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hood-ex · 3 years

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This is a fic written for @stxleslyds! The prompt was: a fic with Dick, Roy and Lian spending time together in the Outsiders era. Thanks for the donation, Tati 💙.

Important: This fic takes place a week after the events of Outsiders (2003) #19.

“We could use you here,” Roy says. Even with his voice coming directly through the comm, Dick almost doesn’t hear him say, “I need you here.”

A soft wind blows through Blüdhaven, ruffling through Dick’s sweat-matted hair. What a filthy night it is for a Friday. Thunder rumbling in the distance with hot, humid air filling Dick’s lungs. It’s the kind of air that isn’t natural for a place like the ‘Haven. It’s here for whatever reason, and it’s no better now that the sun has been replaced by pink and purple neon lights flashing across the strip. It’s nights like these that Dick can admit to missing his red tunic and green shorts. It was shit to wear them in the winter but an absolute godsend in the summer.

Dick sighs deeply, moving away from the ledge of the building and away from his view of the herds of drunk people whose laughter echoes between the bars and casinos. There’s a tall HVAC unit in the middle of the building that he walks over to and sits against. The fabric of his suit rubs against it, and he squirms a little at the uncomfortable position. He bears it because this is a conversation that requires a little support.

“Dick.”

“I know,” Dick mutters.

He should be under the streets of Brooklyn the same as all the other Outsiders should be. Considering the circumstances, it’s no surprise that some of them have deserted the ship for the time being. Licking their wounds in private so to speak. Dick’s not proud of it. He tacks it onto his mental bulletin board of shame where it sits up there all torn and ugly like the rest of his deplorable moments.

“I’d feel better if you were here to watch Lian when I step out of the room,” Roy says in Japanese. Dick’s brow furrows. Either Lian is in the same room as Roy and he doesn’t want her to know they’re talking about her or there’s an Outsider nearby that he doesn’t want listening in on his personal issues. “She hasn’t started therapy yet and her separation anxiety is still high.”

“High for both of you,” Dick points out. He thinks back to a few days ago when Roy had called him in a panic because he’d left all of his groceries in the middle of the store after his paranoia got the best of him and had him running back to the base to check on Lian.

“Tell me about it,” Roy laughs dryly. “I feel like I’m going fuckin’ nuts, dude.” The strain in his voice sends a full body shiver down Dick’s spine. “All I can think about is whether she’s okay and if the base is protected enough, and if I can really trust everyone here. You and Kory are the only ones I feel okay leaving her with.”

You shouldn’t trust me like that, Dick thinks bitterly. Lilith and Donna trusted me with their lives and look where they are now.

“Everyone else is… I trust them as teammates. I trust them with my life. But I can’t—"

“Trust them with Lian’s,” Dick says, knowing how much this whole situation has fucked with Roy's ability to trust anyone and everyone. Except him and Kory, apparently. Probably Ollie and the rest of Roy's family too.

He thunks his head against the HVAC unit and stares up at the dark sky. Not a single star up there, he thinks, and something like guilt burns in his chest. You took them all with you, didn’t you, Donna? Put them in your pockets and faded away. “She might not be comfortable with me there,” he says after a moment.

It pains him to think that Lian could be scared of him. Scared of him because he looks similar to one of the blue-eyed, dark-haired kidnappers who murdered her babysitter and then branded her like cattle. That type of trauma association doesn’t go away after a week.

“Kory told Lian you might stop by, and you know what Lian asked her?”

Terrible things flash through Dick’s head. Things like words born of fear or disgust. He hugs his arms around his knees and squeezes them tight.

“No, what did she say?”

“She asked, ‘Is Uncle Nightwing gonna bring Blue’s Clues with him?’”

A smile tugs at the corner of Dick’s lips and his eyes start to sting. He can’t believe that’s the first thing she thought of. It only seems like yesterday that he was watching Blue’s Clues with her in Titans Tower. Sometimes he would pause the show and ask Lian questions about each of the clues just to hear what kind of outlandish answers her kid brain could come up with. Other times the detective in him couldn’t help but steer her towards a logical answer. Roy used to always roll his eyes and tell him to stop trying to turn her into a mini Nightwing.

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be okay seeing me in person and you know it,” Dick reminds him.

Roy’s sigh is soft and muffled in his ear. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dick’s not one to wait around.

“Let’s cross it now.”

“You’re coming over?” Roy asks, and even though he mostly sounds neutral, Dick can hear the disbelief hidden under it all.

If there was an award for the world's most shitty friend, Dick would probably be in the lead to receive it. Here Roy is dealing with the fact that his daughter was abducted and almost trafficked, and what’s Dick been doing for the last few days instead of sticking by his side? Working himself to the bone in Blüdhaven, that’s what. Hiding away from the fact that he almost lost another important person to him. Trying to avoid the crushing weight of failure that clings to him like a second skin.

Pathetic. Some safety net he is.

“Yeah, give me an hour,” Dick says.

The commute from Blüdhaven to Brooklyn isn’t bad at this time of night. Most of the traffic is packed downtown where all the bars are lined up. Dick takes the highway to avoid the worst of it.

The roar of the city dies off once he goes underground. Down here the HQ looms over him in all its steel glory. Dick’s always thought of it like one giant elevator. It’s all hard angles and sleek, silver walls. Hardly a place one would describe as homey, but it was home to a few people nevertheless.

Dick goes inside after getting his eye and hand scanned by the computer. He heads down the hallway, keeping his footsteps light and quiet out of habit. So far there’s no sign of Jade, Indigo, or Rex in any of the rooms he passes. They’re the most likely to be here around this time. From what Kory told him the other day, Grace has been spending most of her time clubbing, and Anissa has been staying with her dad. He hates to admit it but it’s almost a relief that he doesn’t have to worry about running into either of them.

He ends up finding Roy and Lian in the rec room. Lian is sitting on the leather couch in the middle of the room. She must have had a shower not too long ago because her hair is a little damp and she’s wearing a pair of purple pajamas with unicorns on them. A Cinderella blanket is strewn across her lap and a stuffed rabbit sits discarded on the floor by her feet.

Roy looks small squatting in front of her. His pants are the only sign of his Arsenal gear, and it makes Dick feel slightly out of place since he’s still decked out in full mask and suit. It’s the first time Dick’s seen Roy in person since they brought down Tanner’s operations a week ago. He looks how Dick would expect any parent to look after being targeted by a major sex trafficker: stressed and exhausted.

Those tired eyes of his shift to the doorway where Dick stands, and Dick can see the way Roy looks him over from head to toe, assessing Dick’s condition. He can look as hard as he wants, but he won’t find anything. Dick keeps his face blank and unreadable.

“It still hurts,” Lian whimpers, and both Dick and Roy's attention immediately snaps back to her.

She wraps her arms around her stomach and bends over her lap like she’s going to throw up all over the floor. Roy doesn’t move to try and avoid any possible bouts of vomit. Nothing happens as the seconds tick by. No retching or anything. There’s only the sound of Roy’s hand rubbing up and down Lian’s arm.

“Me and your Uncle Nightwing are gonna get you feeling better soon,” Roy assures her in a gentle voice. “And guess what?”

Lian makes a questioning sound in the back of her throat.

The look Roy shoots Dick is somewhere between caution and amusement. “He’s been playing quiet mouse behind you this whole time.”

Dick braces himself as Lian shoots back up like a rocket. “He’s behind me?” she asks, twisting around in her seat. Dick’s heart starts jackrabbiting because what if she’s scared of him? What if he accidentally triggers her PTSD? What if— “Uncle Nightwing!” Lian shrieks.

Relief shudders through him because she sounds happy to see him. Not scared or angry or disgusted like he feared. She’s looking at him like he just told her he brought her a bag of candy, and that revelation is enough to make him take a breath and finally enter the room.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick says, hurrying over to the couch so that she doesn’t have to get up. “I missed you.”

Lian reaches for his hand and holds on to it. It’s not like the hug Dick usually gets from her and maybe that’s because she doesn’t want anyone touching her back after the incident. Dick will take anything he can get. His much larger hand closes over her own and he swings them back and forth lightly.

“Me too,” Lian says. She squeezes his hand three times. “Why do you still have your gloves on?”

“My hands are cold,” Dick lies. “Why were you bent over like an accordion just a minute ago?”

“Her tummy’s been hurting,” Roy says with a frown.

“It’s because tigers used to try and eat people,” Lian tells him matter-of-factly. Roy looks like he’s about to correct her but she quickly hurries on. “My brain says there’s danger and it makes my tummy stop working.”

A lightbulb goes off in Dick’s head as he realizes that she’s describing anxiety. A simplified explanation of how the digestive system shuts down and sends blood to other parts of the body when there’s danger.

“My tummy does that too,” Dick says after a pause. “I get a lot of anxiety sometimes. Do you want me to show you how I try to make it go away?”

Lian scrunches her nose. “Do we have to take medicine?”

“Nope. All we need to do is sit up straight and breathe. Breathing really deep helps our brains calm down and makes our tummies feel more relaxed,” Dick explains. He sinks down on the plush couch and demonstrates how she should be sitting. “Now move back until you’re sitting like me.”

Lian does as she’s told and scoots back until she’s resting against the back of the couch. Dick only remembers how short she is when he notices how her feet stick out straight in front of her instead of dangling over the edge of the couch.

“Now tell your daddy to get in position.”

“Daddy,” Lian slaps the free cushion beside her, “sit next to me.”

“Magic word?” Roy prompts.

“Please,” Lian pouts.

“That’s better.” Roy’s knees pop when he shifts out of his crouched position. The whole couch rocks when he falls back against it. “What’s the strat here, Wing? We need to close our eyes or what?”

Dick wants to ask him why he’s acting like he’s never done this before but the playful words stick in his mouth like glue.

“We’ll close our eyes in a second. Lian, I want you to watch how your daddy and I take really deep breaths, okay? Then we’re all going to do it together.”

“I can take really big breaths!” Lian insists. She scrambles out of her pose and gets on her knees. Her little fingers wrap around Dick’s bicep as she leans in close to him. “I can take one million breaths as big as an elephant!”

The tired and apathetic part of him tells him to ignore her kid logic and to get back on track. The uncle part of him is another story. It wants him to be fun and helpful. To distract Lian from the worries and fears she has.

In the end, he does what he always does best: puts on a performance.

“Oh yeah?” Dick challenges with a grin that hopefully doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “I can take five billion breaths as big as a planet.”

“Elephants are bigger than planets,” she says.

“I think maybe the elephants are only bigger in your dreams.”

“Yeah, they are,” Lian agrees because she’s a typical kid who will support anything that proves she’s right in some capacity.

Roy looks amused when he puts his hands on Lian’s shoulders and steers her to sit back on her bottom. “Alright little missy, no more talking. We’re gonna do what Uncle Nightwing says now, okay?”

“Okay,” Lian agrees, looking over at Dick expectantly.

Coaching Lian through the exercise is easy. The most important part is making sure she’s taking breaths that are deep enough to make her stomach expand like a balloon. Dick has her place her hands on top of her stomach so he can see them rise when she inhales.

Roy follows along and Dick can tell that he’s taking advantage of the exercises for his own benefit. His face looks peaceful and relaxed as he follows along with Dick’s instructions to suck in a breath on the count of one and exhale up until the count of ten.

“Keep focusing on counting,” Dick tells them while they exhale. “We don’t want any other thoughts in our heads. No bad thoughts or funny thoughts. Only think about counting to ten.”

They run through a few more cycles. Dick’s pleased when he hears both Lian and Roy’s stomachs grumbling as they exhale. It’s a good sign that the deep breaths are massaging their organs and decreasing any kind of stomach pain.

“That’s it,” Dick says. “We’re all done.” He opens his eyes and sees Lian slumped against the back of the couch. Her hands are still resting on her stomach, but she looks languid instead of tense like she was when he first saw her.

“I’m tired now,” Roy says. His movements are slow as molasses when he slides forward to the edge of the couch and bends over to rest his arms on his thighs. He looks at Lian. “How about you, princess? You feeling any better?”

“Mhmm. My tummy doesn’t feel really uh…”

“Tight?” Dick offers.

“Yeah, it’s not so tight anymore.”

Roy pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good. Mine feels a little better too.”

“Can we do Uncle Nightwing’s breathing thing again tomorrow?” she asks through a yawn.

“Sure thing,” Roy nods. His attention shifts to Dick. “Are you gonna still be here to lead us through it?”

This isn’t some kind of test but it feels like one. It feels like if he says no then he’s only proving that he’s a bad friend. That he can’t be relied on. He doesn’t want to give Roy that impression because it’s not true. Roy can rely on him the same way Dick relies on Roy. He hopes showing up here tonight is proof of that.

“That’s the plan,” he says, voice soft.

Roy leans over the couch and squeezes Dick’s knee gently. “You sure?” he asks, and his eyes roam over Dick’s face like he’s trying to find evidence that Dick is lying.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He pats Roy’s hand reassuringly in the same way Alfred's done for him and Bruce a hundred times. It's only now that he realizes it's a habit he's picked up.

Lian suddenly leans into Dick’s side and presses her weight against his arm. She pats both his and Roy’s hands.

“I’m sure too,” she says, and this time Dick can’t help but smile.

#Dick Grayson #Roy Harper #Lian Harper #tw: mentions of sex trafficking #tw: mentions of past kidnapping and child abuse #my fic #fic commission

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

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Peer Pressure

Kix x Fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: Kix finds himself giving the princess medical assistance, and even though the two of them hit it off, no one else seems to like the two of them together

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of a bombing (happened prior to the story), people being a-holes towards the clones

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The first time Kix sa you he could have sworn time stopped for a moment. All his bleeding brothers, the destroyed droids and remains of the palace faded into the background the second he laid eyes on you. And when you ended up walking straight towards him his heart skipped a beat. Though he soon scolded himself for this when he saw that you weren’t exactly walking, but rather jumping on one leg, trying your best not to put any pressure on the other. Kix hurried over to you and without either of you having to say a single word he put his arm around your waist and guided you over to one of the makeshift beds along the tent walls. “Thank you”, you said. Those two words made Kix turn his attention away from your leg and to your eyes. Even though they haven’t been on this planet for very long, everyone in the 501st could tell that the inhabitants were not big fans of clones, most of them ignored them altogether while others were nothing but mean and cold. Your words might have been the first friendly ones he had heard since their arrival that didn’t come from one of his brothers. “You’re welcome”, he replied, trying his best to focus on your leg again and not your gorgeous eyes. “What seems to be the problem?” You shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. I was with my family, trying to escape the palace as soon as the alarms went off, but then there was this loud noise and next thing I knew I was all alone and the walls around me were nothing more than dust and pebbles. Kix nodded along while you talked. “Do you mind lifting your dress so I can have a closer look at your leg?” You did as you were told, lifting the hem of your dress inch by inch until Kix told you to stop. He could now see that your knee was at a weird angle and there was a long cut along your calf, which was still bleeding. He studied the dark fabric of your dress for a moment to see if there was any indication as to how much blood you’ve lost, but all he noticed that the dress, though now dirty and torn in some places, seemed incredibly expensive. You must be a very high up servant, or maybe even some kind of noble woman. “Your knee is dislocated and you have a cut on your calf. It’s bleeding a lot, but not deep, so you should be on your feet in no time”, he explained as he began to disinfect your wound before wrapping it up. “Try not to put too much weight on this leg the next couple of days, a day or two of bedrest would help as well, if that’s possible. And the bandages should be changed once a day until the wound is closed. As for your knee, this will hurt for just a second, you can squeeze my arm, it might help with the pain.” Once again you were a model patient and did as told while Kix tried not to let your warm hand on his arm affect him. He had put off parts of his armour a while earlier due to the hot climate and now there was only a thin layer of fabric between your skin and his. “What’s your name?”, you asked as Kix put his hands on your knee, whether because you were really interested or to distract you Kix didn’t know, but he found that it didn’t really matter to him. You had asked for his name, not his number as the few other people he had spoken to on this planet, one of whom had only asked so he could report him for daring to touch him while placing a bacta patch on him. “Kix. My name’s Kix”, he said and quickly followed up by asking for your name. “I’m (Y/N)”, you said, though you rather screamed the last syllable in the short moment it took Kix to relocate your knee. “It’s very nice to meet you, Kix. And thank you so much for your help. What can I do to repay you?” Kix, now finished with his work, looked at you in shock. Surely you had to be joking. “I... “, he began, not sure what to say. In all his time as a medic, this was a question he had never heard. “Maybe we could meet again for dinner and you could tell me what you’ve thought of”, you suggested with a bright smile on your lips that made Kix’s mouth dry. Did you just ask him on a date? Were you flirting with him? “I’d like that. Especially after the day I’ve had”, he finally admitted. Still smiling you leaned forward, placing your elbows on your legs and your head in your hands until your face was only inches way from Kix, who was still kneeling in front of you. “Go on, tell me about your day.” Kix scanned your face, looking for any trace of irony or cruelty, but when he didn’t find anything that might lead him to believe that you weren’t sincere he began. “Well, it was a long day and a short night. Jesse, that’s one of the brothers I’m closest with, woke me at the crack of dawn because Hardcase had dropped his caf and cut himself on the broken cup trying to pick up the pieces. Once his hand was bandaged Echo and Fives came running through the medbay, trying to hide from Dogma, who they had pulled some sort of prank on. And before that could be settled Rex commed us to get us over here because the palace was under attack.” Kix surprised himself with how much he had told you, how easy it was for him to talk to you and that you were smiling and laughing as he told his story. “That sounds like an eventful day, much better than mine. Maybe I’ll get to meet your brothers one day”, you said wistfully. Before Kix could reply to that he heard voices from the other side of the tent. As he looked over he saw you rolling your eyes out of the corner of his eyes. “Where is she? Where is our daughter? I demand you bring us to her?” He saw Rex trying to calm the screaming man down, but the woman next to him then began to yell at the Captain. Luckily just a moment later General Skywalker intervened and much to Kix’s dismay lead the couple over to him. “Kix, the King and Queen say that their daughter was admitted to the medical tent. Have you by any chance seen the princess?” Kix shook his head. He was pretty sure he would have noticed if anyone like the two monarchs in front of him would have been anywhere near the tent. “There you are! (Y/N), we were so worried. What are you doing here? You should be with our own doctors, not this... clone”, the Queen exclaimed while, to Kix’s surprise, put both her hands on your cheeks. Though he didn’t hear your reply, since his attention was now captured by the King who had picked up his wife’s yelling. “What do you think you were doing with my daughter? Were you trying to kidnap her? You better hope for your own good that you didn’t touch her, or else-”, he began before being interrupted by both you and Anakin. “Dad!”, you yelled while Anakin told him not to speak to his men like that. Though neither the King nor the Queen paid any attention to either of you. Instead they both took one of your arms and basically lifted you off the bed. All you could to before they all but carried out the tent was to turn around to look at Kix and mouth a single word. “Sorry.” All Kix could do was stare after you, standing completely still and not registering anything around him until he suddenly felt Jesse’s hand on his shoulder. “Well done, vod. That’s the princess you were just flirting with.”

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A short while later you were sitting in an armchair in the one part of the palace that, by some miracle, was still mostly intact. The room was smaller than what you were used to, and the clothes you were wearing were a lot less elaborate than your usual dresses, and yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead it felt rather like you weren’t yourself at all, like you could do things you usually couldn’t. The thought brought an idea to your mind. You looked very different in this simple black dress, with no makeup and unstyled hair, if you were to leave the palace no one would stop you, they wouldn’t even recognize you. Without thinking further about your idea you jerked into action, packing the small dinner on the table next to you in a basket you had found earlier and making your way out of the room and through the halls. No one stopped you, no one even bothered to look at you until you arrived at your destination. “Who are you? What do you want?”, a clone with the number five tattooed on his forehead asked. Though his voice was similar to Kix’s, he sounded a lot less friendly. “I’m looking for a medic. His name is Kix. We met earlier today and I-” “What? You’re gonna yell at him some more?”, another clone, this one without visible tattoos asked. You shook your head and lifted the basket in your hands. “I’m bringing him dinner as a thank you for helping me. And an apology for my parent’s behaviour.” It seemed to dawn on the clones who you were once you mentioned your parents. “You’re the princess!”, the tattooed clone exclaimed, though the other elbowed him in the side a moment later. “Kix should be in the mess. That’s the third door to the right”, the other clone said, his voice a lot friendlier now, before the two of them let you pass onto the ship. You soon found your way to the mess, though only once you stepped inside did it occur to you that finding Kix amongst all the other clones might be a bit more difficult than anticipated. As you began to look around the room you realized that one after the other all the clones had stopped eating and were now looking at you. You felt heat rising to your cheeks. Maybe you should have thought this through instead of assuming Kix would be around, waiting for you. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of you looking around the room and every single men inside staring at you, one of the clones walked up to you. He obviously wasn’t Kix, but introduced himself as Jesse, a name you were at least familiar with. “You must be the princess. If you’re looking for Kix, he just left for the barracks. Down the corridor, then left. If you might still catch him before he hits the ‘fresher.” Relief flooded through your body. “Thank you”, you called over your shoulder as you headed out the door to finally find Kix. You saw him just as he was rounding the corner and called his name. Though you hadn’t expected him to stop dead in his track because as soon as you ran around the corner you ran right into him. Luckily Kix had quick reflexes and caught you before you could fall down. “You weren’t just running, were you? What part of ‘don’t put weight on your leg’ didn’t you understand?”, he sighed, though there was a grin on his lips. You shook your head as you tried your best to catch your breath. How dare he talk about your leg now instead of appreciating your grand gesture? “I know, I’m sorry”, you said, even though you weren’t really, not if running was your way of catching Kix. “And I’m sorry for earlier. My parents... they’re... they can be... I’m sorry. I’m nothing like them, I promise. And look, I even brought the dinner I promised you as proof.” Without hesitation you thrust the basket in Kix’s hands. He looked inside before turning back to you. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to have dinner. Clearly there are a million reasons you should stay away from me.” You shook your head. How could he say that? Didn’t he notice how much you’ve grown to like him after spending just a few minutes with him and how that could easily turn into something more if he’d just agree to have dinner with you? Hadn’t he felt the sparks earlier? “Maybe I don’t want to stay away. Maybe I want to have dinner with you, no matter what anyone may say or think.” Kix simply handed you the basket, but before he could say anything else you tossed it to the side and stepped closer. “Tell me you don’t want to spend time with me and I’ll leave, but don’t blame it on other people. This isn’t about what my parents think, what your brothers may think, this is about you and me and the fact that I’ve never felt about anyone like I feel about you.” A loud sigh left Kix’s lips. He reached to take your hands in his and gently stroked along your knuckles. “You don’t even know me, mesh’la.” You spoke enough Mando’a for that little word to give you a bit of hope. “We can change that. We can take it slow, no pressure, no expectations. Just one question: Will you have dinner with me?” Kix looked deep into your eyes as his answer, one single word, left his lips.

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I might write two seperate part twos to this story, one in which Kix agrees to dinner and one in which he doesn’t, if that’s something you’d like to read.

As always, I’d love to hear some thoughts and feedback <3

#kix x reader #kix x you #kix x y/n #kix imagine

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icouldntfinditsoiwroteit · 3 years

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What if the clones changed places with diferent battalions because of The Force shenanigans for one week?

501:

Rex: He gets sent to the 187th battalion of Mace Windu, he proceeds to have almos two heart attacks per day with Hardcase causing his usual caos, when he is not trying to prevent Harcase from painting Mace Windu’s robes blue he is chating with Ponds and taking any moment to try a recover their lost time and of course bitch about their Generals (I headcanon that Mace is just as much of a disasters as other Jedis, the diference is that he can hide it.)

Dogma: He gets sent to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, Dogma is almost shocked to death by how Plo Koon treats him and the other clones that where sent to his battalion, Plo Koon helps him understand that following orders without thinking about them is not the best thing to do, he surprisingly gets along with Comet and alongside with the CG commanders is babied and almost adopted by Plo Koon, when he learned about what the CG go trough he finally learned that people need to earn your loyallty and has sworn to do anything to help his brothers, no matter where they are from.

Tup: He gets sent to the Coruscant Guard, Tup sticks t Fives even more than before since they are in a unkown place for him, he also tries to keep Fives from causing any more trouble and animosity between the CG and the 501th battalion than there already is, being court martialed because of painting Commander Cody’s armor pink, and of course half of the CG want to keep him when they see the cinamon roll that he is and how tired he ends because of Fives.

Fives: He gets sent to the Coruscant Guard, he is constantly stoped by Tup from doing almost anything fun, he gets along with Hound like there is no tomorrow, probably since Grizzer loves Fives and Fives isn’t scared of him, whne Fives is with Tup he has to basically prevent him form being kidnaped by half of the CG. “He Tup where are you going? Oh, I’m going to see what Spot wanted to show me earlier today.(Fives notices the badly hidden ropes of Spot) No your not(Fives picks Tup like a sack of potaoes) Fives what the kriff!, Tup is MY VOD and you can’t keep him!!!(Fives yells while being chased by Spot and other troopers)”

Echo: He gets sent to the 212th battalion of Obi Wan Kenobi, Echo isn’t that out of it in the 212th battalion since he and Fives where deployed with them a few times already, but he is going to lose it if he has to prevent someone being murdered by Sinker because they mocked his battallions name one more time or howled when he walked in. He has also learned that no matter where he goes a brother will take Five’s place and in this case Thorn is that brother.

Hardcase: He gets sent to the 187th battalion of Mace Windu, Hardcase decides to see how fast he can cause Rex to grow grey hairs and Ponds is a plus, especially since this is Mace Windu’s battalion, although poor Rex and Ponds have no idea that Mace is on it. “Hey Hardcase, whats that you’ve got?(Rex asks seing the suspicious bag Hardcase is carying) Coffe grains!!(Hardcase answeres befoere runnig of while munching some of them) Nooo!!!(Rex remembering what happened last time Hardcase had one caf runs after him, willing to stun him and ignoring the rest of the men in the room laughing.) (In the mean time Mace is hiding his amused laugh after he gave Harcase the coffe grains.)”

212:

Cody: He gets sent to the Coruscant Guard, Cody takes the time he has and sleeps like he has never slept before, at the start he helped Fives to keep the CG from stealing Tup, since he knows how it feels that the CG is trying to steal one of his shiny vod, after Fives tried to paint his armor pink, he stoped and decided to enjoy Five’s suffering.

Longshot: He gets sent to the 501th battalion of Anakin Skywalker, Longshot and Jesse are Kix’s new nightmare, since they also decided that making Wolfee’s comn to howl like a wolf.

Boil: He gets sen to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, Boil wonders if the universe entertaines itself with his suffering, because from all the vod he had to love it had to be Waxer and from all the existing battalions they could magically apear on it was Plo “I adopt any living creature that barely breathes in my direction” Koon, although he isn’t as against at the idea of finding Numa as he says he is, and Waxer knows it. He was one of the troopers that helpes Stone in making Fox rest, it’s the least he can do after he learned what they go trough.

Waxer: He gets sen to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, Waxer and Plo get along to a scary level, multiple troopers have to restrain him phisically and distracting Plo long enough that they can’t go in a journey across the galaxy in search for Numa. He also discovered what the CG go trough and felt ashamed of what he thought of hi brothers before, he alongside Boil have decided to spread this information, to at least make sure that their brothers have more support.

104 Wolfpack:

Wolfee: He gets sent to the 501th battalion of Anakin Skywalker, Wolfee thanks the universe for assigning him to General Plo “Coff Coff Buir”, instead of the walking disaster that Skywalker is and at the same time begs the universe for patience in order to prevent himself from murdering any other Vod that makes his comn howl or any joke about wolf in his presence, even if it’s Commander Ashoka or how General Buir calls her “Little Soka”.

Boost: He gets sent to the 187th battalion of Mace Windu, Boost is having the time of his life alongside Waxer and to his shock General Windu, by giving early grey hair to Captain Rex and Commander Ponds, this may seem cruel to some and even to him at the start, but when he learned that General Windu was doing this in order to boost the rest of his men morale after a really hard capaing he was sold, besides some humor never hurt anyone, right?

Sinker: He gets sent to the 212th battalion of Obi Wan Kenobi, General Kenobi is not a bad Jedi and by all means he thinks he enjoys the chats he has with the Jedi but may the universe have mercy on the next fool who makes a joke about his battalion’s name or howls while he enters the room, he doesn’t care about the consequences and fortunately Echo has prevented a lot of bloodshed caused by his hands, he hopes that when he’s back with the Wolfpack the ARC gets deployed with them more often, he likes him.

Coruscant Guard:

Fox: He gets sen to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, Fox apreciates the Jedi, since he ans his men don’t have on he had no idea what to expect and lets say that Skywalker didn’t give him high expectations and since he can’t do his paperwork he was cuddled to death by stone and by a few other brothers that learned of how they are treated in Coruscant. Plo has to be stoped by the Wolfpack who fake injuries in order to prevent the Jedi from storming the Senate, when he found out of how the CG are treated one didn’t need the force in order to feel the bloodlust in the man, and even if the Wolfpack shared this feeling they can’t let their Jedi be acused of treason..

Stone: He gets sen to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, he is thankfull to any force in the universe for giving him this time to finally force Fox to sleep, since Thorn isn’t here it’s his duty to care for the di’kut he calls a vod and commander. He didn’t cry when the Wolfpack as a whole decided that the CG needed help, he really didn’t, it was just a bit of dirt in his eyes, but having brothers outside of the CG watching his back is conforting, and Fox won’t admit it but they have a soft spot for Dogma.

Thorn: He gets sent to the 212th battalion of Obi Wan Kenobi, he want’s to help Sinker with a bunch of his plans to make the 212th suffer except for Wooley, Wooley is nice, fortunately for the 212th Echo stops Sinker most of the time and the poor ARC looks so tired of it, so Thorn has decided to help him around, he remember one time Fox talked about the time he worked with the ARC and another one named Fives, Fox saud that Thorn where painfully similar and may or may not have admited to have liked working with him, “but you didn’t hear that form him alright Echo? Echo? Wait you recorded it, no stop Fox will murder me!! (Proceeds to run after a cackling Echo)”.

Thire: He gets sent to the 501th battalion of Anakin Skywalker, he is not surprised at all when he see’s the daily disasters that happen on Torrent, and even if Commander Tano and General Skywalker are fun to be around, he can see where the battalion got the recklesnes from and he will feel no regret when Rex comes back and he is back on coruscant.

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osamiiya · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader (Slight Osamu x Reader)

Summary: Atsumu has a date with his longtime crush, only for him to get sick. Luckily, his twin brother has a can of semi permanent hair dye and an open schedule.

Warnings: Atsumu and Osamu having one brain cell

A/n: Alternative ending with Osamu ?

The first time was when Atsumu was too sick to make it to his 'no makeups' math test. Osamu ran to buy a can of spray-on hair dye and combed his hair the other way.

And it worked, Atsumu got the 100% and Osamu got his chores done for a month.

The second and third times were just for fun, a test to see how long they could go before someone noticed, and usually by practice someone did, but it was always doubted because; "Well, it looks like Atsumu."

The fourth time was when Atsumu scored a date with his longtime crush, a feat nobody saw coming.

Atsumu had built himself up to ask for your number and a date, striding across the classroom amidst the laughs and giggles of his classmates, confidence draining with each step as he neared your desk.

'Act cool, Act cool'

The mantra plays on repeat as he clears his throat.

"Are you free Saturday?" He holds out his phone in hopes you understand.

Nobody expected you to give him a smile and carefully take the phone out of his hand, putting your number in and texting it, waiting for your text alarm before adding his contact into your phone.

And in hindsight, Atsumu should've been careful the following week, not overworking himself and certainly not forgetting his umbrella in the morning.

He layed in bed Friday night, covers pulled up to his chin as Osamu laughed at his sniffling and raspy voice.

"You should just reschedule." Suna offers, watching Atsumu's pink face, from his fever, go even pinker with indignation.

"There's no way, I've been waiting for this for a year now." A cough punctuates his argument and Suna and Osamu cringe behind their facemasks.

"There's no way you'll be able to go when you're this sick." Osamu nods in agreement with Suna's words, feeling slightly sorry for his brother now.

Osamu is quick to jump in when Atsumu opens his mouth to argue.

"You won't be completely better by tomorrow night, that's just crazy."

Atsumu pouts, significantly more whiny now that he was sick.

The trio sit in silence for a moment before a lightbulb goes off in Atsumu's head.

"I don't have to go on the date-"

Suna groans and interjects with a "That's what we've been trying to tell you."

To which Atsumu rolls his eyes and continuous.

"-Osamu can go."

It's silent as the words process in the boy's minds.

"What?" Osamu let's out a shocked laugh.

"You don't have any plans other than gaming with Suna anyways, just go as me and if you score another date I'll go on it. They won't be able to tell."

Now it should be said that sometimes Atsumu has bad plans said with great enough execution where it makes a sliver of sense.

A few minutes of arguing later, Osamu agrees with a huff as Suna laughs.

The next morning Atsumu helps spray Osamu's hair with the semi-permanant hair dye, watching his hair go from gray to yellow before combing it to the other side.

"We still look nothing alike." Osamu's grumpy, and the blond is slightly off, the way they stand completely different.

"Nonsense, you finally look hot."

Osamu can't strangle a sick person, that would be cruel.

But he does anyways, finally letting go of his twins neck at the three frantic taps Atsumu smacks on his shoulder.

The clock strikes 6pm and Osamu finally heads out, his gait changing slightly to be more believable as Atsumu's phone weighs down his pocket.

And he waits for you at the restaurant, flicking through his brothers phone mindlessly, going through his social media feed and commenting on all of Osamu's posts.

And then you arrive.

"Hey." Osamu, no, Atsumu smiles, tucking his phone into his back pocket like he's seen his brother do before.

"Ready to go in?"

"You look nice Atsumu."

Osamu, now Atsumu, smiles cheekily before returning the compliment.

The two of you have dinner, laughing and talking about everything, even holding hands as you walk through the streets, pointing out things in shops and even stopping at an empty store for rent.

"My... brother wants to open a restaurant." The place is perfect, the size, the location, the price.

"Oh yeah, Osamu did want to open an onigiri restaurant, I kind of remember that."

Osamu takes a picture of the store and sends it to his phone, wanting to remember this location.

"Who knows if he can do it, I think he should just stay with volleyball." Osamu's words are an echo of Atsumu's, and a sad glint takes place in his eyes.

It's noticeable enough for you to catch, squeezing his hand slightly to catch his attention.

"I think he can do it."

It's silent for a beat, Osamu completely taken aback before realizing he wasn't supposed to be Osamu.

"We'll see if the idiot actually goes through with it."

You continue walking, swinging your hands slightly and Osamu gets why Atsumu is so infatuated with you, the way you look under the street lights, the sound of your laugh, and gosh, your smile.

He snaps out of it as he walks you home.

"Thanks for taking me out today Osamu." You smile and wave from the doorway, and Osamu waves back, not realizing at first.

And then his face flushes and he let's out a shocked sound of question as you lean against the doorway.

"You think I wouldn't be able to tell my crush apart from his brother? Besides, Atsumu was out sick yesterday too, there's no way he'd get better so quickly."

You think for a minute, studying his face, they really did look similar.

"Besides, your eyes are different."

Osamu's shocked enough where words don't form as you continue.

"Don't tell Atsumu I know, I want to see what happens." You laugh slightly as you wave goodnight and close the door, Osamu standing in shock for a moment before walking home.

The moment Osamu steps into the house, Atsumu's on him like a beast, a flurry of questions sometimes interrupted with a coughing fit as Osamu trys to lean away.

"It went fine, they really like you." The jealousy is well hidden, and if Atsumu wasn't sick and head already feeling muddled, he would've picked up on it.

"Dude, I need to wash this out of my hair." Osamu groans as Atsumu asks more questions, what were you wearing? What did you order for dinner? Osamu payed right?

Atsumu doesn't get a text all weekend from you, leading to an argument between the brothers, Atsumu thinking Osamu had messed everything up, to which Osamu argued that it was Atsumu's idea in the first place.

Until Monday, Atsumu all recovered and sitting anxiously at his desk waiting for you to walk throught he door.

"Y/n!" He's out of his desk in a flash, smiling nervously as he approaches you.

"You, uh, never texted." He prepares to be rejected, and prepares to finally murder his twin.

"You never showed up Atsumu." There's a teasing smile on your face as murderous rage fills Atsumu's eyes, Osamu stood you up?

"I was pretty bummed when Osamu showed up instead."

The lump in his throat goes away as he realizes.

"How did you know?"

You smile playfully, catching eyes with Osamu across the room.

"You have different eyes."

"Oh."

"How does this upcoming Saturday sound?"

Atsumu's confused for a second before he realizes.

"Like a date?"

At your nod he smiles.

"Then it's a date. And with me, not Osamu."

---

Taglist:

@sachirou-senpai @kenmas-bitxh @tetsurolls @elianetsantana @peteunderoos @jovialnoise @ryusex-wife @dai-tsukki-desu @aruhappy @indecisivehusky @curiouslilbeast @alphabetsoupyum @dumbiebambi @dejvns @x-ia-n @itsmeaudrieee @llamakenma @hawksnumberoneuwu @prayerofthehaim @morpheus-rex @kac-chowsballs @sushii10 @chiiasa @kageyamasgirl @toworuu @yuujiya @realityisabitch-blr

*Taglist form in navigation

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #atsumu fluff #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x you

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alrighty-anubis · 3 years

Text

I miss him (tech&hunter&crosshair)

No warnings apply

Tech's emotions over flow after going unsaid for too long. Hunter realises his brother needs some support and that forgetting about Crosshair isn't good for any of them. Omega is the perfect younger sister.

Find it on my AO3

As the Havoc-Marauder settled into hyperspace, the tension in the ship dispersed and was replaced by the friendly familiarity between the members. Hunter had a hand on Omega’s shoulder as she excitedly rattled off her and Wrecker’s accomplishments on their side, Wrecker interrupting with his own equally excited comments whilst echo (who had spun round in the co-pilot’s seat) nodded along trying and failing to cover up the fact he was scanning them all for injuries. Tech didn’t face them, eyes set on the blur of stars before them, fiddling absentmindedly with a clump of wires he had picked up and had no plan for.

“And then I shot the droid with my bow” “Right in the head, kid’s got perfect aim” “And that’s when Crosshair arri-”

Omega was interrupted by a sharp clang from the pilot’ seat. They all turned to face Tech whose cheeks flushed as he picked up the wires before turning away from them without so much as a glance in their direction.

“Hey, Tech, you alright?” Hunter’s concerned voice broke the silence.

“Affirmative, I have sustained no injuries. Neither has the ship. I apologize for the interruption”

Hunter kept his eyes trained on Tech’s back but didn’t probe him any further, a squeeze to Omega’s shoulder signalling her to carry on.

“Crosshair arrived and started shooting at us and his aim was so good but luckily Wrecker threw a crate at him so we had time to run around the corner.” “You know how delicate Cross can be - took him minutes to get up again” “And then we made it to you and had that whole stand off”

That’s when Echo interrupted, providing his ARC interpretation and analysis on their efforts. Hunter tended to forget how much experience the man had, working so closely with Rex and found himself nodding along with him. The conversation soon got thrown off into a tangent about the new TK soldiers and other developments the Empire were making from the GAR.

Hunter found himself pausing and waiting for Tech’s interjections; he was so animated when they first discovered the changes with the Commandos. But Tech sat silently at the Cockpit’s control desk. As he drowned out the surrounding conversation to take note of the Pilot’s tense shoulders and un-Tech-like lack of precision while handling the wires he felt his concern grow.

He pulled himself back to Echo and Wrecker’s conversation, intending to send them away so he could talk with Tech and figure out what was wrong.

“Yeah, we could’a used a sniper,” Wrecker vigorously announced. “I will admit, Crosshair being a traitor’s kind'a inconvenient. Don’t see him coming and suddenly you're being shot at.” “What’s not inconvenient is not having an attitude!” Wrecker laughed.

“Shut up!” Tech suddenly stood up, his wires thrown to the ground and the chair spinning from the force he left it with. “Shut up shut up!”

He flung his helmet across the cockpit and smashed into the wall with a loud crash. Omega startled and hurried out of the room.

Hunter took a step back and resisted the urge to cover his ears. He felt his stomach lurch at the sight of tears streaking from behind Tech’s goggles. Wrecker and Echo were frozen, mouths still open.

“He’s not a traitor!

“Tech, he’s literally hunting us down for the Empire,” Echo stated whilst Wrecker shouted: “If he wasn’t a traitor he would be with us now.”

“Hunting us down? What like you did to Omega, Wrecker?”

Wrecker physically flinched back, tears welling in his eyes whilst they started to freely stream down Tech’s face.

“It’s not him. It’s not. It wasn’t you trying to shoot Omega in the face. Cross wouldn’t betray us. And you’ve abandoned him. None of you care - none of you did. He got left behind. We left him behind and none of you care or feel bad,” tremors began to wrack through his body violently, “We left him behind. We are the traitors. He’s all alone - the Empire doing maker knows what to him - and we aren’t saving him because none of you care!”

“Tech-” Hunter slowly stepped forward, hands raised in a placating manner.

“What? You're the one who made us leave him. You’re our sergeant, you’re meant to keep us together and you didn’t”.

“Tech-” He signalled for the others to leave, “We did what we could, but we couldn’t get out of their alive and save him.”

“Bullshit - that’s just what you tell yourself.”

“Maybe you’re right-” Hunter considered his options.

It was rare for Tech to feel emotions strongly, let alone let them out. When Tech had breakdowns like this it would be after something had been building for weeks. Hunter cursed himself for not having noticed the signs: taking the night shift so he didn't have to sleep in front of them because of nightmares; not eating’ overworking so he didn't have to think about it. Crosshair was usually the one who helped Tech in these situations, he was the only one Tech felt comfortable speaking to about these matters actually, the both of them not feeling as strongly as Hunter, Wrecker or Echo. He should have seen this coming with Tech’s closest brother being unavailable.

“Tech, tell me, was there a way for us to get out alive with Crosshair? Think.” He commanded, hoping that giving Tech the puzzle would help his analytical mind ease the onslaught of emotions so Hunter could begin to help him with them.

“No.” Tech's voice was strained and croaky from shouting. He slumped forward with resignation at the admission.

Hunter stepped forward and laid a hand on his back. Tech flinched away for a second before falling into his brother’s chest. Hunter wrapped his arms around the slender man and realised this was the first time he had hugged Tech. A pang of guilt made its way through his body as he wondered whether it was more than their similarity that had Tech heading to Crosshair for comfort. Hunter found Tech’s constant babble exhausting and incomprehensible, sometimes leading him to be a bit short with the others.

“What brought this on?” He asked.

“They talk about him as if he’s no different than Rampart or Bane or Tarkin. But he is. He’s our brother. And then they don’t talk about him at all. No one’s mentioned that he’s gone.”

They had all been so concerned with Omega’s safety they hadn’t had time to mourn Crosshair’s separation and Tech, finding emotions as confusing and illogical as he does, had never felt confident to bring him up - not with Wrecker often ignoring what he said assuming he won't understand and other more urgent situations ongoing.

“Do you want to talk about it - him now?”

“I miss him.”

“So do we.”

“Really.” Tech deadpanned, “”It surely gives that impression when you all spend hours insulting him”.

“Perhaps convincing ourselves we weren't as close to him saves us the pain from his absence.”

Tech stayed silent.

“I will talk to the others. And Tech,” he waited until his eyes met his younger brother’s. “We will get him back. I promise.”

Tech sobbed into Hunter’s chest in response. They stood like that for a while, until they heard the door open behind them. Omega poked her head in the cockpit, concern worrying about her face.

“Tech, are you okay?”

“I will be.” He pulled away from Hunter, his cold exterior returning quicker than Hunter would have liked, “I apologise for scarring you.”

Omega reached down and picked up his wires, handing them back to him, “It’s okay,” she smiled, “We’ll get him back.”

The rest of the group filtered back in, they cast Tech concerned glances which he pretended to not notice. The atmosphere was awkward, the conversation choppy as they tried to stick to light subjects. But Omega’s game with her Bad Batcher doll drew them all in.

Tech tapped Omega on the shoulder and passed her a small toy bow he had made with the wires.

“This is so cool, she matches me now!” Omega lurched forward and hugged her older brother.

_____

1351 words

Also I’d love to be sent some requests :)

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

Note

I might spam your box with ideas haha. S U F F E R. I’ve never liked the idea that after the Hardeen mission even Cody and Obi-wans men were all mad at him. There’s no one that would understand more than the troopers and Cody in my opinion. They understand having a duty and Following orders, even if you don’t agree with them. So I need me some Codywan + Obi getting so much more closer with his men and them being his support system now + ahsoka not being mad at her grandmaster. Please & thanks

(i have that one fill about the space fam™ figuring out obi-wan isn’t doing too hot after the deception arc, which is all well and good, but yeah the clones would absolutely understand and support obi faking his death for a mission and the fandom needs more of that. so here is fiori enabling me. and rex loving and supporting his general but also being super unimpressed with his tantrum

thank you for all the prompts, ad'ika ( ˘ ³˘) altho now I've had to shuffle my entire prompt list so that it's not you every other fill for the next month lmao)

“And he just goes right back to work?” Anakin snarls with a vague gesture across the bridge, to where General Kenobi is speaking with Cody and Wooley, and Maker, does the General look young. He had been reluctant to waste time on cosmetic corrections, and had only allowed the Jedi healers to give him some of his hair back; for better or for worse, he's letting the beard grow back naturally.

If the absurd amount of cooing that had happened at the Temple is anything to go by, many of the Jedi miss Kenobi’s baby-face, that he had supposedly covered with a beard as soon as he'd taken Anakin on as his apprentice. When Kenobi had given his first debrief after the Jedi had fixed his features back into his own, Echo had panicked and called him “cadet” in front of three different battalions, and the 501st is never going to let him forget it.

Anakin had not laughed.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” Rex says carefully, turning back to the datapad in his hand to look over the command roster for their coming deployment. “General Kenobi’s injuries from the mission were superficial, he’ll be fully healed before we even make it to the Mid-Rim.”

Scoffing, Anakin continues to glare at his former master. “You can’t tell me you’re not angry, Rex,” he says, and leans against the console behind him.

Ahsoka had warned him that his general clearly wasn't over Kenobi’s supposed betrayal, and Rex is Mando enough to admit he’s been avoiding this conversation; he won’t lie to Anakin, no, they’ve been through far too much together for that, but no matter how close they are, their friendship would not save him from Anakin’s wrath.

So he pretends to be reading the roster for another long moment, wishing he had Kote’s diplomacy. “I am not, sir, just as I was not angry when Kix feigned desertion for the mission on Odos II.” Glancing up, he’s relieved to see Anakin isn’t glaring at him yet, but if Ahsoka hadn’t been able to talk him down, Rex doesn’t stand a chance. “The Supreme Chancellor's life being at stake is no small matter, the High Generals had many factors to consider, including that Count Dooku would be watching you closely in the wake of General Kenobi’s death.”

“Are you saying I can’t act?”

“I’m saying that if Count Dooku thought for even a moment you were faking it, the whole mission would have been in jeopardy. Sir.”

He doesn’t need to know banthashit about the Force to feel it when Anakin goes from simmering to incensed, not with the way Anakin warps the air between them, saturating it with his rage until General Kenobi sends them a concerned frown across the bridge. Anakin doesn’t seem to notice, glare fixed on Rex, and this really isn’t how he would have expected them to fall out.

Or that they'd have to fall out at all.

The tragedy of the thought makes Rex bold, meeting Anakin’s rage with a calm and confidence stolen from far stronger men. “You were not the only one made to believe in the General’s death, you forget there are others who care for him as deeply as you do.” Kote, he doesn’t say, Vos and Ahsoka and the Duchess, Wupi and Choke and Boil. “I perhaps would not include myself in that count, but should you not put aside your anger and be relieved that the General was not actually murdered?” Kote catches his eye and taps at his wrist guard, his concern obvious as he asks Rex in didi if he’s alright, and Rex will gladly take the unintentional out his brother has given him. “Just something to think about, sir. Here is the adjusted command roster, Captain Sage was transferred to the Coruscant Guard following his injury during the campaign on Aslo. Excuse me, sir, Commander Cody seems to have a question for me.” He hands the datapad to Anakin, who is miraculously too stunned not to take it, before Rex moves quickly across the bridge.

Ahsoka sits gingerly across from Rex in the almost-empty mess, murmuring, “I take it the talk didn’t go well.”

He snorts into his cup of caf. “From a certain point of view, it went better than expected.”

Wincing, Ahsoka rubs her own arms and casts her eyes down to the table. “I tried asking him about it before we left Coruscant, I’ve never seen him so angry, not even at the funeral.”

Rex is used to being the little brother, of both his batchmates and the CC track, and this is one of the times where he laments that: when he doesn’t quite know how to comfort the way his brothers comforted him. “If I may, sir,” he says, quiet enough that the few vode at the table across the room won’t hear, “are you not angry with General Kenobi?”

“No?” She chews her bottom lip. “I mean, yes, I mean– I’m happy he’s alive. It hurt, being kept out of the loop, but it’s not as if I was singled out for that, right? And I... I understand why he did it, why it had to be done and why it played out like it did, but it still hurt. But I’m also so relieved that Master Obi-Wan is alive, that I don’t think my hurt matters.”

“And General Skywalker hasn’t come to that conclusion yet.”

She shakes her head. “How... How has Cody taken it?”

“I think he’s more angry that he was forced to miss the funeral than Kenobi faking his death." Rex isn't sure where Kote and Kenobi stand now, they had been heading towards a collision before this Hardeen fiasco, and he doesn't know where they've landed. Brothers? Lovers? Whatever the hell Echo and Fives are? He hadn't been able to ask before the 212th and the 501st split ways. "It was for a mission, wasn't it? We're soldiers, Commander Tano, we're born with 'Mission First' imprinted on our brains."

Ahsoka giggles at the mental image, and Rex is relieved to see her shoulders relax. "All the padawans expected Knight Vos to react the worst," she says, crossing her arms on the table. "He grew up with Master Obi-Wan, you know? But he just... accepted it, he simply understood and... Letting go is part of being a Jedi. Knowing when you can't change things, and accepting failures, and understanding no matter the circumstances."

It would certainly not be the first time Anakin has stumbled on the Jedi path.

"General Vos was a Shadow, no?" Rex asks, considering his watery caf and wishing he knew how to approach his general about any of this. "He would empathise most, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose you're right," she says, bouncing her legs. "How have the others been? Echo and Jesse and them?"

"They're most disturbed by Kenobi’s face, to be honest."

Choking on a laugh, Ahsoka reaches across the table to steal an unused sucrose packet from Rex's tray. "I did hear something about Echo and cadets," she admits. "Oh no, how did Kix react?"

Rex smirks at the memory. "He really does like Kenobi’s hair, doesn't he?"

"He must have been devastated!"

"I think he tried to get the General to let him shave designs in the undercut."

"I suddenly know what I'm doing for the next Disaster Lineage prank war."

Rex winces, remembering the last prank war and how long it had taken Anakin to stop smelling like hot sauce. "Jesse's the best with the razors," he says blandly, mourning his now-empty cup and the broken caf machine in the kitchen, "and will work for extra shower tokens."

is this what you wanted, fiori?? 1,400 words about obi-wan without obi-wan in it for more than two seconds???

Mando’a: didi — a Clone-dialect specific form of dadita, a Mandalorian nonverbal communication similar to morse code. i think the clones would have a modified version of dadita that utilised placement of fingers on their arm as well as the actual taps, for quicker communication in close quarters, so in this case, didi is short for gadi dadita, “wrist dadita”. They would use this alongside standard military hand signals!

vode — “brothers, comrades, siblings”, sing. vod, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brothers”

#prompt fill #crispy writes #theclonewarsbrokeme #codywan #implied anyways #post-deception arc #captain rex #i think this is my first time doing rex pov?#prequel trilogy #clone wars #ask #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #actually forgot you'd asked for codywan and slipped that one line in because i'm a predictable bih

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powered-by-paranoia · 3 years

Text

one more time | Rex

pairing: captain Rex x admiral!reader

summary: you give Rex a wrist-chrono. in reaction, although he seems fine at first, he now constantly avoids you. this somehow leads to the two of you kissing. find out how!

word count: 6241

warnings: none

a/n: I’ve been sitting on this story since December (you can see I had two special occasion attempts to post it), but here it is. finally. again, I tried to keep it gender-neutral, but let me know if I slipped up. Winter Fete is supposed to be something Christmassy or whatever, and Affection Day is... me being shit at coming up with holiday names.

this is kind of a series now I guess, but each fic can be read as a standalone fic (there’s also our fallen heroes and jaig eyes, if you’re thirsty for more. but there’s no smut. not yet. not yet.)

"He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise."

Isabel Allende

An icy shiver ran up your spine as you glanced out the viewport. You were sitting in your office aboard your ship, having just turned around to take your mind off your responsibilities for a few minutes and sip your caf in peace. But the image — that of the lush planet you were stationed above — triggered a flashback you had been trying to fend off these past days. Only it wasn’t a visual flashback, you realized. It was a sentiment that you remembered vividly from when you were a child and your parents had gifted you a trip to Coruscant for Winter Fete.

You remembered the excitement of seeing your home planet from outer space. Your first ever interstellar trip — and to Coruscant, of all places. The festivities, the Winter Fete spirit, they were perhaps still present on Coruscant and on your home planet, but not there. Not in the coolness of space and the warship you commanded. Not among the lifeless bodies you had to wander through only a few days earlier — the bodies recovered from the battle. The bodies someone would have to deliver to worried families.

That cheerfulness now only lived in your memory. You could hardly remember the last Winter Fete you had spent with your family. Or any such holiday, for that matter. But what was easy to recall was the warm feeling you experienced every time you gifted things. The search for the perfect match, the smile on people’s faces as they realize you know them better than they expected. It had always brought you joy to make presents.

But this chain of thoughts now brought back another memory, albeit an awkward one that you wouldn’t admit was slightly painful as well. A recent one. At the start of this campaign, you had gifted Rex a military-style, top-of-the-line wrist chrono, which he had been reluctant to accept at first. After a few jokes on how this could be considered a military offense, and quite some heavy amount of polite convincing, he had eventually taken it and you had even noticed him wearing it later. It warmed your heart. And for a short period of time, you had gotten the chance to relish in the sensation once again. But only for a short period of time.

Because half a day later he had started to avoid you like you’d just been exposed to the Brainworm Rot.

It wasn’t as obvious at first — turning corners the moment you sighted him, pretending to look the other way when you passed by — but soon you just had to admit it to yourself when you spotted him turning one-eighty degrees only to disappear when he must have realized he was walking towards you.

You stared at the darkness of space, lost in thought and bordering on the line of anxiety. There were no answers coming from the darkness, only questions. Had he found out you had re-gifted it? Your mother had originally bought it for you as a Winter Fete present, but you liked your older one better and considered motivation before a battle was a decent enough excuse to offer a present to your favorite Captain. He surely couldn’t blame you for it though, could he? You barely had time to finish your cups of caf most days; how could you possibly find the time to go gift-shopping?

Then again, perhaps he concluded by himself that the gesture was offensive. But back when you gave it to him, he hadn’t seemed the least upset about it. He had even smiled and blushed a little. And if someone had the guts to call you out on your bantha-shit, it was Rex. It was one of the things you valued most about your friendship. You always talked freely, and he would never beat around the bush or keep his opinions for himself, even if they went against yours. Besides that, he always delivered contradictions in such a polite manner that you recognized he had your best interest at heart.

Your thoughts spiraled, and you bore a heavy heart with guilt for putting him in such a delicate position. You had to apologize. But in order to do that, you needed to find him and… not let him escape this time.

***

On their way to the mess hall, Rex had been called out at least three times by Fives and Echo for constantly scanning his surroundings. He had brushed it off by telling them he was preoccupied looking for General Skywalker in case he passed by, so they could have a talk about some mission he wouldn’t elaborate on.

Fives decided to push on and jokingly asked, “You mean the mission in which you got that chrono?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Captain. That’s quite a fancy one. I didn’t know you had your eye on the latest tech,” Echo chimed in before he could react.

Rex was now even tenser than before, but he played stupid. “Latest tech? This?” He brought it to his face to pretend to examine it better. “I had no idea.”

“So where did you get it from?” Fives insisted.

Million excuses ran through his mind, and he pretended to study the chrono for a few seconds more to get his thoughts in order. But he settled on the lamest one. “One of the locals gave it to me before the battle. As thanks for showing up, I suppose. I couldn’t really understand the language.”

“Just in time for Affection Day,” Echo teased, and it appeared as if he was twisting the knife. As if he knew.

The idea that you had offered him a gift had been enough to make Rex’s knees weak that day. But after you had left, and he could freely relish in the feeling, a troubling notion had snuck into his mind. He had nothing to give you back. And worse, after realizing that it had been an Affection Day gift, he had done some research to find out what the holiday really meant. That way, he found out it was similar to the Winter Fete season, but mainly practiced between lovers, sometimes really close friends — people exchanged gifts.

Exchanged.

At first, he had thought he would be able to come up with something. At least something symbolic. But he ended up dismissing every idea that popped up, only to end up now, in the last few days before returning to Coruscant, with nothing. He wouldn’t have let that affect him as much if it didn’t draw other, more depressing conclusions he didn’t want to think of at that moment.

Shortly after the three of them found a place to sit and eat in the mess hall, he inwardly cursed.

“I was planning to show you the new weapon upgrades we’re getting, boys. But I forgot my datapad in the room,” he muttered. “I’ll go get it. Hold on.”

***

Rex wouldn’t have the time to register what was happening. As the lights turned on in the barrack, the door shut behind him and there you were — standing next to his bed with his datapad in hand. He looked around. But you were alone.

“I suppose this is what you’re looking for, hm?” you asked, handing him the datapad. He stared at it as if not fully believing it was his. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I only want to talk.”

You did nothing to hide hurt in your voice. He took the datapad from your hand and placed it on the side table next to his bunk bed. “You can tell me anything,” he tried to say in a comforting voice, but the guilt slit through.

“Well, to be fair, I am here to listen. I want you to do the talking.”

He paused, but you had the feeling he knew exactly why you were there, and he was trying to waste time. “What about?”

“You’ve been avoiding me. Tell me it’s not just my imagination.”

He feigned confusion. “It is. I guess… we’ve both been quite busy, haven’t we?”

“Captain.” You held your gaze, although he looked away for a second. “You know you can speak freely with me. It’s about the gift, isn’t it? I’m sorry if it offended you or made you uncomfortable, I was only—”

“You didn’t,” he interrupted you, eager to deny it. You could see on his face that he had lowered his defenses. But he wouldn’t crack just yet.

“Then what is it about?”

He shrugged. “I told you. We’ve just been off-sync, I suppose.”

“Yesterday you started walking in the opposite direction as soon as you noticed me.”

“I’d forgotten something in the briefing room. I don’t even recall seeing you yesterday.”

“Like you forgot your datapad in one of the training rooms? You’re distracted. What’s it about then, if it’s not about the gift?”

“I appreciated your gift, Admiral. It’s just that…” he trailed off, but you decided to give him time to find his words. You’d sit there in awkward silence for an entire hour if you had to. “I have nothing to give back.”

You frowned and tilted your head. “Give back? What for?”

Rex brought his hands together, struggling to make the words leave his mouth. “For… Affection Day. Isn’t that the custom? Exchanging gifts?”

You froze, your mouth hanging as you rewinded the past couple of dates. You hadn’t thought of that holiday since you were in middle school and forced to exchange gifts with a random classmate. The timing of your gift had been so poor — no wonder he was avoiding you all through the ship. You panicked.

“What day?” you said, your voice in a higher pitch than usual, then laughed nervously. “I gave it to you as a simple gift from one friend to another. I didn’t take you for someone to care when such a holiday was around.”

He shrugged. “Someone mentioned it a few days before, and I suppose it stuck with me. Still, you made time to get me a gift, while I can’t even think of something you could possibly want of what I can offer.”

You knew exactly what it was, but you also knew better than to throw it in the conversation like that. Instead, you threw in a little sincerity. “I re-gifted it.” His head perked up. “My mother gave it to me a few months ago during Winter Fete. I liked my old one better. I thought you would enjoy this one.”

“I did— I am! But…”

You went on, seeing he didn’t look so relaxed or even convinced, “I did not give it to you expecting something in return, or because of some special occasion. It was just a sympathetic gesture I thought I might as well do for a friend. I’m sorry for the confusion — I shouldn’t have put you into this situation.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Admiral,” he said, but his voice sounded a little more formal than before. As if he had switched back to his default military tone. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have handled it this way.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine,” you teased.

He smiled.

***

One day after the gift fiasco, you finally reached Coruscant, and it had been the last time you had seen each other. You both had a week of leave to look forward to, but as you bid your farewells prior to landing, neither mentioned it.

Your last day on Coruscant found you cooking yourself dinner. All alone — you watched as the water for the pasta started boiling and tried to remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal. You smiled to yourself as you poured too much pasta into the pot. You could never get it right.

It was a pity you had no one to share it with. Your mind automatically drifted to Rex, as you knew he was probably out with his brothers at 79’s. It was their custom to spend as much time there as possible whenever they were allowed free time. But your smile faltered as you realized — of course they spent their time there. Where else?

***

Back at 79’s, Rex was wondering whether Fives had always been this annoying, or if it was just a result of drinking too much. Didn’t he use to enjoy spending time with them, there? Why was he suddenly the subject of so many mean comments about ruining the mood for everyone? Why couldn’t he just get up from the barstool and have a good time? It was their last evening on Coruscant, and Force knew when they would return. If they would return.

Instead of talking, joking around, or dancing, Rex barely even sipped his drink. He stirred the liquid inside its glass — a half-empty glass of Corellian whiskey.

“Alright Rex, there’s obviously something on your mind,” Fives interrupted his momentum of self-pity for the fifth time that evening. Rex didn’t even bother to roll his eyes or deny it at this point. Echo took a seat next to him on the other side, while Kix stood right behind him, encircling him. The only way he could escape them was by jumping over the bar. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“You’ve barely even touched your drink,” Echo chimed in.

Kix reached further, drawing a conclusion. “Which means it’s not something depressing since you would drown yourself in alcohol, but it’s not something exciting either because… you’d celebrate. You’re not angry either, because you wouldn’t have come with us here if you were. You’re confused.”

Rex grunted. “Actually, I might start leaning towards angry soon enough.”

“Come on,” Fives said. “You either join the party or spill it out. And we’ll be able to tell if you’re faking it.”

Kix attempted a less aggressive approach. “We’re all brothers, Rex. We can tell each other anything. Good or bad, we’ll always have your back.”

Rex looked between all three of them, and then at his drink. He downed it before they could say anything more and then sighed loudly. They were right. There was no point in hiding it. Though it was a stupid thing to stress on, perhaps they’d be able to provide a fresh perspective.

“Remember that chrono? The one I told you the locals of that planet gifted me?”

They nodded in unison.

“Well, it wasn’t a gift from the locals. It was from…” he trailed off. Your name got caught in his throat. He felt as if he was about to expose you for acting inappropriately.

“The Admiral!” Fives exclaimed, punching the bar top. “I knew it!”

Rex shushed him, while Echo rolled his eyes.

“So why are you so stressed about it? I’d be honoured!” he continued, now in a lower voice.

“I… I thought it was an Affection Day gift. She made it clear it wasn’t. To cite, she said it ‘was just a sympathetic gesture for a friend’. And that she hadn’t even realized the date matched.”

Fives’ face contorted into a grimace which only served to embarrass him further. “Ouch. Well, at least you made a friend.”

Rex shot him a glare, to which Fives responded by suddenly becoming fascinated with his glass.

“I mean, he’s right. In a way,” Echo said. “But I reckon it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“What is?” Rex asked.

Echo cleared his throat. “The date. I personally don’t believe the Admiral wasn’t aware of the date. And knowing that, why not choose another day for gifting it to avoid confusion? I guess it was on purpose, but since — you know — court-martials exist, the only solution was to brush it off as a friendly gesture.”

Rex wasn’t buying any of it; he had seen the surprise on your face when he had mentioned the date. Kix and Fives, however, were suddenly very intrigued by it.

“He’s right,” Fives said. “I mean, I’ve never seen a higher-up’s face light up that much when talking to some subordinate. Unless they’re delivering some fantastic news,” he added. Rex couldn’t believe they had all simply jumped to that conclusion in such a hurry.

“It’s called being nice. And very… expressive,” he said, dismissing the notion. “I think.”

“Well,” Kix concluded, after exchanging a malicious glance with Fives and Echo. “There’s only one way to find out, right?”

***

You flinched when you first heard the notification that someone was at your door. Not that you were particularly flimsy about visitors, but you were about to sit down and enjoy your own pasta by yourself, and it was rather late. It could mean there was an emergency. You were used to people announcing their visits.

So you brushed off your clothes and rushed to the door, only stopping once in front of the mirror for less than two seconds to make sure your hair looked decent and that you didn’t have any food on your face.

When the door slid to the side, you gaped at what you instantly recognized as Rex’s back. He was already turning to leave, but he heard the door and turned to face you. Flustered, he offered you a weak smile.

You frowned, tilted your head a little and asked, “Did something happen?”

You could see the vigor leaving his body for a second, but he then proceeded to shake his head. “No, Admiral. Not really. I just…”

Eyebrows raised, you wordlessly prompted him to go on. He shook his head again, this time with more vivaciousness.

“Nevermind. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you at this hour. I don’t know why I got the idea that—”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” you blurted out, interrupting him. His features relaxed, but yours tensed up. What were you thinking? He was obviously there because something had happened that he believed you should know about. Perhaps he had heard unpleasant rumours at 79’s.

He hesitated, but you couldn’t even process an excuse to take back your words or undo the awkwardness. But then, he straightened himself and finally answered, “I’d be honored. Do you have any place in mind?”

You smiled faintly. “I meant here, now. I made some pasta.”

***

Rex blinked a few times, dumbfounded by the invitation. It had taken his brothers nearly one hour of convincing to get him to visit you. And he had given in — even with nothing to bring you but his words. Words that he had lost the moment he rung your doorbell, which was the reason he had swiftly decided it was time to leave before you opened the door.

Now, he stood there in full armour, while you were without your uniform — dressed instead in a long, dark, silk robe to contrast with his white duraplast, your hair a wild mess compared to when you were on duty, and your face all natural. And in his eyes, you had never looked more beautiful. Or terrifying.

And you had just invited him in for some homemade pasta.

***

Once inside, you had insisted on him taking off his armour, and he had happily obliged. You figured he would not be comfortable around you in just his blacks, so you offered him a pair of pants he could change in to be more at ease. He walked in while you were arranging the table for two (which hadn’t even been arranged for one — you had been planning to eat while indulging in some holodrama on the sofa).

You moved slowly, but your heart rate could have betrayed you at any moment. Even though he stood still by the doorway, you knew he was looking at you. You felt his eyes follow your movements, yet you were aware that he was most likely just waiting for you to invite him to take a seat. However, you couldn’t focus on anything else but making sure everything was perfect. That you grabbed everything with precision and just the right amount of force. You didn’t want to look clumsy.

Why did you care so much how you looked setting the damn table?

Eventually, you took a step back from the table and gestured towards a seat.

“Are you sure I can’t help with something first?” he asked.

You smiled. “You’re my guest. Make yourself comfortable.”

He hesitatingly drew a chair and sat down, and as you turned around to get the food, you felt his eyes on you again. You feared you would suddenly need a crash course on how to walk. Before sitting down to eat, you pulled out the finest red wine you could find in your cabinet and poured two glasses of it.

The awkwardness lingered on through the first couple of bites. While part of you felt sad that this must have been the first time someone invited him in for a home-cooked meal, there was also nervousness in the air. It was the first time — so it had to be perfect. You had to make it memorable. And you hadn’t exactly prepared the food with guests in mind.

“If you’d like more salt or anything…” you began, gesturing with your fork towards his plate.

He looked up at you, wide-eyed, and then returned to reality. “Oh, no. It’s fine. It’s delicious, actually,” he added the last part as an after-thought, glancing away from you and back into his plate. You realised then that the silence wasn’t caused by him feeling any certain way. He was just too distracted enjoying the food.

You took another bite and decided to pull the band-aid. “So why did you come all this way?” You noticed him pause for a moment. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

He took a bite to avoid answering too early. He then took his sweet time chewing it. “It was stupid. I wanted to clarify something, but it was already clearing up as I got here. I had some drinks at 79’s and…”

“And…?”

“What you said about the gift. I kept turning it over in my head.”

Your appetite faltered — not that it managed to grow too much since he had gotten there. Not for the food, at least. But you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head. “What about it?”

“About it being a nice gesture… from a friend to another friend.”

“Well, I assumed it would be a nice gesture,” you explained, playing stupid and purposefully ignoring the last part.

He sighed. “It was, that’s not what I wanted to clarify. It’s…”

You watched him draw in a deep breath, and you realized he wouldn’t continue the explanation. Your shoulders dropping, you let go of the fork and placed both your elbows on the table. “It’s about us being friends. I know.”

Another long moment of silence, where your eyes only met for a split second before you looked away.

“I know it’s not professional. I know I shouldn’t be giving you gifts or inviting you into my apartment to have dinner. If you feel uncomfortable, you can tell me. And I will stop. No hard feelings.”

Lies. You’d omitted that you didn’t really care what you should or should not be doing when it came to him.

“I’m not. In fact, I feel the most comfortable when I am around you, Admiral.”

“Then I see no way our friendship could conflict with our duties. Do you?”

You’d expected a solid ‘no’, or at least a vigorous shake of his head. Instead, he hesitated. Your eyebrows twitched.

“It does, in a way,” he half-heartedly admitted. You weren’t sure you liked where this was going. But he must have noticed your body tensing up, as he quickly added, “Although not in what I would consider a bad way.”

“How so, then?”

“Some days, when I read news of the war on other fronts, the first thing on my mind isn’t ‘How would I have handled this?’, or ‘What can I learn from this?’. The first thing on my mind is you, and how I can’t wait to discuss it with you.” He’d glance around as he spoke, switching from looking at you, to his plate of food, sometimes at yours or at the decor in your kitchen. “There are moments when I am in the middle of the firing zone, and I have to make the decision on whether I should ask for air support. And I find myself secretly wishing you are the one commanding those ships that drop into the atmosphere. Because it means I get to thank you later.”

Your grip tightened around the glass of wine as you brought it to your face and pressed your cheek against it. It was a useless attempt to keep you from blushing, but the coldness grounded you.

“I understand,” you muttered after a few moments of silence. He looked up at you, but you had to avoid it. “When I come up with strategies, I never consider them any good until I pass them through you. I always pay extra attention to what the 501st is up to in briefings. Kriff, my mother got me a chrono and all I could think of was how I was going to gift it to you instead.”

Had you accidentally slipped truth serum into the pasta? What was happening?

You both chuckled nervously at your last confession.

“I have never had the opportunity to call someone a close friend,” you continued, trying to figure out ways to drive the awkwardness away from the conversation. “But I suppose this is what it feels like. I’d rather know I have a friend in you than to be permanently struggling to come up with ways to win the war by myself.”

“Of course you have a friend in me. You will always have.”

While he delivered the line with a smile on his face that you mirrored, a wave of sadness engulfed you. You continued eating, stopping now and then to either comment on rumours and news from the battlefield or on how coincidental it was that both of you had only one day of leave left. Knowing that, you felt as if the Galaxy was prodding you to do something about the craving of your heart, but your mind was quick to quiet that plan. He would have said it by now, wouldn’t he? You had given him all the signs — told him how your thoughts always seemed to lead to him. He would have done something about it, had he thought the same of you.

***

Rex wasn’t sure he could hold the food down for much longer. It wasn’t anything physical — and the taste had been exceptional — but he felt as though there was an ever-growing hole in his stomach that threatened to kick everything else out.

What was he doing? He had come all this way, encouraged by his brothers, to let you know how he felt about you. It was the right thing to do. From there, you would have the power to decide whether you should never speak again, or…

Or what?

What options did he really have, but sit awake at night and think of all the what-ifs? You were an Admiral in the Republic’s Navy, and he was a clone commander. Bred for war. Not for figurative earthquakes in his stomach.

Then you’d said it again, that wretched word. Friend. Close friend — the culmination of what was possible and realistic between the two of you. It was, at its core, bittersweet. He was honoured you considered him a close friend, but ashamed that he wanted more. He was sitting in your home, eating your food, drinking your wine, and he still wasn’t satisfied.

***

It wasn’t hard to revert to a normal dinner conversation after clarifying the matter, but a remnant of doubt still nagged you. Whether he felt the same, Rex didn’t show it.

As you both finished your food, the uncomfortable atmosphere of having left things unsaid grew exponentially. He still had some wine left in his glass, yet you hadn’t touched yours, besides a courteous sip. You didn’t trust yourself that much. Even sober, you could barely hold your feelings in.

The time to clean up the table eventually came, and he had insisted that he could at least bring his own plate to the sink. You let him, but instructed him to leave the glass on the countertop next to it.

Instead of pouring the untouched wine into the sink, you stopped behind him and downed it. He said nothing about it, but looked at you curiously.

“I never said it back,” you commented while placing your empty glass of wine next to his, avoiding his gaze. The gesture brought the two of you even closer.

“Said what back?”

“You told me I would always have a friend in you. I never said you would, too.” You looked up at him and met his confused grimace with a dead-serious gaze. “You have more than a friend in me.”

His grimace faltered, and his gaze matched yours. You’d said it, and this was it. The decision was his. You had both experienced enough awkward moments, one more could hardly make a difference.

But there was nothing awkward about it anymore. Your gaze moved between his lips and his eyes. His did the same. Instead of constantly replaying everything you had ever said to him, your mind was now completely blank, but at peace. You were living every second of that moment. Every heartbeat, every inhale, and every exhale. All you could see was him — his beautiful eyes and his lips that he parted.

You didn’t notice him raising his hand, but you felt it on the back of your neck. His thumb brushed against your ear, but then he broke eye contact for a couple of moments to arrange a strand of hair behind it. You released the breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in, and he met your eyes again.

He smiled down at you — sadly, in a way, but in his eyes a glint of hope that you were too familiar with. “Then you can have anything you want in me.”

You brought both your hands to his face, tracing your thumbs along his chin. You kept going until your hands were close to the back of his head, and you pulled him in. He closed his eyes, but you felt his grip on you become weaker. You both had the same voices in your heads, trying to convince you that your actions were wrong. But you wouldn’t let those voices win him over. Your own, you could handle. You had ignored them for so long; they had no effect on you.

As your lips crashed against his, you closed your eyes in reaction to the shivers running down your spine. He hummed softly, and something inside you went wild at the sound. You dug your nails into the back of his head and parted your lips to deepen the kiss.

First, you tasted the wine that lingered on his lips. And then, as he gave in and crashed against your lips, you tasted him. His passion, his fervor, and all the words he had wished to tell you until that moment. All the missed opportunities and all the doubts that now held no meaning anymore. No unspoken words or repressed cravings could bring you down from the high you were experiencing as he let go of his hesitation and leaned into you.

His grip on you grew tighter and his humming against your lips more frequent. You were finally his, fully his, body and soul alike.

When he pulled away, he did so as slowly as possible, as if afraid he would wake up from a dream. You kept your eyes closed until you felt him press his forehead against yours.

Your hands that had, until that point, caressed his skin with desperation — proof of your own patience having been torn to shreds — fell limply at your sides. He ran his fingers through your hair, and you watched him revel in the moment.

Finally, he opened his eyes and whatever glimpse of sadness in them was gone. But in a split second, you could tell there was something on his mind.

“Before you tell me we shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed, “let’s just do it one more time.”

He didn’t reply, but he moved his hand from the back of your neck to your front, running his thumb across your collarbone, and then back up to cup your cheek.

You had to stand on your toes to reach him and kiss him again. You felt electrified once again, but it lasted for a shorter while this time — he wasn’t reacting to it. Pulling away, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you. There was a war raging inside him. But you weren’t so sure of your actions anymore, either. You didn’t want your selfishness to break him. It took every ounce of self-control left in you not to beg him to ignore all rules for one night. Your night.

He cupped your other cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to his.

“One more time,” he repeated, his voice somehow hoarse and soft at the same time. His lips caught yours in a hard kiss. Not as gentle and timid as he had been until then — he had won the battle against those voices. Your hands reached for the seams of his shirt and just as you slipped your fingers underneath them, before you could register what his skin felt like, an alarm pulled you out of it.

Both physically and mentally.

You retracted your hands, and he took a step back, breaking the kiss. You could hear your heart starting to crack.

The alarm was coming from the living room, where he had left his change of clothes. And his comlink.

He looked between you and the direction where it was coming from, as if waiting for your approval to leave. The corner of your mouth twitched into a smile and you gestured with your head in the direction of the living room. As he took the call, you picked a spot on the floor to stare at blankly. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but you figured out easily what it was about.

A few moments and he appeared at the threshold, fully clad in his armor, his helmet under his arm and a conflicted expression on his face.

“The 501st is being dispatched to Ryloth for an emergency rescue mission,” he explained, and you struggled to offer him a comforting smile. His voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was the tone of a clone commander speaking to his superior.

You made your way towards him and reached out to arrange the collar of his blacks. He had readied himself in such a hurry he hadn’t noticed it getting awkwardly stuck beneath his armor-plate. “Make sure you get some rest on the way there.”

Once you fixed him, you looked up and had to swallow your frustration. He was just as saddened by it as you were, judging by the look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, but you shook your head.

“You’ll be if you don’t come back in one piece. So make sure you’re well-rested,” you said, ignoring the voice in your head that was raging at whoever needed saving. You started dragging yourself towards the front door of your apartment to walk him out, and he followed.

“I don’t know when I’ll come back. I don’t know when we’re going to see each other again.”

Before pressing the button to open the door, you turned around and pursed your lips. “I understand. But it seems we have kept bumping into each other during this entire war. Perhaps it will stay that way. Perhaps this is where we are meant to be,” you said. “Two entities crossing each other’s paths until it becomes one.”

Your words seemed to bring some comfort to him, at least enough to get him to move again. But before he exited, just as he had walked by you, he stopped once again to look at you, in case it was the last chance he would get. You did the same.

“One more time,” you muttered as you took a wide step towards him. He extended his free arm to wrap it around your waist while yours curled around his neck. And your lips met once again, with the same passion they had the first time.

You didn’t want him to go. You didn’t want it to end. You wanted him to hold you for one minute longer, and then have that minute bleed into an hour, a night, a lifetime. But you had both agreed on it, less than an hour earlier. It wouldn’t affect your duties. Although it already did.

You both ended the kiss with a smile on your faces. He would find his way back to you. This couldn’t be the end of it.

That night, you found the spare clothes you had given him neatly arranged on the sofa. You finished the bottle of wine by yourself and fell asleep dressed in his scent. You would go back to your ship the next day — hoping, as always, that your next campaign would somehow involve the 501st. But knowing now that he shared the same hope as you.

#captain rex x reader #rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex reader insert #commander rex x reader

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Just for Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Leia

(WARNING for major character death)

It wouldn't be long now.

Kix had warned the general that her time was growing short, and that had been months ago. General Leia Organa had taken the news of her impending death rather well, all things considered. She had accepted it with the grace of her mother, despite the well-known joke that she had inherited her father's temper.

Leia hadn't been able to get out of bed that morning. It had only taken Kix a few hours to notice her absence, though she hadn't called him. Despite his grimness at the day ahead, Kix hadn't been able to suppress a smile. It was such a Skywalker trait to ignore their health, even until death.

The scanner let out a smooth beep - a world of difference from the scanners he had grown used to during the war. The universe had benefited greatly from the half-century of tech advancements that had occurred while Kix slept. Still, he didn't need to check the small readout to know what was happening. He had seen death too many times in too many forms to be fooled by a slow fade.

"Your major systems are beginning to shut down," he told Leia, resting a comforting hand over hers. Her skin was cool to the touch, but her fingers were steadfast rather than shaking. She had known. "It won't be more than a few more hours."

She smiled at him, her brown eyes warm and steady - so much like Padmé's that it hurt. "Thank you, Kix."

It sounded like a dismissal, but Kix didn't budge. "I'll be here with you until it happens."

Leia huffed out a small chuckle. "Kix, you have better things to do than sit with an old woman and wait for her to die."

Kix squinted up at the sky. It was mid-morning and the sky was bright and clear. Leia had been moved to the shade of a shallow cave - protected from the sun and wind, but still able to see and feel the world around her. It was a lovely spot to spend time. "I can't think of a single one, General. With respect, I'll stay."

"Respect," she snorted, shaking her head. "Well, if you're intent on staying, I'm going to put you to work."

He quirked a brow in silent response and she grinned broadly. The expression was such a mirror of General Skywalker's mischievous smile that Kix's heart lurched for a moment. She seemed to be thinking along a similar wavelength, because she ordered, "Tell me about my parents."

"Your parents?" he repeated stupidly. "Breha and Bail or the General and the Senator?"

"Both," Leia said, settling against the pillows protecting her back from the chilled stone wall of the cave. "Though I'm surprised you know anything at all about the Organas."

"Well, Bail in particular liked to have clone troopers escort him on diplomatic missions," Kix told her. "He thought it struck the right tone between showing up with obvious protection and showing up with no protection at all. Most of his escorts were from the Coruscant Guard, but we always shared our stories."

It was some hours later when Kix finally finished with, "...and Bail Organa, the great senator from Alderaan, had to run out of there at full speed, his ornate senatorial robes carried in his arms like a child and blaster fire hitting the ground behind every step! He always swore it was the last time he would bother going to Rattatak."

Leia laughed uproariously, wiping tears from her cheeks. "He never told me that version of the story! He just said that senators weren't welcome on Rattatak and that I shouldn't go… but if I did, I should make sure to wear comfortable shoes. I always wondered what he meant by that."

"One mystery solved," Kix told her with a smile.

"And just in time," she agreed. "I would hate to have missed that story. Now, what about my birth parents? I understand you worked with my father, but I wouldn't have expected you to know my mother. She was said to be beautiful and kind, passionate about political causes but not overly involved."

Kix snorted so hard that his throat stung. "Not overly involved? Did Senator Organa tell you that?"

"He did," Leia said, a wry grin playing around her mouth. "I take it that was a fairytale, an attempt to make me behave?"

"Maybe he knew a different side of Padmé than I did, but I've never known a politician to get in so many shootouts, present company excluded."

"Shootouts?" she asked, incredulous.

"Oh, yeah," Kix affirmed with a deep nod for emphasis. "I can't count how many times we were sent in to save your mother after she had gone in to try to make peace with some Seppie-leaning world and things had gone wrong. It didn't help that your father was in love with her by that point. He would have deployed the entire GAR if it meant keeping her safe, and he wasn't especially careful who knew about it…"

As he spoke, a small part of Kix's brain was working on the medical side of things. He tracked exactly how much color Leia's face was losing, watched as she leaned more and more of her weight against the pillows, and noted exactly when she stopped asking questions. Eventually, she stopped even replying to him.

Kix kept talking. Every bit of experience he had told him that hearing was the last sense to fade, and he would not let his general's daughter die in silence, wondering if everyone had abandoned her. He paused only once in his storytelling, and it was to administer a small dose of pain meds when Leia's breathing grew labored.

As the sun dropped low in the sky, Kix told story after story to the unresponsive woman in the bed in her cave. He talked about senators and generals, padawans and Jedi masters, of a war that had ended, but only in the least expected of ways, and of an army of identical men who spent their days finding ways to be different.

When her chest had stopped rising and falling, Kix stood to pull the bed's sheet up and over her slack face.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum," he said in harsh Mando'a, the words still echoing with the pain of a thousand losses. "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Leia Organa, Breha Organa, Bail Organa, Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rex, Jesse, Fives, Echo, Tup, Appo, Dogma, Hardcase…"

The list continued until Kix felt lighter, purged somehow of the weight of death. Remembering the little he had been told about ghosts in the Force, he glanced around the clearing. It was hazy in the dusky twilight, but he could see that no one else was nearby.

"If you're here, General Skywalker... take care of her. Your daughter found a way to be extraordinary in a world that tries to stomp out every bit of that it can find."

For a moment, Kix felt the shadow of a hand's weight on his shoulder, the sensation of company, of brotherhood - and it was gone. He was alone in the shallow cave once more. He squared his shoulders, gathering his thoughts and willpower for the days ahead.

There was work to be done.

---

A/N - This is probably the most angst-driven thing I will ever write. Two months ago, I had a family member pass away. This chapter was written as a way of processing the feelings of sitting by someone's bedside as they shut down. I definitely cried while I wrote this one. Sorry for the information overload! I have one more chapter planned for this series (though I always reserve the right to add more, haha) and I promise that it's far more cheerful than this one. You made it through the worst!

#Just for Kix #Nobody Listens to Kix #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #medic kix #clone trooper kix #clone medic kix #kix #future #general leia organa #star wars the rise of skywalker #clone troopers deserve better #more to come #please reblog

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uponrightful · 3 years

Note

I've been wanting to send this one in for a while. What was going through the Wolfpacks mind and how much did Wolffe hear?

“I’d heard about him a lot from your brothers, how angry he was and that they thought he could use someplace like here. Home. But I didn’t think that he would ever show up. And, after a couple times something happened. I don’t know who really even started it.” The girl took another steadying breath, before continuing on the now spilling thoughts and feelings she’d been bottling up for months now. Completely unaware of the three men’s attention being drawn out the window where a grey and blue painted trooper walked towards the front door.

“I think about him, all the time. I hear his voice when I wake up, and I constantly dream about him. It’s like I’m constantly in this fever dream where I’ve finally been given something that I can’t deny I want.” All of the confusion crashed down in a wave of crystal-clear realization. Audience of troopers aside, the girl hadn’t thought it all through so straight.

She was brought back to Rex, sitting there drinking his caf with a look of disappointment when she’d mentioned that there wasn’t anything she wanted out of life. Other than helping the troopers. It hadn’t been the first time he’d asked, and she hadn’t realized why until now. She had the ability to have what she wanted. Regulations didn’t affect her, and neither did anyone else who didn’t have her best interests at heart. Rex hadn’t meant love specifically, or anything of the like, but what she didn’t get was why it mattered. His constant reminders spoken to the fact that without knowing… she couldn’t possibly go about getting it. Whatever “it” is. The girl’s sudden epiphany was that she finally knew -for once in her life- that there was something she wanted more than anything.

And that was Wolffe.

Her awestruck reaction and frozen posture thawed to see not a single pair of eyes focused on her. Boost, Sinker and Comet were all watching high above her head into the kitchen at something positively damning. Behind her, the heavy sound of boots thumped against the floor echoing off the silent walls of the house. Her heart, already thrumming with personal-realization began working double-time as the steps got closer.

Commentary Track for Welcome Company

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I’ll give my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character’s- when I wrote it!

*Send one in here*

@taz-107 You and I have some of the best discussions on literally everything Clones, and I'm so happy you sent this one in! I kinda went all-in, because I know you don't mind my word vomit 😅

I love you dearly 🤍

***

Let's start with the Wolfpack shall we?

Comet and Sinker know Pup the best, obviously. They think she's sweet, and they've always had a sense of little-sister vibes from her. It's the way she always invites them in, and never let's them leave without being adamant that they come back again... Preferably leaving less time between visits. Her home is one that the Pack really doesn't get to spend much time in, but when they do get the chance it's like they never left. Habits are created very easily, so the same dinners are almost always on the menu and there's almost a bedtime ritual they both have which never goes abandoned. Comet and Sinker are men of habit, but they never miss out on Pup's willingness to oblige them basically anything they want.

For Boost, his normal happy-go-lucky (and troublemaker) attitude is absent. This is the first time he's meeting Pup, and like most troopers he's hesitant for a number of reasons. It's illegal what they're doing, and although this girl has been nothing but a god-send for his brothers, it's nerve-racking to be in an unusual situation like sitting in a living room and talking just for the enjoyment of it. In a matter of an evening though, he's already falling into that same trap of love and affection that everyone else does when they meet Pup. She's sweet, and overly worrisome about his boots not being comfortable. (Something Boost wasn't sure he'd ever thought about before.)

The Pack's decision to make a visit wasn't a difficult one to make. Each of them had seen the changes in Wolffe's personality, whether big or small, and right away they knew that it was because he'd finally went for his own visit. It wasn't until Chapter Five that they realize there's something more going on than just what Comet and Sinker are familiar with experiencing during their stays at Home. It's the way their Commander doesn't seem to respond to them quickly -like he's off somewhere else in his mind- and the many times they've caught him taking a nap during a mission, mumbling to himself with the occasional slip-up of her name crossing his lips. The entire Wolfpack -Plo Koon included- know that their Commander has it bad. And initially, they're a little bit confused as to why Pup would ever take a liking to someone as harsh as Wolffe.

Note: Until this point, no one has seen Wolffe interact with Pup, and I made this decision very carefully. It was crucial that Wolffe come to form some sense of habit and security with her before this moment happens. It's to better display the completely different way Wolffe acts as a Commander, versus when he's with Pup. Wolffe is extremely talented at prioritizing tasks, whatever they may be. Therefore, when he's a soldier that's the only thing he normally has the mental capacity for. But when he's with Pup, he takes that romantic role just as seriously as he would directing troops on the frontlines.

The Pack know Wolffe is the one coming in the door. They also realize that they'd incidentally forced Pup's hand, and now they had no way of stopping her from talking without making everything even more awkward than it's already becoming. With every second that passes between seeing him walk past the window, Pup just keeps talking and the collective hope of the 104th is that Wolffe's change in attitude isn't just a passing fancy for Pup, and that her proclamation of love is one that their brother will see as something significant. In the background of this apprehension for Wolffe's reaction, they're actually shocked to hear Pup admit what she does about Wolffe.

They've always known Wolffe to be a little on the stiff side of rules and decorum, and even the mention of him being the least bit romantic enough to capture her attention is just another blow to these men's (hopelessly misguided) ideas about their Commander. He's not the most gentle person, and Pup is nothing short of an angel... (That's literally Sinker's nickname for her.) They make for a strange pair, and there's a bit of all three of them that have the same worry that Rex does; Can she actually handle him?

Note: I've always thought of Wolffe as a tortured soul, that never deserved the copious punishments that was handed to him in his life. And in the fic, there was a huge motivation to really play up just how worried troopers get about their brothers who end up the way Wolffe is when we see him post-cybernetics. He's angry and vicious to an extent. Not that he was a really carefree guy to begin with, but it's such a contrast that all of the men who knew Wolffe closely can see a very scary change in the Commander once he's brought back for duty. (Fives and Rex's conversation in Chapter Five is where I tried to make that fear a little more palpable and realistic of what war has done to Wolffe through the eyes of men who've seen things similar...)

They hear her words, and they're all staring at Wolffe who's got the most impassive expression they've ever seen before. It's stiffer than when he's at a parade rest, and even his posture looks like it could fucking snap at any second. But the second Pup's pause of realization hits her, Wolffe suddenly decides to join them all. Every last one of the Pack are holding their breath for this; Literally none of them have any idea of what to expect. They're all making subconscious guesses, trying to read his movements, literally anything that might help try and relax this tension. But when Wolffe just sits himself down at Pup's feet; Stretching out his leg and visibly melting back against her chair...

It's utter shock.

Note: I chose Boost for the next POV because he fit the need perfectly. Not only does he know Wolffe extremely well, but he doesn't have this predetermined idea of what Pup is like. He knows on a surface level that she's very kind and a little shy. But I needed him for this moment because it's truly perception-bending to see Wolffe take such a submissive posture towards this girl. (Her admittance that she loves him aside.) Boost has never seen Wolffe carry himself like that, and I wanted you to see it through his eyes because that's Wolffe's constant personality. Pup is the only one who's seen Wolffe soft -so this isn't new to her- but for the Pack, this is unprecedented behavior.

Now for our sweet, sweet, Commander 🤍

Wolffe was very preoccupied with his conversation with Anakin from Chapter Six and the upset over being forced to come back so late in the evening. He wouldn't dare not return after promising that he would, but the idea of making her wait up so late didn't sit right with him in the slightest. Being so caught up in his own head, he doesn't notice the Wolfpack staring at him through the open window dressings, and he's completely unaware that they'd chosen to come and see her as well. (He tries not to worry himself too much about what they do on planet-leave, and this was just one of his weaker moments.) Not that Wolffe would ever admit to being constantly worried about his brother's getting into trouble, and him not being able to get them out of it.

But all of that changes the second he walks into the house and hears Pup talking. It's not what she's saying at first; But instead just hearing her voice is enough to make Wolffe pause and listen as he pulls his bucket off his head. She's so soft, but this time there's a different edge to it; And standing in the hallway is when Wolffe finally realizes that she's talking about him. It's a miracle he didn't drop his bucket in a loud clatter to the floor in that instant.

Pup is saying things that Wolffe couldn't have dreamt about even coming from her mouth. Admitting that he’s in her dreams like she constantly takes a place in his. Detailing just how surreal it is to have him around her, just like it feels in his own mind. Pup is speaking exactly what Wolffe has been feeling for months and it's all Wolffe can to do try and stay quiet, just so he doesn't miss another word. Every syllable is spoken like she read it right from his heart, and Wolffe is so speechless that he's on the verge of busting through the house to find her and really show her exactly what a fever-dream he could provide for her.

But the moment he sees his brothers, all staring at his shadowed figure in the kitchen he realizes that they knew he was listening, and that now there was no turning back. Wolffe is feeling really pressured at this moment. Not because he doesn't love Pup -because he really does- but it's hard to traverse the admission with his men watching him for a reaction. They know nothing about his relationship with Pup, and he's kept it that way for fear of someone thinking it was unprofessional, and attempting to do something about it that would not only risk himself and the other men who need her, but Pup herself for providing care and warmth to men who were considered GAR property. He doesn't suspect that his men would ever do something like that, but there's this sense of fear that makes Wolffe present himself so emotionlessly. That is, until he can collect his own emotions for hearing her, and try to play it off.

Note: Wolffe is very skittish. And that's all to do with the treatment he faced after his fight with Ventress. He thinks very lowly of himself personally, but has an unbreakable expectation that he do everything exactly as it should be done without failure. This makes him a wonderful leader, but god-awful at admitting he has feelings aside from diplomatic neutrality. He's struggling to do the right thing here, when there really isn't a textbook example of how to handle expressing the emotion of know the person you love, admitting to loving you back in front of a small crowd. Wolffe doesn't understand that anything he could've chosen to do would've been acceptable here. But in the end, Wolffe's diplomacy is what guided the plot. (Once again, I only write for the characters, I hardly ever get creative liberty when coming to the conclusion of what my non-OC characters do. Even then, my OC's are very diligent in reminding me that they have their own personalities and I can't just make them do anything.)

Wolffe chooses what feels comfortable to him in this moment. At this point, everyone -including Pup- is waiting for him. And when he walks into the living room, his first instinct is to go where he feels the safest. And that's with her. (It's important that he sits at her feet and I'll tell you why in a moment.) Wolffe wants to be with her as best he can in this moment. He still feels that emotional relief and warmth of hearing her say she had the same feelings for him, but the last thing he wants to do is put either of them on the spot in front of his brothers that are appearing very worried and utterly confused at the moment. So to tone down the tension he'd accidentally created, he just does what feels right; And that's to let Pup know he's happy to see her, and give the apology he'd been meaning to all along.

"Sorry m'late."

From there, his men -sharp as ever- realize that he has wants to do this one his own, and Comet takes the initiative to take conversation somewhere else for the time being. He's silently grateful for that, and although he never says anything to them about it, Wolffe is certain that they did so on his behalf and wouldn't expect a thank you for it.

The rest of the night is easy to get lost in. His boys -always needing to show off- take turns coming into themselves again, and decide that a competition of war-stories and funny -albeit stupid- stories are in order. It feels natural like this, and Wolffe hasn't ever felt so proud having all of his brothers and his precious lady all in the same room where they can just be normal for a little while. He's extremely attentive to Pup's attempts at touching him, and he has to bite back a smile when he feels her secretive touches against his back. She's doing it on purpose to avoid his brother's notice, but Wolffe realizes she's probably just as nervous to be outright about it as well. After all, he'd not made a single comment about what she'd said, but he was kriffing surprised that it didn't change her desire to be close to him.

Note: Wolffe sat on the floor for a reason. And it wasn't my decision in the slightest. The way the living room sits, Pup has the best view of the room. Her back is to a corner, and the couch and chair that Boost, Sinker, and Comet occupy and positioned to face in her direction. It's strategic -and instinctual- that Wolffe put himself at the center of attention. That is basically a requirement that he head his squad at all times, and naturally he doesn't distinguish this scenario apart from any other. It's simply the Commanding Officer in him. But to a -wonderfully complex- part of Wolffe's character, he's doing it because that puts Pup at his back where he knows she's safe. His brother's aren't harmful in the slightest, but Wolffe knows that should there be a threat, he'll see them coming, and they'd have to go through him to get to her first. Protecting Pup is one of Wolffe's greatest motives throughout the entire fic, and this was one moment I wanted to play that theme out silently. (I don't know if anyone really picked up on it.)

This choice to sit at her feet appears very submissive to the Pack, and to Pup for that matter. But really Wolffe is subconsciously staking claim and protective charge over Pup without even realizing that he's doing so. For example; he could've picked her up and sat down in the chair with her in his lap, he could've sat down next to one of his brothers instead, or even chose to stand somewhere. But all of those choices leave Pup undefended. Wolffe doesn't see that he's doing it, and neither does anyone else in a very direct way. But if you pay attention to the way I toned the scene, you'll notice that Wolffe doesn't ever lose control of the room. Focus and power is always on him even when no one thinks wiser. It's what makes Wolffe such a commander figure all of the time. He has a natural predisposition to hold command, so even when Wolffe isn't trying have dominance, it's always present in the subtle way he moves, speaks, and presents himself to those around him.

***

Thank you for sending this in my love ☺️ I hope it wasn't too long, and you covered everything well enough! If not, let me know what I missed and I'd be glad to fill in the blank spots!

Much Love, Rightful 🤍

#commentary track #welcome company #commander wolffe #wolffe #pup #boost #sinker #comet #uponrightful #uponrightfulwrites

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alderaani · 3 years

Text

Skies

summary: After a long campaign, Jesse and Hardcase indulge in some well earned TLC. AO3 | Series

Part of my 100-clone centric prompts series, prompt list used is here

wanrings: allusions to canon-typical violence, death mention.

a/n: oof, I’ve been so unmotivated to write recently, so i’m honestly just relieved to have finished something. i’ve been wanting to write this for ages, based off this post by @lilhawkeye3 - it’s such an endearing image.

The ocean didn’t smell anything like Hardcase thought it would.

He slipped his bucket from his head, squinting against the sudden rush of unfiltered light. On either side of him troopers broke free of the tree line, and, feeling sand beneath their boots, took off whooping towards the frothing crest of the sea. The sunset blazed red and orange, bleeding like a punctured egg yolk across the cloudless horizon and into distant water. Hardcase breathed in, wrinkling his nose against the salt-laden tang, so visceral he could taste it.

It wasn’t like Kamino. That was almost the biggest surprise. He’d thought that oceans would be the same everywhere, but this wasn’t a bad way to be proven wrong. It was the salt, he realised after a moment, darting his tongue out to touch his lips. There weren’t really any beaches on Kamino, though he supposed there must be sand under there somewhere. There were no winding strips where ocean met land, where the sun could ferment the pools, rocks and shells left behind. It tasted lighter there, cleaner, more cut through by its brutal winds. He breathed in deep again, wrinkling his nose and grinning at the way the seasoned tang sat on his palate here, briny and thick.

It was the colour too, that really made the difference. It was so pale and clear on this far-flung planet, instead of the angry greyish blue he remembered. The waves were...politer, somehow. Less vengeful, not boiling with ever-falling rain. Several troopers had reached the shore now and were chasing the surf, shouting and laughing when it nipped at their heels.

He decided he rather liked it.

It was something different after weeks spent cowering under cover further inland, coated in showers of dark earth from enemy artillery and rationing out stale water in mouthfuls that were barely enough to coat the back of the throat. Even the air was damp here, and overhead the gulls were crying, sharp against the thundering crash of the waves. He lived for these moments, these breaths between the axel-grind of war. It was true that he loved the spoil of a fight, loved sinking into it and letting his Z6 sing. But there was a different, more intoxicating thrill in these snatched hours or - if they were lucky - days. He’d never voiced it to anyone, but he sometimes thought he might like to do this all the time, one day, trawling the stars and standing beneath unfamiliar skies. For the views, this time, explored under his own rhythm.

Yeah. That sounded pretty good.

“Oi, Hardcase!” Someone bellowed, sticking up a hand and waving at him amidst a far away knot of troopers knee deep in the sea. “You coming?”

He shook himself, setting down his pack and his Z6 with loving care amongst the mountainous piles of gear, before jogging down the dunes, following the trails of discarded armour and the shouts, happy laughter and splashes echoing from the water. The wind was sharp on his face and neck and on the strips of skin at his wrists, intoxicating and too heady to ignore. The sand was strangely weightless beneath him, too. He’d slept on a real feather pillow, once, while they were hunkered down on Ord Sedra and several hundred crates of luxury bedding had gotten damaged in the crossfire. It had felt like floating, and all of them had tossed and turned all night. This was similar, and just as strange...what would it all feel like on his skin?

The thought wouldn’t let him go. Halfway down the beach he sat to strip off his boots, then his plates, then his blacks, until he stood in just his greys, laughing at the feeling of the wind and the spray licking against his body. The way it cut through the stubble sprouting on his scalp after far too long stuck in a bucket-locked zone was...disconcerting. The prickle of just-forming curls felt like phantom fingers on the nape of his neck, and he’d found the way sweat clung to hair under his helmet sort of disgusting - it reminded him of being an under-washed cadet. Frankly, he didn’t plan on letting it stay long enough to get used to it.

The sand though...now that was weird. The way it sat between his toes made him squirm, each grain a bolting pinprick against the soles of his feet. When had he last had his boots off? Back on the Venator in the communal fresher, probably. It was a cruel galaxy when that barren room and its clinical racks of scentless soap started to look like a king’s treasury. He dug his feet into the cold, wet sludge, shivering in disgusted delight as the beach swallowed them whole.

“Hardcase!”

He looked towards the bellowing figure stumbling up the sand towards him, squinting as the sun hit their upturned face. Then he barked a laugh of surprise at the edge of the Republic cog he found there.

“ Jesse? Kriff, vod, barely recognised you.”

It was the first time he’d seen his flesh face in weeks, aside from in hurried moments allocated for gulping down rations. Jesse’s hair had grown in thick and black, much to the consternation of several brothers who were offended he could grow a moustache like that and still chose not to. Right now, he reached up to scratch the offending hair on his cheeks and scowled.

“S’rich comin’ from you. What is that slug on your face?”

Hardcase winced. His own unwilling hair cultivation very much proved that clones were not all made equal.

“It’s a casualty,” he said, feeling the short, patchy bristles on his upper lip. His trainer had always promised it would settle as he came out of puberty. That had been a lie. Hardcase blamed it on the crack in his growth jar, like he did most minor physical inconveniences. “This is why I don’t bother with the stuff.”

Jesse nodded, turning away to rummage through the packs strewn over the sand. “It just won’t stop itchin’.”

“You’re telling me.” Hardcase groaned. “You didn’t get woken up last night because your hair tickled the back of your neck and made you think you were bein’ jumped.”

Jesse snorted, straightening back up with his meagre GAR-standard microfibre towel in hand and a ration bar hanging from his mouth.

“Was that what that was about?” he asked, voice muffled. “We thought we could hear you squirmin’.”

Hardcase kicked lightly at Jesse’s ankle. “Real nice of you to not even ask if I was alright.”

Jesse broke off the ration bar and smirked round his mouthful.

“‘Case, it’s when you go quiet that we start asking questions.”

Hardcase shoved him. Jesse went down with a yelp and a curse, his towel catching under his ass and the loose end flapping like a banner in the wind. Hardcase bellowed a laugh, kicking sand towards him. It was a fatal mistake.

Jesse caught him by the ankle and yanked him down too. He landed on his stomach, still laughing as the wind knocked out of him, and scrambled forward with abandon, yelping with shock as water seeped cold and heavy into his greys. He wasn’t fast enough. A leg slung heavy over Hardcase’s ankles, pinning him, and then Jesse’s weight was pressing down on his back, forcing his face towards the wet sand.

“Get off, you kriffin’ shabiir,” he laughed, groaning as Jesse adjusted his weight and squashed the air out of his lungs.

“I’m not the one startin’ fights they can’t finish,” Jesse retorted, his voice light.

“Who said I was finished?” Hardcase shot back, going limp and then bucking hard. Jesse swore, losing his grip, and then they were scrabbling again, a tangle of limbs and righteous yelling.

The fight ended with them lying side by side on their backs, both covered in muck. Hardcase was sure he had sand in his crotch. The sun was still blazing on the horizon, lower now, deepening from yellow to dark, hazy red. It gleamed like fire on the water, like copper on the sand. This world was so reluctant to let the light go, eking out the daylight drop by drop. An errant touch to his thigh made him look over. Jesse was rummaging around underneath himself, grumbling about something digging into his back.

“You think we’ll get to stay here long?” Hardcase asked eventually.

“Aw, hell,” Jesse said, pulling the squashed, sandy remains of his ration bar from underneath him. “This was my last flavoured one. What’d you say?”

“D’you think we’ll stay long?”

Jesse hummed, flinging the ration bar away up the beach. A gull immediately swooped down to snatch it. “Here? Don’t think so. Heard Rex talking to the General, lots still to do before we can get off this rock.”

Hardcase sighed, letting the disappointment wash over him quietly. He shut his eyes again, just listening for a moment, committing the sounds of the sea to memory. It wouldn’t be goodbye. He’d come back to this place, one day. He’d make sure of it.

“So,” he said, cutting himself off before the longing could get too strong. “We gonna shave or what?”

Jesse scoffed. “What? Now?”

Hardcase shrugged. “Why not? We leave here, we’re gonna be back on water rations, right? You really want that nest growin’ for however the fuck long?”

Jesse sighed. “Course I don’t. But what the hell’re we gonna shave with? You didn’t bring your razor, did you?”

“Not a chance,” Hardcase said. That was only a mistake shinies made.

It wasn’t so bad if you lost one of the Kamino issue ones - those were about as blunt as a butter knife. Better to grow hair on campaign and hack it off later than lose one you’d bartered. He still mourned the first he’d ever owned - he’d never seen another with the same quality Corellian steel, and Uppercut had been so smug to win it over sabaac. Gracious enough to let him keep using it though. Some of Hardcase’s best memories were in front of fresher mirrors with him, taking it in turns and helping catch any stray hairs, paying each other in gossip for their trouble. He still hadn’t forgiven that bastard for dying. The first time he’d had to shave after had left him curled over the sink, his head half lathered and his whole body shaking, so on their next planetfall he’d taken the razor with him and buried it in the nicest spot he could find.

Uppercut had always preferred cities to trees, but Hardcase hoped that, wherever he was, he’d appreciated the effort all the same.

“I do have a vibroblade, though,” he carried on brightly, grinning at the way Jesse’s expression fell.

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on. It won’t be that bad.”

Jesse pushed up on his elbows, his face scrunched. “If you think I’m gonna let you dry shave my head with a dagger, ‘Case, you’re more stupid than you look. I want a haircut, not a cut head.”

Hardcase rolled his eyes. “Who said anything about dry shaving? I’ve got soap.”

Jesse paused. “You’ve had soap this whole time? Here?”

“What can I say, I’m an optimist,” Hardcase said, peeling his back out of the sand. “You in or not?”

Jesse didn’t answer, just stood, grinned, and offered Hardcase a hand.

The light continued to wane as they made their trips up and down the beach, finding a good spot where the shoreline banked a little, and where it would keep the worst of the wind off while Hardcase lathered Jesse’s head. He stuck his tongue out a little as he worked, trying not to get distracted while the frothy water lapped at his ankles. He felt himself loosen as he scraped the vibroblade over his brother’s head, even just the act making him feel more like himself. It relaxed the jittery edge his thoughts always had, dialling down the almost frantic noise that built in combat and then sat under his skin. Usually it took a good spar to bounce it all back out of him, but this had always worked too…it had just been a long time since he’d had anyone else to go through the ritual with.

When it was his turn, he all but melted under the gentle, smooth touch of the vibroblade on his head, the soapy lather chilling quickly on his skin. He hummed, the feeling of the pads of Jesse’s guiding fingers on his chin almost too much sensation after so long under plastoid. He let his mind drift, watching the ocean and listening to Jesse’s mutters and curses as he concentrated.

When they were done and had rinsed in the freezing water, the sun had almost vanished, leaving only a purple after-bruise on the darkened sky. Most of the battalion had settled much further up the beach near the largest sand dunes, so they drifted there and claimed a patch of sand, pulling on their blacks when the sticky film of drying salt water got too much in the cold night air. After a late meal of ration cubes, and, far more enticing, some dried bantha milk the last villages they’d fortified had gifted them, Hardcase was splayed out on his back again and feeling quite ready to have a nap.

Jesse was lounging beside him, carefully rehydrating his milk with water from his field flask. Hardcase couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a night like this, where the war had felt so far away.

They turned their heads at several loud hoots, a crash, and a cheer, followed by an angry bellow. He squinted his eyes against the sudden flare of bright light.

Several brothers had constructed a modest bonfire out of driftwood - and, Hardcase suspected, several unlucky clones’ blacks - and had just tossed over a spare fuel canister, setting the whole thing ablaze in a column of blue flame. The tense figure stalking towards them looked awfully like Appo.

“D’you think we should help him?” Hardcase murmured, his hands propped comfortably under his head. Plasma always burned fast and hot, and he could already feel it faintly against the side of his freshly exposed head. It was nice; soothing, even.

Jesse hummed, pushed up on one elbow so that he could sip at his drink.

“...Nah,” he said slowly, lowering his cup and scrubbing away the blue moustache left behind. He flopped back down with a boneless huff. “Appo’s a big boy. He’s got this.”

Hardcase turned his head again, in time to see Appo tug futilely at some of the dark fabric being swallowed by flame. He chuckled and shut his eyes, breathing in deep and enjoying the soothing melody of shouting that, for once, was not being directed at him.

“Yeah,” he murmured after a moment, sighing as the heat flared and there were more jubilant whoops. “I think you’re right.”

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#alderwrites #hardcase #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse #501st legion #star wars #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #jesse #time to hit post before i can decide i hate this loooool

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