#tcw fanfiction
Note
Alright, and here's request #2
May I ask for Fives and Fox
with Prompt 14: Last Words
Where Fives is haunting Fox after his death. Where "the nightmares are over" is twisted to "the nightmare has just begun".
Girl, you helped me come up with this, you know what to write, lol
❤️ - @vodika-vibes
In Your Head
Fox
Summary: Fox has a hole in his memory that he can't seem to fix, and when he starts hallucinating about the clone he killed, it leads to dire consequences.
Pairing: none
Characters: Fox, Thorn, ghost!Fives
Tags & Warnings: character death, alcohol, drunkenness, hallucinations, paranoia, minor suicidal ideation, violence, whump
Word Count: 6.2k
Author's Note: First of all, I'm going to apologize for how long it's taken me to write one of these requests. Second, all of the requests are still sitting in my ask box. I haven't gotten rid of any of them and I still plan on writing all of them. It's just gonna take me a bit. To be honest, this fic is more Fox whump than Fives whump, but eh, it's still whump and it still includes one of the 501st boys, so that counts, right? As always, please enjoy 💚
Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot
Fox sits hunched over his desk and anxiously raps his stylus against the side of his data-pad. He's read the report five times now and each pass yields the same results. His CC number is littered throughout the paragraphs, but for the life of him, he can't remember any of it. He looks up at the chronometer again and shakes his head. Time has moved, but he hasn't. He's been sitting here at his desk doing flimsi-work since early morning, but the report states otherwise.
It's not just the strange lost time that concerns Fox either, or the fact that his CC number is in a report. That's normal. What bothers him about this report is the fact that it clearly states in paragraph four, line six, that he shot and killed a clone. And no matter how hard he racks his brain, he can't remember it. He hasn't moved from his desk, and yet, the timestamp puts the incident at an hour ago. An hour ago he was at his desk. An hour ago he was doing flimsi-work.
Fox raps his stylus faster and taps his foot to match the rhythm, the nervous energy in his body escaping through the repetitive movements. He wouldn't shoot a clone without a reason, would he? The Coruscant Guard has stunned countless rowdy and reckless, and even dangerous clones, but a brother doesn't shoot another brother with the intent to kill. That's not part of their culture. Even bad clones deserve to explain their actions, but those are few and far between.
It must be a mistake. A typo. There has to be a logical explanation as to why his CC number is in the report even though he wasn't there. Still, he has this odd sinking feeling scratching at the back of his mind that it might not be a mistake. The clone he allegedly shot was from the 501st, from Torrent Company. One of Rex's men. Fox sent a simple comm message to Rex, offering his condolence, but Rex's silence worries him. It's not like Rex to leave a comm unanswered.
Fox drops the data-pad onto his desk with a loud clack and his chair creaks when he leans back. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and brushes the damp curls out of his eyes. It must be a mistake. There is no other explanation. He doesn't have an explanation for the lost time, but there must be a reason for that as well. Maybe he fell asleep. It's not impossible since he doesn't get the best sleep. His caf is cold, so obviously time has passed since he last filled it.
The data-pad dings and Fox leans forward to see what the notification is for. He sighs and taps on the icon to open it, and his brows furrow as he reads the new information. A surveillance holo-recording of the incident is now available and has been attached to the report. Fox huffs. This should clear up everything. He taps the icon to play the recording and watches intently. It was probably some trigger-happy shiny that he'll have a stern talking to later on… but it's not.
Fox's breath hitches and his eyes widen. That's not some random corrie. That's him. That's his armor. He has the fleeting thought that someone stole his armor and impersonated him, but he quickly realizes he's still wearing it. He hasn't taken it off since he put it on this morning. Panic rises in his gut and he continues to watch the recording. He flinches at the moment he pulls the trigger. A blaster bolt leaving the barrel instead of a stun bolt. He killed him. He killed a brother.
That explains why Rex never commed him back. Rex's emotional plea, Fox don't, stabs him in the heart, turning his innocent condolence message into him just rubbing salt into an egregious wound. The report noted the clone killed as ARC-5555 – Fives – one of Rex's best. Fox only remembers the name because Rex sent him a holo-photo of his two new ARC troopers when they graduated. Rex was so proud. Then he lost one on Lola Sayu, and today, he lost the other.
Fox has seen and read enough. It was him, he knows that much, but he still doesn't remember being there. He doesn't remember aiming his blaster, or flicking the safety off, or giving a warning, or pulling the trigger. It's like he was sleep walking, even though not a single clone out of millions has ever been noted to do so on record. He finds it even more odd that he was on scene for the shooting and then left. It's not like him to leave a scene without getting statements or starting his report. Now that he thinks about it, he didn't even write this report. Who did?
Fox yells in frustration and kicks the leg of his desk. Why can't he remember? How could he forget he shot and killed a brother. How could he forget Rex's voice begging him not to? How could he forget leaving his office and coming back? Fox feels sick. Not only did he kill a brother, he killed one of Rex's. A beloved brother. With Rex's radio silence, he probably lost Rex too. Fox doesn't blame him. Not after watching the footage. He would hate himself too, and he does.
Fox pulls a ring of keys from his belt pouch and inserts one into the lock on the bottom desk drawer. It clicks and he pulls it open, revealing a small stash of alcohol resting against the back. The glass bottles clink as he searches for a specific one. Finding it, he pulls it out of the drawer and places it on his desk. He leans down to grab a glass, hesitates, then closes the drawer without taking it. He twists the cap off the bottle, grabs the neck, and tilts the opening to his lips.
"Fox?" Thorn whispers as he peeks into the dark office. "Are you in here?"
Fox groans in response. His torso rests on top of his desk and the side of his face lays on the cool surface with one hand loosely wrapped around an almost empty glass bottle.
Thorn sighs and shakes his head. "What are you doing, Fox?"
"Go away," Fox slurs. His body twitches at the sudden exertion.
Thorn ignores Fox's inebriated order and pulls up a chair to sit opposite Fox's desk.
"Talk to me," Thorn says.
"Nothin'... to talk about," Fox answers.
"You're drunk while on duty," Thorn says. He grabs the bottle out of Fox's loose grip and sets it out of reach. "Why don't we start with that?"
Fox slowly picks his head up to look at Thorn, and he struggles to keep it steady. "Usen'ye," he says, then lays his head back down onto the desk making the room stop spinning.
Thorn taps his fingers against the desk's surface next to Fox's head and Fox flinches at the magnified sound. "I read the report."
Fox groans, but this time with more indignation.
Thorn crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. "I've got all night."
"You're so… annoying," Fox slurs as he slowly picks his head back up to look at Thorn. "You know… that?"
Thorn smirks. "Part of my charm."
"Karking… banthas… have more charm," Fox says, his head swaying as he tries to keep it upright. "You're ugly… too."
Thorn rolls his eyes. "You're getting off topic."
"Why… are you… even here?" Fox asks. He reaches for the bottle and Thorn leans over to move it again.
"You killed a vod," Thorn says.
Fox huffs. "What... do you… know about it?"
"Nothing," Thorn says. "That's why I'm here. To talk to you about it, because clearly it's affecting you."
Fox reaches for the bottle again and Thorn moves it. "I'm… not effective."
"Yeah, I can see that," Thorn raises an eyebrow. "You can't even talk straight."
"Blow it out your… exhaust port," Fox sneers, then reaches for the bottle once more.
"Really?" Thorn asks, as he lifts the bottle up out of Fox's reach. "If I give you the bottle back, will you talk to me?"
Fox smirks through hooded eyes. "Sure."
Thorn places the bottle back down onto the desk and pushes it towards Fox. Fox grabs it, sits back in his chair, and shoots the last burning drops down his throat, then slams the empty bottle down onto the desk.
"Talk," Thorn says. "Why'd you kill a vod?"
Fox chuckles. "I don't know."
Thorn's eyes darken. "This isn't a game, Fox."
"Nah," Fox says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Games… are fun. This... This isn't..."
Thorn tilts his head to the side and studies Fox for a moment. Even drunk, Fox usually makes some sense, but this particular time he's making zero sense. It's not that hard of a question, but his avoidance in answering it is making Thorn worry. There's something Fox isn't telling him and he needs to know what it is in order to help him get out of this slump and back to normal. Having a drunk Marshall Commander leading the Coruscant Guard is going to get them nowhere fast.
"Fox," Thorn prods.
"Don't Fox me," Fox spits in response. "How'd you… like it… if I said your name? Thorn. Thorn. Thorn. Thorn–"
"Alright, I get it," Thorn interjects. "Just tell me what happened."
"I don't know," Fox lazily shrugs.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Thorn asks.
"I don't remember," Fox says.
"You don't remember shooting a vod?" Thorn asks, narrowing his eyes.
"Nope," Fox says, making a popping sound on the second consonant.
Thorn pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "You have to remember something? You killed him. Don't you remember that? Were you drunk then, too?"
"No, I wasn't drunk," Fox says, his agitation growing at the continued questioning. "I just don't remember!" He pounds his fists on the desk, making Thorn flinch.
"Easy, vod," Thorns soothes and reaches out a hand to try and calm him down. "It's okay."
"No!" Fox yells with a jerk as he weakly bats Thorn's hand away. "Is not. I shot… a vod. I killed… a vod, and I can't… kriffin' remember!"
Thorn realizes he's not going to get anywhere with Fox being this drunk and worked up, so he decides to cut his losses and try again later. "Get some rest," he says before getting up from his chair. He looks down at Fox's dilapidated state, shakes his head, then turns to leave.
"Bring me… more booze," Fox demands.
Thorn turns around and scoffs. "You don't need any more of that."
Fox grabs the empty bottle and throws it towards Thorn, but it hits the wall by the door instead and shatters into a million pieces. "Shabuir," Fox snarls.
Thorn sighs. "We'll talk again when you're sober." He turns back towards the door and leaves Fox alone in his office.
Fox grumbles and lays his heavy head back down against the cool desk. He's not really angry at Thorn, as annoying as he is. No. He's angry at himself. Angry that he can't remember what his own two hands did. Angry that he can't remember where his own two feet took him. Angry that his brain won't put all of the pieces together or fill in the blanks. Where did his memory go? Did it grow legs and walk away from him? Did it leave him or did he leave it? Is that even possible?
Fox would stay laying against his desk all night if he could, but the ache in his back is beginning to overpower his drunken haze. Part of getting old, he guesses. He needs to try and make it to his couch where he can stretch out and fall asleep. At least while asleep he won't have to think about it. That was the idea behind the alcohol in the first place; drink to forget, but it didn't have the effect he was hoping for. If anything, it only made it worse. Then Thorn butted in and ruined it.
Fox tries to peel himself off of his desk, but his body is heavy. He manages to sit up, but then slumps back into his chair, whacking his head against the back of it. He groans at the pain and rubs the spot. When he opens his eyes, the room is spinning, and it makes him feel sick. Well, sicker than he already felt before he was drunk. He chuckles to himself. The good stuff was really good. He hasn't been this drunk since he was a shiny new commander hot off Kamino.
Trying again, Fox plants his hands squarely on his desk and rocks to push himself out of the chair. He tries once and can't get it. He tries twice and still can't get it. He tries thrice and finally he's on his feet, although he uses a little too much force and falls forward onto the desk. Maybe it's better if he crawls to the couch instead of walking there. He lets the weight of his lower body slide the rest of him off the desk until he's sitting on the ground and leaning against the desk.
He leans past the desk and turns his head to see where the couch is, but he leans a little too far and slumps over onto the ground. He groans. This was a terrible idea. He wishes he could get Thorn to come back and carry him to the couch, but that would bruise his ego into an irreparable state. No, he has to make it on his own. With a little wiggle of his hips, Fox rolls himself onto his stomach and crawls towards the couch. Usually, it's closer, but right now it feels klicks away.
Maker, he's tired. Why did he have to put the couch so far away from his desk? Or better yet, why can't it come to him? You'd think someone would've invented a moving couch by now, but no, the Galactic Republic is too busy making clones to do anything of real use in his lifetime. And yet, Fox continues to crawl towards his couch, cursing it every time he scoots closer. With one final push, he makes it, but accidentally bumps his head against the leg. He curses it again.
Now, it's just a matter of hoisting himself up onto the stupid thing so he can finally go to sleep. Once again, something that used to be so trivial is causing him grief. Why is it so high up? Why is the floor so far down? Why won't the room stop spinning? He wishes he could steady himself long enough to get a grip, but his body is heavy from the alcohol. However, with a little more effort and a lot more cursing, Fox grabs one of the cushions, pulls himself up, and flops onto the couch.
Thank the Maker, he finally made it. Fox rolls off of his stomach and situates himself with his back against the back of the couch so he doesn't suffocate himself within the couch cushions. Although, at this point, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea. He chuckles to himself about the thought. Thorn would kill him. He would find some way into the afterlife and kill him again for being such an idiot. Although, to him, it's a comforting thought; Thorn coming after him like that.
Even if Fox hates to admit it, Thorn is still his best friend. Some days they absolutely can't stand each other, but when push comes to shove, there's no one he'd rather have his back in this war. Perks of growing up together, he figures. Fox releases a wide yawn that makes his stomach churn, but he's happy that his body wants to rest. With a few slow breaths, he lets himself drift off to sleep, wondering if he'll wake up and finally remember or if his memory will still be adrift.
Fox groans as he stirs from his sleep. He slowly opens one eye and sees that it's still dark out, which means either he slept until the next evening or he barely slept at all. He doesn't feel drunk anymore, so maybe he did sleep for a while; an absolute miracle. Even more surprising is the fact that no one bothered him while he slept, which also means Thorn kept everyone away and covered for him. The idiot. He'll need to apologize and thank Thorn the next time he sees him.
Fox carefully shifts to sit himself up, holding the side of his head as it pounds from the hangover. He hasn't had a hangover like this in a very long time. He'll have to look at the label on the bottle and get himself another one of whatever it was. Blinking a few times to get rid of the glaze over his eyes, he looks around the room, but frowns when he sees the broken glass by the door. Oh yeah. I broke it. Guess he won't be buying another one of those anytime soon. What a shame.
With a deep breath, Fox hoists himself up off the couch and grabs the arm to steady his shaky legs. He doesn't feel woozy, but his body still feels heavy, like there are rocks in his head weighing him down. He rolls his neck, then his shoulders, and then arches his back to stretch it out. One of his vertebrae makes a popping sound and he groans. Even though he tried to lie down in a good position, couch-sleep is still not as nice as a bunk. He needs some ibuprofen.
Fox hobbles his way to the refresher connected to his office, and is, once again, thankful for the amenities he has access to as the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard. It would be embarrassing to walk down to the guard barrack's communal refresher to compose himself. Thorn would get a good laugh, though, the jerk. He'd say something stupid just to piss him off. But that's the game they play, because Fox has embarrassed Thorn on multiple occasions too.
Fox steps into the refresher without flipping the light switch on, and twists the faucet knob to run the water cold. He cups the rushing water in his hands and splashes it onto his face. The cool water feels good on his hot skin and soothes his throbbing headache. He does that a few more times, and then one last good splash that he smooths over his unruly curls. He pats his face with the towel and stares at himself in the mirror, except something about his reflection is… off.
Fox rubs the towel across his face again, thinking he has some water stuck in his eyes making his vision blurry, but the reflection still looks odd. He then uses the towel to wipe down the mirror, leaving small streaks of water where he swiped, but that doesn't clear it either. Refusing to play with it any longer, Fox opens the mirror cabinet and grabs the bottle of ibuprofen. He pops a few and swallows them dry, wincing as he feels them go down his throat, then closes the cabinet.
Hi Fox , a voice says.
Fox startles and stumbles back, crashing against the opposite wall with a loud thud. "Kriff, Thorn!" Fox exclaims. He turns his head towards the refresher door to rip Thorn a new one, but he's not there. "Thorn?" he calls, but there's no answer. He peeks his head out of the refresher to see if there's anyone in his office, but it's still dark and empty. It's just him. He's never had a hangover that made him hear things before… he thinks. Fox's heart races with adrenaline.
Fox , the voice says.
Fox flinches at the sound of his name, and whips his head around to try and figure out who's calling him, but there's still no one there. "Thorn," Fox says. "I swear to the Maker, I will kill you."
So, you like to kill, huh? the voice says.
Fox freezes, his blood running cold. He didn't just hear that, did he? The sound of another clone talking to him, but he's still alone in the refresher. His instincts are screaming for him to run and find Thorn, because clearly he's hallucinating, or sick, or dying, or all three at once. He shouldn't be hearing voices, or at least he doesn't think he should be hearing voices. Fox closes his eyes and takes a couple deep breaths to calm himself and just hopes that whatever it is will go away.
It's rude to ignore people, you know , the voice says. Especially dead people.
Yup, he's crazy. He's one hundred percent certified crazy now. Not only is he hearing voices, but he's hearing voices of the dead . What did he do while he was drunk and asleep? Conjure a demon? Summon a spirit? Invite a deity to chat over some caf? How did he even do that? The other option is that he's still plastered and is hallucinating being sober. Honestly, both ideas sound equally as insane, but do they really make any less sense than him hearing voices?
"Whatever you are," Fox begins with a nervous voice, "I'm sorry for bothering you, but I'm going back to bed now."
Fox pushes himself off the wall and walks towards the refresher door to leave, but it slides shut before he can exit. He stares at the closed door and takes another deep breath, then releases it slowly. He slides his hands over his holsters, but the blasters are missing. They must have fallen out while he was sleeping and he didn't notice. He kicks himself for being so absentminded to leave them on the couch, but in his defense there aren't many who'd attack him in his own office.
Fox runs his tongue across his teeth and puffs his chest out before turning around to face whatever it is that's messing with him, but when he does, there's no one else in the refresher besides him. He bites his lip and nods his head. It must be a dream. He's living in a dream and he can't wake up. That has to be the answer. There's no other explanation. Once he wakes up, he's going to find Thorn and make him get rid of all of his liquor, because this isn't worth the trip.
I'm still waiting , the voice says impatiently. Are you gonna answer me or not?
Fox grits his teeth and thinks for a moment. If he answers the voice of the dead, is something bad going to happen to him? It's not like his life could get any worse. He's a dog of the Republic, he's shot and killed a brother, and he's probably the most hated commander in the GAR. There's not much else they can do to him. Fox startles at a sudden realization. The voice of the dead… a dead clone. Voice of the dead… killed. Fox's heartbeat pounds ferociously in his ears.
He takes a few steps towards the sink and peers into the mirror, the same mirror where his reflection didn't look right. He was so groggy when he first came in the refresher that it didn't dawn on him what in the reflection was off, just that it didn't look right. He stares at his reflection, and tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows as he studies the image, but his eyes grow wide when he realizes that the reflection didn't follow the tilt of his head. He moves in closer.
Boo , the reflection says with a smirk.
"Kriffin' osik!" Fox screams and out of reflex he punches the mirror, cracking it. He heaves in his breaths and pulls his fist back from the mirror, his glove protecting his skin from getting cut by the broken shards.
The reflection sighs and side steps into the part of the mirror that isn't as broken. Really? the reflection asks.
Fox is on the verge of hyperventilating. Fear and adrenaline taking control of every muscle in his body. His reflection is talking to him. It's moving without him. But it's not even him. He can clearly see that now. Fox takes a moment to study the image in the mirror. The armor is white, like a shiny's, their head is shaven, they have a goatee, and an Aurebesh tattoo on their right temple not far from a small linear scar. Fox's jaw drops. It's him. It's the clone he shot and killed.
Figure it out yet? the reflection asks, almost bored.
"You're…" Fox tries to speak, but he's still unsure of what he's actually seeing.
The name's Fives , the reflection says while tapping his Aurebesh tattoo. You should remember, since you killed me.
Fox is speechless and wide-eyed. He feels sick to his stomach. He knows who Fives is, but he still doesn't remember shooting him. He's never met him, and the only images he has are of him in his ARC armor, not whatever it is he's wearing now. Fox thinks back to the recording that was attached to the report, and remembers seeing himself shoot the white-armored clone. He did find it strange at the time, and it made him wonder why, but not enough to hallucinate about him.
"This isn't real," Fox says as he backs away from the mirror. "You're not real! You're dead !"
The reflection snorts. What? No remorse? No, sorry I killed you?
"I don't remember killing you!" Fox yells, half in shock and half in self-defense. His back touches the hard durasteel wall and he slides down it until he's sitting on the floor.
Don't remember? the reflection asks. You shot me! How could you forget that?
Fox pulls his knees to his chest, clasps his hands over his ears, and squeezes his eyes shut. "Just leave me alone!" he yells again, trying to make the voice go away. "I said I don't remember!"
I'm not leaving , the voice says. Not until you remember what you did to me.
"Go away!" Fox practically screams. "Leave me alone!" His breathing becomes labored and he feels like he's going to pass out. "This is… a nightmare."
Oh, Fox , the reflection chuckles, then pushes out of the mirror and folds its arms to lean on the edge of the sink and stare down at Fox. Your nightmare has just begun.
The next rotation has Fox feeling insane. The voice inside the mirror isn't just a voice anymore. It's a full body apparition that follows him around wherever he goes. He can't even take a piss without that thing watching him. He still wonders if it's the actual Fives or if it's just a figment of his imagination; maybe the subconscious part of his brain conjured it up because of the guilt he feels for killing the clone. He wants to tell Thorn about it, but even Thorn has limits on disbelief.
Hour after hour, the apparition asks if he remembers killing it yet, and hour after hour, Fox still has the same answer – no. Maker, he wishes it would just take a hike and go haunt someone else, even if it's just for a couple of minutes. There's nothing worse than trying to work or sleep while it watches him from across the room with its dark, cold, dead eyes and smug expression. If this is the real Fives, then he doesn't understand why Rex liked him so much.
Although, today has been strangely quiet. The apparition is nowhere to be seen, or heard, and Fox is taking the much needed alone time to catch up on the reports he's been neglecting since it first appeared. It must have been a figment of his imagination brought on by stress or something along those lines. There's always a logical explanation for everything, or so he thinks. Fox looks up from his data-pad when he hears a soft knock on his office door frame.
"I brought you some caf," Thorn says with a friendly smile. "Can I come in?"
Fox nods.
Thorn walks into the office, places the cup down in front of Fox, and sits on the corner of his desk.
Fox grabs the cup of hot, black caf and deeply inhales its alluring aroma. "Is this a peace offering?"
Thorn snorts. "You should be bringing me a peace offering for all that name calling."
Fox winces at the vague memory, then takes a sip. "Sorry."
"Apology accepted," Thorn says. "You're still a di'kut, though."
"So are you," Fox smirks.
Is he a friend of yours? the apparition asks as it appears next to Fox.
Fox startles and accidentally drops the cup of caf onto his lap. "Kriff!"
Thorn also startles and jumps off the corner of Fox's desk. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Fox sighs. "Just grab me a towel, will ya?"
Thorn walks off towards the refresher to grab a towel.
He seems like a nice vod , the apparition says as it watches Thorn with interest. Is he your best friend?
Fox chooses to ignore the question and the ghost.
You know , the apparition continues. It hops up on the desk to sit in front of Fox, its legs dangling over the edge. I had a best friend once – actually two. They're both dead, now… Like me. Must be nice to have yours still alive, huh?
Fox glares at the apparition and snarls. "Don't you touch him!"
The apparition chuckles. I'm a ghost, remember? I can't even touch you. The apparition reaches out to touch Fox, but its hand goes straight through him. See? I'm not going to hurt your friend.
Fox continues to glare, not fully trusting what the apparition says. Thorn is his best friend, but this is his issue to deal with, and he's not going to drag Thorn down this insane hole of guilt and self-loathing with him. Even so, it would be great if Thorn could see the apparition too. Maybe then, he wouldn't feel so crazy about the whole situation. A little validation goes a long way in his mind. He just needs Thorn to see it once, then he can feel safe again, feel normal again.
"Fox?" Thorn asks in concern while handing him the towel. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Fox grabs the towel and pats himself and the chair dry. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Thorn isn't convinced, but doesn't argue.
I'm not fine , the apparition says. I'm dead .
Fox wants to say something in rebuttal, but Thorn's lack of comment about the elephant in the room makes him wonder. He turns his head to the apparition and then to Thorn, and then back again. "You don't see it, do you?"
"See what?" Thorn asks, a confused expression on his face.
"Nothing," Fox sighs and tosses the towel onto the desk before slumping back into his chair. "Nevermind."
"Fox," Thorn begins hesitantly. "I think you should see a medic. You've been acting strange lately and I'm worried."
Yeah, Fox , the apparition adds. You should see a medic for that missing memory issue . Maybe they can tell you why you killed me.
"I don't need a medic!" Fox exclaims. Thorn flinches and Fox bites his tongue. "Sorry. I'm just tired is all."
Thorn still isn't convinced, but he sighs and shakes his head. "Alright, I trust your judgment."
I don't , the apparition says. You shot me .
"Thanks," Fox says. His eye twitches. It's hard enough to keep his thoughts straight, but it's even harder when he has two people talking to him at once and only one of them is actually there.
"I'm here if you need me," Thorn says as he places a hand on Fox's shoulder. "Even if you just want to talk."
You can talk to me too , the apparition says.
"I appreciate that," Fox says, trying to give him his best fake smile.
Thorn throws Fox another look of concern, but turns and leaves his office all the same.
Fox immediately turns his attention to the apparition. "Can you just shut up?!"
No , the apparition says. That's the whole point of haunting. I'm supposed to be annoying.
Fox drops his head onto his desk and yells in frustration.
The apparition hops off the desk and kneels so it's face is on Fox's level. Just tell me why you killed me, Fox, it whispers. And I'll go away .
Fox clutches the sides of his head. "I'm trying," he chokes out. "But I can't remember."
It's been a week and Fox is on the verge of losing himself. He can't sleep. He can't eat. He can't do anything. The reports are piling up and questions are being asked. Thorn continues to check on him, and he appreciates it, but he wishes he'd stay away from him. Every time Thorn comes into his office, the apparition stares at him like he's a piece of meat. Fox knows the apparition can't hurt Thorn, at least, that's what he's been made to believe, but what if he's wrong?
He can't let it get Thorn, too. It can torment him all it wants, actually, it can even kill him if it wants, but he will not let anything happen to Thorn. Thorn is too good for this kind of torturous hell. Thorn hasn't killed any clones. He probably hasn't killed anyone . There's no reason for Thorn to be brought into this. It's him that the apparition wants. Its blood is on his hands, not Thorns. Thorn has nothing to do with any of this and Fox will do anything to protect him.
Hi Fox , the apparition says while leaning against the door frame of the office.
"What do you want?" Fox sneers from where he sits behind his desk.
The truth , the apparition says with a smug grin. You've been keeping it from me.
"Like I've said," Fox says. "I still don't remember."
Not good enough , the apparition says as it pushes itself off the door frame and approaches Fox's desk.
"I won't let you hurt Thorn," Fox says as he stands up.
What are you talking about? the apparition asks.
"Don't play dumb with me!" Fox exclaims. "I know you're going to hurt him to get back at me."
Are you alright, Fox? the apparition taunts. You seem a little off today.
"Get out of my head!" Fox yells as he clutches the sides of his head. "I know what you're doing!"
What's the matter? the apparition taunts. I've never seen you so unhinged before.
"Leave me alone!" Fox yells.
C'mon, Fox, the apparition walks closer. Tell me.
Fox draws one of his blasters and points it towards the ghostly figure. "Get away from me!"
Whoa, there, the apparition says, putting its hands up and taking a single step back. There's no need for that.
Fox breathes heavily. "I'm warning you!"
You won't shoot me, the apparition smirks. You have no reason to shoot me. Put the blaster down, Fox.
"I won't let you hurt him!" Fox yells, then fires a single bolt through the same spot as before, on the apparition's chest, through its heart. He watches as the apparition falls to its knees and clutches at its chest. That'll stop it. That'll shut it up. That'll make it leave him alone. That'll keep it from hurting– Thorn?
Fox pants with exasperation as his senses begin to clear. The vision of the apparition slowly dissipates, leaving behind the image of Thorn grasping at the hole in his chest. A look of pain, shock, horror, and confusion painted on his face as he looks at Fox. No. No, this can't be happening. He didn't. He couldn't. Did he shoot his best friend? It was the ghost. The ghost was right there. It was talking to him. It was taunting him. It was going to hurt Thorn.
"Fox," Thorn gasps. "Why?"
At the sound of Thorn's voice, the gravity of what Fox has done hits him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widen and his voice quivers. "Thorn."
Thorn collapses forward onto the floor and Fox rushes to his side.
"No, no, no, no," Fox rambles as he pulls his brother into his lap and applies pressure to the wound. "I need a medic!" he yells. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I… I didn't know it was you. There was a ghost and it was in my head and I couldn't remember." Tears begin to well in Fox's eyes as he tries desperately to explain.
Thorn reaches up a hand to touch Fox's cheek and Fox grabs it with his own.
"I'm… sorry," Thorn says weakly. "I… wish… I… could've… helped… you…" Thorn's hand drops as his body goes limp and he breathes his last breath.
"Where's my medic!" Fox yells, tears now streaming down his face unabated. "Hang on, vod." He pulls his brother's lifeless body close to his chest and rocks him back and forth. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me."
The apparition appears once again, crouches down in front of Fox, and looks apathetically at Thorn's lifeless body. It shakes its head. And to think all of this could've been avoided if you would've just told me what I wanted to know.
Fox looks at the apparition with murderous intent.
A vod for a vod , the apparition says with a smirk. At least you'll remember this one.
Event Masterlist
Masterlist
AO3
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Hey hey! Love your writing!
I wanted to ask for some nsfw headcannons for Wolffe, Cody, and Rex. Where their F!Jedi reader keeps force projecting different sex scenes of them together during a briefing; with the boys trying to keep it together during the briefing and their reactions/what they say to her after.
I also just wanted to say, that you are one my favorite TCW/TBB writers on Tumblr!
Distractions - NSFW Headcanons with Cody, Wolffe, and Rex
Summary: You decide to spice up a pre-mission briefing meeting by projecting naughty visions to your clone, knowing you’ll pay for it later.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Absolute filth. Smut. No real plot. Dom vibes from Wolffe and Cody, slightly rough handling but everything consensual. Fingering, oral, PiV sex. Reader a Jedi, not described in detail.
Pairings: Cody x Fem!JediReader, Wolffe x Fem!JediReader, Rex x Fem!JediReader
WC: Around 2,000 total (bullet points)
A/N: Let me tell you, the squeal I squealed when I got this ask! Thank you for this filthy request, anon! And thank you for your even kinder comment, I was having some self-doubt in my writing lately and I’m glad that you are enjoying my silly little stories, it means a lot to me and I love writing for y’all!
This is pure smutty goodness below the cut, I hope it’s what you envisioned. I had fun writing this for sure! I kinda got carried away with Rex, oops. Enjoy! 💛
✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*
💛 Cody 💛
He is a tough man to crack.
He’s always the Marshal Commander, taking his duties seriously on and off the battlefield.
You started innocently, visions of you kissing up and down his torso, slowly taking off his armor and blacks, fondling his cock, whispering how good of a girl you’ve been and that you’re ready to please your Commander in any way.
Cody didn’t even look at you, though you saw his hand twitch slightly at his side.
You smiled to yourself, projecting a more enticing scene into his mind.
This time, you were sucking his cock, his gloved hand wrapped in your hair, mumbling how amazing your lips felt around him, how much he was going to reward you later for being so good to him.
Still, nothing. Though his jaw seemed tense as he listened to Obi-Wan go over battle plans.
You knew you were playing a dangerous game, an exceedingly dangerous game, one that you will be thouroughly punished for later.
The thought shot a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, upping the ante again, needing him to crack.
The next image was of you, laying on his bunk, pleasuring yourself, two fingers deep inside your sopping pussy, your other hand pinching and tweaking your nipples writhing and moaning in pleasure, getting off completely fine without his assistance.
Since my Commander can’t be bothered to help me, I have to take matters into my own hands…
You held that teasing, lewd image in his mind, and you could almost feel the blade of his stare pierce straight through you as he finally made eye contact across the room.
It was a simple gesture that said so much, and you knew you had him.
After the meeting, you went straight to your personal quarters, knowing he wouldn’t be too far behind.
As your door hissed closed behind you, it was open again, and Cody had you pinned to a nearby wall so fast you barely had time to register what was happening.
Cody was deadly silent as he crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue clashing as his armored body pressed into your robed one.
You smirked against his lips as he pulled away for air, your lungs burning. “Cody-“
Cody growled as he flipped you around, your face pressed up agains the wall, tugging down your robes, revealing your ass to him and your glistening pussy.
He gave your ass a solid smack, his lips against your ear, heavy and commanding.
“You’re not getting away with this.”
You sighed in both pain and pleasure, hearing the clunk of his codpiece hitting the floor, his fingers gripping your ass hard as he rubbed his rigid cock at your entrance.
“Is this what you wanted?” He husked, “to be filled by your Commander? To beg for this cock? Oh, mesh’la, you’ll be begging.”
You let out a whine as he teased your dripping entrance with his cockhead, already thinking you maybe took it a little too far with your visions, knowing he was a man true to his word.
It was too late now.
“Cody, please, I need-“
Smack! Another slap to your ass, his other hand wandering between your folds.
“Only good, obedient girls get this cock. After that stunt in the comm room, you have a lot to make up for.“
He swiped a finger over your clit, causing you to cry out, your body twitching, unable to move much between the wall and his solid form behind you.
He roughly rubbed your clit, pushing two fingers into your entrance, immediately finding the spongy spot that made you see stars.
“You’re soaking, mesh’la, so needy for me.”
You could feel your release coming quickly, choking out his name as his other hand groped at your breast.
Cody knew you were close, feeling you tighten around him, your high pitched moans giving you away.
Cody removed his fingers right as you were about to reach your peak.
You whimpered, trying to lean back against him, desperate for your release, for anything.
Cody spun you around again, pressing his gloved fingers soaked with your juice to your lips.
“If you’re good, I’ll let you cum. You haven’t proved yourself to me, though. Now be a good girl, and clean me up.”
You licked his gloved fingers clean, tasting yourself and giving him a little show of what you could do with your tongue, if you let him.
Cody’s eyes darkened, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a line of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.
“On your knees, mesh’la. Like I said, you have a lot to make up for.”
🖤 Wolffe 🖤
The image you projected was absolutely filthy.
Your hands were pinned behind your back by his large hand, the other pressing between your shoulder blades keeping you down on the bed as he pounded into you from behind.
You were shamelessly moaning his name like a dirty Holofilm star, crying out for him to go harder, faster.
You stood at attention, casually glancing at him, noticing a bead of sweat forming at Wolffe’s temple.
You could sense he was trying his best not to leap over the holomap and ravage you in front of everyone.
You decided he had enough of the first fantasy, briefly closed your eyes, projecting another scene into his mind.
You were on your knees in front of him, your mouth open as he shoots ropes of cum all over your face, greedily lapping it up, kissing up and down his still-hard cock, begging for more.
Wolffe’s eyes flashed at you, his cybernetic eye and scar making him look more dangerous than usual, his eyes narrowing.
Got him.
You were enjoying watching him keep it together, a vein bulging at his forehead, his neck tense as he stood at attention, listening to Master Koon’s hologram.
You knew you were in for it after the meeting.
That was the entire point.
Wolffe was practically kicking down the door to your personal quarters after the meeting, pinning you to your bed, his mouth ravaging yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck, hard.
He had your wrists held above your head with one hand, his grip like iron.
There was no escape.
“What was that?” He growled as he continued the assault on your neck, his hand tightening even more around your wrists that were wiggling to get free.
You whined as his hand that was digging into your waist moved under your robes, up toward your breasts.
“Answer me, mesh’la. Or you won’t get what you so obviously want.”
His gloved touch left a trail of fire on your skin, sending goosebumps across your body and a jolt of arousal straight to your pussy, your panties wet at the anticipation.
“You looked bored during the meeting.” You smirked at up at him, breathy pants leaving you as he touched you. “Thought you could use some entertainment.”
Wolffe’s gaze darkened at your teasing tone, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
Without warning, he ripped open the front of your robes, yanking down your breast band.
You yelped as he attacked your breasts with this lips and teeth, leaving more marks for him to gently kiss over later when he was through with you.
“Do you want my cum, mesh’la? Is that what you want?” Wolffe grunted against your flushed skin as he switched to your other breast.
You gasped a yes, his teeth expertly nipping and tugging at your sensitive bud.
You writhed, your wrists still restrained above your head by his strong hand.
“I’ll fill your mouth to the brim, and you’ll swallow every drop, isn’t that right you filthy girl?”
You nodded, almost delirious just at his mouth on your nipples. He hadn’t even really started touching you yet.
“And then I’ll fill that pretty pussy of yours, but only if you behave. Will you behave for me?”
“Y-yes!” Your voice cracked, needing him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name. 
“Yes…?” He stopped, his predatory gaze locking on you.
“Yes…Commander.”
“Good girl.”
Wolffe continued ravaging your breasts, your mewls filling the room.
“Please, I want your cock inside me, I want you to cum so deep inside me, Wolf-Commander. I’ll be good, I promise…”
Wolffe released your wrists, your hands finally free.
“You haven’t been good though, you knew that the second you invaded my mind with those visions.”
Wolffe sat up, and began removing his armor. You forgot it was even still on.
“I’ll make sure you’re properly punished for such distractions, and then I’ll decide when you’re ready for my cock.”
You shivered at his promise as he climbed over you, just in his blacks, the outline of his rigid cock straining against the fabric.
“I dunno, Commander. You seem to be all bark and no bite.” You teased, knowing you were getting yourself into even more trouble.
A dark chuckle reverberated in his chest, ripping your pants and panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.
Wolffe grasped your thighs, biting down into the soft flesh of your inner leg, earning a loud yelp from you as his tongue eased the first of many marks he will leave on your body.
“Be careful what you wish for, mesh’la.”
💙 Rex 💙
You had him sweating and fidgeting as Rex tried to keep a straight face in the briefing room.
Rex was attempting to listen to the mission report, but your vision in his mind was proving to be quite the distraction.
You were on his face, his hands grasping your thighs as he feasted on your pussy from below.
“Rex, oh kriff, more, please, I need your big cock, I want you to ruin me.”
Rex gave you a desperate look from across the room, slightly shaking his head.
You ignored his pleading glance, changing the vision.
Now, you were splayed out on his desk in his private Captain’s quarters, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you, your back arching as you rubbed your clit, cumming over and over again around him.
His desk was dripping with your juices, your breasts bouncing almost comically as you cried out his name, hamming up the vision to see Rex squirm.
Rex suddenly coughed, everyone in the room looking at him momentarily.
You rocked on your heels, hands behind your back, pretending to listen as the pre-mission brief continued, completely innocent.
Finally, the meeting ended.
You exited the room, Rex quickly walking past you.
“My office. Now.” He hissed quietly, before being called over by Anakin to discuss further plans.
When Rex opened the door to his office, you were sitting at his desk, waiting for him.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, General.” Rex strode up to you, placing his hands on his desk, leaning over toward you.
You loved it when he used his serious Captain voice on you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”
“You know.” His voice dropped an octave, husky and gruff, just how you liked it.
“You’ll have to elaborate. I can’t read minds.”
Rex stood up straight, his expression unreadable. You continued to sit in his chair as he walked around the desk and over to you.
Rex leaned down again, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, caging you in.
For a moment, you thought he was actually upset with you. You felt guilty, maybe you did take it too far in the meeting.
You opened your mouth to apologize, but Rex spoke first.
“I think you can, mesh’la. How else would you know those visions are what I think about doing to you every waking moment?”
His lips were hovering centimeters from yours, a quiet gasp leaving your lips, your body quivering at his statement.
Oh, he liked it.
His breath fanned over your face, feeling your panties dampen, his usual soft eyes glazed over with lust.
You leaned forward to close the small distance, wanting to taste him, but he pulled away, avoiding your kiss.
“Mmm, mesh’la. You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” Rex purred in your ear, his gloved hand snaking up your neck, tilting your head to the side.
He placed a hot kiss right below your ear, lazily licking your neck.
“Rex…” you sighed, grasping at his shoulder pads, his teeth grazing your skin, his lips pressing to the side of your jaw.
“You want something from me?” He removed himself from you, kneeling between your legs.
“I’m not sure if you deserve it. I could write you up for what you did back there.”
Rex hooked his fingers under your pants, pulling them down your legs. You lifted your ass, helping him remove your lower clothes.
“Yeah? What would the report say?” You shuddered as Rex began lavishing your bare thighs, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling as he slowly made his way up to your aching apex.
You could feel Rex smirk against your skin.
“My General coercing me into questionable situations. Inappropriate use of Jedi abilities.”
Rex stopped right at your core, aching and throbbing for him. You could feel his breath on your pussy, desperate now for any friction.
You let out a frustrated whine as Rex kissed your inner thigh, ignoring where you needed him most.
“Rex…”
“Patience, mesh’la. You need a lesson in discipline, it seems.”
Rex brushed his nose against your clit, your hips instinctually bucking up toward him, your hands grasping at his buzzed hair.
You groaned impatiently as he gently kissed your labia, touching you everywhere but your clit.
“You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” He rumbled into your core, a finger now teasing your entrance.
You panted, knowing you asked for this, that you deserved this, but you could still protest to his teasing.
“Captain, please…” You begged, shifting your hips, hoping he would press his finger knuckle deep inside you.
Rex continued to just tease your entrance with his finger tip, slowly circling, not quite pressing all the way inside.
“Kriff, you’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? Do you want to cum over and over again on my cock?”
You nodded, heavy pants the only sound able to leave your lips as he finally pressed his finger inside.
“Use your words, is that what you want?”
Rex’s lips were brushing over your clit, the teasing almost too much.
“Y-yes! Please, Rex, I need you inside me!” Your words came out as a garbled cry as he suddenly sucked on your clit, adding a second finger to your pussy, stretching you so deliciously you thought you might cry, pleasure shooting up your spine.
And his cock wasn’t even inside you yet.
“You’ll get my cock, mesh’la, don’t worry. But first, I want you to cum just like this.” Rex added a third finger, his tongue and lips circling your clit, your vision white from the pleasure as you squirmed and writhed in his chair, totally at his mercy, your orgasm building quickly.
You came apart on his fingers, shaking and sobbing his name, pleasure coursing through you as Rex’s fingers and mouth worked you through your first orgasm.
“You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Rex’s pupils were blown with desire, licking his lips as he cleaned you up, his baritone voice was laden with desire, his control now gone.
You barely had time to come down from you high as Rex easily lifted you onto his desk, removing his codpiece in a flash, pulling down his blacks far enough for his flushed, dripping cock to spring free.
“And you’re going to cum again, and again, and again. Are you ready, mesh’la? This is what you asked for.”
Your answer was a cry of his name, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed into you, starting a devastating pace, fucking you exactly like you showed him in your vision.
Your last coherent thought before being so thoroughly fucked and blissed out by your Captain was that you should definitely tease him like this more often.
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#commander Cody x reader#commander Wolffe x reader#captain rex x reader#commander Cody#commander Wolffe#captain rex#the clone wars#the clone wars x reader#the clone wars smut#x reader#reader insert#tcw fanfiction#the clone wars headcanons#Cody x you#Wolffe x you#Rex x you#clone x reader#commander Cody x jedi#commander Wolffe x jedi#captain rex x jedi#jedi!reader#Rex tcw#Cody tcw#Wolffe tcw#starrycatwrites
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I'm using my recent TBB osession to draw my clone ocs for the first time in forever again (Since I haven't named them yet: These are Kick, Boxer and Isle - finally cleaned up)
I have been reading some clone x reader fanfics (share some with me pls I love them gsjvkfgsf) and lets say ... I have been noticing a pattern in regard of the ... bathrooms in Clone Bar 79 ...
#star wars the clone wars#the clone wars#tech x reader#crosshair x reader#rex x reader#captain rex x reader#echo x reader#fives x reader#star wars celebration#tcw#tbb#tbb x reader#clone wars#star wars#clone wars fanfiction#clone wars fanfic#clone wars fic#tcw fanfiction#tcw fanfic#tcw fic
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Introduce Your OCs!
I wanna try to do something fun like this each Sunday (creativity permitting) and have been working on a one-shot, chatting, and watching the superbowl today so I didn't get it out earlier. BUT, if you like, I'd love to hear any or all of the following for your OCs! And feel free to link any fic they appear in!
If they were a SHOE, what kind of SHOE would they be?
What nature/scenery/setting most encapsulates who they are?
What's one thing you'd notice about them immediately and one thing you would only notice after a lot of time and depth?
Thanks for sharing (even after Sunday, haha!)
#the bad batch#tbb#star wars fanart#the bad batch fanart#tbb fanart#bad batch#star wars fanfiction#fanart#bad batch fanart#the bad batch fanfiction#the clone wars#clone OC#OC#clone trooper OCs#OC sunday#clone trooper oc#tcw#tcw fanfic#tcw fanfiction
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address the letters: “to the holes in my butterfly wings”
pairing: Kix and GN padawan reader (platonic)
Word count, guys it’s basically 10 K 💀bc apparently I am in capable of writing anything short.
tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of blood and injury, medical procedures
summary:
In which, the CMO of Torrent Company discovers that you, a Padawan under his care have been hiding injuries and skipping medical checks, and now must take care of you as you suffer the consequences of your actions.
Also known as
Why you should never hide an injury from Kix. he will find out, and he will drag you off to the medbay so that he can take care of whatever mess you’ve made of yourself, scolding you all the wile.
“Look what I found on my bunk.”
You’re interrupted from eating your sandwich in the Cantina when Fives plops down beside you at the table, setting down a tray of food and waving a pink slip of paper in your face.
You’re about to tell him that “Can’t you see that you’re eating and get this paper out of my face,” when your eyes catch on three words written in bold text across the top of the page.
Mandatory vaccination updates.
The sandwich, that up until this point has been the absolute centre of your attention, listen, you’re fighting a war and you have to appreciate any opportunity that you get to eat food that isn’t bland ration bars, drops out of your suddenly limp hand as you snatch up the paper, now very interested in the contents.
“When did you get this?” you ask slowly, you’re voice distracted, beginning to chew on your lower lip, already feeling the nervous coil in your stomach.
“When I came back to my bunk after the debriefing we had this afternoon. Apparently everyone got one. I bet you 10 credits that your master is going to pretend that he didn’t see it, and try and avoid it until Kix has to tear apart the ship looking for him and drag him to the medbay.” Fives chuckles.
Master Skywalker’s reputation for trying to avoid the medbay at all costs is widely known throughout Torrent Company..
“Kix is going to have a field day. I’ll give it to general Skywalker, he has some creative hiding places,” he continues, eyes lighting up at the memory of Anakin, half hazardously crammed into a supply closet, folded in an impressive, yet uncomfortable looking position as he forced his unwitting tall limbs to fit in the cramped space.
Unfortunately for Kix, your masters habit of avoiding the medbay whenever possible has rubbed off on you, though, you don’t think it’s for the same reason. Your avoidance stems from a place of fear, and, okay, a stubborn insistence that you can take care of yourself, which yes, definitely like master, like apprentice.
But that also stems from a fear. You’re determined to prove yourself, especially being a young Padawan working with those who are much more experienced than you. You don’t want to risk being taken off the field because of some stupid injury, and letting those who rely on you down, especially your master, who’s always bouncing back and getting up and ready to take on whatever is next regardless of what kind of peril he’s just come out of. You want, you need, to prove that just because you’re a Padawan, you’re not a liability, but an asset. You can be strong and resilient like master Skywalker.
So, you avoid. You dodge and you ignore and you pretend not to notice when the routine medical check dates come and go without your attendance. You know it’s only a matter of time before Kix gets on your ass about it. You’re surprised that you’ve kept it up this long. But, this only bolsters your confidence in being able to avoid another successfully.
“I’ll be right back,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant, setting the paper back down on the table before you run off into the crowd.
*
Sure enough, there is an identical slip of paper that’s been placed on your bunk. But conveniently, Jedi master Aayla Secura is going on a diplomatic mission to amid rim planet in a last ditch effort to try and convince them not to secede from the republic during the date that’s listed on the page when you’re scheduled for your vaccinations.
Earlier this morning, master Skywalker had asked if you had wanted to join this mission, saying that it would give you a break from being on the frontlines, and it would be easy enough to arrange, as master Secura would rendezvous with the 501st before she departed.
This morning, you had turned him down, listing several reasons as to why you needed to stay with the 501st. Your troops needed you, diplomatic missions were boring anyways, and you didn’t think that you would be of much help to the experienced and capable master Secura, who was a formidable diplomat in her own right. You didn’t think you would be able to add anything of particular value to the conversation, at least nothing that master Secura wouldn’t be able to say much more eloquently and better.
Now though, the only thing that’s running through your mind is the fear of needles and the dread of going into the medbay and that’s enough to make you reconsider everything you had said.
When you tell master Skywalker that you’ve changed your mind, and would actually like to accompany Aayla on her mission, he’s slightly confused considering you had been so adamant that you were needed here only just a few hours ago.
But, he knows that as a Jedi, you need diplomatic experience. Experience that, before the war, would be very easy for Padawan’s to come by. He knows that you don’t have nearly as much as you should.
These are unprecedented times, though, and Padawan’s being trained during an active war is not ideal. He wants for you to be well-rounded. He has hope that your future won’t always involve war at the centre of it, and any opportunity that you get to learn how to be a keeper of peace should always be encouraged, especially during these times.
So he gives in pretty easily, and when master Secura arrives, you happily join her. When the ramp of the ship seals behind you and you’re sitting with her in the cockpit, the warm relief that flows through your bones is palpable.
“Success,” you think to yourself triumphantly.
*
Your triumph, however glorious it might have felt in the moment, is short-lived.
In spite of the fact that some old injuries, that you honestly thought you had done a pretty good job at taking care of yourself, were starting to aggravate you again, the unexpected joy and relief that weaved itself through the force, openly shared between you and master Secura, surrounded you like a warm blanket, protecting you from feeling the things that hurt you.
The planet you had just visited had agreed to stay with the republic, after a tense three days of debate between its political factions. The victory Was a surprise, considering how vehemently the opposition pushed to secede, but it was not unwelcome.
Aayla’s T-6 shuttle docks in the hanger bay of the much larger 501st transport. As you wait for the doors to open and the ramp to fold down before you, you’re still riding on that high, feeling, for the first time in a long time, the thrill of a success. One that you are unable to feel on the frontlines, because even when your battles result in a victory, you are surrounded by so much death and violence that in the end, you don’t really feel like celebrating.
You’ll never admit it to your master, but privately, you think to yourself that maybe diplomatic missions aren’t as boring as you thought they were. You were able to help resolve a conflict, peacefully, without even having to brush your fingers against the hilt of your lightsaber, which, nowadays, is becoming more and more of a rare occurrence. But it’s what Jedi do, or at least, what they’re supposed to do, so you have to embrace the gratitude of the experience you just had, and try and take it with you going forward.
Your thoughts are preoccupied with these ideas swirling around your head, so you don’t see him until you’re stepping out onto the ramp of the T-6, descending into the hectic and busy as usual crowds of the hanger bay.
When you do, though, you stop dead, and your heart begins to race.
Shit.
Directly in front of you, at the bottom of the ramp, stands Kix.
One look at his expression, and your stomach flips.
His lips are set in a thin, unreadable line, his brow creased as he observes you with pinpoint focus. Stern, brown eyes observe your every movement. There’s no question that the second you step off the ramp, he’s going to pounce on you like a cat seizing a mouse.
He stands at attention, body forced into an unbending straight line, such positions you mostly see on the shiny’s, new troopers who are freshly trained during their first days out on the field. His hands are placed on his hips, the position that he assumes before he’s about to give someone, it’s usually your master who you’ve seen it directed at, the lecture of their life.
“Keep moving,” your brain supplies. “Act nonchalant, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be fine.”
You feel your feet hit solid ground, and your speed picks up, all along, your brain is screaming at you to move. It’s weird how now that he’s standing in front of you, every injury you’ve accumulated over the past weeks is beginning to hit you, all comfort and protection that the force has been giving you to keep you going rapidly vanishing with each step you take.
The uncomfortable angle that your shoulder is sitting at, the pulling of stitches in your leg as you increase your speed. It throbs and aches with sudden abandon. But your fists clench, and you do your best not to falter under Kix’s unwavering scrutiny, just knowing that he’s looking for any flicker of weakness, any sign of pain that registers on your face.
“Just keep going, and maybe, you’ll be able to slip past...”
He steps in front of you, reaching an arm out to easily intercept your path. He says your name, in a tone that breaches absolutely no room for trying to ignore it.
You jump, startled in spite of yourself. He’s effectively got you cornered, and seeing that there’s no way out of this, Your nerves begin to skyrocket, raising like the sound of alarm bells in your head. You look up, eyes meeting his unwaveringly stern expression, And suddenly, you wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.
He looks down at you, and he must see something in your disposition that belies your true feelings, because though his face remains set, his eyes somewhat soften, and when he next speaks, his voice is quiet but firm.
“Come with me, please. I need to see you in the medbay.” Though he’s phrased it as a request, you know that it is an order, and one that you must follow.
As a medic for the GAR, and this is something that you’ve heard him say to many a complaining troopers being escorted to the medbay when they don’t want to go, it is well within his rights to exercise such authority and make these orders. Because when it comes to the health and safety of every 501st personnel, whether you’re a Jedi general, commander, or Padawan, Kix immediately outranks you.
You look down at the floor, suddenly finding the marks that are speckled across it very interesting, and mumble a defeated and quiet “Yes sir.”
When he turns, and you hesitate to follow, he lets out a gentle sigh, moving to place a hand on the small of your back. His voice is low, but reassuring as he ushers you forward.
“Come on, kid, you’re okay,” he breathes, and in spite of the fact that you’re still thinking that jumping out of an airlock would be better than this, your feet, still unwilling, but the slightest bit reassured, begin to move.
*
Coric giving you a subtle pitying glance as he’s reading over a patient’s chart when Kix escorts you into the medbay makes you want to vomit.
Between the two medics, Kix has the reputation of being a hardass because he’s the CMO. Make no mistake, you do not want to get on either of their bad sides. But, given the choice between the two right now, you think you’re more equipped to handle Coric, who can usually be counted on to soften the blow a bit, with enough pleading glances and apologies.
Your eyes flit to the door that you’ve just passed through, because stupidly, your brain is still trying to make the calculations that if you can just duck out of Kix’s grasp for two seconds, you’d be able to make a run for it.
Unbeknownst to you, however, both medics have been carefully observing your every movement since you’ve entered. Coric, remaining completely calm and at ease, rises to his feet, moving swiftly to stand in the doorway in several long strides. He casually leans against the frame, arms folded.
“Don’t even think about it, baby Jedi. Your master has attempted the same thing you are considering, and he has always failed,” he says, keeping his voice light and non-threatening, making it clear that you need to give up on your fantasy of bolting out of here, but also not trying to scare you off..
You’re just beginning to wonder how the kriff they were able to read you so easily, with one covert glance determining that you were about to bolt when Kix removes his hand from the small of your back, instead, fingers coming to gently grip your shoulder.
The change in his hold is obvious. He is fully prepared for if you try to run. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, in what you interpret as a warning not to.
Unfortunately, he’s just touched on an injury, you’re not entirely sure what you did, but you messed up your shoulder the last time you were on the field, and even the slight pressure elicits a sharp intake of breath that you’re unable to stop from escaping your lips, and that immediately has the attention of both medics laser focussed on you.
Kix’s anticipation evaporates and quickly melts into concern. Carefully, so carefully, he turns you to face him, keen eyes sharp as they analyze your face.
“Hey,” he calls softly, waiting for you to look at him. “Tell me where it hurts,” he says, so gently that it makes your eyes burn with shame. You look down at your feet.
“That’s uh... that’s, a loaded question,” you admit sheepishly, trying to keep your tone light and joking, in spite of the fact that now that you’re thinking about it, the list of injuries you’ve sustained without reporting to the medbay is a lengthy one, and might make Kix have a stroke.
Kix lets out a controlled, slow breath, eyes momentarily finding the ceiling as he silently begs the stars to give him strength.
“Kaysh Mirsh solus,” he mutters to himself.
You’ve heard Kix toss that phrase around the medbay on multiple occasions, and though you’re uncertain of what it actually means, he usually brings it out when one of his brothers has done something that he would consider incredibly stupid, which is often.
Coric makes a noise of agreement. “It appears that our stupidly self-sacrificing general has passed on his stupid self sacrificing behaviour onto his apprentice,” he groans. “Will we ever know a day of peace?”
Kix looks back down at you, his expression calm and restrained. “Come on, then, let’s see what we’re dealing with here,” moving his hand to your uninjured shoulder, he steers you both further into the medbay.
*
Your eyes don’t leave the ground, but you can hear the sound of a privacy curtain being pulled shut around the cubicle that Kix has brought you to.
When an eerily familiar pink slip of paper is being held up in front of your downcast eyes, you cringe, Arms wrapping around yourself in defence
You can’t even pretend that you haven’t seen it before, because the words mandatory vaccination updates have been circling around your brain the whole time you were out on your last mission.
“Do you know why the GAR enforces these?” Kix begins, and his voice is too measured and calm.
You lift a brow, questioning. Does he seriously expect you to answer this? Isn’t the answer obvious?
“Uh... so that we don’t get sick?” You answer, uncertain as to what he’s getting at.
He nods, his face displaying a slight flicker of approval. “Yes, that is one reason as to why, and it’s an acceptable one,” he acknowledges. His frown deepens as he continues. “However, one must look at the much larger picture, at every personnel aboard this ship. The most important reason why mandatory vaccinations are enforced is so that we can avoid many people getting sick and spreading illness to the rest of the crew, so that we may remain fully functional and operational, continuing to serve and protect the people of the republic.”
You squirm beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. You’re starting to see where he’s going with this, and it’s incredibly discomforting.
“I would’ve thought, that as a Jedi, you would be able to more easily see this bigger picture than most others,” he observes mildly. “After all, I know, and I’m sure everyone who spends a considerable amount of time with you can see that there is so much compassion and care for others within your very nature.”
His voice is so genuine, laced with such real kindness in his tone that it makes your eyes sting. Your heart constricts, because he’s just pointed out something that you hadn’t even considered in your selfish haste to avoid this.
By avoiding your vaccinations, you have put every member of the 501st who works with you in danger.
Your arms wrap tighter around yourself, and you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but at the pristine white floor beneath your feet.
Kix senses that he’s hit a mark, and his voice gentles considerably. “I also understand that you are young, and still learning to see the bigger picture and how your actions can affect those around you.”
“I, I didn’t, I was scared and I just I didn’t think about...” your voice trembles as you try to answer, tumbling out in a rush of words that race as quickly as your heart.
“I understand, and it is perfectly reasonable for you to feel that way,” he keeps his voice level and measured. “However,” he continues, and you know what he’s about to say even before he says it. “We still have to face the things that scare us. If you had simply told me how you were feeling, we would have figured out a way to navigate it.” His face is reassuring when you dare to glance up from the floor that you’ve been resolutely staring at for this whole conversation.
“We still will figure out the best way to proceed. However, these vaccination updates are very low on my priority list of concerns when it comes to you, compared to this,” and he holds up a datapad, displaying medical records with your name typed neatly across the top.
The last several appointment entries are highlighted in red, indicating that you did not attend any of them.
“Do I need to remind you that these appointments are not optional. Any member of Torrent Company who goes out on the field must report to the medbay upon return for examination, as well as attend our regular medical checks to ensure that you are fit for active duty.” It’s clear from the tone of his voice that this is a lecture that he is very practised in delivering.
You lift your head, finally looking directly at him. He’s already made you admit a fear that you desperately wanted to keep to yourself. You try and summon what remains of your dignity.
“What do you want me to say, Kix?” There’s a hint of defiance in your voice.
“Do you want me to admit that I avoided these because I had injuries that I didn’t want you to know about? Because yes, the truth is that I did.” Your eyes level with his as you try to make him understand.
“I was scared of the medical procedures, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” You snap, not particularly annoyed with him, but more annoyed at the fact that your answers sound so stupid out loud.
“But I was more scared of the fact that you were probably going to take me off the field, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t let that happen. My master was relying on me. Everyone was relying on me, and I couldn’t let them down.” You try to shrug off his concern with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Besides, I’ve been doing fine,” you say evasively.
Kix does not rise to the bate of your seeming anger. He’s much too practised and controlled to let it affect him. He also has the uncanny ability to look at someone, and see everything, read through their feelings, whether they’ve been acknowledged or not, and understand them. So, even though you’re trying to push him away, with what at first glance appears to be frustration, underneath it all, he can tell that it’s just as plainly fear.
He meets your storm filled eyes unflinchingly, levelling you with a look that is equal parts stern and unwavering, and equal parts concerned and filled with compassion. It makes your insides twist with guilt, and you want to look away, but you can’t bring yourself to as he speaks, his voice calm but steely.
“Are you fine?” he asks, an eyebrow raising as he tilts his head to look at you, his gaze clinical, assessing, even as you just stand there in front of him.
. “I already know that there’s something wrong with your shoulder. But aside from that, I’ve been observing you since you got off your transport. The way you move is slow and careful, not at all like the usual way you dash around the ship. Even now, you’re hesitating to put much weight on your right leg.” He ticks off the things he’s noticed on his fingers like a list.
“Apart from the fact that skipping these mandatory appointments have consequences. If you had kept this up, I would’ve had to bring this to our superiors, that includes the Jedi council,” he gives you a pointed look, even the mention of the high Council makes you shiver. in your experience, whenever you and your master have been summoned to speak with the council, it’s always to be reprimanded, and never good.
. “You could have been Court-martialed,” he says, knowing that his words will hit the severity of the situation home.
You falter, stepping back as you feel your eyes go wide. “Court-martialed?” you breathe, feeling the blood draining from your face.
He gently takes your arm, guiding you to sit on a bed as he continues, voice softening. “It is very clear that you are hiding injuries, and though I can understand why, in premise, You did this, the reality is that this will begin to affect your performance in battle. It will not just affect you. You will put yourself, as well as the entirety of the people you are leading, in danger. People could get hurt. You could get hurt. Because you would be putting not just yourself, but others, in unnecessary danger, your ability to be in the position of a commander could be called into serious question by your superiors, and for good reason”
As much as he keeps his voice low and calm, you can sense that he’s disappointed in the way that you’ve handled yourself. Your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, forcing the tears that prick at the back of your eyes to not fall. You hate disappointing people, and the fact that you’ve managed to disappoint Kix, one of the kindest people you know, makes you want to curl up into a ball and never show your face in public again.
“And that, the safety of yourself, and everyone aboard this ship, is my priority. It is much more important to me than having to report to any superior. The fact that you hold your safety, and by extension, the safety of those around you, with such blatant disregard, is what concerns me the most, and that is what I need you to understand.”
There’s a certain gravity in his voice that you’ve never heard before, but it slams into your chest and hits you like a ton of bricks. The implications of what you’ve been doing, of what could have happened to those around you, to his brothers, because of your inability to face your fears begin to swirl around your head with a rapidity that makes your heart race.
These thoughts come unbidden, and too fast for you to process. The tears, that you’ve been so desperately trying to push back, spring free and begin to fall down your cheeks, unprompted, slowly, and silently. You don’t have time to stop them from coming.
Kix knows that he’s been very direct, and very blunt with you, deciding that this would be the only way to get through to you. He hates having to do it, though. Kix considers himself to be a fairly good judge of character, and he knows that you have such a caring, gentle heart and strong presence wherever you go. So, watching you break in front of him like this pains him.
Your breath hitches in an unsteady gasp as you look up at him, tears blurring your vision.
“I’m sorry, Ori’vod,” your lip trembles as your voice breaks, wanting to curl in on yourself. “Ni ceta,” you get out in barely a choked whisper.
But he hears you, and it breaks him.
You’ve never referred to him as ori’vod before, and the idea that you consider him as such, as a big brother, awakens his protective, instinctive nature to gather you close and keep you safe from harm.
His Vod, mostly his batchmate, Jesse, calls it his mother hen instincts.
He can’t help it, though. Your voice, sounding so much smaller than he’s ever heard it, trembling and filled with tears, has broken what’s left of his resolve, and gently, very gently, mindful of the fact that you’re injured, he takes you into his arms, holding you close to him. Your head buries against his shoulder, and he easily cradles you there, feeling every sharp intake of breath as you cry.
“Oh, adika, shh,” he soothes, hand coming up to gently stroke your hair as he continues to speak softly to you. “You’re okay, I promise, everything is going to be alright. I’ve got you, we are going to sort this out.”
*
“Well,” he says, reading over the results of the medical scan he’s just performed. Would you believe me if I told you that a dislocated shoulder is the least of your concerns?”
Your eyes find the ceiling, and you exhale a slow breath before asking, “how bad?”
He keeps his voice neutral as he relays the results of the scan to you. “According to your last medical check, you were diagnosed with Iron deficiency anemia, not incredibly uncommon, what with our limited access to rations and food with the proper nutrients,” his brow creases as he continues. “However, preliminary scans indicate that your haemoglobin levels haven’t much improved.”
He gives you a look.“You have been taking the supplement you were prescribed?” he asks, in a way that makes you suspicious that he already knows that the answer is no.
You avoid looking at him. “I was, but they kept making my stomach feel queasy all day, so I stopped.”
Kix Lets out a long suffering sigh. “An issue that we easily could have rectified by changing your treatment plan if you had just let us know,” he scolds. “Nonetheless, I’d like to do a blood test to get exact confirmation of those levels and see how bad the numbers are so that we can Start getting them back up to baseline.”
Your stomach does a flip and you cringe silently at the mention of a blood test.
Kix continues, consulting the scan results that are displayed on a datapad. “You’ve got untreated burns on your fingers.” He raises a curious eyebrow at you and your cheeks flush.
“They weren’t entirely untreated, I put them under running water,” you try to argue. The unimpressed look he gives you stops you dead in your tracks.
“It wasn’t entirely my fault,” you defend. “I was fixing one of the starfighters that got hit during our last airstrike. I got R2 to help me with the repairs but he wasn’t listening to my instructions. He crossed two of the wrong wires and caused the circuitboard to spark.”
“And that is why you should never ask R2 for help,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Those burns weren’t given time to heal, and the fact that you’re constantly wielding a lightsaber has exacerbated them. I will apply a burn ointment to them that should take away the pain and speed the process of healing.”
He fixes you with a look.
“The most concerning thing is The blaster wound on the front of your right calf. Really, vod, you should know that injuries being treated and stitched up on the field, especially when not done by a medic, always should be looked over by a medic as soon as possible, due to the unsanitary environment that they were performed in.”
“Tup did his best to stitch it,” you say, feeling the need to defend the brother who, in spite of the fact that he was not a medic, sutured you up as you took cover from separatist battle droids.
“I don’t doubt that he did. I was the instructor who took every single one of the troopers on this ship through their mandatory medical courses, and I did not let them pass without proving that they were adequately able to handle emergency first aid on the field. However, it still remains that you’ve picked up an infection, and to treat it, the sutures will have to be removed, the wound reopened, and extraction of the infected tissue, as well as a course of both IV and oral antibiotics to clear up anything that remains.”
You stare at him, your eyes growing wide with horror as he explains. “How?” You ask, alarmed.
He senses your nerves and leans forward, taking your hand and running his thumb along the back of it reassuringly. “This is a surgical procedure, performed under general anesthesia.”
You flinch at his words, and your fingers tighten around his with anxiety, needing something to hold onto.
“I know that sounds scary, especially if you’ve never been put under before. But I promise, this is a fairly common operation. Me and Coric will both be here making sure that you’re okay the whole time.” he continues to stroke his thumb along the backs of your knuckles.
“Let’s take this one step at a time, though. We’ll take care of the things that are manageable, first,” he says, giving you an encouraging smile.
*
“Hey uh...” you say nervously, watching with anxiety fluttering in your stomach as Kix ties a band just above your elbow, prepping you for the blood draw. The way the band tightens, restricts and squeezes around your arm Makes you feel trapped. You hate it.
“I have... I’ve had, issues in the past when it comes to these,” you say awkwardly, not knowing how to explain.
Kix only looks up at you, raising a perceptive brow. “Are you referring to your predisposition of fainting whenever a blood draw is performed?” he asks, completely unfazed.
It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows in questioning. “Don’t worry, Coric already has this listed in your file. I’m going to get you to lie down when we do it.”
He has the sensitivity and grace not to mention the fact that he also knows this because he walked into the medbay to find Coric absolutely tearing into a junior medic for letting you leave too soon after you had gotten a blood draw, resulting in you crumpling to the floor in a faint right outside of the medbay doors.
At your continued staring, he adds, his voice softening. “It’s a normal reaction, that likely is exacerbated because of your low haemoglobin levels. There’s nothing wrong with you, Vod’ika.” he reassures, gently guiding you to lay down on the bed. “Now, just lay down for me, and we’ll get this over with quickly, and if you faint, you faint. It happens, no big deal, I’ll be right here regardless.”
And because you’re you, you do faint.
The needle itself is always not as bad as you anticipate it being. The Sting, though prominent, is small and quick and over before you have time to fixate on it.
It’s only when he’s pressing a cotton swab into the crook of your arm, encouraging you to keep it in place while he puts a Band-Aid over top, that you register the familiar feeling of drowsiness, vision blurring and ears beginning to ring, that always comes before you pass out.
You think that you might give him some indication, some warning, because he’s removing your hand from where it’s been pressing against the cotton round, replacing it with his own, much more steady one. Everything around you is muffled, and it’s jarring, but in a way that is too far away from your immediate concerns to really react to it.
When you come to, he’s pressing a cool, damp cloth to the back of your neck, other hand gently stroking hair away from your forehead. His voice fades back into your consciousness, a stream of gentle, soothing words as your eyes flutter open.
The feeling of the cloth cools your heated skin, and the hand gently running through your hair brings your senses back to focus, grounding you.
“Easy, adika, i’m right here, you’re safe,” he brushes his fingers against your cheek, and when you react, leaning into his touch, he gives you a small smile. “That’s it, there we go, you’re back. Everything’s good,” he soothes, gently stalling your movement when you attempt to sit up.
“Not right now, vod, stay down for a few more minutes. I’ve already got the blood work running through the scanner, and we should have its results quickly, okay.” You give him a small nod, still not really having the energy to do much else. You close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you come back to yourself, and when the scanner beeps, indicating that it completed its diagnostics, you jump slightly.
Kix moves over to check it as you slowly sit up. “Okay, so, your numbers are definitely not nearly where they should be he says, clearly unimpressed.
“But, Once we have taken care of your more serious injuries, will start you with an iron infusion delivered through an IV before transitioning back to pills. Don’t worry, we’ll have you on a much smaller dosage so that we can hopefully circumvent the discomfort you had in your stomach,” he says with optimism, which makes you feel slightly better about the fact that he’s just mentioned an IV. You’re not given much time to fixate on it, though, because he’s already turning away from the scanner, moving back to you.
“Let’s not worry about that right now, though. We have enough problems having to deal with the mess That you’ve made of yourself. I will do my best to resist calling you a di’kut as much as possible,” he says, hands on his hips, and in spite of yourself, it actually makes you laugh.
*
You didn’t realize how sore and irritated the burns on your hands were until you couldn’t hold back the audible sigh of relief that fell from your lips as soon as Kix began applying the burn cream to them. The pain instantly vanished, leaving a pleasant, cooling sensation behind. He wrapped small bacta patches around your injured fingers, explaining that it would make sure that the healing process was unimpeded by the outside environment.
That was easy, quick, painless.
Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. As soon as Kix touches it, as gentle as he can be, it flares with pain, and your muscles tense, which just makes it worse.
“I don’t know how you’ve been functioning with this for as long as you have,” he comments dryly. When his fingers press against the bone, assessing the damage with a practised familiarity, you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.
“Haar’chak,” you grit out, as behind you, Kix preps a syringe with local anesthetic.
“Which one of my di’kut brothers taught you curse words in Mandoa?” he asks, beginning to disinfect the injection site.
You flinch at the cold and your cheeks flush. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to hear that. I can’t tell you that, I made a promise.”
“Did you now?” he asks, fighting the amused smirk that plays on his lips. “Well, whoever it was, you might as well put your skills that they taught you to use.”
You look at him from over your shoulder, eyebrows raising in confusion.
He explains, “I need to give you an injection of local anaesthetic so that it takes the edge off of resetting your shoulder correctly. I know those aren’t your favourite , so, I am making a deal with you. Let me do this, and I give you free rein to throw whatever Mandoa insult my brothers have taught you at me, no consequences. Is that fair?”
The unimpressed look you’re giving at the syringe turns to surprise, then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face and you nod, quickly looking away from it. “Deal,” you accept, your voice still shaky with nerves but determined.
“Okay, deep breath for me,” He waits for you to inhale. “Perfect, now, on the exhale, give me that insult with all of your might. Ready?”
He waits for you to nod, then prompts you to exhale as he administers the anaesthetic into the back of your shoulder.
“Osi’yaim, that hurt, you di’kut,” what should be just a little pinch to your already injured shoulder makes you cry out the words, and you swear you can hear the familiar sound of Coric laughing from the other side of the medbay.
Your cheeks flush, you did not intend to be that loud. But you don’t apologize, either, and Kix only gives you a rueful grin, nodding in understanding.
As you wait for the anaesthetic to settle, Kix warns, “I’m gonna be honest, kid, because of how long you’ve left this injury to sit, even with the anesthetic, setting it is still going to hurt.”
You close your eyes, grimacing, before nodding with a sigh. “Do your worst,” you say, bracing yourself.
He lays a reassuring hand on your uninjured shoulder. “I need you relaxed, adika,” he says gently. “Trust me, it will only hurt more if you tense like that,” he continues, gently encouraging your shoulder downward with his hand.
“Easy, now. I want you to give me some good deep breath’s. In,” he inhales deeply, holding for a few seconds, “and out,” he lets his breath go in a controlled, slow stream of air.
He waits for you to copy, giving you a few breaths to settle into it as he prepares himself. “Perfect, just like that, keep it up, you’ve got this,” he keeps up the stream of encouraging words as carefully, but firmly, he rotates your arm, guiding your dislocated shoulder back into its proper place with one precise movement.
The sudden flare of pain, even dulled as it is by the anesthetic, takes your breath away momentarily, your vision instantly blurring with tears. When it clears,Kix has shifted to standing in front of you, gently wiping them away with his thumbs.
“Well done, vod’ika, you were so brave,” his words make you want to cry more, because you didn’t think you were brave. You thought that being brave meant confidence, at all times, and not letting other people see your vulnerability. You can’t fully understand it, but, now, you’re beginning to think that maybe your initial idea of bravery was wrong.
Your lip wobbles as you speak, “W what now?” you look up at him with wide, still watery eyes.
He gently strokes your hair. “Now, I’m going to get Coric, and you,” he playfully taps your nose, “are going to take a much-needed nap, if the bags under your eyes are any indication, while we take care of that leg wound.”
*
It sounds simple enough.
Kix explains the procedure while Coric preps you for surgery, making sure all your vitals are stable. As he wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, he tells you that that’s essentially his job while he’s in here. Throughout the surgery, he will monitor your vitals and make sure that they remain at safe levels.
“I’m going to remove the sutures, clean the wound, remove the infected tissue, pack the wound with saline soaked dressings, then bandage it back up so that it can heal. It goes without saying that you’re going to be off the field for at least a week. You’ll need to stay here so that we can continue to monitor your recovery as well as change the dressings often. You will also need to undergo a course of IV antibiotics to kill off any lingering infection. This will also give us time to get your haemoglobin levels back up with an infusion.”
Your eyes close tightly as anxiety knots your stomach. “Oh, force, a week? But, my master needs me,” you protest.
When your eyes open again, both medics are fixing you with equally stern looks. “Your master needs you to be safe, and healthy,” says Coric, frowning, as he carefully attaches a pulse oximeter to one of your fingers.
“If you want to be back on the field as soon as possible, you will take this week of recovery. If you want to argue with me about it, I will make it longer. A week is the absolute minimum,” Kix says, arms folded across his chest, wearing his signature “i’m the chief medical officer, you have no authority here,” expression.
You visibly deflate, reminding yourself that you pick and choose your battles, and picking and choosing a battle with two medics who are very competent at dealing with very stubborn Jedi would be a very stupid idea.
You can’t help yourself, and in spite of the fact that you shouldn’t, you stare as Kix preps your wrist for an IV line.
Sensing you’re mounting anxiety as your eyes nervously flit around, watching Kix’s Every move, Coric gently takes your other hand, squeezing when your eyes don’t immediately look at him. When you finally tear your eyes away from what Kix is doing, Coric is wearing a mischievous smile on his face. “So, Vod’ika, who taught you how to curse in Mandoa?” he asks, raising a curious brow.
You only scoff, rolling your eyes. “Kix already tried to find out. What makes you think that I’m going to tell that secret to you?”
“I’ve already got my suspicions. My moneys on Echo or Fives.” he gives you a wounded look, “I thought you would tell me, because I’m obviously your favourite.”
Kix uses this conversation to quickly insert the IV into a vein on your wrist. Reacting to the small pinch, your fingers instinctively tighten around Coric’s hand, squeezing it tightly.
“You’re definitely my favourite now,” you grumble, giving Kix a sidelong glare.
He gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Vod, i’m going to run the medication through the line now. It will act quickly, and when you wake up, this will be all done with.”
You nod, biting your lip nervously. Coric notices, giving your hand another gentle squeeze. “Hey, kid, I know you’ve heard Kix say kaysh mirsh solus all the time. Do you know what it means?”
You look at him with curiosity, shaking your head.
“Well, essentially it means they are stupid or foolish. But, the literal translation is even more direct .” Coric gives you a conspiratorial smile.
“What is it?” You ask as he leans forward.
“The literal translation means their braincell is lonely,” he says, completely serious.
You feel a smile pulling up the corners of your lips and a surprised laugh falls from them.
You feel the medication beginning to enter your system, but you’re so busy laughing that you can’t bring yourself to care. “You better not be bullshitting me,” you threaten,“or I...” you let out a yawn.
“I swear to the force, I,” your eyes begin to flutter and you yawn again, shrugging.
“I’ll think about it later,” you mumble sleepily, before promptly passing out, smile still lighting up your face.
*
Your leg hurts.
That’s the first thing you become aware of as Kix is gently encouraging you to open your eyes.
“Come on, adika, open your eyes for me,” he says softly, fingers gently brushing against your cheek to bring you back to awareness.
“But it hurts, and I wanna go back to sleep,” you wine, blinking sleepily up at him.
“Ni ceta, vod’ika,” he soothes, fingers gently caressing your forehead in an apology. “I know it hurts, and you can go back to sleep soon, I promise,”
He glances at something that you can’t see, giving a small nod,“Vitals look good, the anaesthesia is wearing off nicely, and it doesn’t appear to have affected them too much. Let’s up that IV dosage,” Kix speaks to Coric, who moves to adjust your IV out of your eyeline.
Your leg throbs, and you let out a stifled whimper, hand reaching down, trying to at least find the source of your pain when Kix catches it in his, gently stalling your movements. “Let’s leave that alone for now, vod’ika. Coric is just increasing your pain med intake, that will make it better. Then you can sleep,”
At the continued expression of pain on your face, he lets go of your hand, fingers gently playing with your hair as he instructs, “nice and easy, adika, deep breath‘s for me, everything’s okay.”
You don’t believe him at first, but slowly, things become okay. The pain quickly fades and dulls , breathing becomes easier, and your eyes begin to flutter. All the while, Kix continues holding his vigil at your bedside, fingers continuing to gently run through your hair until you fall into a natural sleep.
*
When you properly wake up next, the first thing you notice is that your leg doesn’t hurt anymore.
Whatever pain meds Kix has got you hooked up to are very effective, and your lips pull into a relieved smile.
The second thing you notice, when you glance around to get your bearings, is the face of your very concerned captain, Rex, at your bedside. You blink slowly, yawning. Although the anaesthetic has worn off, the pain meds still have you feeling like you’re in a fog, and your brain is working pretty slowly.
“When did you get here?” you ask, confused.
“I came straight here after you never reported to the bridge for today’s debriefing. The general said that you would be back today, and it’s unlike you to miss or forget about meetings,” he explains, looking at you, relieved to see you awake, but a flicker of concern still lingering in his eyes.
“Osik, sorry, Rex, I got myself into a bit of a bind over here,” you gesture to the IV that you’re hooked up to, chuckling a little.
“So I heard, don’t worry about it, kid. There wasn’t much to report, anyways.” His head tilts, and he raises a questioning eyebrow.“Who taught you how to curse in Mandoa, vod’ika?” he asks, keeping his voice light.
If you weren’t under the influence of pretty heavy duty pain medication‘s, you would have restraint, you would have thought before you opened your mouth. But for Rex, it was his lucky day.
you smirk, “good old Hardcase taught me everything I know,” you say with pride, smiling fondly at the memory.
Rex carefully files that information away so that he can scold Hardcase for that once he leaves. But he carefully keeps his face neutral.
His face grows serious. “Kix told me about all the medical appointments you’ve missed and the injuries that you’ve been covering up,” his voice is stern, every bit the commanding officer that he is in front of the troops. It makes you nervous, and you swallow, looking away from him.
“I swear to the force, if you ever pull something like that again, I will find out about it, and I’ll drag you to the medbay myself, even if it means chasing you around the ship and stunning you if I have to. do you realize how much danger you were in? How much danger you put others in? That was extremely reckless of you, commander. I’m very disappointed in your actions, and it will not happen again, do you understand?”
Your hazy memory recalls the conversation you had with Kix earlier, about this very thing, and for some reason, it hits even harder seeing the disappointment, worry and concern etched on the face of the normally composed captain.
Without prompting, you find yourself bursting into tears.
Later, you’ll blame the pain meds on your inability to keep a grip on your emotions. But right now, all you can do is think about the people, the brothers, you could have hurt, the things that could’ve happened because of you, and the tears just fall down your face, streaming from your eyes, falling down your cheeks, into your ears, dampening your hair.
.“I I’m sorry Captain I I didn’t I,” you gasp out, trying to explain, but your brain is still foggy, only clinging onto the hazy images of loss and pain due to your inability to act fast enough.
There’s a reason why people are convinced that Kix has eyes on the back of his head. Working as the highest ranking medic in the 501st has trained him to be hyper observant of all of his patients, even if he isn’t at their bedside.
So, even though he’s been taking the time to update your file on a datapad, unbeknownst to either you or Rex, he’s also been watching you like a hawk, and the minute you begin to show that you’re overwhelmed, he’s swooping in on the two of you, protective mother hen mode fully activated by the tears falling down your cheeks.
He steps in front of you, broad shoulders immediately blocking your view of your commanding officer. “Captain,” he says, and his voice is still respectful, but there’s a hard edge beneath it, something stern that you haven’t heard before, even during the worst of him lecturing you.
“You are causing undue stress to my patient, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir,” he continues, physically ushering Rex to the door.
More quietly, out of your earshot, he says,“I have already harshly reprimanded the commander. Trust me, this experience will ensure that the lesson will not be forgotten. Now, if you want to be of use, get the general and bring him to me, please. I need to speak with him. Between you and me, Rex, I’m blaming this ordeal on him.”
Rex begins to make an objection, but Kix is already turning away, folding his arms. “I don’t care if you have to drag him out of council meetings. His Padawan is more important,” he shoots back, before quickly moving back to your side, all of his hard lines instantly fading at the sight of your tear streaked face.
He’s all gentleness and soft reassurances uttered as he cups your face, wiping away your tears. When you struggle into a sitting position, falling against his chest as your arms clumsily reach for him, his arms easily pull you close to him and you sob, trying to explain.
“Kix, I, I didn’t mean to, I never wanted to hurt anyone,” you whisper, clutching at him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, wanting to disappear, feeling his body shift, one hand splayed out, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles, the other coming up to cradle your head, holding you against his warmth, sheltering you.
“Oh, adika, shh, I know. You didn’t hurt anyone, vod’ika, nothing happened,” he coos, tightening his arms around you. Lips press against your hair briefly, and you continue to cry, letting your emotions run their course as he cradles you to him, gently rocking you back-and-forth, as if you were a much smaller child.
In this moment, you certainly feel like you are, and it’s comforting, the way he holds and settles you against him , making gentle shushing noises and speaking in low, soothing tones, the words eventually losing their meaning as sleep, yet again, gently pulls at your consciousness.
The last thing you’re aware of is him gently guiding you to lie back down, another medic, you think it’s Coric, passing him a freshly warmed blanket that he tucks around you, and a hand gently brushing through your hair as you drift back to sleep, your storm settled and calmed by his words and his presence.
*
Anakin Skywalker had been in meetings with the Jedi high Council all day, was running on his 3rd cup of caff, and still found himself stifling a yawn every five minutes. So, when Rex silently slipped into the room, politely interrupting the meeting to request that Anakin report to the medbay, he instinctively rolled his eyes, grumbling that he would go later.
But when Rex stated that this wasn’t actually about him, and was in regards to his Padawan, Anakin was out of his seat in an instant, hastily making his excuses to the council before leaving the room, legs carrying him to the medbay faster than he ever had moved there before.
He doesn’t even stop to look as behind him, Rex calls to a group of troopers in a booming voice, “Hardcase, get Over here right now, you di’kut, I need to talk to you regarding professionalism when it comes to working with young Padawan’s .”
When he’s escorted into a cubicle, his eyes grow wide with alarm at the sight of you, peacefully asleep, but your face looks exhausted and worn out. You’re hooked up to an IV and monitors, there’s a thick bandage that’s been secured to the bottom half of your right leg.
Kix keeps his voice low and quiet, so as not to disturb you, but he fixes your master with a hard look as he takes him through an overview of your current health status.
“Iron deficiency anemia, burns, a dislocated shoulder, a blaster wound that had to be surgically operated on due to an untreated infection that had grown quite severe and needed to be manually removed, as well as several muscle strains and bruised ribs that can be healed with proper rest.”
His mouth falls open at the growing list, but Kix only folds his arms, continuing to speak. “General, sir, your Padawan looks to you with the highest regard, and you lead the way by example. All of these issues could have been caught much earlier and treated without having to deal with all this,” he gestures at everything you’re hooked up to.
“This behaviour was learned, and when I pressed, I found that at the root of the problem was fear of disappointing you and letting you down,” he waits for these words to sink in, and when they do, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi general who is known for his strength and recklessness on the field, hangs his head with shame, eyes finding the floor and refusing to look at Kix directly.
His meaning is clear, you are his Padawan, and as your master, it’s his responsibility to set a good example for you, and in this regard, watching pain medication flow through the IV line attached to your wrist, he knows he has failed to do so.
“So, just maybe, the next time you decide that are mandatory medical checks are optional and you can manage on your own, maybe just, consider this,” Kix gestures to you, still deeply asleep.
Before your master can respond, not that he really has any words to do so, Kix turns on his heel, quickly exiting the room before he can be reprimanded for speaking to his superior that way, not that he really cares, anyway.
If he had stayed, though, he would have seen Anakin tentatively move to your side, gently sitting on the edge of your bed as he strokes back your hair and adjusts the blankets that are tucked around you, properly shamefaced as he looks down at you and says in a voice that is soft and rarely heard coming out of him, “I’m sorry, kiddo, this one’s on me.”
*
“And this,” says Kix, quickly injecting the third and final mandatory vaccination into your arm, “is your ticket out of here.”
The week of recovery has come and gone, And you have finally been cleared to head back onto the field, as long as you continue to follow a regimen of oral antibiotics for the next week, and, more excitingly in your opinion, get out of the medbay.
“There you go, you did it,” Fives, who’s been sitting across from you, happily agreeing to be your emotional support/cheerleader, ready with a damp cloth if you need it, does a little celebratory dance that makes you laugh, even as Kix, sensing that you’re feeling unsteady, gets you to lay down.
Fives gently places the cool cloth against your skin, and it’s enough to ground you, pulling you back from the edge.
“That’s it, Vod’ika, well done, you did great,” Kix says encouragingly, giving your shoulder a warm squeeze. “Now, wait 15 minutes, and as long as you’re feeling back to normal, you can get out of here,” he smiles down at you, patting your head affectionately before moving out of the cubicle.
As soon as he’s gone, Fives liens in conspiratorially, face lighting up with mischievousness sparkling in his eyes. “Hey, kid, I bet you 10 credits that I could easily sneak you out right now and we could make this 15 minutes go a lot faster,” he grins.
In spite of the fact that you smile back at him and laugh lightly, you give your head a small shake and throw a cautious look over your shoulder.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been here for a whole week, and the biggest thing I’ve learned is that Kix and Coric do, in fact, have eyes in the back of their heads. We wouldn’t even make it out of the door.”
It’s true, you’ve seen several different troopers trying to carefully sneak out of the medbay when they think that no one is watching.
What you’ve learned, though, is that the medics of Torrent Company are always watching. Nothing gets past their keen eyes or ears, and no one successfully sneaks out undetected.
You grimace, “besides, I’ve just gotten off of Kix’s bad side, and I have no desire to go back there.”
“So,” Fives says, resignedly coming to sit on the edge of your bed with a sigh. “We’re waiting the 15 minutes?”
You carefully sit up, giving him a nod and a decisive look as you lean your head against his shoulder..
“Yes, Fives,” you affirm, letting out a small sigh of your own. “We are waiting the 15 minutes.”
*************************
thank you so much for reading. Comments and re-blogs are always appreciated here.are always appreciated here.
Mandoa translations.
Kaysh mirsh solus, they are stupid/foolish.
Ori’vod: Big Brother (in this instance) can also be used as big sister or big sibling.
Ni ceta: i’m sorry.
Vod: Brother/ sister/ sibling.
Adika: little one.
Vod’ika: Little sister, little brother, or little sibling
Haar’chak: damm it.
Di’kut: Fool (literal translation is underwear forgeter) which kills me.
Osi’yaim: shithead.
Osik: shit.
#star wars x reader#kix x reader#platonic#reader insert#gn reader#padawan reader#fives x reader#anakin x reader#rex x reader#kix#clone medic kix#arc trooper fives#captain rex#Anakin Skywalker#the clone wars fanfiction#platonic imagine#tcw fanfiction#star wars fanfiction
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Could you maybe do something like jedi Reader comforts Rex after Umbara?
You got it!
A/N: Can be read as a platonic relationship. Includes platonic bedsharing with multiple clones.
You wandered throughout the barracks after meeting with several jedi generals. You were headed back to the temple when you saw Rex. You tried greeting him with a smile, but he looked devastated and angry at the same time. He looked at you and tried softening his features.
"I heard," you said, referring to Umbara.
Rex shook his head and looked away. You sensed his devastation.
"So many good men are gone," he whispered.
You put a hand on his elbow and guided him to sit down in the nearby mess hall. You put a hand on his shoulder and waited for him to speak. His grief weighed so heavily, you weren't sure how he was still going. Rex leaned toward you and allowed you to wrap your arms around him. He started listing the names of all the men he knew were gone and then Dogma, whose future was unknown.
"None of this should have happened," he gritted through his teeth.
"I heard about Krell." You refused to call him a master any more. "Some of the other masters are concerned he may have influenced other jedi. I hope not."
"He had a reputation for not caring about the clones," said Rex, "and I shouldn't have pushed that fact aside as long as I did."
"You're loyal, Rex. You're an excellent leader and soldier. Don't blame yourself."
You wiped away an escaped tear. You sat there with him as time ticked on. You weren't leaving that night. You, Rex, Fives, Tup, and Jesse pushed some mattresses together on the floor of their barracks. You slept together, holding on to him. Everyone laid in a pile and fell asleep. They just wanted to stay connected and hope that they could keep going on.
#captain rex#rex anon#captain rex x reader#captain rex x jedi reader#rex x reader#captain rex x gn reader#captain rex x platonic reader#rex x gn reader#tcw fanfiction#the clone wars#the clone wars fan fiction#tcw#reader insert
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"Hello buir, this is your grandson."
"Buir? ...grandson??"
---
Was very frustrated I couldn't come up with anything for Cody Day (2/2/24) and then remembered that I have other ways to create chaos.
Anyway, TCW/Mandalorian time travel shenanigans! After o66, Cody ended up with the Tribe, never removing his helmet and devoting himself to taking care of the foundlings as a way to ease his guilt. He took a shine to Din, raised him as his own, and taught him everything he knew. ('What do you mean you're not supposed to physically assault droids with your bare hands?')
He was probably lost in one of the assaults on the Tribe that resulted in them having to relocate so often, but that's one of the reasons Din was so adamant about never removing his helmet: he wanted to honor his buir's memory.
Eventually Mandalor Din (lalala what season 3 lalalalala), Grogu, and Protector Paz end up interacting with some kind of Force bullshit and get chucked into the past. They then meet Cody, whose scar is in the exact same place as the marking that Din's buir always painted on his helmet.
(scar not pictured, as this figure of cody does not have a face)
((meanwhile paz and rex are Not About these shenanigans. mandalor please step away from the proto-stormtrooper. cody please remove yourself from within reach of the extremely well-armed mandalorian. why do second-in-commands always have to deal with idiot leaders paz and rex did nothing to deserve this))
#cody day 2224#star wars#the mandalorian#tcw#commander cody#din djarin#tcw fanfiction#sorta#mandalorian fanfiction#also sorta#liz plays with action figures
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Revolve - Captain Rex x Fem!Reader
Summary: After months of thinking he was dead, Captain Rex comes back into your life. There will be time to figure out where you lie in a galaxy neither of you know anymore, but for now you can't keep your hands off him and Rex needs to show you how much he missed you.
Warnings: Smut (18+ only for this folks), oral sex (f receiving), boob & general body worship, PiV, praise kink, mentions of/light cockwarming, creampie
A/N: Inspired by Rex's return in The Bad Batch season 2, but no spoilers for the episode's plot. It's been a long time of writer's block, so i'm kicking up my brain again with some good old smut featuring our favorite blond captain. Divider by @galacticgraffiti
Word Count: 3.4k
Ao3 Link
Masterlist
You were always careful with how you left your apartment: Coruscant wasn’t a safe space to live, even before the Empire. Now there was a false sense of security, a cover brought by the end of the war that should make you feel comfort but you couldn’t lose the fear that something else would come to shake your world at its core. Thing were supposed to be safe, but you didn’t recognize the galaxy anymore. You couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder as you walked home, you never lingered in secluded spots for too long, maybe you were being paranoid, but ever since you the war ended you knew you weren’t safe. Maybe it was because you lost the one person who you knew would always look after you. So, you always triple check that your doors are locked before bed, that your security system was on, and would repeat the same motions when you left for work in the morning. So, tonight when you arrive home to an unlocked door, it’s more than a surprise.
You recognize the simple signs of disturbances; your chair slightly nudged to the side, a cloak resting over the back of your couch. Whoever came in was giving you warning signs so you wouldn’t be alarmed once you saw the shadow of their figure staring out your window.
And the last thing Rex ever wanted to do was frighten you.
At the sound of your keys landing on the counter, Rex turns to face you. He looks good for a 'dead' man. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, your feet frozen in place as you take in the man in front of you. You never believed the reports, couldn’t fathom that he had died in the crash that took his brothers. Still, it was like a ghost stood in front of you, and you were afraid if you acknowledged it, you would wake up from this wanted dream.
But then he says your name, the rumble of his voice too present to be a figment of your imagination. His eyes are filled with longing and disbelief even though he had sought you out; you would have teased him for it if you weren't in shock yourself.
You practically leap at him, and Rex is waiting with open arms; those strong, caring arms grasping you tightly as he tugs you into his chest. The vest he wears is so light you can feel his heart thudding in his chest, as runaway with glee as yours is too. He presses his face into your neck, smelling the scent of your shampoo, taking in your essence. HIs hands grasp your clothing, he needed this moment just as much as you did; this tangible proof that you still existed after everything else fell apart.
"Cyar'ika," He murmurs, his breath hot against the skin of your neck. Hu nuzzles into you and you feel the stubble growing on his cheek; a new thing for him. "I'm sorry it took me so long."
"I thought I lost you," you manage to squeak out, eyes burning from tears threatening to spill over.
"I wanted to be here sooner," you can feel the weight of honesty on his words. Rex pulls back, his eyes once again finding you. Now that you're closer, you can take him in much better. A pale scar on his temple is the only sign of injury on him. He rests his hand on your cheek, his thumb circling over where tears had already managed to stain. "I would have been. But it wasn't safe."
"It still isn't," you interject, your worry for him renewed in a different way. "So much has happened so quickly. And I don't believe what they're saying about the Jedi being traitors, it just doesn't make sense."
"It's all lies," Rex insists in a harsher tone than he's ever used with you. He dials it back once he sees the apprehension on your face, pecking a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. His face is lined with exhaustion, his eyes tired, and you can feel the anger laced with guilt radiating off him. "Palpatine was using them, using all of us, all along."
"What happened?" you almost don't want to know, but you have to understand where he's been, everything he's dealt with. You can't take his burdens, but you can help him with the weight.
"It's not a quick tale," he says with a mirthless chuckle, that deep sound that you love so much hidden behind the dead seriousness.
"Well, I'm here to listen," You nuzzle against his hand, planting a kiss in his palm.
"Later. Right now, though..." Rex's tone gets lower, his hand sliding to your neck as the arm around your back squeezes you tighter. “It’s been too long since I kissed you.”
You don’t have time to reply before his lips are on yours, a moan catching your throat as his grasp tightens. Rex is slow, tentative at first, as if he’s savoring the moment to make up for lost time. But when you pull back for air, it’s like a switch flips in him; his eyes are dark with desire, hooded as they look over you.
He guides you back to the bedroom he’s spent so many nights in. He knows your place like it was his own, and one day you had wanted to make it so. Now you know that day could never be.
Rex kisses you again, hungrier and insisting as his hands find the waistline of your pants. You can’t hold in the giggle that escapes your lips at his frantic attempts to take your clothes off. You help him as best you can, lifting your shirt up. Rex makes an indignant huff when he has to release your lips, but its quickly silenced as you stand in front of him in your bra and panties. His hands reach around your back, his deft fingers skillfully removing your bra. His eyes are locked on your face as he slides it off you, watching the way your lips tremble in anticipation.
Rex’s touch was reverential; his fingertips grazing over your skin, raising goosebumps as his touch passed. Your nipples pebbled, from the cold air or from the arousal of the heat of his hands against you, you weren’t sure.
“I missed you,” you whimper as he nudges you to sit on the bed. That doesn’t encompass all you’ve felt in the last few months. Nothing could compare to the ache you felt without him. But you couldn’t burden him with that, not when he was dealing with so much.
“I’ve missed you too, Cyare,” Rex leans down and clasps both his hands around your face. “But I’m here now. It’s just you and me.”
He’s quick to remove his clothes, eager to feel his skin against yours. You slide back as he does, taking him in as you prop up on your elbows. His chest is littered with more scars than you remember, something that frightens you. But you can’t let your fears get in the way of this moment.
You spread your legs wider, smirking at the way Rex’s eyes linger on your panties, the only time of clothing either of you are wearing. He prowls to the bed, slowly climbing on it and over you until he’s kissing you again.
“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” Rex murmurs against your lips.
“You could mention it more often,” you can’t resist the urge to tease, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach. Rex blows a huff of air against your lips as he chuckles in response.
“Alright then,” he starts, his voice dangerously low as he presses up.
“You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, pecking a kiss on the corner of your mouth. His lips trail down to your jaw, his breath hot on you as if meets the sensitive skin of your neck. You yelp in surprise as his teeth meet your skin, nipping lightly before his tongue laves over the sensitive spot. “And so sexy.”
He makes his way down to your heaving chest. His palm cups on of your breasts, squeezing as he plants open mouthed kisses on your sternum. His eyes meet yours once again, a slight smugness in them as his tongue peaks out and flicks over your nipple.
“Love your perfect tits,” Rex groans before sucking your nipple between his lips. You whimper from the pleasure, your cheeks hot and your core aching. He moves to your other breast, sucking on that nipple too as you squirm beneath him. You try to press your legs together to release some of the need settling in at the apex of your thighs, but Rex’s body between you prevents that. But he knows what you want, and starts to grind his hardness against you. You gasp as you feel how large he is, his hot and heavy cock rutting against you. Droplets of precum smear against your lower abdomen as Rex lazily thrusts, still focused on your chest.
When he decides he’s done, he scoots lower down your body, his tongue tracing his path down before he gets to your panties. Rex looks up at you, his brown eyes filled with sinful wanting as he licks a stripe over your covered slit, tasting the tang of your arousal that had already dampened your panties. You moan his name, one of your legs crossing over his back to nudge him closer to you.
“Patience,” Rex tsks, that small, confident grin that drives you insane still on his face. His fingers toy with the band on your panties. “Only good girls get rewarded.”
You hmph, prepared to sass him back when he raises an eyebrow at you. You put on a sweet smile, and nudge your legs slightly further apart, waving your hips as you wiggle.
“I’ve just missed how good you make me feel,” you sound breathless as you say it. “I can’t handle being teased right now.”
You try to shift again but Rex holds you steady. He presses a kiss to your thigh; the roughness of his stubble sends a shiver down your spine. You must be dripping in your panties, your need for him to give you everything taking over. “Rex; please.”
Rex was a resolved man, but he always had a weakness where you were concerned. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”
Rex loops his fingers around your waistband and slowly slides your panties down, groaning when he sees your glistening lips. Once they’re off, he crawls back to you on the bed. His strong arms wrap around your thighs, his large hands holding your thighs steady and open for him as he dives in.
You moan as soon as his tongue glides through your lips, you try to grind your hips against his face but his grip is strong, holding you in place as he tastes you. He licks a long, flat strip up your slit, then circles over your clit with his tongue, You can’t hold in the way your breath hitches as he flicks over your clit, teasing you as he begins to finally relieve some of that pressure aching in you.
Rex groans against your skin as he tastes you, thinking of how much he missed this, missed you. It’s cliche to say, but he eats you like a man starved; he had been so long deprived of you that now he needed to relish it, savor it. Something ignited in him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he buried his face there. You knew if he wasn’t holding you steady, your legs would be squeezing against his head. Your hands jump to the back of his head, your nails probably scratching the back of his head, but he gives no sign he minds. In fact he seems to like it; he groans into your core, the vibrations against your sensitive skin making you keen.
His eyes dart up as you gasp, a challenge and a cockiness in his eyes that sets you on fire. He unwinds one of his arms from your legs, the limb weighted with the signs of that sweet soreness you’ll feel in the morning. You’re about to offer Rex some teasing remark for it, when you feel a thick finger probing at your entrance and your words turn into a moan.
“Relax, cyar’ika, I’ve got you,” Rex croons as his finger slowly drags in and out of you. He puls it in and out of you, slowly increasing his pace, before adding a second finger in. Your walls cling to his fingers, tightly clenching around them as Rex fingers you. He crooks his finger, finding your g-spot with such a skill and ease; he knows your body so well, knows exactly what to do to make you feel good.
With only one hand to keep you in place, your squirming has increased; your body acting of its own mind to chase his fingers as they thrust into your pussy. The way his fingers fill you is near perfect, second only to his cock. You can feel the pressure cresting in your body with every stroke of his fingers inside you, your breath leaving you in sighs as your chest begins to heave. He slips another finger in, stuffing you and warming you up for what’s to come and you swear you’re close to seeing the Maker.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” Rex grunts out, his voice husky with arousal. You can feel his breath on your pussy as he encourages you. “I can feel how close you are. Go on, let go for me.”
He leans in and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking as his fingers stick with their consistent motion against your g-spot. You cry out his name, your body tensing as you climb that peak, finally toppling over with a swipe of his dexterous fingers. Your vision dots white and your voice cracks as your head rolls back. Rex keeps sucking your clit and fingering you as your orgasm washes over you, only slowing when your body relaxes again.
“How was that?” Rex asks, his smirk telling you he already knew the answer. He pushes himself back up, climbing over you so he could kiss you; you could taste yourself on his lips.
“Hmm could have been bett-oh,” Your teasing reply is cut off by Rex kissing you again, his hand slips to your neck, his fingers clasping around it. He only gives a light pressure, not enough hurt you in any way but enough to remind you who made you feel that good. You can feel his cock, hot and hard against your thigh as his kiss grew more insistent, tongue meeting tongue as your arousal built up again. Rex can’t wait any longer either.
“I need you.” He grunts out in between kisses, needy and purposeful.
“Then take me,” you reply, out of breath, ready to offer him everything you have.
Rex enters you slowly, his cock stretching you, filling you in the way you craved. Your hands clenched around his biceps, nails digging into his skin as you hissed from the slight pain that came from getting used to him. But maker, it was so worth it. Rex’s muscles were clenched as he held himself back from roughly snapping his hips to yours; he wanted to take you, claim you entirely as his and Maker knows you would willingly let him. But that restraint made those first moments all the more savorful, something to cling to before you lost yourselves.
Rex groans roughly as his cock hilts completely inside you, pressing his forehead against yours. He stills for a moment, breathing heavily as he feels you around him, warm and tight. He loves the feeling of you beneath him trembling with want, loves the way you bite your lips as you try and hold your whimpers inside. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you, taking you in and reading you to judge when you’re ready for him to move.
He fills you so perfectly, you would let him lay here for hours, semi-crushing you with his cock inside you as your cunt squeezes around him. You would have him use you in any way he wanted and you would let him. But now there’s one thing alone you want, you meet his eyes and nod, digging your nails tighter into his skin as you beg, “Move, please Rex .”
You cry in pleasure as he thrusts back and slams his hips back into you so hard you feel him in your gut. You’re still moaning when he thrusts again, just as hard, just as deep.
This wasn’t your soft and tender Rex; you knew he was there, under the hardened layers of a man who had lost everything. This Rex is still kind, still devoted, but he has a need burning through him. A desire to take you and consume you. His grip around you is harsh, his arms squeezing you as they wrap around your torso so hard you half wonder if he could break you. His thrusts near punishing, his cock plunging deep into you. You can’t hold in your moans and cries; and Rex doesn’t want you to. He wants to hear you, needs to know how you fall apart under him, how you call his name, how you beg for him.
“That’s my good girl,” he grits out, his voice so low it sparked a fuse inside you. His eyes flashed as you clenched around him. “Taking me so well. You look so beautiful like this.”
“You feel so good,” you tell him. But there’s a smugness on his face.
“I know, princess,” you swear you could cum right then. He knows what he’s doing to you. He can feel the way your body trembles beneath him, how your legs quake around his waist, how your cunt is leaking with arousal all by what’s he’s doing to you.
You clutch onto him likes he’s your life line, and in a way he is. Everything revolves around him, in a way that fills you with bliss when he’s with you and a way that filled you with dread these last few months without him. You’re still torn under the surface, wanting to cry in joy and sorry over ever emotion running through you at seeing him again but you’ll have time for that later, time to figure out what comes next. Right now, the only thing that matters is he’s here with you.
Every stroke of his cock inside you knocks the air out of you; you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve moaned his name or how many times your name has left his lips like a prayer. His praises for you falling between every thrust, igniting that fire in your gut as he pounds into you.
Rex holds you tighter and you feel like he could snap you in half; his thrusts going faster and faster, his grunts in your ear getting louder. A layer of sweat beads on both your bodies, the smack of your hips meeting is lewd but heavenly. Your breath is pitching, every time Rex moves his cock hits you in a place so deep as he pushes you closer and closer to ecstasy. He can feel you pulsing around him, hear the way your voice is cracking and he knows you’re about to come.
“Come on mesh’la, that’s it,” Rex orders hoarsely, his voice rugged and tense as he holds himself together for a little bit longer, “come for me.”
You start to see stars as your orgasm hits you. Rex fucks your harder as you come, his breath loud as he chases his own orgasm with you. Your pussy clenches around Rex’s thick cock, milking him dry as he grunts out and spills inside you. You should be embarrassed by how loud you are, knowing there’s no way your neighbors can’t hear you yell Rex’s name but you can’t bother to care. Rex’s thrusts speed up as he empties himself into you, until he presses all the way in once more when he’s done, filling you into most sinfully delightful way as he collapses on top of you.
You both lay there for an immeasurable amount of time; his cock still filling you up, plugging your mixed releases that slowly leak out of you as he softens. His lips are in your neck, softly kissing you as he murmurs his adorations into your skin. Your fingers trace circles on his back, over the scars that litter his body. There are conversations to be had, plans to be made: but nothing else matters in this moment more than having your Rex back, safe with you.
--
Taglist & Rex Hoes (fill out this form on my masterlist if you want to be added!)
@stankferrik @nyravioppri @pinkiemme @fivesarctrooper1 @twistedstitcher27 @frietiemeloen @galacticgraffiti @a-c-lee @ashotofspotchka @itsagrimm @rexandechosandwich @stankferrik @nyravioppri @mavendeb @rain-on-kamino @alwayssnivellus @amyroswell @Sailingthehighseas @lucyysthings @manqoz @lady--kenobi @punkpirate82 @rowansparrow @starstofillmydream @sunshinesdaydream @lucyysthings @hotpinkplastoid @fordo-kixed-rex @ilikemymendarkandfictional @babygirlrex0504 @djarrex @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @fett-djarin
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Hi! I can't remember if I actually submitted an ask for your Roll for Request event. I know I saved your post and did the rolls, but I don't remember passing them on to you.
If I already submitted this, then feel free to ignore me!
Here's what I rolled:
2 - Hunter (I swear I didn't cheat)
8 - “Please, don’t argue. You have to leave right now; you aren’t safe here.”
5 - Fluff
As far as anything else, I leave it up to your imagination (because I have none, haha.)
Thanks!
Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)
Double Agent
Hunter x gn!reader (they/them pronouns, no other description)
Author's Note: Thanks for letting me reroll the prompt a little! I hope you like how it turned out!
Warnings: jealousy, tiny bit of protective!Hunter, Omega is a Little Shit, but like in an endearing way, love confessions, first kiss
Mando'a Guide:
mesh'la - beautiful
It was another beautiful day in Pabu. The sun was bright and warm, moonyos were chittering as they ran across the paths, and Hunter stood against a wall, scowling at the scene playing out before him.
You were standing, talking to a neighbor excitedly about something he couldn’t make out, but he could see that you were smiling.
You had adjusted to life in Pabu easier than the rest of them, trusting the people here immediately and wholeheartedly. Sure, the rest of the squad was opening up, too, but there was something nagging at the back of Hunter’s brain every time he watched you make a new acquaintance.
Your laugh caught his attention and he watched as your hand touched the man’s arm, steadying yourself.
He heard Omega approach from his side. “Hunter?” she questioned, following his line of sight to you.
“Yeah?”
“Is everything okay?”
He briefly glanced down at her. “Yeah, everything is fine.”
Omega nodded, but her curious gaze stuck on him. “You’re doing it again.”
Hunter’s brow furrowed a little more. “What?”
She shrugged. “Echo told me I had to keep an extra eye on you because you do this thing where you stare at them looking all grumpy. He said that you were gonna scare them off.”
Hunter’s gaze finally fully shifted to her. “I don’t do that,” he protested, earning an incredulous look from his sister.
“Why are you always so angry with them anyway? They’re really nice and funny-”
“I’m not angry,” Hunter interjected with a sigh. “I just think they trust too easily.”
“Oh,” Omega hummed, drawing out the vowel. “So you’re protecting them?”
A vague suspicion tagged at the back of his brain as her tone shifted, but he ignored it as he kept his eyes on you. “Sure.”
“You don’t watch Tech or Wrecker like this,” she pointed out.
Hunter sighed. “They don’t get into trouble as much.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Omega,” Hunter warned.
“Don’t you trust them?”
“I do, but-”
“I think you like them.”
Hunter all but growled in frustration. “Look, sometimes you have to keep an eye on people you lo– people you care about to make sure that they’re okay.”
“So,” Omega murmured. “You do care about them.”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
“Ye– they’re part of this squad.”
He wasn’t sure when exactly she had left his side, his attention focused on you as you accompanied the neighbor back through the streets of Pabu.
It had taken quite a bit of practice, but Omega was getting better at evading her brother’s heightened senses. She ducked underneath a wall with flowers growing out of it, whispering your name as you emerged from your new friend’s house.
“Omega?” you chuckled. “What are you doing?”
“Get down here!” she hissed, her tone setting off an alarm in your mind, but her grin soothing it.
You knelt down next to her. “What’s going on?”
“Remember that special mission?” she smiled, excitement permeating the air around her.
You eyed her suspiciously. “Omega-”
“I know you said to drop it,” she explained. “But I think I’ve made some progress!”
You sighed, running a hand down your face as she continued.
“He only glares at you like that because he’s trying to protect you,” she informed you. “He thinks you get into trouble a lot, so he has to make sure you’re okay. But he said he cares about you a lot.”
You blinked at her, the information still processing.
“Why- why didn’t he come and talk to me himself?” you mumbled.
“Echo said it’s because he’s scared of you,” Omega stated, matter-of-factly.
You scoffed. “Scared of me? Look at me, ‘Meg; I’m not exactly intimidating.”
“Perhaps not physically,” Tech suddenly appeared at the other side of the wall they were sitting against, startling you. “But given that Hunter has seldom cared for anyone outside of his siblings, it stands to reason that his affection for you feels unfamiliar and therefore, uncomfortable.”
Tech continued on to inform Omega about how she can improve at staying out of Hunter’s awareness as you sat, trying to absorb the information. One phrase hummed through your body on repeat. He cares about you.
As it neared sunset, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the dock, staring out at the horizon.
“Mind if I join you?” Hunter asked. You nodded with a small smile.
He sat next to you, mirroring the way your feet hung over the side. You sat there together in an easy silence, though you could tell he had something to say.
“Did Omega tell you I was here?” you prompted. Maybe you could draw something out of the terse sergeant.
“Uh, yeah,” he hummed.
“So you came looking for me?”
He nodded, awkwardly sparing a glance towards you.
You smirked. “What can I do for you, Hunter?”
He felt his body humming with electricity as you said his name. You have no idea the effect you have on me, he thought.
“No? Maybe you could tell me,” you suggested, watching his entire face bloom into a deep red as he realized he’d voiced what he meant to stay in his head. You set a hand gently on his knee, noting the tiny gasp he made. “I have it on pretty good authority that you care about me.”
Hunter swallowed. Omega was so grounded.
“Perhaps our little double agent didn’t relay information back to you,” you mused.
“No?” he nearly whispered.
“She told me how you feel, but I don’t think she told you how I feel,” you smiled, feeling your own cheeks warm under his intense gaze.
Hunter’s mouth felt dry and his heart pounded against his ribcage. “And how do you feel?”
This was it. You had to say it now.
“To put it simply, I’m in love with you, Hunter.”
Time stopped around you, the ocean ceased its ebb and flow, the sun paused where it hung low in the sky. There was no sound but both of your heartbeats as you gazed at one another. Hunter’s mouth was parted in a tiny ‘o’ like he couldn’t believe what you’d just confessed.
Reality snapped back into place around you as he began to smile. He leaned towards you, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face. “I’m in love with you, too, mesh’la.”
Neither of you knew who’d closed the gap first, your lips slotting together in a deep and overdue embrace. He broke the contact first, resting his forehead against yours as he attempted to catch his breath. In this moment, it was just you and Hunter.
Neither of you heard the hoots and hollering of the rest of the squad.
Thanks for reading! - River
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not a miracle needed
wc: 940
notes: another 15-minute sprint, tho this one grew legs and ended up being more like 25 minutes lol. first foray into coday bingo !
summary:
Well, Cody wasn’t going to argue with his superior. He had better things to do. The artillery shell that had taken out the crumbling brick wall he’d been using for cover was—
“Thank the Force,” Kenobi said. Cody found himself being lifted like a recalcitrant tooka and settled onto a gurney. He made to get up again and Kenobi easily pinned him with a hand to the center of his chest.
cross-posted to ao3
“Hey, hey, hey,” a strident voice said. It was much too loud and right next to Cody’s ear. He would have batted at it but his hands had become cold and leaden weights, and his eyelids weren’t responding to any of his commands. He did not panic, because Marshal Commanders did not panic.
“I’m fine,” Cody said. He wasn’t sure if the words ever made it past his tongue. It felt too big for his mouth, all dry and fuzzy.
A warm—burning, really—thumb peeled back one of his eyelids. Cody made another token protest, wincing in the harsh sunlight that blinded him for one heady moment.
“—requesting medevac at—” the too-loud voice that had jarred Cody from his cold and slightly dim wool-gathering was General Kenobi. His General Kenobi. A thrill of something—alarm, panic, and a weighty and fang-filled feeling that pulled at the pit of his stomach—shot through him. The shock of emotion and subsequent adrenaline was enough for him to jerk into motion, heaving himself up onto one elbow and then the other. What went through him next was considerably less pleasant. If he’d had anything left in him, he would have sicked up all over the General’s no-longer shining leather boots.
“Force preserve every little—” Kenobi bit himself off and wrapped an arm around Cody’s shoulders. “Stubborn,” he hissed against Cody’s temple.
The air was thick with smoke. Choked with it, really. Cody shook his head to clear it and then patiently blinked away the resulting black spots in his vision.
“Yes, you are,” Kenobi insisted, evidently taking the motion as some kind of refusal. He pressed the palm of his hand to the side of Cody’s face, mopping at the scalding heat that sheeted down his temple and left a wash of crimson all down his spaulder.
Well, Cody wasn’t going to argue with his superior. He had better things to do. The artillery shell that had taken out the crumbling brick wall he’d been using for cover was—
“Thank the Force,” Kenobi said. Cody found himself being lifted like a recalcitrant tooka and settled onto a gurney. He made to get up again and Kenobi easily pinned him with a hand to the center of his chest. “We took the southerly quarter and are waiting upon reinforcements for the city center. The Separatists are dug in and have taken civilian hostages—there’s nothing more to do here. Not yet.”
With great reluctance, Cody let himself be strapped to the gurney. Howl and one of his minions were saying something in rapid-fire shorthand, some kind of code a CMO—he strongly suspected Howl himself—had invented to make medbay instruction faster. In war, time was more precious than blood.
“You’ll be alright,” Kenobi said. He kept his hand over the side of Cody’s face until Howl pried his fingers away. Cody let the dizziness wash over him in waves. It threatened and receded in time with the black spotting his vision. His chin tipped toward his chest without conscious input and his breathing seemed too loud and ragged in his own ears.
“You will be alright,” Howl confirmed briskly, doing something on Cody’s far side while his subordinate did something by Cody’s boots. They were moving at a fast clip now but Kenobi still had a hand on the side of Cody’s gurney. He was doing—something. Cody wasn’t sure what but the wrinkle between his brows was a dead giveaway. “Won’t even get a matching scar to even out your face. How many fingers, Commander?”
“Three,” Cody grunted out. Whatever Howl was doing had somehow eased the swelling in his mouth. He must have bitten his tongue: it was still hot and swollen but it no longer filled his mouth and turned his words to mush.
“What’s your serial?”
“CC-2224.” Cody blinked one eye closed and then the other. The blood clotting the side of his face had been cleaned away at some point. Fuzziness receded in a great wave and stayed away this time. In its place a tide of searing pain swam up through his bones to make the palms of his hands prickle and the backs of his knees sweat.
“Duty calls.” Kenobi’s hand founds its way to the two square inches of Cody’s skin—just between spaulder and the strap of his chestplate where his body glove had torn or singed away in the blast—and gave him a firm squeeze. He looked redolent of sunlight, the golden near-dusk haloing him in brass and picking out every one of his flyaways in warm light. “Don’t try and stand up again, hm?”
Before Cody could reply, the General was bounding off and barking orders into the comm unit affixed to his vambrace.
“Arsehole,” Howl said. He managed to make it sound admiring. Somehow. “He’s right though, Commander. You got a nasty concussion, going to need stitches for your arm and leg, dislocated a shoulder when you landed, and I don’t even want to think about the state of your lungs. Congratulations, sir. You’ve narrowly missed getting tanked.”
“Never gonna catch on, Lieutenant,” Cody rasped. Howl gave him a little pshaw of skepticism in reply.
“You’ve no whimsy in your bucket, Commander,” Howl told him.
“Left it all in the vat.” Cody let a chuckle escape him and instantly regretted it. Howl patted his shoulder in sympathy, pretended to start a countdown, and stuck a needle in the crook of Cody’s elbow.
The darkness rose up in the wake of the pain, the exhaustion, the vertigo. Cody was out like a light before he knew it.
#hurt/comfort#commander cody#obi-wan kenobi#a heat rash in the shape of the show me state#cody day#coday#cody bingo#tcw fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#the clone wars#eehn. i dont care enough to add more tags#aaaaaand POST
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Suckers
Fives & Echo
Summary: Hilarity ensues when Fives spots a lollipop in the shape of a clone.
Pairing: None
Characters: Fives, Echo, Rex, Fox
Tags & Warnings: humor, crude humor, sexual humor, sexual innuendos, art comic at the end
Word Count: 337
Author's Note: I blame cursed clone wars merchandise on eBay, late-night Discord chats, and @kimiheartblade for this abomination 😂 It's pretty much just dialogue. I don't even know if I want to call this a fic, considering how thrown together it is. But sometimes you just have to write funny stuff. As always, please enjoy 💚
"Hey, Echo, look at this!" Fives yells. He grabs Echo's arm and pulls him towards the candy storefront.
"What?" Echo huffs, then yanks his arm back.
"It's us!" Fives exclaims.
Echo raises an eyebrow. "Huh?"
"They made us into suckers!" Fives smiles. He points to the clone-shaped lollipops nestled in a stand next to the candy store window.
"And you're excited about that, why?" Echo asks.
"We're famous!" Fives grins.
"Right," Echo rolls his eyes, "because minors and middle-aged single women sucking on us is peak fame."
"Aw, come on, Echo," Fives says. "It's a novelty!"
Echo crosses his arms. "It's disgusting."
"I'm gonna buy one," Fives says, then walks towards the door.
"Wait!" Echo yells, trying to stop him, but he can't.
Fives buys the lollipop and returns to Echo, who is waiting for him outside the shop.
Echo sighs. "Happy now?"
Fives smiles and then shoves the lollipop in Echo's face. "Here, have a lick."
Echo cringes away. "Ew, no way!"
"It's just a lollipop," Fives says.
"I don't care," Echo huffs.
"But don't you want to know what flavor they made you?" Fives asks.
"No!" Echo says. "I don't have a flavor."
"But it looks like you," Fives says.
"I'm not sucking on something that looks like me," Echo says.
"Then it looks like me," Fives says.
"I'm not sucking on something that looks like you either!" Echo exclaims.
"It's kriffing sugar!" Fives retorts.
Rex taps his foot against the pavement, his arms crossed, while staring at his two arc troopers who are currently sitting handcuffed on the edge of the curb.
"Does someone want to tell me why the Coruscant Guard got called out here?" Rex asks.
Fives and Echo look away from each other in embarrassment.
Fox clears his throat. "Several passersby complained of two men in an altercation with one of them repeatedly yelling, 'suck on it'."
Rex takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"We can expl–"
"Don't," Rex interjects with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to know."
Comic by @chiliger
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For the 'sweet and intimate actions' prompts you reblogged, may I request some 12 (Character B tucking Character A’s head under their chin while they’re cuddling) with a touch of 13 (Character B nuzzling their neck and breathing in Character A’s scent/fragrance, and commenting on how nice they smell) with Rex and short fem!reader?
No obligation!
(eternal-transcience)
With You
Pairing: Rex x Fem!Reader, but can also be Gen!Reader
Warnings: None. Fluff, fluffy fluffy fluff. Kissing, but nothing explicit. Established relationship.
WC: ~700
Summary: You and Rex share a morning in bed.
A/N: Hello @eternal-transcience ! Thank you so much for the ask. Rex is King and I haven’t written for him in awhile, so I was happy to get this request! I was possessed by the Fluff Gods and wrote this fluffy lil’ piece for you. I hope you enjoy it!
Prompts taken from Sweet and Intimate Actions list.
You woke slowly, blinking sleep out of your eyes and stretching under the pile of blankets that lay on top of you.
You instinctively reached over, hoping your hand would meet the warmth of Rex’s shoulder or chest, but instead found empty mattress.
You frowned, knowing he had probably been up for hours working on reports. You never expected Rex to toss aside his duties for you, but sometimes he didn’t know when to take a break.
You sat up fully, ready to find Rex and drag him back to bed.
As your feet hit the carpeted floor, the bedroom door opened and Rex stepped in, holding two cups of hot caf.
“Good morning.” He smiled softly, the wrinkles you loved so much appearing at the sides of his eyes. It was something he was self-conscious about, but you lived to see those wrinkles, since they only appeared when he was smiling. When he was happy.
He set the caf down on your nightstand, kissing your forehead as he did so.
“How long have you been awake?” You asked, watching as he strode to his side of the bed, placing his caf down as he sat on the edge of the mattress.
“Not long. Figured you’d be up soon, thought I’d take it slow this morning.”
You grinned, settling back into bed as he did the same. Rex pulled you into him, placing his chin on your head, and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He knew you loved this, being so close to him and safe in his arms.
“Taking it slow is something we never get to do.” You mumbled as you snuggled even closer to him, his strong arms draped around your smaller form, huddled entirely to his warm, solid body.
Rex hummed, stroking your back in gentle, rhythmic movements that made your eyelids droopy.
“I know…” He kissed the top of your head. “That’s why I’m back in bed.”
You removed your head from his neck, taking in everything that was him. He was basked in the early morning light, tanned muscle decorated with scars of different shapes and sizes that you have traced and memorized time and time again.
Rex was resolute in so many things. His duty to the Republic. His love for his brothers. His dedication to you. You will always be a loving and safe place for him, just as he is for you.
He was beautiful in all sense of the word. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him by your side.
He must have been thinking the same as you as his gentle honeyed eyes met yours. He wordlessly brought a calloused hand to your cheek, capturing your lips in a long, worshipful kiss. You sighed against his lips, lightly running your fingertips over his buzzed head. He hummed in delight, deepening the kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek.
Rex laid you down on your back, covering his body with yours as he kissed you. You moved together in practiced rhythm, a loving dance that didn’t need words.
When you both finally parted for air, Rex gazed down at you with such reverence you felt butterflies explode in your stomach. He somehow always made you feel like you were meeting for the first time, enraptured by one another’s presence.
“I love you.” You whispered, mirroring his motion from before, stroking his cheek right below his eye. His eyes fluttered close at your touch, leaning into your hand. Rex slowly and carefully laid down on top of you, slightly off to the side to not crush you under his weight.
It was his turn to nuzzle himself into you, hearing him inhale and feeling him smile against your skin. “So sweet…” Rex rumbled, pressing his lips to your neck. “Always so sweet for me…” You felt his body relax against yours, his large hand finding your smaller one.
“I love you too, mesh’la. No matter where I am in the galaxy.”
You both lay there, tangled in one another, enjoying the quiet calm of the morning before you or Rex were called back to reality. The caf sat at your bedside tables, getting cold as you let yourselves be lost in one another.
It was a small slice of paradise, a glimpse of a peaceful life you could hopefully have one day, and you were going to enjoy every second of it.
Taglist: @crosshairlovebot @sev-on-kamino @kimiheartblade @wizardofrozz @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @kashasenpai @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @secretthegriffin @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @secondaryrealm @littlemissmanga @coraex @maybethatfanfictionwriter @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @sleepingsun501 @cw80831 @dangraccoon @mythical-illustrator @din-miller
Dividers by @freesia-writes (Rex) and @saradika
#captain Rex x reader#captain Rex x you#captain Rex#rex x reader#captain Rex fanfiction#captain Rex tcw#rex tcw#tcw fanfiction#clone x reader#the clone wars#the clone wars fanfiction#starrycatwrites#star wars#Star Wars fanfiction#x reader
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Every Clone Legion needs a general in charge of his dumbasses :3 Eka'rulle is the jedi general of Kick, Boxer and Isle ^^
(feat Kit Fisto and his abs - the most handsome Nautolan out there)
Alright, now back to drawing clones
#star wars the clone wars#the clone wars#tech x reader#crosshair x reader#rex x reader#captain rex x reader#echo x reader#fives x reader#star wars celebration#tcw#tbb#tbb x reader#clone wars#star wars#clone wars fanfiction#clone wars fanfic#clone wars fic#tcw fanfiction#tcw fanfic#tcw fic#Kit Fisto#art#digital art#artists on tumblr#shirtless
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breakeven
NOTES: this is specifically written for the clone wars' characterization of anakin.
WARNINGS: verbal fighting | a little angst no comfort | no use y/n | anakin making you feel indebted | commander!reader.
“You can’t think you can control my every move, I’m not your padawan, I’m not Ahsoka—!“
TCW!ANAKIN SKYWALKER's finger points in your face, “Do not bring her into this.”
There he goes again, ordering you around. “Stop telling me what to do!”
“I am your commanding officer, I outrank you. I understand you don’t come from a military background—“
You scoff, shoving his hand out of your way. “Neither do you!”
“Well, at least I’ve learned to respect my elders!”
“I’m older than you!”
“I mean—“ he falters, clearly caught off guard, scrambling for a witty response. “I meant, more experienced— you know what I mean!”
“I’m tired of how you micromanage me, like you can’t trust me to make decisions for myself. For the good of you, for the good of the mission—“
“Forgive me for my oversight when I was the one that plucked you from ruin, Commander, you were in the gutters when I found you. I gave you a job, a life. Like it or not, your respect is an obligation.”
Your countenance visibly shifts, taken aback by his most obvious expectation. As if you’d be worse off if he hadn’t lent a gracious hand, and deciding you owe him for it.
He blinks at himself, a certain surprise on his features mirroring yours, absorbing your shock. “I…” he begins, “I don’t know why I said that.”
“Well, it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? I’m done.” your tone, uncharacteristically defeated, descends in volume as you gather your things.
#indy: drabbles#ch: tcw!anakin#anakin skywalker drabble#tcw!anakin skywalker#tcw fanfic#the clone wars fanfic#star wars fanfic#angst no comfort#anakin skywalker x gn!reader#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x gn!reader angst#anakin skywalker x reader angst#reader insert#the clone wars fanfiction#tcw fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#anakin skywalker x you#anakin x reader#anakin x you#commander!reader#angst
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KISS IT BETTER
REX X READER
Rex’s feelings for you have been steadily growing for a while now, but he believes they’re his own burden to bear. When he gets injured, he thinks you might feel the same. When you get injured, he knows for certain.
genre: fluff, hurt/comfort
warnings: blood and injury
word count: 2,600
a/n: this wip has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I finally got around to finishing it. I’m excited to be writing again!
Rex’s affection is a slow, steady thing. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, not when he leads the rest of his life with such level headed strength, but it does. He doesn’t notice the way it settles into the cradle of his ribs, the way it blinks into existence. It falls into place like the stars after a sunset, small bursts of light piercing the dark a handful at a time until there is no question that the sky is full—near bursting.
The sun seems to set quicker each time Rex sees you, the stars in his heart brighter with every passing day. If it weren’t for his practiced composure and unwavering respect for your position on the Resolute, that affection just might spill out of him, tearing him apart at the seams, his body alone no longer enough to contain his feelings.
But his emotions are his own, and you haven’t asked, nor offered, to help bear them.
You’re a medic on the Resolute, one of the few faces onboard that doesn’t match all the others on the Star Destroyer. That distinction alone was enough to spark gossip among the men when you were first assigned to work alongside the 501st.
Rex didn’t think much of it at the time. Gossip rarely holds weight, and he’s never put any stock in it. A new medic, nat-born or clone, is simply something the 501st was in need of. He didn’t think much of the matter beyond the benefit of having additional hands in the medbay. Maybe he would have paid more attention to the gossip if he had met you before the talk died down. It wasn’t until later, after a particularly rough skirmish that left more men than he felt comfortable with on bed rest, that Rex finally met you.
You were bouncing around between beds, checking in with the men still on bed rest, when he first saw you. Easy smile, mellow mannered, kind—these are the things about you that stood out to Rex.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Captain,” you greeted as you stepped by him. Of course you already knew of him. His position on the Resolute made it near impossible to not be involved in at least some rumors, just as your status as a non clone made you stand out.
“Likewise,” he said, the word feeling oddly heavy on his tongue. He had no way of knowing at the time that the first seeds of attraction were already starting to take root. Admiration and attraction can feel a lot alike in their early stages. Maybe it was a mix of both that caused words to fail him.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” you asked, pausing what you were doing to give Rex your full attention, gaze boring into him with an unexpected weight—like a tractor beam pulling him into your eyes. The steady hold of your gaze was nearly too much to handle. Rex dragged his own eyes away from you then, choosing instead to take in the scene around him, needing a distraction. Most of the beds were full, but enough time had passed since the skirmish that all of the men still in the medbay were stable, and many almost ready to leave.
“I just wanted to check in on them,” Rex said, nodding at the beds behind you.
“Of course.” You smiled.
The interaction was brief. You had things to do, and Rex wasn’t in the medbay just to see you—that would come later. But, despite the brevity of the meeting, it was enough for him to get a sense of who you are, enough for you to wiggle your way into his heart—just a little.
Rex’s affection is a slow, steady thing. By the time he finally realizes just how much of him you really hold, it is too late to change course.
—♡—
The blood spills from his side slowly. Ever-slipping time allowed the wound to begin clotting, but it’s too big, too deep to heal fully on its own. The blood sticks to his blacks, the still wet stain difficult to see on the already dark colored cloth.
He was hit by a piece of shrapnel during the last battle. An exploding tank sent pieces of the vehicle and broken droids his way. For the most part, he managed to escape injury, but something managed to nick his side in one of the places his armor fails to cover. Only his now ruined blacks stood between the shrapnel and his skin.
It will hurt to pull the fraying fabric from torn flesh, but when the time comes, he will grit his teeth and bear it. Rex has been through worse, no doubt, and he surely will again in the future. It’s why he waited to seek out treatment. There are others who need it more, those who might not survive without immediate attention. He doesn’t want to be a hindrance when doing so could harm others.
Instead of seeking out a medic, he distracts himself. He focuses on what can be done, takes steps that will result in the closest thing to a positive outcome after a battle. He doesn’t expect a medic to seek him out, especially not you.
You walk over to him without hesitation, like you’re singularly focused on reaching him, and Rex wouldn’t be surprised if that was true. The scowl tugging at the corner of your lip and creasing your brow, an unfamiliar expression on your usually smiling face, is aimed directly at him. He has never seen you angry like this before. Even with the harsh look that will inevitably be accompanied by a scolding when you reach him, the sight of you sends his world spinning.
Maybe he lost more blood than he thought.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You speak as you approach.
“My job,” he responds. This whole conversation seems wrong. While your question was delivered with a tone that made the words sound more like a scolding, his own statement, which should have held an assurance fitting for a Captain, sounds unsure.
“Kix mentioned you might be injured,” you say. Rex’s hand raises to his side in reflex, cradling the air above his injury but not making contact with the laceration beneath. You hum knowingly, stepping closer to get a better look.
You swat Rex’s hand aside as you bend down, taking in the injury without actually touching the wound. It’s difficult to see the full extent of what happened with Rex’s blacks still in the way, but the still wet blood soaking into the fabric tells you plenty.
“I wish you had come to me,” you admonish, pulling out a medkit from your pack. The supplies are reduced from when the battle started—Rex tries not to linger on the implications of that reduction.
“I had things that needed to get done, just as I’m sure you did.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” You pause what you're doing, looking him in the eye while you talk, as if doing so can make your words sink in. There’s a pained look in your eyes as you speak, like the thought of him being injured makes you hurt with him. It's a look you hide well, but Rex still catches the way you seem to bite your tongue to keep from saying something more.
You turn your focus back to the injury, setting out to do what you can to ensure it heals as thoroughly and efficiently as possible. If you were petty, you just might tug a little harder than necessary while pulling the fabric of his ruined blacks from the wound. You might use more force than needed to eject the stim into his system, or press the bacta patch onto his skin a little firmer than the adhesive calls for. You would remind him of why it’s important to seek out medical treatment as soon as possible. Maybe next time he would come see you sooner.
Instead, you’re gentle with the gash.
You may be unhappy about the fact that Rex got injured, but you’re disinclined to make him hurt anymore than he already does. You can understand why he avoided seeking medical attention, that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it—not when, of all people, Rex is the one who is hurting.
“Please try to be careful,” you say as you finish. You stand up, looking him in the eye once more. Your next words slip out before you can stop them. It’s a quiet, almost confession. “I hate seeing you hurt.”
Before Rex can respond, you step away, off to hunt down others who tried their best to avoid medical attention. Rex is left to wonder if your words were said as a medic, or as something from the heart, something personal. His cheeks warm at the thought.
Is it wrong for him to hope for more?
—♡—
“KARK!” The expletive is followed by a series of quieter grumbles and moans. You pull your hand from the drawer to cradle near your chest, eyes burning with unshed tears as you attempt to take in the damage.
Blood bubbles up from your palm, welling for just a moment before spilling over. It drips down your wrist and onto the once sterile floor below.
“Who in Sith Hells keeps a vibroblade with the notepads?” You grumble.
“Surely not a medic.” You startle despite the familiarity of the voice, turning around to see who has entered the medbay. Rex is taking your hand in his own before you fully process who is standing beside you. His touch is gentle against the delicate skin, his calloused hand nearly as warm as the now throbbing wound on yours. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you say. “Nothing a little bacta and a bandage can’t fix.”
He doesn’t seem to believe you, his frown deepening as you brush off the cut like it’s nothing. Despite the guilt that settles in your gut for being the cause of his displeasure, your cheeks warm at the thought of his concern.
“Can I help you? Will you let me?” He is already herding you towards one of the beds, guiding you to sit on the edge so that he can gather the necessary supplies. You sigh, not wanting to trouble him any more than you already have, but concede.
“Fine. But clean your hands,” you demand before telling him where the necessary supplies are kept.
Rex does as you say without a fuss.
“Are you sure you don’t need stitches?” he asks, brows furrowing as he takes in the wound. He doesn't shy away, used to seeing much worse on a regular basis. It makes your heart sink to think about how much he has seen—how much he has lost.
“Yes, fortunately. The bacta will be enough.”
Rex works silently, apologizing when you hiss at the touch of bacta to the wound but not breaking his concentration from the task at hand. He works with the diligence of a soldier. With his attention directed solely on your injured hand, you are given a chance to admire him.
It’s a habit that started the first time you met him and has only gotten worse with time. You had heard about the Captain of the 501st. His loyalty unwavering, his mind steady and well balanced while his General is so fond of taking risks. You didn’t expect the softened look in his brown eyes. Falling for him was easy.
“Hey Rex, did you need something from the medbay?” you ask, needing something to distract yourself from his steady hands, from the slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, from his singular focus on you—even if it is just because you’re injured.
“Hmm?” He looks up for the first time since he started treating the wound. It’s fully bandaged now, and the pain has all but subsided thanks to the soothing cool of bacta. “Kix said you were in here.”
His eyes flick away from yours and he clears his throat. It’s not the first time he’s sought you out in the medbay for the simple reason of enjoying your company, but still the decision seems to leave him embarrassed.
He switches the topic before you can respond.
“You need to be careful. How can you patch me up if you don’t have any hands to work with?” Rex jokes, a small smile stretching across his lips, eyes gleaming.
“You know I’m always careful. Of the two of us, you’re the reckless one.”
You reach out to shove his shoulder, laughing as you do. There isn’t any strength behind it, it’s just a teasing gesture, but you reach out with your injured hand. The aching sting of a cut sets your nerves alight immediately, and you hiss as you pull the hand back to your chest. The bandage holds strong, no blood leaking through, but that doesn’t stop the pain.
Rex pulls the hand back to him, his grip feather light as he traces the edges of the bandage. His brow furrows in concern and it takes an effort not to reach out and smooth the evidence of his worry. You can’t help but think: It’s the perfect spot to place a kiss.
“Does it hurt a lot?” He asks, growing serious again.
“Just a little.” The thought of kissing Rex must still be stuck in your brain because, before you can stop the words from slipping out, you add, “Maybe you can kiss it better?”
Rex’s eyes go comically wide, lips parting but no words coming out. Your words surprised him, more than either of you thought possible. You go to pull away, to come up with some excuse about why he doesn’t have to. You try to think of a way to tell him that you didn’t mean it like that (you did), and that he can just forget about it. It was a joke (it wasn’t). The two of you could laugh it off. But Rex’s mind catches up with your request before you can brush it away.
He takes your hand, still cradled gently in his own, and presses his lips to a spot on your palm that wasn’t sliced open by the vibroblade. They linger there for just a moment before he pulls back, keeping your hand by his heart.
You haven’t offered to help bear the weight of Rex’s feelings for you, but your question is a request for him to see your own, and a hope that he might reciprocate. He can hardly believe it to be true.
He needs to be sure.
Rex brings a hand up to your cheek, his fingers barely brushing against the skin there, and it's your turn to be left in shock. Eyes wide, lips parted, a mirror of Rex just moments ago.
“Does it feel better?” he asks. He leans in closer, merely waiting for permission to kiss you properly.
“I don’t know. I think you should try it again.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s all the answer he needs.
Rex’s hand finds a proper place against your cheek, and then he kisses you. His lips are soft against your own, and any worries either of you might have had slip away.
The kiss is short and sweet, merely testing the waters, but it’s enough to leave you in a daze. You’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time. You wonder if he has wanted it for just as long (you think, maybe, he has).
You hum, a smile growing wide across your lips, and say, “I’m definitely feeling better now.”
#rex x reader#rex x you#rex x y/n#captain rex x reader#captain rex x you#rex x gn!reader#the clone wars fanfiction#tcw fanfiction
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Hello! I'm a people pleaser by nature, so I have a tendency to do and do and do for others with little regard to my own mental health and well-being. I tend to burn out a lot, but I try to ignore it and keep pressing on even though I know I need to stop and take some time for myself. I've had others try to tell me to stop, to slow down and take some time for self-care, but I keep falling back into that same vicious cycle. I think I need a good, stern talking-to from our kind clone medic Kix to set me straight. I hope that anyone else that struggles with people pleasing and burnout can find comfort in this as well. :>
You were practically falling asleep standing. More work needed to be done. You'd promised to see this through and help out where you could.
Kix's voice was firm but gentle. "Have a seat."
"I'm almost done here," you said, rousing yourself enough to barely function.
"No," he countered. "Now."
You turned around with knitted eyebrows, almost indignant that he would insist like this. Kix looked at you calmly and gestured to the sofa. You took a breath and sat.
"You're doing too much," he insisted. He paced in front of you, hands behind his back. "What are you doing? Describe it to me."
You wanted to roll your eyes, but knew what he was getting at.
"I'm trying to help. I'm doing too much and I'm burned out."
"Why do you keep doing this?" he asked. "You keep going in this cycle to your own detriment. I'm worried about you."
He stopped packing and knelt in front of you as he took your hands in his. He took a breath before continuing.
"Look, I don't know how to help you. You keep repeating the same cycle. Maybe you should talk to someone about forming new habits. About why you keep falling into this trap."
"I'll think about it."
He sat down next to you and pulled you into his arms for a hug.
"That's all I'm asking," he said. "And don't get grumpy when I point out when you do this again. I don't want you more burned out. New habits take time to form, but you actually have to form them. Value yourself enough to be nicer to yourself."
You nodded and leaned into the hug and then looked up at him.
"Would you ever expect me to do what you put yourself through?" he asked.
"Of course not," you replied.
"Then why is it okay for you to do this to yourself?"
"I guess it's not," you said.
"No guessing about it!" he declared. "If it's not a level of work you'd expect from me or one of your friends, then you can give yourself some grace."
You sat silently for awhile. He really wasn't going to let it go this time. Things would have to change, but you knew it was for the best. Kix rubbed your back and kissed your forehead. It was all from a place of love.
#kix x reader#kix anon#clone medic kix x reader#tcw#tcw fanfiction#the clone wars#the clone wars fanfiction#reader insert#kix#clone kix#clone trooper kix#clone medic kix
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