#where is cody? is he safe? is he alright? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvjunie · 2 years ago

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— when the dam breaks

contains: third person pov (42!miles’), no reader, feelings of anxiety, some harsh language, use of the n-word once, a one-sided fight, angst, mentions of grief, brief comfort at the end

summary: miles was holding himself together just fine, until he wasn’t. wc: 2,748

a/n: this fic is based on one of my headcanons from this post,(the 12th one). handling the grief of losing a parent is one of the hardest, most painful things to navigate, especially when you’re a teen and in school. i can directly relate to miles!42 because of this, which is probably why i’m able to go so in depth with his character. i’m really proud of how this turned out so i hope you guys enjoy reading <3

The back of Ms. Bellam’s history class was Miles’ favorite spot to sit in. The seat by the window, specifically. Where he could gaze out with the fantasy of being anywhere else but stuck listening to the lecture in his fifth block; forced to hear his teacher rave on about some old expedition he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about.

But today, Miles was not in the back of the class.

He had a bad feeling the moment the bell rung and the projector powered on to display the newest assignment the tall, stocky woman had on the agenda; a partnered project. Which, unfortunately, meant a new seating chart was on the horizon.

Miles must’ve spaced out during the introduction of the assignment, but his teacher’s assertive voice brought him back to the very moment he was dreading.

“Cody, you’re paired with—“ Ms. Bellam pulled a small slip of paper out from a little bucket of randomized names on her desk. “—Lauren.”

She ignored the quiet groan she got after unknowingly pairing two exes together and drew two more names. “Bailey, you’re with Lucas.”

“Sarah, you’re with… Faith. And Miles,” The brunette-haired teacher stuck her hand into the bucket once more to pull out the very last slip of paper, and read it with finality. “You’re with Gabby.”

Miles lifted his head and did a quick scan of the faces around, until he met the eyes of his new partner, Gabby, who gave him a small wave from the front of the class. His jaw clenched at the realization that he’d have to give up his safe corner, since the seats around him were filled, while the one next to her was open.

“Alright everyone, if you’re not already next to your partner, go find them.”

With an inaudible grumble and something along the lines of ‘i hate this fucking class’ and a mix of ‘kill me now’— Miles rose from his chair, snatched his backpack up with a little too much force, and crossed the classroom to plop down defeatedly next to the girl he was paired with.

Chin tucked in his hand and eyes glued to the ticking clock above the white board, he didn’t know how long he sat like that, or how much valuable information he’d missed while he ignored the overly peppy, thirty-year old’s directions to the class. But he did know that the minute hand on that damn analog device wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. The droning of voices overlapping and the bouncing of ideas filled the once silent air after instructions had been given, but Miles was far from focused on the task at hand.

The incessant tapping of his pencil against the hard plastic of his desk, matched with the clearly agitated bounce of his leg had his partner stealing experimental glances in his direction— her lips having been licked ample times from the stress of debating on whether to make the difficult decision of speaking to the boy who was clearly not interested in conversation— or even being here at all.

She spoke up anyway. “Um… So most of the other groups have pretty much chosen already. That means we’re left with James Cook, Vasco de Gama, Ferdinand Magellan, or—“

“You can pick for us. I don’t really care which one.” Miles interrupted.

“Oh—“ Gabby blinked. His response was curt, but at least she got one. “Okay then, Ferdinand Magellan.” Flipping through the rubric that had been passed out at some point, she referred to the second page with her index finger. “It says our presentation has to be between six to eight slides, which includes the works cited for our research. So we could do one introduction slide, and maybe about,” she paused to think. “Four?— information slides? And then we could add some fun facts and trivia questions at the end so we can get our class participation points in without too much effort. That cool with you?”

Gabby was a nice girl. She never bothered him, never looked at him weird when he’d come into class late sometimes, and had actually ran through the hallway to return the notebook that fell out of his open backpack just last week. He wasn’t aggravated at her, but more so at the fact that everybody could stare at the back of his head now instead of the other way around, like it was before. It made him self conscious about everything, even down to the way he was sitting in his chair. He could feel a few beams on his back right about now, and adjusted his position slightly.

Miles sighed and reminded himself to respond to her politely. “Uh-huh. Sounds good.”

A voice to his left behind him caught his attention, the voice in question belonging to one of the most obnoxious boys he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing— Ethan Thompson. Someone who always had too much to say and nothing productive or appropriate to add— it usually being something creepy or gross about a girl he wanted to ‘get to know’.

Miles would’ve tuned him out, like he always did, but this time it was impossible. Probably because out of all the conversations regarding the explorers meant to be researched, this one had absolutely nothing to do with history, or even school for that matter.

“Bro, did you hear about what happened to…”

Miles strained to hear as best as he could without moving from his seat, though it was a struggle since Gabby was still talking his ear off to the right of him about who would do what when it came to their workload.

“Miles?”

He ignored her as another voice chimed in, and his back stiffened.

“I know dude, my sister told me about it. Said he was killed in action or somethin’ like that… I just know his mom is crushed. I feel really bad.”

Miles knew people talked about this, he wasn’t dumb. But damn, did they have to do it when he was right there?

Then, there was a laugh.

Miles was confused. He didn’t find anything regarding the topic of their conversation even remotely comical.

“Fuck that,” Ethan quieted his voice, though not quiet enough. “That just means Mrs. Morales is single and up for grabs now.”

It took less than a second for Miles’ blood to simmer to a scalding boil. He held a subtle finger up and quieted Gabby, who was currently asking him about what they should research first.

“Can you give me just… one second?” he asked gently.

Gabby’s words died on her tongue and she gave a muddled nod.

Miles threw his elbow over the back of his chair when his torso whipped around, his eyes glazed with enmity and immediately catching Ethan’s.

“The fuck you just say?”

Ethan froze.

Miles’ tone was lethal, rage lifting the volume above the blurred chattering around, venom spitting from his tongue like he intended to kill the boy with words alone. The speed in which the class fell silent would’ve been humorous had there not been such hostility within the air.

“Miles, language!” Ms. Bellam’s eyes snapped up from her computer screen, her face a picture of disbelief at his unusual vitriol. He was always quiet as a mouse in her class, well behaved above all.

Jaws hung slack, the gazes of the students around darted back and forth between the two boys continuously, the tension in the room palpable.

Miles sat up straighter in his seat, jaw clenched and his patience dwindling. To say he was seething would be a dangerous understatement.

“Nah, nah Ms. B,” His head cocked, and his eyes narrowed at Ethan, ruinously. “I wanna know what this nigga just said ‘bout my fuckin’ mom.”

“Oh shit…” Gabby gulped. Today was the most she’d heard Miles speak in class almost the entire semester.

“It was a joke, bro.” Ethan huffed a chuckle, a nervous thing that his friend easily picked up on. Miles was not one to bluff, and Ethan was notorious for taking things too far.

“Don’t bro me, repeat that dumb shit you just said and watch how fast I knock your ass out.” Miles gritted through his teeth, hot air puffing through his nostrils like a bull who’d just seen red.

“Boys, enough!” Ms. Bellman was standing now, hands planted to her desk as she watched with bated breath, just like the rest of the class-now-turned-audience.

Ethan shrugged, and Miles swore he felt his eye twitch.

Strike one.

Then, the boy playfully nudged his friend’s arm with a cocky smirk, as if he thought the threat he’d just received wasn’t one that would be carried out.

Strike two.

“He’s baiting you, Miles…” Gabby whispered dejectedly, in warning, only so Miles could hear. But his tunnel vision had already set in.

“Go ‘head. Repeat yourself.” Miles demanded.

Nails digging into the skin of his palms hard enough to leave crescents in their wake, there was a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could get into serious trouble if he didn’t get his emotions in check, fast. He’d progressed so quickly in his after school M.M.A classes, that now, even getting into a simple fist fight could land him a serious assault charge. A judge would take one look at the history of his intense training, and the option to deem his hands as deadly weapons in the case would immediately be presented, and most likely acted upon.

Knocking the teeth out of a rich white boy would never be the smart decision here, especially not for someone who looked the way he did.

He’d be sent straight to juvie.

“I mean, all I was sayin’ is, technically—“ Ethan threw his hands up in a careless manner. “If I play my cards right, I could be your future step-daddy.”

Strike three.

Ms. Bellam was yelling now. “Ethan, principal’s office, now!”

And that probably would’ve been the better option, had he actually had a choice.

Miles’ movements were swift when he shot out of his seat, and the students in his way followed suit with yelps and gasps as they quickly removed themselves from the area. The desks blocking his pathway to pummeling the shit out of this kid loudly screeched against the school’s tile when they were shoved out of the way, and the one he’d mindlessly flipped over in his stampede proceeded to erupt the room into pure pandemonium.

One punch would’ve been good enough, Miles knew that. But in this moment, thinking rationally was so far out of his reach he would’ve missed it even if he’d jumped for it. He’d swung a closed fist to Ethan’s jaw and knocked him to the floor with ease, then followed him down, sat on his chest and had the boy’s arms pinned under his knees so he couldn’t protect his snobby-ass face. One punch would’ve been good enough, but just two vehement blows later, the satisfying crack of a bone that wasn’t his under Miles’ knuckles had him sending a few more into the reddened face of the boy beneath him, just to really get his point across.

“Jesus Christ— Miles!” Ms. Bellman scrambled from her seat in a panic and rushed to fling the classroom’s door open, her desperate yells directed to anyone who might’ve been strolling the hallways. “We need security in here! You-!” She pointed to a student with a bathroom pass. “Go get security, and tell them to come to room 205, now! Go!”

Everyone was yelling at once, but Miles couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing of rage in his ears. Anger is only grief turned sour— a terribly perilous thing to leave untreated.

Some of his classmates were frozen with shock, or fear, maybe— hands clasped over their gaped mouths while others had their phones out with the camera app open—vampires for some good drama while they hooted and hollered at the most exciting thing they’d seen this entire year.

“That’s enough!”

Strong arms suddenly hooked under Miles’ armpits and prevented his fist from worsening the damage already done. Two male teachers from neighboring classrooms had rushed in and yanked him up and off Ethan, his hips bucking as he kicked his way up onto his feet. Miles’ chest expanded and collapsed with the weight of his heaving breaths, face flushed with the remnants of his lost temper as he directed his attention to Ethan’s friend, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“When your boy wake up, tell him watch his mouth next time!”

Miles didn’t know why he was yelling. It was common knowledge that it’s pretty rare for someone who’s unconscious to understand what you’re saying to them.

He didn’t struggle when the two teachers dragged him away, but when they shoved him out the door and into the hall with more force than he thought necessary, he snatched his arms away from their grasp with a rolled shrug, and huffed a frustrated grunt about how he knew how to walk on his own.

—

The drive home was eerily silent. The radio hadn’t been touched, and neither had Miles by his mother’s gaze the moment they’d left the principal’s office after he received his verdict.

Out of school suspension. One week.

It was the best the administrative staff could do after Rio swallowed her pride and went as low as begging them not to expel her boy.

Slumped in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap, Miles didn’t bother to look at the bruises he knew were forming on his knuckles. It was a familiar feeling, and at the moment he was more concerned with why it felt like his throat had been stuffed with cotton when he tried to talk.

“Mamá, I—“

“Do not. Speak.” Rio’s breath wavered, her hands clutching the wheel so hard she thought she’d crush it. She tried not to let her voice break. “Not one word.”

Silence.

—

It all settled in as they climbed the stairwell, the images of what just happened flashing back in his mind every time he blinked; what he’d done playing over and over again in a continuous loop. The wooden railings creaked under the weight of his mother’s hand, and as she knowingly skipped the one that had weakened over the years, he knew the home that held every single emotion he tried to leave behind when he went to school was now just a few steps up.

Rio’s key twisted in the lock before she opened the door, and Miles followed behind her, shoulders slouched dispiritedly. He resembled something of a stray puppy; desperate for attention, but acceptant and grateful that it, as much of a nuisance as it may be, was being tolerated enough to stay on it’s finder’s heels.

He thought being scolded by his mother was bad, but the lack thereof was even worse. Her brows were clenched, and her conflicted yet somehow blank expression told him that she truly did not have any words for him as she leaned on the kitchen counter, hands clasped firmly around the edge so tightly her knuckles paled. She didn’t even know where to start, and Miles didn’t blame her. He refused to explain why he’d snapped when it was asked of him. When his mother’s widened eyes had pleaded with him to tell the principal what happened in that classroom that set him off in such a way, he didn’t. He had no reason not to, at least one he could think of right now, but his voice just wouldn’t allow it. Both in that office, and now in their kitchen, dimly lit by the warm light above the stove, the weight of his mother’s disappointment clung to the suffocating silence, like a fish to a hook and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mamá, I’m sorry.” He whispered in a quick breath, the lump in his throat painful when he swallowed it.

“Good money, Miles.” Rio shook her head, a hand coming up to rest over the rise and fall of her chest. “Good money! We paid good money to get you into that school, your dad and I. I work hard to keep you there and you just—“

Dad.

And the dam broke. Though its foundation wasn’t very strong to begin with— Miles’ shoulders crumbled under the weight of his actions and his tears flooded past his waterline with choked sobs that left no room for air.

Whatever Rio was going to say had been forgotten. The sight of her son sobbing in a way she hadn’t seen since the night they’d received the news immediately put a stop to her reprimanding. Now, she was truly worried.

“Oh Miles, come come come,” She hastily tugged him into a hug and wrapped him firmly in her arms, her hands repeatedly rubbing up and down the expanse of his back. “¿Qué es Mijo? (what is it, son?) Talk to me. No te lo guardes, ¿recuerda?” (no holding it in, remember?)

Miles could barely catch his breath, and somehow talking about it was just as painful as the ache that resided deep in his chest.

“I—It was Dad, it was about—“ a quick breath in split his sentence in half. “About Dad. He was—talking about what ha—happened and I—“ Miles tried for another, but it caught in his throat, ragged and choppy and had his ribcage stuttering from the lousy attempt to cease his hyperventilating. The fact that he couldn’t get his words out uninterrupted only frustrated him more; only made him cry harder. He scrubbed at his tears with the back of his hand, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

“He said—“ Another wilted inhale, and a hiccup. “It was abo—about you, and it was terrible and I— I just, I got so angry, and I tried Mamá, I did. But I couldn’t and—and then I was on him and I’m sorry—“

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rio used a hand to bring his head into her shoulder, his cries muffled and his tears wetting the sleeve of her blouse as his rambling came to a halt. Miles clutched onto her tightly, arms round her waist as he fell apart in front of the woman who’d tried her best to piece him back together.

“Respira, Mijo, respira… (breathe).” Rio whispered. “Please.” Seeing her son so distraught had brought on tears of her own, but she shut her eyes, and tucked away her own feelings so she could focus on his. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“But you’re mad at me, I don’t want you to be mad at me—“

Rio shook her head and tutted at him. “I’m not mad at you, papa. I understand. Okay? I’m not angry. No.” She couldn’t be upset with him for something like this, not when he could barely shelter himself from his own guilt.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Miles was inconsolable as Rio continued rubbing his back, and her voice shook when she spoke, but she kept the uncertainty she held within her heart concealed from her promise to him.

“We’re going to be okay.”

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse fanfiction #earth 42 miles angst #miles morales fanfiction #prowler miles fanfic #miles morales angst #tagging x reader for reach #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv angst #miles morales fic

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unexpectedtechnicality · 1 year ago

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4 Times Cody Felt Obi-wan Use the Force, and 1 Time it Was Someone Else

This is the first time I’ve published a fic! But I got very excited for Cody day and quickly finished up this little wip I had going.

Rating: T to be safe, Cody gets pretty injured at one point, but nothing is very graphic.

Light Codywan, about 4,900 words.

I’m very new to this, please let me know if there’s anything I should be tagging!

Rex, Cody decided, was a liar. Rex had fought on Geonosis. He claimed the jedi were astonishing warriors, brilliant strategists, excellent all around.

Well, maybe the problem wasn’t Rex’s integrity. After all, he hadn’t met his general until after the Battle of Geonosis. And he had never met Cody’s for that matter.

Not that High General Kenobi wasn’t an astonishing warrior, brilliant strategist, or seemingly excellent all around kind of guy. Just…Skywalker had gotten it somewhere, and “somewhere” was starting to sound a lot like “Kenobi.”

The original plan had been solid. Cody honestly couldn't have improved upon it. The problem had come when the charges went off early, cutting off their narrow rock bridge back to the Negotiator and stranding Cody and the general on the other side.

Technically that wasn’t the general’s fault. But if they had left a few minutes earlier…

“I’ve got an idea.”

Cody’s musing was interrupted by the general, who was staring off the edge of the cliff into the mist.

“Sir?”

“The canyon leads back around to the rendezvous point, it’s just a few kliks further.”

Cody stared at him. He couldn't really mean–

The general looked up serenely. “We’ll have to jump.”

Cody peered down into the mist. The ground was not visible. “Sir, we have no idea how far down it is.”

“It’s perfectly alright Commander. Just a slight detour.”

Sensible, Rex had said. They’re good leaders, they think things through. Cody was never listening to a word his brother said again.

Blaster fire sounded somewhere behind them. Kenobi smiled. “Now or never, Commander. I’ll go first, wait about 10 seconds and then jump.”

Before Cody could protest, he was gone. Kriff. His general had just committed suicide rather than be taken by the enemy and expected Cody to follow. This couldn’t be what the Kaminoans meant when they said good soldiers followed orders. What the kriff!

“Jump, Commander!” The general’s voice floated up from below, almost like it was too far to be heard properly. Had he even heard it at all?

A full platoon of droids appeared behind him. Cody glanced at them, weighed his options, cursed his short existence, his general, and Rex for good measure, then jumped.

He plummeted through the mist, tense, waiting for the crunch of his bones against the rocky floor. But before he could reach the bottom, the air seemed to condense around him. It was as though time slowed down. The mist thickened, and it nearly felt like he fell softly into a net, like he was still in drop training. Something felt familiar about it. Like someone he knew, or–

The mist cleared and there, a few feet below him was General Kenobi, hand outstretched and brow furrowed in concentration. Gently, he lowered Cody until his feet were on the ground, and the strange feeling surrounding him dissipated.

Kenobi grinned. “See? Perfectly fine.”

Cody could only nod vaguely, slightly stunned. “Yes….ah, sir.”

“Now come on, we don’t want to keep our men waiting, do we?”

Cody smiled, and despite his bucket still being on his head, it felt like Kenobi knew. “No, sir.”

Cody jolted awake, his comm blaring. It was his off shift, and they were slow traveling through neutral space. What could have possibly happened in the few short hours he had to sleep? He scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced to his left, where his chest plate was floating next to the lumpy pillow from—

Hang on.

Suddenly very awake, Cody surveyed the room to discover that something had happened to the artificial gravity on the ship and he was now floating in the middle of his quarters surrounded by his own armor and meager belongings.

Just great.

I’m assigning every man in maintenance to latrines for a month if this is someone’s idea of a practical joke.

Cody located his comm, floating a few meters away near the door. Angling himself that way, he kicked his feet and swam the best he could with his arms. After a few minutes, he managed to grab it and stop the infernal beeping.

“Go for Cody,” he snapped.

“Ah! Commander, sorry to wake you. We have a bit of a…situation.”

“You don’t say.”

He could practically hear the smile in Kenobi’s voice. “Yes, well, if you could meet me on the bridge?”

Cody rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Putting on his armor proved to be quite a challenge when all of it was floating in a different corner of the room. Cody ended up kicking off every wall, and the ceiling several times just to get kitted up. It took far longer than normal. Every time he wasn’t intentionally moving, he was drifting.

Slapping the control for the door while speeding at it was probably not the best strategy, but luckily it opened before he could slam into it. Then Cody began the arduous task of propelling himself to the bridge. Eventually he settled into a bit of a rhythm: kick off a doorway or wall, attempt to “swim” the right direction, then give up and desperately flap about until the destination was reached. Rinse and repeat.

The way to the bridge passed the mess hall, as well as several busy corridors. He passed brothers who seemed to be moving with ease through the space, tumbling slowly through the air, gliding from one doorway to the next. He passed Waxer and Boil as he flailed his way past the mess, both of whom took one look at him and burst out laughing.

KP for a week shut them up quickly enough.

When the bridge was finally in sight, Cody had just about had enough. The door slid open to admit him, presenting one of the strangest things he had ever seen.

The bridge was the picture of order. Officers floated near their work stations, calmly anchoring themselves with one hand or foot tucked into a chair or railing. As he watched, an engineer pushed off the central holo table and soared gracefully to the hyperdrive console, inputting numbers from above with ease.

At the center of it all, floating upside down with his robes billowing around him like a flower, was General Kenobi. When he saw Cody, gripping the doorway for dear life and gaping beneath his helmet, Kenobi smiled and lifted a hand, beginning to slowly turn himself upright to his usual spot on the walkway.

Cody gave himself a little shove, aimed for his typical spot next to the general, and crossed his fingers.

“Good to have you, Commander. As you can see, we got into a minor skirmish with a passing neutral envoy. We came to a temporary truce, but I’m still in discussion with them to see if they will continue to attempt to blow us out of the sky. One of their shots knocked out our artificial gravity.”

Cody was struggling to keep himself near the general. His initial push had gotten him nearly where he wanted to be, but he was drifting forward. He tucked in slightly, trying to roll himself back.

“I would like your opinion on a plan of attack should it be necessary. Over half the battalion is on rest right now, and I’d hate to rouse them.”

His roll had failed. Now Cody was drifting upwards to Kenobi’s right, slowly turning away from him. Letting out a frustrated groan, Cody attempted to twist himself back to rights.

“One option would be to— Cody?”

“Sorry, sir. Give me a minute.” He renewed his twisting efforts with more vigor. How was Kenobi staying in one place when— oh. The kriffing force. “General, uh. Would you mind—?”

“Oh! My apologies Cody. Yes, one moment.”

A light, warm pressure materialized at his right hip, then his left, and he began to turn to face the general and drift down to stand next to him. It was almost as if someone had put their hand– no, not someone. Kenobi. It was most definitely Kenobi’s hands resting comfortably at Cody’s waist, and now anchoring him to the floor. He turned to look at the general, and found his face much closer than expected, eyes seeming to bore right through his visor.

Cody felt his face heat under his bucket. “Uh. Yes. Thank you, sir.”

The general cleared his throat. Was it Cody’s imagination, or was he blushing too? “Of course, commander. Can’t have you floating away, now, can we?”

Force-Kenobi’s hands stayed comfortably at Cody’s sides the rest of the battle, and Cody…found he didn’t really mind.

His ears were ringing. Cody blinked, trying to clear his vision. What—?

There was a blast somewhere to his right. Instinctively, he tried to curl up to protect his head. Fire erupted across his left side, shoulder to knee, ripping a ragged scream from his throat. He flopped back onto his back, gasping for air. He must have been hit by a blast earlier. No way to tell how long ago.

“There!”

A med speeder pulled up next to him, and Neat, one of their junior medics hopped off.

“Don’t worry commander, we’ve got you.”

Last I remember Obi– the general was by me. The thought sent adrenaline spiking through his veins, pain forgotten.

“Neat.”

“Sir?”

“The…the general, he–”

“He’s safe, sir, please don’t move.”

Neat began running a scanner down his side, but Cody needed visual confirmation on Obi-wan. Obi-wan. He had asked him to call him Obi-wan, alone in his quarters, just a week earlier. If something had happened to him before Cody could figure out—

“Cody!”

Obi-wan came skidding to a halt next to their little party and dropped to his knees beside Cody. “There you are,” he panted. “Neat?”

Neat scowled. “He won’t lie still,” he griped, as Cody pushed up on his elbows to check if Obi-wan was hurt. “Sir, please—“

Finishing his once-over of Obi-wan (a few scratches and bruises but otherwise unharmed, unfairly he seemed to be glowing slightly in the setting sun), Cody finally let himself relax. “Sorry, Neat. Go ahead.”

As Neat did his scan, Obi-wan sent him a slightly reproachful look. “You took the brunt of the blast, Commander, not me. I’m perfectly fine.” He glanced at Cody’s side, brow furrowing.

The pain was starting to creep back, like several hot pokers lined up against his side. Cody leaned his head back against the ground. “Had to be sure. Couldn’t remember.”

Obi-wan frowned, looking even more worried, and the scanner beeped to indicate a finished report.

Neat swore. “There’s a lot of shrapnel in his side. He’s loosing a lot of blood. I need to remove what I can to staunch the bleeding now and then get him back to base to get the rest out. Possibly put him in bacta.”

Cody was starting to get worried. He tried to look down at the wound, but Obi-wan stopped him with a gentle hand under his chin. “It’ll be fine, Cody.”

Cody. They’d agreed no first names during battle (though Cody wasn’t counting the sanctity of his own mind, the one thing that was truly his own), if Obi-wan was calling him Cody, it was bad.

“General, I’m going to start operating, I might need you to help hold him down.”

Obi-wan shifted, taking Cody’s right hand in his own and holding tight. “Ready.”

Cody braced himself, but when Neat first started prodding at his knee he couldn’t hold back the grunt, gripping Obi-wan’s hand and twitching away from the pain. Neat waiting half a second, then started back in. Every touch felt like a brand, or like the time he had picked up the wrong end of a smoking blaster as a cadet. There were tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Obi-was rested his arm across Cody’s chest to keep him still.

Neat continued his field surgery. “This one’s in deeper. Take a breath, commander.”

Cody tried to do as he was told, but it was like a lance shot through his thigh. He bucked against Obi-wan’s hold, and Neat swore again as everything was jostled.

“General,” Neat pleaded.

“One moment.” Obi-wan shifted, moving so Cody’s head was resting on his knees. “I’m going to try something different. Cody?”

Cody nodded, hissing through his teeth, trying to ride out the pain. He watched above him as Obi-wan closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath.

The strange sensation of the air solidifying around him that Cody was beginning to recognize as the force surrounded him. A warm feeling, like a heavy, plush blanket pressed down around him. Experimentally, he tried to shift his right leg, and found that aside from breathing, he couldn’t move at all.

It’s should have alarmed him. But the soft, warm feeling wasn’t suffocating…it was comforting. It felt familiar, like the net had, and the hands when the artificial gravity had been broken. Like he was wrapped in a blanket of Obi-wan, or his presence, or something. He vaguely registered Obi-wan telling Neat to continue. Obi-wan rested one hand on the side of Cody’s head, cradling his face, the other supporting the back of his head, and Cody let himself relax into the touch.

The pain was still there, in his leg, now moving up toward his hip, but it seemed…muted. He blinked up at Obi-wan, the picture of serenity.

Alright?

If he could have, Cody would have jumped at Obi-wan’s voice in his head. But it just seemed…natural.

Yes, he thought.

Sorry, I should have asked if this was okay. I was worried.

It’s okay. It’s…nice, actually.

Neat had reached his side now, the familiar cool feeling of bacta covering his thigh. One tug made Cody flinch, and the force-blanket pressed down a little tighter, like he was wrapped up in a bedroll.

The warm, safe feeling was still present all over, but it was starting to condense in one spot, right at the base of his skull, under Obi-wan’s finger. A little bright spot, almost like someone had turned on a light in his brain somehow. It felt right though, especially in his slightly woozy state, so Cody didn’t question it.

Obi-wan and Neat were talking above him, but Cody couldn’t quite make out the words. That was alright, he thought. They would take care of him. Obi-wan said something that almost looked like “sleep.”

A nap didn’t really sound bad. Maybe he’d just shut his eyes for a few minutes. Obi-wan smiled down at him.

I’ll be there when you wake up.

And he was. Everything back to normal. The blanket-feeling was gone. But if Cody really concentrated, he could still feel that little spark in the base of his skull. The little spark that felt like Obi-wan.

At this point, Cody wasn’t even surprised when he and Obi-wan were separated from the rest of the men during the battle. This time, it had been a strange feeling in the force that Obi-wan had insisted on following, leading them through a strange cave system in the middle of the gigantic jungle that may have once been a temple of some kind. It had allowed them to sneak behind enemy lines and take out the tactical droid, allowing the 212th to finish the battle with relative ease, however, the feeling had also gone away quickly after, and Cody was beginning to think Obi-wan did not, as he claimed, remember the way back.

“The left tunnel. I’m sure of it.”

“Are you sure we haven’t been this way before, sir?”

“I thought we agreed on first names when we were alone, Cody.” Obi-wan set off down the left tunnel.

Cody snorted, but followed him, helmet clacking against his thigh plate where it was clipped at his hip. “We did. However we are technically on duty, and you’re being a stubborn bantha. Sir.”

Obi-wan turned with an expression of mock outrage. “Me? Stubborn? My dear commander, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Have you no faith in me?”

He gestured in front of them, and sure enough, there was finally light at the end of the tunnel. Cody just shook his head, smiling.

They emerged into the massive, muggy jungle and Cody immediately booted up his comm and nav, which hadn’t been working in the caverns anyway. The map of the surface he had downloaded popped up, with the little orange beacon marking their base. Several kliks away.

“I thought we entered the caves just a klik from camp?”

Obi-wan frowned. “We did. Where are we now?”

Cody lifted his arm to show him. “You’re sure you didn’t get turned around in there?”

“Of course not, clearly the caves changed,” Obi-wan said primly. “Well, I suppose we could go back in.”

“Absolutely not. We are staying out here and following the route back. It’s the same distance, just with sunlight.”

They walked in companionable silence through the giant trees for a while, stopping every so often to check the map. They must have passed at least a dozen trees with trunks so wide Cody couldn’t see the other side before he broke the silence.

“Obi-wan, can I ask you something?” The other man nodded. “A little while back, when I was injured and you…helped Neat operate, I think something else might have happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“While you were…talking in my head, it started to feel like there was…a spot. A light? A little patch of warmth, right at the base of my skull. And afterwards, when I was out of bacta, it was still there. It is still there. At first I thought maybe it was something medical, but Neat scanned me again and said everything was normal. The more I thought about it, the more I tried to…interact with it, I guess, the more I realized…it feel like you. Like you inside my head somehow.”

Obi-wan looked pensive. “Fascinating.”

“Do you know what it is? It doesn’t feel harmful.”

They waded through a small stream, and Obi-wan offered Cody his hand to pull him up onto the far bank.

“In the Jedi Order, master and padawan pairs typically form a force bond. A link that lets them communicate directly with each other, often feel what the other is feeling, form a deeper relationship with that person. Usually, it’s only possible for someone force sensitive to form bonds.”

Cody pushed a branch out of their way as they climbed over some roots. He could see where this was going. “But clones aren’t force sensitive, so…that’s not what this is.”

Obi-wan hummed. “I’ve heard of a few rare exceptions. The force is in all things, Cody.”

After a few minutes, Cody worked up the courage to ask. “Do you feel anything? In your head?”

“It’s difficult to tell. I do feel quite strongly about you, but I can feel you externally in the force. I also have several other bonds. Anakin and I never fully dissolved our training bond, and I have a small bond with Ashoka as well. I have a different type of bond with Quinlan, and sometimes I can still feel the remains of my bond with Qui-gon. I suspect it would be easier to tell if we communicated through the force but you and I never seem to have the need,” he said, smiling gently at Cody.

Cody smiled back, and some of the anxiety he hadn’t even realized he was feeling melted away. He glanced down at his map. “Should be just over this ridge.”

They came over the top of the hill together, and Cody had to bite back a groan of frustration. In front of them was a downed tree, one of the super massive ones with the unimaginably wide trunks. The sun was going down. They didn’t have time to go around, and the trunk was so high Cody wasn’t sure they could climb over. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution.

“Ah,” Obi-wan said, surveying the surrounding area. “I suppose we have to guess which was is shorter. We went left before, this time maybe we go—“

“Throw me.”

“I’m sorry?”

Cody grinned. “We go straight over. I run, and jump, and you throw me. Then you leap over after. We use the force.”

Obi-wan grinned back. “I don’t always say I believe in destiny, but surely Cody, you were sent to me straight from the force. Ready?”

Cody backed up, setting his stance. He was going to aim right for the center of the span of trunk in front of them. He nodded to Obi-wan, then took off running. Once he had reached top speed, he leapt into the air, and watched the trunk fly closer to his face until—

A warm, sweet smelling breeze, like freshly brewed tea swept him up, carrying him up, up, and over the trunk. He was so high the LAAT/is at the base below him looked like small animals, surrounded by swarms of tiny ant-troopers packing up to fly back to the Negotiator. Laughing, Cody did a somersault in the air as he flew over the tree, then spread his arms like he was parachuting and let the Obi-wan-wind carry him all the way to the ground, where he tumbled into the grass, still giddy.

A moment later, Obi-wan landed, cat-like, next to him, and helped him to his feet, laughing and pushing wind-swept hair out of his eyes.

“You’re right commander, that was much more fun than going around.”

+ 1

Cody crept through the hallway, blaster pointed ahead of him. A light flashed on his HUD, Boil checking in. Waxer was due in 5 minutes, then Wooley. They’d set up a rotating check in system as they fanned out to scour the seemingly abandoned ship they’d been sent to investigate. If you asked Cody, splitting up was just asking for trouble, especially since no one was with his trouble magnet of a general. But it was the quickest way to get them out of here, so he’d acquiesced.

Something rattled behind a door as he passed. He sighed, then pressed himself up against the wall, out of sight, and keyed the door open. Nothing jumped out, so he peeked around the corner.

It was a medium sized storage bay, and he was suddenly very thankful his door was obscured by crates, as he could hear vague voices coming from somewhere else in the room. The door slid silently shut behind him as he slipped in, trying to find a vantage point to see who was there through the crates.

He found a reasonably defendable spot in the corner and considered updating his men, but when he brought up his comm system it was like there was some sort of interference. Strange. No matter, they had his last location and his next check in was in only a few minutes, so someone would come join him eventually.

Through a gap in the crates, he could just make out two figures, one in a cloak and speaking to another cloaked figure who– oh. One figure, one hologram. Strange. They’d found no sign of crew aboard this vessel. He turned up his mic, trying to make out what they were saying.

“...plan has worked perfectly. They’ve already arrived,” the hologram was saying.

“Then they will soon be dead,” the other replied, and Cody’s blood ran cold. He suddenly had a very, very bad feeling about this mission. He knew that voice.

“I will leave you to your work.” The figure standing in the cargo bay removed her hood and knelt, confirming Cody’s suspicion.

Ventress.

Kriff. He had to get out of here, or signal his men, Obi-wan. He checked the time. His check in had passed two minutes ago, they’d be getting worried now. Slightly frantic, he tapped at his comm, willing it to work. What was the point of the kriffing antenna on his shoulder if he couldn’t get through? He remembered what Wolffe had looked like when he visited him in the med center after his encounter with Ventress. He couldn’t face her alone.

The crates surrounding him suddenly blasted away, leaving him exposed in his little corner. Cody looked up to find Ventress stalking straight towards him.

“Poor little clone, where did your friends go?”

Cody leapt to his feet, blaster already primed to shoot, when a wall of pure something slammed into him, forcing him to drop his blaster and throwing him against the wall behind him. Immediately he scrambled to get up, but Ventress threw one hand out, and a freezing cold vice closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground.

He clawed at the invisible grip, but there was nothing there. He choked, straining to get a breath, but it was pointless. She dragged him through the air, until he was just a few inches from her face. Cody’s bucket floated itself off his head, flying away and clattering to the ground somewhere. The pressure on his neck eased ever so slightly, and Cody sucked in as much air as he could before it tightened again.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” Ventress crooned, tracing one fingernail down his scar in a grotesque facsimile of how Obi-wan sometimes did when– focus, Cody. “Now. As much as I’d love to just kill you and get on with it, you know what part of the ship our dear Kenobi is on, don’t you?”

Cody tried to jerk away from the clawed fingers tracing his temples, but found the ice cold vice had spread to his entire body. He could breathe now, barely, but he couldn’t move even a single muscle. It was nothing like when Obi-wan had used the force around him before. That was…gentle, personal, it felt safe. This was anything but. Never before had Cody understood the raw power force users had at their disposal. It wanted to rip him limb from limb. Fear gnawed at his stomach. If only his comm had worked–

“Somewhere in that head of yours, we just have to find it.”

In his head. That was it! Desperately, as Ventress bared her teeth, Cody reached for the last warm spot on his being– a force bond, Obi-wan had called it. HELP, he thought, OBI–

Pain like he had never felt erupted from his temples, and he vaguely registered Ventress laughing as twin ice picks drove themselves through his skull, behind his eyes, in his brain, in whatever it was inside him that made him, him.

Cody screamed, frozen in the air, no way to escape as she tore through his mind, looking for whatever it was she wanted, Cody couldn’t remember any more. There was only the freezing, burning pain.

It could have been hours, could have been minutes, but without warning, the pain stopped, and Cody found himself flying through the air and into the far wall. Pressure like a million duracrete bricks immobilized him a few feet off the ground, limbs splayed out like a pinned bug. Blinking the haze out of his eyes, he was confronted with two blurry forms whirling around the room; red and blue lights flashing. As his vision finally cleared he could make out Ventress, locked in combat with–

Thank the stars, Obi-wan. There was a fierce expression on his face as he met Ventress blow for blow. As Cody watched, Obi-wan glanced his way for a split second, then went back to the fight with renewed vigor. Unable to do anything, Cody found his eyes drifting shut.

He woke a short time later when he tumbled to the ground in a heap, the force holding him to the wall having vanished. Obi-wan was hurrying over to him from across the room, Ventress presumably having run away. Cody groaned.

“Full evac, effective immediately. I’ll meet you back at the ship with the commander,” Obi-was was saying into his comm, several tinny “yessirs” echoing out of it.

“Cody, are you alright?”

Cody carefully felt along his throat with one hand. “Fine, I think. How–” he grimaced. His body felt like one giant bruise. He was still freezing. “How did you find me?”

Obi-was smiled wanly. “You called. I suppose it is a force bond, and does work both ways, though I can think of several other ways we could have tested it without you being in mortal peril.”

“I’ll try to remember that for next time.”

Obi-wan shook his head, reaching one hand out to the side. Cody’s bucket flew into it like it was magnetized, and Obi-wan carefully fit it back over his head, then gently pulled him to his feet. Cody half-expected Obi-wan to call on the force and simply levitate him back to their ship, but instead he hefted Cody’s over his shoulder and wrapped his own around his waist. His other hand came up to support Cody’s chest.

Cody leaned into him as they trudged back to the ship, letting Obi-wan take a fair amount of his weight.

“For the record,” he said, “I like it much better when you’re the one throwing me around with the force.”

“Careful commander,” Obi-wan teased, raising an eyebrow, “If someone hears you say that they might get the wrong idea.”

Cody glared at him, and concentrated all his effort on lifting one arm to smack him lightly in the chest. Obi-wan laughed, and Cody felt the world slide back into place around him.

“But yes, Cody, I much prefer that also.”

#Coday #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #codywan #star wars #Star Wars fanfiction #star Wars fic #fan fiction

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 months ago

Note

Can you write nsfw for Cody with female reader 👉👈?

I adored writing more for Cody, and I hope you'll enjoy this too~

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

“Truth or dare?”

You lean in, a playful grin on your lips as you think through your answer

“Mmh… truth”

The many drinks have started getting to your head, and you feel pleasantly warm and dizzy

And, it’s by no means the first time you’ve had the thought, but being able to look at him so closely like this without the burden of your inhibitions, it really makes you think—damn, he’s not too bad on the eyes

The brunet licks his lips, his gaze flicking down to your own as he does so, before he gazes back up at you with a mischievous spark in his eyes

“Boring” he accuses, flashing his teeth in a boyish smile before tilting his drink back to down a few mouthfuls

You click your tongue with a snicker

“Too bad—it’s my final decision,” you take a sip of your own poison, savoring the bitter sting of alcohol as it burns down your throat

You realize, once you’ve straightened back out, that he’s looking at the way your throat moves when you swallow down the liquid

“Besides,” you add, pretending you don’t notice his staring, “I’m not the one who has anything to prove now, am I?”

He huffs

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

He toys with his lip piercing between his teeth, and you suddenly wonder about the taste of metal against your tongue

“You’re the new guy—you should be the one worried about making an impression”

Having joined the mansion nearly four months ago by no means made him “new”

But integrating with the creeps was a long process; most didn’t take too kindly to newcomers

And, even considering those who were more welcoming, compared to the decades some spent at the safe-house, a few months was almost a laughable amount of time

Cody wouldn’t be able to shake the title of “new guy” for at least the next year or two—something that, despite his best efforts to cover, you knew bothered him deep down

He huffs again, this time with a roll of his eyes

“Fine, fine,” he rescinds, “be boring if you want to, then”

He downs another mouthful, and this time, it’s your turn to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs from the motion

You wonder how he’d look with blue and purple marks littering his neck

His eyes meet yours as he finishes the remainder of his drink, and a smirk widens on his lips as he catches you looking

“Alright, I have a question,” he states, like he suddenly just got an idea

“Shoot,” you shrug, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, even despite the way your blood’s warming in your veins

“Where’s the freakiest place you’ve ever fucked?”

The question, admittedly, catches you off-guard

You’re not sure just what, exactly, you expected, but it definitely wasn’t that, of all things

“Hm…” you hum, taking a second to think about your answer, “I guess, like… one time, I did it in a closet at a party”

You can’t help the flash of teeth that escapes your proud smirk at the sight of his reaction

Pretty brown eyes blown wide open in surprise, you wonder if he’d have a similar reaction to you flashing him right about now

“No way. Where—here? At one of the mansion parties?”

You don’t answer directly, but you can tell he knows he hit the mark just by the look on your face

“No way,” he repeats incredulously, “Recently? One of the parties when I was there?!”

“Ah ah,” you tut playfully with a wag of your finger, “You had one question, new guy—now’s my turn to ask”

He opens his mouth, as if to protest or argue, but then decides against it with a forced nonchalant shrug

“By all means, ask away”

You smile—tantalizing, teasing

“Truth or dare?”

Fuck, his eyes are gorgeous

The party lights hit them a certain way, at just the right angle to bring out the depths from within them

And it’s brief, but you swear you catch it all—his desire, his curiosity, his admiration—all in that split second before the angle shifts and the light flickers away

You’re sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room, and it's crowded as all hell, but it feels like it’s just you and him right now

“Hm…” he tilts his head, and your breath catches in your throat when he looks up at you through those long lashes of his

“Dare”

You grin

Something wide and brash and salacious but you’re too excited to hide it

“Dare you to let me touch you”

It’s, admittedly, bold

But you’re tipsy and horny, and it seems like a good enough way to get what you want

Judging by the way he’s been looking at you this whole time, he seems pretty receptive to it, anyways

Your dare surprises him—but he plays it off decently well, all things considered

“Straight to the point, huh?” he laughs

He takes another mouthful of his drink, and you eye him as he does, already mapping out which parts of him you want to lay your hands on first

When he brings his drink back down, he extends his hands either side of himself, bearing himself in a “go ahead” motion

“By all means,” he states

You’re suddenly nervous

You swallow another shot from your drink, relying on that liquid courage to smooth over your worries

And then, deciding it’s now or never, you reach out to him

You touch his chest first, hands pressing to the firmness of his body over his clothes

Compared to some of the other creeps, like Jack and Jeff, he’s definitely leaner, but he—by no means—isn’t muscular

You trace your fingertips down—down, down, down—all the way to his hips until you’re at the hem of his pants

He’s holding his breath

You wonder if you should reach further

And then you think—fuck it

You reach down and press against his groin

He’s hard

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering all of the heavy-handed back-and-forth up until this point

But you didn’t expect him to be this hard

You can feel him twitch up into your touch as you press against his crotch

He releases something like a quiet, shuddered breath

And when you look up, you find that he’s leaning his hips forward, but his head is tilted up in a barely concealed silent moan

He bites at his lip to keep himself from making any sound, like the minor sting from the bite could distract him

You run your hand up and down his length—once, twice, barely a third time before reluctantly pulling away

Only once you’re no longer palming him through his jeans do you wonder if anyone noticed

Was that obvious?

His gaze falls back onto you again—deep, heavily-lidded eyes that compliment his shallow breathing

And then he swallows back whatever was on the tip of his tongue, whatever he was just about to say, and asks instead

“Truth or dare?”

His voice is breathy, almost shaky, and you relish the sound

“Truth”

A look of what could almost be considered betrayal flashes over his face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the sight of it

He wants more—that much is obvious

But you want to keep this little game going, want to keep the odds in your favor

You want to see how far you can push him

How much you can wind him up before he snaps

“How badly do you want me to fuck you right now?”

It’s your turn to be surprised

You swallow, your throat tightening and your stomach coiling with a pit of warmth

“Badly,” you answer honestly, before you can even consider lying

Your voice is almost a whisper through the desire constricting your vocal cords

“Truth or dare?”

You don’t waste time returning the question

“Dare”

“I dare you to touch me”

Something flickers in his eyes

It’s that look of I thought you’d never ask

He reaches for your thighs first, lingering the pads of his fingers at the hem of your skirt

You lean back on your hands to subtly tilt your pelvis in his direction

And when his fingers graze along the patch of skin right beneath your skirt, you’re almost disappointed thinking he won’t go any further

But then he pushes up, tracing along your inner thigh, and just through that mere touch alone, your stomach flips in excitement

Your body’s aching for him

As soon as he presses against your slit over your underwear, you have to hold back a shudder

The muscles in your abdomen tense

He huffs out a breath to mask his groan as he feels your arousal even through your underwear

“Naughty girl,” he murmurs

He rubs lazy circles with his thumb, gazing at you through heavy lids like he’s gauging your every reaction

Your breath is heavy, chest rising and falling with the effort it takes not to moan

You want him—you want him so, so fucking badly

You know it’s probably just the booze talking, but at this point, you don’t even care if anyone notices

Still, for the sake of your own reputation, you try to stay as still as possible

You try not to move or sway or grind yourself down on his hand, even as he presses just slightly harder, and even as it starts to feel like a pressure’s building in your core

It’s agonizing

You let him toy with you to his heart’s content, until every stroke up and down your slit is sending waves of heat up your system

Stay still, don’t move, don’t make a sound

You try to repeat the words like a mantra in your head, but the alcohol is making everything feel dull and fuzzy, and even without meaning to, your hips buckle and your thighs tense from his touch

“Truth or dare?”

His voice is low and gravelly when he asks the question

Dark eyes pierce right through yours, laced with hunger and impatience

You flush—the intensity of the eye contact while he continues his ministrations making you feel so, so weak for him

“Dare”

You don’t know why now—of all times—you pick dare

But you do know that as soon as the answer escapes you, you pray his dare will be filthy

“I dare you to let me make you cum”

It’s as if the gods of sex and intoxication heard your prayers

His response has your stomach clenching already in anticipation of your climax

You don’t trust your voice, so you merely nod and bite back whatever sound’s threatening to escape your lips

Your answer’s all the confirmation he needs

He pushes your underwear to the side, and as soon as his bare skin meets yours, your walls try to squeeze around something that isn’t there

He takes in a sharp breath through his nose as he feels the sheer amount of slick coating his fingers

Up and down, he leisurely gathers your arousal—almost as if to see just how much you can possibly produce

And fuck—the wait for him to finally finger-fuck you is driving you insane

You’re on the verge of making some impatient comment, when, as if sensing your agitation, he finally sinks two fingers into your folds

It punches the air out of your lungs in some undignified whimper

With all of his attention focused solely on you—on your expression, on your body’s reaction—it feels like you’re at the center of his world

When he curls his fingers up and drags his touch against that certain spot inside of you, you consider it somewhat of a miracle you manage to stay quiet

In and out, in and out, he repeatedly brushes right against your most sensitive spot, and it feels like your body’s burning with need

You’re certain it must be obvious by now—between the jerking motion of his hand beneath your skirt and your inability to remain still, how could anyone not know what’s going on?

Your only hope is that the lights are dim and it’s crowded, and you’re huddled together in a corner on the floor

So maybe—maybe it’s not that bad

It’s all you can tell yourself to try to convince yourself this is fine

Because at this point, even if you did get called out, you’re not sure you’d want him to stop

You squirm, your body tensing and fluttering around him, and it’s like the more you try to remain in control, the less you can stifle your faint little whines and whimpers

You’ve no choice but to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to force yourself to keep it shut

“Fuck, atta girl~”

Even in the dim lighting, you don’t fail to notice the way he subtly shifts to readjust his dick in his pants

You’re about to make some teasing comment about it—because even though he has his hand between your legs and you’re just about drunk on the cusp of your orgasm, you don’t want him to realize how much control he has over you

But then he jerks his fingers harder into you and your head rolls back and every fibre of your being tenses

“C’mon baby, cum for me. Be a good girl and cum around my fingers—“

His low, husky commands have you teetering on the precipice of your climax

You try to stave it back—try to remain in control of your own body—but the more you hold it off, the more the pressure builds

You bring a hand up to your mouth, brows knitting in bliss if not for the worry about being way too loud lacing your features

And then he murmurs out some other filthy nothings, and his thumb reaches up to jerk your clit harder—and you just can’t help it anymore

In the middle of a party, out in the open, you cum—hard

The music and indistinct chatter is the only thing stopping everyone from hearing your slew of muffled cries

Your cunt clenches and spasms around his digits, and it only encourages him to keep pumping them inside you until you’re squeezing your legs shut to make him stop

Panting and shaking, you watch as he pulls his fingers free, which glisten in the LED lights with your arousal, and pop them between his lips

He looks beyond ravenous for more as he savors your taste

And even though you’ve just cum, it has yet another wave of thrill rushing down your spine

“Truth or dare?” you ask again, your breaths low and shallow

A glimmer of curiosity sparks in his eyes, as though he didn’t expect you to want to keep playing

“Dare,” he answers

You don’t hesitate as you give your response

“I dare you to come to my room tonight”

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x virus #x virus x reader #creepypasta x reader smut #x virus x reader smut

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fangirlforeversthings · 10 months ago

Text

Where is cody?

Is he safe?

Is he alright?

I gotta know!!

#i can't sleep peaceful at night until i know he is alive and safe and home with obi wan on tatooine #missing pookie #please come back home #we miss u #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fandom #revenge of the sith #the clone wars #clone wars #commander cody #codywan #212th attack battalion #212th battalion #212th #clone troopers #tbb #the bad batch

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ddeck · 2 years ago

Text

*puts a sticker on your forehead*

#he has been gone for more than 170 days #im coping just fine why do you ask #where is he tho is he safe is he alright #note to self stop doing lineart when you havent even done the sketch #cody my beloved #commander cody #the clone wars #tcw #star wars #deckdraws

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advisorykitty · 2 months ago

Note

I NEED CAT-NAP PART 2 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭ME AND OOMFS R UR BIGGEST FANS

Rat Runners and Fury

How could i say no to my biggest fans! ^_^ this also gave me a good reason to write lmao

The day started innocently enough. The Ivory household was relatively quiet for once. Nyen wasn’t stomping around, Nyon was “borrowing” more magazines from who-knows-where, Randal and Sebastian had gone and some odd adventure something about cody at the gas station Master Luther was resting and the ratmen were… well, alive and causing chaos somewhere as usual. Perfect time for a little covert operation: feeding the ratmen. Again.

You crouched low in the pantry, carefully packing up a small stash of scraps—half a loaf of bread, some almost-cheese, and a suspiciously soft apple. “Alright, guys,” you whispered, peeking into the crack in the wall. “You know the drill.”

Robert poked his head out, his nose twitching nervously. “You sure about this?” he whispered back. “Last time, Nyen nearly turned me into a throw rug.”

“Relax,” you said, stuffing the food into a small cloth bag. “I’ll handle Nyen if he shows up. Now, hurry up before he—”

“HEY!”

Too late.

Nyen’s voice roared from somewhere down the hall, and the ground shook slightly as his heavy boots stomped closer. The ratman froze, his eyes mildly wide.

“Run!” you hissed, tossing the bag into Robert’s thands.

The ratman bolted, scurrying through the cracks and crevices of the house with impressive speed. You spun around just in time to see Nyen appear in the doorway, his eyes blazing with fury.

“TRAITOR!” he bellowed, pointing an accusatory claw at you. “You’re feeding them again?! You sneaky little—!”

“What?” you said, feigning innocence. “They looked hungry.”

“They’re always hungry!” Nyen snapped. “And you’re making it worse! Where are they?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, shrugging. “Maybe you should… cool off a little?”

Wrong answer. Nyen’s tail lashed like an angry whip as he stormed past you, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. “I can smell them,” he growled. “Where’d they go?”

You followed him, keeping a safe distance as he stomped through the house. Meanwhile, you casually dropped little clues for the ratmen to follow—a tap on the wall here, a soft whistle there. You couldn’t see them, but you knew they’d pick up on the signals.

Nyen suddenly stopped, his ears twitching. “There!” he snarled, lunging toward a small crack near the baseboard.

“Um-! not so fast!” you said, stepping in his way. “Maybe you should think this through. You’re scaring the rats.”

“Good!” Nyen barked, shoving past you. “They deserve it!”

In the next room, you heard the faint scuffle of feet. Robert was close to his escape route. You quickened your pace, throwing Nyen off just enough to give them more time.

“Over there! They went that way!” you shouted, pointing in the opposite direction.

Nyen paused, glaring at you suspiciously. “Why are you helping me all of a sudden?”

“Maybe I’m tired of stale bread,” you said with a smirk.

He didn’t buy it for a second. With a guttural growl, he turned back toward the crack in the wall, but it was too late. The ratmen had already slipped through their escape hole and disappeared into the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the house.

“NO!” Nyen roared, slamming his fist against the wall. “Goddamn rodents! Traitors! EVERYONE IN THIS HOUSE IS A TRAITOR!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Better luck next time, big guy.”

Nyen turned on you, his face a mask of pure rage. “You think this is funny?! You think you can just waltz around here undermining me?!” He stepped closer, his chest heaving. “You’re worse than the rats. Worse!”

“Aw, you say the sweetest things,” you said, grinning.

That was the final straw. Nyen snarled, grabbed your shoulder, and shoved you back. You stumbled but quickly recovered, twisting to throw off his grip with a dramatic, exaggerated spin. The move sent you both off balance for a second—comically enough to make even Nyen pause in confusion.

“What the fuck was that?!” he bellowed, his tail swishing furiously. “You’re messing with me now! ON PURPOSE?!”

“Sure am,” you said with a grin. “And I’m winning!”

Nyen let out a guttural scream of frustration, storming off down the hall while shouting a barrage of curses that grew increasingly incoherent. You caught words like “ungrateful,” “goddamn meddler,” and something that sounded suspiciously like a threat to ship you to Siberia.

You watched him go, trying not to laugh too loudly. “Better luck next time,” you muttered to yourself.

“You… stop,” came a thickly accented voice from behind you.

You turned to see Nyon standing there, holding a half-eaten pickle and looking unusually serious. His eyes—normally glassy and disinterested—were fixed on you with surprising intensity.

“Stop?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Stop what?”

“Annoying Nyen,” Nyon said slowly, his Russian accent thicker than usual. He gestured vaguely with the pickle. “Not… good. He… uh… very mad. Not safe.”

“What’s he gonna do? Growl at me some more?” you said, brushing it off.

Nyon shook his head, his expression unreadable. “No. He do…” He paused, struggling to find the words. “He do… bad. You stop.”

“What kind of bad?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Nyon opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of something crashing in the distance cut him off. He glanced over his shoulder, his usually relaxed demeanor slipping into something closer to… fear?

“You stop,” he repeated firmly, stepping closer. “Not joke. Big bad.”

Before you could press him further, he turned and shuffled away, muttering something in Russian under his breath.

You stood there, frowning, your mind racing. What did he mean by “big bad”? And why did he look so worried? Sure you pissed Nyen her and there but he wouldn't actually hurt you.. right?

Maybe this game with Nyen wasn’t as harmless as you thought…

(kinda short sowwy T-T)

#ranfren x reader #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #nyon ranfren #fanfic #nyon and nyen #randals friends

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paracosm-draw · 4 months ago

Text

Promptober Day 9 - Warmth ☄️

Tags : medical terms, injured Anakin, naked bodies, no smut

~~~

They were in the middle of the battlefield, rain pouring from the sky and making the ground muddy and slippery. All around, the fast bolt of the blasters pierced through the downpour, illuminating briefly the masks and faces of the Republic army.

Obi-Wan was on the front line, fending off shot after shot with his lightsaber to allow his men to progress. He was almost blinded by the rain dripping on his face and pooling on his eyebrows, hair stuck to his temples and neck, his damped clothes rubbing unpleasantly against his cold skin with each movement.

He was pushing away another battle droid when the Force shifted suddenly, twisting and straining the bond he shared with Anakin with such strength he fell on his knees, gasping for air as his chest clenched violently. The Force howled in agony around him, tossing him around as if he were a blade of grass in the midst of a hurricane of emotions, images and sensations flashing through his mind so fast he couldn't tell if they belonged to him or not.

Fear. Anger. Pain. Regrets. Pain. Pain. Pain. Solitude.

It lasted for what seemed to be an eternity, pulling at Obi-Wan’s intangible energy from all sides and so hard he was sure he was going to break. Then, as suddenly as it started, everything withdrew, every feeling, every sound, every image and he was left breathless and disoriented in the middle of the chaos. For a terrible, gut wrenching second he thought that the steady and familiar thread uniting their soul had been severed, teared apart and his heart stopped beating at the implication.

No.

“Anakin…” He breathed at the same time a strong pair of hands lifted him from the ground and put him back on his feet.

“Are you okay, General ?” Cody’s concerned voice asked from behind his helmet.

“Anakin.” He said again, still shaken to the core by what he just experienced. “Where is Anakin ?”

The clone frowned behind his mask, noticing the Jedi’s blemish face and wide eyes. He was too well trained to ask useless questions, especially as they were right in the middle of the fight and totally exposed, so his brain moved on to the next sensible thing to do now : take cover.

“He was just next to the cliff last time I saw him.” He answered, pulling Obi-Wan by the arm and shielding him with his own body until they were safe behind a large rock. “Do you want me to comm him ?”

“I don't know.” Obi-Wan swallowed, unable to think clearly. “I-”

“General.” Cody put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly, the gesture grounding Obi-Wan a little bit. “What happened ?”

“I can’t feel him anymore.” The Jedi whispered. “I think something happened to him”

Cody stayed silent for a while, letting the sounds of the blaster shots, the explosions and the screams fill the space between them as he calculated a change of plan.

“Alright.” He said eventually, typing something on his commlink. “I’m coming with you.”

Obi-Wan knew that removing two men from their forces, let alone a Jedi, was not a strategic choice at all. But the visceral terror that gnawed at his guts right now prevented him from feeling guilty about it. All that mattered was Anakin.

Reaching the cliff took more time than Obi-Wan had anticipated. They still had to fight their way until there and the whole time the Jedi was projecting his life Force around to try to find Anakin’s signature somewhere, anywhere. But he remained untraceable.

They searched all along the cliff’s edge, screaming for his name in the chaos of the battle, asking everyone on their way. Cody even checked the bodies lying in the mud, aware that Obi-Wan would refuse to even think about that eventually.

“General.” He called after several minutes of vain research. “He could have fallen down the cliff.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and walked to the edge, looking down at the river rushing a dozen of meters below.

“General…” Cody approached carefully. “If he fell… You have to consider the possibility that he didn't-”

“No.” Obi-Wan interrupted him. “He’s alive. He has to be.”

“There’s a lot of rocks.” The clone replied quietly but not unkindly. “Such a fall would severely injure anyone. If they’re lucky.”

“Anakin is not anyone.” Obi-Wan replied stubbornly. “I’m going to find him. You don’t have to come with me.”

Cody shook his head and put his blaster back in the holster strapped around his waist.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

They find Anakin a mile away down the river, his body laying on a flat rock, face down. Obi-Wan runs to him, panic wrapping around his throat and suffocating him as he notices blood all around him, mixing with the rain.

“Anakin !” He chokes, letting himself fall by his side and wincing when his knees hit the hard ground for the second time today.

Gently, he grabs him by the shoulders to turn him on his back, dreading what he’s about to discover.

Anakin’s face is stained with blood that still drips from his forehead, sticking to his curls and damping the collar of his tunic. He probably hit his nose hard enough to make it bleed too, as well one of his lips and he has small contusions on his cheeks and jaw. He’s pale, so frighteningly pale.

Obi-Wan presses his fingers against his pulse point while Cody kneels on his other side, doing the same thing on his wrist. It takes a few excruciating seconds for them to feel something, a weak fluttering pulse that makes Obi-Wan’s eyes sting with pure relief.

“He’s alive.” He breathes shakily.

“I’m calling for a ship.” Cody says immediately, getting up again to comm one of the pilots.

Obi-Wan quickly checks Anakin’s body for other obvious injuries in the meantime. He doesn’t seem to have any open wounds but he doesn’t dare move him in case he risks making things worse. What if his spine is damaged or he suffers from internal bleeding ?

The only thing he allows himself is to place his hand on his cheek, pushed by the imperial need to feel him, to make sure he’s alive and breathing. His heart sinks when he notices how cold his skin is. Without thinking, he removes his own robes to lay it on Anakin’s body. It’s a useless gesture but he can’t stand the idea of his golden, always warm boy being frozen to the bones.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, gently pushing Anakin’s drenched curls from his still face. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me.”

When the ship arrives, Anakin is picked up on a stretcher and taken away to the tiny medical unit it carries. Obi-Wan silently blesses Cody for having the presence of mind to ask for a medic, gaining precious time for Anakin’s life. They don’t have a lot of equipment but they have enough to stabilize him until they’re back to the base.

The doctor asks them to help remove Anakin’s clothes while he puts an oxygen mask on his mouth and nose. He checks his vitals again, not satisfied about the results.

“He's unresponsive.” He says with a frown. “He might be in shock. He’s also hypothermic and injured, so we will have to act according to an order of priority.”

Obi-Wan nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“I’m going to put him on warm fluids to help his body fight the shock and hopefully help him heat up a little bit.” The man explains quietly. “Then I'm going to take a blood sample to see if something's happening inside. If everything is fine, we’ll have to find a way to get his temperature back to normal, or at least, decent.”

“How ?” Obi-Wan asks.

As far as he knows they only have a limited stock of blankets and no heating pads.

“With the most wonderful and efficient source of heat I know.” The doctor answers. “Human’s heat.”

“Oh.”

Obi-Wan blushes slightly without knowing why. His gaze falls back on Anakin, so pale and so cold under his thin cover.

“Um, okay. I can- I can help with that.” He says with his steadier voice. “Just tell me what to do.”

“For now, wait until he’s stable.” The man replies, focused on putting a catheter on the inside of Anakin’s arm. “Then undress and hold him tight.”

Obi-Wan can’t help but blush fully at the blunt, clinical way the doctor states the whole thing. As if it’s a usual life-saving procedure. Maybe it is. Obi-Wan is no doctor after all.

He watches quietly as the man fusses around Anakin, branching him to a little bag of fluids and to a little machine monitoring his heart and respiratory rates as well as his temperature and level of oxygen. When he’s done, he looks over to Obi-Wan and gives him a nod.

“It's your moment.”

“Okay…” Obi-Wan approaches the bed hesitantly.

“I’m giving you some privacy.” The man says, gathering Anakin’s wet clothes to go make them dry somewhere. “I’m coming back in half an hour to check on him. Call me if something goes wrong in the meantime.”

“Understood.” Obi-Wan nods. “Thank you.”

When he's finally alone in the tiny medical room, the unit separated from the main room of the ship by a thin curtain only, he starts peeling off his soaked layers, realizing how cold he felt too now that a part of the adrenaline had worn off.

Anakin is still immobile on the small bed, just as pale as the sheets. Obi-Wan hesitates to keep his underwear but the fabric is as drenched as the rest of his clothes so he decides against it. His modesty is no match against Anakin’s life.

Taking two more blankets on his way, he slips by his side into the bed, shuddering when his cold skin presses against Anakin’s even colder one. After putting the extra blankets mostly on Anakin’s side, he wraps his arms and legs around his still, freezing body and holds him tight as the doctor asked.

At first it’s very unpleasant, Obi-Wan shivering in their shared wet coldness and thinking they were never going to warm up ever again. But after a while, the blankets start to do their job, preventing whatever warmth Obi-Wan is producing from escaping and progressively raising the temperature in the tight confines of the bed.

Later, Obi-Wan feels warm enough to stop shivering, and exhaustion starts numbing his mind and body, making him close his eyes without noticing.

When the doctor comes to check on Anakin, he finds them both asleep, Obi-Wan carefully but tightly wrapped against the younger Jedi in a protective, life-saving embrace.

Even later, when the sun starts to fall on the system, Obi-Wan is awakened by light movements against him. Emerging with difficulty from the deep slumber he fell in, he lifts an eyelid and he’s faced with Anakin's confused face and fluttering eyes.

“What happened ?” He murmurs.

“You fell from the cliff.” Obi-Wan replies in the same tone. “You almost died. But I found you.”

Anakin frowns and manages to pout.

“Didn't fall. Been pushed.” He mumbles.

“You managed to reach the shore.” Obi-Wan says. “Do you remember ?”

Anakin shakes his head.

“I only remember the cold. I was so cold. Never been that cold in my entire life.”

He frowns again then, slightly raising his head to take a look around, then at Obi-Wan, then under the covers.

“Why am I naked ?” He squints. “Why are you naked ?”

Obi-Wan fails pathetically against his own body when he tries not to blush.

“The doctor said you were in hypothermia. Someone had to keep you warm.”

“It was a life or death situation.” He adds for good measure.

“I see.” Anakin smirks, making the blush on Obi-Wan’s face spread to his chest. “Thank you for saving my life, then.”

“You’re welcome.” Obi-Wan mumbles, trying to hide a part of his face in the pillow.

“I’m still a bit cold, though.” Anakin grins. “I could probably still die.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, the heat coming from his face probably enough to keep Anakin warm for the century to come.

“Come here.” He grumbles, opening his arms wider, and Anakin loses no time snuggling against his chest, almost ripping the wires monitoring his health. “Careful, you’re still in a bad state.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The younger Jedi whispers against his neck, closing his eyes again.

Obi-Wan can't help but smile, slipping his fingers in the mass of golden hair curling on his head.

“How are you feeling ?” He asks.

He can feel Anakin smile against his skin, his fingers tightening around his waist. His heart is beating peacefully against his own. Beating, pumping life into his body. Obi-Wan has never heard a more beautiful sound.

“Warm.” Anakin answers.

#obikinpromptober2024 #i love when they're injured sorry #obikin prompts #obikin fanfic #obikin #anakin x obi wan #obi wan x anakin #aniobi #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars #my writing

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