Jonan Darroch now stood. Where their house had been, the town center had filled in the gaps, leaking through the floorboards like quicksand, pulling their house down to reveal only gray stone and boarded-up shops. Mal knew what came next. A red lightsaber already glowed in her Da's belly.

“You were supposed to protect them.” Da’s voice filled the square and echoed off the cobblestone as it filled her ears, his face contorting as his last breath twisted his words into a piercing shriek.

Jonan Darroch, a tall blue woman stepped out, letting the man collapse to the ground as she drew back her blade. Mal watched as her Da crumbled, lifeless. She tried to run to him, to scream for help, but she found herself frozen. Again.

Aavia smirked, her red eyes sparkling with a cruel mirth. Behind her, the twins stood still, arms behind their backs. She forgot how much taller Taron was now. When she looked up at him, she could see the emerald lodes running out from his dark pupils. 

Not irises. Veins. She could see the veins of the leaves, even on the gray day. Rivers of water ran along its creased center and fell off in heavy droplets onto her face. Aavia’s gleeful voice cut the patter of the rain.

“And you called me a murderer.”

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

Honestly think between Trump and Israeli-American push towards war and destabilization in the middle east might be what finally kills the United States of America, or at least, neutralizes it as the world power it currently is.

[bunny7567]

I got you - chapter 12

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!ofc

Word count: 7.2k Tags/Warnings: NSFW 18+; drunk sex; piv sex, face-sitting; some degradation; fingering; cumshot on the back? idk how to say this; heavy drinking; Fives and Lexie find out they have something interesting in common; she's not a bad person I swear, she just has anxiety; there's some angst in here too; also can you tell I'm an only child who always wanted to have a big brother?

A/n: so we finally get to the smut. It's the first proper sex scene I've ever written, hope it's good. It's definitely not word for word the fantasies I have about what I'd want this character to do to me... definitely not that. I am simultaneously really excited to see if people will like this chapter and also want to hide under a rock after I hit post, weird combination.

Previous chapter | Next chapter

chakaar - scumbag, bitch, bastard vod'ika - little brother, little sister mesh'la - beautiful

~~~

Coruscant was still recovering from the Zillo beast rampage as Lexie was slowly making her way to the barracks. Echo and Fives were supposed to return from their ARC training tonight, so she finally felt like she had something to look forward to. It had definitely been some eventful few days. From joining Mace Windu’s forces on Malastare, to the frustrating negotiations with the Dugs, to fighting the nearly indestructible Zillo beast, it had been one bad thing after the other.

But thankfully the 501st had a few days of much needed rest, and Lexie was all caught up with her reports and ready to go out and celebrate with the new ARCs like they had planned. She made more of an effort tonight, she was wearing the new, white crochet blouse she’d just bought the previous day, over a blue bandeau top, with high-waist, leather-like shorts. Her blue hair was pulled back in a ponytail, secured by two braids that started from her temples and her makeup was more sparkly than usually.

She felt a bit insecure, especially with the looks she got from some of the other Jedi as she was leaving the Temple, but she tried to reassure herself that it was a nice outfit, and good for a night out.

However, her insecurities were also coming from the fact that she’d have to see a certain Captain she’s been sort of avoiding, something that filled her mind with uneasiness.

They had spoken very little on the way to Malastare. Rex had been nervously waiting for her after the briefing, and had asked to talk to her privately. The two had walked in silence until they reached an empty corridor, and awkwardly stood facing each other until Rex found the words he had been rehearsing since the previous night in the break room.

“General, I need to apologise to you”, he started.

“No, it’s fine, Rex, don’t-”, she tried to interject.

“No, I… I am very ashamed of my behaviour. I had too much to drink and I… I wasn’t thinking properly. I am sorry and I promise it’ll never happen again”, he continued, trying to sound as professional as he could.

Lexie couldn’t help the way her heart sunk as she heard the words, it really hurt hearing them. The way he’d gently caressed her face, the fact that he’d almost asked to kiss her, it was all she had been able to think the entire night. But he hadn’t meant it and now she was sure of it.  That sounded about right though. Of course he didn’t share her feelings, he hadn’t actually wanted to kiss her. She felt so stupid that she had allowed herself to entertain the idea that maybe he did love her back. She swallowed hard before pushing all her emotions out of her mind.

“I understand, Captain. Thank you for your apology. Let’s just try to forget it ever happened”, she said in a forced calm voice.

Rex had only nodded, avoiding looking into her eyes. He knew he’d break if he did, he’d keep talking and end up backtracking on his apology and admitting how much he wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to make her his. Instead he just left, and he continued avoiding her. He was relieved that she wasn’t as upset with him as he worried she’d be, but the tension between them was undeniable. He had really kriffed up and he wasn’t sure how long it’ll take for their friendship to recover.

While on Malastare, things had gotten a little better. The tension was still lingering in the air between them, but they managed to fight side by side, to have each other’s backs, and even to casually chat while on the flight back to Coruscant. It still felt awkward, but both of them had decided to pretend that the night in the break room never happened, for the sake of their friendship.

Once Lexie reached the base, she made her way to the hangar and joined Jesse, Kix and Hardcase who were already there waiting. She had timed it well this time and was on time to see the shuttle arrive on the landing platform and watch as Fives and Echo disembarked and made their way towards them, helmets tucked under their arms.

A bright smile appeared on her face as she watched them proudly walk into the hangar, dressed in their new ARC trooper armor. They had even found the time to customise it and she looked them both up and down, her gaze then landing on the smug smile on Fives’ face. She hated to admit it but her friend looked good, really good. They stopped at attention in front of her and saluted, a gesture which she returned on this occasion, before dropping the formalities and hugging them tightly.

“You look amazing, mesh’la”, Fives whispered in her ear.

Lexie rolled her eyes fondly before stepping out of the way so that the others could greet their brothers. She cursed at herself when she realised that his comment had actually made her blush, something that Fives noticed, bringing him a great deal of satisfaction.

“So, what do you think?”, Fives asked as he gestured to his armor.

“Hmm, not sure, give us a twirl?”, Lexie replied in a playful tone. Fives obliged.

“You look the part, let’s see if you can play it too”, Jesse said with a laugh.

“You jealous?”, Fives quipped.

“Of you?”, Jesse scoffed.

“Echo. Fives. Good to have you back”, Rex’s voice sounded from behind, making Lexie instantly tense as she felt his presence.

She moved to the side, a little outside of the group, letting the men catch up. Her eyes kept drifting to Rex and the smile she had carefully crafted was beginning to falter as the conversation progressed and he did not once look in her direction.

Lexie moved her gaze back to the two friends she had really missed but felt her stomach turn a little as she met Echo’s eyes. He was looking between her and Rex with a questioning look. Echo was always so perceptive of her distress, of course he immediately noticed the tension. She swallowed hard and tried to look away but it was too late to pretend that everything was fine, as Echo moved closer to her.

“Are you alright, vod’ika?”, he asked quietly.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”, she answered automatically. Her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she fully processed his words and looked up at him, a smile slowly returning to her face. “Vod’ika? You know I’m older than you right?”.

“Eh, feels right like that”, Echo replied, gently nudging her with his elbow. “If you don’t mind, of course”.

“No! I-I don’t mind at all… it actually means so much”, she said quietly.

Lexie suddenly felt overwhelmed by her emotions and for a second she thought she was going to cry. Echo really did feel like the big brother she’d always wanted, and hearing him call her his little sister filled her heart with a warm, joyful feeling. She let out a small chuckle and Echo put an arm around her, bringing her in for a side hug.

“So… come on, what’s going on? You seem really tense”, he pressed.

She glanced back towards Rex and caught him abruptly looking away from her.

“It’s nothing. Just been some stressful few weeks”.

“Alright. I’m here if you want to talk about it”, he said, releasing her from the hug.

Their attention was caught by a sharp whistle made by Fives.

“Are we going or what?”, he asked with a grin.

“Yes! Let’s go”, Lexie said, allowing a grin as big as his to appear on her face.

The 79s was crowded, mostly with troopers in the 501st blue who could finally enjoy some downtime after months of deployment. Fives practically sprinted towards their usual booth, making sure to snatch it before a couple troopers who were heading towards it could sit down. A few curses in Mando’a were mumbled by the other men as they walked away in search of another table.

Lexie made sure to slow down, falling in step with Rex. She really wanted to sit next to him tonight. The two of them were the last to reach the booth and the Captain stopped to allow her to sit down first before taking the seat next to her. She looked at him and offered a small smile which he returned. This is good. We’ll have some drinks and laugh and by the end of the night everything will be back to normal.

The first round of drinks was ordered, Jesse insisting they all tried some new cocktail he had the last time he was there.

“It’s really good, it’s called Red supernova”, he said.

“Yeah, but a cocktail vod?”, Hardcase asked making a face.

“It’s good, trust me”, Jesse insisted.

“It really is but it’s definitely not new”, Lexie interjected.

“Wait really?”, Jesse asked.

“Yeah, it’s what I was drinking that first night we met”, she replied with a chuckle.

“When did you even start liking cocktails?”, Fives asked Jesse.

“Sivra made me try it last time I was here”, Jesse replied.

“Who’s Sivra?”, Echo asked.

“The drop-dead gorgeous Mikkian I rescued from humiliation after Rex just left her on the dancefloor”, Jesse replied smugly. “Still can’t understand what the hell was wrong with you vod, but your loss”, he continued, addressing the Captain.

“You just left a girl on the dancefloor? And since when do you even dance? I’ve only seen you do it once, when Lexie dragged you with her”, Fives asked with a laugh.

“She wasn’t really my type. And I wasn’t on the dancefloor, we were stood close to it, talking”, Rex tried to excuse himself.

“Banthashit! since when are pink-skinned women not your type, vod?”, Hardcase quipped.

Lexie’s felt a pit form in her stomach at that comment but she forced herself to keep a smile on her face. She turned her head slightly to see his reaction.

“I wouldn’t say they are, no”, Rex replied, feeling uncomfortable.

“Really? So most of the women you hooked-up with don’t have pink skin?”, Hardcase pushed. “Cause I definitely remember you leaving this place with two different pink-skinned Twi’lek girls in the past-”.

“And there was that Mirialan as well, what was her name? Astri?”, Jesse interjected.

“Could we not go through my dating history right now?”, Rex said defensively, earning more laughs from his brothers.

Lexie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, moving closer to Fives who was on her left. She felt like such an idiot for ever allowing herself to believe that Rex might like her back. I’m not even his kriffin’ type.

She was now sat so close to Fives that their legs were touching.

“Missed me that much, mesh’la?”, he leaned closer to quietly say in her ear.

His hot breath on her skin made her shiver and she turned her head to look at him. “Maybe I did”, she said matching his sweet tone.

They were interrupted by the droid waitress that arrived with their drinks and Lexie eagerly reached for hers. The group toasted the new ARC troopers and she downed most of the beverage in one go. Curious eyes flickered to her.

“Whoa, slow down. Are you okay Lex?”, Fives asked, placing a hand on her leg.

“Just really needed a drink after the whole Zillo beast disaster”, she said, choosing to mention only one part of what was bothering her. She could feel Rex’s eyes burnt into her side but she refused to turn her head and meet his gaze.

“What actually happened? We saw the damage from the shuttle, looks like the place has been bombarded”, Echo asked.

Lexie let out a scornful laugh. “Do you want to fill them in on that? Cause if I do I will end up saying some things about the Chancellor that I will definitely regret”, she scoffed, finally looking at Rex.

“Look, I know you don’t approve of what happened, but that thing had to be stopped”, Rex tried to argue.

“That thing was sentient. And the last of its kind”, Lexie said with indignation. “It should not have been brought to Coruscant in the first place. The Chancellor is-”.

She abruptly stopped herself, grip tightening on her glass. The Chancellor was fully responsible for all the death and destruction that the creature had caused and Lexie was angry and frustrated with the Jedi Council for going along with it. But she had already had this argument with Rex, an argument that had ended with him warning her that she sounded treasonous, and she didn’t want to pick it up again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Let’s just change the subject. I’m sorry I brought it up in the first place”, she continued, pinching the bridge of her nose. “So, Fives, Echo, what kinds of trouble did you get into during training”.

“That’s just rude, why would you assume we got into any trouble?”, Fives faked being offended.

“Because we’ve met you”, Kix chimed in with a laugh.

The conversation shifted back to their ARC training and more drinks were ordered for the table. The twins did actually get into some trouble and the group laughed as they recalled the events.

As she was now feeling a bit more relaxed, Lexie shifted a bit closer to Rex again, her knees bumping his thigh. The three drinks she’d had in close succession were starting to affect her a little, making her feel a pleasant buzz and lowering her inhibitions. She leaned closer to him in order to have a more private conversation.

“Are you having fun, Captain?”, she asked.

“I am, General. You?”, he answered with a level tone, leaning towards her as well.

“Are we okay, Rex?”, she blurted out. “Because I am sorry for what I said after the Zillo beast was killed. I know how much you care about the Republic and hearing me criticizing it must’ve been quite disappointin-”

“Lexie”, he cut her off. “I think you misunderstood me. I wasn’t accusing you of anything, I was just trying to protect you”.

She looked at him with a confused frown.

“I understood where you were coming from, why you got angry, and I even agree with you to some degree. But we were in public, and I noticed General Windu was watching you. I was worried you’d get in trouble”, he continued, keeping his voice low.

“Oh”, was all she could reply. She hadn’t noticed Mace Windu had been watching her, she really could’ve gotten into trouble if he had heard her criticize the Chancellor so openly. A warm feeling stirred in her chest. “Thank you… for always looking out for me, Rex”, she said quietly.

“That’s what friends are for, right?”, he said with a half-smile she didn’t realise was a little forced.

A few drinks later, Lexie was on the dancefloor with Fives, Echo and Hardcase, jumping around together to the lively music of the club. Jesse was at the bar, trying to sweet talk a Chalactan woman who didn’t seem too impressed by his charms, while Kix had just returned to their table and was sat next to Rex. She didn’t have any luck tonight in getting the Captain to dance with them so far, but she also didn’t want to push too much and ruin the progress they had made in repairing their friendship.

Hardcase was now dancing with a Mirialan woman that had been trying to get his attention for the past three songs, which had prompted Lexie to just drag him over to her and introduce him. She liked playing “wingman” to her friends every now and then.

When she returned to where they had been dancing she noticed that Echo had gone to their table, leaving only Fives waiting for her with a sly smile on his face. She flashed him a smile of her own and they continued dancing together and singing along to the songs they knew, his hands coming to rest on her hips as they swayed in tandem to the music, while her arms rested around his neck. After a few songs they both decided to take a break from dancing and return to the group at the table.

“I’ll be right there”, Lexie told him before making her way to the fresher.

As she was heading back to their booth, weaving through the bodies of sentients, her eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar Tholothian woman on the other side of the dancefloor. Gemma was dancing with a trooper from the 212th, looking gorgeous in a gold dress that perfectly complemented her dark skin. Osik. Panic flooded Lexie’s senses as she hurried back to her table, keeping her head down. She wasn’t sure if she had seen her.

As she got to the booth, she jumped over Fives, landing between him and Echo, using the former as cover, as she melted into the seat and tried to hide. Rex shot her a confused look from across the table.

“You good, vod’ika?”, Echo asked her. She managed a weak hum of agreement.

This was bad, really bad. With all the missions that they’d had ever since she joined the 501st, she did not have the time to think about Gemma. She had wanted so much to apologise after seeing her that night all those months ago, and even came close to contacting her after Erosh-4, but had decided against it since she was not in a good headspace at that time. But after that came deployment after deployment, and her conflicting feelings for Rex that fully occupied her mind, and Gemma simply slipped away from her thoughts. She felt so guilty and ashamed it was making her nauseous.

“You're in trouble, Gemma's here”, Jesse announced as he returned to the table.

“How do you know about Gemma?”, Lexie exclaimed, panic clear in her voice.

Both Jesse and Fives looked at her with a confused look on their faces. “I was telling Fives-”, Jesse started saying.

“Well... so you're not dead after all”, Gemma’s voice sounded. She had approached the table and was stood next to Jesse, glaring down at Lexie.

Lexie felt all eyes turn to her as the conversation between Kix, Rex and Echo came to an abrupt stop.

“Gemma, h-hi...”, she started.

“How... how do you two know each other?”, Gemma asked, looking between Lexie and Fives. The look on her face was of horrified shock.

“Fives is part of my battalion”, she replied.

 “Oh, of course! That makes perfect, perfect sense”, Gemma said with a forced, sarcastic laugh. “Because where else would Fives learn to treat a woman in such a despicable way if not from you?”.

Lexie could feel Rex’s eyes on her and guilt and embarrassment were filling her mind. What will he think of me now?

“That's not fair Gemma”, she said quietly.

“Oh it's not fair? And you deserve fair? After everything?”, the Tholothian sneered.

“I'm sorry, I really… I-”

“You're sorry? You treat me like complete shit but you're sorry and it's ok?”, Gemma interrupted.

 “Gemma, please. You cannot put all that on me and you know it”, Lexie tried to protest.

“You are unbelievable”, Gemma said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I'm not sure what's happening but I feel like I should-”, Fives tried to pipe in.

“You should what? Throw some empty promises around, leave and never call? Just like you taught him, right Lexie?”, Gemma continued in a contemptuous tone of voice.

“Gemma, come on...”, Lexie tried to reason with her.

“No! You know what? You two... you two are perfect together. Absolutely perfect” Gemma said with spirited gestures of her hands, raising her voice. “So why don't the two of you just fuck each other and leave the rest of us alone?”.

With that, Gemma walked away and Lexie watched as she headed to the exit of the cantina. She wanted to run after her, apologise properly, but she felt frozen in place. Everyone at the table was watching her and she was so embarrassed. Her eyes flickered to Rex who was looking at her with brows furrowed in confusion. She leaned forward and let her forehead rest on the table with a thump, squeezing her eyes shut. If only her Jedi abilities allowed for her to open the ground and let it swallow her whole.

“What just happened?”, Kix asked with a bewildered chuckle.

Lexie sat back up and let out a long breath. “What are the chances you guys could pretend that nothing happened and not ask me to explain?”.

“Zero. Now spill. How do you know Gemma?”, Fives asked her.

“Wait, how do you know her? Please tell me you didn’t…”, Lexie returned his question but could not bring herself to finish the sentence.

“I hooked-up with her a few time. Why?”, Fives said.

A horrified look was plastered across Lexie’s face and Jesse let out a snort, as he was the first one to put two and two together.

“No… don’t tell me you both…”, he tried to unsuccessfully say between laughs.

She looked at Jesse who was laughing then at Fives, seeing the wheels turn in his head.

“You didn’t…”, Fives said with an amused expression, looking at her. “You also slept with her?”, he asked loudly.

Lexie let out a groan and put her face in her hands. “It’s actually worse than that”, she said, voice muffled by her hands. She rubbed her temples for a little bit before straightening. “Maker just take me now”, she mumbled, looking up at the ceiling.

“Okay, you really need to explain”, Echo said from her right.

“I mean I don’t really need to, I could just leave”, she said as she stood up.

Fives pulled her back down by an arm. “Oh no, you’re not getting out of this that easy”, he said with a chuckle. “Spill”.

“Ugh, fine”, she groaned. “Before the war started, Gemma and I were in a sort of friends with benefits arrangement. Or, that’s what it started as anyway, but she became too attached and I didn’t know how to deal with it so I kind of just… completely ghosted her”, she explained, squeezing her eyes shut and scrunching her nose as she said that last part.

“How long was that going on for”, Jesse asked as he sat down next to Rex.

“Uhm… about 11 months”, she admitted, looking down at the table.

“11?! Lexie that’s basically a relationship”, Kix exclaimed.

“Yeah, I know, I…”, she stumbled over her words before reaching for Echo’s glass and downing the alcohol in it. “She did know I was a Jedi, alright? From the beginning. She knew I couldn’t do attachments. Yes, I should’ve put a stop to it when I sensed the feelings she was developing, but I let it keep dragging on for a few more months. I did like her, I just never felt the same as she was feeling… and then, when she eventually told me she wanted more I didn’t know how to reject her without hurting her so I panicked, told her I needed some time to think about it, but then I just went MIA on her”.

“I would not have pegged you for a fuckboy, Lex”, Fives joked, nudging her with his elbow.

“N-No! no, it was not like that”, she turned to him, lifting a finger to empathise her point. “I wanted to talk to her, I just needed some time to figure out how to let her down gently. But then I was called for the Battle of Geonosis, and I got injured and I was in a coma and then I pretty much immediately joined you guys… I… I feel really fucking awful about it…”, she trailed off.

Fives put an arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and closed her eyes, taking in a shaky breath. “Come on, it’s not that bad. We’ve all messed up with girls”, he tried to comfort her. Jesse piped in with some agreements.

“I’d say the coma and the war is a pretty good excuse for not contacting her”, Kix added, offering her a small, supportive smile.

“Well, I still feel like a complete chakaar”, she said with an embarrassed chuckle.

“You’re not. Don’t be so hard on yourself”, Echo interjected.

Lexie’s eyes flickered towards Rex and she felt a pit form in her stomach. He was avoiding her gaze, focused on the glass in his hand. She realised he had not said anything during the entire conversation. How much had she fallen in his eyes tonight, she wondered. She doubted he liked her anymore.

“I need more alcohol”, she mumbled as she got up, shuffled past Fives and headed to the bar.

Fives shot Rex a pointed look, silently urging him to do something, but when he realised the Captain was not going to go after Lexie, he got up himself and followed after her.

“Are you okay, mesh’la?”, he asked, coming to stand next to her at the bar.

“Could’ve done without all that humiliation earlier”, Lexie replied after she ordered whiskey for the two of them.

“It really wasn’t that bad. I’ve had worse”, he offered leaning on the bar and facing her.

“Yeah, like what?”, she asked, mimicking his body language.

“I had a drink thrown in my face after hitting on a woman I had already slept with but completely forgot about”, Fives said with an embarrassed chuckle. “Now that was bad”.

“How do you even do that?”, she asked with a laugh.

“It was a drunken hook-up in the back alley, and honestly I didn’t even pay that much attention to what she looked like, I still had you on my mind”, he replied nonchalantly.

Lexie choked on the drink she’d just received from the bartender. “What?”, she managed to ask between coughs.

“It wasn’t like that. Or… okay, maybe a little. It was that night after we first met so I was mainly worried that I’ll get reprimanded for hitting on a Jedi. But, I guess I was also thinking what a shame that you were a Jedi, because, come on, you’re hot. Would have loved to go home with you that night”, he said before taking a sip from his drink. The wide-eyed expression on Lexie’s face was bringing him a lot of satisfaction.

“You really are a bold one”, she said with a nervous laugh, trying to feign some composure.

“I try”, Fives replied with a shrug and a disarming smile.

Lexie felt her cheeks burning so she looked away, trying to laugh it off. Her gaze wondered back to their table and, to her surprise, she noticed that Rex wasn’t there anymore. She looked around a little but could not see the Captain anywhere.

“Looking for Rex?”, Fives asked her, watching her intently.

“What? No”, she replied automatically.

“He’s upstairs”, he said, gesturing with his head to the platform of the first floor. “He said while you were in the fresher that he’s gonna join Commanders Ponds, Fox and Cody at one point”.

“Good for him”, she replied trying to sound unbothered, while struggling to resist the urge to look in the direction he had pointed to.

“What’s going on with the two of you?”, he asked bluntly.

“What do you mean?”, she countered.

“Lex, come on. I’ve been watching you tonight, you seem really tense around him”, Fives said.

“You’ve been watching me?”, she asked in a playful tone, taking a step closer to him.

“You’re deflecting”, he remarked, following her lead and leaning closer.

“There is nothing going on”. She finished her drink, eyes not leaving his. “Let’s go back to dancing”, she said.

Fives chuckled and shook his head slightly. He downed the remainder of his drink before grabbing her hand and guiding her to the dancefloor. Lexie wasted no time wrapping her arms around his neck, while he placed his hands on her waist. She felt his fingers slip through the holes of her crochet blouse, slowly caressing the skin underneath. The touch sent a shiver up her back and she pressed herself closer to his chest.

For the next couple of hours, Lexie danced, needing to forget about everything, only stopping every now and then in order to do more shots. She got Echo, Kix and Jesse back onto the dancefloor after dancing exclusively with Fives for four songs, and the group danced and jumped around to the music together, until Kix left with the Chalactan woman that had rejected Jesse earlier that evening. Hardcase had long gone home with the Mirialan he had been dancing with, leaving Lexie with only Fives, Echo and Jesse.

She’d steal glances towards the platform of the first floor from time to time, catching Rex looking at her on a few occasions. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and it was really frustrating her. She watched as he and Cody left after a while, before Echo and Jesse decided to also call it a night, leaving her with just Fives. But she didn’t mind, she wanted to keep dancing with him and the feeling was reciprocated.

A song they both liked started playing and the two of them began singing along to the lyrics. I just want you to make a move/So slow down, sit down, it's new. Lexie took a step back and Fives grabbed her right hand, twirling her to the music. She let out a genuine laugh. She lifted her right hand, hooking her fingers under his chestplate at the base of his neck, and pulling him closer to her as she continued singing the lyrics of the song. You just told me, want me to fuck you/Baby, I will 'cause I really want to.

Fives’ eyes darkened and he turned her around, Lexie’s back now pressed on the hard plastoid of his chestplate. His hands came to rest on her hips, his grip strong, and she placed her right hand over his. She brought her left hand to the back of his head, gently pushing it down closer to her face.

“Wanna get out of here, mesh’la?”, Fives said in her ear, his lips grazing the skin as he spoke.

The song ended and Lexie stepped away from him, her heart thumping in her chest. All the alcohol she’d had tonight was starting to make Gemma’s suggestion sound like a really good idea. She’d not had sex in months and Fives was hot, and right there, and he wanted her, she could sense it. Without much thought she took his hand and pulled him towards the exit.

Back at the base, Fives walked Lexie back to her room. Despite all their flirting tonight, he didn’t actually believe anything would come of it. He did like her, he considered her a good friend and found it very enjoyable when they flirted or when they danced together, but she was a Jedi, he respected her and did not expect anything just because of some suggestive conversations they’d engaged in.

Once they got to her private room, Lexie opened the door and took a step in, turning to look at Fives who had stopped in the doorway. She took in his presence, his eye-catching new ARC trooper armor. Maker he looks good. He was leaning on the doorframe, his eyes, a little unfocused from the alcohol, roving down her body. Lexie felt a pressure building in her core. She shouldn’t do it, but the alcohol in her system had lowered all her inhibitions. Kriff it. She reached her hand, hooking her fingers around his belt and pulling him inside the room.

His hands were on her in an instant as he dove in to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. Lexie wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself close to him. Her left hand found itself in his hair, pulling gently at it, causing a low moan to escape from his lips into her mouth. The sound went straight to her core as she felt a tingle of pleasure sweeping over her body.

Fives deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance in Lexie’s mouth, which she gladly welcomed. His right hand travelled down from its place on her hip and grabbed her ass, as he took a few steps, pushing Lexie into her desk.

Lexie broke free from the kiss just for a few seconds in order to swiftly take off her blouse, throwing it behind her on the desk. Fives’ left hand came up to cup her breast over her bandeau top, kneading at the soft flesh. His lips returned to hers, then moved slowly across her jaw and down the side of her neck.

One of his legs slotted itself in between hers, drawing out a moan from Lexie’s lips as the plastoid pressed against her core. She instinctively rolled her hips into it again, chasing more of that pleasurable feeling. She felt Fives grin against her skin. She needed this, she needed the release from all the tension of the past few months.

“Take the armor off”, Lexie whispered in his ear.

“Are you sure?”, he asked in between kissing her neck.

“Yes… If you want to”, she said.

“Hell yeah!”, he exclaimed.

He grabbed a hold of her hips and took a few steps back, pulling her after him, before turning and pushing her on the bed. He started to hurriedly unclasp the upper part of his armor, discarding the pieces on the floor. Lexie shifted in bed in order to take off her shorts. The sight of her in just the bandeau top and underwear was too much. Fives stopped what he was doing and lunged at her, taking off her top and exposing her breasts. He caged her in on the bed, towering over her as he started hungrily kissing and licking her stiff nipples, eliciting a few whimpers out of her at the delightful sensation of his warm tongue.

“You’re so kriffing hot, Lex”, he said, lifting his head and allowing his eyes to proudly trail over the marks he had sucked on her chest.

Fives took off his gloves so he could properly feel her soft skin. Lexie tugged at the top of his blacks, stopping his attention to her breasts for just a moment so that he could assist her in taking it off. His mouth returned to her chest, trailing kisses and leaving small bites down her abdomen, his goatee slightly scratching her skin. He planted a sloppy kiss on her clit through the fabric of her lacy underwear, before moving it to the side so that he could lick a long stripe along her folds. Lexie let out a breathless moan.

Fives raised his head from between her legs and looked at her with lust-filled eyes. “You taste so good, mesh’la. I want you to sit on my face”, he said in a low tone of voice.

Lexie liked that idea and eagerly nodded. Fives pulled her underwear down her legs before hooking an arm around her back, lifting her up, and moving to take her place laid on his back on the mattress. She straddled his chest and kissed his neck, before moving up and hovering just above his face. Fives’ hands grabbed her ass, hurriedly lowering her wet pussy to his mouth. His tongue tentatively licked up and down her folds, eliciting a gasp from Lexie as she tried to brace herself on the wall in front of her. He let out a low moan as his tongue started circling her clit, causing her thighs to slightly clench around his head.

Fives’ tongue dragged around and over her clit a few times before moving it to circle her entrance and slipping it inside her. Her hips started to slowly move as he fucked her with his tongue, a warm, tingling sensation gradually raising in her body, and she moved one of her hands to tangle it in his hair. As he felt her getting closer he replaced his tongue with one, then two of his fingers, moving his lips back to her clit. A few more movements of his fingers, accompanied by him sucking and licking at her clit and Lexie arched her back as the orgasm washed over her, prompting a sigh to escape from her lips and coating his face with her release.

She got off of his face, turning and leaning against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Fives sat up, reached a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her lips into his, not giving her any respite. He was too worked up now, he needed more of her. Lexie moaned as she tasted herself on his lips, the fire inside her core reigniting. Her hands started exploring his chest, gliding over his toned muscles.

“You’re overdressed”, she breathed as her hands reached down and fumbled to unclasp his belt.

Fives chuckled and got up, quickly shedding his kama, the last of his armor and the lower part of his blacks. Lexie’s eyes went wide as she watched his hard cock spring free from the fabric. It was long and thick and she felt her core clench at the sight.

“Like what you see?”, he asked with a teasing grin.

“Very much”, she replied, meeting his eyes.

He got back on the bed and captured her mouth in another sloppy kiss. Lexie parted her lips, allowing his tongue to enter and twist around her own. One of his hands groped her breast, pinching her nipple between his fingers. His hands then moved to her waist and effortlessly turned her around. Lexie found herself on her hands and knees as Fives leaned over her and kissed the back of her neck.

He then shifted on the bed, moving behind her, and dragged the tip of his cock through her wet folds. Her breath hitched as she felt it catch at her entrance. Fives’ hands grabbed her hips as he slowly pressed himself inside of her. The stretch was a little painful at first, but the burning sensation was swiftly replaced by pleasure after he pulled out and slammed back into her a few time.

Lexie tightly shut her eyes, low moans escaping from her mouth. His pace grew quicker and his grip of her hips tightened. His unrelenting thrusts, paired with the haze of the alcohol were beginning to be too much, and Lexie lowered herself to her forearms. She burrowed her face into her pillow as Fives hit a spot deep inside of her that made cry out.

Fives wrapped her ponytail around his hand and pulled her head up from the pillow. “Oh no, mesh’la. I want to hear you scream”, he growled.

She followed his request and let out a loud moan that echoed through the room. Lexie started pushing back, meeting his punishing thrusts. Pressure was quickly building in her core and her walls clenched around his cock. Fives mumbled some curses under his breath and quickened the pace, his thrusts getting sloppy as he chased his release.

“Who knew you could be such a little slut?”, he said between grunts. Lexie’s walls clenched tighter around his cock at that remark. “Oh, you like that huh? You do, you like being called that. Well why don’t you act like a good little slut and cum all over my cock then, mesh’la?”, he continued in a low voice, pulling her ponytail harder.

A thought entered Lexie’s mind, one that she had been desperately trying to ignore. Rex had the same anatomy as Fives, this was exactly how he would feel inside of her. In this position, not being able to see the man who was fucking hard into her and only hearing the low grunts he would sometimes make, she could even pretend that it was the Captain behind her. That thought was the last thing she required. The pressure released and a wave of powerful bliss washed over her body. She let out a loud cry before her body melted into the mattress.

The sounds she made as she orgasmed were music to Fives’ ears. He only needed to thrust into her a couple more times before quickly pulling out and spilling his cum on her lower back. He fell to the side and rolled on his back as he tried to catch his breath. Lexie lowered her hips to the bed and turned her head to look at him. The strenuous activity they'd just engaged in had sobered them up a little, and, as they came down from their highs, realisation hit as to what they've done.

“Maker…”, Lexie groaned, hiding her face into her pillow.

Fives got up from the bed and went into the fresher, returning with a damp towel so that he could clean his release from Lexie’s back. She mumbled some thanks before Fives laid back on the bed, pulling her to his chest. They laid like that in silence for a few minutes, with him slowly stroking up and down her back, processing the turn of events that their night had taken.

“So… that was uhh…”, Fives started, sounding tired.

“A mistake?”, she continued.

“A really good one, though”, he offered with a chuckle.

Lexie let out a small laugh and brought a hand to her temples. “Ugh. I don’t even want to think about how many rules we just broke”.

“It sounded like you really enjoyed breaking them though”, he teased.

“Don’t get cocky. It was good, I’ll admit. But it can never happen again”, she said as sternly as she could, although the amusement was still clear in her voice.

“I know”, he assured her.

“And you cannot tell anyone. Please. I’m sure you’d love to brag that you managed to fuck the Jedi but-”

“Lex, come on”, he cut her off. “I wouldn’t speak about you like that”, he said, a little offended.

“I’m sorry. I…”, she said quietly.

“I actually care about you mesh’la, you’re one of my best friends. You do know that, right?”, Fives continued.

“I do now”, she replied half-jokingly.

Fives chuckled and shook his head before yawning. “And don’t worry. I wouldn’t have said anything anyway. Rex might actually kill me if he found out I slept with you”, he said, a trace of guilt present in his voice.

“Don’t exaggerate. Like, sure, he’d be disappointed you broke regulations, but I doubt he’d care that much”, Lexie said with a snort.

“It’s not because of regulations Lex, it’s because it’s you”, he replied weakly, half-asleep now.

“What do you mean?”, she asked, brows furrowing in confusion. There was no response. “Fives?”.

She tilted her head and saw that the ARC trooper had fallen asleep. She glanced at the digital clock on her desk. Maker it’s late. Lexie yawned, the alcohol catching up to her, and she settled more into his side. She could think more about it tomorrow but for now exhaustion was filling her mind and it pushed away the curious comment that Fives made.

[rex-meshla]

Hello there,

You might not know me yet, but if you're here, you probably love the Clones just as much as I do. I'm excited (and a little nervous!) to finally share my writing with all of you.

Shadows of the Force follows a slow-burn romance between a Jedi OC and a certain Captain that we all love and admire. The story builds with every quiet exchange, every heartbeat of tension. It may be slow, but trust me, it's worth sticking around.

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapters 4-6

Here's a little glimpse of the story:

Amidst the turmoil of the Clone Wars, Stella Cardone, an unexpected survivor from Earth, finds herself thrust into a galaxy far from anything she's ever known. Rescued by Anakin Skywalker and his loyal squad, she must navigate the brutal realities of war while uncovering her own hidden potential. But as bonds deepen on the battlefield, so does a forbidden connection with one of her closest allies-a brave soldier with secrets of his own. Together, they’ll face enemies seen and unseen, testing loyalties, courage, and the fragile line between duty and desire. In a galaxy shadowed by darkness, will love become her greatest strength… or her downfall?

*Disclaimer: this universe isn't strictly canon—because, honestly, f*ck Order 66 and Fives' death

I'll be updating twice a week on Wattpad, or more often when I can.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to comment or message me anytime x

[fandom-friday]

I already submitted 1 for this week, but some of my fav fics have had updates/new chapter drops in the past couple of weeks, so wanted to shout these out too:

Dominoes by @meridiansdominoes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864643/chapters/26789934

One of my fav fics ever, starring the original Domino squad… We’re off to UMBARA kids! *stressed AF*

In Command by @wild-karrde

https://www.tumblr.com/wild-karrde/702398234256195584/in-command-master-list?source=share

I’ve already screamed at you about it, but so excited to see the re-write of one of my fav fics progress! The emotion that shines through just gives me chills. And Senna is my stubborn and reckless spirit animal.

Walk Me Home by @cyarbika

This new chapter drop had me drooling. Spicy 🔥 Sassy and Sexy - my fav combo. Lemony lemon.

How Long Will it Take You to Slow Down by @saturn-sends-hugs

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44765179/chapters/112629625

Every new chapter drop in this series gives me anxiety because this series is deliciously whumpy. But Saturn writes Echo’s headspace in such an emotional way. He’s a PTSD loaded trainwreck I can’t look away from. I love him in every way! Love how Tech got some time to shine in this update,

Fools Errand by @staycalmandhugaclone

https://www.tumblr.com/staycalmandhugaclone/752401340394799104/fools-errand-pt-1

This is a new arc in Doc’s Misadventures, about a medic running with TBB. And listen - this might be the best arc yet. Stay Calm is the most descriptive writer and just sucks you right into the story. Her OC Doc has so much compassion for those around her, but is also a 100% certified badass and it’s just the best combo, honestly. I love her. And seeing her relationship grow and change with the boys has been amazing. Echo really gets time to shine in this story, which has been stellar. Heavy whump and spicy in some story arcs.

As always, thanks for all the things @fandom-friday !!

Multiple submissions are ALWAYS welcome! This is an absolutely fantastic list, and I am completely and totally honored to be included on it with so many outstanding writers! Thanks so much for putting this together and sending it in!

Link to Walk Me Home

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)