#the clone wars reader insert

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Title Prompt: I'll drop a few below and you can choose whichever gives you inspiration. And I'll let you choose SFW or NSFW, whichever suits your fancy.

- Intergalactic Tango

- Up All Night, Neon Lights

- 79s: Crash & Dash

Feel free to adjust the title to fit whatever inspiration you get. Have fun! 😘

Up All Night, Neon Lights

Summary: A night out with your friend leads to a daring rooftop fling.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Fives x reader, gn!reader so can be read as M/M or M/F, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), marking, creampie, exhibitionism, writer got caught up in the 'neon lights' part of the title prompt my bad, uhh I think that's everything?

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I had so much fun with this!! This is my first time writing Fives so I hope I did him justice. Thanks for the prompt, @523rdrebel <3

You have no idea what’s gotten into you tonight.

But you don’t really care. 

Giddy laughter bubbling up in your chest, you stumble as the trooper tugs you along by hand. He throws you a charming smirk over his shoulder. Cold rain pelts down on the two of you as you sprint through puddled Coruscanti streets, plastering your clothing to your body, seeping into your bones. Despite that, and despite the odd looks thrown your way as you push past pedestrians who were sensible and brought raincoats and umbrellas with them, all you want to do is stop and turn your face skyward, catch the rain in your mouth, bathe in the distorted neon reflections. 

Because tonight has been nothing but neon. First the bar that your roommate had dragged you to, the giant LED screen emblazoned with a technicolor 79s, the inside as richly lit with oranges and pinks and whites; then the second bar you hopped to, a small company of clone troopers following like groupies, illuminated by vivid reds and blues; and now, sprinting through this side-street marketplace, aqua and magenta lights dazzle your eyes. You feel just as multicolored on the inside, a riot of sensations and emotions and needs. 

“C’mon, mesh’la,” the trooper says with a deep chuckle. “Let’s get you out of the rain.” 

“But Fiiiiives,” you whine, just the slightest bit tipsy, pouting your bottom lip in a way you hope makes you look cute and not like a mess, “I like the rain.” 

He glances back to you, the neon shining in his dark eyes, black curls slick with rainwater. A devilish grin tugs at his lips—lips you’ve been trying not to stare at all night, trying not to imagine what they feel like against yours, on your skin, between your legs. The look he gives you is inscrutable, a mask of bravado and sex, one that you’re desperate to rip off and see what he’s hiding underneath.

Yeah. You really don’t know what’s gotten into you. 

When your roommate convinced you to go clubbing with her tonight, you’d been a little skeptical. Bars are most decidedly not your scene. But she had come prepared with receipts: the immense amount of stress you’ve been under at work, even in a low-level senators’ office; the messy breakup you survived just a few months ago; and the fact that you promised her a night out. With all the evidence stacked against you, there really hadn’t been any other answer but, “Where are we going?” 

And when you’d arrived at 79s, hours ago now, you’d been a little overwhelmed by the abundance of clone troopers in attendance. Sure, you’ve interacted with a few clones just by virtue of your job. But in those instances, they always had their helmets on, and you most certainly tried to avoid attracting attention in your day-to-day life. The goal, your friend assured you, was to attract as much attention as possible. She’d styled your face and clothing in a way that drew the eye exactly where she—and you, you supposed—wanted people to look.

It had worked. You hadn’t paid for a single drink all night, not that you had many. Multiple troopers took their shot, but really, it was the cocky, self-assured one with a ‘5’ tattoo and goatee that caught your eye. The one whose half-smirk over the rim of his glass promised no-strings fun, if that’s what you wanted. He’d drawn you in with those dark, shining eyes, and now, gazing into them with rain pouring into yours, you swallow against the rush of arousal that surges within you.

The rain subsides; for a moment you think the storm has passed. Looking up, you realize you’ve moved under an awning, the corrugated metal drumming loudly in the downpour. Panting, you squeeze Fives’s hand as you slow to a walk, and finally to a halt, to catch your breath. 

You give him a breathless smile. His teeth flash in the technicolor lights as he smiles in return, pushing his curls off of his forehead. Your heart skips at the sight, like a lovesick teenager. Biting your lip, you shuffle your feet, butterflies beating their wings against your insides.

“Kriff, mesh’la,” Fives chuckles. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” 

Blinking in surprise, you quirk an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

He nods, sliding an arm around your shoulders. “Fun, charming, attractive. I like that.” 

“Good,” you hum. His body heat is a welcome respite from the clinging cold, and you boldly snake your arm around his waist and pull him closer. “But I think all of those words describe you better.” 

He tips your face up with one gloved finger under your chin. You gasp at how close he is, his face inches from yours—and this close, you think you can see past the cocky mask he wears, glimpse the man beneath, the one who dreams and wants and needs and cries and loves. Gulping, you can’t help the way your eyes flick down to his lips. 

You know he noticed, his mouth pressing into a small smile.

“I know they say opposites attract, but...” He trails off. His dark eyes study your face, tracing every feature, before settling on your mouth. “Well, personally I’ve always preferred someone like me.” 

“And what are you like, Fives?” you breathe, tilting your head, drawing closer to him. 

He grips your chin between thumb and forefinger, nostrils flaring as he takes a breath. “Insatiable.” 

A noise escapes you, somewhere between a moan and a gasp. He leans down, eyes never leaving yours until your noses bump. He holds there, his breath fanning your face—giving you a chance to pull away if you want. 

You don’t. Tightening your grip around his waist, you slot your lips against his, eyes sliding shut with a proper moan. His hand cups your face, holding you against him. You lick his bottom lip and nudge his mouth open. Droplets of water kiss over your skin as you nearly devour one another, tongues meeting hot and wet. Stabilizing yourself on his chest with one hand, your knees quake at the vibrations of his growl against your palm. 

When he breaks the kiss, he pants, resting his forehead against yours, a surprisingly bashful smile gracing his features. “That was...wow.” 

You can’t even form words, simply giggling in agreement. He looks gorgeous like this, a blush high on his cheeks and wet skin shimmering in the light of neon. Your hand wanders from his chest up, up, up into his hair, still soaked and dripping, your nails lightly scratching over his scalp. With a shudder, his eyes screw shut. 

“You wanna get outta here?” 

“And go where?” You swallow, trying to think through the haze his kiss brought on. “I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is.” 

He chuckles. “Well, the barracks are too far, and I’d bet my entire pension that your friend has one of my brothers back at your apartment.”

“I thought clones don’t get pensions?” 

There’s that smirk again, the one that makes you feel like only you and him are privy to an inside joke. “Exactly.” 

You snort in what you’re sure is a very unattractive manner, but Fives’s smirk broadens to a genuine smile. His thumb rubs circles on your back. 

“My question still stands, then,” you say. 

He hums, the sound rumbling pleasantly under your palm, sending tingles up your arm. “I have an idea. Can I show you something?” 

The way he asks it, like he’s asking permission for something beyond kissing you again or even fucking you, makes your stomach flip. “Of course.”

That roguish glint in his eyes once again, he removes himself from your embrace and, taking your hand, steps back into the rain. You gasp at the shock, the water feeling even colder against your heated skin. You follow him wordlessly as he wends his way around midnight market-goers, tramps through puddles, and finally pushes open a creaky door at the base of a skyscraper. 

“We can take the lift,” he says, “but we have to climb a few floors first.”

So, a few flights of stairs later, you stand winded in a lift, soft music chiming from hidden speakers. As soon as the doors slide shut, you lock eyes with Fives, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or what, trooper?” you ask, voice pitched low. 

He closes the distance in two long strides. Back pressed flush to the lift wall, you gasp as he braces one arm above your head, his other hand hiking your leg up over his hip. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

His mouth is on yours before you can even think of a response, wiping all thought from your mind. You grind your heated core against him. When he licks into your mouth, you whimper, core throbbing with desire. Your hands can’t find a spot to rest, gripping his biceps, squeezing his ass, tugging his hair, cupping his half-hard dick. He bucks against your hand, groaning into your mouth. 

Neither of you break apart when the lift dings and the doors slide open. Only the sound of someone clearing their throat, obviously annoyed, jolts you out of the lustful daze you’ve sunk into. Face growing hot, you lower your leg back to the ground and keep your eyes down as the other person steps into the lift. Fives shoots you a smug wink; you cough to cover the giggles that rise up and try to escape.

The rest of the ride to the top floor is silent and awkward, but Fives’s finger tracing mindless patterns on the back of your hand makes it hard to care. As soon as the doors open again, you’re pulling him out of the lift and into the hallway. 

You’re both laughing before the lift even closes again. Doubled over, buzzing with embarrassment and desire, you slump against the nearby wall until the fit passes. Fives wipes tears from his eyes. 

“Did you see their face?” he asks.

“No,” you groan, burying your own into your hands. “I only saw their shoes.” 

He guffaws. “I get the feeling this isn’t the first time they’ve witnessed, ah, certain activities in their building.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you say. “But enough about them. What is it you wanted to show me?”

Eyes twinkling with mischief, Fives gestures down the hall to the door labeled ‘ROOF ACCESS.’ With a grin, you dart to the door and shove it open. You take the stairs two at a time and emerge, breathless, to a rain-slicked rooftop.

You move to the edge without thinking. Leaning your forearms on the permacrete wall that lines the edge, you crane your head over to look down. The vertical drop to the streets below makes your head swim, but you find you like the sensation, falling without moving. The rain has begun to lighten up, coming in a drizzle now. From this height, the glow of neon lights melds into a smooth gradient, like someone took a giant brush and blended the colors together. Lights flash and strobe and glitter as far as you can see, stretching to the horizon. 

Fives wraps his arms around you from behind. His warmth is welcome, and you lean back against him. 

“It’s gorgeous up here,” you say. “Thank you.” 

He hums. “Not as gorgeous as you, mesh’la.” 

You laugh, squeezing his hands where they rest over your waist. “Please. Look at all that.” 

“I am,” he says. “I see it. And I see you.” 

Breath hitching, you turn around in his grasp until your back presses against the low wall. Peering up into his dark eyes, you catch another glimpse of the softness he’s hiding, and it makes you melt. You caress his face, relishing in the way he leans into your touch, his eyes shut, brow smooth and unworried. 

“Fuck me,” you say, bolder than you expected of yourself. 

His eyes fly open. “Here?”

“Why not?” 

His chest heaves with sudden excitement, and against your thigh, his cock stiffens again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

He helps you shuck your clothing until you’re both completely naked under the clouds. The distant lights glisten on his damp skin. You rest your palm over the handprint tattoo on his pec, and he shudders. His eyes rake over your body, drinking you in, as you do the same to him. Water collecting in droplets on his skin, you trail your eyes over his toned abs, powerful thighs, veiny forearms, and heavy cock. You lick your lips in anticipation. 

His hand is scorching against your skin where he thumbs over your hip, pulling you closer. Bodies slotting together like two halves of a whole, you sigh in contentment. Slinging your arms loosely around his neck, you press your chest to his, your stiff nipples sensitive where they graze his skin. 

“Fives,” you plead. You don’t even know what you need, but you need him, need him to do something, give you his cock, give you his kisses.

“I’ve got you.” With a half smirk, he caresses your aching core, fingers nimble and firm against you. 

You keen brokenly, emboldened by your distance from the ground, letting your pleasure take control. Fives drops his head against your shoulder, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, as he works you up to the edge of bliss. Blindly, you reach for his hard length. You are rewarded with a deep groan as your fingers find purchase, wrapping around his velvety skin and pumping him slowly. 

“Fuck, mesh’la,” he whimpers. “Gonna make you feel so good.” 

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please, Fives, please.”

He bites down at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sucking a mark into your skin as you writhe against him. Pleasure cresting within you, a thin wire pulling taut and molten in your belly, you moan to the sky. 

“Gonna- please, Fives—” 

His hand withdraws and he chuckles as you whimper at the loss. “Not yet,” he croons. “Need you to cum on my cock.” 

“Fuck, yes.” You hitch your leg around his waist again, presenting your neglected entrance for him. He prods against you, his tip flushed and leaking. Desperate, you spit into your free hand and coat his length with it, eyes locked on his. 

“Just like this,” he murmurs, and then he’s pushing into you, splitting you open at the seams and sewing you back together. Your head falls back, nails digging against his back. Your body tenses at the intrusion, but you love it, love the burn of the stretch, love the way that he fills you so completely, love the way his hand feels plays at your core as he gently rocks his hips up against your ass. 

“Kriff, mesh’la.” He presses his forehead against your chest, gripping your ass so tight you know you’ll have bruises that match his fingerprints. “So tight, so needy.” 

Shifting in his grasp, careful to not let his cock slip out, you prop yourself on the wall with your elbows, your upper half dangerously close to hanging over the edge. The danger makes your chest heave with excitement; the safety of Fives’s arms makes your core clench with need. His eyes find yours again, and he looks absolutely debauched. 

You tilt your head and catch his bottom lip between your teeth. His groan vibrates into your bones, slowly pulling that wire inside you tighter again. 

“Please fuck me, Fives,” you moan. “Please, need you to fucking ruin me.” 

Hips snapping against yours, he fucks you into oblivion, cock dragging against that shattering shard of heaven deep inside you. You cling to him, blinking away the rain, and scream your pleasure. The harder he fucks into you, the more your vision goes fuzzy, bursts of aqua and magenta and white neon blinding you to everything except Fives. His name becomes a chant, a prayer, tumbling from your lips in reverence. 

“Gonna cum,” you whine.

“Where should I—?” 

“Inside,” you cut him off. “Please. Need to feel your cum in me.” 

He bites you again, the pain blending with the pleasure so intensely that it shoves you over the edge of orgasm. Your entire body locks up as the cord inside you breaks. Molten, white-hot pleasure pulses through you, and you nearly black out, your release coating you both. 

Only Fives’s strong arms around you keep you upright as he ruts into you, chasing his own release. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—” He stills, shuddering, panting into your neck as his cock throbs in your tight heat, warmth blooming from the inside. 

“Yes.” You card your fingers through his hair. “Thank you.”

He chuckles, breathless, his eyes glazed as they meet yours. “I should be thanking you.” 

You grin, kissing him. “I can think of a few ways for you to do that.” 

“At least let me buy you dinner first.” 

You laugh morphs into a whine as he slips out of you, his cum dribbling down your inner thigh. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Taglist: @thorsterstrudle @anxiouspineapple99 @deejadabbles @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @idontgetanysleep @wolffegirlsunite @wings-and-beskar @mandos-mind-trick @moonlightwarriorqueen @sunshinesdaydream @starqueensthings @littlemissmanga if I missed anyone pls lmk!

[obiwansito]

the night i nearly lost you

the great war chapter four

playlist 𐐒𐐚 taglist ʚĭɞ fic masterlist

pairing- obi wan x f!reader

word count- 5.5k

summary- grab your tissues, order 66 is here.

tags & warnings for this chapter- this is pure angst. heavy, gut-wrenching angst. graphic descriptions of violence, death, more angst. also, very brief reader physical description (blink and you miss it). child death, torture, emotional distress, betrayal.

a/n- i need therapy after writing this, that's all i'm gonna say.

"The clones? How- they would not do this."

Sammi's desperate voice enveloped your ears, which buzzed loudly as panic took over your body.

You thought of Forge. Rex, Cody - would they have betrayed you too? Or was it just the clones on Coruscant?

No, it was impossible. They had fought with you for so long, they were loyal, much more than just soldiers. They were your friends.

A nearby blaster snapped you out of your thoughts, the screams of who you thought was the knight who lived across the hall from your quarters making you shiver.

Your chest rose and fell uncontrollably, and you used all your inner strength to control your body and pull yourself away from the door.

The screams died down too quickly. In the air, you could feel hundreds of Force marks fading away. Not just in the temple, all around the galaxy.

You wanted to breathe deeply, to think clearly. But when you tried to tap into the Force, you sensed a vast darkness surrounding it.

"What will we do?" Sammi's voice trembled.

You looked around, trying to find a way out. You couldn't stay there. It was too dangerous.

The window? It was too high.

Go straight out the door? Surely there were too many clones and you would easily be outnumbered.

You sighed, making a decision.

"We can't get out of here. Not yet." You grabbed your belt with your lightsabers.

"So what do we do?" Sammi stood up.

You grabbed her hand, dragging her into your closet. You both hid in the small, dark place, the tiny space in between the two doors your only source of light.

“They will most likely come in here. If they do, we'll be ready. If not, as soon as it's all clear we'll come out.” You whispered. Your voice was weak, but you weren't going to let fear cloud your senses.

Sammi nodded, but her Force mark reflected her nerves. You couldn't blame her, you were the same way.

You were about to reply when you felt a change in the Force. It was just a sensation, as if something you'd had for a long time had been taken away from you. Your vision blurred as you tried to detect what was missing, what was it that was destroying your heart inside.

Just then, you realized what it was. That thing that had broken, that was slowly disappearing without a trace.

No.

No, no, no.

You blinked, and were no longer in the Jedi Temple. You were smaller, just a child of almost three years old.

You looked around you. A familiar planet that before, when you were not yet conscious enough, was your home.

You were on Naboo.

Beside you, was a woman. So beautiful, yet her face was lost in the sea of memories hidden deep in the depths of your mind. Kept to prevent the bonds that your Order prohibited so much.

And when you looked ahead, you found the person you could call family. The man who had taught you everything you knew, who had cared for you as if you were his own daughter.

“If she approves, she will be taken to the Jedi Temple for training. I can sense that she is powerful in the Force, I will take care of her myself.”

The familiar voice of your master became a blur, as hundreds of memories with him flashed through your mind.

When he took you in as a Padawan.

Your first mission together.

The last hug you gave each other and the last time you talked, his advice causing your eyes to sting with tears.

You fell to your knees as you felt that part of you, that soft warmth in your chest that you knew was the bond you shared, simply vanishing without a trace.

Sammi was trying to talk to you, tugging at you desperately. But you couldn't hear her.

Not when your master was dead. Plo Koon was gone, and along with him, so a part of you was too.

The air started to go out of your lungs, the small space where you were hiding quickly suffocating you. Your master's face was beginning to plague your mind, his last words to you stabbing into your chest like hundreds of daggers.

“Hey, what's wrong, are you okay?” Sammi's startled whispers sounded blurry through your tears, which you didn't even know you were shedding. Until-

“Look for all Jedi traitors! Leave nothing in the room unchecked!”

The door to your quarters opened, and footsteps could be heard coming in. Surely they had destroyed the lock. You immediately quieted your sobs, looking at Sammi. Her eyes were wide.

You put a finger to your lips, warning her not to make a sound. The two of you held hands, trying to calm your racing breaths.

From the footsteps, you could tell it was two or three troopers. They were making a mess of the room, searching everywhere. The sound of their boots against the floor made you shiver, afraid they were coming towards you.

“Check everything!” That familiar voice was breaking your heart. The voice of your best men, now turned into a threat to everything you considered home.

You had one of your blades ready, in case they opened the door. “There's nothing here! Let's go, there's plenty out there.”

You heard the troopers moving away, and you almost sighed from relief, but....

“Wait! There's still another place left.” There was only one trooper left , and you tried to locate his footsteps, but your breath quickened as you felt him getting closer and closer to you. You could see him through the small space between the two doors, covered in blood. And you and Sammi were next.

The sudden sound of blasters and lightsabers outside the quarters snapped you out of your distraught state. The clone immediately ran off, leaving you alone.

You both held your breath for a few more minutes, when the blasters had stopped firing and you knew the clones had gotten far enough away.

Slowly you opened the door, checking that everything was clear before leaving. Sammi followed you cautiously, her bloodshot eyes scanning the place. Your rooms, once a direct reflection of your personality, were now in shambles. The furniture overturned, the bed unmade, your few belongings thrown everywhere.

You approached one of your drawers, which was completely turned upside down. In the middle of crumpled sheets and towels, there were two hidden images; which you should not have, since attachments in the order were forbidden. But because of your big heart and infinite love for your loved ones, you had not been able to avoid treasuring those lovely memories captured forever.

Your hands trembled as you picked them up, recalling a life that would never be the same. The first one was from almost a year ago, after a battle that had left you exhausted and full of dirt. Anakin and Ahsoka were lying on the ground, resting. And off to the side, sitting by the fire, were Obi-wan and you. Forge had taken it, and though he didn't mention anything, it was almost impossible for him not to have noticed the way you were looking at each other. As if there was no one else around.

You felt your heart shrink with the second one. It was old, the margins were slightly wrinkled. But the image was very clear. A smiling girl, a Padawan braid in her long hair. And beside her, a Keldor was looking at her lovingly, a hand on her shoulder. It was you and your master.

You wiped away a tear that threatened to fall on your cheek, inhaling softly as you laid the pictures on your chest. Plo Koon was gone. Never again would you feel his presence in the Force, or hug him, or hear his voice.

Sammi, who had been silent until now, rested a hand on your shoulder. “What happened in there?” her voice was soft, and full of caution. She could feel your pain in the force.

You turned to her, a lump in your throat. “My master... he's dead.” You were trembling slightly, your mind couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth. It was impossible, but you knew it was true.

Your friend stepped back slightly, holding a hand to her mouth in horror. “No... How do you know?”

“I felt it.” It was almost a whisper.

She asked no more questions, for she understood what you meant. Her face contracted in sadness, giving you a small hug. “I'm so sorry.”

You gave her a sad smile with tight lips. There was no time to suffer, you had to find a way out of there.

You placed the photos on your belt, putting on your robe. “We have to go.” You closed your eyes, thinking of a plan. You could outnumber some clones, but if there were too many, then you would be easily outnumbered.

“We have to find the younglings. We can't just leave them here.”

Your stomach turned at the thought of the little ones all alone in this dangerous situation. You quickly nodded. “Let's try to save everyone we find. The larger our group is, the better chance we have of survival.”

Sammi nodded. “There's a hidden hangar near the medical wing. We can get out that way, grab a small ship and get off the planet.”

Since the temple was such a huge place, there were passages and exits that very few Jedi knew about, used in ancient times in cases of emergency. You just prayed they were still a viable option.

“Alright.” You muttered, walking discreetly to the door and peeking out. The hallway was empty and silent, a completely cold force mark. A place that was once full of life, now lay with no warmth at all. You felt your body shudder. You didn't want to imagine the horrible scenes that lurked between these rooms.

You turned to Sammi, indicating to her that all was clear. Together you left in silence, moving through the corridors of the Temple. Aside from the echo of distant footsteps and lightsabers, you had not run into anyone yet.

But every room, every corner of the place you called home... It was unrecognizable. Horror invaded your body as you found blood stains on the walls and floors. When you opened a door, your blades trembling in your hands, you found torn robes and bodies lying around.

Hundreds of Jedi, your partners that you had seen throughout your life. They were all dead. Mercilessly murdered by the people who had fought by your side for so long. What had caused this betrayal? Had they been faking it all along? Preparing to attack you at the right time?

Synchronized footsteps brought you out of your thoughts. You pulled Sammi behind a wall and took a deep breath. She was terrified, her eyes locked on you as she trembled.

“How many are there?” she whispered with ragged breaths.

You closed your eyes, connecting with the force. You tried to ignore the darkness you felt stalking your being. “Four. Are you ready?”

But there was no time for her to respond, as the clones rounded the corner. For a second they froze, until you ignited your blades and lunged towards the first one. When the second one opened fire, your body reacted before your mind.

It was a quick duel, you had no time to think or regret. At this moment the priority was to survive. It didn't matter if you were hurt by his betrayal or felt tired. You put emotions aside to concentrate.

When the last clone fell, you lowered your blades, your chest rising and falling uncontrollably.

And as you turned around, you saw Sammi. She had frozen, her hand clenched tightly around her lit lightsaber. She hadn't even made an attack, she simply hadn't moved.

You half-opened your lips, but she stepped forward. “Forgive me. I couldn't...”

You interrupted her by taking her hand. Her eyes glistened with tears and your chest sank. She didn't deserve this. To regret not being able to attack, when you as Jedi had been created to bring peace and not violence. “It's okay, don't worry.”

You shut off her blade for her, taking a deep breath. “Come on, we can't stop now.”

As you went through the temple, you were encountering a few small groups of clones. Your blades were moving almost by instinct, leaving you to the force to continue moving forward quickly.

Sammi was trying to help you, deflecting shots at first. But when the last clone of a medium-sized group fell, you saw that she was panting, her force mark full of determination. Slowly she was loosening up.

You squeezed her hand, encouraging her to continue. The deeper you went into the temple, the more impossible to bear the feeling of emptiness became. So many force marks and broken bonds, the air felt heavy from so many lost ones. You just hoped you weren't too late to reach the younglings.

“No.” Sammi's gasp made you stop walking. You turned in her direction, she had gone to a large column. You approached slowly, feeling a bad taste in your mouth and your ears vibrating.

The scene in front of you was heartbreaking. Sammi was holding a boy in her arms, about your age. You recognized him instantly, he had been in your same class, but you weren't that close.

Your friend was kneeling on the floor, one hand on his cheek, the pink of her skin contrasting terribly with the boy's pale one. They were friends, you remembered it well.

“No, no, no... Please. Bry, look at me. Don't leave me.” Her voice trembled as she caressed his face. His body was stained with blood, his eyes wide in shock, as if he hadn't expected the fate that met him.

You knelt beside her, hugging her as she sobbed. Seeing your friend suffering hurt your soul. You thought of all the people who had met the same fate. Had it been a quick death? You hoped with all your heart that it had. That he had not suffered, and that the force would always be with him.

In the midst of your thoughts, you realized something. “What the...”

Sammi noticed it too, for she fell silent. She gently laid the body on the ground, and stood up hurriedly, throwing up into a vase.

With trembling hands, you approached the corpse. And in that moment, your worst fear came true.

A clone had not killed him. That burn was too big for a blaster.

It was a lightsaber mark.

Bry had been killed by a Jedi.

You stood up in horror, your mind racing a mile a second. Who could have been able to do this?

But there was no time to think, you heard footsteps approaching. Too many for your liking. Sammi, who was in a trance, didn't move. Her eyes were full of tears. She whispered that you couldn't leave him, that you had to give him a proper end.

But that was not going to be possible. The clones were getting closer and closer, barely within sight of discovering the two of you. So, with a whimper you grabbed Sammi's arm, forcing her to run with you.

You simply moved forward, without thinking about where or how much noise you were making. You ran together without stopping, even though your legs ached and your whole body begged you for a break.

You stumbled a little, fatigue taking over your body. You apologized in your mind to your baby, who was surely suffering the consequences of all your stress. But you couldn't stop, your lives depended on this.

You exhaled as the door to the Council Chamber materialized in the distance.

There you could hide, regain your strength, and organize your escape route.

You rushed inside, closing the door instantly. Your body wouldn't stop shaking, full of adrenaline. At least now you were safe, no one would find you there. You were almost relieved.

But when you turned around, you found the worst scene of your life.

You felt bile rising in your throat as your eyes fell on the little ones lying in the center of the room. All brutally murdered.

You were late.

You brought a hand to your mouth, feeling breathless. Beside you, Sammi let out a choked scream. You felt her running towards them, but you couldn't move. You were paralyzed, your body refusing to react.

It was something no vision, no nightmare could have prevented you from seeing. The force echoed in your being, showing you the pain and fear the poor younglings had gone through.

And she was there.

Your body moved forward on its own, falling to its knees beside the little togruta. The little girl who brightened your saddest days, the one you had sworn to protect. But you had failed her.

You didn't know at what moment you had started to cry, you found out when your sobs reached your ears and tears were felt on your cheeks. You took her in your arms, so small and delicate, and hugged her. You asked her forgiveness over and over in whispers, as if she could hear you.

“My little Kyla...” You heard yourself say. “I'm so, so sorry.”

Sammi sat next to you, her eyes red. She stroked the little girl's montrals, with infinite gentleness.

“They were just children.” Her voice was hoarse. “They didn't deserve any of this.”

You nodded, your vision blurred by tears. Your heart ached so much it felt like it would burst out of your chest at any moment. You clung to the small body, as if having her there was going to bring her back.

You were silent, only your sobs echoing in the room. You don't know how long you just laid there, mourning for all that you had lost that day.

And you realized it was time. You had held on so tightly to this secret, but if you had said it earlier, maybe everything would have changed. You looked at Sammi, who had a blank stare.

“I'm pregnant.” Your voice was something less than a whisper, but she heard it. She turned abruptly to you, her eyes wide.

She blinked, as if she hadn't understood what you had just said. But when she saw your tear-filled eyes, she understood.

“What?”

"I've known for a few days now. Obi-wan..." Your voice cracked at the thought of him. You didn't even know if he was alive. "I haven't told him. I thought I had time. I thought everything would get better. I was a fool."

The next thing you felt was Sammi's arms around you tightly, your breath shaking. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, letting out a little whimper, trying not to cry again.

She didn't ask anything, just held you while you cried quietly. For what you had lost, for what you had lived through, and for the uncertain future of your child.

After a few minutes, she stroked your hair gently. “We have to go.”

You nodded, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You couldn't afford to grieve. You had to survive now. And for the life of your baby, you were going to get out of there. Whatever it took.

You struggled to your feet, your hand going to your belly intuitively. You were tired, but you were going to fight.

Before you closed the door behind you, you took one last look at the little ones. Your chest ached remembering all the moments you had spent together. You would never forget them. None of them.

Sammi looked at you, taking your hand to move forward together. You could hear footsteps in the distance, but you went with confidence, you were prepared.

The path was indeed full of different groups of clones. You let yourself be guided by the force, your body acting instinctively to face them. Next to you, Sammi moved with more agility. She was no longer the same girl paralyzed with fear - now she covered you, defended you and even launched offensive attacks.

You crossed through the training rooms, down a maintenance passageway. In the distance, the medical wing materialized. You were so close, you would soon reach the hangar.

But your luck had to run out at some point.

As you rounded the corner, a whole squadron of clones cornered you. As you turned, more came from behind. You were surrounded.

You inhaled deeply, sharing a look with Sammi. You could do this.

You ignited your sabers, the purple light from both of them glowing on the shining floors of the temple. Sammi followed you, determined.

When the shots started, you immediately focused on dodging them all, taking out a few clones as the blasters bounced towards them.

Although your body was exhausted, you relied on the force, defending yourself with agility.

Sammi was fighting by your side, her movements were much more confident and that made you proud. Yes, the clones were many. But maybe you did have a chance.

There were fewer and fewer of them left. You jumped to dodge a shot, falling behind the clone and taking him out with your saber. Your body was shaking with adrenaline as you defended yourself.

But then, the world stopped.

You watched in slow motion as Sammi was surrounded. She was dodging the blasters of one clone, and hadn't realized that behind her another was approaching. Your scream wasn't fast enough to alert her.

With a hole in your chest, you threw the clone with the force, smashing him into a wall and knocking him unconscious. You dropped your sabers, rushing to your friend in a hurry.

You held her in your arms, her trembling hand taking yours. She looked up at you, her eyes shining as she gasped from the pain.

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, and it broke your heart.

“Don't.” Your voice trembled. “Don't leave me, please.”

“You must go.” She gasped from the pain. Her eyes, always cheerful, were now losing their sparkle.

“I'm not leaving you, Sams.”

She squeezed your hand weakly. "Do it. You must protect your baby."

A tear fell down your cheek. “Please.”

She smiled at you, and you remembered the same smile from when you were little girls, playing around the temple. Now her life was ending as she lay in your arms. “Thank you for being my friend.”

And before you could beg her to stay, Sammi was gone. You felt her force mark fading, leaving an emptiness behind her.

You held back a sob, resting her cold hand against your chest. You closed your eyes, feeling the loneliness hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You kissed her forehead, shakily rising to your feet. You looked at your friend one last time, wiping away a tear with the back of your hand. Her sacrifice would not be in vain.

You grabbed your sabers, wrapping your cloak around you and moving towards the hangar. There was no time to stop now, you were so close.

You stumbled, exhaustion taking over your body. There was so little left, you motivated yourself not to fall to the ground.

You knew there were bodies beside you. You felt them in the Force, cold and empty. Corpses of masters and knights and padawans. Of children. All brutally murdered. You closed your eyes, not daring to look. If you did, you feared you would fall and never get up again.

The hangar door opened and you felt the icy night wind fall on your face. You shivered, thinking of an escape route. You could grab a ship and try to call someone. Obi-Wan. Your heart ached at the thought of him.

You stopped abruptly when you saw a figure standing in the middle of the place. It was a Jedi, covered by his cloak. You gasped, it was-

“Anakin.” Your voice cracked from relief. You felt tears forming in your eyes. At last a familiar face. Ani was alive, together you would get out of there and find Obi-Wan and...

When your friend turned around, you felt your stomach churn. The dark force around him was almost unbearable, it made you feel sick. And his eyes were yellow, lacking the brightness that once characterized them.

And you knew it.

In your mind, almost like a memory, you saw him. His fall, how he had brutally murdered everyone. The younglings.

You took a step backward, your eyes injected with tears. “No.”

“I knew you were very strong.” He had a cocky grin. “After all, we trained together.”

You looked at him in horror. “What did you do, Anakin?” it was a whisper, you didn't want to believe what your whole body and mind was telling you.

"What I had to do. To save her."

"You killed innocents. Good people who didn't deserve the fate that fell to them."

“They were all traitors!” you jumped when he raised his voice. "They all abandoned me. You abandoned me."

“I didn't abandon you.” Though you were on the verge of tears, your voice was steady. "I was always there for you, ever since we were children. I was the first one to talk to you, when everyone whispered about you." You took a deep breath, trying not to cry. "Those younglings you killed? They were the future. They were good, they were smart- you took everything from them!"

Kyla's face came to your mind. Powerful, confident, intelligent. Then you remembered her murdered body and felt bile in your throat.

“You're right.” He nodded. "You were always my best friend. That doesn't have to change." The mixture of fondness and darkness in his words turned your stomach.

He held out his hand toward you. "I know you're feeling anger and pain right now. Those emotions will only make you stronger. Join me and we will be unstoppable."

That darkness that surrounded him was beginning to lurk towards you, wanting to envelop you. It wanted you to give in to temptation and fall for it.

But then you remembered the younglings. Sammi, always excited to see you and talk to you. Padmé, her kind smile being an unconditional support for you. And Obi-Wan. His force mark, his love for you. His warmth when he hugged you and held you in his arms.

You stared at Anakin. “I would rather die than join you.”

His eyes darkened. “As you wish.”

The rest happened so quickly. He ignited his lightsaber and lunged at you wildly. You barely managed to ignite your sabers and deflect his attack, staggering under the brutal force of his onslaught.

You were used to dueling with Anakin, you had trained that way. Countless times your sabers had clashed, competing against each other to see who was the best.

But this was not the Ani you knew. Your best friend, the one you jokingly competed with and knew would never hurt you. This Anakin was attacking you aggressively, with force. To kill you.

His attacks were full of rage, with a precision that was frightening. You felt your heart pounding in your ears as you forced yourself to react, to dodge and block, even though your whole body was begging you for a simple rest.

Your senses were in automatic mode, your purple sabers clashing against his with a sound that threatened to deafen you. Another time, you might have given Anakin a fight. But your body was exhausted, and you knew that in this condition you would be no match for him. Still, you would keep trying. You were not going to give up so easily.

In one brutal move, Anakin swung his saber at you with deadly speed. You managed to block it, but his force sent one of your sabers flying into the hangar.

He laughed derisively. “You are weak.” His eyes burned with cruelty as he attacked you again.

You fought back as best you could, the blue and purple colors illuminating the dark hangar. Your mind begged for a breath, but your survival instinct was stronger.

And you were trying, you really were.

But you screamed when his saber grazed your arm, leaving a deep, smoking cut. You staggered, pressing down on the wound with a groan of pain.

Though the ache blurred your vision, you clenched the saber with your other hand. You repositioned yourself, though you knew you wouldn't last much longer.

You were going to fight for your baby and for all the fallen victims tonight. For all the lives that had been lost, and those that still had hope.

But when you raised your saber, your arm trembling, your body could stand no more.

You fell to the ground with a choked groan, your saber rolling close. Your vision filled with tears as you saw Anakin approaching, the blue light illuminating his terrifying face.

Then this would be the end.

And as he was raising his saber, ready to strike the blow that would determine your death, you decided something. You were not going to die a coward.

You raised your head, looking him straight in the eye. “What's going to happen when Padmé finds out?” You spat, his eyes going wide and instantly freezing. “Do you think she's going to love you when she discovers what you did?”

You saw his façade crack, his eyes full of doubt as he turned off his saber. But you weren't going to stop.

"You're a murderer, Anakin. She's not going to run into your arms to thank you when she finds out everything you've done." Your voice trembled. “You're a monster.”

Your words froze in your throat as he roared, and you felt the Force wrap around you brutally, something invisible closing tightly around your neck.

You gasped as you rose from the ground, your feet kicking and your hands on your throat, trying uselessly to free yourself.

Anakin's eyes glowed with pure hatred. “You don't understand anything!”

The lack of air clouded your mind, tears pooling in your eyes. Your belly ached, as if your baby sensed your despair.

You moaned in pain. You couldn't die. You wouldn't let him die with you.

So, you gathered your courage, and with what little strength you had left, you pleaded. "Wait- Wait. I'm... I'm pr-"

And he knew. Maybe in the force, he felt that little child fighting for their life. Your desperation to stay alive, just for your baby.

His eyes widened slightly, his hand trembled. And it only took a second of hesitation from him for you to fall, coughing and gasping for air.

From where you lay on the floor, you could see his figure wobble. And for a small moment, your Anakin's blue eyes came back. Staring vulnerably at you as they did thirteen years ago, when you were just children who had just met.

And perhaps in memory of the little innocents you once were, he murmured. “Run.”

You whimpered, struggling to your feet and picking up your saber. He didn't have to repeat it to you twice.

You climbed into a ship quickly, your whole body shaking. Your arm ached and you were still panting for breath, but you ignored everything to turn on the takeoff commands.

The ship powered up with a familiar hum, and for a second you felt relieved. But this was no time to relax, you had to go.

As you were about to take off, you heard familiar footsteps entering the hangar. A whole squadron of clones. You swallowed saliva, your hands shaking as you pushed buttons to speed up the ship.

“Get her.” Anakin ordered, his icy voice chilling you to the bone. You panted, your body tensing as you managed to get the ship in the air. Just a little more and you would be off the planet.

You heard ships powering up behind you, the clones preparing to follow you. And the ones that didn't were positioning themselves to shoot at you.

“Shit.” You sped up, trying to dodge the shots that were headed straight for you. At the same time, with trembling hands, you wrote down Obi-wan's personal number, the one he used only to communicate with you. You waited while it rang, begging the force to be able to talk to him. Just to know if he was alright.

Come on, my love. Answer me.

Nothing. You held back a sob, your mind overwhelmed. It was all happening too fast.

You entered the aerial streets of Coruscant, aiming to lose the clones following you. But there were too many of them.

The first shot landed on the right wing, destabilizing you. The system beeped in emergency, your attempts to deflect the attacks were in vain.

You covered your belly with your arms, preparing for the fall. You closed your eyes and concentrated to at least try to protect yourself with the Force. You prayed that this would not be the end of you.

The unbearable ringing in your ears woke you up. You raised your head, smoke covering your sight. Your forehead felt wet, surely you had hit your head and now were bleeding. You opened the hatch of the ship, the icy night air of Coruscant surrounding you.

You were dizzy, and when you tried to get up, you let out a groan of pain. The wound on your arm hurt like hell, and if you didn't clean it soon it would get infected.

In the distance, you heard clones shouting. “There's the ship!” “”Find her!"

You froze in your stall. “Kriff, kriff, kriff.”

As best you could, you got up and left the ship. You analyzed your surroundings, you knew this level of the city. But now you just had to hide.

You limped to behind a wall, where you knew the clones wouldn't see you. You spied them approaching what was left of the ship. “She's not here! Bring her!”

You held your breath until they were gone, falling to your knees in relief. Finally, perhaps you were no longer in danger.

You rose shakily to your feet, exhaustion taking almost complete hold of your being. But you had to make one last effort, until you found a safe place.

You walked slowly, your senses still alert. You had one hand on your belly, the other holding your wound. The pain and exhaustion were suffocating and made it very difficult to move forward. But at least now you knew where to go.

In the distance, an apartment building materialized. It wasn't the most luxurious, but it wasn't on one of the lower levels either. You sighed in relief, stepping inside.

You reached the fifth floor, knocking on a door decorated with flowers and artificial plants. When it opened, it revealed a pantoran with large, curious eyes. It was Shen, lady-in-waiting to Senator Riyo Chuchi and Forge's secret lover. Your heart ached at the thought of your commander. Of the clones.

But she gave you a worried look. "General? I was so scared for you."

Her sweet voice reached your ears. You understood why Forge had fallen in love with her, she was his polar opposite.

"The temple is on fire. I've been calling F- I mean, the Commander, and..." Her smitten voice and sparkling eyes reminded you of Obi-wan. The last time you saw him, the last hug you gave each other, his kiss on your forehead. You missed him so much. “General? Are you alright?”

You looked at her, but your lips came to nothing. You had used your last bit of energy, and now your body was finally ready to rest safely.

The memory of Obi-wan's smile was the last thing you saw before you fell to the floor.

next chapter 𖥔 ͙ࣳ ⸰ֺ⭑

taglist: @whisperofwild @ladywraith

© obiwansito, 2025. reposts, copies and translations are not allowed. my work cannot be used for training AI.

[awkward-tension-art]

Order 66 (tbb x Jedi!reader)

Ok, so i’ve had this idea in my head of the clones with a Jedi S/O during Order 66. I don’t mean they act on Order 66, I mean if everything sorta played out similar in canon (Chip doesn’t work)

Idk, I like me some protective boys.

CW: minimally proofread, jedi!S/O, Reader, Gender neutral pronouns, Order 66, violence, death, swearing, Hunter trying his best, Wrecker being a sweetie, Echo is ready to fight, Tech is the only one who is level headed, and Crosshair being somewhat emotional

You were following Caleb when the order came through. Your steps stumbled and your knees hit the cold ground. All around you, the Force was being ripped apart. Hands were on your shoulders. 

your lover. You barely realized through the haze.

With absolute horror, you watched helplessly as clones gunned down Depa Billaba. “Run Caleb!” You heard her scream through the overwhelming grief and death you felt. The padawan turned, lightsaber ready. 

“Get away from us!” he barked, calling your name, “Get up! Please!”

He was panicked, confused. So were you. 

You managed to look up, seeing the clone troopers across the field standing over Master Billaba’s smoking corpse. They were prepping to kill you and the padawan next.

Without another word you bolted, grabbing Caleb’s hand and sprinting to the trees. You didn’t look back. You had to make sure the kid was safe.

Hunter

“Wait!” He’ll give chase before stopping at the tree line. He had never seen you look so devastated and afraid. 

He’s going to follow you. Of course he is. He’s just as confused as everyone else. 

Until Tech finally finds out what's going on

“The Jedi have been ordered to be executed.” “Which one?” “All of them.”

“What!? Why!?” Hunter is panicked at this point. The troopers behind him have orders to kill. They won’t show you mercy. 

“Apparently they’ve committed treason.”

By the time he finds you, Caleb had already jumped across the ravine and was waiting for you. You turned, tears in your eyes.

“I can feel it…everyone is being killed.” 

“We’re going to figure this out,” He’s going to try and calm you down, “I promise, we’re going to figure this out.” His arms are around you. 

It wasn’t safe for you. Not anywhere near him and the others. He knows this. You know this. 

The two of you come up with a hurried plan.

“Go to these coordinates. Once we know what's going on, I’ll come find you.” He’ll kiss you passionately, “Get the kid and hide.” 

Hunter won’t go with you. He’s the squad leader. He can’t just go missing. 

Despite the fear that you’ll be found out, he trusts you and your skills to stay alive.

Once you jump across, he’ll watch, make sure no one follows or tries to shoot at you. 

Once he’s questioned on your whereabouts, he’s going to lie, “I managed to stab the kid and shoot the Jedi. both of them fell into the water.”

I will say, his nerves are shot until he gets to you again. 

But in the meanwhile? He’s antsy. Anxious and a tad distracted.

Also a hairs trigger from snapping.

Crosshair badgers him at Kamino and Hunter barely holds back a punch.

Hunter loves you, so damn dearly. And right now he can’t protect you because he needs to figure out what the fuck is going on.

But, after finding the truth and getting Omega, he makes a damn beeline for the coordinates he gave you.

Plus side? Caleb and Omega become friends.

Echo

What the FUCK just happend!?

He sprints into the trees to keep up, ignoring how Hunter is calling his name. 

“Echo, get back here!” 

“No.” He will cut off his comms. 

He’s an ARC trooper, he can track you to a degree. He’s not like Hunter, but he gets to the general area where you are. 

He manages to get to a clearing where you and Caleb are hiding in the trees. 

“Cyare!” Echo is clearly confused, worried and he swears he feels the same amount of death that’s overwhelmed you. 

Once you reveal yourself, his helmet is off and his arms are around you so tightly.

“I don’t know what's going on, but I’ll keep you and Commander Dume safe.”

Hunter and Crosshair catch up to you, and once Crosshair aims his blaster at you and Caleb, Echo is ready to brawl. 

He stands protectively in front of you, gun aimed at the sniper, “If your skinny ass doesn’t put the fucking gun away I swear to-!”

“Both of you stand down!” Hunter will have to get between them, because Echo is 100% willing to shoot Crosshair if it means you stay safe. 

He’s not aware Crosshair doesn't exactly have a choice at the moment.

Really no one is aware.

But he’s lost domino squad, he’s lost Fives, he's lost legion, right now his former general is probably being killed…He’s lost so much already.

He refuses to lose you too.

So Echo pulls the trigger first, settling on stunning him and making a dash towards the ravine. Hunter has to keep up.

Once Caleb is across, he’ll get meetup coordinates from Hunter.

Echo goes with you. He doesn’t return to Kamino. The moment he's across the ravine with you and Caleb he’s a deserter. 

He doesn’t care. He just doesn’t want to lose you.

He’s a strong, determined guard, and one who didn’t let you or Caleb get hurt.

Wrecker

He casts a glance at Hunter before running off after you. 

He has no idea what Order 66 is. Nor does he care.

The guy saw you so…out of it. So scared and confused.

His protective instincts have geared up to 11. 

Hunter goes with him, while Crosshair is the one who remains behind to stall.

Once Tech informs everyone that the Jedi have been named traitors and should be executed on sight, Wrecker gets serious. Very serious. 

He becomes so unlike himself, even Crosshair is surprised.

Honestly? I see Wrecker as someone willing to gun down any ‘reg’ if they’re threatening his squad or s/o. 

Even this early into the Empire.

When he sees you, he’s immediately grabbing you into his arms which causes Caleb to attack.

Admittedly he’s gonna tackle Caleb, only adding to the poor kids terror. 

“Wrecker, you're scaring him!” 

But after a strong bear hug and an “Easy kid! I’m tryna help you!” The padawan calms down enough to listen. 

He puts Caleb down, rips off his helmet and gives you one hell of a kiss. 

He’s worried. He’s scared. And he wants to protect you. 

Hunter will have to talk him down from running off with you.

The sergeant has to keep his squad together. It sucks but they need to figure out what the heck is happening at the moment.

Wrecker desperately wants to go with you but he can’t abandon his squad.

However, he feels much better once Hunter gives some safe coordinates to lay low and hide.

He’ll get you to the ravine and stand guard until you and Caleb are across and out of sight.

You bet your ass when he meets up with you again he’s not letting you go. 

Tech

He isn’t as emotional as the others at the moment. He’s actually focused on gathering as much information in the least amount of time.

He waits, listening to the comm chatter. What is going on? why?

“Execute Order 66.”

After a second, he shares a look with Hunter.

“Tech, go after-”

No more words need to be said. Tech is gone and going after you.

He’s smart. He knows your patterns. He knows where you’d most likely hide. So he focuses on that.

Once he’s confident he’s in a broad area where you and Caleb are, he’s going to call out to you, “Cyare? There’s something called Order 66 on the comms.” 

Tech gives you information first. He won’t make you reveal yourself if you don’t feel safe enough. 

When Echo announces that the Jedi have been charged with treason, he’ll relay that to you. 

“The comms say the Jedi committed treason against the Republic,” He’s going to keep looking around for you, “I know you. You’d never do such a thing. I’m here, Cyare. I can help you.”

Once you reveal yourself, Caleb behind you, he feels the biggest amount of relief. 

He pulls off his helmet, giving you a small smile.

“Tech…The Jedi…” your voice cracks, “They’re being killed…I can feel it.” 

“I know, Cyare…I’m sorry.” He tries his best to comfort you, but he knows he can never understand. 

The amount of Jedi he’s worked with can be counted on one hand. 

But he knows this is your family. Your friends. Your very life.

Once Hunter meets up with you guys, a plan can be put in place. 

He gives you coordinates for a location to meet-up and hide. You’ll lay low with Caleb.

In the meantime, Tech will return to Kamino, figure out what's happening, and from there a better, more long term plan can be made.

Before you leave though, he’s going to give you the longest, most passionate kiss he's ever given you.

He’s well aware that there's a chance you can be found and killed. 

Tech is the only one who has accepted that you may not make it out of this.

But he’s going to keep his mind occupied, distract himself until he’s by your side again. 

Crosshair

As soon as the order goes out, Crosshair is under the influence of the inhibitor chip.

He just doesn’t know. No one does at this point.

He watches you run away with Caleb and the drive to hunt you down is hard to ignore.

He needs to find you to kill you, to protect you.

But, the sudden headache he has is damn near blinding.

Crosshair follows Hunter, keeping his comms on.

He freezes when Tech finds out the Jedi have been marked for execution.

The Inhibitor Chip in his skull is contending with his feelings for you.

He needs to execute save you.

When he spots you he pulls his rifle and aims but barely manages to stop himself.

He can’t hurt you. He needs to kill loves you.

Crosshair draws some sort of conclusion that Kaminoans had conditioned all clones to follow specific orders.

He doesn’t know of the chip. He just assumes it comes from the troopers' conditioning.

When his arms are around your body, for a brief moment he thinks of snapping your neck.

Good soldiers follow orders.

He hates orders.

This is the point where Crosshair knows something is seriously wrong with him.

But he’s not going to say anything yet. He can still fight if need be.

“You need to run…hide…get away from here.” it's a rare moment that he’s scared.

The sniper is desperate to shoot protect you.

The headache is persistent, and it’s somewhat distracting.

But he’ll power through.

Crosshair will wait for Hunter to come up with…something. 

His eyes are on the area around you, gun set to kill in case any reg tries anything.

The plan? Clone Force 99 returns to Kamino while you and Caleb go into hiding. 

You have coordinates. He can find you later. 

But…well Crosshair doesn’t like that. At all.

Hear me out. Like Echo, Crosshair goes with you. He knows somethings up with him, but he trusts himself more than he trusts anyone else.

“Tell Kamino they killed me.” He instructs Hunter, “That I died trying to stop the Jedi and you managed to get justice.”

He crosses the ravine with you, only looking back to nod back to Hunter. 

By the time Crosshair, you and Caleb safely get off the planet, his headache is a small annoyance that goes away with time.

Crosshair sticks with you until he reunites with his squad and notices Omega

Welp, you got Caleb, what's one more kid?

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

Can you do a reaser g/n who is the equivalent to John wick. With Steve

♡ [TFP] STEVE/ST3V3 HCs!

anon, you asked after i said reqs were closed but i lowkey think the request is FIRE because the idea factory started going overdrive… it's kinda short though! forgive me :,,)

scenario: you're here because you get paid, a super efficent mercernary with a penchant for violence and the vehicons adore you for that, especially the one with the worst luck known to Cybertron

warnings: one sided from steve angst(?)

— He knew he wasn't supposed to, ST3V3 knew damn well he was never supposed to but how couldn't he? So what if you're a higher ranking bot and he's just an expendable clone! You technically don't have a rank though… You're just a mercenary-for-hire Megatron calls upon when everything's gone to slag. You make it clear you don't work for the tyrant and that you're only here because he has you on his payroll which all the vehicons are jealous of. But they respect it too. It makes you admirable in a way.

— And your lack of an alignment does make you a gamble for his benefactor but ST3V3 couldn't resist, even if he shouldn't. It was pathetic really, how, Pit, not even kindness but basic decency had him so utterly smitten. Only other mech was Breakdown but Breakdown was more of the pleasantries and conversation kind, you were actively saving their lives and from a trip to the medbay.

— It was the little things that really got to him. The fact that you bothered to remember the codenames of all the Vehicons you met, the way you actually tried to make sure none of them got hurt when you're one-on-one against an Autobot… And you get real violent.

— But he'd be lying if he said seeing you covered in energon wasn't ominously attractive in some strange kind of way. Maybe he's sustained too much blaster damage to his helm…

— He kinda also wants to be in the same position as those sorry Autobot troopers beneath you but in a different context.

— There's something about being treated like an actual individual that gets to him a lot. While you certainly aren’t a conversationalist, your cautiousness to make sure more Vehicons don't get terminated and the way you acknowledge their existence is sparkfelt to him. You somehow even knew who was who despite all of them looking almost alike!

— ST3V3's spark skips a beat every time you actually address him by his designation, the name he chose for himself— “Steve”. It's a bit monotone and dare he say, almost in the manner Shockwave would've said it in but even then, it gets him all giddy. Secretly of course.

— But… turns out, most of the Vehicons felt the same way about you. You are certainly a popular subject amongst them, they talk about you at least once a day. However, most of them admire only from a distance. Also, sometimes their talk about you is… less than savoury. It’s like in those movies where they go; “check out that babe over there”, cue someone whistling, “ohhh, i see that alright…”. Basically, they talk like old perverts. And they do envy ST3V3…

— Because he gets to talk to you a lot more than the rest of them. ST3V3 is known for his horrendously bad luck so you end up saving his tailpipe from more damage. Of course, you're doing this as a professional courtesy.

— They don't realize that you see them as individuals because you've never really been around drones before, you genuinely think of them as people and so, you think of them as being on the same team which is the only reason you look out for them.

— Now, ST3V3 and the other Vehicons get more reckless when they're assigned to help you out on missions you're hired for. They're endangering themselves on purpose so you could be their hero. You're like their angel. Even though you are far, far from one.

— ST3V3 still gushes thinking about that day when you held him in your servos for a brief moment when he was about to land flat onto his faceplate because of an explosion.

— At some point, you even have a chat with Megatron about how improperly trained his Vehicon troops are. Having the ball bearings to, respectfully, ask him if the Vehicons have had their combat programming curtailed. Lord Megatron could've blasted a shot right through your chassis for that one! ST3V3 is impressed by your courage. Megatron keeps you around because you're useful.

— ST3V3 is the number one culprit, he's already got terrible luck without even trying. So when you mention ST3V3 to Megatron, he's… he's confused. He has a ST3V3 in his ranks? What? Since when? Why an Earth name? And you just blink in confusion at his confusion. There's an awkward silence between the two of you. Megatron thinks you've gone off the rails by bothering to remember the names of drones. But he doesn't say that to you, judging you in silence but you can feel his judgement, heavily.

— You keep your optics peeled for ST3V3 and try to make sure he's not in a position where he's in trouble but even then, somehow, by some spark-forsaken curse or something (you're starting to believe he may actually be cursed), he still ends up in trouble! Under blaster fire, under debris, under falling Autobots. He hopes maybe someday he'll be under you instead.

— You're not an easily frustrated individual. You never really were one. So you scold ST3V3; the nicest, most polite, well-mannered and sparkfelt (his definition of sparkfelt is basic decency) way any bot as ever dared to speak to him in and he swore he fell even harder. The other Vehicons are seething in jealousy.

— Sometimes, ST3V3 fantasizes about being taken away to your world— wherever it is that you go in your spacecraft after you're done with what you were paid to do. Would you take him there? Primus, he hopes you do. But he knows it will never really happen.

— He gets easily distracted in a fight when you're there so his natural talent for finding trouble comes to him. But you're giving him a mouthful afterwards so… it's still a win in ST3V3’s book! He gets to be saved by you AND gets to hear you talk to him.

— You give ST3V3 a look of acknowledgement in the hallway once and he's been boastful about it to the other Vehicons since. His visor makes it hard for you to discern what he feels so you can't tell his excitement. They're all incredibly jealous.

— One time, he actually did something right for once and you applauded him. ST3V3 has had that memory engraved into his databanks and he's been clinging onto it for cycles.

— ST3V3 gets so awkward around you but you can't really blame him! You're intimidating. From your dark aura to the way you are on the field, it really makes you attractive and scary. Sometimes you crack a joke every now and then, it surprises him a bit but he laughs a bit. He's trying not to laugh out loud and look like a total idiot though‐ He doesn't want you to think he's even worse of an awkward clutz.

— You call him many things; trouble magnet, auto-bait, autobot detector (he's the first one to get shot at), adrenaline junkie, the world's worst good luck charm... many notable names. It's.. kinda funny though so he tries to not let it get to him. But the other Vehicons tease him with it too. Call him an actual pet-name and he will melt though. Something like 'sweetspark' and he's on his knees.

— He's so into you, it's not even funny at this point. ST3V3 wants you badly. So very badly. He gets extremely jealous when he sees Knockout try and shoot his shot at you, he doesn't really do anything about the jealousy he feels nor does he blame Knockout for even trying. He would too if he had a higher rank.

— He wouldn't actually try pursuing you though. ST3V3, as well as the other Vehicons know that they don't have a chance here. They're just Vehicon drones and they'll terminate as Vehicon drones… No matter how much they dream otherwise, the dark struggles of being a Vehicon are endless.

okay guys i'm still not done with OG batch of requests, ik i said i'd only be taking ten but there was an excess amount. so i did the ones that i felt i could write quickly first and moved onto the ones i feel would require more detail and my own special touch last. also pls, pls don't request when requests are closed :(( i feel inclined to write them and end up feeling bad when i don't... theres just like three more though so im good, cooling extra special for my moots :P

[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…”

[vizslasaber]

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── i.

summary: after landing on the umbaran surface, you butt heads with your fellow general—but get along swimmingly with your temporary clone captain.

pairing: captain rex x female jedi!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: combat/action, mentions of injury + death, krell being a bitch, reader with a name instead of y/n because i hate it

a/n: it’s back!!! previously i posted this series on my main, @brrmian, but i changed that blog’s username and have mostly shifted over to fanart and general SW content. i’ve decided to dedicate this new side blog’s content entirely to fic writing under my old username, posting reader insert on here and everything else on ao3! this fic will be updated sparsely but definitely more often than it was on my main. i’ve changed a few things regarding the plot of this series specifically, and i like it a lot more now!!

series masterlist | click here to add or remove yourself from the taglist!

You hadn’t wanted to leave the Temple behind—you still don’t, even lightyears away from the Core.

When the Jedi Council had first made you aware of the plan to have you and a Master you’d never met capture an Umbaran airbase with troops that were not your own, you had put up something of a fight. What right, you demanded, did the Chancellor have the right to simply pull a Jedi from their sacred duty for a trivial air-to-ground assault?

The Council had either not wanted to answer this question or had not known how to, so now you stand on a transport gunship with two clone troopers and an intimidatingly tall Besalisk Jedi Master by the name of Pong Krell. Both of you are holding onto the grab handles hanging from the ceiling; you’re gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles are slightly pale, but Krell looks perfectly steady.

Of course he is, you think bitterly. He has four arms.

The atmosphere of Umbara is breathable but strangely thick—fog seeps through the blast door openings, and the lights inside the gunship’s passenger bay seem to have dimmed. Your lightsabers bump against your hips and you wince slightly as sounds of frantic gunfire reach your ears.

This will be your first campaign.

You have seen death before, on missions as a Padawan before the war—but never on this scale, if the reports of your already-knighted friends from the Temple are anything to go by. You only hope that you will be assigned your own battalion soon, so you don’t have to go running around replacing wayward Generals.

It’s hard, standing at the side of an imposing Master, not to feel like a Padawan. The skin behind your right ear burns with the memory of the braid that had been there just last week, waiting to be sheared off as you prepared for your ascension to Knighthood.

While your battalion assignment is pending, Master Windu told you as you stood in the center of the Council Chamber, the Senate has requested that we send two Jedi Knights to replace Skywalker on Umbara.

Master Krell is already on-world, assisting Master Kenobi, but he will need another Jedi’s help if he and the 501st are to take the capital in Skywalker’s stead, Master Plo explained, his hologram flickering as he called in from some faraway world.

All due respect, Masters, you remember asking as you willed yourself not to tremble, but why me? I’ve never been anywhere near the front. I wouldn’t be much help.

Believe in your potential, we do, Master Yoda said. An opportunity for you to do good, the Force has given you.

And that, it was decided, was that.

Even now, after meditating on your anxiety for practically the entire journey through hyperspace, your nerves feel impossibly frayed. The transport jostles, but you only sway slightly, arm already holding onto an overhead handle for balance. There’s a shiny new military-issue commlink attached to your right vambrace. A morbid thought, of calling in a medevac for injured soldiers with this very communicator, crosses your mind—but you let it dissipate.

The gunship suddenly makes a sharp dive, and your stomach swoops—you must be about to land. You spare a glance at General Krell, who has now let go of the grab handles and has crossed all four of his arms over his chest. For a moment, you’re almost tempted to ask how he manages to stay so balanced while the ship is moving, but then the blast doors slide open and the gunship lands in shadowy darkness.

The first person you see is Anakin Skywalker. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger—despite having been knighted several years earlier, as one of the first Padawan victims of the Jedi Military Integration Act. Your Master, ever traditional even when the Order began to stray from its centuries-old teachings, did her best to keep you apprenticed for as long as possible, but even that eventually proved futile.

In the end, you and Anakin are practically of the same age, and yet he has infinite more experience than you. Uncertainty wheedles its way into your chest and slips a pin into your lungs; you’re holding your breath as you follow Krell off the gunship.

Being far shorter than the Besalisk, you have to jump down. When you hit the ground, you shiver at the misty atmosphere, watching as bioluminescent specks of dust fly up underneath your boots.

As the two of you approach, you hear the troopers of the 501st legion mutter amongst themselves, but you push it aside and focus on the pleasantries.

“General Krell. General Neridian,” Anakin says, smiling graciously. “My thanks for the air support.”

“Indeed, General Skywalker,” Krell replies, bowing politely. “The locals have proven to be more resourceful than we anticipated.”

“We managed to get here in one piece, though,” you add jokingly, and Anakin smirks, his eyes twinkling. You gesture to the troopers unloading the gunship behind you. “And we brought ration resupplies.”

Anakin nods appreciatively, then raises one eyebrow after a moment, looking slightly confused. “But—that’s not the reason for your visit.”

“No,” Krell admits. “The Council has ordered you back to Coruscant, effective immediately.”

“What?” Skywalker demands. “Wh-why?”

“The Chancellor...” you pause, searching for a word, before you settle on, “insisted that you return. The Council had no say on the matter.”

“That is all they would tell us,” Krell adds, though he doesn’t sound displeased.

“Well, I—I can’t just leave my men!” Anakin protests, and for the first time you notice the trooper standing at attention beside him.

He’s identical to all the clones you’ve met, of course, except for one detail—his hair is blond. You wonder vaguely if it would be polite to ask him whether or not it’s natural as you survey his armor. The pauldron on his left shoulder indicates a position of command, but he carries a sense of individuality in the Force that, despite your inexperience with working with them, you’ve come to realize every clone has. His helmet is painted with a distinctly Mandalorian sigil, but it’s not one you recognize.

His gaze is pointed directly ahead; he makes no eye contact with you. Probably just as annoyed at the change of plans as Anakin is, you realize.

Krell moves to speak, jolting you from your thoughts. You recognize Anakin’s agitation, however, so you calmly move to intercept.

“The Council would not just leave your troopers to fend for themselves—not that they aren’t perfectly capable of doing so, of course,” you add, which merits the barest hint of a smile from the trooper standing beside Anakin. “It’s just… well, the Senate needs a Jedi to be at the head of every campaign, and I guess they figured subtracting one of you would mean—”

“—adding two other Jedi,” Anakin says with a snort of derision. “Yeah… sounds like the Senate. But you guys’ll probably get it done faster anyway.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, sir,” interjects the trooper, and Anakin looks to him. “We’ll have this city under control by the time you’re back.”

“Generals, this is Captain Rex, my first in command,” Anakin says fondly, and you see something like pride show itself in Rex’s eyes. “You won’t find a finer or more loyal trooper anywhere.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you affirm earnestly.

“Yes, that is good to hear,” Krell agrees, then places a large hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I wish you well, Skywalker.”

Anakin simply nods at him, then stops beside you and says, “I hear you passed the Trials.”

You gesture to your hair, now void of a Padawan braid. “Apparently so,” you reply. “Funny, I didn’t think you were one to get swept into the rumour mill.”

A grin, boyish and bright, springs to Anakin’s face. “Nah, I’m always one for good gossip.” His expression turns softer, then, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, though… congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you say, but he’s already approaching the gunship and taking hold of one of the grab handles. The ship is off within seconds, and you can’t help but feel apprehensive as it flies away, up into the fog.

Taking a moment to gather yourself, you turn to Rex and offer a polite nod. He returns it, then says, “It is an honour to be serving with you, Generals.”

“The honour is all mine,” you return graciously, and Rex looks like he’s about to say something else, but stops when Krell begins to speak.

“I find it very interesting, Captain, that you are able to recognize the value of honour,” he begins, then—almost as an afterthought—adds, “for a clone.”

Silence.

Your eyebrows shoot up, and as Rex stares at Krell in shock, you feel your armored chest tighten—with frustration or shock, you don’t yet know.

“Stand at attention when I address you,” Krell snaps, turning to face the other troopers, and as Rex obliges, you narrow your eyes and step forward.

“Master Krell,” you start, your jaw tightening, “I do believe it would be far more... prudent to show respect to the soldiers who have so graciously agreed to undertake this mission with us.” You tilt your head questioningly, sending your ponytail swaying. “After all—we are the ones who just arrived.”

A ripple of white-hot anger moves through the Force with lightning speed, but it’s gone before you can take time to process it. Now, all you can feel is something akin to gratitude, trickling like a cool waterfall from where Rex stands, back straight and eyes ahead.

“They agreed to nothing,” Krell counters, and you blink as his wide upper lip curls back to reveal a row of dangerously sharp teeth. “Do not forget, young one, that we are the Generals they serve under at present.”

“I...” you pause, momentarily at a loss for words, then clasp your hands behind your back and force your jaw to unclench. “I haven’t forgotten that. But I also haven’t forgotten that the only way to succeed in this endeavour is to work together.”

“And with what experience do you so kindly bestow this advice upon us, Knight Neridian?” Krell asks, and the question is like a bucket of ice water down the back of your robes.

You swallow, and search for the words to say, but none come. Cheeks burning with shame, you stare determinedly at the ground.

The tension in Krell’s Force signature disappears, as sudden as the crack of a whip, and he draws in a deep breath. You look up as the pouch-like piece of flesh under Krell’s chin grows in size and he begins to pace.

“Nevertheless,” Krell brushes off, acting as though none of your words register with him, “there’s a reason my command is so effective, and it’s because I do things by the book.” He walks past a soldier in an ARC Trooper uniform who has the number five tattooed on his right temple. The trooper doesn’t move as Krell passes him, but you can see a vein on his forehead bulge.

“And that includes protocol,” Krell puts in. He turns to you. “Have all platoons ready to move out immediately.”

You bristle. “I—I thought we were to make decisions together,” you protest, raising your chin defiantly.

Technically, there’s nothing to defy, seeing as you hold equal rank with Krell—but the Council specified in their briefing that this was supposed to be a learning experience, an introduction to combat before receiving your own battalion. And something about Master Krell demands respect, or at the very least obedience, despite the fact that you’re starting to want to do everything you can not to give it to him.

Krell simply huffs and turns around, his yellow eyes flashing, and walks away, leaving you surrounded by a platoon troopers.

You frown after him. “Well, now I know why Master Venn wished me good luck,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Some of the troopers snicker, but you hardly notice.

Your former master, Esya Venn, had pulled you aside just before leaving. The look on her face had been nothing short of concerned, but you’d shrugged it off in the moment, even when she’d told you to be careful, Padawan. She never told anyone to be careful—it was simply a reflex to think twice about your actions around Esya.

But now you understand.

Scrubbing a hand over your tired face, you take a deep breath and turn to Captain Rex. “Shall we set off?” you ask, and he nods, promptly putting on his helmet.

“Move out, soldiers!” he shouts, starting down the path after Krell. “Come on, let’s go!”

You give Rex a grateful smile, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s returning it. With one last glance at the battalion, you hurry to the front and fall into step next to General Krell.

It’s silent for some time. Krell doesn’t deter, no matter how dark it gets, and after a while you begin to grow uncomfortable next to him. The anger you’d felt in the Force earlier is dormant, but certainly there, and it makes chills erupt down your spine.

"I’m going to check on the Captain,” you say, and Krell only nods when you turn around and quickly find Rex, who’s walking about two meters behind where you previously were.

The Captain salutes briefly. “General.”

“Captain,” you reply politely, before glancing back at Krell. “I can’t help but notice that there’s—” you pause for a moment. Do these troopers know enough about the Force to have conversations with you about it?

Knowing Anakin, you realize, they probably do, so you clear your throat and continue. “I get a strange feeling from Master Krell,” you say quietly.

Rex’s shoulders relax just slightly. “How so, sir?”

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I don’t know, exactly,” you reply, then gesture vaguely in front of you, where Krell is half-visible in the murky fog. “The Force around him is unclear. It’s... hard to explain.”

“Hard to explain, as in it’s a Jedi thing?” Rex guesses, and you grin widely.

“Yes,” you say. “It’s a Jedi thing.” Reaching up, you curl a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I may not be a Jedi, sir,” Rex says after a moment, “but I think I know what you mean by strange feeling.”

“Quicken that pace, battalion!” Krell suddenly shouts over his shoulder, and you jump. “This isn’t some training course on Kamino.”

You sigh and raise your voice, turning to the troopers. “What General Krell means,” you call, pointedly shooting a glare at the Besalik’s back, “is that we must continue to make good time. Keep up the good work.”

Krell gives no answer, but you feel a ripple of frustration coming from his direction. There’s another thread in the Force, one of gratitude, but you can’t tell where exactly it’s coming from. You latch onto it nonetheless and file the feeling away for later, letting yourself make an easy pace just ahead of Rex.

“He certainly has a way with words,” you hear one of the clones say, and when you glance behind you out of the corner of your eye, you can see that the source is someone with similar armor to Rex’s. Another ARC, or someone of similar rank.

There’s a sigh. You think it’s from Rex. The troopers obviously don’t know you’re listening, so you direct your gaze ahead, keeping your pace steady.

“He’s just trying to keep us on schedule,” Rex explains, voice hushed and sounding a bit sheepish.

"By raising everyone’s ire?” the other trooper grumbles.

“Either way, he’s in charge,” Rex protests. “And we’ve got a job to do.”

“She’s in charge, too,” hisses the trooper, and you purse your lips, knowing he’s pointing to you.

Another sigh, again from Rex. “Just—treat them both with respect, and we’ll all get along fine.”

You’re about to turn around when your neck stiffens. It’s an instinctual reaction, like the Force tapping you on the shoulder—one that you’ve learned to interpret as a warning. Less than a second later, a loud screech echoes above your head.

“Ready your weapons!” Rex shouts, at the same moment you draw one lightsaber.

Faster than your eyes can process, a winged creature swoops down and grabs a trooper—but you don’t need your eyes. The cyan beam of your lightsaber casts a glow on the shadowy ground, and you jump upwards, landing on a large plant that allows you to swing from a vine and graze the blade across the wing of one of the creatures. It falls to the ground with another screech before flying away, relatively unharmed.

One to go.

You’re about to grab hold of a second vine and swing towards the other creature, but a flash of blurred blue and green makes you pull back—Krell beats you to it, landing on top of the creature and wrestling it to the ground.

“Wait—stop!” you shout as he draws his lightsabers, but it’s too late. He’s already skewered the creature mercilessly, and it lies dead on the ground, life blinking out of the Force in an instant.

You jump off of the large plant, landing on both feet, and hook your now deactivated lightsaber onto your belt. “Why did you kill it?” you demand, pushing past several onlooking clones.

“It is nothing more than a violent inhabitant of this area,” Krell dismisses, and you feel your jaw drop.

“But…” you start, at a loss for words. “The Code decrees—”

“The Code,” Krell says coldly as he turns to stare at you, “allows for self defense.”

You draw yourself up to your full height, switching off your lightsaber with a snap-hiss before hooking it back onto your belt. “That’s not what—”

Krell’s lightsabers deactivate loudly, cutting you off, and he returns them to either side of his belt before turning away and continuing on the path. “Anyone else want to stop and play with the animals?”

No one answers, but you feel your fists clench as if of their own accord.

This is going to be a long night.

Umbara’s plant life is fascinating. Observing the bioluminescent life forms is the only thing that serves a proper distraction from both the grumbling clone troopers and the pit of apprehension in your stomach. You’d been walking for twelve hours, give or take, and every time you’d tried to suggest a break to Krell, he’d snapped at you.

This can’t be allowed, you think bitterly, skipping over a glowing pink tree root, boots skidding on the dark purple ground.

You chew on your bottom lip and glance at the clones behind you. They are understandably worn out, and even with the extensive survival training Master Esya drilled into you as a Padawan, you were starting to get tired, too.

“Sir,” says a voice from behind you, and you jump, expecting in your exhaustion to see Krell—but it’s just Rex.

“We’ve been keeping this pace for almost half a rotation,” Rex points out, sounding vaguely nervous. “The men are... starting to tire. General Krell is...” he tilts his head, expressionless visor unreadable. “You know.”

You muster a smile, hoping you look at least a little like Master Enya, and nod.

“I know, Captain,” you say, and he shifts slightly, as though his blue-painted pauldron is uncomfortable. You can’t blame him. Running a hand over your ponytail, you blow out a breath and frown at the puff of air that appears in front of you. “Let me talk to him. Tell the men to start searching for a good spot to camp for a few hours.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Rex giving an affirmative thumbs up to the troopers behind him, but by then you’re already approaching Krell, clasping your hands tightly behind your back.

“Master Krell,” you start, and Krell turns his head just a bit. “I’ve told the men to scout for a place to rest. I reviewed the mission plan on the way here, and we can spare three hours without being delayed, possibly more—”

“The men don’t need rest,” Krell interrupts, and you feel your cheeks flush with anger. “They need resolve to complete the task at hand.”

“Apologies, Master,” you say, squaring your shoulders as frustration heats your neck and face. You breathe deeply. There is no emotion, only peace. “But I don’t think the men will be on their best game when we reach the capital if they don’t take some time to gather themselves.”

“That they need to ‘gather themselves’ is a sign of weakness,” Krell cuts in, stopping and turning to face you with a sneer. “That is not what these clones were bred for.”

Not far away, many of the soldiers bristle at Krell’s choice of words, but you keep your focus on the yellow eyes staring you down for the second time that night.

“They weren’t bred to be mindless droids, either,” you argue, crossing your arms over your chest and making sure to keep your voice even. “And in case you’ve forgotten, even battle droids need to recharge. If we march on the Capital without any sort of break first, I promise you, this mission will not go as planned. Exhausted and underfed soldiers are a guaranteed disadvantage.”

Krell studies you, a sneer forming on his lips. “I see you take after your Master’s incessant need to get the last word on anyone she disagrees with.”

You scowl. “I beg your pardon, but Master Venn is—”

He ignores you, cutting past where you stand and walking away. “Do what you wish, Neridian,” he dismisses, then walks away to stand by a glowing tree.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you close your eyes. It’s becoming harder and harder not to snap at him—but you know what the Order’s teachings require of you. Emotion, yet peace.

You grimace as Krell retreats to the back of the line, then turn back to the troopers nearby and give Rex a nod. The captain returns it in what you hope is a grateful manner, then calls for the men to make camp at the top of the ridge your group has been climbing.

By the time you gather all the troopers together, the battalion has put together a hasty campsite, with half the troopers having fallen into a fitful sleep and the other half keeping watch while eating as many rations as the limit allows. You frown and approach the trooper you heard Rex talking to earlier, his Force signature familiar from when you were eavesdropping. His helmet is now sitting in his lap, being meticulously cleaned with what little supplies the battalion has on hand.

You study the soldier. He has a tattoo on his right temple, and upon studying it, you realize it’s the same ARC trooper who’d been glaring at Krell when you stepped off the gunship. You wonder what significance the number five has to him.

Taking another step forward, you clear your throat. “Trooper,” you begin, and the soldier looks up curiously before abruptly shooting to his feet and snapping off a salute. You wave a nonchalant hand. “No need for that. I only wanted to ask a favor—can you gather troopers to stand watch? Six at a time, tops, and make sure they take turns so everyone can rest. That includes you.”

“You got it, sir,” says the trooper, and you smile.

“Sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name...” you say, then, and the trooper blinks.

“Oh, uh—it’s Fives, sir.”

“I see,” you reply, gaze flickering to his tattoo and back again. “Thank you, Fives.”

You retreat to your own tent soon after, shrugging off your vambraces and arranging them neatly next to your bedroll. This wouldn’t be the shortest sleep cycle you’d had, what with the nature of your apprenticeship at the temple—but not the longest, either.

From what you can hear inside your tent, the camp is silent. Slowly, you poke your head through the canvas flaps to find exactly six men—as you’d requested—sitting in the center of camp. Farther away, at the outskirts of the circle of tents, sits Master Krell’s hulking form. In spite of yourself, you frown.

“General?” asks a sudden voice above you; letting out an involuntary yelp, you scramble backwards before stopping at the sight of Rex standing near the entrance to your tent.

Embarrassed, you stand up, brushing off your cream-coloured robes. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I could swear I’m not usually so jumpy, I don’t know what—” you look up and stop short.

Rex has removed his helmet.

His blond hair isn’t a surprise this time around, but close up, you’re struck by how tired he looks. There are smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but his face is cast in exhausted shadows.

You wonder if a full night’s sleep is something he’s ever had, or if the training regiments on Kamino prepared him and his brothers for this kind of halfhearted sleep cycle. Curiously, you study him.

Rex’s eyes are golden-brown in the dying light of this shadowy planet. They’re the same shade as all the troopers in the immediate vicinity. And yet, as you stare into them, something in you stirs as your Force signature brushes against his—something you know you’re not supposed to feel.

“Er, General,” Rex repeats, jolting you from your faraway thoughts. “I just wanted to let you know—the scouts are detecting a clear journey from here on out. We have approximately four hours to kick back, as predicted.”

Hurriedly, you turn away and clear your throat awkwardly. “Very good, Captain,” you mumble. “Thank you. You’re—erm, free to go and rest.”

For a moment, Rex looks surprised, but he composes himself seconds later. “Thank you, General,” he says. “But I—”

“Not up for debate,” you interrupt, holding your hand up. Bemused, Rex blinks, so you shoot him a reassuring smile. “You said it yourself: the soldiers need rest. You’re a soldier, yes?”

Rex opens his mouth, probably to say something about him being a Captain, but you lower your hand to rest it on his shoulder. The kind gesture seems to quell him, so you continue. “Don’t exclude yourself in that. Rest well, Captain.”

When you turn and reenter your tent, you don’t catch the way Rex’s eyes linger on the closed flap for far longer than they should, heat prickling up his neck as the remnant of your touch burns itself through his pauldron.

“You too… General.”

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[starrylothcat]

Hey hey! Love your writing!

I wanted to ask for some nsfw headcannons for Wolffe, Cody, and Rex. Where their F!Jedi reader keeps force projecting different sex scenes of them together during a briefing; with the boys trying to keep it together during the briefing and their reactions/what they say to her after.

I also just wanted to say, that you are one my favorite TCW/TBB writers on Tumblr!

Distractions - NSFW Headcanons with Cody, Wolffe, and Rex

Summary: You decide to spice up a pre-mission briefing meeting by projecting naughty visions to your clone, knowing you’ll pay for it later.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Absolute filth. Smut. No real plot. Dom vibes from Wolffe and Cody, slightly rough handling but everything consensual. Fingering, oral, PiV sex. Reader a Jedi, not described in detail.

Pairings: Cody x Fem!JediReader, Wolffe x Fem!JediReader, Rex x Fem!JediReader

WC: Around 2,000 total (bullet points)

A/N: Let me tell you, the squeal I squealed when I got this ask! Thank you for this filthy request, anon! And thank you for your even kinder comment, I was having some self-doubt in my writing lately and I’m glad that you are enjoying my silly little stories, it means a lot to me and I love writing for y’all!

This is pure smutty goodness below the cut, I hope it’s what you envisioned. I had fun writing this for sure! I kinda got carried away with Rex, oops. Enjoy! 💛

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

💛 Cody 💛

He is a tough man to crack.

He’s always the Marshal Commander, taking his duties seriously on and off the battlefield.

You started innocently, visions of you kissing up and down his torso, slowly taking off his armor and blacks, fondling his cock, whispering how good of a girl you’ve been and that you’re ready to please your Commander in any way.

Cody didn’t even look at you, though you saw his hand twitch slightly at his side.

You smiled to yourself, projecting a more enticing scene into his mind.

This time, you were sucking his cock, his gloved hand wrapped in your hair, mumbling how amazing your lips felt around him, how much he was going to reward you later for being so good to him.

Still, nothing. Though his jaw seemed tense as he listened to Obi-Wan go over battle plans.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game, an exceedingly dangerous game, one that you will be thouroughly punished for later.

The thought shot a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, upping the ante again, needing him to crack.

The next image was of you, laying on his bunk, pleasuring yourself, two fingers deep inside your sopping pussy, your other hand pinching and tweaking your nipples writhing and moaning in pleasure, getting off completely fine without his assistance.

Since my Commander can’t be bothered to help me, I have to take matters into my own hands…

You held that teasing, lewd image in his mind, and you could almost feel the blade of his stare pierce straight through you as he finally made eye contact across the room.

It was a simple gesture that said so much, and you knew you had him.

After the meeting, you went straight to your personal quarters, knowing he wouldn’t be too far behind.

As your door hissed closed behind you, it was open again, and Cody had you pinned to a nearby wall so fast you barely had time to register what was happening.

Cody was deadly silent as he crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue clashing as his armored body pressed into your robed one.

You smirked against his lips as he pulled away for air, your lungs burning. “Cody-“

Cody growled as he flipped you around, your face pressed up agains the wall, tugging down your robes, revealing your ass to him and your glistening pussy.

He gave your ass a solid smack, his lips against your ear, heavy and commanding.

“You’re not getting away with this.”

You sighed in both pain and pleasure, hearing the clunk of his codpiece hitting the floor, his fingers gripping your ass hard as he rubbed his rigid cock at your entrance.

“Is this what you wanted?” He husked, “to be filled by your Commander? To beg for this cock? Oh, mesh’la, you’ll be begging.”

You let out a whine as he teased your dripping entrance with his cockhead, already thinking you maybe took it a little too far with your visions, knowing he was a man true to his word.

It was too late now.

“Cody, please, I need-“

Smack! Another slap to your ass, his other hand wandering between your folds.

“Only good, obedient girls get this cock. After that stunt in the comm room, you have a lot to make up for.“

He swiped a finger over your clit, causing you to cry out, your body twitching, unable to move much between the wall and his solid form behind you.

He roughly rubbed your clit, pushing two fingers into your entrance, immediately finding the spongy spot that made you see stars.

“You’re soaking, mesh’la, so needy for me.”

You could feel your release coming quickly, choking out his name as his other hand groped at your breast.

Cody knew you were close, feeling you tighten around him, your high pitched moans giving you away.

Cody removed his fingers right as you were about to reach your peak.

You whimpered, trying to lean back against him, desperate for your release, for anything.

Cody spun you around again, pressing his gloved fingers soaked with your juice to your lips.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you cum. You haven’t proved yourself to me, though. Now be a good girl, and clean me up.”

You licked his gloved fingers clean, tasting yourself and giving him a little show of what you could do with your tongue, if you let him.

Cody’s eyes darkened, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a line of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.

“On your knees, mesh’la. Like I said, you have a lot to make up for.”

🖤 Wolffe 🖤

The image you projected was absolutely filthy.

Your hands were pinned behind your back by his large hand, the other pressing between your shoulder blades keeping you down on the bed as he pounded into you from behind.

You were shamelessly moaning his name like a dirty Holofilm star, crying out for him to go harder, faster.

You stood at attention, casually glancing at him, noticing a bead of sweat forming at Wolffe’s temple.

You could sense he was trying his best not to leap over the holomap and ravage you in front of everyone.

You decided he had enough of the first fantasy, briefly closed your eyes, projecting another scene into his mind.

You were on your knees in front of him, your mouth open as he shoots ropes of cum all over your face, greedily lapping it up, kissing up and down his still-hard cock, begging for more.

Wolffe’s eyes flashed at you, his cybernetic eye and scar making him look more dangerous than usual, his eyes narrowing.

Got him.

You were enjoying watching him keep it together, a vein bulging at his forehead, his neck tense as he stood at attention, listening to Master Koon’s hologram.

You knew you were in for it after the meeting.

That was the entire point.

Wolffe was practically kicking down the door to your personal quarters after the meeting, pinning you to your bed, his mouth ravaging yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck, hard.

He had your wrists held above your head with one hand, his grip like iron.

There was no escape.

“What was that?” He growled as he continued the assault on your neck, his hand tightening even more around your wrists that were wiggling to get free.

You whined as his hand that was digging into your waist moved under your robes, up toward your breasts.

“Answer me, mesh’la. Or you won’t get what you so obviously want.”

His gloved touch left a trail of fire on your skin, sending goosebumps across your body and a jolt of arousal straight to your pussy, your panties wet at the anticipation.

“You looked bored during the meeting.” You smirked at up at him, breathy pants leaving you as he touched you. “Thought you could use some entertainment.”

Wolffe’s gaze darkened at your teasing tone, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Without warning, he ripped open the front of your robes, yanking down your breast band.

You yelped as he attacked your breasts with this lips and teeth, leaving more marks for him to gently kiss over later when he was through with you.

“Do you want my cum, mesh’la? Is that what you want?” Wolffe grunted against your flushed skin as he switched to your other breast.

You gasped a yes, his teeth expertly nipping and tugging at your sensitive bud.

You writhed, your wrists still restrained above your head by his strong hand.

“I’ll fill your mouth to the brim, and you’ll swallow every drop, isn’t that right you filthy girl?”

You nodded, almost delirious just at his mouth on your nipples. He hadn’t even really started touching you yet.

“And then I’ll fill that pretty pussy of yours, but only if you behave. Will you behave for me?”

“Y-yes!” Your voice cracked, needing him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name. 

“Yes…?” He stopped, his predatory gaze locking on you.

“Yes…Commander.”

“Good girl.”

Wolffe continued ravaging your breasts, your mewls filling the room.

“Please, I want your cock inside me, I want you to cum so deep inside me, Wolf-Commander. I’ll be good, I promise…”

Wolffe released your wrists, your hands finally free.

“You haven’t been good though, you knew that the second you invaded my mind with those visions.”

Wolffe sat up, and began removing his armor. You forgot it was even still on.

“I’ll make sure you’re properly punished for such distractions, and then I’ll decide when you’re ready for my cock.”

You shivered at his promise as he climbed over you, just in his blacks, the outline of his rigid cock straining against the fabric.

“I dunno, Commander. You seem to be all bark and no bite.” You teased, knowing you were getting yourself into even more trouble.

A dark chuckle reverberated in his chest, ripping your pants and panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

Wolffe grasped your thighs, biting down into the soft flesh of your inner leg, earning a loud yelp from you as his tongue eased the first of many marks he will leave on your body.

“Be careful what you wish for, mesh’la.”

💙 Rex 💙

You had him sweating and fidgeting as Rex tried to keep a straight face in the briefing room.

Rex was attempting to listen to the mission report, but your vision in his mind was proving to be quite the distraction.

You were on his face, his hands grasping your thighs as he feasted on your pussy from below.

“Rex, oh kriff, more, please, I need your big cock, I want you to ruin me.”

Rex gave you a desperate look from across the room, slightly shaking his head.

You ignored his pleading glance, changing the vision.

Now, you were splayed out on his desk in his private Captain’s quarters, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you, your back arching as you rubbed your clit, cumming over and over again around him.

His desk was dripping with your juices, your breasts bouncing almost comically as you cried out his name, hamming up the vision to see Rex squirm.

Rex suddenly coughed, everyone in the room looking at him momentarily.

You rocked on your heels, hands behind your back, pretending to listen as the pre-mission brief continued, completely innocent.

Finally, the meeting ended.

You exited the room, Rex quickly walking past you.

“My office. Now.” He hissed quietly, before being called over by Anakin to discuss further plans.

When Rex opened the door to his office, you were sitting at his desk, waiting for him.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, General.” Rex strode up to you, placing his hands on his desk, leaning over toward you.

You loved it when he used his serious Captain voice on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”

“You know.” His voice dropped an octave, husky and gruff, just how you liked it.

“You’ll have to elaborate. I can’t read minds.”

Rex stood up straight, his expression unreadable. You continued to sit in his chair as he walked around the desk and over to you.

Rex leaned down again, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, caging you in.

For a moment, you thought he was actually upset with you. You felt guilty, maybe you did take it too far in the meeting.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Rex spoke first.

“I think you can, mesh’la. How else would you know those visions are what I think about doing to you every waking moment?”

His lips were hovering centimeters from yours, a quiet gasp leaving your lips, your body quivering at his statement.

Oh, he liked it.

His breath fanned over your face, feeling your panties dampen, his usual soft eyes glazed over with lust.

You leaned forward to close the small distance, wanting to taste him, but he pulled away, avoiding your kiss.

“Mmm, mesh’la. You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” Rex purred in your ear, his gloved hand snaking up your neck, tilting your head to the side.

He placed a hot kiss right below your ear, lazily licking your neck.

“Rex…” you sighed, grasping at his shoulder pads, his teeth grazing your skin, his lips pressing to the side of your jaw.

“You want something from me?” He removed himself from you, kneeling between your legs.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. I could write you up for what you did back there.”

Rex hooked his fingers under your pants, pulling them down your legs. You lifted your ass, helping him remove your lower clothes.

“Yeah? What would the report say?” You shuddered as Rex began lavishing your bare thighs, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling as he slowly made his way up to your aching apex.

You could feel Rex smirk against your skin.

“My General coercing me into questionable situations. Inappropriate use of Jedi abilities.”

Rex stopped right at your core, aching and throbbing for him. You could feel his breath on your pussy, desperate now for any friction.

You let out a frustrated whine as Rex kissed your inner thigh, ignoring where you needed him most.

“Rex…”

“Patience, mesh’la. You need a lesson in discipline, it seems.”

Rex brushed his nose against your clit, your hips instinctually bucking up toward him, your hands grasping at his buzzed hair.

You groaned impatiently as he gently kissed your labia, touching you everywhere but your clit.

“You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” He rumbled into your core, a finger now teasing your entrance.

You panted, knowing you asked for this, that you deserved this, but you could still protest to his teasing.

“Captain, please…” You begged, shifting your hips, hoping he would press his finger knuckle deep inside you.

Rex continued to just tease your entrance with his finger tip, slowly circling, not quite pressing all the way inside.

“Kriff, you’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? Do you want to cum over and over again on my cock?”

You nodded, heavy pants the only sound able to leave your lips as he finally pressed his finger inside.

“Use your words, is that what you want?”

Rex’s lips were brushing over your clit, the teasing almost too much.

“Y-yes! Please, Rex, I need you inside me!” Your words came out as a garbled cry as he suddenly sucked on your clit, adding a second finger to your pussy, stretching you so deliciously you thought you might cry, pleasure shooting up your spine.

And his cock wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’ll get my cock, mesh’la, don’t worry. But first, I want you to cum just like this.” Rex added a third finger, his tongue and lips circling your clit, your vision white from the pleasure as you squirmed and writhed in his chair, totally at his mercy, your orgasm building quickly.

You came apart on his fingers, shaking and sobbing his name, pleasure coursing through you as Rex’s fingers and mouth worked you through your first orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Rex’s pupils were blown with desire, licking his lips as he cleaned you up, his baritone voice was laden with desire, his control now gone.

You barely had time to come down from you high as Rex easily lifted you onto his desk, removing his codpiece in a flash, pulling down his blacks far enough for his flushed, dripping cock to spring free.

“And you’re going to cum again, and again, and again. Are you ready, mesh’la? This is what you asked for.”

Your answer was a cry of his name, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed into you, starting a devastating pace, fucking you exactly like you showed him in your vision.

Your last coherent thought before being so thoroughly fucked and blissed out by your Captain was that you should definitely tease him like this more often.

Tag list: @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @dreamie411 @aconstructofamind @coraex @multi-fan-dom-madness @freesia-writes @kashasenpai @sunshinesdaydream @din-miller @clonemedickix @wizardofrozz @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @blueink-bluesoul @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @sleepingsun501 @sunshinesdaydream

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

Anakin as you bf

Sum random ass headcanons I CRAVE for this man (pls I beg more of I BEG)

Tw: might be bit ooc since I'm still learning about him but rn he screams all of this for me, just fluff

-He a tease, gets worse once you guys finally get together.

-Can see him whispering sweet nothings in your ear or just blows air just to see you shiver outta nowhere

Making you blush is part of his hobby now. He just adores it when get shy with him. Look away all you want but he gon make sure to see that precious face of your heat up 🫠

-likes to rest his head on your lap whenever he feels stuffs too much for him. Like he'll flop down infront of you and let his head flop on your thighs, letting his body finally relax after a long day.

PLEASE play with his hair too he finds it so soothing he could just knock out right there 😭 💕💕💕

-Tries to keep things on the low cuz....jedi rules and stuff, but just like in the movies and shows he failed miserably cuz he basically can't keep his hands to himself 😭💀💀💀

He touchstarved ok?! Cut him sum slack, not his fault u make him wanna squish you at every opportunity possible

Cuteness aggression. Beware once yall out of sight of anyone he gonna pounce on you for cuddles, unless he got stuff to do he is NOT moving good fucking luck lol

-Don't let him know your ticklish. DO NOT LET HIM FIND OUT IT WILL BE YOU DAMN END,

will sometimes poke on your sides when u least expect it cuz he just finds it so cute seeing squeak in surprise. Scold him for it all you like that just makes him wanna do it more 😫

-Gives you the softest look when you talk to him, you may talking about the weirdest shi but my guy here smiling like a goof as he just wonders how was he so lucky to have you

ngl sometimes he would just be so busy looking at you to the point you blabbing becomes a background noise, is not that he doesn't listen it's just that he a simp and can't help to just look at you a dream of having a life together the both of you

__________________________________________

A/N: pls ask me for more parts rn cuz I wanna ramble on him sm I JUST WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY FFS 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏

[sokamw]

Darth Maul x Reader

Misty nightmare

Summary:

It’s a rainy night on Dromund Kaas and Maul is having nightmares from the torture he has endured at the hands of his master Darth Sidious.

—

Maul removed one hand from your hip, caressing the hand holding him.

“These feelings are tied to me, as my soul is so unyieldingly tied to yours, my love” he rasped.

Hello, enjoy some angst and fluff with Darth Maul on a rainy day on Dromund Kaas. <3

You can also access the story on ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65280319

Pit, pat, pit, pat…

A cold breeze flows through you.

The only thing your mind registered was the pitter-patter of raindrops falling on your body.

Huh strange.

These raindrops were so fast.

It’s like they were attacking your skin from all angles without leaving a trace of cover.

Pit, pat, pit, pat…

“Have mercy!”

You startled as your mind perceived a pleading voice crying out in agony.

“Please, please!”.

Shallow breaths fluttered from your lips as you tried fighting this unbearable trance. But fighting it seemed to only fuel the unforgiving rain as it increased by the minute.

Each drop seemed to sink into every pore of your body like fire-

no-

like lightning.

Yes, lightning seemed to be more fitting.

As your mind pondered over the bizarre situation you found yourself in, your thoughts came to an abrupt stop.

What was that?

You processed distant whimpers and cries of pain, but no sound was escaping your throat.

No, that wasn’t you. This voice seemed familiar…

The tapping of the rain increased to an unbearable extent, making you feel like being drowned in endless torment.

You felt yourself reaching your breaking point as the last thing you made out was a distant cackling.

“There is no mercy”-

—

You awoke with a startle, taking gulps of air as if rising from the depths of Kamino’s stormy oceans. The excruciating burn under your skin lingers painfully as if still under the torment.

What happened? You felt disoriented as your bewildered eyes scanned your surroundings. Thin light streaks emitting from the two moons of Dromund Kaas shined through the big glass panels of the quarters you shared with your husband. As your eyes adjusted to the familiar surroundings, you acknowledged raindrops falling outside the window.

The rainfall seemed to cover every inch of the glass, covering it like a heavy blanket made out of cold water. Your thoughts were momentarily drowned out by the white noise reflecting of the heavy storm on Dromund Kaas.

One glass panel was halfway open, letting the smell of chilly dampness in the air creep into the room and filling your nostrils.

But that wasn’t the only thing your senses registered.

As you managed to calm yourself down to the best of your abilities you acknowledged the figure sleeping next to you whimpering quietly.

Not just whimpering.

Maul’s body lay straight on his back. His head was turned in the opposite direction of you, which is why you could only see the ink-filled back of his head. His horns were leaving sharp indents on the fluffy pillow. As you propped up your elbow to muster the situation better, he whimpered again, trashing his head to the other side.

Now you saw how pain-stricken his tattooed face was. His mouth was stuck in a permanent scowl as he breathed heavy, as if something heavy was pressing down on his chest. Abruptly, you pulled yourself up to aid him.

“No, no-“

Your worry increased as he started muttering words.

“Always remember-

mercy is a lie-

always remember-

I am filth-“

You had to put a stop to this.

“Maul!” you called.

“It’s just a dream” you vocalised as you softly put your hand on his right cheek with the caution of approaching a terrified creature barring its teeth.

“Maul! Wake up-“

Pain.

That’s the next thing you felt -sudden and throbbing- as Maul opened his golden eyes and swung the back of his hand at your head, muscle memory taking over.

As you tried to recoil and take control of the situation by sitting up properly, you heard a growl from the depths of his throat.

Maul bounced bewildered on top of you, pinning you by your throat and squeezing hard.

His other hand shot out to summon and ignite his crimson lightsaber, that’s resting dutifully on his nightstand.

Your hands flew to the strong hand choking you and clawing at it as you tried forcing out a sentence. Anything! But only a strangled sound came out of your throat.

That’s when his hand suddenly stilled and stopped squeezing the life out of you.

His bewildered, but oh so beautiful, golden eyes shone brightly into yours. The only sounds that could be perceived were the sharp intakes of breath coming out of the Zabrak above you and the rhythmic humming of his blade as he registered the lack of threat.

“Maul” you muttered weakly.

The red blade vanished into the silver hilt of the ancient weapon he was clinging to.

His shoulders sank as Maul realised who he was fighting. Heavy shame seeped into the marrow of his shaken bones.

His scared expression shifted to one of anger, instinctively processing the shame into deep-rooted self-hatred.

This subtle change did not go unnoticed by you.

The Zabrak retreated as he pulled himself from your body and flopped down next to you.

“Maul?” you called again, with a soft voice.

His only response was turning his whole body so he was facing the opposite direction of you and subtly curling into himself.

Now you were facing his bare, ink-covered back. You felt your heart breaking painfully slow as you saw your husband in this state.

The sheets rustled softly as your body tried closing the distance between you, but not quite touching yet.

The sound of heavy rainfall increased as a lightning bolt washed the room into a sudden white light.

You knew that the roar of thunder would follow in a matter of seconds.

But before the sound could pierce your ears, you saw Maul gently raise his right hand and quietly close the half-open window with the help of the force.

Maul slightly flinched as you gently put your hand on his upper arm. He didn’t draw his arm back or recoiled, letting your touch rest on him. Your pleading whispers broke the silence:

“Please don’t shut yourself off from me. Don’t push me away-“

“Your reaction time is deficient” he bluntly said in his raspy voice.

“I think I managed pretty well. I was just about to put you in a headlock” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

The effect left much to be desired.

“Maul, look at me” you ordered.

After a moment, you felt him shift and turn around, now facing you.

You were sure you would never get used to how breathtakingly beautiful he was. You silently admired the contours of his crimson face, which was again set in a scowl.

But you could see behind the facade.

His own self-disgust was eating him alive.

“You know I can handle myself, right? It was a mistake, nothing else”

Maul only replied with a humph.

You looked down and took his hand into yours, tracing the black patterns with your thumb. “You wanna talk about it?”

An icy chill crept down your back as you remembered the harrowing dream he must have accidentally projected onto you with the force.

You feel dread form at the centre of your chest as you remember the agonising torture he endured at the hands of his master Darth Sidious.

Maul finally responded with a firm “Talking about it won’t make a difference, but only trouble you more”.

You frowned at him in silent disagreement, moving your body on top of him to straddle his hips.

Maul instinctively put his hands on your waist, holding you tight. The cold feeling of his cybernetic legs under you and the heat radiating off his body comforted you.

Your hand reached out to cradle his cheek, a singular finger brushing the base of the horn near his ear in a soothing gesture.

“You don’t deserve feeling like that, ever. I want to be there for you”

Maul removed one hand from your hip, caressing the hand holding him.

“These feelings are tied to me, as my soul is so unyieldingly tied to yours, my love” he rasped.

You tried ignoring the blush creeping into your cheeks and the flutter you felt in your heart.

“I felt your pain. It was agonising” you sighed.

“My apologies” he gave a quick peck to your hand “I will try to control myself better next time” he genuinely said.

Your heart sank at his words

“No!” you blurted out.

“You’re not alone with this, Maul. I want to help you. My well-being is tied to yours, as my soul is so unyieldingly tied to yours, my love” you cheekily responded, using the same words but nevertheless meaning it with all your heart.

The corners of Maul’s lips lifted up, oh so slightly, in a small smirk.

A small victory.

The corners of your lips lifted into a genuine smile in response.

You leaned down, resting your head into the crook of his neck and feeling his hearts beating. “You’re not alone” you muttered softly as you cradled him. “Ever.”

You basked in the comfort of holding him and feeling his warmth.

“I love you” you murmured, meaning every syllable of it.

Maul wrapped his arms around your body, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, careful of his horns.

“I love you too.” Maul rasped in a soft mutter.

Your warmth and comfort soothed his nerves as your breaths evened out, and you drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

—

Thanks for reading :)

[k8s--space]

AO3 Master List

IN-PROGRESS STORIES:

"More Than Empty Servitude”

Captain Rex/Female Reader TCW timeline slow burn

Rating: Explicit

Part I Chapters: 79/79

Part II Chapters: 7/?

“Duet in D Minor”

Fives/Female Reader (concurrent TCW timeline with MTES chapters)

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 11/?

"The Rain of Kamino"

Commander Oddball/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 6/?

FINISHED STORIES:

"Call Signs"

Commander Oddball/Female Reader

Rating: Teen

Chapters: 4/4

"Ode to the Regs"

A remembrance for those whose stories still deserve to be told.

Rating: G

Chapters: 1/1

"New Armor, Old Memories"

Post TBB story. Rex bestows Echo with a surprising set of armor.

Rating: G

Chapters: 3/3

"Wim and The Warrior"

Skeleton Crew "What-if" story featuring Kix.

Rating: G

Chapters: 1/1

"Camaraderie Amidst Chaos"

A glimpse into the Battle of Ryloth from Echo’s POV.

Rating: Teen

Chapters: 1/1

"Let it Out"

Kix encourages Echo and Fives to open up about Domino Squad.

Rating: G

Chapters: 1/1

SOCIALS, UPDATES, & THANK-YOUS:

Kofi

Instagram

--

Banner art by @rackcty

[threepandas]

After The War: Foxx Hunting (Prev <-)

"Commander."

On anyone else, the tone would suggest simple statement. But there was a lilt. A slight inflection, I had long learned to spot, at the end of the word. That made it a greeting. A call. Monotone filled with subtle, near untraceable mocking.

"Tired of running yet, Commander? Or do you want to struggle more? You can, if you want. I can let you. We have time. After all, it really won't change much. There's no where you can go."

Head tilted ever so slightly, at an almost an invisible angle. Posture, military perfect, impossibly so. That perfection bought with pain, torture, born out of brutal necessity. His lips quirked, in an amused curl. At just that same, impossibly slight amount. Too small and indistinct for his tormentors to notice. To take from him.

Just enough to stay human, I had thought. Too stay sane, I had hoped.

I was wrong.

My biggest mistake hunted me. Had all the power in the GALAXY now, to hunt me. All the time he could ever dream, in which to do so. And it was all my fault. Me. It had to be. I... I was the only thing that changed. Tried to make things... things BETTER!

How arrogant. Hubristic. Who the fuck was I? To think I had the RIGHT, to shape and change the fate of an entire GALAXY to my whims? I didn't even know the story. Had been GUESSING, based off STAR WARS. So... so fucking confident. A-and what did that get me? Oh god. O-Oh god!

The blaster burns on my arms and legs screamed, as I forced myself up, one more time. Always, please god, always! J-just one more time! Don't give out on me yet. Not.. not until we are safe. Then. Then! We can cry. Howl and weep, break down and scream.

(My fault. My Fault. MY FAUL-)

None of the characters were an exact match. People were and weren't where they should be. Plots happened out of sequence or not at all. So why? WHY? Did I believe so hard in the Clones? IS it because I loved, still LOVE, the Vode? Did that trust transfer? That emotional connection? Was I tricked? Or was I just a fool? Does it MATTER in the end? If the result is the same?

I brought a monster, straight to Power.

Now they're dead. All my brothers, my sisters, my mentors and friends. Dead, dead, DEAD! Glowing weapons on the ground and a temple filled with DEATH. D-Did the nurseries get out? Please, oh god, let the children have survived my mistake.

Blood stains my robes. Only a tiny fraction of it, is mine.

Sticky and slick, oily and so many colors. The blood does not mix. Too many species, too much ash from the air. If I do not clean or remove it soon? I am likely to get chemical burns, from the reactions developing on the cloth. But again and again. My mistake finds me. A pursuit predator. Intent on wearing me down.

"How long will you try, Commander? You know just as well as I do, that I can afford to wait you out. You'll drop eventually." His tone was so mild, even as his words were horrifying. Overhead, a transport kept steady pace, as I desperately ran from commandos on the streets. "How many days has it been without proper rest? Rations? To stop and think? We've survived far worse then this, Commander. For far longer. We can endure, can you?"

I pull my magic around me, through my screaming legs, to fling myself across a jump they shouldn't be able to make.

Despair surges, as behind me... I hear jetpacks. Ah. They've gotten better gear, at long last. E-Everything I've ever wished for them. Gear and food and safety, at long last! A-At long last. I have to laugh, hysterical and afraid. I just... I just never thought my wish? Would be fulfilled for the purpose of hunting me down.

(I'm so tired. Please, god. No more. Let it stop. Let this nightmare END!)

Jumping, I land in a roll on a level several floors down. The impact is ugly. Agony on my burns and bruises. I may have not taken any direct hits? But those glancing strikes? Still leave marks. Trails of seared, blistering, blaster burns. Like tiger strips. As though you hade been struck, by whip made of fire. Not to mention the concussion grenades.

Yeah, half way through the attack, the Clones had stumbled. Either broken free of the Not Sith's control or come to their senses, deciding to switch to non-lethal weapons. Probably trying to go for the capture instead of the kill. But given the sheer variety of the Knights? One Being's sedative was another's lethal toxin. And the gas attacks...

I... I'm still not even sure if... if Master Rim'Llahiy survived long enough, to get to the healers. The seizures were BAD. He... he didn't deserve that. All he'd ever done, was keep the gardens. Live a quite life. T...Try to defend his home.

Around me, as I run, screens light up. Somehow, I'm the focal point. I... I don't know how he's doing this. It has to be Sketch or Gear, one of the Slicers. Who else could hack into so many systems so easily? The... the knowledge that they're helping him? That everyone of the Guard is HELPING him hunt me? I feel sick.

Was any of it real? Was I friends with ANY of them? Or... Or was I just them happy little slave master, patting myself on the back, because I didn't beat them, unlike the others? Aren't I gracious. Don't you just love me? Say thank you for my grace. Let me feel good about my self! My pretty little charity of the day! Before I skip back off to fairy land! Leaving you all in hell.

Do I deserve this? I... I have to deserve this... right?

Even though I tried. Even though I fought and fought and FOUGHT. Even when that Not A Sith BASTARD tried to kill me at every turn, just to shut me the fuck up, and I WOULDN'T. Because they deserved to be free. Because it was WRONG. Because we took VOWS, remember? Days and days, convincing and campaigning.

I have to... to somehow, deserve this. Because? B-because if I DON'T?

Then What Have I DONE?

City levels and blocks blur together. I couldn't tell you where on this god forsaken ecumenopolis I am anymore. But the others! The others have gotten off planet by now. Surely... surely! They have escaped! Right? They HAVE too. I-It HAS to have been worth it. Becoming bait. M-making myself a target. This... this one last time?

It.. it was WORTH it. Right? Right?!

Please! Please god! Let it have been WORTH IT!!

I skid around a corner. Too tight, not judging it right in my panic, my shoulder clipping the wall hard. Scraping flesh through my robes. Just more bruises and hurt to add to the pile. I don't slow. Can't slow. Feel it but push the pain away. The crash later will be ugly, when I release the magics flowing through me. When the adrenaline fades. But... but either I will live to endure it? Or it will not matter at all.

Too late, though, I see the trap.

I have been corralled. Like a a sheep from my first life, harried by dogs into a pen. Tricked into a corner. No where left to go. The platform I thought was a street? Was an alley between two buildings, leading to a third. A perfect little killbox with only one way out. I stumble, horrified, as I register the truth too late. Spin, already knowing it's too late to double back. But hoping... HOPING....!

Jetpacks. The commando squadron of the guards, touching down at the entrance, a solid line of armor and skill. Better weapons, jet packs, upgraded armor. They... they even seem rested. For the first time in years.

A stark reversal. Now it is I, who is barely holding on. Now I am the one, who has been ground to dust, by the exhaustion of fighting without end. Of running and running. No real food and no real rest. No medicine. No help coming. I want to laugh, scream, weep. So it's to be poetic justice, is it?

But I can not give in.

Forgive me. But I can not, WILL NOT give in. Body exhausted, I draw my blade. The plasma humming as the magics charge. The alleyway fills with light. I took Vows. Owe my soul to the Galaxy and it's people. Regardless of Regime, I have service I must complete. And to do that? I have to be alive.

(I don't care, that they took over. Let them have it. But how could you? How COULD YOU?! The Temple was my home. I am a hypocrite. Here, at the end, I must face that. And now I know it to be true.)

The ship over head dips lower, kicking up a hurricane of wind. My robes whip around me, but I do not move from my opening stance. Ready, not ready, but resigned to it none the less. The Commandos are a silent wall as, from above, a rip cord descends. Clipped to it? Marshall Commander... no, Supreme Commander Foxx.

The Clones newly elected Emperor.

A man I THOUGHT was my friend.

He looked nothing like Commander Fox of the Vode. Hair too long and curling. Face deceptively young looking and boyish. Non regulation piercing hidden under the helmet all Guards wore, day in and day out. They hadn't been able to customize their armor like the others. So they customized themselves.

He wasn't in armor, now. It was somehow worse. The dress uniform an affront, a reminder, like a curse of broken glass. I... I hadn't even known he owned such a thing. It made sense, given his old position. Yet, somehow... somehow? I doubted this was the uniform he had been given. It looked... looked Regal.

"Are we done, now? Got it out of your system? Or should one of us put you on the ground first? Grind your face right against the filthy floor?"

His voice was mild as ever, as he calmly unclipped himself, let the cord retract. He tucked his hands behind his back. Strolled forward with measured steps, assessing eyes, like a general examining untested troops. Picking me apart for weakness, looking for openings in my stance. Injuries on my body. I had seen him do this before. Just... just never thought... it'd be used... a-against me. (How arrogant, I had been.)

"This can stop at any time, Commander. All you have to do? Is stop running. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going to hurt you. We're not going to hurt you. You've struggled long enough, don't you think? It's time to be done. To come home. Be taken care off. That's all we want to do, Darling. Commander."

"Surely you can see, that it's BETTER this way? No more war. No more Knights on sabotaged missions. Diplomats to war zones. Children where they shouldn't BE. The Order can be SAFE now. YOU can be safe now. Loved and precious as you always should have been. It's okay now, Commander. Come here. It's okay..."

Foxx's eyes blazed with conviction. They had been brown, like his brothers. They... oh god, they SHOULD have been brown. But as I stared into his face, at those unfamiliar eyes on what should be so familiar a form? Red stared back. The red, Red, RED, of the Fallen.

Foxx had been... had been Energy Sensitive. The Cloners had fucking LIED, when they said it wasn't possible. I had always suspected. Didn't dare bring attention to it. Didn't want my friend to be... to be KILLED. Experimented on. I should have trained him. Done more.

Desperate people will reach for anything, to stop themselves from drowning. And the Dark offers such tempting things. Vengeance and Power. Freedom, no matter the cost. It pays sweetly then corrupts slow. There is always a cost.

I can not risk it.

Shifting my weight to my front leg, in preparation to surge forward, I never get the chance. A two fold thwip! And sharp pinch in my upper arm. I got the first. But the second... a? Dart? No. NO! Panicked, I flood my body with the magics meant to purge drugs and... instantly the world spins. I have somehow just made it worse. W-what?

"Confiscated from slavers, 'bout five months back. It's a high end drug." The Commando with the dart gun said, as though commentingon the weather. "Fairly new, too. Made to react specifically to the Cosmic Energies. Our esteemed Chancellor, may he rot as he deserves, had them developed through several shell companies."

"Really wish you hadn't done that, Commander. Cause, see, the side effects? Are pretty nasty." Foxx commented. Various helmets nodded, the guards body language sympathetic but lacking any remorse. What ever it took to bring me in. To make me Safe.

"Now you're going to be sick for a while. But on the other hand? You are a stubborn one. So maybe this'll give you time to think, hmm? Time to enjoy the pampering a bit. You'll get used to it, learn to be good for me. I know you. You're a smart girl."

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. Despite struggling, I couldn't keep my blade at the ready. Helplessly, I watched as he watched forward. Used a single finger, on the hilt, to push my blade to the side. The lightest of tugs, stealing it from me entirely. At long last, the tears came. I... I was scared. Really, really scared. P-please... Foxx, please...

"Hunts over, Commander. It's time to stop running. You've lost."

"But, that? That's okay. You can lose now. Be weak. Wretched and pathetic and flawed. You don't have to be perfect any more, Commander. I've got you. You're Mine. Ours. Perfect, just the way you are. And today?"

"Today is the start of the rest of your new life, Commander."

"Welcome to the Empire."

[obiwansito]

The Great War

masterlist 𐐒𐐚 ⁺

fic playlist ʚĭɞ taglist ʚĭɞ all fics masterlist

pairing- obi wan x f!reader

summary- after years of war and a secret relationship with obi-wan, you discover you are pregnant. you decide to be optimistic, rumours say the clone wars are about to end.

but sometimes, love can't fix everything.

tags & warnings- graphic violence, major canonical character dead (not obi wan or reader), unplanned pregnancy, angst, smut (+18 mdni), order 66, death and blood, canon compliant, battle scenes, anxiety. (more to be added).

status- in progress

chapter 1: spineless in my tomb of silence

chapter 2: the bombs were close

chapter 3: somewhere in the haze

chapter 4: the night i nearly lost you

chapter 5: i vowed i would always be yours (WIP)

epilogue: cause we survived the great war

© obiwansito, 2024. reposts, copies and translations are not allowed. my work cannot be used for training AI.

[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.

[caprisun89bakerstreet]

How can I be guilty as sin?

Ch.2 - there’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

Series summary: the 5 times you almost told Obi-Wan about your feelings for him and the 1 time it slipped out

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

“Master— it’s just- a scratch-“ Obi-Wan tried to vaguely reassure you both. “Nothing- to worry about—-“ He adds but his eyes are starting to close.

“Obi-Wan no!”

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

Pairing: obi-wan kenobi x f!reader

Wordcount: 4,1k

Chapter summary: You're on a mission with your master Plo Koon, Qui Gon Jinn and your fellow padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi who your feelings for are increasing with each mission. But during this one, things go badly. He gets hurt. Badly. Can you do something to prevent him from dying? Or would it cost too much?

Tags: hurt/comfort, obi gets hurt, reader (recklessly) saves him from death, pre phantom menace, angst, you’re both padawans, masters realize you might have feelings for him, forbidden love

Notes: this was so hard but fun to write because i could include both qui gon and plo and they’re some of my fav jedi, it’s not perfect but oh well, i had a plan for it but it went in a completely other direction somehow anyways, enjoy

“Quick, seal the door!” Qui Gon called and you did as he instructed, sealing the door behind you with a slash of your lightsaber.

“Master he’s not here, he isn’t in any of these cells-“ Obi-Wan told him. When you turned around you see him pressing buttons on the control panel. The camera’s flashing through multiple prison cells.

“No, he has to be there!” You say determined and need to see it for yourself so you push past both men and look at the screen. Pressing buttons, desperately trying to find him. He wasn’t there.

“Dank farrik—“ You curse hitting the panel with your fist.

You were on the planet Raxus, protecting civilians from bounty hunters. But it quickly got out of hand the moment you and Obi-Wan decided it would be a good idea to follow them and try to negotiate. It appeared they weren’t interested in negotiations. Not civil ones anyway. Qui Gon and your master Plo had both realized where you’ve both gone fairly quickly. And proceeded to track down your location.

Meanwhile you and Obi-Wan had both overheard some of the bounty hunters about the long missing chief of the village. Which the civilians had known to be lost for 5 years, you recently found out.

“We’ll have to sort this out later, there’s droids incoming—“ Qui Gon warns you both and hear him ignite his saber. And within seconds you hear the familiar hum of your own saber and Obi-Wan’s before the door opens. And once again the room was filled by blasterbolts. Droids continued to enter shooting left and right.

“How did these bounty hunters even manage to get their hands on battle droids?” Obi-Wan questioned out loud as his saber pierced through a droid.

“I mean you could always ask them, the trade federation might just awnser—“ You tease, slashing your saber again .

“Well i don’t think they’d be very cooperative, do you?” He retorted matching your sarcasm as he beheaded another droid.

“Stop bickering you two—“ Qui Gon Jinn said while gutting the last droid. “Now tell me, where is the chief located?”

“Well they never actually told us, master.” You reply retracting your lightsaber and clipping it to your belt, looking at the camera’s again.

“We overheard them saying he’d be in sector 7. We presumed they were talking about the prisoner cells here, but that must’ve been code.” Obi-Wan thought to himself.

“It appears you’re right.” Qui Gon replied.

“Where’s master Plo?” You ask the older Jedi.

“He’s waiting outside. Now come on, let’s see if we can find him.“ Qui Gon tells you and Obi-Wan as you’re already heading out the door. But before leaving he stops you both. “— but let’s use our minds before going into this head first.” He warns you. ‘’Again.”

“Sorry master.” Obi-Wan says. And you look back at him, eyes meeting his.

“We will.” You add after a moment and then Qui Gon nods as the three of you walk out the building.

You had to get back to the ship. That’s the only plan you had as you watched the village go up in flames. How could this have happened? How hadn’t you forseen something as terrible as this? There’s too much going on around you to focus on these thoughts as you deflect blasterbolts firing at you from practicaly every direction. With a furrowed brow you’re trying to stay focused while more battle droids keep coming in.

“Why are they still coming?” You yell not understanding just how many droids they’ve managed to get on their hands without the trade federation or the senate knowing. As far as the Jedi knew.

“Getting tired already?” Obi-Wan teased from a few feet away. Despite the sweat forming between his brow and his endeavors with you earlier, he still had precise movements. If you weren’t being shot at right now you would’ve silently admired his strength. But you quickly forget the thought when a blasterbolt nearly grazes your cheek and brings you back to the present.

“Quick! Get to the ship!” Master Plo called as he managed to get rid of two droids. He was closer to the ship then you were. But he was still only halfway there.

“Easier said then done master!” You called back because there were even more droids incoming from left and right- you were being crammed. If you turned away now, you’d surely get hit. There’s too much blasterfire.

Slowly you, Obi-Wan and Qui Gon retreated back to the ship. But it was terribly slow. And your focus was starting to wear thin, your movements getting less precise, sloppy. You were sweating, blocking less blasterbolts than you needed to to save your energy. Trying to focus on reciprocrating the bolts to get rid of the droids instead of wasting the shots. And you managed to. Until one grazed your left-upper arm. And you wince. “Kriff—“

Obi-Wan called out your name as soon as he heard you. “Are you alright?”

“Yes— I’m fine-“ you reply from a few feet away and continue to block the incoming fire. It hurt terribly. A burning heat was flaring on your left bicep. You were just lucky it wasn’t your right, and you weren’t ready to lose that now.

“We’re almost there!” Qui Gon called from your right. He looked tired too, you realized in a quick glance. This wasn’t going well.

But then you felt a disruption in the Force. A warning. You prepared yourself as anticipation and adrenaline filled you before you could register what was about to happen. You focused on the droids infront of you— worried that there might be another wave of them, or worse, what if those bounty hunters came back? But then you heard a cry out in pain to your left. Your left. Obi-Wan. And your body fills with panic as you see him.

“Obi-Wan!” You yell when you see him crumble to the ground a few feet away from you. And without thinking you rush over to him, barely avoiding two— no three blasterbolts, as you stand infront of him. Jumping over the debris of the city. And you block the shots firing at you when you’re standing infront of obi. Quickly the distance between you two diminishes.

Qui Gon called your name when he saw you recklessly change plans. Because of Obi-Wan. He tried to get closer. He needed to get you both out of here as soon as possible. The droids were closing in on you. And you were losing.

“Obi-Wan talk to me—“ You say your voice worried and insistant. Because if you looked at him right now you’d surely be too distracted to not get hit.

You hear another wince from behind you on the ground. Which only created a pit of worry in your stumach and you risk a glance at him. He was clutching his side.

“I’m fine— it’s fine nothing- to worry about—“ he said with heavy breath which you practically didn’t hear because you were still in the heat of battle. You did catch his last words. Which told you enough about his state, he was anything but fine.

You risk another glance at him but then see his side, he was bleeding. He’d been shot. And you saw too much blood for your liking in that one glimpse. “Qui Gon!” You call for his master, worry filling your voice because you couldn’t do anything to help him while you were still being fired at. But within a few moments that seemingly stretched out for eternity, Qui Gon was at Obi-Wan’s side.

“Master he’s bleeding— really badly—“ You start to panic and Qui Gon can tell.

“I need you to cover for me while i carry him to the ship. We have to hurry.” He says as he tries to carefully lift Obi up in his arms and he winces in pain. Your heart breaks at the sound.

“Yes master. I’m ready.” You respond more confident than you felt right now.

“Now, run!” He gave the signal. But you barely manage to block the firing at you and another bolt grazes your shoulder and you wince.

If you didn’t hold yourself up now, both Qui Gon and Obi-Wan would get shot. And die. You couldn’t let that happen. But the increasing burning sensation in your right shoulder made lifting anything feel like fire was bursting through your veins. And it hurt. It hurt so much. Like the brightest flaming red was the color of your insides and you almost felt yourself getting lightheaded. We’re you going to faint? No. You weren’t. You couldn’t let them die. Not like this. Not them.

“Master—“ You plead your steps slowing down without you wanting to, and Qui Gon seemed to realize just how worn out you were. This was it. He had pushed you both too far. He turned around and stayed behind you as you kept blocking the blasterfire coming your way. Keeping Obi-Wan secure in his arms, head against his shoulder, and his eyes were closed already. He really should’ve been better. For the both of you.

That’s when suddenly droid after droid gets blown to pieces as laserbolts fill the sky and you hear the familiar hum of your ships engines. Matser Plo. He made it to the ship early. And relief fills your body and you send a wave of gratitude through the Force. You knew you were too weak to reach him but it’d be a silent prayer anyway. Because you could really use a miracle right now.

“Come on, hurry!” Qui Gon said as you kept running away, the droids distracted by the new threat You were able to escape. Barely. But Plo managed to get you out there just in time as he flies to the atmosphere.

You still heard blasterfire in the distance as Qui Gon eventually stopped and carefully placed Obi down. He’s still breathing heavily and and whinces uncomfortably.

“Obi-Wan I need you to move your arm.” Qui Gon said because Obi was still clutching his side. As soon as you saw his pained expression you kneel down next to him and reach for his face. Cupping his cheeks in your hands. This couldn’t be it. You wouldn’t let it come that far. His eyes were glazed and he seemed too distant for your liking when you looked into those blue eyes. Which almost seemed to lose more color by the minute.

“Obi come on— i know it hurts- but you have to..” You gently but worriedly encourage him. His eyes flicker up to meet yours and he weakly calls your name.

Qui Gon then removed his arm to reveal the blood covering his chest. Obi grunts in pain and you try to sooth him removing his hair from his face and caressing his cheeks. But he was bleeding. A lot.

“Master— it’s just- a scratch-“ Obi-Wan tried to vaguely reassure you both. “Nothing- to worry about—-“ He adds but his eyes are starting to close.

“Obi-Wan no!” You say, still holding his face and trying to get him to look at you. Panic is coursing through your veins. He was losing conciousness. He wasn’t going to die, you knew that. It was Obi-Wan he’s seen way worse than this. This couldn’t be how he died. You felt worry take over your entire being. Thoughts going haywire as you hold his face. And then you’re on autopilot. You weren’t thinking. You were following your instincts now. The only thought you had was, heal. You needed to heal him. Right now. Even if you didn’t know how- or weren’t able to- and didn’t have the supplies- or abilities— you simply had to. Obi-Wan was losing conciousness. Because he was covered in blood. He was suffering. Obi-Wan was suffering. And you physically couldn’t stand it. So you reach for his tunic to reveal his wound.

Qui Gon noticed you were on autopilot. He couldn’t blame you, it’s not like he wasn’t himself moments earlier when you both ran away from those droids. But there was another kind of determination in you as he saw you cradle Obi-Wan. You were determined in a dangerous way. No, a selfless one. He had seen you grow up being gentle and often timid. But once either master Plo, himself or Obi-Wan were in danger, your whole demeanor changed. You were protective. Not in a selfish way, but a selfless one. You’d do anything to keep them safe. To keep them alive. In the earlier years of you being a padawan this change in you during missions surprised many. And over the years both master Plo and Qui Gon himself started to see more of this determined side of you. Because you were often facing dangers on missions. But one of you getting as severely hurt as Obi-Wan rarely happened. He looked at you now as you got rid of his tunic. You were a healer. Or taking classes, at least. But you weren’t proficient. You were a student. It took great effort, training and discipline to have the ability to heal another’s wounds. Especially ones this deep. But he knew you were talented though, being one of the youngest in class. But your determination might have been stronger than your skills in this moment. Qui Gon knew your healing capability wouldn’t be enough to save him. Not right now.

“He needs medic supplies.” Qui Gon says seeing the way your hands tremble as you reach for Obi’s bleeding chest. And Qui Gon reaches for his comm to send your coordinates to master Plo.

“We don’t have that right now—“ you say, your voice betraying your increasing concern. And you place your hands carefully on his chest, next to the wound bleeding a sickly, gushing red. “Obi hang in there please-“ you whisper a silent prayer and close your eyes. Reaching out to the Force and call on the light you feel starting to spread in your fingertips. Creating that familiar tingling feeling.

“Padawan—“ Qui Gon tries to warn you, seeing your body shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion, and your shoulder still bleeding. But you knew your wounds weren’t as bad as Obi’s.

“Quiet.” You tell him. And stubbornly keep going. Or as you liked to call it, selflessly.

___

After a few moments you hear the ship’s engines as it lands a few feet next to you.

“I need you to help me lift him up carefully-“ Qui Gon tells you and you help him, probably being more careful than you had to be.

Noticing obi’s expression turn pained you feel your stumach twist. And run off to get the medical supplies.

“Padawan, what happened—“ master Plo starts off but when he sees Qui Gon carrying Obi, who’s chest is covered in blood it sinks in. But you had always pushed past your master to get in the ship.

You were on auto pilot. Hands trembling and trying to keep a clear head. You were a Jedi. You were good at saving people. Especially vulnerable ones. It’s what you did. But why did it feel like you were losing grip on it? You were losing control- normally you’re able to help people- stay focused and keep a somewhat clear head as you went out your way to save people. But now? Now you were fueled by adrenaline and worry. Because you couldn’t lose your best friend. Not when he meant so much more.

Rummaging through the ship’s storage bins to get something— anything that might help you start to panic. None of this was gonna work if we didn’t have the supplies— if we didn’t that meant he would still be in pain- hurting- bleeding out— no. You wouldn’t let it come that far. Somehow. You rush back to Obi’s cot with some spare bacta packs. Qui Gon had already cut open his tunic. You rip open the bacta packs but Qui Gon stops you. Quickly stopping your wrist.

“Padawan. It’s too deep to heal from just those.”

“I don’t care—“ You hear yourself saying as you continue.

“Padawan-“

“I’ll do it myself! I’ll heal him!” You say desperate but determined. You had never treaten someone this badly before. You felt awfully unsure about everything right now. And you hated it. Panic started to spiral through your core. How were you gonna do that?

Your hands moved on their own, trying to position them just next to the wound without making Obi-Wan visibly squirm in pain. You’ve never had to heal someone with wounds as bad as this. Let alone someone so close to you. Someone as important as him. Not that you were allowed to think that way, you were a jedi after all. No attachments. And yet, seeing Obi in pain like this made your whole body betray you. You feel as if getting an adrenaline rush from being in the most dangerous situation you’ve ever been. And Qui Gon knows. Yet doesn’t say anything. And doesn’t stop you.

You place your hands on Obi-Wan’s chest, around the wounds and close your eyes. “Come on Obi..” you mutter nervously. Because he can’t die. Not like this. Not today. So you focus on the Force flowing around you, feeling Obi-Wan’s life Force weaken by the moment. Panick starts to rise on your chest again. But then you focus on you. The Force flowing through your body, your veins, your entire being. And you focus on your hands. Feeling a lighter and tingly feeling spread in them. And you let it flow to him. Into his chest. You felt the throbbinh pain in his chest affecting his entire body. Oh no. That’s bad. Really bad. You focus on sending the Force to his most crucial areas. But you even felt your own chest starting hurt. He wasn’t going to make it. Not like this. You needed a miracle. No. You didn’t. You just needed willpower. And determination. Because you weren’t gonna let Obi-Wan die. Your brow started to sweat as you send all your energy through him. Not that you noticed, you were too focused on saving him. Your best friend. Though that term seemed to feel more odd than usual right now. You were in a trance trying to save Obi-Wan. So you send everything through him. All of your energy. Even if it wasn’t enough. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you didn’t try.

Qui Gon was still sitting next to you. He tried to call your name. Because he saw your trembling hands, furrowed brow, and focused demeanor despite being exhausted. But he also saw the color in your cheeks fade away. You were draining yourself. To a dangerous extent. Qui Gon placed a hand on your arm. But you weren’t noticing any of his attempts to get your attention. Obi-Wan was all that mattered right now. But you felt his force presence slipping away. And Qui Gon could tell Obi’s breathing had slowed down. Too much. And after a few moments he couldn’t tell if he was breathing anymore…

But your breathing started to get heavier, you started to feel lighter, seeing flashes behind your eyelids. You had to save Obi. So you send all of your Life Force to him. All of it. And before you knew it, you didn’t feel your hands trembling anymore. You didn’t hear your own thoughts anymore. And your head hurt. Feeling dizzy. Then there was simply nothing.

Qui Gon was too late to catch you when your head hit the ground as you fell over. You looked pale. Sickly. Drained. Qui Gon placed a hand on your forehead, worried. He tried to call your name, to wake you up. Was this it? Had you finally crossed your limit? When he focused on your force presence he felt nothing. Nothing. His heart sank in his chest. How could he have let this happen? He was supposed to protect Obi-Wan. And you. You were both just padawans. Now he lost both of you. Because of your own selflessness. He rummaged through the medical supplies spread around the floor. Until he heard a whimper. Obi-Wan. His eyes were still closed but he was breathing. Obi-Wan was breathing. When he looked at the wound, it still looked awful. As if nothing happened. But as Qui Gon looked at the deep gash he saw that it wasn’t gushing red anymore. It darkened. It partially healed. The worst part of the wound had closed, you had done it. You saved Obi-Wan. Qui Gon quickly tried to help Obi-Wan with the little supplies left.

Master Plo eventually entered the cabin and his expression fell. He had felt your Force presence starting to weaken when he was still in the cockpit. But when he saw you laying on the floor, motionless, next to an unconscious Obi-Wan who was still covered in blood his entire galaxy shifted for a moment. He had failed. As a master. He kneeled down beside you. You had always been stubborn, pushing yourself to no extent when it came to protecting the ones close to you. Or not. You had always tried to save everyone. No matter the cost of your own well being. And ofcours, when it came to Obi-Wan that willingness tenfolded somehow. Your friendship with him had always been a blessing. Or a curse when it came to you focussing on your jedi teachings. But to see the both of you laying unconscious on the floor deeply wounded your jedi master. And he prayed you would arrive on Lianna as quickly as possible to get enough medical supplies.

---

When Obi-Wan woke, everything hurt. He felt incredibly sore. But made the mistake of shifting in bed when he opened his eyes. Because a pain shot through his chest. What happened? He looked around the room he was in. Not recognizing it. Then it started to get back to him slowly. They were on the battlefield. Wait they were fighting— he quickly tried to look around the room and lean on his elbows to get up but it hurt. But it didn’t matter he needed to know—

“Easy Obi-Wan- lay back down.” Qui Gon’s voice. And a moment later he appeared next to Obi-Wan. Until he realized Qui Gon had been sitting in one of the chairs behind him.

“Master what-“ Obi started with a strained voice but cut himself off when he saw another bed in the room. With you in it. And his eyes widened.

Qui Gon helped him get back in bed carefully. “We made it out. Thanks to you. We’re on the planet Lianna because we were in need of medical supplies. You got shot. It was messy.” Obi-Wan tried to focus on Qui Gon’s words. But all he could do was stare at you. What had happened? He remembered you being fine. You were the one who protected him and got him out-

“Is she alright?” Obi-Wan blurted out worried. And Qui Gon sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed.

“She will be.” He spoke after a moment. And Obi-Wan felt his heart drop.

“What happened? She was okay when-“ Obi asked not caring how his chest hurt every time he used his voice.

“She was. Until you were bleeding out. She healed you. Even though i told her to stop because it was draining her life force. You’re alive because of her.”

“She—-“ Obi-Wan started but didn’t know how to continue. You had saved him? He got hurt so badly you had to save him? How had he been that careless? Because now you were hurt. You were unconcious because of him. Because of his recklessness and inability to stay focused. He felt guilt rising in his chest.

Qui Gon could sense Obi-Wan’s anxiety rising and placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“She’ll be alright Obi-Wan. She just needs rest. As do you.”

“Has she- woken up yet?” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but ask. But he saw Qui Gon shake his head. And an uneasy feeling washed over Obi-Wan.

He didn’t argue when Qui Gon helped him back down in bed. He was too tired to do so anyway. But his gaze was still on you.

“Rest Obi-Wan.” Qui Gon told him again, and left the room. But Obi-Wan stayed awake as he looked at you with a feeling of guilt, worry and something he can’t allow himself to feel. Especially not with you.

He only closed his eyes when his body demanded sleep. But he still dreamed of her. He always does.

And only a few feet away she still lay unconcious in that same room. But even though she seemed to be unreachable, in more ways than one, she was dreaming too. Dreaming of him. She supposed she always would.

[spooky-daggers]

Perfect- Oddball x F!Reader

AO3

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 8,369

Summary: You're a mechanic and droidsmith that works among the 212th Attack Battalion. During your time among them, you've fallen in love with clone commander and pilot, Oddball (Davijaan). Tonight, you've planned the perfect dinner date, but your plans go off the rails when Oddball sees you in your new dress.

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Romantic Fluff, Intimacy, Idiots in Love, Gift Giving, Kissing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Romantic Gestures, Date Night, Established Relationship, Sex, Blow Jobs, Making Out, Making Love, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, 2nd person POV, No Y/N, Reader with a clone-gifted nickname, Multiple POVs

[ireadwithmyears]

address the letters: “to the holes in my butterfly wings”

pairing: Kix and GN padawan reader (platonic)

Word count, guys it’s basically 10 K 💀bc apparently I am in capable of writing anything short.

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of blood and injury, medical procedures

summary:

In which, the CMO of Torrent Company discovers that you, a Padawan under his care have been hiding injuries and skipping medical checks, and now must take care of you as you suffer the consequences of your actions.

Also known as

Why you should never hide an injury from Kix. he will find out, and he will drag you off to the medbay so that he can take care of whatever mess you’ve made of yourself, scolding you all the wile.

“Look what I found on my bunk.”

You’re interrupted from eating your sandwich in the Cantina when Fives plops down beside you at the table, setting down a tray of food and waving a pink slip of paper in your face.

You’re about to tell him that “Can’t you see that you’re eating and get this paper out of my face,” when your eyes catch on three words written in bold text across the top of the page.

Mandatory vaccination updates. 

The sandwich, that up until this point has been the absolute centre of your attention, listen, you’re fighting a war and you have to appreciate any opportunity that you get to eat food that isn’t bland ration bars, drops out of your suddenly limp hand as you snatch up the paper, now very interested in the contents.

“When did you get this?” you ask slowly, you’re voice distracted, beginning to chew on your lower lip, already feeling the nervous coil in your stomach.

“When I came back to my bunk after the debriefing we had this afternoon. Apparently everyone got one. I bet you 10 credits that your master is going to pretend that he didn’t see it, and try and avoid it until Kix has to tear apart the ship looking for him and drag him to the medbay.” Fives chuckles.

Master Skywalker’s reputation for trying to avoid the medbay at all costs is widely known throughout Torrent Company..

“Kix is going to have a field day. I’ll give it to general Skywalker, he has some creative hiding places,” he continues, eyes lighting up at the memory of Anakin, half hazardously crammed into a supply closet, folded in an impressive, yet uncomfortable looking position as he forced his unwitting tall limbs to fit in the cramped space.

Unfortunately for Kix, your masters habit of avoiding the medbay whenever possible has rubbed off on you, though, you don’t think it’s for the same reason. Your avoidance stems from a place of fear, and, okay, a stubborn insistence that you can take care of yourself, which yes, definitely like master, like apprentice.

But that also stems from a fear. You’re determined to prove yourself, especially being a young Padawan working with those who are much more experienced than you. You don’t want to risk being taken off the field because of some stupid injury, and letting those who rely on you down, especially your master, who’s always bouncing back and getting up and ready to take on whatever is next regardless of what kind of peril he’s just come out of. You want, you need, to prove that just because you’re a Padawan, you’re not a liability, but an asset. You can be strong and resilient like master Skywalker.

So, you avoid. You dodge and you ignore and you pretend not to notice when the routine medical check dates come and go without your attendance. You know it’s only a matter of time before Kix gets on your ass about it. You’re surprised that you’ve kept it up this long. But, this only bolsters your confidence in being able to avoid another successfully.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant, setting the paper back down on the table before you run off into the crowd.

*

Sure enough, there is an identical slip of paper that’s been placed on your bunk. But conveniently, Jedi master Aayla Secura is going on a diplomatic mission to amid rim planet in a last ditch effort to try and convince them not to secede from the republic during the date that’s listed on the page when you’re scheduled for your vaccinations.

Earlier this morning, master Skywalker had asked if you had wanted to join this mission, saying that it would give you a break from being on the frontlines, and it would be easy enough to arrange, as master Secura would rendezvous with the 501st before she departed.

This morning, you had turned him down, listing several reasons as to why you needed to stay with the 501st. Your troops needed you, diplomatic missions were boring anyways, and you didn’t think that you would be of much help to the experienced and capable master Secura, who was a formidable diplomat in her own right. You didn’t think you would be able to add anything of particular value to the conversation, at least nothing that master Secura wouldn’t be able to say much more eloquently and better.

Now though, the only thing that’s running through your mind is the fear of needles and the dread of going into the medbay and that’s enough to make you reconsider everything you had said.

When you tell master Skywalker that you’ve changed your mind, and would actually like to accompany Aayla on her mission, he’s slightly confused considering you had been so adamant that you were needed here only just a few hours ago. 

But, he knows that as a Jedi, you need diplomatic experience. Experience that, before the war, would be very easy for Padawan’s to come by. He knows that you don’t have nearly as much as you should.

These are unprecedented times, though, and Padawan’s being trained during an active war is not ideal. He wants for you to be well-rounded. He has hope that your future won’t always involve war at the centre of it, and any opportunity that you get to learn how to be a keeper of peace should always be encouraged, especially during these times.

 So he gives in pretty easily, and when master Secura arrives, you happily join her. When the ramp of the ship seals behind you and you’re sitting with her in the cockpit, the warm relief that flows through your bones is palpable. 

“Success,” you think to yourself triumphantly.

*

Your triumph, however glorious it might have felt in the moment, is short-lived.

In spite of the fact that some old injuries, that you honestly thought you had done a pretty good job at taking care of yourself, were starting to aggravate you again, the unexpected joy and relief that weaved itself through the force, openly shared between you and master Secura, surrounded you like a warm blanket, protecting you from feeling the things that hurt you.

The planet you had just visited had agreed to stay with the republic, after a tense three days of debate between its political factions. The victory Was a surprise, considering how vehemently the opposition pushed to secede, but it was not unwelcome.

Aayla’s T-6 shuttle docks in the hanger bay of the much larger 501st transport. As you wait for the doors to open and the ramp to fold down before you, you’re still riding on that high, feeling, for the first time in a long time, the thrill of a success. One that you are unable to feel on the frontlines, because even when your battles result in a victory, you are surrounded by so much death and violence that in the end, you don’t really feel like celebrating. 

You’ll never admit it to your master, but privately, you think to yourself that maybe diplomatic missions aren’t as boring as you thought they were. You were able to help resolve a conflict, peacefully, without even having to brush your fingers against the hilt of your lightsaber, which, nowadays, is becoming more and more of a rare occurrence. But it’s what Jedi do, or at least, what they’re supposed to do, so you have to embrace the gratitude of the experience you just had, and try and take it with you going forward.

Your thoughts are preoccupied with these ideas swirling around your head, so you don’t see him until you’re stepping out onto the ramp of the T-6, descending into the hectic and busy as usual crowds of the hanger bay.

When you do, though, you stop dead, and your heart begins to race. 

Shit.

Directly in front of you, at the bottom of the ramp, stands Kix.

One look at his expression, and your stomach flips.

His lips are set in a thin, unreadable line, his brow creased as he observes you with pinpoint focus. Stern, brown eyes observe your every movement. There’s no question that the second you step off the ramp, he’s going to pounce on you like a cat seizing a mouse. 

He stands at attention, body forced into an unbending straight line, such positions you mostly see on the shiny’s, new troopers who are freshly trained during their first days out on the field. His hands are placed on his hips, the position that he assumes before he’s about to give someone, it’s usually your master who you’ve seen it directed at, the lecture of their life.

“Keep moving,” your brain supplies. “Act nonchalant, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be fine.”

You feel your feet hit solid ground, and your speed picks up, all along, your brain is screaming at you to move. It’s weird how now that he’s standing in front of you, every injury you’ve accumulated over the past weeks is beginning to hit you, all comfort and protection that the force has been giving you to keep you going rapidly vanishing with each step you take.

The uncomfortable angle that your shoulder is sitting at, the pulling of stitches in your leg as you increase your speed. It throbs and aches with sudden abandon. But your fists clench, and you do your best not to falter under Kix’s unwavering scrutiny, just knowing that he’s looking for any flicker of weakness, any sign of pain that registers on your face.

“Just keep going, and maybe, you’ll be able to slip past...”

He steps in front of you, reaching an arm out to easily intercept your path. He says your name, in a tone that breaches absolutely no room for trying to ignore it.

You jump, startled in spite of yourself. He’s effectively got you cornered, and seeing that there’s no way out of this, Your nerves begin to skyrocket, raising like the sound of alarm bells in your head. You look up, eyes meeting his unwaveringly stern expression, And suddenly, you wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

He looks down at you, and he must see something in your disposition that belies your true feelings, because though his face remains set, his eyes somewhat soften, and when he next speaks, his voice is quiet but firm.

“Come with me, please. I need to see you in the medbay.” Though he’s phrased it as a request, you know that it is an order, and one that you must follow.

As a medic for the GAR, and this is something that you’ve heard him say to many a complaining troopers being escorted to the medbay when they don’t want to go, it is well within his rights to exercise such authority and make these orders. Because when it comes to the health and safety of every 501st personnel, whether you’re a Jedi general, commander, or Padawan, Kix immediately outranks you.

You look down at the floor, suddenly finding the marks that are speckled across it very interesting, and mumble a defeated and quiet “Yes sir.” 

When he turns, and you hesitate to follow, he lets out a gentle sigh, moving to place a hand on the small of your back. His voice is low, but reassuring as he ushers you forward.

“Come on, kid, you’re okay,” he breathes, and in spite of the fact that you’re still thinking that jumping out of an airlock would be better than this, your feet, still unwilling, but the slightest bit reassured, begin to move.

*

Coric giving you a subtle pitying glance as he’s reading over a patient’s chart when Kix escorts you into the medbay makes you want to vomit.

Between the two medics,  Kix has the reputation of being a hardass because he’s the CMO. Make no mistake, you do not want to get on either of their bad sides. But, given the choice between the two right now, you think you’re more equipped to handle Coric, who can usually be counted on to soften the blow a bit, with enough pleading glances and apologies.

Your eyes flit to the door that you’ve just passed through, because stupidly, your brain is still trying to make the calculations that if you can just duck out of Kix’s grasp for two seconds, you’d be able to make a run for it.

Unbeknownst to you, however, both medics have been carefully observing your every movement since you’ve entered. Coric, remaining completely calm and at ease, rises to his feet, moving swiftly to stand in the doorway in several long strides. He casually leans against the frame, arms folded.

“Don’t even think about it, baby Jedi. Your master has attempted the same thing you are considering, and he has always failed,” he says, keeping his voice light and non-threatening, making it clear that you need to give up on your fantasy of bolting out of here, but also not trying to scare you off..

You’re just beginning to wonder how the kriff they were able to read you so easily, with one covert glance determining that you were about to bolt when Kix removes his hand from the small of your back, instead, fingers coming to gently grip your shoulder.

The change in his hold is obvious. He is fully prepared for if you try to run. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, in what you interpret as a warning not to. 

Unfortunately, he’s just touched on an injury, you’re not entirely sure what you did, but you messed up your shoulder the last time you were on the field, and even the slight pressure elicits a sharp intake of breath that you’re unable to stop from escaping your lips, and that immediately has the attention of both medics laser focussed on you.

Kix’s anticipation evaporates and quickly melts into concern. Carefully, so carefully, he turns you to face him, keen eyes sharp as they analyze your face.

“Hey,” he calls softly, waiting for you to look at him. “Tell me where it hurts,” he says, so gently that it makes your eyes burn with shame. You look down at your feet.

“That’s uh... that’s, a loaded question,” you admit sheepishly, trying to keep your tone light and joking, in spite of the fact that now that you’re thinking about it, the list of injuries you’ve sustained without reporting to the medbay is a lengthy one, and might make Kix have a stroke.

Kix lets out a controlled, slow breath, eyes momentarily finding the ceiling as he silently begs the stars to give him strength. 

“Kaysh Mirsh solus,” he mutters to himself.

You’ve heard Kix toss that phrase around the medbay on multiple occasions, and though you’re uncertain of what it actually means, he usually brings it out when one of his brothers has done something that he would consider incredibly stupid, which is often.

Coric makes a noise of agreement. “It appears that our stupidly self-sacrificing general has passed on his stupid self sacrificing behaviour onto his apprentice,” he groans. “Will we ever know a day of peace?” 

Kix looks back down at you, his expression calm and restrained. “Come on, then, let’s see what we’re dealing with here,” moving his hand to your uninjured shoulder, he steers you both further into the medbay.

*

Your eyes don’t leave the ground, but you can hear the sound of a privacy curtain being pulled shut around the cubicle that Kix has brought you to. 

When an eerily familiar pink slip of paper is being held up in front of your downcast eyes, you cringe, Arms wrapping around yourself in defence

You can’t even pretend that you haven’t seen it before, because the words mandatory vaccination updates have been circling around your brain the whole time you were out on your last mission.

“Do you know why the GAR enforces these?” Kix begins, and his voice is too measured and calm. 

You lift a brow, questioning. Does he seriously expect you to answer this? Isn’t the answer obvious? 

“Uh... so that we don’t get sick?” You answer, uncertain as to what he’s getting at.

He nods, his face displaying a slight flicker of approval. “Yes, that is one reason as to why, and it’s an acceptable one,” he acknowledges. His frown deepens as he continues. “However, one must look at the much larger picture, at every personnel aboard this ship. The most important reason why mandatory vaccinations are enforced is so that we can avoid many people getting sick and spreading illness to the rest of the crew, so that we may remain fully functional and operational, continuing to serve and protect the people of the republic.”

You squirm beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. You’re starting to see where he’s going with this, and it’s incredibly discomforting.

“I would’ve thought, that as a Jedi, you would be able to more easily see this bigger picture than most others,” he observes mildly. “After all, I know, and I’m sure everyone who spends a considerable amount of time with you can see that there is so much compassion and care for others within your very nature.”

His voice is so genuine, laced with such real kindness in his tone that it makes your eyes sting. Your heart constricts, because he’s just pointed out something that you hadn’t even considered in your selfish haste to avoid this.

By avoiding your vaccinations, you have put every member of the 501st who works with you in danger.

Your arms wrap  tighter around yourself, and you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but at the pristine white floor beneath your feet.

Kix senses that he’s hit a mark, and his voice gentles considerably. “I also understand that you are young, and still learning to see the bigger picture and how your actions can affect those around you.”

“I, I didn’t, I was scared and I just I didn’t think about...” your voice trembles as you try to answer, tumbling out in a rush of words that race as quickly as your heart. 

“I understand, and it is perfectly reasonable for you to feel that way,” he keeps his voice level and measured. “However,” he continues, and you know what he’s about to say even before he says it. “We still have to face the things that scare us. If you had simply told me how you were feeling, we would have figured out a way to navigate it.” His face is reassuring when you dare to glance up from the floor that you’ve been resolutely staring at for this whole conversation.

“We still will figure out the best way to proceed. However, these vaccination updates are very low on my priority list of concerns when it comes to you, compared to this,” and he holds up a datapad, displaying medical records with your name typed neatly across the top.

The last several appointment entries are highlighted in red, indicating that you did not attend any of them. 

“Do I need to remind you that these appointments are not optional. Any member of Torrent Company who goes out on the field must report to the medbay upon return for examination, as well as attend our regular medical checks to ensure that you are fit for active duty.” It’s clear from the tone of his voice that this is a lecture that he is very practised in delivering.

You lift your head, finally looking directly at him. He’s already made you admit a fear that you desperately wanted to keep to yourself. You try and summon what remains of your dignity. 

“What do you want me to say, Kix?” There’s a hint of defiance in your voice. 

“Do you want me to admit that I avoided these because I had injuries that I didn’t want you to know about? Because yes, the truth is that I did.” Your eyes level with his as you try to make him understand. 

“I was scared of the medical procedures, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” You snap, not particularly annoyed with him, but more annoyed at the fact that your answers sound so stupid out loud. 

“But I was more scared of the fact that you were probably going to take me off the field, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t let that happen. My master was relying on me. Everyone was relying on me, and I couldn’t let them down.” You try to shrug off his concern with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Besides, I’ve been doing fine,” you say evasively.

Kix does not rise to the bate of your seeming anger. He’s much too practised and controlled to let it affect him. He also has the uncanny ability to look at someone, and see everything, read through their feelings, whether they’ve been acknowledged or not, and understand them. So, even though you’re trying to push him away, with what at first glance appears to be frustration, underneath it all, he can tell that it’s just as plainly  fear.

He meets your storm filled eyes unflinchingly, levelling you with a look that is equal parts stern and unwavering, and equal parts concerned and filled with compassion. It makes your insides twist with guilt, and you want to look away, but you can’t bring yourself to as he speaks, his voice calm but steely.

“Are you fine?” he asks, an eyebrow raising as he tilts his head to look at you, his gaze clinical, assessing, even as you just stand there in front of him.

. “I already know that there’s something wrong with your shoulder. But aside from that, I’ve been observing you since you got off your transport. The way you move is slow and careful, not at all like the usual way you dash around the ship. Even now, you’re hesitating to put much weight on your right leg.” He ticks off the things he’s noticed on his fingers like a list.

“Apart from the fact that skipping these mandatory appointments have consequences. If you had kept this up, I would’ve had to bring this to our superiors, that includes the Jedi council,” he gives you a pointed look, even the mention of the high Council makes you shiver. in your experience, whenever you and your master have been summoned to speak with the council, it’s always to be reprimanded, and never good.

. “You could have been Court-martialed,” he says, knowing that his words will hit the severity of the situation home.  

You falter, stepping back as you feel your eyes go wide. “Court-martialed?” you breathe, feeling the blood draining from your face. 

He gently takes your arm, guiding you to sit on a bed as he continues, voice softening. “It is very clear that you are hiding injuries, and though I can understand why, in premise, You did this, the reality is that this will begin to affect your performance in battle. It will not just affect you. You will put yourself, as well as the entirety of the people you are leading, in danger. People could get hurt.  You could get hurt. Because you would be putting not just yourself, but others, in unnecessary danger, your ability to be in the position of a commander could be called into serious  question by your superiors, and for good reason” 

As much as he keeps his voice low and calm, you can sense that he’s disappointed in the way that you’ve handled yourself. Your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, forcing the tears that prick at the back of your eyes to not fall. You hate disappointing people, and the fact that you’ve managed to disappoint Kix, one of the kindest people you know, makes you want to curl up into a ball and never show your face in public again.

“And that, the safety of yourself, and everyone aboard this ship, is my priority. It is much more important to me than having to report to any superior. The fact that you hold your safety, and by extension, the safety of  those around you, with such blatant disregard, is what concerns me the most, and that is what I need you to understand.” 

There’s a certain gravity in his voice that you’ve never heard before, but it slams into your chest and hits you like a ton of bricks. The implications of what you’ve been doing, of what could have happened to those around you, to his brothers, because of your inability to face your fears begin to swirl around your head with a rapidity that makes your heart race. 

These thoughts come unbidden, and too fast for you to process. The tears, that you’ve been so desperately trying to push back, spring free and begin to fall down your cheeks, unprompted, slowly, and silently. You don’t have time to stop them from coming.

Kix knows that he’s been very direct, and very blunt with you, deciding that this would be the only way to get through to you. He hates having to do it, though. Kix considers himself to be a fairly good judge of character, and he knows that you have such a caring, gentle heart and strong presence wherever you go. So, watching you break in front of him like this pains him.

Your breath hitches in an unsteady gasp as you look up at him, tears blurring your vision. 

“I’m sorry, Ori’vod,” your lip trembles as your voice breaks, wanting to curl in on yourself. “Ni ceta,” you get out in barely a choked whisper.

But he hears you, and it breaks him. 

You’ve never referred to him as ori’vod before, and the idea that you consider him as such, as a big brother, awakens his protective, instinctive nature to gather you close and keep you safe from harm. 

His Vod, mostly his batchmate, Jesse, calls it his mother hen instincts.

He can’t help it, though. Your voice, sounding so much smaller than he’s ever heard it, trembling and filled with tears, has broken what’s left of his resolve, and gently, very gently, mindful of the fact that you’re injured, he takes you into his arms, holding you close to him. Your head buries against his shoulder, and he easily cradles you there, feeling every sharp intake of breath as you cry.

“Oh, adika, shh,” he soothes, hand coming up to gently stroke your hair as he continues to speak softly to you. “You’re okay, I promise, everything is going to be alright. I’ve got you, we are going to sort this out.”

*

“Well,” he says, reading over the results of the medical scan he’s just performed. Would you believe me if I told you that a dislocated shoulder is the least of your concerns?” 

Your eyes find the ceiling, and you exhale a slow breath before asking, “how bad?”

He keeps his voice neutral as he relays the results of the scan to you. “According to your last medical check, you were diagnosed with Iron deficiency anemia, not incredibly uncommon, what with our limited access to rations and food with the proper nutrients,” his brow creases as he continues. “However, preliminary scans indicate that your haemoglobin levels haven’t much improved.”

He gives you a look.“You have been taking the supplement you were prescribed?” he asks, in a way that makes you suspicious that he already knows that the answer is no.

You avoid looking at him. “I was, but they kept making my stomach feel queasy all day, so I stopped.”  

Kix Lets out a long suffering sigh. “An issue that we easily could have rectified by changing your treatment plan if you had just let us know,” he scolds. “Nonetheless, I’d like to do a blood test to get exact confirmation of those levels and see how bad the numbers are so that we can Start getting them back up to baseline.” 

Your stomach does a flip and you cringe silently at the mention of a blood test.

Kix continues, consulting the scan results that are displayed on a datapad. “You’ve got untreated burns on your fingers.” He raises a curious eyebrow at you and your cheeks flush.

“They weren’t entirely untreated, I put them under running water,” you try to argue. The unimpressed look he gives you stops you dead in your tracks.

“It wasn’t entirely my fault,” you defend. “I was fixing one of the starfighters that got hit during our last airstrike. I got R2 to help me with the repairs but he wasn’t listening to my instructions. He crossed two of the wrong wires and caused the circuitboard to spark.”

“And that is why you should never ask R2 for help,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Those burns weren’t given time to heal, and the fact that you’re constantly wielding a lightsaber has exacerbated them. I will apply a burn ointment to them that should take away the pain and speed the process of healing.” 

He fixes you with a look.  

“The most concerning thing is The blaster wound on the front of your right  calf. Really, vod, you should know that injuries being treated and stitched up on the field, especially when not done by a medic, always should be looked over by a medic as soon as possible, due to the unsanitary environment that they were performed in.”

“Tup did his best to stitch it,” you say, feeling the need to defend the brother who, in spite of the fact that he was not a medic, sutured you up as you took cover from separatist battle droids.

“I don’t doubt that he did. I was the instructor who took every single one of the troopers on this ship through their mandatory medical courses, and I did not let them pass without proving that they were adequately able to handle emergency first aid on the field. However, it still remains that you’ve picked up an infection, and to treat it, the sutures will have to be removed, the wound reopened, and extraction of the infected tissue, as well as a course of both IV and oral antibiotics to clear up anything that remains.”

You stare at him, your eyes growing wide with horror as he explains. “How?” You ask, alarmed.

He senses your nerves and leans forward, taking your hand and running his thumb along the back of it reassuringly. “This is a surgical procedure, performed under general anesthesia.” 

You flinch at his words, and your fingers tighten around his with anxiety, needing something to hold onto. 

“I know that sounds scary, especially if you’ve never been put under before. But I promise, this is a fairly common operation. Me and Coric will both be here making sure that you’re okay the whole time.” he continues to stroke his thumb along the backs of your knuckles.

“Let’s take this one step at a time, though. We’ll take care of the things that are manageable, first,” he says, giving you an encouraging smile.

*

“Hey uh...” you say nervously, watching with anxiety fluttering in your stomach as Kix ties a band just above your elbow, prepping you for the blood draw. The way the band tightens, restricts  and squeezes around your arm Makes you feel trapped. You hate it.

“I have... I’ve had, issues in the past when it comes to these,” you say awkwardly, not knowing how to explain.

Kix only looks up at you, raising a perceptive brow. “Are you referring to your predisposition of fainting whenever a blood draw is performed?” he asks, completely unfazed. 

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows in questioning. “Don’t worry, Coric already has this listed in your file. I’m going to get you to lie down when we do it.”

He has the sensitivity and grace not to mention the fact that he also knows this because he walked into the medbay to find Coric absolutely tearing into a junior medic for letting you leave too soon after you had gotten a blood draw, resulting in you crumpling to the floor in a faint right outside of the medbay doors. 

At your continued staring, he adds, his voice softening. “It’s a normal reaction, that likely is exacerbated because of your low haemoglobin levels. There’s nothing wrong with you, Vod’ika.” he reassures, gently guiding you to lay down on the bed. “Now, just lay down for me, and we’ll get this over with quickly, and if you faint, you faint. It happens, no big deal, I’ll be right here regardless.”  

And because you’re you, you do faint.

The needle itself is always not as bad as you anticipate it being. The Sting, though prominent,  is small and quick and over before you have time to fixate on it. 

It’s only when he’s pressing a cotton swab into the crook of your arm, encouraging you to keep it in place while he puts a Band-Aid over top, that you register the familiar feeling of drowsiness, vision blurring and ears beginning to ring, that always comes before you pass out.

You think that you might give him some indication, some warning, because he’s removing your hand from where it’s been pressing against the cotton round, replacing it with his own, much more steady one. Everything around you is muffled, and it’s jarring, but in a way that is too far away from your immediate concerns to really react to it.

When you come to, he’s pressing a cool, damp cloth to the back of your neck, other hand gently stroking hair away from your forehead. His voice fades back into your consciousness, a stream of gentle, soothing words as your eyes flutter open.

The feeling of the cloth cools your heated skin, and the hand gently running through your hair brings your senses back to focus, grounding you.

“Easy, adika, i’m right here, you’re safe,” he brushes his fingers against your cheek, and when you react, leaning into his touch, he gives you a small smile. “That’s it, there we go, you’re back. Everything’s good,” he soothes, gently stalling your movement when you attempt to sit up.

“Not right now, vod, stay down for a few more minutes. I’ve already got the blood work running through the scanner, and we should have its results quickly, okay.” You give him a small nod, still not really having the energy to do much else. You close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you come back to yourself, and when the scanner beeps, indicating that it completed its diagnostics, you jump slightly.

Kix moves over to check it as you slowly sit up. “Okay, so, your numbers are definitely not nearly where they should be he says, clearly unimpressed.

“But, Once we have taken care of your more serious injuries, will start you with an iron infusion delivered through an IV before transitioning back to pills. Don’t worry, we’ll have you on a much smaller dosage so that we can hopefully circumvent the discomfort you had in your stomach,” he says with optimism, which makes you feel slightly better about the fact that he’s just mentioned an IV. You’re not given much time to fixate on it, though, because he’s already turning away from the scanner, moving back to you.

“Let’s not worry about that right now, though. We have enough problems having to deal with the mess That you’ve made of yourself. I will do my best to resist calling you a di’kut as much as possible,” he says, hands on his hips, and in spite of yourself, it actually makes you laugh.

*

You didn’t realize how sore and irritated the burns on your hands were until you couldn’t hold back the audible sigh of relief that fell from your lips as soon as Kix began applying the burn cream to them. The pain instantly vanished, leaving a pleasant, cooling sensation behind. He wrapped small bacta patches around your injured fingers, explaining that it would make sure that the healing process was unimpeded by the outside environment.

That was easy, quick, painless. 

Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. As soon as Kix touches it, as gentle as he can be, it flares with pain, and your muscles tense, which just makes it worse. 

“I don’t know how you’ve been functioning with this for as long as you have,” he comments dryly. When his fingers press against the bone, assessing the damage with a practised familiarity, you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

“Haar’chak,” you grit out, as behind you, Kix preps a syringe with local anesthetic. 

“Which one of my di’kut brothers taught you curse words in Mandoa?” he asks, beginning to disinfect the injection site.

You flinch at the cold and your cheeks flush. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to hear that. I can’t tell you that, I made a promise.” 

“Did you now?” he asks, fighting the amused smirk that plays on his lips. “Well, whoever it was, you might as well put your skills that they taught you to use.”

You look at him from over your shoulder, eyebrows raising in confusion.

He explains, “I need to give you an injection of local anaesthetic so that it takes the edge off of resetting your shoulder correctly. I know those aren’t your favourite , so, I am making a deal with you. Let me do this, and I give you free rein to throw whatever Mandoa insult my brothers have taught you at me, no consequences. Is that fair?”

The unimpressed look you’re giving at the syringe turns to surprise, then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face and you nod, quickly looking away from it. “Deal,” you accept, your voice still shaky with nerves but determined.

“Okay, deep breath for me,” He waits for you to inhale. “Perfect, now, on the exhale, give me that insult with all of your might. Ready?”

He waits for you to nod, then prompts you to exhale as he administers the anaesthetic into the back of your shoulder.

“Osi’yaim, that hurt, you di’kut,” what should be just a little pinch to your already injured shoulder makes you cry out the words, and you swear you can hear the familiar sound of Coric laughing from the other side of the medbay.

Your cheeks flush, you did not intend to be that loud. But you don’t apologize, either, and Kix only gives you a rueful grin, nodding in understanding.  

As you wait for the anaesthetic to settle, Kix warns, “I’m gonna be honest, kid, because of how long you’ve left this injury to sit, even with the anesthetic, setting it is still going to hurt.” 

You close your eyes, grimacing, before nodding with a sigh. “Do your worst,” you say, bracing yourself.

He lays a reassuring hand on your uninjured shoulder. “I need you relaxed, adika,” he says gently. “Trust me, it will only hurt more if you tense like that,” he continues, gently encouraging your shoulder downward with his hand.

“Easy, now. I want you to give me some good deep breath’s. In,” he inhales deeply, holding for a few seconds, “and out,” he lets his breath go in a controlled, slow stream of air.

He waits for you to copy, giving you a few breaths to settle into it as he prepares himself. “Perfect, just like that, keep it up, you’ve got this,” he keeps up the stream of encouraging words as carefully, but firmly, he rotates your arm, guiding your dislocated shoulder back into its proper place with one precise movement.

The sudden flare of pain, even dulled as it is by the anesthetic, takes your breath away momentarily, your vision instantly blurring with tears. When it clears,Kix has shifted to standing in front of you, gently wiping them away with his thumbs.

“Well done, vod’ika, you were so brave,” his words make you want to cry more, because you didn’t think you were brave. You thought that being brave meant confidence, at all times, and not letting other people see your vulnerability. You can’t fully understand it, but, now, you’re beginning to think that maybe your initial idea of bravery was wrong.

Your lip wobbles as you speak, “W what now?” you look up at him with wide, still watery eyes.

He gently strokes your hair. “Now, I’m going to get Coric, and you,” he playfully taps your nose, “are going to take a much-needed nap, if the bags under your eyes are any indication, while we take care of that leg wound.” 

*

It sounds simple enough. 

Kix explains the procedure while Coric preps you for surgery, making sure all your vitals are stable. As he wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, he tells you that that’s essentially his job while he’s in here. Throughout the surgery, he will monitor your vitals and make sure that they remain at safe levels. 

“I’m going to remove the sutures, clean the wound, remove the infected tissue, pack the wound with saline soaked dressings, then bandage it back up so that it can heal. It goes without saying that you’re going to be off the field for at least a week. You’ll need to stay here so that we can continue to monitor your recovery as well as change the dressings often. You will also need to undergo a course of IV antibiotics to kill off any lingering infection. This will also give us time to get your haemoglobin levels back up with an infusion.”

Your eyes close tightly as anxiety knots your stomach. “Oh, force, a week? But, my master needs me,” you protest.

When your eyes open again, both medics are fixing you with equally stern looks. “Your master needs you to be safe, and healthy,” says Coric, frowning, as he carefully attaches a pulse oximeter to one of your fingers. 

“If you want to be back on the field as soon as possible, you will take this week of recovery. If you want to argue with me about it, I will make it longer. A week is the absolute minimum,” Kix says, arms folded across his chest, wearing his signature “i’m the chief medical officer, you have no authority here,” expression.

You visibly deflate, reminding yourself that you pick and choose your battles, and picking and choosing a battle with two medics who are very competent at dealing with very stubborn Jedi would be a very stupid idea. 

You can’t help yourself, and in spite of the fact that you shouldn’t, you stare as Kix preps your wrist for an IV line.

Sensing you’re mounting anxiety as your eyes nervously flit around, watching  Kix’s Every move, Coric gently takes your other hand, squeezing when your eyes don’t immediately look at him. When you finally tear your eyes away from what Kix is doing, Coric is wearing a mischievous smile on his face. “So, Vod’ika, who taught you how to curse in Mandoa?” he asks, raising a curious brow.

You only scoff, rolling your eyes. “Kix already tried to find out. What makes you think that I’m going to tell that secret to you?”

“I’ve already got my suspicions. My moneys on Echo or Fives.” he gives you a wounded look, “I thought you would tell me, because I’m obviously your favourite.”

Kix uses this conversation to quickly insert the IV into a vein on your wrist. Reacting to the small pinch, your fingers instinctively tighten around Coric’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“You’re definitely my favourite now,” you grumble, giving Kix a sidelong glare.

He gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Vod, i’m going to run the medication through the line now. It will act quickly, and when you wake up, this will be all done with.” 

You nod, biting your lip nervously. Coric notices, giving your hand another gentle squeeze. “Hey, kid, I know you’ve heard Kix say kaysh mirsh solus all the time. Do you know what it means?” 

You look at him with curiosity, shaking your head.

“Well, essentially it means they are stupid or foolish. But, the literal translation is even more direct .” Coric gives you a conspiratorial smile.

“What is it?” You ask as he leans forward. 

“The literal translation means their braincell is lonely,” he says, completely serious.

You feel a smile pulling up the corners of your lips and a surprised laugh falls from them. 

You feel the medication beginning to enter your system, but you’re so busy laughing that you can’t bring yourself to care. “You better not be bullshitting me,” you threaten,“or I...” you let out a yawn.

“I swear to the force, I,” your eyes begin to flutter and you yawn again, shrugging.

“I’ll think about it later,” you mumble sleepily, before promptly passing out, smile still lighting up your face.

*

Your leg hurts.

That’s the first thing you become aware of as Kix is gently encouraging you to open your eyes.

“Come on, adika, open your eyes for me,” he says  softly, fingers gently brushing against your cheek to bring you back to awareness.

“But it hurts, and I wanna go back to sleep,” you wine, blinking sleepily up at him. 

“Ni ceta, vod’ika,” he soothes, fingers gently caressing your forehead in an apology. “I know it hurts, and you can go back to sleep soon, I promise,” 

He glances at something that you can’t see, giving a small nod,“Vitals look good, the anaesthesia is wearing off nicely, and it doesn’t appear to have affected them too much. Let’s up that IV dosage,” Kix speaks to Coric, who moves to adjust your IV out of your eyeline.

Your leg throbs, and you let out a stifled whimper, hand reaching down, trying to at least find the source of your pain when Kix catches it in his, gently stalling your movements. “Let’s leave that alone for now, vod’ika. Coric is just increasing your pain med intake, that will make it better. Then you can sleep,” 

At the continued expression of pain on your face, he lets go of your hand, fingers gently playing with your hair as he instructs, “nice and easy, adika, deep breath‘s for me, everything’s okay.” 

You don’t believe him at first, but slowly, things become okay. The pain quickly fades and dulls , breathing becomes easier, and your eyes begin to flutter. All the while, Kix continues holding his vigil at your bedside, fingers continuing to gently run through your hair until you fall into a natural sleep.

*

When you properly wake up next, the first thing you notice is that your leg doesn’t hurt anymore.

Whatever pain meds Kix has got you hooked up to are very effective, and your lips pull into a relieved smile. 

The second thing you notice, when you glance around to get your bearings, is the face of your very concerned captain, Rex, at your bedside. You blink slowly, yawning. Although the anaesthetic has worn off, the pain meds still have you feeling like you’re in a fog, and your brain is working pretty slowly.

“When did you get here?” you ask, confused.

“I came straight here after you never reported to the bridge for today’s debriefing. The general said that you would be back today, and it’s unlike you to miss or forget about meetings,” he explains, looking at you, relieved to see you awake, but a flicker of concern still lingering in his eyes.

“Osik, sorry, Rex, I got myself into a bit of a bind over here,” you gesture to the IV that you’re hooked up to, chuckling a little.

“So I heard, don’t worry about it, kid. There wasn’t much to report, anyways.” His head tilts, and he raises a questioning eyebrow.“Who taught you how to curse in Mandoa, vod’ika?” he asks, keeping his voice light.

If you weren’t under the influence of pretty heavy duty pain medication‘s, you would have restraint, you would have thought before you opened your mouth. But for Rex, it was his lucky day.

you smirk, “good old Hardcase taught me everything I know,” you say with pride, smiling fondly at the memory.

Rex carefully files that information away so that he can scold Hardcase for that once he leaves. But he carefully keeps his face neutral.

His face grows serious. “Kix told me about all the medical appointments you’ve missed and the injuries that you’ve been covering up,” his voice is stern, every bit the commanding officer that he is in front of the troops. It makes you nervous, and you swallow, looking away from him.

“I swear to the force, if you ever pull something like that again, I will find out about it, and I’ll drag you to the medbay myself, even if it means chasing you around the ship and stunning you if I have to. do you realize how much danger you were in? How much danger you put others in? That was extremely reckless of you, commander. I’m very disappointed in your actions,  and it will not happen again, do you understand?”

Your hazy memory recalls the conversation you had with Kix earlier, about this very thing, and for some reason, it hits even harder seeing the disappointment, worry and concern etched on the face of the normally composed captain.

Without prompting, you find yourself bursting into tears. 

Later, you’ll blame the pain meds on your inability to keep a grip on your emotions. But right now, all you can do is think about the people, the brothers, you could have hurt, the things that could’ve happened because of you, and the tears just fall down your face, streaming from your eyes, falling down your cheeks, into your ears, dampening your hair.

.“I I’m sorry Captain I I didn’t I,” you gasp out, trying to explain, but your brain is still foggy, only clinging onto the hazy images of loss and pain due to your inability to act fast enough.

There’s a reason why people are convinced that Kix has eyes on the back of his head. Working as the highest ranking medic in the 501st has trained him to be hyper observant of all of his patients, even if he isn’t at their bedside. 

So, even though he’s been taking the time to update your file on a datapad, unbeknownst to either you or Rex, he’s also been watching you like a hawk, and the minute you begin to show that you’re overwhelmed, he’s swooping in on the two of you, protective mother hen mode fully activated by the tears falling down your cheeks.

He steps in front of you, broad shoulders immediately blocking your view of your commanding officer. “Captain,” he says, and his voice is still respectful, but there’s a hard edge beneath it, something stern that you haven’t heard before, even during the worst of him lecturing you.

“You are causing undue stress to my patient, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir,” he continues, physically ushering Rex to the door.

More quietly, out of your earshot, he says,“I have already harshly reprimanded the commander. Trust me, this experience will ensure that the lesson will not be forgotten.  Now, if you want to be of use, get the general and bring him to me, please. I need to speak with him. Between you and me, Rex, I’m blaming this ordeal on him.” 

Rex begins to make an objection, but  Kix is already turning away, folding his arms. “I don’t care if you have to drag him out of council meetings. His Padawan is more important,” he shoots back, before quickly moving back to your side, all of his hard lines instantly fading at the sight of your tear streaked face.

He’s all gentleness and soft reassurances uttered as he cups your face, wiping away your tears. When you struggle into a sitting position, falling against his chest as your arms clumsily reach for him, his arms easily pull you close to him and you sob, trying to explain.

“Kix, I, I didn’t mean to, I never wanted to hurt anyone,” you whisper, clutching at him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, wanting to disappear, feeling his body shift, one hand splayed out, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles, the other coming up to cradle your head, holding you against his warmth, sheltering you.

“Oh, adika, shh, I know. You didn’t hurt anyone, vod’ika, nothing happened,” he coos, tightening his arms around you. Lips press against your hair briefly, and you continue to cry, letting your emotions run their course as he cradles you to him, gently rocking you back-and-forth, as if you were a much smaller child.  

In this moment, you certainly feel like you are, and it’s comforting, the way he holds and settles you against him , making gentle shushing noises and speaking in low, soothing tones, the words eventually losing their meaning as sleep, yet again, gently pulls at your consciousness.

The last thing you’re aware of is him gently guiding you to lie back down, another medic, you think it’s Coric, passing him a freshly warmed blanket that he tucks around you, and a hand gently brushing through your hair as you drift back to sleep, your storm settled and calmed by his words and his presence.

*

Anakin Skywalker had been in meetings with the Jedi high Council all day, was running on his 3rd cup of caff, and still found himself stifling a yawn every five minutes. So, when Rex silently slipped into the room, politely interrupting the meeting to request that Anakin report to the medbay, he instinctively rolled his eyes, grumbling that he would go later. 

But when Rex stated that this wasn’t actually about him, and was in regards to his Padawan, Anakin was out of his seat in an instant, hastily making his excuses to the council before leaving the room, legs carrying him to the medbay faster than he ever had moved there before.

He doesn’t even stop to look as behind him, Rex calls to a group of troopers in a booming voice, “Hardcase, get Over here right now,  you di’kut, I need to talk to you regarding professionalism when it comes to working with young Padawan’s .”

When he’s escorted into a cubicle, his eyes grow wide with alarm at the sight of you, peacefully asleep, but your face looks exhausted and worn out. You’re hooked up to an IV and monitors, there’s a thick bandage that’s been secured to the bottom half of your right leg.

Kix keeps his voice low and quiet, so as not to disturb you, but he fixes your master with a hard look as he takes him through an overview of your current health status.

“Iron deficiency anemia, burns, a dislocated shoulder, a blaster wound that had to be surgically operated on due to an untreated infection that had grown quite severe and needed to be manually removed, as well as several muscle strains and bruised ribs that can be healed with proper rest.” 

His mouth falls open at the growing list, but Kix only folds his arms, continuing to speak. “General, sir, your Padawan looks to you with the highest regard, and you lead the way by example. All of these issues could have been caught much earlier and treated without having to deal with all this,” he gestures at everything you’re hooked up to.

“This behaviour was learned, and when I pressed, I found that at the root of the problem was fear of disappointing you and letting you down,” he waits for these words to sink in, and when they do, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi general who is known for his strength and recklessness on the field, hangs his head with shame, eyes finding the floor and refusing to look at Kix directly.

His meaning is clear, you are his Padawan, and as your master, it’s his responsibility to set a good example for you, and in this regard, watching pain medication flow through the IV line attached to your wrist, he knows he has failed to do so.

“So, just maybe, the next time you decide that are mandatory medical checks are optional and you can manage on your own, maybe just, consider this,” Kix gestures to you, still deeply asleep.

Before your master can respond, not that he really has any words to do so, Kix turns on his heel, quickly exiting the room before he can be reprimanded for speaking to his superior that way, not that he really cares, anyway.

If he had stayed, though, he would have seen Anakin tentatively move to your side, gently sitting on the edge of your bed as he strokes back your hair and adjusts the blankets that are tucked around you, properly shamefaced as he looks down at you and says in a voice that is soft and rarely heard coming out of him, “I’m sorry, kiddo, this one’s on me.”

*

“And this,” says Kix, quickly injecting the third and final mandatory vaccination into your arm, “is your ticket out of here.”

The week of recovery has come and gone, And you have finally been cleared to head back onto the field, as long as you continue to follow a regimen of oral antibiotics for the next week, and, more excitingly in your opinion, get out of the medbay.

“There you go, you did it,” Fives, who’s been sitting across from you, happily agreeing to be your emotional support/cheerleader, ready with a damp cloth if you need it, does a little celebratory dance that makes you laugh, even as Kix, sensing that you’re feeling unsteady, gets you to lay down.

Fives gently places the cool cloth against your skin, and it’s enough to ground you, pulling you back from the edge.

“That’s it, Vod’ika, well done, you did great,” Kix says encouragingly, giving your shoulder a warm squeeze. “Now, wait 15 minutes, and as long as you’re feeling back to normal, you can get out of here,” he smiles down at you, patting your head affectionately before moving out of the cubicle.

As soon as he’s gone, Fives liens in conspiratorially, face lighting up with mischievousness sparkling in his eyes. “Hey, kid, I bet you 10 credits that I could easily sneak you out right now and we could make this 15 minutes go a lot faster,” he grins.

In spite of the fact that you smile back at him and laugh lightly, you give your head a small shake and throw a cautious look over your shoulder.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been here for a whole week, and the biggest thing I’ve learned is that  Kix and Coric do, in fact, have eyes in the back of their heads. We wouldn’t even make it out of the door.” 

It’s true, you’ve seen several different troopers trying to carefully sneak out of the medbay when they think that no one is watching. 

What you’ve learned, though, is that the medics of Torrent Company are always watching. Nothing gets past their keen eyes or ears, and no one successfully sneaks out undetected. 

You grimace, “besides, I’ve just gotten off of Kix’s bad side, and I have no desire to go back there.”

“So,” Fives says, resignedly coming to sit on the edge of your bed with a sigh. “We’re waiting the 15 minutes?”

You carefully sit up, giving him a nod and a decisive look as you lean your head against his shoulder..

“Yes, Fives,” you affirm, letting out a small sigh of your own. “We are waiting the 15 minutes.”

************************* thank you so much for reading. Comments and re-blogs are always appreciated here.are always appreciated here.

Mandoa translations. Kaysh mirsh solus, they are stupid/foolish. Ori’vod: Big Brother (in this instance) can also be used as big sister or big sibling. Ni ceta: i’m sorry. Vod: Brother/ sister/ sibling. Adika: little one. Vod’ika: Little sister, little brother, or little sibling Haar’chak: damm it. Di’kut: Fool (literal translation is underwear forgeter) which kills me. Osi’yaim: shithead. Osik: shit.