#rex x gender neutral reader

[bad-batch-pretty-boy]

Holly Fall-y Christmas - Captain Rex x gn!Reader

A/N: Oh my god I’m so nervous! This is my first Star Wars fic ever and I really hope it’s good! This is written for @toomanybandstocare for the 2024 Life Day fic gift exchange. I hope you like it!

I included your prompts (bolded in the fic) and kept it sfw. There is a kiss at the end, but it’s fluffy so I hope it’s still okay

Also tagging @cloneficgiftexchange for the event

Divider credits go to @/bernardsbendystraws

Okay, I think that’s it. I hope you enjoy the light angst, fluff, and cheesiness!

CW: some angst, mentions of injuries, friends to lovers, mentions of falling/the accident, Life Day nostalgia, Keldabe kisses, brief seriousness, ‘I love you’s, Rex calls the Reader cyare, kissing, getting together, probably ooc Rex

924 words

It was such a stupid thing, but here you were. Pacing outside a medbay, watching the snow fall through the window. What a way to spend Life Day.

Rex was currently being cared for. The medic had told you the exact procedure, but you hadn’t really been listening. Too busy watching them usher the still body of your friend away.

It was all your fault, really. You’d been the one to insist on the decorations and the cookies and the presents. With all you were doing, it was only a matter of time before one of you got hurt.

And it had to be Rex. Your friend. Your… friend. That’s all you were. Friends. Just two friends with no feelings whatsoever between them.

With a sigh, you take a seat to gaze out the window. It had scared you to death. Watching him slip and fall. The normally so stable Rex flounder back, hitting the floor with a sickening crack.

You’d panicked at the sight of blood, rushing to call the nearest medbay to warn them of your arrival. You were lucky there were still workers there, even so late into the night.

He’d lost consciousness just before arriving. The terror that had gripped you when his eyes fluttered shut had been like nothing you’d experienced before.

The snow dusts the ground. Turning the silvery ground into a blanket of white. You didn’t know the planet well. The snow had been a surprise to you both. You’d been planning on racing out into it; heading to some abandoned park to make snow creatures.

Your family had taken well to the Life Day traditions. You’d lived so many places as a child. Picking up small holiday traditions wherever you went. You’d been so excited to introduce Rex to them. To give him a taste of joy and celebration outside of a mission.

A small cough pulls you from your thoughts. You look up. One of the nurses is there, giving you a light smile. “He’s ready to see you.”

You follow her deeper into the building. To a little room, marked by a holo of his name. You push open the door, pausing at the sight.

Rex sits on a medbay bed, grumbling softly to himself. He looks fine, except for the bacta packs plastered to his head.

Still, you move forward. He looks up, his scowl changing to a soft look. You press your forehead to his, closing your eyes. He’s done this so many times for you; now it’s your turn to give him this instead.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gently catching your hands in his.

“I thought I lost you,” you whisper. “I thought you weren't going to make it. I thought you left me by myself.”

He stiffens and then softens. “I wouldn’t have left you. Not like this.”

You open your eyes, meeting his steady gaze. “I don't know if I could have forgiven you if you had.”

The moment is serious. Heavy and painful in so many ways. A few sentences from Rex lifts all that off your shoulders. “I doubt I would’ve forgiven myself. Going out from just a fall? My brothers would never let me live that down.”

You crack a smile, unable to hold back a laugh. “I love you.”

It slips out. So easily. So… right. But you freeze, instantly worried it’s too much.

Rex blinks. He seems to process your words for a moment before nodding. A slow grin spreading across his face. “You love me, huh?”

Your face warms. You look away. “Stop that. You know what I meant.”

“I think you meant exactly what you said.” Despite the teasing in his tone, you can see the light insecurity in his eyes.

It makes you soften. You give his hand a squeeze, taking a breath for courage. “Yeah. I did.”

“I… I love you too.” His voice is quiet, gentle with things said and unsaid.

You lean your forehead against his again. Just basking in the warmth of his words. He loves you. And you love him.

The nurse discharges Rex without any problems. You’re walking out when you notice the little plant bundle hanging from the ceiling in a corner of the lobby. You grin, knowing just how you’re gonna salvage this Life Day.

“Come here.” You tug Rex after you, hand held firmly in his. He follows, letting you lead him right where you want him.

“What are you planning, cyare?” He asks, giving you a merry but suspicious look.

“Look up.”

He does, eyes stopping on the small bundle of leaves and berries. Your grin widens.

“That’s called mistletoe,” you explain. “It’s good luck for couples to kiss under it.”

He’s still for a moment before looking at you. With that oh so soft look in his eyes. “Good luck?”

You nod and take a deep breath. Then you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He responds immediately, relaxing into the moment.

When you pull away, both your cheeks are flushed.

Rex’s eyes twinkle, his entire demeanor gentle with affection. “Are we a couple then? Wouldn’t want to give us bad luck and all.”

You snort, giving him a fond look. “Smooth. Real smooth.”

He just chuckles and pulls you into a hug. “I learned from the best.”

As you rest your head against him, you relax. Letting your thoughts drift to one thing.

Despite all that went on, you wouldn’t want to spend your Life Day with anyone else. Rex is perfect for you, clumsy falls included.

[sexlapis]

ᝰ.ᐟ read me to sleep (zhongli’s version)

── .✦ zhongli x gn!reader

s4w, fluff, reading, established relationship, petnames

. wc: 1k

a/n: i’m finally living up to my name who would’ve thought? anyway. i’m just so obsessed with the idea of someone (with a very sexy voice) reading to me and that’s why i’m made this fic with zhongli (& nanami). it was lowkey tricky figuring out what petnames zhongli would call his s/o but i know he would not say ‘baby’ or anything modern.

masterlists

*

He’s not in bed when you wake up.

You blink sluggishly, rubbing the matter and tiredness out of your eyes before you paw at Zhongli’s side of the bed.

It’s only a little bit lukewarm, meaning he left bed quite a while ago.

But to do what?

You recall completing your nightly ritual which included showering, brushing your teeth, washing your face and kissing Zhongli goodnight and falling into a light sleep.

The bedroom door is slightly agar and you decide to take initiative and find your partner yourself.

Sitting up, you unravel yourself from the warm, pleasant satin sheets, wrap yourself in your thin blanket and pad out of the bedroom door and into the hallway.

You wander down the hallway of you and Zhongli’s shared home. It is furnished with cabinets and drawers of the freshest, finest mahogany, the walls embellished with painting of ancient myths of dragons, goddesses and vast mountains, created with an utmost delicate hand, along with traditional, treasured Chinese ornaments and decor.

It is like everything Zhongli touched turned to gold.

You pass the bathroom, guest room and office on your short journey, and then you end up in front of the library.

Of course he would be here.

The library was Zhongli’s favourite room in the entire house. Though it was not exactly sizable, it was cosy and contained rare collections of books that could not ever be found elsewhere.

Amber and vermillion light flickered from the sill of the door emitting from the fireplace, signalling to you that the room was very much in use by Zhongli.

You twist the doorknob and peek in.

There, sitting on a leather armchair, is Zhongli, his reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and a book held within his hands. The lights from the fireplace dance across Zhongli’s skin and his long, ombré hair.

He seems so engrossed in his book, he doesn’t seem to notice you at first. Something like this, him not noticing you come in or hearing you whatsoever, would only occur in the comfort of your shared home, where he feels safe.

“Zhongli,” you quietly call out.

Zhongli’s head perks up, looking at you.

“Oh!” He says your name in surprise. “I was not aware that you had awoken! I did not wake you, did I?”

“No…not necessarily…” You rest your temple on the doorframe, pouting a little. “I got up and went looking for you ‘cause you weren’t in bed.”

“Oh, I see.” Zhongli rests his concern frown. “I had only wished to read some pages of the book I am reading. ‘Rex Incognito, Volume 2’.”

“Ooooo…” You tiptoe over to him, looking over his shoulder at the book, “and is it good?”

“Well,” he sighs, “the ideas are…very interesting.”

You laugh, knowing that that is Zhongli’s way of saying ‘the book is trash’.

“But, I suppose I should get some rest. Sleep is essential for me now, after all.”

…When has it never been essential?

You shrug off that comment and stop him from getting up from his seat. “No, it’s okay. You can keep reading, I just wanna be here too.”

“Oh…well then…” Zhongli starts, then he realises you are blatantly eyeing his lap and he hums, a smile appearing on his lips. He spreads his legs a few inches, patting his thigh, “Come here.”

You practically hop into his lap like a bunny, causing him to laugh so wholeheartedly at your eagerness. The blanket around your shoulders now lay across your legs, and you nuzzle your head into his neck.

“Comfortable?” He asks.

“Yes…” You pause for a few moments, “Zhongli, I want you to read to me.”

“Hm? Do you? This book or another? This book is not exactly thrilling…”

“Yes, Zhongli,” you place your hand over his one, gently stopping him from moving, “I wanna hear you read this one.”

Zhongli’s warm eyes crinkle as he smiles at you, a tender look on his face. “As you wish.”

His body is hard. Solid. Like a rock. It makes you feel safe, steady and protected, guarded in his arms and his grand house like a dragon shielding his precious, beloved jewels.

Zhongli reads. His voice is rich, dulcet, sapid. It is so gentle yet so strong, like the thick stalk of bark and tree, sturdy and stable, yet smooth, like pouring a red wine into a delicate glass.

His voice flows through your body. With your ear pressed near his chest, you revel in the low rumble of his speech, the undeviating beating of his heart, and the bodily warmth that radiates from him.

All of this, along with the cosy ambience and the crackling of the fire has you on a journey to your perfect slumber.

“Does my reading bore you, dearest?”

Your eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. “Huh? No! Keep reading!”

“I jest, I jest.” Zhongli chuckles and you flick his arm. “Try to stay awake. The best part is coming soon.”

“Okay…”

You try to pry your eyes open with willpower alone, the sleepiness causing them to droop every few moments. Your heart wants you to stay awake so bad, to please Zhongli, but your body says ‘sleep, sleep, sleep’ and you have no choice but to obey.

“Zhongli,” you murmur with drowsiness, “Zhongli, ‘m gonna fall ‘sleep…”

He hums. “I know, my love. Please, sleep. I will continue reading to you until you are having the sweetest of dreams.” Zhongli rests his head on to of yours.

You are just so sweet in his eyes.

You grumble.

And then, slowly but surely, you are fading away into a deep, endless sleep, with Zhongli's melodious voice being your lullaby.

“‘And’-Ah.” Zhongli stops his reading when he realises you are fast asleep, you breath even and snores quiet. “Alright then,” he places a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

*

Upon your awakening, Zhongli is gone again, most likely to perform his daily work duties.

But not before leaving you a traditional breakfast, cooked perfectly to the minute, along with a small note written in cursive penmanship, that reads:

Good morning, beloved,

I apologise for leaving so early, duty calls I’m afraid.

I hope you enjoy the breakfast I prepared. It is healthy and good for the start of the day.

Luckily, my duties will be complete at an earlier time. Perhaps we can have a satisfactory dinner and then have a relaxing night in?

No boresome books this time around.

Yours,

Zhongli

*

a/n: i tried to write him in character but i think i did too much lmao.

[watatsumiis]

On The Topic of Dragon Hoards...

Zhongli, no matter how convincingly he may wear his human disguise, is and always has been a dragon at heart.

And he, like most dragons, has a tendency to hoard things.

It's easy not to notice right away, since he tends to keep his belongings tucked away, but once you take note, it's hard to stop seeing them.

Primarily, it's sentimental items, things that have been made for him or gifted to him by those he loves, but once you two have been together a while, you notice that he is definitely giving your gifts preferential treatment.

If you were to look carefully, you'd notice that he's carefully preserved everything you've given him, from letters to meaningless little trinkets, even a scrap piece of paper you drew a diagram on to help get a point across over lunch.

A dragon will hoard things that they deem to be precious and valuable - in this case, the items are all extraordinarily memorable to Zhongli, tied in with the stories of those he cares about. Over time, he adds more and more items relating to you, it's a little sweet, really.

However, if you were to ask Zhongli what the most valuable item in his hoard is, he'll give you a warm, fanged smile and say something along the lines of "Why, it's you, of course, my dear."

[momojedi]

Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??

JUST MARRIED PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” #97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”

GENRE: Fluff WARNING: none A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!

MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

"Mhi solus tome,

Mhi solus dar’tome.

Mhi me’dinui an,

Mhi ba’juri verde."

Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.

Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...

Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.

When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.

Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.

"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.

The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."

The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes. "Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?" "I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it. "I..." "Yes?" "Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."

...

"WHAT?"

"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us? "You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.

Force, this man is captivating.

Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.

"R-rex, are you suggesting...?" "[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"

I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze. "I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,

Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“So, about that wedding night…”

[randomhealer]

Zhongli loves having you on his lap whenever he's listening to stories or drinking tea, always putting an arm around your waist as he pulls you closer to him and of course on the table there will be a variety of food just for you that he paid (in the name of the funeral home and with a loan from the bank) He won't touch anything on the table just his tea but feel free to feed him if you want, he will smile slightly as you place the spoon near his mouth.

Zhongli also loves hearing your opinion on the stories about rex lapis whether it's positive negative or just you saying about how rex ​​lapis was exaggerated at some point he loves hearing your opinion, he also loves talking about old things and always smiles when you ask him something about it.

And always when it's all over, he puts both arms around your waist and lightly whispers a 'Was the food to your liking darling?' giving you a light and quick kiss on the cheek.

[yourlocalstranger123]

—PRAYER—

Version 1

Version 2 [you're here]

Warning: SFW/slight NSFW

As the Creator and God, you can clearly hear every prayer for you. You even hear some gods pray to you, too. Although you've had some...certain prayers said to your name...

Morax/rex-lapis praying to support him in wars and etc. Morax/rex-lapis under a tree, trying to get friction, resisting the urge to close his legs as he palms his bulge while chanting your name. Zhongli, on his knees. Praying that Liyue will be safe and protected by your blessings. Zhongli on his bed, twitching, saying prayers to do things to him, asking for forgiveness, saying that he deserves your punishments for being so shameful. Edging himself since you would've done that to him as a punishment.

Childe, praying for power and strength and to protect his family. [Might also pray for bloodshed-] Childe, leaning against the wall, biting his lips to refrain noises and kept saying your name over and over. Head thrown back as he came.

[That's all I have for now, so please down hunt me down and hurt me 🥲😅]

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

(hi thank you for being understanding about my question and being cool with doing this!) can I ask for headcanons for somethin like movie night with the 501st? Gender neutral reader is fine

Of course babes. 🩷 We can do movie night any night with the 501st!

Warnings and Information: There’s nothing to do in the barracks tonight, and it’s been a long time since anyone’s seen a good movie. So, throw in like fifteen packets of popcorn in the microwave (one at a time, Hardcase) to get this popcorn poppin’, because the 501st + one good friend is having a movie night! (Once mostly everyone agrees on what to watch, of course…) Blankets, pillows, snacks, and cozy Clone cuddle-piles galore~ Who’s falling asleep first? 😴 2nd person POV with an undescribed reader who has a gender neutral nickname. Bullet point format. We’ll use a little Mando’a, as a treat. Fluff and good feelings all around. Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s safe. 💙

Word count: 1,652

The previews

There’s no paperwork to do, there’s no assignment they need to ship out for in the morning, and they’ve gone ahead and tidied up the bed racks for good measure. They could play some Sabbac to kill the time, but they’ve either lost or misplaced more than half the deck, and they don’t feel like the lights and thumping bass of the local drinking hole tonight. (It’s just not quite the same as 79’s…) Nobody really has the energy to do much of anything, but given their purpose and training as soldiers, they don’t often have nights like this where they simply do… nothing. Being idle leaves a gnawing feeling of discomfort for many in the 501st, so they’re trying to come up with a plan.

“Uh-oh. Hardcase has his thinking face on.” someone mumbles, growing slightly uneasy. 

“I got it. I’m gonna call someone.” Hardcase declares, punching in one of his favorite contacts on the comlink. This makes the ARC troopers slightly nervous. “Not the Captain, I hope-” Fives chimes in warningly. “With any luck he’s just gone to the mess.”

Hardcase shakes his head, grinning broadly before he punches ENTER on the device. “Nah, I’m not calling the Captain right now, I’m callin’ Ember!”

You’re a favorite of the 501st. At least, that’s your theory. 

And through one series of events after the other, you've become well acquainted with them and their antics.

Why else would you possibly need to be commed in the middle of a meal? “Don’t answer that.” Captain Rex advises you. You both barely started eating. It’s not an emergency tone. It can wait. But… maybe you should see who it is, first? “Umm… Hardcase is calling me.” you reply. That means one of two likely scenarios.

Boredom, or trouble.

Specifically future trouble.

(Or he’s in trouble.)

You’re at least going to see how urgently you need to scarf down your meal so the Captain has time to enjoy his for once in three blue moons. “Hello? What's going on Hardcase?” 

“Hey little flame, you wanna do something tonight? We’re bored!”

“Define bored…” You’re gonna regret asking that, you’re sure. “And who’s “we” exactly, Hardcase? How many others are listening?” The jumbled cacophony of names and voices tells you it’s mostly Torrent Company, which you pretty much expected. “... hi Echo and Fives… hello Dogma … hey there Tup, I’m doing okay, thanks… yup, just trying to eat a little dinner, Kix…” 

So why exactly did he call you, you ask Hardcase, exchanging wary glances with the cobalt captain. What's going on? "Do you know where we can find a lot of popcorn for a movie night? You and the Captain are invited too of course, little flame!"

Grab your snacks…

The bunkroom has been torn apart by the time you and Captain Rex make your way in from the mess hall, and it smells better than you imagined for military sleeping quarters. Lots of beds are missing mattresses, bedding, and pillows. Except for Dogma's. His is untouched, saved for a slight rumple in the sheets. "Boys, we're here! … Where'd all the stuff go?" You step further into the room, and find all the missing mattresses laid side-by-side on the floor near one end of the room, where everyone's either currently wrangling with the holo-projector, or taking down a few posters from the wall to clear the space that will serve as your "screen". Tup spots the pair of you first. "Oh, good. Captain and Ember are here!" 

Hardcase is grateful that you found some popcorn for movie night, and that you could come join in for the fun. "There ya are, burc'ya! Just in time to start deciding on a movie!" He offers to get a jump on getting all the popcorn bags popped too, with the promise it's not going to be like last time. Trying to pop more than one bag resulted in a small fire, last time, evidently. 

Jesse and Kix are scouring over the descent film selection together, sorting them by type or genre. Action. Horror. Family-oriented. There's- how'd this kids movie end up in here? Eh, no thanks on the war films, we see enough of that. "What about a comedy?" you suggest, rifling through the stack to see what your pickings are there. There's a couple you do and don't recognize, and some that are tied to fond memories from before the war. "This is a good one, I think most of you guys will like it. I used to watch this a lot whenever I needed a good laugh, or some cheering up." 

Everyone agrees to give it a shot at least if that's what you recommend. In any case, it'll be difficult to get everyone to agree on one holo, and more than half of men squeezed around you on this giant raft of mattresses, blankets and pillows will probably fall asleep partway through it anyhow. 

… and enjoy the show!

"C'mon Dogma, come join us!" you urge with a friendly smile, seeing him return to his neatly-made bunk. "There's plenty of room, I'm sure." Tup and Hardcase, slightly sprawled next to you on your left, would need to move a bit to make it happen. Echo and Fives are sitting nearest the projector, their shoulders brushing against one another with every little movement. Jesse has positioned himself nearest the Captain, who is also beside you on your right. "It's okay if you don't, either. Nobody's gonna force you." you add pointedly, just as you feel someone start to pull his legs under him to go drag his brother into the tangle of limbs and bedding. Maybe he's more comfortable on his bunk. Or perhaps he's not interested in a film right now.

The lights are dimmed, the snacks are passed around, and the film begins. 

You only make it fifteen minutes into the film before there's a casualty: Kix, diligent man that he is to make sure all his brothers are taken care of, falls asleep behind you. "Psst! Kix, can you pass me the- oh nevermind. Ember, could you grab the candy under his arm before it melts?" You carefully wiggle it free and pass it up to Jesse before tucking a loose blanket kicking around over Kix. Generally, once Kix is out, he's out, so the group doesn't have to worry about waking him for a while. 

Hardcase stays surprisingly still through most of the movie so long as he keeps his hands mostly occupied in some capacity, or has one of his brothers leaning on him in some way. He's a very tactile person, so it's no surprise that he's slowly migrating around the raft of mattresses as each of his brothers either allow Hardcase to fiddle around with stuff he finds in their pockets, or just hold him close in a brotherly embrace for a bit if he's getting too disruptive. (He eventually settles down around the midpoint of the movie, and is one of the few who stays awake through the whole thing.)

Tup pays attention to most of the comedy film, occasionally conversing in whispers with Fives and Echo about their opinions on the jokes until Echo nods off for a bit, and the hushed conversation continues back up again when he wakes up before movie's end. It's Jesse who's not paying much attention to the film, but he's not too disruptive. Jesse almost makes it to the end of the movie before he falls asleep in the middle of scrolling through something on a datapad that's made its way into the nest of pillows and blankets and limbs, his head resting on Captain Rex's knee. 

Dogma does eventually join everyone on the floor. You suspect he was starting to feel a little left out, or maybe he changed his mind about the offer you made earlier, growing bored of whatever he'd been reading on his datapad, or deciding he'd give the movie a try. He tentatively makes his way over, and asks if he can still sit by you. "Of course, Dogma. Here, I saved some popcorn for you!" You give him the rest of the bowl you'd set aside for him, unable to get up and give it to him yourself since you've got multiple people surrounding you. (You didn't want Dogma to miss out on the snacks just because he wasn't initially watching the movie with everyone.) "Thanks for saving me some, Ember." Captain Rex reaches behind you and gives Dogma a warm pat on the shoulder. "Glad you joined us, brother." There's an unspoken finally in his words, but he's just glad to see that Dogma didn't end up isolating himself for long. 

You and Captain Rex, being firmly in the middle of the mattress pile, end up being the ones who become the human pillows of the group. It's nice to see all your friends having fun tonight, and be a part of enjoying a movie together. No stiff, uncomfortable armor; everyone's either in their fatigues or their blacks, and draped over and across their friends and brothers. Everyone is content and full of maybe a little too much popcorn and other snacks. You'll have a heck of a mess on your hands to clean up, either in the morning, or when everyone returns their respective mattresses to their bunks tonight, too.

Nights like this are how it should be. Everyone's happy and there are signs of trust everywhere you look. Brothers let their sleeping siblings rest on their shoulders, against their backs, their legs, or under their arms without complaint. There are sleepy smiles and shared blankets. Those who stayed awake until the end are now joking happily with one another and their Captain, and you too. 

And for a moment, in this night that will become a cherished memory no matter which way this war winds up, everyone you care about is safe. 

And what could be better than that?

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[peanutbutterandfailure]

MoraxXGN!Reader-"Betrothed"

With quivering steps, you nervously walk across Yiyan Temple with your offering. Your eyes are focused intently on the path in front of you. You tell yourself that it’s so you don’t spill the contents of your offering, but in reality it’s because you’re too afraid to meet the golden gaze of the Prime Adeptus. A gaze that you could feel on you since you took your first step into the temple plaza. From your peripherals, you can see the large Illuminated Beast sitting languidly on the overlook across from the temple entrance. You carefully ascend the steps of the dais and kneel with your offering beside the incense burner. Sitting the pot down, you lean forward in a seated bow as you speak. “Great Warrior God, please accept the offering I present to you as I seek your favor as a suitor.”

“What have you brought me, young one?” The Archons voice rumbles as he leaves the overlook and joins you on the dais. For as mighty as his body is, his footfalls create no sound.

Your eyes quickly scan the offerings that were left by the other suitors. Luxurious fabrics, elegant silks, gold statues, and piles of mora litter the dais. Next to them, your family’s best and largest soup crock looks dull and shabby. Removing the lid of the crock, you fill your voice with false confidence as you explain your offering. “My Lord, I offer you a soup made from the ham of a boar carefully raised by my family, wild game expertly hunted by my father, and bamboo shoots that I harvested myself. All of this has been prepared by myself and simmered for several hours in this crock, which was hand made by my great-grandmother.”  

The great being dips his head, and from your bowed position you watch as his snout lowers into view and he sniffs the contents of the crock. Humming in what sounds like approval, he returns to his full height and asks "You are the last suitor to see me?"

"Yes, my Lord." You answer him as you replace the lid on the pot.

"Then I will be sure to enjoy your offering as soon as we're finished." He tells you.

Finished? What more am I to do than present him with my offering and leave? You wonder, your stomach twisting itself into nervous knots. The matchmaker in charge of preparing the suitors didn't mention anything beyond the offering. You didn't know what to do so you continued to sit in silence, bowing before the Archon. Your heart was thundering so loud in your chest you were sure he could hear it.

"Do you fear me, young one? He finally asks you.

"Are we not supposed to fear our Gods?" You ask in return, earning a chuckle from him.

"I would prefer my partner to not fear me." Before his words can register, you feel a large talon under your chin. "Look at me," he says softly, gently lifting your gaze to meet his.

Your entire field of vision is completely obstructed by the large dragon in front of you. Scales the color of earth and eyes the same golden shade of the sun, you don't think you've ever seen anything as magnificent as him. He hums once again, and this time you're sure it's a sound of happiness. Before you even realize what you're doing, your hand is reaching up to touch his face. You freeze the moment you come to your senses, how bold of you to assume that you can touch the Archon, but he shocks you by leaning down and pressing his face into your palm. The energy and power you can feel radiating off of him is incredible, intoxicating. Being this close to him makes you lightheaded and breathless.

Closing your eyes, you bring your other hand up to his face, caressing it as you press your forehead against him. You can't seem to stop yourself from slowly wrapping your arms around his snout. You sit there for Celestia knows how long, in the closest thing you could call an embrace with a dragon. Time has no meaning, the world outside of the temple grounds has no meaning. All you know is the feeling of his scales against your cheek and the heat on your abdomen and thighs as his breath hits them.

Eventually, much to your dismay, he gently pulls away from you. "You should go, young one. Our time must come to an end for now. Besides, I would prefer to enjoy your delicious offering while it is still warm."

Your head spins at the lack of his touch. For a moment, you don't even remember where you are or what you were doing. All thoughts of offerings and ceremonies had left your mind. As you struggled to regain your composure, you bowed once more to him. "Y-yes, my Lord. I hope you enjoy the so- I mean, the offering." You hear him chuckle as you take your leave, the feeling of his golden gaze never leaving you.

A week hadn't even passed when your parents received the news that Morax had chosen you as his partner. Your father attributed the wild game he had hunted to being detrimental to the Archons decision, whereas your mother decided that it was the beautiful grey hanfu she had made for you to wear that swayed his choice. You didn't tell them that you believed that his decision was made during the embrace you shared, when his eyes were closed to your clothes and before he had tasted the soup. The more you thought about the interaction afterwards, the more confident you were in the idea that he had chosen you for his own in that moment.

Time passes by in a blur as your family prepares for your marriage to the Lord of Geo. Betrothal ceremonies and Adepti rituals come and go. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity later, the day of the wedding arrives. You stare at your reflection in the mirror of the vanity as your mother adds the finishing touches to your look. Your red fengguan xiapei is covered in gold embroidery resembling a phoenix, the perfect counterbalance to the dragon you were to wed.

Speaking of Morax, you hadn't seen your betrothed in several weeks. As your mother flitted amongst the helpers, making sure everything was perfect, your mind wandered to him. You wondered what he had been doing since you last saw him, and if he was as nervous as you were right now. Surely Archons get nervous too, you thought. Why wouldn't they if they have all other emotions? Your inner musing about the emotions of Gods was cut short when your mother stepped into view. Smiling at you, she gently cups your face in her hands. "Oh my darling child, you look magnificent." Tears spill from her eyes and roll down her smiling cheeks.

As the helpers slip out of the room to give you privacy, your father steps in, beaming at you. He seems to be at a loss for words, all he can do is walk across the room and pull you and your mother into a warm hug. "We are so proud of you," he says with a quavering voice. You take deep and even breaths as you hold your parents close for possibly the last time. When you had been selected as a potential suitor, the matchmaker had explained to your parents that to wed the Archon meant that you would be taken to his home in Jueyun Karst and they may never see you again. They were assured that they would receive a handsome dowry should you be chosen, but you knew that neither the dowry nor the honor that came from being the betrotheds parents could compare to your happiness.

You pull away from your parents and take their hands in yours, blinking fast to keep the tears at bay. "I'll write every week." You promise, bringing their hands to your lips and kissing them. "I love you both so much."

"And we love you," they reply, pulling you back into a hug.

The ceremony was more extravagant and festive than you were expecting. You had imagined it to be somber with prim and stuffy rituals, much like the Adepti rituals, however it was lively and exciting, with a banquet to celebrate the union between the Archon and his partner. The day was full of firecrackers and dancing, food and drinks, and it wasn't until Moon Carver announced that it was time for the newlyweds to retire for the night that you realized how tired you were. You wanted to go home, to your new home, with your husband and relax.

Morax walked over and knelt down beside you. "Hold on to my neck." He instructed, and you instantly obeyed, wrapping your arms around him. You felt a rush of power and in a flash of golden light, the banquet was gone. You blinked stars from your eyes as the light faded and you found yourself in a luxurious bed chamber beautifully decorated with gilded furniture. You step away from Morax, looking around the room in awe, never have you been in a dwelling that was so beautiful. You couldn't imagine what the rest of your new home would look like.

You felt more than heard Morax move behind you, so you turned to face him. He had taken a few steps back away from you, and before you could ask what he was doing he said "Don't be frightened." Confused, you watch as the same golden light as before emanates from his body. You bring a hand up to shield your eyes until the light starts to dim. When you drop your hand, you let out of gasp of shock. Where a dragon once stood is now a man clothed in a black and white hooded cloak. With golden eyes, long brown hair, and a shirt that was almost too tight, he was easily the most attractive man you've ever seen.

With shaking legs, you walk backwards until you feel a piece of furniture behind you and gently sit down. With raised hands and concern on his face, Morax asks "Are you scared?"

You shake your head. "Shocked would be a more accurate description." You say with a laugh.

He smiles and lowers his hands as he walks over and kneels before you. "Why does this form shock you?" He asks you. "Surely you know that Adepti can alter their appearance."

"I do. I guess I just figured you preferred your Illuminated Beast form over that of a human." You explain.

"I have no preference in form, I just use the Dragon form for public appearances since it's imposing." He laughs and gently takes your hand in his. Feeling skin against yours instead of scales is odd, but you can still feel the intoxicating power that draws you close to him. "Besides, if I were to not use my human form, how else would we consummate our marriage?" he asks as he raises your hand to his lips.

A embarrassed blush climbs up your neck and to your cheeks, causing your whole body to flush in its heat. "I, uh… I didn't really think much about that…" Which was the truth, the most thought you had given it was just assuming your marriage to the dragon would be romantic but asexual.

"Do you not want to?" He asks as he runs his thumb back and forth across your knuckles. "I will wait if you're uncomfortable."

You stare down at your joined hands as you think. You hadn't expected to be intimate with Morax, since you had only known him for his beast form. But now, with his human form kneeling in front of you, you found yourself excited at the idea. "No, I want to." You tell him, your voice firm and sure. Smiling, he stands and pulls you up with him. Your bodies press together as he embraces you.

Holding your body close to his, you feel his chest rumble and his breath tickle your ear as he sighs "It's been so long since I've been able to hold you in my arms."

You chuckle when he says this. "I believe I've been the only one with arms capable of holding until just now, so this is the first time you've ever held me."

"Maybe in this lifetime of yours, yes. But I've held you many, many times before this." He pressed a finger under your chin and lifted so you met his gaze. "Can't you feel it every time we touch? The bond that connects the two of us?" As he speaks, his hand moves to cup your cheek and his eyes travel your face, drinking up every detail.

"I just assumed what I was feeling was your power." You tell him as you stare into his hypnotic eyes. You could tell now that what you felt around Morax was not the power radiating from him, it was a magnetic force drawing the two of you together. You could feel it burning your skin every place your bodies touched.

He shakes his head. "No, it's our bond." His hand slides from your face back to tangle in your hair as he draws closer to you. He stops just shy of your lips so he can ask "May I?"

He hasn't done anything more than embrace you, but you're already breathless with anticipation. "Yes." You breath. His lips press against yours quickly, and he wastes no time nibbling on your bottom lip. You open your mouth to him, your tongues meeting as he deepens the kiss. Your hands slide up his strong arms and across his broad shoulders so you can push the hood of his cloak down. Gently, you run your hands across his soft hair, causing a shiver to run through his body. As your hands continue to explore, his arms tighten around you. Finally he breaks the kiss and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You let your head tip back as you pant, struggling to catch your breath.

You barely have your breathing evened out before he’s walking you backwards towards the bed. You feel the softness of the mattress against the back of your legs seconds before he pushes you down onto it and crawls on top of you. Your breath hitches and speeds up again as he begins to nibble on your neck, sharp teeth against sensitive skin. His hands move swiftly and confidently as he starts removing your clothes with ease and grace. Your own hands roam his body, trying to find where one piece of his outfit ends and the other begins. You cry out in frustration, causing him to pull back, laughing.

“Let me help, young one.” He says as he sensually shows you how easy it is to remove his clothing.

You lay on the bed, completely bared to him. You should feel shy, but you don’t. The look on his face gives you all the confidence in the world. He kneels above you, looking down with a small smile on his lips and the faint glimmer of tears in his eyes. “I’ve missed you so much,” he manages to choke out, causing your heart to swell and shatter.

Sitting up slightly, you grab him gently and pull him down against you. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.” You say. You don’t know the details of your apparent past lives, but it’s evident that each time he loses you, Morax is devastated. His mouth roughly reclaims yours as his hands grip your bare hips. Your bodies tangle together as your passion for each other grows. Hands and lips exploring bare skin and sensitive areas, small moans and gasps leaving both of you.

When he can tell you’re ready for him, he brings his mouth to your ear and growls in a husky voice “I apologize if I’m rough with you, it has been a long time and I’m not sure if I can control myself.”

The next morning when you wake your body is sore, your voice is raspy, and your throat is raw. You're cushioned by the softest pillows and the silkiest sheets as your eyes open and you're once again struck by the beautifully decorated bed chamber, now littered with your clothes. Hanging beside the bed is a golden silk robe and you can see a still steaming cup of tea on the bedside table. Gingerly sitting up, you gratefully drink the tea to ease the scratching in your throat. You sit the cup back down before slowly standing up, being gentle to your poor ravaged body. Wrapping the robe around yourself, you slowly make your way from the bedchamber and into the rest of the house.

Every room you you pass is as immaculately decorated as the last, leaving you in a constant state of awe. You walk past an open door and can see Morax walking through a beautifully landscaped courtyard. You step out onto the small porch and watch your husband until he looks up and notices you. The smile that lites up his face is radiant and pure as he comes to you and gently sweeps you into his arms.

"Good morning, my beloved." He murmurs in your ear as he holds you close. "I trust you slept well?"

"I did, but that's not surprising after everything you put me through last night." You say with a mischievous smile.

He laughs, his shoulders shaking. "I don't believe I heard you complaining." He retorts.

"And you never will." You gently kiss his lips. He hums softly and holds you close to him as he kisses you back. You're so happy you get to spend the rest of your life with your dragon, your Archon, your husband.

Here's some self-indulgent headcannons:

Morax, being the coldblooded dragon he is, is constantly snuggling up to you to keep warm. Doesn't matter what time of year it is, he wants to cuddle you. You're his favorite heat source.

He constantly lets you go to visit your family, and even accompanies you on occasion. Your mother and grandmother are smitten with his human form and are constantly looking for excuses to touch his arms or his chest.

When you're cooking, he tries to help, but he tends to mostly get in the way. You don't get angry with him, because you find it adorable how flustered the mighty Warrior God gets when you constantly have to move him off to the side.

If the two of you decide to become parents (either through adoption or typical/magical conception), he is a nervous wreck the first time he holds your child. They're so small and fragile, and he's terrified he's going to hurt them. But you stand behind him with your hands on his shoulders, reassuring him that he's not only the Groundbreaker Archon, but also a loving and compassionate father.

He likes to take you on walks to all of his favorite places in the region, especially to show you areas where the two of you share history. Those are the places where he stops to hold you close, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms once again.

Once he loses you, he has Seers that constantly scry and read the stars to figure out when you'll be reincarnated. They're not able to tell him exactly who you'll be, but they know when you'll be old enough for him to begin looking for a suitor. Sometimes he has to wait for several rounds of suitors to approach him, but he never takes a partner unless it's you.

[ourolite2]

ᨳິ petites idées!　　sfw & suggestive black chongyun.　reader gender unspecified, slight physical teasing. also, bahamian slang was used which i hope was applied properly bcs i am not bahamian LMAO. please do correct any with accuracy if i'm wrong! ༄

•　 chongyun is from the CARIBBEAN. he is BAHAMIAN. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! therefore i'm certain he knows variations of creole spoken in the bahamas, such as bahamian creole and haitian creole. however, his accent and his usage of the language grow in prominence when he code switches specifically. otherwise, his accent is subtle and only heightens when excited or uses an expression. nigga stepped back in surprise and went "mudda sick!"

•　 side note, chongyun also prefers oils like peppermint and eucalyptus because of their heat-defying properties. get too close and you’ll have a breath of fresh air from anywhere above his neck with the slightest whiff. i’d argue that this adds onto his natural scent and repels demonic energy from him, making his duties as an exorcist nothing but effortless.

•　 this is not only my theory but neso’s as well, that high temperatures of weather provoke unbridled frustration, while a high degree in spice provokes his code switch into a more slang-embedded and chatty persona, regardless of the emotion with this linguistic swap. high temperatures in the aspect of becoming overly flustered or anxious would result in stereotypical lightskin ass behavior. symptoms include smooth and failed rizz, leaning against a nearby wall, nodding upward in a 'sup' motion with a sweet smile, and other laughter-bellyache inducing antics.

•　 under the same subject, arousal can also cause certain emotions since.. other parts would become more heated than anticipated. this does not result in smooth behavior, but rather improper use of slang and a few mumbles of "goddamn" or "gyat" to himself. he is not smooth, he's adorable! uh-- well... unless it's hot outside while such occurs. then he'd come off more embarrassed with an attitude due to his ineptness to hold eye contact, in addition to how much he's stuttering and fidgeting in your presence. hm... this is still pretty cute tho, isn't it?

•　 y'know, there's so much black cuisine beyond soul food, but to start off with such chongyun's favorite sides would be potato salad, banana pudding, and deviled eggs because they're delectably served cold of course. as for other types of black cuisine, specifically bahamian or just caribbean, he likes conch salad, johnny cake with some vanilla icecream, crab rice served at room temperature, and despite his sensitivity to heat, chongyun can certainly exalt freshly made plantain fufu with various kinds of soups. also, if his environment is colder his emotions are less chirpy, allowing him to prefer being more composed and chill (pun intended), therefore warmer foods become considerably more tolerable for his yang energy to handle.

•　 you uh.. you guys know how he has those calming herbs in his popsicles for his yang energy? well.... what if he smoked those herbs to calm down? y'know how he doesn't come off aggressively and he's a chill sweetie? well.. imagine he's miffed and just reaches for one of his joints...

•　 okay, okay. let me close off by saying i looooove the pretty blue theme for chongyun's character, especially in his natural features, meaning his hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. his clothes matching is just a perfect plus. he'd have three strand twists done in his hair as his day-to-day style as well as his favorite style. the contrast of light blue to his gingerbread cheeks and tawny forehead is so eye-catching, radiating soft, approachable energy. assuming xinqiu is also black here, he definitely re-twists chongyun's hair for him sometimes; this is because doing it himself can make chongyun too hot, since wash days are a workout and a half. he'll have to constantly take a popsicle break til' he runs himself dry. if not xinqiu, however, y/n can lend a comb and a few hours, right?

꒰꒰　　Fifteen minutes after washing and conditioning the lapis exorcist's head of hair, Y/n was confined to numbing their body by sitting in the same position as they moisturized his detangled spirals and corkscrew curls from the ends up. T'was doubtless that the young man was unfazed and emotionally pacified by the massage of cold-pressed cream and peppermint oil to his scalp and ends. Chongyun sighed in delight behind closed, mocha lips, ever appreciative to have someone so amply amiable to assist him with this monthly test of his sanity. "Dunno how I'd do this without you, Y/n. I admire your skill and precision, ‘cause Lapis knows I physically can't fuc-.. can't function..."

Y/n peered from behind him with a velvet grin, taking pride in being so adored for their charitableness. Even so, they were rather rushed and absentminded in their pursuit to deliver succor before Chongyun blew a fuse on his own, so they had no medicinal popsicles on hand to subdue his yang energy's lingering emotional outburst.

Thus, Y/n hummed patiently in response to his subtle agitation layered in clouds of gratitude. "Hmm? No, no, your skill and precision out-rival mine in many things, baby blue. You're an exceptional exorcist for one, aren't you?"

Y/n's words were warmhearted enough, in fact, to cause a drought upon any venom brooding beneath his furrowed expression. Continuing massaging his scalp with the eucalyptus now coating their fingertips earned them another exhale of relief from the miffed munchkin. Alas, this relief was faulty and short-lived, unlike the addictively euphonious voice beginning to toy with his muddled mind.

Y/n leaned further down so that their chest was pressed to the back of Chongyun's head, followed by tilting his head back enough to face them. They endowed a silken kiss to his now ever-more baked forehead, leaving one hand to caress the front of his neck and the other to hold onto his lower cheek and chin. With how his eyes could only widen in a failed quip, his plump lips parting and spreading into a naturally flustered smile, you'd think he must feel heavenly against Y/n's spread thighs. However, the opposite was evident, as his body's temperature began to rise and only increased with Y/n's giggles in response to his adorable reaction.

'Poor cute little thing.' Y/n mused, with their widened lips stuck in that gorgeous upturned setting. Their hand placement was all the more amusing (to them at least) as Chongyun breathed out an incoherent 'damn' under their touch, denying himself any further vulgarities as they continued kneading their fingers onto him and trailing their nails across his sensitive skin, goosebumps present and halfway-completed hair neglected.

"Don't start with your failed, flirty antics on me either, baby blue.. Just enjoy me like this, I'll fix your head momentarily."　　꒱꒱

⑅ leman productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

[echothefandomeater]

Would you be able to do a Captian Rex x Reader where the reader is getting glasses and doesn’t tell Rex until they arrive? Thanks ❤️

New Look

Pairing: Captain Rex x GN!Reader

Words: 446

Genre/Warning: Just fluff and the Reader messing with Rex a little

Summary: You haven’t told Rex about your new glasses yet and decide to surprise him and maybe just mess with him the littlest bit along the way.

A/N: Sorry if the ending seems rushed, I am currently on holiday and need to be up early tomorrow but instead I wanted to finish this. Thank you for the ask, anon, I hope you enjoy the writing. Feel free to like and reblog if you guys did like this little piece

The doorbell rang and you quickly sat up. Rex raised an eyebrow “are we expecting someone?” You shook your head feigning confusion.

“Not that I know of, unless Fives and Echo decided to drop by again unannounced.” The thought made Rex grimace a tiny bit, most likely thinking about what happened last time the twins of the 501st showed up at your door. You couldn’t blame him for his reaction.

Finally you got up and made your way to the door. When you opened it the droid had the logo of your opticians on it so you brightened knowing what it was. The droid spoke in a monotone voice “I.D please” you obliged.

The droid took a moment to scan your I.D and match it with its records before it handed you the flat, white, box. You thanked the droid and let your door close.

Although you didn’t walk into the living room just yet. You took one of the pairs of glasses out and placed them on your face, you admired your face in the little mirror next to your front door. You turned your head side to side to make sure they looked okay and you concluded they looked very good indeed.

You walked into the living room with a fake bored look on your face. Rex was checking his datapad “No one interesting?” He asked.

You sighed and dramatically slumped on the couch “No just some door to door salesperson.” A small smile settled on his face as he turned to you but it dropped when he looked at your face. Confusion clouded his face.

“Where did they come from?” You clearly knew what he was talking about but instead tilted your head at him. “Where did what come from?” He deadpanned at your response and you had to physically hold back the laugh building in you.

“Love, you aren't doing this to me, where did the glasses come from?”

You furrowed your eyebrows “I’ve always had them” you acted hurt “I thought you of all people would know that Rex” he rolled his eyes and huffed at you.

Finally you released a giggle that had been building. Rex crossed his arms and turned away from you “I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself” you tried to apologise but couldn’t stop laughing, it was starting to make your sides hurt.

Rex eventually turned back to you “you think it’s funny to gaslight your boyfriend?”

You nodded while still laughing.

After finally calming down you faced Rex and pouted dramatically “Can you forgive me, Captain?” He rolled his eyes once again and kissed you.

“Only because you look so good in these.”

[the-lake-is-calling]

DOMESTIC GALE! DOMESTIC GALE!!!!

SO GODDAMN CUTE AND TARA APPEARANCE?!

I saw requests are kind of opened and I have to ask for something with Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep (quite a mouthful, ain't he?)

Like, perhaps Gale and Tav just cooking together and Tara being around and just... a sweet domestic moment?

MEASURE WITH YOUR HEART

SUMMARY: Gale is horrified when you try to improve upon his family's recipe.

PAIRING: Gale Dekarios & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 592

WARNINGS: None unless you count going against the recipe book as sacrilegious or something.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I read domestic Gale and blacked out for a second. (Also unedited because I am lazy!)

MASTERLIST

-

You see a stray finger dip into the pot in front of you. There and gone in an instant, it makes you sigh and close your eyes, taking a moment to listen to the rapid footsteps of a grown man racing across the floor, followed by the screech of a nearby chair. 

“You know I’m fully capable of making dinner without a second opinion, right?”

Looking smugly towards the dinner table, you see Gale nonchalantly reading a book, his eyes flickering to meet your gaze as if he wasn’t just hovering at your side. “I never said that you couldn’t?” he says, pretending to be confused. 

“You didn’t have to. I see that grubby little fingerprint of yours in my soup.” 

While motioning towards your creation, Gale sighs and sets his book down, watching as you narrow your eyes, a soft pout pushing through your lips. 

Immediately, it forces him to push out his chair and move towards your frame, slotting himself against your back with a soft grin that presses against your cheek. “You’re imagining things, dear. I was merely reading my book over there the whole time.” 

You roll your eyes, feeling him grip your hips, pulling your attention away from the soup just long enough so that he can steal a kiss as well as dip his finger in all over again, causing you to scoff through a grin as he laughs.

“You wicked wizard. I should starve you.” 

He licks the tip of his finger, narrowing his eyes as he smacks together his lips. “Hm, is that coriander?” 

You open your mouth to respond but ultimately huff, shaking your head at your partner’s inability to relax in the kitchen. 

“Wouldn’t think to put coriander in it but—“

“You hate it.” 

“I don’t hate it.” 

“But you don’t like it.” 

Picking up your wooden spoon, you begin to stir your less-than-perfect soup to distract yourself; rolling your eyes as Gale begins to go on some long-winded discussion about the recipe you’re currently making. Telling you how, traditionally, it’s made with equal parts cumin and oregano and not bloody coriander because the combination of the two aforementioned spices is the reason the soup is so good in the first place. 

It makes you groan in response, prompting a chuckle to escape Tara as she rubs her fur against your leg.

“Ignore Mr. Dekarios,” she coos, pressing her head against your bare ankle. “He’s just not used to people fiddling with his mother’s recipes.” 

You bite back a smirk and look towards him, watching his brows push together in annoyance as he gently kicks Tara away, earning himself a loud hiss.  

“You’re well aware that this recipe has been in the Dekarios family for generations, right?” he says, jostling you about as he dodges one of Tara’s swipes. “It isn’t just my mother’s recipe. It is a tried and true tested piece of knowledge that has served only the best amongst my clan.” 

You can’t help but let out a dry laugh, craning your head back to rest against his shoulder, feeling his arms tighten around you. “That doesn’t mean it can’t be improved.”

Pinching your sides, he gives you a stern look. “But it does mean such a feat can be difficult.” 

“I’m sure it’s not that hard,” you argue then, planting a soft kiss to his neck before leaning forward again to reach for the spice race, measuring out a few unlisted items with your heart as Gale watches in horror, trying his best to let you have this moment. 

[nahoney22]

Congrats on 4500 followers!!! You’ve come so far and I feel so blessed whenever you’re writing blesses my feed ❤️

May I please request the bad batch and any other clone(s) of your choice learning that the reader (gender neutral) has a bunch of tattoos and they didn’t know because reader is always covered? Perhaps they find out when reader gets injured, or they walk in on reader changing, maybe things get spicy…Could be nsfw, sfw, or anything in between, your choice!

Have an absolutely wonderful day and may your writing grow and flourish!

Tattoo’s***🌊

🫧 All The Bad Batch Boys, Fives & Rex X Gender Neutral!Reader

How the Bad Batch Boys including Rex and Fives react to you having tattoo’s.

warnings: Some are safe for work and others are quite spicy so there is a 18+ warning. Gender neutral reader, tattooed reader, kisses, touchy-feely, flirting, accidental voyeurism, some friends to lovers, friends with benefits, strip poker, nudity, neck biting and kissing, some flustered clones and reader.

a/n: sorry for the wait @ihavemanychickens, hope this is okay. And thanks @probadbatch for the strip poker idea 🔥 🩵🫧

Echo

"Take a seat here; I’ll grab the medkit," Echo ordered as soon as you stepped onto the ship, guiding you to lean against a nearby crate.

You had taken a minor hit—a blaster bolt grazing your calf. The pain was sharp, but you were certain it wasn't anything serious.

As you lowered yourself onto the crate with a wince, you rolled up your pant leg to inspect the wound—a deep graze, but nothing too alarming.

Echo approached, kneeling in front of you. "Let’s have a look."

You appreciated his quick response and care, but you noticed his gaze lingering on your leg. "Is everything okay?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry," he replied quickly, shaking off his distraction as he retrieved some bacta spray. "I just didn't know you had tattoos."

You paused, realising this might be the first time any of the Batch had seen more of your skin beyond your hands and face. You weren't exactly in the habit of undressing in front of them. "I thought I mentioned it before."

"Not to me," Echo chuckled, carefully applying the spray. He winced sympathetically when you did, apologising as he dressed and bandaged the wound. "I think I would have remembered."

You shrugged casually. "I've had them for a while. Planning to add more, actually." You smiled as he stood, taking one last look at your leg before rolling the fabric back down.

"Oh yeah? Got any ideas?" he asked, genuinely curious despite lacking any ink himself.

You began to list off a few ideas, and as you did, you noticed how interested he seemed. "What about you?" you asked as you carefully hopped off the crate, putting minimal pressure on your leg. "Ever thought about getting one?"

He considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "Not really my thing, but they look really good on you."

"Thanks, Echo," you replied, touched by his compliment. He even appeared flustered by his own choice of words. "I’m pretty much covered. I could show you some more sometime?"

You meant it innocently, but the thought of Echo seeing more of your tattoos, and thus more of you, froze both of you in place. His wide eyes mirrored your own as you both stumbled over your words, trying to recover. Fortunately, a transmission started to come through, saving you from further awkwardness.

Who knows, maybe one day you would show him more.

Hunter

“Hey, have you seen my—?” Hunter’s words died in his throat as he stepped onto the Marauder, not expecting to find you in a state of partial undress.

Your back was to him, revealing tattoos that he hadn't known were there. He’d seen the small ones around your ankles before, but this was different. This was...a lot more.

You turned quickly, eyes wide as you grabbed your shirt to cover yourself. Hunter cleared his throat, awkwardly tapping his hand against the ship's wall. "Sorry, I, uh, I should’ve knocked."

"Don’t worry about it," you replied, trying to downplay the situation. "What were you looking for?"

Hunter blinked, trying to recall what he had come for. "I was looking for...you know what? It doesn’t matter." He chuckled, attempting to break the tension. "I didn’t realise you had so many tattoos."

"Oh," you started, feeling a slight flush of heat creep into your cheeks. "Yeah, my back has the most. My legs and arms are pretty much bare."

"And the ones on your ankles," he added, a small smile playing on his lips.

You nodded with a grin. "And the ones on my ankles."

An odd silence settled between you, both unsure of what to say next. You leaned against one of the consoles, watching him as he seemed to look everywhere but at you. "Do you have more than one tattoo?" you asked, pointing to your face where his was on his own.

"Just the one. But it’s, uh, bigger than you’d think."

"It is?" you asked, genuinely surprised.

"It goes all the way down to my hip," he revealed casually, his tone as smooth as ever.

Your eyes widened. How had you never known that? Then again, you both had your secrets. "Really? That’s...cool." Without thinking, you added, "I’d love to see it."

Hunter’s eyes met yours, a spark of interest in his gaze. "I could show you if you want."

You nodded, trying to act nonchalant as your heart rate picked up. You watched as he began to peel off his shirt, revealing his tanned, toned, and muscular build. Your eyes traced over the intricate design of his tattoo as it spread down his ribcage, disappearing into the waistband of his pants. You couldn’t lie, the sight of him stripping his clothes off to show you what he had hidden did something to you… it was literally impossible to focus on anything else.

"Well?" Hunter asked, a teasing grin on his face as he caught you staring. Even worse, you were even biting your lip as you practically drooled over him. You sincerely hope he didn’t hear the way your heart thundered in your chest but you doubt it.

You swallowed, managing a small smile as you met his gaze. "It’s...impressive," you said, voice soft but genuine.

Hunter chuckled, pulling his shirt back on, though the heat between you lingered. "Thanks. Maybe next time, we can compare."

"Maybe," you replied, trying to sound casual, but the way your pulse raced suggested this was a moment you wouldn’t soon forget.

Wrecker

"Headed to the gym? Mind if I join ya?" Wrecker asked, catching you mid-motion as you pulled on your workout shoes. Being back on Kamino meant access to some of the best training facilities, and you weren't about to pass that up.

You glanced up and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Want me to wait for you?"

"Nah, no need. I'll meet you there. Gotta finish up something first," Wrecker replied, already eager to start lifting.

You smiled and headed off to the gym. You started with an intense cardio session, like usual, working up a sweat quickly. The heat made you shrug off your jacket, leaving you in your training tank top. As you moved on to weights, you focused on your form, muscles tensing and relaxing with each rep.

A little while later, Wrecker strolled into the gym, ready to go. He stalls as he noticed you lifting, your body glistening with sweat, muscles working in sync—and the tattoos.

His eyes widened at the sight; he’d never seen so many on you before. He knew you had some but not to this extent. Watching you move, the way your inked skin flexed with every rep, stirred something in him. And in his pants that seemed to get oppressively tighter.

You caught his gaze in the mirror, noticing the way he was staring. Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow. "What’s got your attention?"

He blinked, flustered at being caught. "Uh, nothin'! Just, uh... your tattoos! Didn’t know ya had that many.”

You chuckled, setting the weights down. "Yeah, most people don’t notice unless I’m dressed down like this." You took a step closer, giving him a playful smile. "Like what you see?" You ask with your hands on your hips.

Wrecker swallowed, clearly caught off guard by your forwardness, but he wasn’t about to back down. "Y-Yeah! I mean, they look... really good. You look really good," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he met your eyes.

You grinned, pleased by his reaction. "Thanks. It’s nice to know they get some appreciation." You paused for a moment, your eyes locking with his. "Ever thought about getting one yourself?"

Wrecker laughed, his sudden nerves easing a bit. "Me? Nah, I dunno if I could sit still that long.” And then he takes a bolt of courage. “But maybe I could get used to seeing 'em on you."

The flirtation in his tone wasn’t lost on you, and you felt a spark of excitement. "Well, maybe you should keep coming to the gym with me then. Could be good motivation for both of us."

His grin widened, the tension between you warm but playful. "I think I just might. Gotta keep an eye on those tattoos... and make sure you're not skippin' leg day," he teased, eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and interest as his eyes roamed your body.

You chuckled, giving him a playful nudge as you picked up your weights again. "You do that, Wrecker."

As you continued your workout, you could feel his gaze lingering on you, the atmosphere charged with a new energy. It seemed like these gym sessions were about to get a lot more interesting.

Tech

You crouched beside Tech, helping him with a particularly intricate wiring task on the Marauder. The fabric of your gloves proved too cumbersome, so you slipped them off, deciding your bare hands would offer better precision.

As you worked, Tech glanced over, his eyes narrowing as he noticed something new—delicate, intricate tattoos on your fingers. He hadn’t noticed them before, and the sight of them seemed to capture his full attention.

“I was not aware you had tattoos,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice. Without thinking, he gently took your hand in his, turning it slightly to get a better look. Tech wasn’t typically one for physical touch, so this unexpected action caught you slightly off guard.

You blinked, feeling a warmth rise to your cheeks as he inspects you like data. "Yeah, they’re easy to miss, I guess," you replied, feeling your heart race a little faster.

Tech’s thumb brushed over one of the designs, his touch both curious and reverent. “Tattoos can be meaningful,” he began, his voice taking on that familiar tone of fascination. “The process, the permanence, the cultural significance… all of it is so intriguing. Did you know—” He cut himself off, his eyes meeting yours as he took a deep breath. “What I really mean to say is I have always found you attractive, but this-these tattoos- they just add to it.”

His confession left you momentarily speechless. "You find me attractive?" you asked, needing to hear it again to believe it.

Tech nodded, his grip on your hand firm yet gentle. “Yes. I have for some time now. I find myself even more drawn to you.”

You felt your breath hitch, his words sinking in and making your pulse quicken. "I have more, you know," you said softly, a playful edge to your voice. "If you’re interested in seeing them… maybe somewhere more comfortable?"

A flicker of excitement passed through Tech’s eyes, and he gave you a small, genuine smile. "I would like that."

You stood, leading him to a quieter corner of the ship. As you removed your jacket, revealing more of the intricate tattoos on your arms, Tech’s gaze followed every movement, his expression full of admiration.

“May I?” he asked softly, his hands hovering just above your skin.

You nodded, feeling a thrill as his fingers traced the designs on your arms. His touch was light, sending shivers through you. "There are more on my legs," you added, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I’d have to take off my pants to show you."

Tech swallowed, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. "I would love to see them," he replied, his voice huskier than before.

With a small smile, you slowly undid your pants, sliding them down to reveal the tattoos on your legs. Tech’s eyes widened slightly, his admiration for your body art clear in his expression.

"You’re incredible," he murmured, his hands resting on your thighs, fingers tracing the designs with care. The warmth of his touch and the weight of his words made your heart pound.

“I’m really not,” you gush, turning around so Tech could also see the back of your legs and maybe something else.

“You are being modest for someone dressed so immodestly.” Tech’s eyes darkened slightly, eyes landing on your arse. Without another word, he spins you to face him and leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours.

As your hand wrap around the back of his neck, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more needy, as you both gave in to the moment. Tech’s hands roamed over your body, feeling the curves and lines of your tattoos, and you felt a rush of warmth as his touch ignited a fire within you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Tech looked at you with a mix of awe and affection. "I have wanted to do that for a long time," he confessed, his voice sincere.

You smiled, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "Well, I’m glad you finally did."

Crosshair

It had become something of a routine between you and Crosshair—whenever you were alone, it was only a matter of time before things heated up. Today was no different. “It’s been too long since I last had you,”

You stood in front of him, your back against his toned chest as his hands firmly grip your hips as his lips traced along your neck, alternating between soft kisses and rougher bites.

As he moved closer to your ear, his sharp eyes caught sight of something he hadn’t noticed before—a small, delicate tattoo hidden just behind your ear. His lips paused in their assault, and you felt him stiffen slightly behind you. “You’ve been keeping secrets,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. His fingers brushed over the tiny tattoo, making your skin tingle.

You smirked, leaning back into him. “Maybe you’re just not as observant as you think,” you teased, your tone laced with challenge. “You seem to spend more time paying attention to what’s between my legs than to the ink on my skin.”

A low groan rumbled from his chest, his grip on your hips tightening as he pressed his body against yours. “You think so?” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Maybe I’ll have to change that.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your pulse quickening as his hands started to roam over your body, pushing your shirt up to expose more of your skin. “You should get a tattoo just for me,” he continued, his voice dripping with dark intent. “Maybe a little crosshair… right here,” he suggested, his fingers tracing a spot on your arm. “Or here,” he added, his hand moving to your chest, brushing just above your heart.

You bit your lip, your breath hitching as he slowly undressed you, his hands and words sending sparks of anticipation through your body. “Or maybe here,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his hand slid down to cup your arse, giving it a firm squeeze.

Your heart raced, every touch and every word of his making you more and more aware of how hard he was against you. He leaned in closer once you turned to face him, his mouth hovering just above yours. “Or how about… right under your tongue,” he growled, his voice thick with a slight possessiveness, before slipping his tongue into your mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss.

The kiss was intense, his tongue dominating yours as his hands continued to undress you, peeling away the last of your clothes. You barely registered when he lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bunk.

You could feel his ache, hard and insistent, pressing against your stomach, making you tremble with your own need. He laid you down on the bunk, his body hovering over yours. “I think you’d look good with my mark on you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “That way my brothers know to keep away from what is mine.”

“I’m yours, am I?” You grin, your hand sliding down between your bodies and between his legs.

“Yes. Mine.”

And as his mouth found yours again, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, a tiny crosshair tattoo wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

Rex

The 501st had finally earned a brief respite after a grueling mission, and the team scattered to enjoy some well-deserved downtime. Rex, however, found himself preoccupied. It was time to regroup, but you were nowhere to be found.

“Jesse,” Rex called out, spotting the trooper near a makeshift campsite and asked about your whereabouts.

Jesse glanced up from where he was lounging. “Last I saw, they were headed down to the lake. Said something about needing a dip to cool off.”

Rex nodded his thanks and he made his way toward the lake. You always had a knack for slipping away, but something about the thought of you swimming alone somewhat nagged at him. He figured he’d better go fetch you himself.

The path to the lake was serene, the sounds of nature a welcome change from the usual chaos of battle. But as Rex approached the water's edge, his breath caught in his throat.

You were emerging from the lake, the sun glistening off the droplets of water clinging to your skin. For a moment, Rex simply stared, his mind going blank as he took in the sight before him. Your wet skin gleamed in the golden light, but it wasn’t just the natural beauty of the scene that struck him—it was the tattoos.

He’d never seen them before, intricate designs that seemed to flow with the contours of your body. They were subtle, yet striking, adding an unexpected allure to the person he thought he knew so well.

You noticed him standing there and began to approach, water dripping from your body with each step. As you got closer, Rex suddenly felt very out of place. Trying to shake off his surprise, he cleared his throat. "Your, uh, towel," he said, gesturing vaguely behind you, trying to mask the way his eyes kept wandering back to the tattoos.

You chuckled softly, amused by his sudden awkwardness. “Right,” you said, turning to grab your towel and wrapping it around yourself before facing him again. “Something on your mind, Captain?”

Rex met your gaze, feeling heat rise to his cheeks—a rare occurrence for someone as composed as him. “I didn’t know you had tattoos,” he admitted, his voice a little higher pitched than he intended. “They suit you.” He finishes after clearing his throat.

You smiled, noticing the way his eyes still seemed drawn to the ink on your skin. “Thanks. They’ve been there a while, just not something I show off all the time.” You took a step closer, tilting your head slightly as you gave him a once-over. “What about you? Anything hiding under that armour?”

He felt his pulse quicken at your boldness, your gaze holding his with a teasing glint. Normally, he was the one in control, the one giving orders. But right now, under your mesmerising eyes, he felt a little out of his depth—and oddly, he didn’t mind.

Summoning a bit of courage, Rex allowed himself to relax, just a touch. “No tattoos,” he admitted, though the thought of getting one never sounded more appealing than it did in that moment. He paused, then added, “Maybe we could talk about it sometime. Over a drink?”

Your smile widened, pleased by his offer. “I’d like that, Captain,” you replied, the title sounding more like a term of endearment than a rank.

Rex gave you a nod, trying to keep his expression steady, though his mind was already racing with the possibilities what that drink might lead to. “Good,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Fives

You and Fives had been spending more time together than usual, which led to playful jokes and fun and eventually, a daring suggestion by Fives: strip poker. Since both of you were always ready for a challenge, it wasn’t long before you found yourselves seated across from each other, cards in hand.

The first few rounds were harmless enough—boots, belts, gloves—but as the game progressed, more significant pieces of clothing began to shed. Fives, ever the showman, made a big deal out of every win, laughing and teasing you as you reluctantly removed another item. But what caught his attention most was when your tattoos started to reveal themselves.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Fives said, his eyes widening with pleasant surprise as he saw the first hints of ink on your skin. “I didn’t know you had tattoos!”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as you revealed a bit more with each lost round. “I guess it never came up,” you teased back, your heart racing not just from the game but from the way his gaze seemed to linger on every new detail of your body. And admittedly, you admired his tone and muscular torso also.

Fives grin widens as more of your tattoos came into view. “They’re pretty awesome,” he complimented, clearly enjoying the discovery. “I’m starting to think losing isn’t so bad after all.”

But then, his eyes locked onto a specific tattoo, and his playful expression shifted to one of surprise. It was a simple design, but one that he recognised all too well—a number 5.

“Wait, hold on—” He leaned in closer, pointing at the tattoo with a mix of shock and amusement. “Is that a 5? Did you get a tattoo for me?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by his excitement. “What? No!” you quickly explained, realising how it looked. “It’s not for you, Fives. It’s just a coincidence.”

Fives however wasn’t having it as his smile shifted into a mischievous smirk, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Sure, it is. Admit it, you’re secretly obsessed with me,” he teased, his tone dripping with playful arrogance.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure, but Fives wasn’t letting this one go. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, challenging tone. “Come on, admit it. It’s for me. I knew I was your favourite.”

The heat of the moment—combined with the growing awareness of how little clothing both of you were wearing—made your heart race. “Fives,” you warned, but your tone lacked any real bite. The truth was, his playful determination was getting to you, making it hard to keep up the act.

Seeing you start to falter, Fives pressed on, moving closer until your faces were only inches apart. “Say it,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Say it’s for me.”

You couldn’t hold back the smirk that tugged at your lips. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, your voice betraying how much you were enjoying this. But before you could think of a comeback, Fives closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss.

The intensity of the kiss caught you off guard, eyes wide, but you quickly melted into it, your hands tangling in his hair as his wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and into his lap. The realisation of how nude you both had become only fueled the fire between you.

Fives pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “So, you’re not denying it then?”

You laughed breathlessly. “Maybe it’s time you focus on winning the game instead of running your mouth,” you challenged, though your voice was laced with affection as your lips ghost against his.

He grinned, before he pulled you back in for another searing kiss. “I’m already winning,” he whispered, his hands roaming over your body, exploring the tattoos that had started this whole thing.

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[momojedi]

— KILLER MACHINE

bad batch x gn! imp! reader

chapter one. the division

“Clones?”

My face falls at the sight in front of me. There, on the opposite side of the mirrored glass, my future division is properly lined up in full, black gear; armour I’ve never seen on a clone before. Doctor Hemlock chuckles before moving away from the window and pacing down the hallway. “Not just any clones,” he hums, clasping his hands behind his back as I follow him under the watchful eye of the clone commando accompanying us. “A reconditioned kind. Specialised for the kill.”

“Sir,” I pipe up, trying to keep up with his fast strides, “Clones are a loyal specimen and possibly even the best soldiers we could’ve asked for during the war, yes, but I’m not sure they’re fit to be assassins—“ He cuts me off.

“Oh, they are.” His voice is laced with confidence, leaving little room for doubt and I hesitate before shaking my head and letting my stubbornness slip.

“With all due respect, being an assassin requires far more than just killing. It’s about precision and stealth, both things clone soldiers aren’t exactly known for,” I fight back, motioning toward the soldiers with a wave, “I’ve looked over the Cuy’val Dar’s records from Kamino before, there’s a reason I never worked with them during the wars; most of the troopers performed weakly in those areas, mediocre at best!”

With a sigh, Hemlock stops and turns to face me. “This division underwent extensive reconditioning and rigorous training to ensure full success in the field. Every operative within this elite unit possesses unparalleled expertise, from precision marksmanship to covert infiltration,” he then towers over me, cold eyes penetrating my soul in a judgemental manner, “You have been selected to lead these specimens to success and the Empire expects no less of you. Have I made myself clear?” A chill runs down my spine at his tone and suddenly my mouth goes dry.

I have never been a people person, always working alone and always triumphing alone. Even during the days of the Republic, the Jedi knew better than to pair me up with their people after requesting my help for a mission. Putting me in a position of leadership and responsibility for an entire division is … scary to say the least. But when the Empire wants something from you, it’s better to comply than to step back and so, I swallow the fearful lump in my throat and nod slowly.

“Yes sir.”

Hemlock smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile as he breathes out. “Wonderful.”

Suddenly, the piercing ring of a commlink catches our attention and he raises the small cylinder. “Sir,” a female voice pipes up at the other end of the line, “the Kaminoan scientist is requesting your assistance.” Without responding, Hemlock the commlink back in his pocket and then faces me again. “It appears I am needed elsewhere. RC-1262 will meet you here tomorrow at 0600 sharp for briefing.” He fiddles with the black glove draping one of his hands, ready to turn his back on me but not before giving me one last warning glance. “Remember,” he starts with a dangerous glint in his eyes, “failure is not an option. The Empire demands excellence, and I expect nothing less." His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of expectation and consequence. As he strides away, followed by his clone commando, I'm left with a sinking feeling in my chest.

[awkward-tension-art]

Misc. Clones x Twi'lek!Reader

I’ve had this idea in my head for a while, so….enjoy?

Cw: Twi’lek stereotyping, Speciesism, reader is a twi’lek, gender neutral pronouns, reader is falsely accused in the last set

Minors DNI (even though theres no smut)

501st Legion:

“Hey tail-head! Why not come here and give me a dance?” 

You paused in what you were doing, turning to stare at the one who said such a thing. 

He was wearing white armor, and clearly a shiny. 

Rex

Ex-fucking-cuse me? 

Rex is going to step between you and the shiny, helmet off and clearly pissed.

“Care to repeat that, trooper?”

His glare is steady. He’s not going to raise his voice or shout but by GOD if looks could kill. 

The shiny is going to start tripping over his words to apologize but Rex isn’t having any of it 

“You see that gunship over there? You’re scrubbing the entirety of it with your toothbrush. Now get moving.”

He isn’t having ANY of that shit in his legion. 

Speciesism? Not in his fucking house. 

After the shiny is hauling ass, he’s going to check on you. 

“I’m sorry, cyare. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.” 

Rex isn’t a fool. He’s traveled all around the galaxy. He's worked with General Secura. He’s well aware of the stereotypes surrounding your people. 

He won’t tell you, but whenever someone says any sort of twi-lek slur within earshot, he’s making them run laps around the Resolute. 

Fives

He’s going to be speechless for a solid second. 

Someone??? Just said that??? To his mesh’la?

Oh fuck no.

Fives is going to get in the shiny’s face and just growl, “You have some balls, rookie.” 

This is an ARC trooper who is not above breaking some rules. 

One of those rules is putting a shiny in their place

Fives is going to push them back hard enough to make them stumble, “Say it again and I'll throw you out of an airlock.”

Once the shiny had gotten the message and rushed away, Fives will drape an arm around you

He’ll peck your cheek, “They shouldn’t bother you again, mesh’la.”

Fives finds you to be incredible, but he knows that there will be individuals who have opinions on you just because of the stereotypes surrounding twi-leks. 

He’ll definitely get in the face of anyone who gives you a hard time.

After sometime, it becomes pretty well known that Fives’ S/O isn’t to be messed with.

Kix

The medic is less confrontational.

He also knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll cast a glance your way to see if your alright

If you're ignoring the shiny and moving on, he will too.

But if you look uncomfortable/upset that’s when he’ll say something

“Just ignore them,” He tries his best with comfort, but he knows you shouldn’t HAVE to ignore such words.

If the shiny says something else to you, that's when he’ll confront them.

“If you don’t walk away, I just might forget to give you painkillers when you get shot in the next battle.”

That tends to shut the shinies up. Afterall, pissing off the medic is a bad idea

Once you're alone, Kix will put a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

While he hates the twi’lek stereotype, he knows he can’t really say anything to make it go away. This is most likely a constant background noise in your life, and that won’t magically disappear in a day.

Though, he will go to Rex and tell him what happened. Kix can’t change the whole galaxy but he can at least make the 501st more welcoming

Jesse

He thinks it's a joke at first, maybe some playful ribbing. 

Afterall, he does the same with his own brothers. 

But one look at your face and he’s snapped into gear.

“Good one, brother!” The ARC trooper will put his arm over the shiny’s shoulder, “I got a  better one.”

Jesse will lean in close, “If you say something like that again, I’ll personally make you swallow your own teeth, got it?”

He says this with a smile. 

At first the shiny thinks HE’S joking, but then Jesse’s grip gets tighter, and his smile is gone.

“I mean it.”

Once the shiny is gone, he’s going to kiss you.

He’s another one who will go to Rex. This isn’t something your lover wants you to deal with, especially from his own brothers. 

He expects better from them. Even if they're a shiny

If it happens again, that's when Jesse makes good on his threats.

He’s an ARC trooper. He didn’t get the rank by looking pretty.

He also gets a reputation of being protective, so the next batch of shinies that join the 501st already know to be respectful.

Clone Force 99

“Hey, tail-head, why don’t you and I go somewhere and you can show me some of those twi’lek dances up close?”

You sighed, looking back to see a bounty hunter of some sort with a disgusting grin on their face. 

Omega was next to you, brow furrowed, “Tail-head? Why’d they call you that?”

Hunter

“Oh shut it.” is his first response.

If the bounty hunter opens their mouth again, Hunter's second response is to throw a punch.

This is the man that brought his fists to a food fight. His first reaction will be to silence the bounty hunter, his second is to shut their mouth in a physical way. 

Yea, he’s not above assault. 

Once the stranger is on the ground, that’s when Hunter speaks again

“Think twice before you say something stupid next time.” 

He’s going to give you a concerned look and put a hand on your shoulder

“You ok, Cyare?” 

He’s also aware of the stereotype surrounding twi-leks, and he won’t let anyone give you a hard time. 

He kneels next to Omega and essentially teaches her what stereotypes are

He emphasizes that they’re wrong, and she shouldn’t ever assume things based on stereotypes

Anyone who says ‘tail-head’ in his vicinity they’re losing teeth.

He’s aware violence isn’t going to change opinions, but he isn’t going to stand for anyone throwing slurs at you

Hunter cares for you so much, he just wants you to feel comfortable and safe.

Wrecker

He doesn’t think those vile words are being thrown at you at first. He’ll look to you for confirmation.

When it finally clicks, he stands between you and the stranger. He doesn’t even need to say anything, just glares down at them.

After the bounty hunter gets the hint, Wrecker will turn to you and Omega.

“You can’t say that again, ok ‘mega? That’s a bad insult to twi’leks.”

He doesn’t freak out or draw attention to what Omega parrotted. He’s well aware she’s a kid and doesn't entirely know better.

Wrecker may be a bit dense at times, but he’s not stupid.

He knows exactly what the stranger was getting at saying such things to you.

“Good thing they’re gone, right mesh’la?” He’ll ask, holding your face.

He puts an arm around you and the three of you head back to the ship.

He likes to act as your protector. He knows you can handle yourself, but he just likes to feel like he's protecting you. Afterall you’re precious to him.

His heart breaks if you tell him this has happened before.

He is UNHAPPY that this is something you deal with.

He knows the twi’lek stereotype exists, it’s just…different when it's you.

Honesty, he’ll take this to heart and step-in if he sees something like this happen to another twi’lek.

He’s not going to be a bystander anymore. And Omega definitely learns from his example.

Tech

“Well, that is entirely unnecessary.” 

He won’t pick a fight. He thinks it’s best to ignore instigators. 

He also knows that arguing or snapping at the bounty hunter may make things worse

He’ll grab your hand and lead you and Omega away

If the stranger follows, he’ll turn a corner, put you and omega behind him and set his blaster on stun

Once the bounty hunter turns the corner, Tech will shoot them.

“There.” He says, putting his blaster away, “Shouldn’t bother us anymore.”

Once you three are back at the ship, he’ll kiss your forehead before speaking to Omega

“Tail-head is a slur to twi’lek individuals. It’s supposed to insult someone's lekku. You must never say it again.”

Tech is very much aware of both the stereotypes and their origin.

If someone gives you a hard time or throws more insults at you, he’s not going to stand for it.

He has very little patience for ignorance.

Echo

Barely stops himself from throwing hands instantly.

“You want to say that again?” He’s going to get in the bounty hunter's face very quickly, “Say it again. I dare you.”

Echo is a damn ARC trooper. He can make the stranger eat their words.

But, he’ll hold back, for your sake. 

If the bounty hunter doesn’t back down, he casts a glance at you.

Give the greenlight? It's a fight.

You want to move on and forget this happened? He backs down.

He’ll return to your side and just start grumbling, “Ignorant asshole…if they open their mouth again, I swear…”

 He gets really upset about this. And he knows it wasn’t the first time nor will it be the last time this happens to you. 

When you're not within earshot, he’ll explain to Omega why ‘tail-head’ is not something to be repeated. 

Echo is patient with her. She’s just a child.

But like Tech, he had no patience for ignorance from anyone else.

Will snap at anyone who says ‘tail-head’ or other twi’lek insults within earshot.

Crosshair

While everyone has some form of restraint, Crosshair does not.

It’s an immediate brawl.

His patience is a negative 2 when it comes to this type of stuff.

The bounty hunter hadn’t even blinked before Crosshair knocked them down.

He’s pretty silent, returning to your side and putting an arm around you.

He’ll look at Omega and just say a simple, “Don’t say that again.”

Pretty blunt to be honest.

Crosshair is protective. More so than even Wrecker.

His mind is already running, analyzing your surroundings and seeing who else may make snide remarks.

Afterall, if one person was able to say something like that, how many more are there?

He’ll ask how often this happens.

Depending on your answer he’s either slightly annoyed or pissed.

No one should be giving you a hard time simply because you're twi’lek.

Once back at the ship, he’s going to keep a hand or arm on you in any way possible.

He loves you, and he doesn’t want you to ever feel ashamed or bad for being twi’lek.

212th Battalion:

“Hey, I didn’t know the 212th got its own personal dancer,” The shiny slid next to you, “What do you say? Wanna give the boys and I a moral booster?”

You blinked, eyes wide. That was an entirely new one…

Cody:

After Ryloth, he thought his men would behave better than that. So he’s genuinely caught off guard.

“You have 2 seconds to take back what you said, rookie.” He snaps, glaring.

After a stumbling apology is given to you, Cody continues with his death stare, “I expect better from you. You will treat them and every other alien species with respect. Do I make myself clear?”

Very much not happy about this.

If one shiny said something like that to you, who else stereotypes twi’leks?

It’s not just about you, Cody really expects much better from the 212th.

If one person acts like a moron, it reflects badly on the 212th, General Kenobi and the GAR.

They are soldiers of the Republic in a very diverse galaxy. 

However, he’ll turn his attention back to you and grab your hand.

“I’ll make sure that never happens again, I promise.” 

He’s incredibly sweet about it.

Boil:

Instant shame.

This is how he used to sound!?

“Hey!” He’ll snap at the shiny, “Show some damn respect.”

In a way, he’s trying to compensate for his ignorance earlier in the war.

Before Ryloth, he used to throw around ‘tail-head’ all the time. Something he looks back at in shame.

It was Numa, and now you that made him realize how much of a bastard he used to be.

If the shiny persists, Boil will get up in his face, “Back off. Now.”

If something like this happens again, Boil will go to Cody.

Like the commander, Boil also expects better from the 212th

But also, he wants you to feel comfortable among his brothers.

“I’m sorry,” He won’t exactly look at you. He knows the shiny’s behavior isn’t his fault, but he can’t help but feel shame and embarrassment anyway.

A bit later, he’ll hold your hand and just admit, “I used to be like him. Ignorant and self-centered…I’m sorry.”

Boil loves you so dearly. He just wanted to be honest.

He respects however you react

Waxer

Another one who feels shame.

Yea he didn’t throw around ‘tail-head’ or see twi’leks as lesser, but he stood by while others did.

After Ryloth and Numa, he doesn’t stand by anymore.

“Oh shut up!” He’ll snap, “Go throw yourself out of an airlock.”

Waxer is a learner. He’s learned more about your people. Your history. Your culture. 

He's also learned the stereotypes. Where they've come from.

So, he knows what the shiny is getting at by speaking to you.

this guy painted Numa on his helmet. He’s definitely not going to let anyone disrespect you in any way shape or form because of your species.

He won’t get physical, but he will threaten. 

Once the shiny is gone, he’ll put a hand on your cheek, “I’m sorry. I’ll knock some sense into him later, I promise.”

Coruscant Guard

“Hey!” 

Your Coruscant Guard lover was walking you home when someone grabbed your shoulder and turned you around. 

“Guard! Arrest this twi’lek thief! I know they stole my credits straight out of my pocket!” The pantoran woman yelled right in your face.

When you argued, she just yelled louder, “All twi’leks are conniving thieves! Give me back my credits!”

Of course you didn’t steal anything, but this pantoran seemed convinced that you did. All because you were twi’lek.

Fox

The headache was immediate.

“Ma’am, I assure you they haven't gone anywhere near you.”

He wants to defend you more staunchly, but he’s the commander of the CG.

There’s only so much he can do without risking reprimand.

If the pantoran persists, he’ll get rougher, but remain professional.

“Ma’am if you don’t walk away, I will arrest you for wasting Coruscant Guard resources.”

The best he can do, frankly.

This isn’t the first time he’s seen an innocent twi’lek be accused of a crime.

It happens more than he’d wish to admit.

Honestly, he hates it, but there's protocol in place and he's obligated to follow.

But he knows you're innocent. You were beside him the entire time.

Plus, he loves you. He’s not going to search you.

If she keeps giving you a hard time, Fox will step forward, “Last chance, I will throw you in a cell for the night if you don’t keep walking.”

Usually that works.

He’ll keep you close until you're safely home. He won’t talk about it if you don’t.

Though, he does end up telling the guard to be more mindful of random accusations against twi’leks.

Thorn

“Oh here we go…”

He’s…not taking this woman seriously at all.

“I have seen no such thing. Please make a report to the police.” He’ll just deadpan before walking away.

Petty crime such as a pickpocket is 1-800-not-his-job.

He’ll drape an arm over your shoulder and pull you closer to him.

Like Fox, he’s seen people blame twi’leks solely based on stereotypes

And his response is always the same, “Either show me solid evidence or take it to the police.”

If you say this isn’t the first time, Thorn kinda squeezes your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, love.” He’ll whisper, “the boys and I won’t let anyone accuse you of anything.”

He makes good on the promise. If anyone tries to give you a hard time for being twi’lek, there's usually a Coruscant Guard that steps in.

A partner to one of the Guard is well taken care of.

Hound:

He’s going to look at the woman, then look at you, then look at Grizzer. 

He whistles once, and Grizzer licks your hand.

Grizzer just likes you, this isn’t any sort of actual search.

“They don’t have your credits. Move along or go to a police droid.” 

Since the massiff didn’t ‘find’ anything, the pantoran woman leaves you alone.

“Happen often?” Hound is going to ask you quietly when the two of you start walking again.

When you nod, he doesn’t respond. 

Like the rest of the guard, he knows your people often get falsely accused of crimes.

Having a massiff with a good sense of smell makes it quick and easy to find out if they actually committed the alleged crime.

More often than not, the falsely accused is innocent.

But he knows he can’t be with you all the time. You have your own jobs to do.

One minor fear of his is you getting accused and then thrown into a cell.

All because you are twi’lek

He knows his brothers won’t do such a thing, but police droids aren’t so flexible or understanding.

[vizslasaber]

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── ii.

SUMMARY | The mission continues, and with it, your growing suspicion of Krell’s authoritarian methods. But the troopers relying on you—including Rex—lead you in the right direction: one of unyielding kindness, even when it’s hard.

PAIRING | Captain Rex x female Jedi!reader

WORD COUNT | 3.7k

WARNINGS | Combat/action, mentions of injury & death, Krell being a bitch as usual, gender neutral use of the term “sir,” gratuitous use of Mando’a, and one (1) curse word. Also, a Shakespeare reference because I’m a historian & couldn’t help myself.

A/N | Yay, chapter 2! As you'll probably notice, I changed the reader's story a little bit, and I like it better now as it adds more tension to the plot. Enjoy!

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | NAVIGATION | AO3

For once, you’re glad to have woken up early. It gives you time to get in a pep talk you know will motivate the men rather than bring their morale down, as you know Krell’s speech—which he gave upon arrival—would have done.

“Alright, men,” you call briskly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you pace back and forth in front of the battalion. “You would all do well to remember that it’s not just the safety of the Republic relying on our success—the other battalions have placed their trust in us. Generals Kenobi and Tiin will stop approximately two kilometers outside the capital city, waiting for us to get close enough to begin our initial assault.”

You glance at Rex, who’s standing beside you, and nod for him to continue.

The Captain steps forward. “We’re about elevens klick behind them right now, and fifteen klicks from the capital,” he says. “We’ve got to make good time—and it’s going to be hard, what with the enemies we’re sure to meet along the way. The native population doesn’t play around, and neither do their weapons capabilities. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” comes a unanimous shout from the rest of the troopers. They start to disperse, packing up camp faster than your eyes can follow, and you nod to yourself in satisfaction.

“Rex,” you start, then hesitate as he turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Is it… are you alright with forgoing titles? I always seem to forget to use them.”

Rex looks almost torn—likely between protocol and what you’re asking—but eventually nods. “Of course, sir,” he says, then blanches. “I mean…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I just don’t want to feel bad if I slip up.” He smiles slightly, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “As I was saying—do you have a chief medical officer that I can talk to?”

“Yeah, that would be Kix,” Rex tells you, then frowns. “Is… everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You adjust one vambrace, looking out at the men, then at General Krell on the far side of camp, who’s been surveying the battalion tempestuously since you began to speak. “I just… wanted to ask him something. About battlefield medicine.”

“Are you a medic?” Rex asks, shifting his helmet to one hand.

You grimace at the clinical, militaristic term. “Something like that.”

Rex looks doubtful, but motions to a trooper with an intricately buzzed haircut who's putting supplies into a pack. "Kix—get over here!" he calls, before nodding to you and leaving as he puts on his helmet.

"General," the trooper greets with a crisp salute, and you notice that his pauldrons have the universal sign for medic painted on them in a bright, obvious red. "How can I help you?"

"Actually," you say with what you hope is a courteous smile, "I was hoping to ask you the same question. You're the battalion's CMO right?"

Kix tilts his head. "Yeah..." he says. "I'm not the only medic, though. Got a whole team of 'em. We specialize in what we do, sir, train for it our whole lives, so I don't want to be rude, but—"

"Don't worry about that," you cut in, shaking your head. "I'm not a medic—I haven't been trained in combative tactics—but I am a healer."

"So, like," Kix pauses, searching for the right word as he does so, "a Jedi doctor?"

You snort. "That's... one term for it, yes." You watch as Kix moves the weight of his medpack from one shoulder to the other. "Force healing is an ability that a Jedi is born with. Not every Jedi can become a healer—using the Force to reverse the effects of an injury is not something that can be learned."

There's a pause as Kix nods slowly. "Reversing the effects," he echoes, fascinated. "Even bacta can't do that—it just speeds up the healing process. Sounds like we could use your help."

"Yes," you say. "That's why I wanted to speak with you." You let out a sigh, remembering one of the first things your master told you as a Padawan. "But it's not all-powerful. Just like bacta can only heal what is able to be healed, Force healing cannot create a life force where there isn't one. If someone is near-death, trying to bring them back would render me unable to defend myself from exhaustion."

"Right," Kix replies. "So no resurrection."

"No resurrection," you affirm, smiling. "But I can help. And I know triage."

"Oh, that's even better!" Kix exclaims, then holds out his wrist comm. "Here—we've got a medic frequency—" he waits for you to scan his comm to yours, and when the happy little chime sounds, he pulls away. "Thank you, General."

"Of course," you say as he turns to leave. "And thank you, Kix."

The battalion falls silent and prepares to move out—but just as you’re double checking your armour, a cold, sharp presence casts a shadow over you. Turning around, you make eye contact with General Krell, who's now standing just a short ways from where you and Kix were talking—like he was listening.

“Conspiring with the soldiers, General?” Krell sneers, putting a mocking emphasis on the last word. You raise an irritated eyebrow.

“Conspiring?” you repeat, glancing at the hastily assembling troopers. “They're hardly the enemy, Master Krell. I only want us to win this campaign as quickly and smoothly as possible." Before you can reign in your impulse control, you add, "And continuing to let the troopers rest will get us there faster."

“Rest is a luxury we cannot afford!” Krell snaps, and you jump in surprise at his excessive volume. He leans forward, acrid breath forcing you to resist the urge to cough. “The other battalions are far ahead of us, and you think we have time.”

“We do,” you reply calmly, despite your quickening heartbeat. “The men are keeping a good pace, especially with this difficult terrain. Fifteen clicks isn't far, especially with the supplies we have.” You purse your lips. “Now, I suggest we set off. Talking will slow us down as well, Master—and as you so wisely pointed out, luxuries are not something we can ask for.”

You walk away, then, and feel a rush of satisfaction enveloped in a Force signature that you’re almost positive belongs to Rex. Resisting a pleased smile, you let your hands drift to where your lightsabers are clipped to your belt before moving to walk beside Rex.

“Captain,” you greet, taking notice of the way Rex’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Shall we?”

“Yes, General,” Rex replies, voice clipped. He motions for the battalion to follow, and soon the two of you, along with a still angry General Krell, are leading the troopers through the unwelcoming terrain of Umbara.

The journey is precarious and—as much as you hate to admit it—tiring. Hours pass, and soon you’re almost to the checkpoint Rex had pointed out on the map, situated just outside the city’s heavily fortified border.

You stop for a moment, leaning against the glowing trunk of a colossal tree, and fidget anxiously with the tabards of your tunic.

“Sir,” Rex says, and you turn around. “We’re ready to bring our forward platoons in. What do you suggest?”

“We should continue with Anakin’s original plan,” you say quietly. “A surgical strike on the outer defenses—we must take great care not to needlessly damage any of the city’s buildings. I'd prefer minimal collateral damage when we’re done.”

It is a plan you’ve been turning over in your head since you’d landed on the Umbaran surface. Hopefully—and assuming there were no hindrances—it would succeed. Despite being overly idealistic, and sometimes a little too impulsive, Anakin is nothing if not a strategist—when he wants to be.

“If I may,” sneers Krell from behind you, and you set your jaw. “I do not think that General Skywalker’s futile plan will be necessary.”

In spite of yourself, you clench your fists at your sides. “And why not?” you grit out, not bothering to turn around as Krell comes to stand at your side, towering over your figure.

“Captain Rex and his insolent men have already brought it up with me, and I explained this to them as well. I hold the authority here, and I am ordering all platoons to execute a full-frontal assault,” Krell continues, seemingly unfazed by your irritated expression. “We will travel along the main route to the city and force them to yield.”

“Force them to—” you cut yourself off and draw in a deep, calming breath. There is no emotion, you remind yourself vehemently. There is only peace. “Master Krell. With all due respect, we can't just storm in there with no plan. Casualties will rocket if we try something that impulsive. I just don't think—”

“Need I remind you, General Neridian,” Krell interrupts scathingly, “that you are only one week into Knighthood? We may be of equal military rank, but I am a Master, and therefore hold precedence over your commands.”

“This isn’t about me or you,” you hiss, swiveling to face Krell as your patience is finally pulled taut. Ignoring the shocked stares you know the troopers have fixed on you, you cross your arms. “It’s about this campaign. It's about our mission, and it's bigger than us. So I suggest we agree to disagree, and carry on with General Skywalker’s plan—”

Krell clicks his tongue. “Losing your temper already?" He asks, and you could swear he's taunting you, waiting to see when you'll do something mortifying like raise your voice (but then again, he's done it several times already and it's only been a day). "How unfortunate. Perhaps the Council should not have been so adamant that you face the Trials so early."

You blink and take a step back. He's right, and you know it. You're one of the youngest Padawans to face the Trials in generations, as are all your peers, thrust into a rushed end to your training at the beginning of the war. So many of your friends—Darra, Galene, Ferus, and of course, Anakin, the most tenacious of them all—seem to have risen to this unique challenge with their heads held high. But all you can seem to do is flinch away from the ugly parts, the parts that remind you of just how unprepared you are for these new and daunting responsibilities.

Unclenching your fists, you swallow the bile in your throat and try to stop your hands from trembling. “The Council,” you say, voice tight, "made their choice. And so must I make mine." You turn to Rex, who's standing just behind you and gripping his helmet with both hands. “Captain—prepare the troops. We’re going with General Skywalker’s plan.”

“I…” Rex’s knuckles have gone white with how hard he’s clutching his helmet, and he looks strangely helpless. “I’m sorry, General, but—the regs state that General Krell outranks you due to his status as a Jedi Master.” He presses his lips together and averts his gaze from yours, cheeks red with what you know is anger. “I’m afraid that General Krell’s orders do indeed… take precedence over yours.”

Beside you, Krell looks more satisfied than you’ve ever seen him. The Besalisk turns to the battalion and crosses his upper set of arms over his chest.

“Troopers!” he barks, and the soldiers stand at attention simultaneously. “Prepare to move out!” He presses a button on his wrist comm, and a holomap flickers to life. “You will take the main road straight to the capital. You will not stop and you will not turn back, regardless of the resistance you meet. We will attack them with all our troops—not some sneak attack with a few men.”

You close your eyes and clasp your hands behind your back. There is no emotion, there is peace.

It feels less like a mantra and more like a meaningless, empty chant. Peace, you think despairingly, looks to be farther than ever.

"Sir." Rex clears his throat, making you look up to see him watching Krell like one might survey a blown fuse at risk of setting fire to a building. "Sir, General Neridian is right. This is practically a suicide mission. I don't think—"

“What you think, Captain, is irrelevent. You have my orders, and you will follow them explicitly,” Krell growls, then leans forward, turning to the Captain. “Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?”

Your eyes widen in shock and you glare at Krell, crossing your own arms over your chest to mimic Krell’s stance. “It’s Rex, General,” you snap. “Captain Rex. That’s how he introduced himself, if you've forgotten?”

Many troopers turn to you, and you can tell—even under their helmets—that they’re clearly surprised at your derisive tone. You ignore them, turn on your heel, and storm away, but not before you hear Rex mutter, “Crystal, General Krell.”

The path is lit with some form of concentrated bioluminescent light, making it easier for you to see where you’re going. The clones have the advantage of night vision built into their visors, which makes it hard not to envy them. That alone, that feeling so unbecoming of a Jedi is enough to make you feel a sting of shame, not unlike the feeling that so often came with a scolding from Master Venn when you were still a Padawan.

You wonder for the millionth time if you’ve been forced into Knighthood too soon. Of course, there is nothing to do about that now—every war needs warrior, after all—just like there was nothing you could do when Master Venn told you the news just one week years ago.

She was grim when she told you, and your stomach goes cold with the memory of how she delivered the news, like she was handing you your own death sentence. Now, you know why.

And some have greatness thrust upon them, you think bitterly, remembering how often Master Venn made you read ancient poetry as a Padawan, the kind so old it's still stored on dusty books instead of firmware.

“General.”

You turn to find that Rex has fallen into step with you and smile. “Captain,” you acknowledge. “Forgive me. I was just…” you clear your throat. “Lost in thought.”

Rex—now wearing his helmet—nods and turns his gaze to the path ahead. “Thinking about the plan?”

“No,” you admit sheepishly. “Just about—” you gesture vaguely to your surroundings “—all of this. This war, this strife.” Shaking your head, you fidget with the one of the lightsaber hooks on your belt, clasping and unclasping it. “How fast I've been thrown in, and whether or not it’s necessary.”

“Hm.” You can hear the frown in Rex’s voice. “If it’s any consolation, we clones have mixed feelings about the war, too.”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him. “How so?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug and turns his head away. “Just that… well, I’d rather do without all the lives lost, but... without it, we wouldn’t exist, would we?”

Frowning, you consider this. “I suppose you’re right,” you concede. “But it is the will of the Force that you came to be. And,” you add, shooting Rex a sly smile, “the galaxy would be very different if you hadn’t, hm?”

There’s a moment of silence, during which you get the feeling that the troopers behind you are listening to your conversation. Rex seems lost for words, until he clears his throat. “Me specifically, sir?” You nod, and Rex adjusts his helmet. “I—I don’t know. I’m just one man, aren’t I?”

“That may be so, Captain, but you’ve made more of a difference than you think,” you inform him. “I think I’m correct in assuming that you’ve saved General Skywalker’s arse more times than he alone can count.”

Behind you, someone lets out a surprised laugh, then tries to cover it up as a cough. You smile at Rex and continue.

“And even without that, you’re responsible for many of the Republic’s victories in this war.” You shake your head. “The smallest insect feeding off of a single flower’s nectar has an impact on the entire garden. In the Force, we are all an entire world, a whole galaxy. Never assume that you do not make a difference.”

You feel a ripple of shock, gratitude, and something else—something you can’t quite place—flow through the Force. It’s a refreshing change from the tension and stress of the mission, and you’re just about to open your mouth to thank Rex when—

A white-hot warning flashes in the Force, and there’s a split-second warning as you scan your surroundings for the threat. Then—

“Get back!” you shout, and the troopers in your immediate vicinity immediately scramble off of the path.

They’re just in time—the sheer force of the explosion is enough to knock you off your feet and send you flying backwards. You land on something hard and feel all of the air get knocked out of you.

“Mines!” someone shouts. “Nobody on the path move!”

You freeze as you realize that the surface you landed on is, in fact, Rex—specifically, his armour. Your back is pressed to his chest plate, and you can feel his nervousness as though it is your own, but neither of you move for fear of setting off another mine.

Your cheeks burn when Rex finally leans forward, void of his helmet—it must have been knocked off it the blast. He's close enough to your ear to whisper, “Left. Slowly.”

It sends chills down your spine, but you shake them off. Drawing in a deep breath, you oblige, easing left and onto your knees, so you’re kneeling beside a disoriented-looking Rex. He looks shaken, but quickly gathers himself and cautiously stands up as he scans the area for his helmet.

“Oz is down,” you hear one of the medics say grimly. “So is Ringo.”

Rex spares you one last glance before swooping down to pick up his helmet, brushing the dirt off the visor. He moves to inspect the dead troopers. “Can you sweep ‘em?”

For a long moment, there’s silence as the medics gently move the bodies aside—you respectfully avert your eyes, feeling the sting of grief from the other troopers—and set them down on the side of the path. You hear Kix declare happily that there are no injured despite the two casualties and smile to yourself.

There’s no time to bury the dead troopers, so you settle for approaching Rex and placing a hand on his tense shoulder, over his pauldron with fading and scratched blue paint. “Nu kyr'adyc,” you murmur. “Shi taab'echaaj'la."

Not gone, merely marching far away.

Rex turns his head, and this close, you can see his wide eyes through the visor of his helmet. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then raises his hand and places it over yours. It lasts for a split-second; the next thing you know, he’s pulling away, talking quietly to Fives and Kix.

“Come on, men,” you call to the rest of the battalion. “We need to—”

Chills fly up your spine and you stiffen, just as a loud, shrieking sound engulfs the path and—BOOM! More troopers go flying into the air. There are shouts of Basic, Mando’a, and Umbaran, and the firefight begins, during which you realize—

An ambush. You draw one lightsaber to deflect an oncoming barrage of blasterfire, but it's not enough, and there's no cover afforded to the terrain.

“Shit," you mutter under your breath as you switch on your shoto saber, calling on your knowledge of Jar'Kai to deflect the bolts with both blades. You raise your voice and call over your shoulder. "We’re fully exposed! Retreat to the forest!”

“We can’t, General!” shouts a voice, and you turn to see a blue-painted helmet accented with a small red arrow: Fives. “They’re coming from all directions—” he grunts and fires another blast “—we don’t have any cover!”

You feel your blood run cold. There’s no way for you to retreat—and it’s all Krell’s fault.

“We need them to follow us!” Rex answers, standing with his back to yours as he fires his blasters rapidly. “If we can draw them out, we can see them—and if we can see them, we can hit them!”

“Good idea,” you breathe, even though you know it’s too loud for Rex to hear you. Raising your voice, you lift one lightsaber so the other troopers can see the path. “All squads, pull back now!” You close your eyes for a moment to call on the Force, then propel yourself upwards and leap through the air so you’re at the back of the group. “I’ll take the rear! Cover me—sword and shield maneuver!”

The troopers obey, and soon you find yourself at the center of a tight semicircle formed by clones, all firing mercilessly on the Umbaran soldiers. You bite your lip and shift to Soresu to parallel the blasterfire more easily, deflecting the barrage as quickly and efficiently as you possibly can.

Just behind you is an AT-RT walker, defending your flank. Beside you is a trooper with intricately painted markings on his helmet, firing a rotary cannon and shouting, “Ha-ha! Where you goin’? Get back here, you wimps!”

You grin at his sheer audacity. “Careful there, trooper,” you admonish playfully, deflecting another blaster shot.

“They’re falling back!” Fives shouts, then, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The troopers all holster their blasters while you hook your lightsaber onto your belt.

“CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?” You turn around and raise your eyebrows as Krell approaches Rex, looking furious. “You’ve pulled your forces back from taking the capital city. The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!”

You feel your hands start to shake. “Master Krell,” you say, trying your best to remain calm, “I gave the order to pull back, not Rex. We were completely surrounded and couldn’t risk losing any more men.”

Krell, looking furious at worst and disgruntled at best, saying nothng. Seizing the opportunity to walk away, you turn on your heel and breathe through the anger, urging yourself to keep going, trying to find a quiet place to rest and meditate for just a few minutes.

And you do. Closing your eyes, you lean against the firm trunk of a glowing tree, wiping sweat from your brow. It’s quiet, and you can hear the steady chirping of crickets (or something else) in the phosphorescent grass.

“General Krell,” says a trooper’s voice. It’s more firmthan Rex’s—Fives, you're pretty sure. “In case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that.”

Blinking in surprise, you start to return to the group, wondering if this is an argument you’ll be able to break up—but the hum of a lightsaber being drawn makes you stop in your tracks.

“ARC-5555,” Krell growls. “Stand down.”

You feel your mouth go dry and approach the other troopers. Krell is standing with his back to you, but you can clearly see the green blade of his lightsaber from where you stand, hovering next to Fives's neck. If only Esya could see this, you think, horrified.

Don’t make any sudden moves, your Master’s teachings remind you. He could strike, and then you’d be responsible for the death of yet another man.

Just after the tense conversation between Fives and Krell, the Umbarans returned, sparking yet another firefight—this one with more casualties than the last. You were forced to retreat with the platoons, exhausted and spent.

Now, you sit on the ground, leaning against a fallen tree trunk in a brief moment of rest while the troopers drive away a small squad of Umbarans. In your hand is a pocket holotransmitter, refracting a cluster of blue light in the form of Esya Venn.

“I feel your discomfort from here, young one,” the older Theelin Master is saying, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Impossible,” you scoff. “You’re all the way on Coruscant, there’s no way.” There’s a moment of silence, during which the hologram flickers. You add, “And I’m not so young anymore, you know.”

Esya smiles wanly—you notice the shadows under her normally bright eyes with a pang of sadness—and shakes her head, her long colorful hair swishing lightly.

“You're still young to me,” she says softly, gently. "And you're avoiding the subject."

“I’m fine, Master,” you sigh. “Really.”

"You must not know me as well as I thought," Esya replies primly, a hint of a smile showing through her stern expression, "if you think you can lie to me like that."

You sigh again, frowning down at the flickering hologram. "It's just..." you shake your head, staring off into the foggy distance. "I'm concerned about Master Krell's tactics. They're aggressive, nothing like what you taught me of strategy, and they don't take into account the fact that we need to strive for as little casualties as possible—on both sides."

"Hm." Esya crosses her arms. "I have heard of Master Krell's... unconventional style. Is there anything else that concerns you about him?"

"I mean—everything, really," you admit, lowering your voice. "He has a blatant disregard for life that I haven't seen in a Jedi in, well... ever. He refers to the clones by their birth numbers, not their names, and he sees the native fauna as just—objects. Nuisances." You place the holotransmitter on the ground in front of you and shift your sitting position. "I fear that, to him, no life is sacred."

"If that were the case, I do not think the Council would have granted him the rank of Master," Esya says, but she looks thoughtful, like there's something she isn't saying. "Who is the commanding officer?"

"His name is Captain Rex," you say. "He's Anakin's first-in-command. I think he's just as worried by Master Krell as I am, and..." you trail off, unsure how to voice your next thought.

"What is it?" Esya prompts, light eyebrows raised.

"There's something about him—about Rex," you say finally, reluctant. "It's like the Force is trying to tell me something. That—that he's important. But I can't figure out why." You huff, fighting back a frustrated scowl. "I wish the Force would just tell me. But the answer is so—so elusive."

"As is everything since the start of this war," Esya replies, shaking her thorned head. She fixes you with a fond expression. "But, Padawan... you must remember that the Force is not your enemy, but your ally. If you open your eyes, it will show you the way."

"Yes," you murmur, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. The sounds of talking from the group's position behind you make you frown. "I have to go. May the Force be with you, Master."

“And with you. Always,” Esya replies before cutting off the connection seconds later.

You stand, tucking the transmitter into your pocket, then make for the rest of the group and move to stand beside Captain Rex. He's observing General Krell talk to General Kenobi via comlink.

“The capital city’s too fortified,” General Kenobi is saying grimly. “We still need your battalion to help us take it.”

“Resistance from the Umbarans has been greater than anticipated,” Krell replies. “We’re holding our ground at the moment.”

You swallow, averting your gaze to your boots. Holding our ground… what does Krell think is happening? Surely he hasn’t failed to notice the heavy casualties your battalion is sustaining.

“We’ve gathered intel on an airbase to the west,” General Kenobi replies. “It is resupplying the capital’s defenses.”

Taking a step forward, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we attempt to take control of the airbase, then?”

Turning to you, General Kenobi nods. “Yes,” he answers. “Doing so will sever the capital’s supply lines, allowing the rest of our forces to move in.”

“I’ll see to it that the airbase is placed under our control,” Krell says decisively. It sends a wave of nausea through your stomach.

“Remember, Master Krell; Knight Neridian,” Kenobi says, mouth pulling into a tight frown, “The entire invasion depends on your battalion.”

Krell nods and severs the connection, then turns to you. “Neridian, have those coordinates mapped when you’re finished here, and make sure all troops are ready to move out immediately.” He walks away, leaving you alone with Captain Rex.

You watch Krell retreat with a feeling of incessant dread. “Right, then,” you say to Rex. “What do you say the odds are that we finish this thing his way?”

“Good question, General,” Rex says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he watches the Umbaran sky darken with more eerie purple clouds. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

NEXT CHAPTER >

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"Creative" Miniseries

Warnings and Information: Because some of these get suggestive, we're gonna say Minors DNI.

I went down a list of creative hobbies at random, so some of these may not necessarily "fit" our 501st boys in blue. This is more a creative writing exercise than a serious list of headcanons.

If I miss someone from a certain unit, or you want to see so-and-so with a different creative hobby than the one I went with at random, let me know and I can do another part just for them. It doesn't have to be in the form of a request, but you're welcome to make one (it'll be easier to keep track of that way/guarantee I'll see it)!

Word count: 1,507

Captain Rex 

If his cyare was a photographer, he keeps their photos on the inside of his chestplate, anywhere really, but the most important one is over his heart. They don't stay very nice for long due to friction, but that's okay. He keeps extra copies and dutifully replaces them when he gets a spare moment. He started doing this after Umbara. The photo he always, always keeps over his heart is of him taking care of his brothers. He doesn't know why you snapped that photo of him stepping off the gunship, one arm tucked around an injured, unpainted Shiny and the other free hand patting someone on the back. But there's something about the way he looked to you behind the camera that made you take the picture. It's the picture that came after it, though… A delicious and sultry little snapshot of you posing suggestively with his helmet. That one, he keeps very, very well hidden. 

Tup

If his cyare was a jeweler/beader, he proudly boasts all the experimental jewelry. On more than one occasion he wishes he had his ears pierced, but he knows it'll just end badly if he ever has to take his helmet off quickly for any reason. You made a hair-tie for him once as a sort of compromise. It was made of a dark leather cord and the odd tear-drop shaped bead kicking around in your box of materials that hung so beautifully, delicately, from the cord; nestled between two spherical beads on either side. It was more of a sea glass blue than the proud navy of the 501st, but it looked nice against his hair all the same. He used to wear it around his wrist when he slept. He's not sure when he lost it. But it was his favorite thing you'd made for him. So when you make him a replacement, something similar that he can keep around his neck this time, he makes a great effort not to lose this one. 

Jesse

If his cyare had the patience for a needle and thread, he finds secret details added to his blacks and his other fabric wear in embroidery floss. Miniaturized star charts. An animal or a flower he told you about from his last campaign. Short jokes when you had the time to meticulously plot out each letter to make them all legible. Strings of coordinates. Kamino. Your home planet. Where you first met. Where you had your first… ahem, "flight" together (or nearly did). The next place you wanted to go on a date. Jesse ends up getting a lot of cogs stitched into his belongings, usually with a note that reads "If you can find all the icons of the Republic I've hidden, we get to do whatever you want the next time you have shore leave. There are 16 cogs. You have 12 standard hours to find them all. Good luck, ARC trooper~" and Jesse always finds them all. 

Dogma

He counts himself lucky his cyare delights in drawing him so much. Portrait studies in all sorts of mediums. "I have something new I want to try! Will you model for me, please?" Watercolor. Oil pastel. Gouache. Pencil. Charcoals. Colored pencils. Ink. Heck, even crayon. You take such care to capture every little detail of his face, his tattoo. It was dependent on the medium, but sometimes the details of his tattoo were so crisp, it was like looking himself in the mirror. You've drawn him up in his armor a few times, but you find the impersonal plastoid so… "blasé" (which had been an odd choice to express your disinterest). You'd much rather be drawing him. His face. Just all of him posed in anything and everything he wore (or didn't) while looking so disciplined and compliant for you. You've even hinted you'd love to do some… anatomical study sessions with him, whenever he thinks he's comfortable with the idea. 

Fives

He counts himself very lucky he didn't get himself thrown out of his cyare's pottery studio the first time he wandered in and found them in the middle of throwing at the wheel. Building a vase to replace yet another decoration that had been ruined in a bout of roughhousing by pulling up and pushing in the lump of clay in your hands. "Hah. You sure know how to work your hands and fingers. Bet you have really-" and he'd been hasty to shut his mouth with the gentle ticking of one of your brows in a go on, I dare you sort of fashion. All his worries were disarmed with a simple laugh when you said he was welcome to watch you work, but you'd prefer to have a little warning next time before he came barging in. The clay moved so fluidly, so effortlessly in your hands as you built beautifully balanced vases and designed intricate pitchers and teapots for the Jedi Temple, Fives suspected you could throw in your sleep. And, oh yes, you certainly had expert control of your fingers whenever you promised him a more "private demonstration". 

Echo

He thinks his cyare has the voice of an angel. They sing. They can croon, or warble, and they can get somber and bluesy. It's all beautiful to Echo. Suddenly that song he was sick to death of on the radio goes from barely tolerable to beautiful, and almost hauntingly so. His cyare could take an upbeat ditty popular on the dancefloor of 79's and turn it into something romantic and heartfelt by slowing down the tempo, and drawing out the words just the right amount. And you could do the opposite, too. He's almost positive you could take a funeral dirge meant to be sung quickly under one's breath while they hastily buried the dead in their armor could become so soulful and twice as meaningful. Your voice is like magic to Echo, and it soothes him to hear you sing as you wander about the house.

Hardcase

He's always had a bit of a hard time sleeping thanks to the leak in his growth jar that made him hyperactive. His brothers have made more threats to tape or tie him down into his bunk than he can count. So his cyare, clever thing that they are, comes up with something so simple, Kix is kicking himself for all these sleep inducers he could have saved himself had Hardcase started using this sooner. He loves the dirty jokes he can make about his cyare's hobby as a crocheter. "They're a hooker in their spare time! And they've got a whole room full of WIPs and chains, too! I get to help if I promise to behave." It's right about the point that he brings up all the various types of yarns and threads and everything in every color under the sun that they've collected from all over the galaxy that people realize Hardcase is talking about how many blankets, dish cloths and table runners (whatever the kriff those are) his darling's made. "Why the kriff did you have to make it all sound so kinky, Hardcase? You're telling me they just made you a blanket?" It's not just a blanket to Hardcase. It's far more comfortable than those scratchy GAR sheets. It's soft, and it's warm, and because this was something that cannot be made by machine ("Those articles on the Holonet are full of it! Crochet CAN NOT be replicated by machine!") and instead, with an amount of patience that would make his head spin, just for him, Hardcase finds himself falling asleep and staying asleep much easier than before. 

Kix

He's almost glad that he complained about a lackluster medical infographic he'd been asked to distribute to his brothers in front of his cyare. "That's… that's the worst visual artwork they could have possibly chosen on how to perform the Heimlich Maneuver." You had taken one peek over his shoulder as you removed the shoulder bell that bears the shattered red cross on it and agreed. "That's absolutely awful. And their layout is atrocious; who the kriff designed this? Not someone in the GAR, I hope. I can do better than that." You fired up your graphic design software and spent the next several hours tweaking with the design of a new handout. No silly novelty fonts that made it hard to distinguish an "N" from an "M". Concise bullet points of medical information that was easy to understand. You consulted him to make sure it was up to snuff after several hours, and Kix could have collapsed in his euphoria when you asked him what he thought of an additional handout you'd thought of and had started working on. You remembered his complaint about this new medical drama going around the galaxy and how it was full of false information that a lot of his brothers had taken to heart. "Cyare, you're a lifesaver!" It makes you laugh between his kisses when you remind him that you're only a graphic designer, and he's the medic. 

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