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mikuluvu · 6 months ago

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A/N: GUYS HERE IT IS!!! MY FIRST COD X READER!! BASICALLY, THIS A TF141 X READER! OMG I LOVED THIS.

TF141 X ASSASIN!READER

Lasswell sent them to get Intel from you... Or did she just want to make the team introduce you?

Price adjusted his cap, scanning the perimeter with a sharp eye. Soap stood beside him, muttering under his breath while Gaz and Ghost remained close, weapons ready.

“Intel says she’s here,” Gaz said, voice low. “Lasswell wants her alive and... cooperative.”

“She’s an assassin, Gaz, not a lost puppy,” Ghost muttered.

“Stay sharp,” Price commanded. “If half the things Lasswell said about her are true, we’ll need every edge we can get.”

Lasswell had briefed them earlier: Y/N, codename ‘Viper’. A one-woman army.

But what Lasswell hadn’t mentioned was your flair.

The team breached the building silently, fanning out. The place was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of jazz playing somewhere deeper inside. Ghost signaled, and the team moved towardbwhere the music is coming from.

When they entered the main hall, you were already waiting—lounging comfortably in an armchair, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other playing lazily with a combat knife.

“Well, well, well…” you purred, a smirk dancing across your lips. “You know, boys, if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just called.”

Soap stiffened, his hand instinctively tightening around his rifle. Price raised an eyebrow, and Gaz looked downright confused. Ghost simply stared.

“Y/N,” Price said cautiously. “We’re here for the intel. No need for this to get messy.”

You tilted your head, studying them with an amused glint in your eyes. “But messy is so fun, Captain.”

Before any of them could react, the lights cut out. A rush of movement, a flurry of expertly thrown smoke grenades, and in under five minutes… The 4 of them found themselves tied to sturdy chairs, weapons confiscated (dont ask me how lol)

When the lights flickered back on, you stood before them, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with yourself.

“Oh, boys, you make this too easy.”

Soap struggled against his restraints. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking. Four of us, a single woman did all of this?”

You sauntered over to him, leaning close enough for him to smell your perfume. “Correction, sweetheart. One very talented woman.”

Gaz sighed. “Lasswell’s gonna love this.”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed. You put it on speaker. “Lasswell, darling, you’ve really got to send me a better challenge next time.”

Lasswell’s laughter echoed through the phone of the speaker. “I should’ve warned them about your… style, Y/N. But you’ve made your point. Let them go. And behave.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. You’re no fun, Kate.”

With a few swift movements, their restraints fell away. Ghost rubbed his wrists, muttering something under his breath.

“Now, now,” you cooed. “No hard feelings, right?”

Price stood, brushing dust off his coat. “You’re quite the woman, aren’t ya’?”

You walked over to a side table, pouring four glasses of whiskey and handing one to each of them. “Come on, Captain. You can’t say you didn’t enjoy this little encounter of ours?.”

Soap accepted his glass, cheeks slightly flushed as you winked at him. Gaz cleared his throat awkwardly when you leaned against his chair, tracing a finger along his shoulder.

“And you,” you turned to Ghost, stepping into his space. “I bet you’re all broody under that mask, but I know you were impressed.”

Ghost didn’t flinch, but the slight shift of his shoulders gave him away.

“So, what now?” Price asked, sipping his whiskey.

You raised your glass with a sly smile. “Now? You tell Lasswell you couldn’t catch me, I give you your intel, and you admit that I’m the most charming asset you’ve ever met.”

The team exchanged glances before Price chuckled, raising his glass. “To Viper—may we never end up on your bad side again.”

You clinked glasses with them, satisfaction radiating from your smirk.

“Careful, Captain,” you purred. “Flattery might just make me keep you all tied up next time.”

Soap nearly choked on his drink while Gaz muttered something about needing a vacation. Ghost simply turned away, but even behind the mask, you could feel the smirk he was hiding.

You leaned casually against the table, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. “Well, boys, it’s been fun playing cat and mouse, but I think it’s time we move to more civilized activities, don’t you think?”

Soap raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you suggestin’, lass?”

You smirked, setting your glass down with a soft clink. “Dinner. My treat.”

Gaz blinked. “Dinner? Like… food?”

“No, Gaz, like target practice,” Ghost said dryly, earning a chuckle from Price.

You clapped your hands together. “Come on, gentlemen. I’ve already proven I could’ve killed you four times over by now, but instead, I tied you up and gave you whiskey. That’s practically an invitation to be friends.”

Price gave you a long look before sighing. “Alright, lass. But if you try anything—”

You interrupted with a cheeky grin. “Oh, Captain, if I wanted to try anything, you’d already know.”

Soap let out a low whistle while Ghost shook his head, muttering something unintelligible.

An Hour Later

The makeshift dining area wasn’t anything fancy—just an old wooden table you’d scavenged, set with mismatched chairs and dim overhead lighting. But you’d managed to pull together a surprisingly decent spread: steak, roasted vegetables, and a fresh loaf of bread.

Soap stared at his plate. “Not gonna lie… didn’t expect this from a … assassin.”

You poured red wine into Price’s glass and winked. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Price raised his glass slightly. “I’ll admit, Y/N, this is… unexpected.”

“Unexpected can be good, Captain.” You slid into the seat at the head of the table, glass in hand. “You boys are too used to constant firefights and rations. Let a girl spoil you for one night.”

Gaz took a bite, eyes going wide. “Okay… this is actually good.”

You smirked. “Don’t sound so surprised, darling. I’m not just good at breaking necks and slipping away unseen.”

Ghost, who had been quiet most of the evening, finally spoke up. “How’d you and Lasswell got close anyway?”

You took a sip of your wine, eyes glinting with fondness. “Kate and I go way back. Long before I became… this. She’s one of the few people I trust.”

The table went quiet for a moment, the weight of your words settling over the group.

As the night went on, the conversation flowed with laughter, banter, and stories shared between bites of food and sips of wine. You fit in surprisingly well, your sharp wit bouncing effortlessly off Soap’s charm, Gaz’s casual humor, and even Ghost’s dry sarcasm.

Price leaned back in his chair as the meal came to an end, eyeing you with something akin to respect. “You know, Y/N… for someone Lasswell sent us to handle, you’re not half bad.”

You raised your glass one last time. “And for a bunch of world-class soldiers who got themselves tied to chairs by one woman… you’re not half bad either.”

You stood by the warehouse doors, arms crossed, watching them prepare to leave.

But… you weren’t quite done with them yet.

“Leaving so soon, boys?” you said, stepping forward with a sly smile. “No proper goodbye?”

Soap chuckled, running a hand through his mohawk. “What, you want a hug or somethin’, bonnie?”

You stepped up to him, tilting your head slightly as your fingers traced the edge of his vest. “Oh, Johnny… I was thinking something a little more memorable.”

Before he could respond, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t long, but it was enough to leave Soap blinking in stunned silence, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

“Careful now,” you purred. “Don’t go falling for me.”

Gaz let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s… one way to say goodbye.”

You turned to him next, stepping close enough for him to feel your breath against his cheek. “And you, Sergeant Garrick… don’t think you’re getting off so easily.”

You placed a gentle kiss on Gaz’s lips, your hand lingering briefly on his chest before you pulled away with a smirk. Gaz stammered for a second, rubbing the back of his neck while Soap laughed at him.

Ghost shifted awkwardly in the background, arms crossed. You turned your attention to him, your grin widening.

“Oh, Ghost,” you cooed, walking toward him. “Don’t tell me you’re shy under all that black gear.”

You stopped just inches away, your gloved fingers lightly tracing along the edge of his mask. “May I?”

He hesitated for a brief moment before giving you a subtle nod. Slowly, you lifted the mask just enough to expose his lips, and without another word, you leaned in. The kiss was brief but surprisingly tender, and when you pulled back, you lowered his mask with a teasing smile.

“There now… that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ghost said nothing, but the way his head dipped slightly told you enough.

Finally, you turned to Captain Price. He stood there, hold the straps on his body, his muscles bulging, watching you with an unreadable expression beneath the brim of his cap.

“Well, Captain,” you said softly, stepping right into his space. “What about you?”

Price’s voice was low, gravelly. “You’ve had your fun, Y/N. Don’t push it.”

But you didn’t back down. Instead, your hand came up to rest lightly against his chest. “Come on, Captain… you’re not scared of me, are you?”

Price let out a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You’re a damn menace, you know that?”

You grinned. “And yet, you can’t resist.”

Before he could say another word, you closed the distance between you. The kiss started slow—hesitant, almost cautious—but it didn’t stay that way for long. Price’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss as he stepped a little forward.

Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his coat as the kiss grew more intense, filled with a mix of tension, curiosity, and something neither of you wanted to name. When you finally pulled away, both of you were slightly breathless.

“Well, Captain,” you said softly, your lips curling into a wicked smile. “That was… thorough.”

Price stepped back, adjusting his hat and clearing his throat. “Right. Enough of that.”

Soap and Gaz were wide-eyed, while Ghost turned slightly away as if trying to give the two of you privacy—though you were fairly certain he was smirking under that mask.

“Well, gentlemen,” you said, stepping back into the shadows. “It’s been a pleasure… in many ways.”

Price gave you one final look, his voice steady. “Until next time, Y/N.”

You blew them a playful kiss as they walked out into the night, their silhouettes fading into the darkness.

Once they were gone, you leaned against the wall, a satisfied smirk on your face.

“Oh, Lasswell’s definitely going to hear about this one.”

The team sat in the briefing room around a table. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional throat-clearing or the sound of someone shifting uncomfortably in their seat.

Price sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, hat pulled low. Soap was slouched in his chair, staring very intently at the table surface as if it might provide him with answers. Gaz fidgeted with his pen, and Ghost… well, Ghost was Ghost��silent, arms crossed, but the tips of his ears, barely visible under the edge of his mask, were suspiciously red.

The holo-screen flickered to life, and Lasswell’s face appeared. She looked far too amused.

“Well, gentlemen,” Lasswell said smoothly, her lips twitching upward. “I got Y/N’s report. It was… unbelievable.” she snorted

Price sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “Lasswell, if you’re about to—”

“Oh no, Captain,” Lasswell cut him off, her grin spreading wider. “I wouldn’t dare tease Task Force 141. The most elite squad in the world. The same squad that was tied to chairs, kissed silly, and left flustered in an abandoned warehouse by one very charming assassin.”

Soap groaned, burying his face in his hands. “For the love of—Lasswell, please.”

Gaz muttered, “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Ghost shifted in his seat but said nothing. The slight tilt of his head told everyone he was definitely embarrassed.

Lasswell continued, tapping her chin in mock thought. “Let’s see… Soap, you went all wide-eyed and blushy. Gaz, you couldn’t even form a proper sentence after your little moment. Ghost—oh, Ghost—let her lift your mask? My, my, what trust!”

Ghost’s head snapped up slightly, but he said nothing, arms crossing even tighter over his chest.

“And Captain Price.” Lasswell’s smirk turned downright wicked. “Oh, Captain. You didn’t just get a kiss, did you? No, no… You got the full VIP treatment.”

Soap choked on his coffee. Gaz’s eyes went wide. Ghost let out an audible sigh.

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we done here, Kate?”

Lasswell leaned closer to the screen, “Just one last thing, Captain—Y/N said, and I quote, ‘Tell Price I’ll be dreaming about that kiss tonight.’”

The room fell into stunned silence. Soap wheezed, Gaz stared at the screen like it might explode, and even Ghost let out a low, muffled snort.

Price’s face remained stoic, but the faintest tinge of pink crept up his neck. “Right. Briefing’s over. Dismissed.”

Soap practically bolted from his chair, muttering something about needing “a moment.” Gaz followed, shaking his head and mumbling, “I’ll never recover from this.” Ghost got up wordlessly, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

As they filed out, Lasswell’s voice echoed from the screen. “Oh, don’t worry, boys. Y/N sends her love.”

The screen flickered off, leaving Price alone in the room. He let out a long, exhausted sigh and leaned back in his chair.

“Bloody assassin.”

But despite himself, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

A/n: I had to make you and price make out... Your welcome <3

Thanks for reading! Reblogs w/comments is appreciated. You can support me by donating 1 dolla dolla on my ko-fi

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nicorobinohara · 5 months ago

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The Meeting of Minds.

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-Aunt scientist of Senku-

(OC-seiko)

Part 1:

It was heavy inside Xeno Houston Wingfield's underground hiding place. The dim light of the lamps cast shadows on the stone walls, illuminating the serious faces of the soldiers under his command. In the center of the enclosure, attached to a chair and tied firmly, was Gen Asagiri.

Despite the unfavorable situation, the mentalist still maintained his characteristic smile, although his eyes showed a slight discomfort.

- Ugh... this is too tight. - He complained, twisting his wrists inside the ties. - If you want a civilized conversation, Xeno, tying up your guest is not the best way to start.

Xeno, who was calmly reviewing some notes about the rocket project, looked up at Gen, but before he could answer, something changed in the environment.

A sound.

Low. Quick. I need it.

Stanley, who was next to Xeno, raised the gun in an instant, his sharp senses detecting the subtle movement coming from the corridor. But before he could react completely, one of the guards fell to the ground with a deaf thud.

Xeno narrowed his eyes. This was not a common attack.

The other soldiers took out their improvised weapons, but then, before they could do anything, a figure emerged from the darkness, moving with surgical precision.

It was a woman.

His hair was identical to Senku Ishigami's, but it was stuck in two forward braids, framing his face impeccably. His eyes, of the same golden hue, shone in the light of the lamp with an analytical intensity.

She wore practical clothes for exploration and fieldwork, and the posture indicated that she was not a simple adventurer - every step she took was calculated, efficient.

Gen blinked when he saw her.

- Oh, finally, my savior arrives!

Xeno kept his expression neutral, but his mind was working at a thousand per hour.

- You must be Seiko. - He said, already deducing her identity.

She smiled slightly, without taking her eyes off him.

- And you must be Xeno Houston Wingfield.

The scientist crossed his arms, evaluating her.

- A woman of multiple specialties, they say. Scientist, engineer, mathematician, apothecary and also with practice in medicine. It seems too good to be true.

- For a man who built a civilization from scratch, you should be more used to dealing with prodigies. - Seiko countered, taking another step forward.

Stanley kept the gun pointed at her, but Xeno raised a hand, signaling him to wait.

- Did you come alone? - He asked, intrigued.

Seiko tilted her head slightly.

- Are you implying that I would need an army to get Gen out of here?

Xeno let out a soft laugh.

- Interesting.

It was the only warning he gave before moving forward.

Seiko noticed his movement at the same moment. Xeno was not only a scientist - his brilliant mind was also accompanied by an impressive physical capacity. He tried to grab her wrist to immobilize her, but Seiko already foresaw this movement and deviated, turning her body with agility.

Her counterattack was accurate. With a slight movement, he pressed a specific point on Xeno's arm, causing an involuntary reflex that made him let go of his attempt to grab her.

Stanley finally shot, but Seiko had already pulled Gen away, dodging the shots with an agile jump.

Xeno massaged his arm lightly, still feeling the impact of the pressure. He looked at Seiko with a curious glow in his eyes.

- You're not just theory. You know how to apply it in practice.

- It would be shameful to depend only on words when you live in a world without advanced technology. - She replied, already positioning herself near the exit.

Gen waved to Xeno with an amused smile.

- It was a lovely visit, but I think I prefer my freedom.

Before they could stop them, Seiko launched a small explosion of smoke - a chemical trick he created with apothecary herbs and minerals available in nature. The dense smoke filled the place, making everyone cough and lose their sight for a few seconds.

When the fog dissipated, Seiko and Gen had disappeared.

Stanley lowered the gun, grumbling.

- That was humiliating.

Xeno, however, didn't seem frustrated. On the contrary.

He looked at the point where Seiko had been moments before, a small smile appearing on his lips.

- Fascinating...

Stanley stared at him, skeptical.

- Don't tell me you liked her.

Xeno just adjusted his gloves and went back to his table.

- I would say it was a first impression... thought-provoking.

He knew that wouldn't be his last date with Seiko. And next time, I would be even more prepared to face her.

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Just an image of how seiko would be:

#dr stone #stanley snyder x reader #xeno wingfield #anime screenshot #anime fanfic #fanfic #dr stone senku #ishigami senku #senku x reader #senku x y/n #senku fanart #xeno houston wingfield #dr stone x reader #shishio tsukasa #dr stone x y/n

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therocketeer0501 · 5 months ago

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Emptiness Machine

Starscream X Reader (mech pilot AU)

Warnings/TW: blood, weapons, mention of torture, robot gore, human experimentation (shockwave is shockwave), language, and peril. (I’ll add more as I post)

(Author note: Before I get started I wanted to get a few things out of the way. This is my own AU and doesn’t really lend itself to much existing media. Gonna mash a few continuities together. This is in no way a professional writing by any means. I am not running it past a beta or anything so it’s going to be rough. I wanted to write this for myself and share it with y’all! This is my silly nonsense. That being said if I don’t clarify something or if something doesn’t make sense please submit an ask and I will promptly explain! Now without further ado. Here is the anticipated first chapter of Emptiness machine! Thank you all for waiting.)

Read first

Data log entry #857

Date: 003029 Time: 0700

Time since first contact: 2 years, 4 months, 7 days

What began as a national defense strategy became one of the most complex military operations in the history of the world. Project Archangel, founded by Dr. Zinovy Antonov, began under the pretense of creating the world’s first mechanized army. He started his research long before we found out we weren’t alone out here among the stars. With the arrival of the Cybertronian visitors came the fear that humanity was not only vastly outgunned, but also grossly unprepared to deal with any threat from deep space. Dr. Antonov pleaded with the government to allow him near the deactivated body of one of the Cybertronians, who was discovered after a battle had broken out between factions.

He studied their biology and created what he dubbed the perfect exoskeleton. Fueled by chemical X, also known as Energon, and operated by none other than the human soul itself. There weren’t many volunteers to undergo the rigorous training and testing that these pilots had to go through. But with the help of Cybertronian Autobot scientists, Project Archangel was finally given the green light to move forward. Only three pilots made it through the initial testing.

Pilot: Seraphim, Pilot: Uriel, and Pilot: Michael.

With their functioning mecha, these pilots were meant to assist the Autobot Cybertronians in keeping earth from being terraformed by the opposing Cybertronian facton, the Decepticons.

Which brings us to the present. We have had zero contact with the other faction known as the Decepticons until two months ago. The Autobots insisted we keep our distance and only deploy Project Archangel as a last resort. Keeping the humans out of the conflict was essential if they wanted to stay neutral in the eyes of the Decepticons. As far as we know, no Decepticon has ventured down to the planet’s surface from their airship Nemesis to interact with the population. Only sending drones to wreak havoc on areas rich in Chemical X.

However, in recent months, there have been sightings of Decepticon officers and scientists (identified by Autobot command) on the planet’s surface. It was decided that we bring Project Archangel out of the shadows and deploy them on a scouting mission alongside several Autobots. We only hope that we haven’t made a grave mistake.

Chapter 1

You let yourself be pulled through the spiral of light emanating from the ground bridge. Traveling via the alien tech was a feeling that no one could describe. The closest thing to it was like having a magnet in your chest be pulled faster than your brain could register before spitting you back out on the other side. It had taken many practice runs for you to not throw off your stabilizers and stick the landing. Though it still made you dizzy and a bit sick.

After landing behind Bee in a heavily wooded area, you quickly scan the trees for energy signatures. Your scanners were only programmed to detect the Decepticon drones and of course the energy signatures of your comrades. Bumblebee signaled for you to fall in behind him and you promptly obeyed. You could feel the way your heart pounded against your ribcage where your body rested snug inside the metal chest of your mech. Your consciousness flawlessly divided between the two bodies. One living metal, and one flesh. Energon flowed steady through your lines as you tried to calm the slight tremor of your hand that came with the rush of adrenaline.

Ahead you could see the energon mine in the waning light. A clearing with a large metal structure in the center. The two huge metal doors at the entrance had been blown wide open to reveal the tunnel that went deep inside the earth to extract the precious ore. The human sentries, once posted outside, were nowhere to be found. Vehicles were overturned and some still smoldered where they had been hit with plasma bolts. You switch to internal comms so you can communicate with Bee without anyone on the outside hearing.

“Second wave in twenty. Nineteen….”

You slowly count down the seconds until the others arrive so you can rush the structure together. Adjusting your grip on your rifle you study entrance trying to imagine just what awaited you inside. Clearly a monster. Looking to your left you see Bumblebee gripping his null ray, an uncharacteristically stoic look on his face. You had some form of friendship with all the autobots, but you were closest to the little yellow scout. Perhaps it was shared interest or the fact that he seemed more your age. Whatever the case, you had shared so many things with each other over the two ish years that you had been a part of Project Archangel. Only once did you ask him about his home.

He looked saddened at the question and at first you thought he wouldn’t answer you. But he did. You spent the better part of a day listening to how he didn’t know Cybertron before it had been nearly obliterated by the war. It had been a planet filled with culture, music, and arts. No factions to speak of. A united Cybertron. But then came the slow divide of the classes. The divide grew until there were only the obscenely wealthy, and those who had nothing. That’s when, from the pits of Kaon, came the leader of the Decepticon faction.

Megatron.

Bumblebee described him as charismatic and well spoken. Someone bots wanted to rally behind. Many of the Autobots started out as Decepticons in the early days of the war. Taking down the government brick by brick until nothing remained. When it came time to build a new government, Megatron wasn’t satisfied. He wanted all the bots and their families who dared oppress him gone. Obliterated until nothing was left. He ended up doing exactly that. This cost him many followers and eventually after many thousands of years, his home. He didn’t stop. Blaming the Autobots for the lack of energon and destruction on Cybertron.

With a dead world and nowhere to go, the Autobots turned to the libraries in what was left of Iacon. There they found records of worlds seeded with energon by the 13 original Primes. A failsafe in case something were to happen to Cybertron. Optimus Prime lead the remaining Autobots off world to look for a suitable new home. Of course Megatron followed. They tore their way through 11 uninhabited worlds while trying to find one that suited them best. Stripping the worlds of their energon before moving on to the next. Earth was the first seeded world to have intelligent life. Optimus made it his sole mission to keep that intelligent life from having to endure the horrors of the war they brought with them.

It was nearly impossible due to the ever present evil that lurked in the sky. The Nemesis, like a dark cloud, hung overhead when you looked up. What kind of monsters would tear apart their home just to make a point? You were about to find out. A ground bridge portal appeared nearly blinding her as she adjusted her optics to its harsh blue light. Four bots landed and immediately began sprinting towards the entrance. Your peds began to automatically move. The yellow scout close on your heels as the two of you followed your comrades inside. Drones swarmed around you the instant you broke the entrance. Inside you could see Cliffjumper, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and one of your brothers in arms Michael. His mech was a heavy class. Not very good at maneuvering but excellent at breaking things. Throwing a drone into a wall with the butt of your rifle, you turn to Bee and chuckle over comms.

“I was expecting more of a fight. This is a fairly average number of drones.”

He didn’t reply right away as he tried to pull a drone off of one of the lambo twins. You couldn’t tell which one because of the sheer number of bodies trying to suffocate the bot. Using your jump jets you propel yourself forward and into the pile sending a good number of the drones flying. They broke easily, not filled with much energon either. It made you wonder just how the Decepticons managed to manufacture so many drones while the Autobots controlled the energon. With the last of the drones dispatched, you look around and regroup with the others. Slowly you start moving further into the mine. Eventually it would open up into a huge cavern. It would be beautiful if not for the dread that had settled over the group like a thick fog. Suddenly your comm crackled to life as Sideswipe replied to your earlier comment in Bumblebee’s stead.

“We’ll get a good fight eventually. These tin cans are just the appetizer for the main course. It’s confirmed, Shockwave is here. I’ve been itching to dig my fist into that lone optic of his.”

He emphasized his excitement by sending his fist into the shoulder of his brother. The golden bot gave him a sour look but didn’t retort like he normally would have. The energy of the Autobots had been stoic ever since it was confirmed that the first Decepticon on scene was Shockwave. You had no idea what to expect. You knew Shockwave was a scientist and known for his cruel and unusual experiments during the war on Cybertron. He created the most horrific weapons used in the Great War, so he must be someone to fear at the very least.

As you make your way down, you begin to hear a long drawn out noise. Almost like a squeaky door hinge but amplified, bouncing off the walls of the mine shaft. Then there was the screaming. You had wondered what happened to the sentries who were stationed outside. Now you knew. A deep voice rumbled from up ahead. It was cold, unfeeling, and filled you with dread.

“Test 8 unsuccessful. Most illogical. Send another.”

There was that horrible sound like metal rending and then another shriek cut short. Before a sigh of resignation came from nearby. It wasn’t Shockwave who made the noise of dissatisfaction. Another Decepticon. Your heart pounded as you look over at your fellow bots to see if they heard the same thing you did. If their wide optics were any indication, they had. Two Decepticons. Not just one. You listened closely as the other bot seemed to pace back and forth in front of the opening to the cavern. You and your companions were split on either side of the entrance, listening but not yet entering the space.

The other Decepticon doesn’t speak and suddenly he goes eerily silent. It made your hair stand on end and you almost felt like you were being watched. Could Decepticons see through reinforced steel? You shook your helm at the thought. No way. But after a heartbeat he said something that had your heart in your throat.

“Shockwave wrap it up. We aren’t alone.”

Cliffjumper growled into his comm in recognition of the voice.

“Spinster. He’s going to be trouble.”

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redtsundere-writes · 2 months ago

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Chapter 33: Humans

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

More Info.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

They hadn't even been engaged for a week, and Sukuna was already convinced he lost you. The night before, you'd refused to sleep in his arms, and at dawn, he woke up alone in the huge, empty bed. He had to do something, fast.

He dressed quickly and went straight to the courtyard, sure to find you training. But you weren't there. The surprise was so great that began to grow in his chest. Although his stomach craved food, he decided to search for you throughout the castle. Every corner. Every hallway. Nothing. This was bad. Very bad.

You must have been avoiding him, hiding in some hidden corner, like he had before, when that vulnerability got the best of him. And then he wondered: Was that how you felt at that moment? So alone, so disoriented, lost within the cold walls of that old castle? Maybe... maybe he should give you space. With that thought in mind, he returned to the dining room, resigned to having breakfast without you. But there you were.

Sitting there, already dressed for the day, reviewing a document as if nothing had happened. Seeing him enter, you looked up and gave him a smile. Not just any smile, but one that, far from calming him, completely disconcerted him. Weren't you annoyed with him? Sukuna crossed the room silently, ignoring the bows of his subjects for having their full attention on you.

"Good morning, Sukuna," you greeted him with a smile.

"Where were you this morning?" He ignored your greeting, eager to know the truth.

"Writing the report you asked me." You arranged the papers and handed them to him with a bow.

"You weren't in the library, where were you?" Sukuna inquired.

"In the backyard, I wrote it while Choso was playing with the chickens," you explained.

Just then, Choso appeared from under the tablecloth with a mischievous smile, as if he were playing in the shadow of the table. You picked him up to signal him to sit properly in the presence of the king, a command he immediately obeyed.

"Chickens go buk, buk, buk," Choso clucked.

"Okay, Choso, and what sound piggies make?" you asked excitedly.

"Oink, oink!" Choso replied excitedly.

"At this age, they're like sponges; they memorize everything they hear, so watch your language," you asked Sukuna.

Sukuna didn't know what to say. An unexpected warmth welled up in his chest, spreading like a slow fire. He didn't understand what it was exactly, but he knew it wasn't something trivial. It was similar, perhaps, to the shudder he felt that time he saw you with that first dress, so beautiful it hurt to look at you. But this… this was different. Much more intense. Deeper. As if something inside him had been ripped out and, at the same time, healed. Without taking his eyes off you, Sukuna slowly sank back into his chair, as if he feared your words were a cruel joke.

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I'm still upset that you indirectly called me disgusting," you answered directly. Some servants looked at each other as if to say, "Did you hear what she said?"

"So you don't love me anymore?" Sukuna asked pessimistically.

"What? Why do you think that?" you asked, confused.

"Well... You seemed very disappointed yesterday." He raised an eyebrow.

"And it won't be the last time," you answered truthfully. "But it's normal. Couples argue all the time; it's part of being human. It's something you'll have to accept if you want this to work long-term. If you don’t want to deal with it, just kill me." You shrugged.

You knew perfectly well he would never apologize for what he'd said. Pride pierced his bones like a second skin. So this was the closest thing to an apology you could hope for.

You trusted he loved you. You knew it not from what he said, but from what he did when no one else was looking. He loved you so much that, even when he discovered you weren't perfect, that you weren't invulnerable, he still chose you. He was learning to truly love you, with every imperfection, every crack.

And if you were wrong... if that love didn't exist or faded into the shadows of his silence... well, you also had a plan. One you'd crafted carefully, painfully. A plan you prayed you wouldn't have to use.

"Do you trust me that much?" Sukuna asked, surprised by your unexpected request, but didn't show it.

"Since the first day."

"I trust your decision, my king." "Why?" “Because you always have the last word.” Sukuna remembered the day your paths crossed, during the harvest more than a year ago. Who would have imagined they would end like this, wrapped in such intimate stillness. Now he looked into your eyes as if everything he had ever unknowingly sought was hidden within them. As if you carried, with unconscious calm, the weight of his world. Warm and serene, your hand rested between his. With a delicacy unusual for him, he slowly raised it and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"You will never regret your decision," Sukuna promised you as he kissed the engagement ring.

You smiled at him. You clasped the knife you had hidden under the table with your other hand and put it back in the pocket of the dress. Luckily, today was not the day.

➽──────────────❥

You hadn't trained much with Mahito lately. Wedding preparations consumed your days, and you could barely catch a break. Besides, each session with him left your body in tatters; it was hard to justify so much pain amidst flower arrangements and menu tests. Yet, there you were, drenched in sweat, facing him once again.

This time they were training in close-range combat, and you'd chosen a wooden bow from the armory, sturdy enough to defend yourself, but not so lethal as to seriously injure Mahito. When he launched long-range attacks, you responded with swift and accurate arrows. But when he closed the distance, you turned the bow into a barrier, a makeshift shield to deflect the blows. Mahito never held back. Never. He fought with the same brutal intensity from the first second until your body decided to give up on you.

In the middle of the exchange, you saw him flinch slightly... and suddenly, he split in two. You didn't have time to think. One attacked from the front. The other appeared on your flank. You tried to take cover, but an unexpected kick caught you in the side. The air was knocked out of your lungs, and you tumbled to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust as you fell.

"You need to be faster to catch up to me," the real Mahito told you as his clone offered a hand to help you up.

"That's what I'm trying to do," you grunted, taking his hand.

You and the Mahitos felt the presence before you saw it. A new, different energy had just burst into the parade ground. It was Esou and Kechizu. You were still struggling to process it. You had children. And not just any kind of children: curses. It shattered everything you thought you knew, not just about yourself, but about the world itself. It was a strange, unnatural dynamic, considering how little you knew about curses. As far as you understood, they didn't have families. They didn't feel bonds like humans. They weren't born with ties; They were born of hatred, fear, pain.

And yet, there they were. You watched Esou and Kechizu closely, scanning them from head to toe. There was something about the way they stood together, the way they looked at you, that challenged the idea Kenjaku had taught you long ago. "Are they really as human as Sukuna?" you thought.

"Mommy!" Kechizu exclaimed as he ran up to you.

He extended his deformed arms, wrapping you in a huge hug. He took the wind out of you, unable to contain his emotion. He curled up to your small body like a giant dog that doesn't measure its own size and just wants to play.

"I can barely breathe," you told him, your voice breaking.

You shoved him hard in the chest, trying to push him away enough to catch your breath. Your lungs burned, compressed by the closeness, by the weight of the moment. But there was no time for more. Suddenly, without warning, Kechizu opened his mouth wide with the clear intention of swallowing you whole. A grotesque, brutal, instinctive act. Your body reacted before your mind: you delivered a precise blow to his lower jaw, forcing it to snap shut.

"That was a good punch, miss!" The Mahito brothers applauded proudly.

The impact knocked him back. He fell to the ground with a dull thud, like a disarmed beast. But he didn't stay down for long. Within seconds, Kechizu was back on his feet, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and bewilderment. As if he didn't fully understand why you had fought back.

"Little brother!" Esou ran to him to help him.

"That’s rough," the Mahito clone sneered.

"Why are you hitting him?! He just wanted to eat you!" Esou scolded you.

"I wasn't going to let him eat me!" You complained.

"But you're our mother, it's your obligation to feed us!" the curse argued.

You froze at that statement. Sukuna had brought these curses who had the desire to eat you, and surely he knew it. And yet, he gave them to you to care for as your children. Your hand tightened around the wooden bow. Frustration burned inside you, held back only by a shred of reason. You couldn't kill them. Not yet.

Sukuna needed information, and those creatures possessed it. If you killed them now, you could unleash consequences you weren't willing to face. You'd attract the attention of those best kept out of the loop, at least for now.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to think. If you couldn't kill them... you'd have to find another way to protect yourself. Something more cunning. More subtle. You couldn't afford to hesitate. In this game, the smallest mistake could cost you more than a wound.

"Are you hungry?" you asked them with a confident smile, holding the bow in front of you. "Fine, come to Mommy."

Esou and Kechizu grinned widely, like naughty children who thought you'd finally come to your senses. Without wasting a second, they launched themselves at you with open jaws, eager for a good bite. You decided to apply what Mahito had taught you.

You drew two arrows from your quiver in a single fluid motion. You aimed, not with absolute precision; it was impossible to focus on two targets at the same time, but you didn't need to. Not this time. You released the string. The arrows whistled through the air before plunging into their skulls with brutal force.

If Sukuna had taught you anything, it was to put your enemies in their place. To humiliate them so thoroughly that no one would dare cross that line again. You'd done it with Yorozu and Naoya. It wasn't your preferred method, but it was the most effective. The clearest.

Some of the cursed blood splashed over Mahito and his clone. Instantly, their skin began to blacken, slowly rotting where the liquid had touched it. "Do not come into contact with their blood," you engraved it in your mind.

Esou and Kechizu began to regenerate. Their skulls were reconstructing with grotesque slowness, a dance of flesh and bone that would have made anyone with lesser mettle vomit. You didn't wait for them to finish. You approached quickly and stealthily, the bow still in your hands. And when his eyes opened again, you lifted him up and hit him with all your weight, again and again, until the wood gave way with a sharp crack and broke between your fingers. It wasn't a defense. It wasn't a warning. It was a declaration.

"Mommy!" Kechizu whined between the blows. Esou was still collapsed on the floor.

"You can’t eat mommy. It's forbidden, did you hear me?" You demanded an answer.

"Yes, Mommy," Kechizu stammered, covering his head with his arms, clearly scared.

Conscience instantly consumed you at the sight of your poor son in a fetal position. Even though he had tried to eat you, you couldn't bring yourself to hurt him anymore. You threw the broken bow away and approached him slowly, careful not to let him bite you.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" you asked. Kechizu nodded fearfully as Esou regained his feet. “I’m sure Uraume can prepare something delicious for you.”

“It must be later. I’m already very busy preparing the test banquet, miss.” Uraume interrupted the conversation. “How come I never see when he arrives?” you wondered, surprised by their stealth. “I’m just here to let you know that the king has ordered Esou and Kechizu to come to his office.”

➽──────────────❥

Sukuna finished reading the report you had handed him that morning. Although the content didn't reveal information of high strategic value, it did offer something more valuable in the long run: understanding. You had explained in detail how the commune worked, its social structure, and its internal dynamics.

The central figure was the Judge. He not only mediated conflicts but also distributed tasks equitably for the commune's survival. In essence, he was the one who decided who did what. If someone refused to do their part, they weren't directly forced to do so… but the family received fewer resources. A subtle punishment, disguised as a natural consequence, kept everyone aligned under the idea of the common good.

The commune functioned like a large family. Everyone knew everyone else, and each person knew their respective roles. Within their barriers, they were a closed community, united by necessity and distrust of the outside world. They preferred to trust other humans, even if they didn't like each other, rather than a curse. That natural distrust made them secretive, reluctant to open up to strangers, and even less so to newcomers.

The report was full of useful details, but what really caught Sukuna's attention were the personal bits you'd included, almost unintentionally, as if you were still speaking from the place of someone who had once belonged to that world.

There was an anecdote about the time you mistook sugar for salt and ruined a stew, but your father ate it, pretending to like it, just to spare your feelings. Another recounted how you and Higuruma took care of a family of stray cats for several months. And, of course, the infamous story where you nearly broke Nagi's back defending your sister. That brought a short, dry, but genuine laugh to his lips.

There was an unexpected warmth to those stories. A humanity that Sukuna didn't believe inhabited you. Or rather, that he hadn't wanted to see. He carefully closed the report and put it away in his filing cabinet, as if it held more than just information. It was then that Esou and Kechizu entered the room, heads down, shuffling, and with an aura of shame that filled the air like a bad perfume.

"King, mommy is very mean!" Kechizu exclaimed, annoyed.

"She exploded our heads because we just wanted to eat her!" Esou complained.

"That's because they don't have the right to eat her." Sukuna growled. "She's exclusive to my taste."

This made it clear to them that you weren't someone they could easily take advantage of, so they only had to agree to obey the rules of their new mother and, now, their new boss.

"If you don't like the mother I'm offering, then our deal is off. Which is a shame, since I was very excited to work with you," Sukuna said sarcastically. "Now I have no choice but to get rid of you."

Sukuna was about to throw his hand when both curses knelt, surrendering immediately. They had finally understood that they couldn't complain now that they had entered the castle. This had been a trap to accept a deal where they only end up losing.

"Yes, yes, we want this mommy, my king," Esou said quickly, while Kechizu nodded quickly.

"That's better." Sukuna smiled widely at the satisfaction of putting someone in their place, beneath him. "Now, all that's left is your end of the deal. Tell me, what humans have you seen cross the Impossible Belt?"

"Not many, usually, they're Kamo. They're setting up huge camps to try to enter the Kingdom, but we've delayed them as best we can," Esou replied, while Kechizu nodded along with every word.

Sukuna had expected it. Given his long-standing rivalry with the Kamo, he wasn't surprised that they wanted to reclaim their precious lands and their descendants. He should send more curses into this mini-war they secretly started.

"Sometimes sorcerers we don't recognize try to enter, but we kill them too," Esou explained.

"And the girls?" Kechizu reminded him. At that, Esou shook his head to stop him from saying anything else, his eyes pleading with him to keep it quiet.

"Girls?" Sukuna inquired, sitting upright in his seat to focus his attention.

"Ah, two little girls we wanted to eat. They were carrying a huge backpack full of things. Apparently, they had recently escaped from the commune," Esou explained between stutters, trying to downplay it.

"You ate them?" Sukuna asked.

"No, they smelled horrible. We didn't even want them," Esou explained, still downplaying it. Little girls didn't pose a danger to anyone.

"So that's just why you let them escape?" Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"It's not like we could do much, my king. The Kamo quickly found them. I don't understand how they managed to withstand the horrible smell."

Sukuna pondered this strange situation. How was it possible that two little girls could cross the...? “I left the kingdom. My mother used to take us to the Gojo Kingdom twice a year. My mother, Yorozu, and I used to travel through the lower reaches. It was a rather arduous two-day journey.” He remembered what you had told him before embarking on your first trip together. You weren't the only one to cross the belt with ease. Unless…

“I have two more sisters. Nanako and Mimiko. They're barely 11 years old and completely alone because Yorozu killed our mother.” Could it be? There was no other way. “It's pointless. If they left on the day of the reaping, they must already be in some other kingdom. It may sound selfish, but I'd rather think they're fine than search for them only to be told some curse had caught up with them.” Your words came back to him like a whiplash, a sign from the universe that he was right.

Sukuna didn't know what to do with that information. He held it in front of him like a volatile weapon that could either work for him or against him. On the one hand, his instinct was immediate. He wanted to find you, to tell you to go inspect the Kamo Kingdom before it was too late. But something was holding him back. Now that he knew King Toji was planning to invade his lands after the birth of his firstborn, any false move could accelerate the conflict.

And then there were his plans… He had already delayed them more than he would have liked. Postponing everything again, just now when everything seemed to be moving forward, meant more than a change of date. It meant sowing doubts, opening flanks, revealing that something was troubling him. Rumors would spread like wildfire, and his carefully cultivated position of power could falter.

Sukuna leaned back in his throne, his jaw tense, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He was caught between what he had to do and what he couldn't afford to do. Between the looming war and the promise to serve you for life.

He had to make a decision. And I knew that, whatever it was, no one would come out unscathed.

➽──────────────❥

It had been a while since you'd seen the servants so happy. You'd ordered Uraume to prepare all the dishes that would be served at the wedding as a "trial," though in reality it was nothing more than a carefully disguised excuse to feed the castle with something other than oatmeal and stale bread, as usually.

The dining room was a living feast. It overflowed with exquisite aromas and vibrant colors: juicy cuts of meat, steaming stews seasoned to perfection, platters decorated with exotic fruits that rarely crossed those stone doors. The bustle of conversation mingled with hearty laughter, clinking cutlery, and full glasses.

You were sitting at the head of the table, the place where Sukuna normally sat, watching the scene with a calm smile. Choso rested on your lap, eating slowly from a plate that Mrs. Inoue had set out for him.

Uraume, for their part, didn't know what to feel. They had strict orders from the king: to obey you without question. But unlike Sukuna, blinded by affection, they didn't share his enthusiasm. Something wasn't right with you. You smiled too much, you were too considerate, your gestures were calculatedly tender. Your requests to the king—seemingly innocent—bordered on the absurd, yet they were always accepted without resistance. And most disturbing: your aim. It wasn't normal for someone with so little training.

Uraume didn't trust you. And what worried them most… was that they couldn't prove why. If they went to the king without proof, he wouldn't believe them, or worse, he'd punish them for wasting their time and going against his precious wife. Sukuna was too comfortable in the palm of your hand to listen to reason.

Choso took the last strawberry from the plate, bringing it clumsily to his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyelids drooping like heavy velvet curtains. Within seconds, his small head tilted to the side, overcome by sleep. It was time for a nap. You wrapped your arms around him and gently picked him up, as if he were the most precious treasure in the castle.

"I'm going to take Choso to his bed for a nap," you told Mrs. Inoue before heading for the exit.

"Let me escort you, miss." Uraume followed you.

The two of you walked in silence through the castle's long corridors. The only sounds were the soft echoes of your footsteps and the muffled sound of your breathing. The dining room was behind you, filled with laughter and clinking dishes; and Sukuna, still preoccupied with his reunion with your new children, seemed to be in another world.

You reached the room with the three single beds, a makeshift space that Uraume had to hastily prepare. You gently placed Choso on one of the beds. He barely moved, deep in sleep, his brow furrowed slightly. You tucked him in carefully, tucking the covers around his sides, as if that small gesture was enough to shield him from the world.

"I know you're up to something," Uraume blurted out.

You froze at the statement, as if time had stopped just to hear that accusation. Yet every fiber in your body responded with discipline. You didn't allow a single muscle to tense, didn't give the slightest hint that the facade was cracking. It was too soon for that.

"Up to something? Like what?" you asked, confused.

"I don't know, but I'm willing to find out," Uraume said.

You knew this moment would come. Sooner or later, someone would begin to suspect your actions. And it made perfect sense that it would be Uraume. They observed with the precision of a scalpel, with the kind of attention born not of hatred, but of pure distrust, cultivated through instinct and experience.

You didn't dislike them. In fact, there was something in his methodical coldness that you respected. But you also knew he didn't like you in the least. And now, listening to them, you understood that it was no longer a suspicion. It was a warning they'd been putting off for a long time.

And yet, you just smiled. With that carefully rehearsed calm.

"What do you think I'm doing?" you asked seriously.

"So you're up to something?" Uraume raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe..." you said, turning your attention back to Choso, dismissing their words.

"I'll find out and tell the king."

Uraume wasn't good at threatening people. Despite having Sukuna as an example for over half a millennium, they couldn't get past that monotonous voice that characterized them so much.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Uraume. That's why you're his favorite servant," you told them with a knowing wink.

"I'm not just his servant, I'm his right-hand!" Uraume exclaimed, defending their position in the castle.

"Lower your voice. Can't you see that your king's son is asleep?" you ordered.

"That child is only your son," they corrected you.

"If he's my son, then he's the king's too. That's how marriage works," you clarified.

You looked one last time at Choso. Luckily, the scream hadn't disturbed him at all. You brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead and tucked it behind his ear. A brief reminder of why you were doing all this.

"I don't know what you think I'm doing, but I can assure you that you and I are doing exactly the same thing. We both serve the king with everything we have and are loyal to his word to the end." You got out of bed and stood shoulder to shoulder with them. "The only difference is that I'll have a crown on my head, and you'll always have an apron around your waist."

You gave her one last smile before leaving the room, serene and measured. You walked past Uraume without a glance, as if their presence were nothing more than a shadow in your path. It was that gesture that ignited the rage in their chest. They clenched their fists tightly, their knuckles pale with tension. They couldn't bear it. That smile of yours wasn't courtesy... it was mockery. A cruel reminder of how far you'd risen in such a short time.

Just a few months ago, you'd been nothing more than a footnote in the castle's history. This was an injustice. Uraume had served Sukuna with unwavering devotion for ages past. They knew every nuance of his temperament, every preference, every latent threat. They knew what was best for him. And you... you arrived with your soft manner, your poisoned smiles, and your skills that didn't match your story. No. It wasn't envy. It was a sense of duty.

They were going to find out what you were hiding. And if it turned out to be an attempt, if there was even the slightest possibility that you posed a threat to the king, you wouldn't just fall. You would pay for every one of your deceptions with the most expensive coin.

Masterlist.

taglist:

Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @danniwerner @paradisestarfishh @missroro

(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

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infin1ty-garden · 3 months ago

Note

If you’re taking requests could you do Geta with a reader who is a soldier. Like a good one, fights well? Is maybe the Generals right hand? Preferably afab but gender neutral!

Thank you!

୭🧷✧˚. CACOETHES SCRIBENDI

⋆｡°✩ summary: [ in request ] ⋆｡°✩ pairing: emperor geta x afab! gn! reader ⋆｡°✩ warnings: * historical inaccuracies * ⋆｡°✩ word count: 681 ⋆｡°✩ author note: i finished writing this while sick, so sorry if the ending doesn't make sense

masterlist.

You didn't expect to be summed by the emperors. They had already summoned the general a few days prior. What could they possibly want from you? Can't be anything good? Maybe a higher rank? But getting your hopes up won't do you any good. As you made your way through the palace, it became clear. The emperors didn't invite you for an important discussion but something else entirely.

You could see guests walking freely in the gardens, a celebration held for the latest victory. But then why were you formally called for and not just invited to the celebration? Had they forgotten they even invited you? "Ah, there they are. The general's right hand." Geta said as he bowed low. He was drunk. That much is clear. "What brings you here?" You stood up straighter.

"You sent for me, imperator." He nodded before continuing. "But of course, I did..." he stared into space trying to remember why he asked for you. "You are a very reliable second in command but I know your talents could be used elsewhere. Since the unfortunate failure of a certain general, I've decided to appoint you, your very own army. I trust you won't dare repeat the same mistakes."

He waved his hand as if trying to wave away the seriousness of the conversation. "Now that that's over. How about you enjoy the celebration? It is dedicated to your victory." You straighten your back. "You mean the general's." He tripped walking down the steps, you had to catch him. Your hand was wrapped around his waist as you tightened your hold on him. Geta froze, he didn't know what to say.

He ripped himself away from your grasp and continued on walking, signaling you to follow him. You made it to what you assume is the palace library. Before you could even utter a word, "I love you." Now, you were the one frozen. "I've been trying to figure out what these emotions were for a long time. I can say for sure I've never been in love. Well, it didn't feel like this." His eyes finally looked at you.

"What's your answer?"

"You're the emperor. Couldn't you just order me to marry you?"

"Ofcourse, I can but that's not what I want." You hesitated. "Imperator, I haven't spent any time with you. Therefore I don't know much about you to develop feelings." You thought that was a sufficient enough answer. "Very well, I request from this moment on, that we exchange letters to get to know one another better."

[ … ]

The first few letters you wrote to one another, you learned about each other's childhood. Interests, favorite colours and so on then something changed.

I write to you on this fine day as the sun sets. The beautiful colours of blue cascading gradient into orange, remind me of you. Maybe it's their beauty or something else entirely. I can't say for certain. My brother has been pestering me recently of how I disappear in my room for hours a day without company. When in truth I am writing to you, I know it's only a matter of time before he finds these letters but I'm not ashamed. I have learned so much about you and so have you of me. Your fears, dreams, wishes... I for one, wish you a safe return and hopefully once you do a better and stronger relationship between us.

You didn't know what to think. Geta shouldn't be on your mind, you should focus on tomorrow's battle but you couldn't. You were surprised how sweet he was in the letters, how much he told you about himself, things you never thought the emperor would admit. Was he that serious about you? He does have a tendency to quickly fall in and out of love as you can attest to that.

You thought he would have moved on by now. Stopped writing, it's been months and without fail every two weeks a new letter arrives. You were looking forward to receiving them. Had you started to fall in love with him?

Thanks for reading and requesting!

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #x gender neutral y/n #emperor geta x reader #geta x you #geta x reader #emperor geta #gladiator x reader #gladiator 2 x reader #gladiator ii x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator 2

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seeingteacupsindragons · 2 months ago

Note

Did you ever manage to wrap your head around Stan's position in the military? Because I'm getting a lot of mixed signals aha. Also, just love all of your dr stone posts, they fuel me :)

Yeah, my head is settled on: The author has absolutely no fuckin' clue how the US military works and aggressively did not care. Which is fine, really, because it's a fairly minor point in the series and there's lots of other stuff to care about (although I would also like to lodge a complaint about how Senku is apparently the president of the science club as a freshie, but again, the timelines of stuff happening here wildly makes no sense and they really should not have even tried).

But as an American, oh my God.

If we cared about realism, he would be in the Marines based on his dress uniform and frankly also based on the weird variety of skills he has because the Marines do and always have occupied a very weird place in the US military in which they are expected to be kind of a jack of all trades and they tend to have much higher standards and much smaller forces than the other branches.

And if he's a special ops Marine, then he would be a Marine Raider in MARSOC, and if he's a commander of a MARSOC squad, he would have to be a Captain, which is a commissioned officer rank which pretty much universally requires a 4-year college degree. He could theoretically be a higher rank but at his age that's already pushing into nonsense and also unlikely for him to be boots on the ground anymore, and he clearly is.

According to the fanbook, he enlisted in the Air Force (???????????????? THEN WHY IS HE WEARING---DRESS UNIFORMS ARE NOT INTERCHANGEABLE????) at 18, was selected for the "special forces" at 19 (that is not how anything works holy shit, getting any of the special forces in any of the US branches is really rigorous and difficult and requires a lot of training) and promoted as the youngest commander in history (yeah for fucking sure) of a special ops team at 21.

This is just not how anything works. If he's a commissioned officer, he would still be in college. Also I think the author might think the US has just one generic special forces squad from all the branches, when in fact each has their own. The Navy SEALs are not the Marine Raiders are not the Army Green Berets are not the Air Commandos.

*yells into a void about this*

So anyway, if we want to align this to realism, he's a Captain of a Marine Raider team.

If we want to not do that, he's...a commander of special forces after being promoted out of the Air Force because...he was...good with a gun, I guess, and now he gets to wear the Marine uniform???

*rubs temples*

I like the first. Because at some point I am just going to have to ignore the fact that canon doesn't make any sense after acknowledging that's what it is.

It is possible that the author/artist just associated "Marines" with "US Special Forces" because until the last couple decades they were sort of treated that way, because of, again, the weird place they hold in the US Military generally, to the point where my grandfather insisted all Marines were special forces (he was a Marine, go figure).

But that hasn't been true for a while and the Marine Raiders were formed well before Stan could have ever joined the military.

Okay, I think that...probably answers your question? I can talk about this for a while because I spent a long time looking this stuff up. Like probably 20-40 hours. Because Stan is a pretty gay anime boy with an 8 pack whom I latched onto and thus this happened.

Also I want him to be a Marine Raider because the Marine motto is "Semper Fidelis" or "Always Faithful" and the Marine Special Ops motto specifically is "Spiritus Invictus" or "Unconquerable Spirit" and I suspect that wasn't on purpose for the reasons listed above, but goddamn does that fit him perfectly.

Also the Raider creed fits him super perfectly if you sub country in there for Xeno.

Anyway, feel free to ask more questions about Stuff.

#Dcst #Dr. STONE #Stanley Snyder

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sachiko6243 · 2 years ago

Text

Let the poor woman come

Summary: some smut, but not too detailed, a surprise visit ;)

Generally this is just some short drabble from my story "The prophecy of the elvish warrior - a Haldir love story" which ccan be found on Wattpad and Ao3 (account name in my tumbler description) have fun with it 😉🥰

Word count: 1164

Warnings: smut, threesome, female orgasm, surprise visit from the elven daddy himself 😉 (but its mostly our blond warriors) Minors DNI !!!

Translation: hûn nin = my heart

I was completely bare between the two men. After our talk with Thranduil, they proceeded to rid me of my clothes and now here I was. Sitting on Haldirs lap, his cock deeply sheathed into my core, my legs spread by his strong thighs. Legolas kneeling in front of me, edging me. I was a quivering mess, sweat and slick sticking to my body, but it didn’t look like either of the elves cared. Haldir had stopped thrusting into me, just relishing my twitching pussy around his cock, leaving it up to Legolas to pull another orgasm from my body.

“So beautiful.” He murmured in my ear. “Do you like Legolas making you cum, meleth?” I let out another strangled moan, when Legolas finger danced over my clit. “Answer us, meleth. Tell us how good we make you feel.” Haldir pressed on, gripping my hips tighter, when I clenched around his cock. “Good!” I whined. “So good…”

A knock on the door interrupted us. “Yes?” Legolas answered, his voice sounding like he didn’t just finger me. To my fearful surprise the door opened and closed again. A light ‘thump’ indicated someone leaned against the wooden frame. Luckily the room we stayed in was rounding a corner, so from where the door was placed, you were unable to see the fireplace and bed. Legolas lips contorted in a devilish smile, when he started to stroke my clit again. From behind Haldir snuck a hand around my mouth to keep me from making a sound.

“I wondered…” My eyes went wide, when I realized it was Thranduil, who was standing there. “… whether it would be possible for you to help me organize a few things regarding the kingdom.” Slowing down his movement, to keep me from cumming, Legolas answered: “Of course, Adar. What exactly needs to be discussed?” The elven king sighted. “Ah just the way we intend to keep our borders safe. The war has strained our armies and as far as I am concerned the spiders did not seem to have gained as many casualties as we did.”

My muffled cry, forced Thranduil to stop mid explanation, but after a few seconds he kept on talking: “As well I want to show my apology by inviting you, Haldir and Visha to Mirkwood. I guess since the three of you are content to make this relationship work, I might as well invite her and the Commander to Mirkwood.”

“See it as done, Adar.” Legolas answered, not letting my face out of his sight. I was now twitching and panting from how close my orgasm was and I wondered why Thranduil didn’t pick on the tension and noises in the room. But my hopes were soon shattered on the ground, when the king spoke again: “Thank you, my son.” I heard him turn around, opening the door. “Ah and another thing. Let the poor woman cum. I am afraid the whole realm is yearning for her release.” Legolas chuckled between my legs, signaling for Haldir to take away his hand. “I will. Don’t worry.” Then, he circled my clit with the uttermost sinful touch, he ever used, pushing me over the edge. Even though I didn’t hear Thranduil leave the room, I couldn’t help myself. A loud moan, ripping from my chest, ringing through the room.

“Thank you.” Was the last thing I heard, before the door fell into its hinges. The sound shuttering through my body, freeing the insanity of what just happened.

“I fucking hate you!” I exclaimed. My breath still irregular. Legolas got up from his knees. “No, you love us.”

“Why did you do this? He is your father!” I asked, feeling something between arousal and embarrassment. “I will never be able to look him in the eye!” This had Legolas smirk again. “He was the one, prying on our intimate life. I guess he got what he wanted. Besides don’t tell me, you didn’t like it. I could see it in your eyes. The fear of being caught just went straight to your filthy little pussy, didn’t it?”

I gasped at his boldness, unsure what to say. He was right. I enjoyed the thrill of it, but I didn’t expect him to be this bold.

“Don’t worry hûn nin*. My father was never one to let people go against his believes and rules. If he really had a problem of engaging us in this situation, he would have waited. You know, elven hearing can be a big asset deciding whether to enter a room or not.” Legolas smiled at me, making his way to the bed, ridding him from the rest of his clothes.

Then he proceeded to take a seat on the broad bed in front of us. “Ride him.” Was all he said, slowly stroking his hard cock in his hand. I was stunned at his sudden change in demeanor. Legolas wasn’t usually the one to overtake Haldir in extruding dominance, but sometimes there were slight glimpses of the princes’ natural power slipping through. “What?” My voice was hoarse and thin of breath. Tilting his head to the side Legolas lips twisted into a cocky smile. “You heard my father. You are to be queen of Mirkwood at my side. Now show your commander what his queen likes. Take him as you please.”

I froze on the spot unsure of what to do. My brain reeling from the change of pace in the room. The newly found power sending butterflies through my stomach. Haldirs warm hand on my back startled me back into reality. I could feel him shuffle underneath me. Sliding towards the edge of the chair and leaning back. “Go on little starlight. Ride me. I am yours to take. Your throne to sit on. Well to be honest I would rather have you use my face as your throne, but this will do for now.”

His words had Legolas chuckle: “You see how eager the Commander is to please his queen? You are a natural.” “Both of you need an ego check.” I grumbled. “You are having way to much fun, teasing me like that and then throw me into cold water.”

Underneath me Haldir leaned forward, his lips brushing over my shoulder. “Would you rather have me rail you on the floor to Legolas feet?” Him growling into my ears, send goosebumps over my whole body and I involuntarily started to shiver.

Desperately trying to gain my stance back, I straightened up, forcing as much power into my voice that I could muster. “No. I am just fine.” Still unsure about what to do, I started to roll my hips in circular motions, as I was not able to do much more, since my feet barely touched the ground. But by the groaning noises coming from Haldir I was doing good. Following Legolas order, I completely focused on my own pleasure, riding my husband in the most sensual and deep way I ever did.

Taglist: gt13tbbart

#lotr #haldir smut #legolas smut #fem reader #threes0me #smut #haldir x reader x legolas #legolas #haldir #thranduil #haldir of lorien #legolas greenleaf

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criticallyinneedofadar · 9 months ago

Text

Alliance of Shadows (7)

A/N: We are more than halfway through our tale... What are we thinking? Are we enjoying ourselves so far?

Pairing: Adar x Reader

Warnings: Violence, war, anxiettyyyy

Word Count: 2.4k

Taglist: @zoya-olenko @annatartastic @oakenshielq @perse-cora

Previous - Next

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The night of the siege hangs over the camp like a thick cloak, the sky painted a deep, ominous gray as the forces of Mordor and the Hidden Mountain stand poised for war. The two armies moved together in perfect synchrony—Uruks and mages working side by side, their cohesion almost unnatural, as if they had always been meant to fight as one. Even the air hums with energy, with magic and raw power swirling in anticipation.

But something gnaws at you. A sense of unease, subtle yet persistent, lingers at the edge of your awareness. You had spent the night preparing, weaving enchantments and spells into the armor of your soldiers, strengthening their resolve, yet the feeling will not leave. You can not shake the sensation that you are missing something—a shadow lurking just out of reach.

Adar stands at your side, his gaze steady as he surveys the battlefield. The quiet before the storm. His Uruks are ready, their eyes filled with a fierce loyalty to their father. Your own mages stand at attention, their minds sharpened, awaiting your command. But still, the feeling persists.

"Do you feel it?" you ask, your voice low, meant for Adar’s ears alone.

He gives a slight nod, his eyes narrowing. "There is a shadow, but I can’t place it. It could be the weight of battle approaching—or perhaps Sauron’s dark presence."

His words do little to soothe your worry, but you nod in return, trusting that whatever it is, you will face it together.

As the time to launch the assault nears, Adar sighs. His eyes, always so guarded, seem to soften just for a moment, though they do not leave the city in front of him and he speaks quietly, as if the words were meant to be shared in this one, fleeting moment of stillness.

“When I came to you asking for aid, I had little hope,” he admits, his voice raw in a way you have never heard before. “I was prepared to face rejection, or at best, a begrudging alliance. But instead, I found more than I dared to hope for.”

Your heart quickens at his words, but you remain silent, waiting for him to continue.

“You are…,” he says carefully, his gaze suddenly holding yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. “Something I never expected to find. Should we survive this… You will always have a place by my side”

His words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. You feel the pull between you—dangerous, intoxicating, like the edge of a blade.

“I will consider it,” you reply softly, a small smirk making its way onto your face. “Though, truly I think you merely want the title King Consort.” Adar snorts, as though you had forced a small laugh out of him.

Before you can say anything more, the horns sound—deep, guttural, and unyielding—cutting through the night and signaling the start of the siege. The stillness shatters in an instant, replaced by the clamor of marching feet, the clanking of steel, and the roar of war drums. Torches flare to life, casting flickering shadows over the assembled armies, while the sky above seems to darken further as though the very stars are retreating from the violence about to unfold.

Adar stands tall before his Uruks, a father addressing his children before the greatest battle of their lives. His voice rises above the chaos, carrying with it the weight of years spent under oppression, of battles fought and lost, of scars worn not just on his body but in his very soul.

"My children," Adar begins, his voice low but resonant, commanding attention. "For too long, we have fought in the shadow of a master who never saw us as more than tools. For too long, we have bled for those who sought only to enslave us, to use us, to make us forget who we are. But tonight, we stand not as slaves, not as weapons forged by another’s hand—but as warriors, as free beings defending our home."

His words stir the air, a palpable energy rising among the Uruks. They hang on every word, eyes gleaming with fierce loyalty.

"Sauron thinks he can reclaim us," Adar growls, the disdain dripping from his tone. "But he underestimates the strength that courses through our veins, the fire that burns in our hearts. We are not the mindless creatures he once commanded. We are Uruks, forged in darkness, but destined for our own light!"

A cheer rises from the crowd, low and rumbling like the growl of an impending storm. Adar raises a hand for silence, his eyes scanning his army before landing on the mages who have joined their ranks.

"And tonight, we are not alone. With us stand our allies from the Hidden Mountain, mages of immense power—" Adar gestures to you and your warriors. "They will bring the forces of the elements and the very fabric of reality itself to our side. The elves and Sauron do not know what is coming for them. They expect us to be divided, broken, but they will be faced with something far greater than they have ever imagined. They will yield to us, or they will fall!"

The Uruks roar in unison, their voices echoing into the night. Adar’s ability to inspire his children—his unyielding belief in their strength—stirs the fire within you. His face, framed in torchlight as he stands proud before his forces, makes you long to pull him into your arms, never to let him go. For all his darkness, there is a nobility in him, a fierce love for those who follow him, for those he calls his children.

You step forward, your voice cutting through the noise, drawing the attention of your mages and the Uruks alike.

"Brothers and sisters," you begin, your gaze sweeping over the gathered warriors. "We have hidden in the shadows for too long, watching as this world forgot us, watching as it tore itself apart. But no more. Tonight, we fight not just for survival, but for our place in this world. A place we will carve out with our strength, with our magic, with our sheer will!"

The mages straightened, power thrumming through the air as they drew on the raw forces around them, ready for battle.

"We stand here alongside the Uruks, and together we are unstoppable. We will tear down their walls, break their lines, and claim what is ours. This is not just a fight for territory. This is a fight for our future. So let them come with their armies, their illusions of power. Let them face what they have never known—true strength, our strength!"

The armies before you erupt into a frenzy of cheers, the mages and Uruks unified in purpose. The air itself seems to hum with anticipation, the forces of magic and muscle combined into an unstoppable force.

Adar turns to you, his eyes shining with lust and power, a shared understanding of what is to come. He gives a nod, a silent agreement passing between you.

He raises his hand once more, commanding the attention of all. "Prepare the battering rams. Let the siege begin!"

With a sweeping gesture, Adar gives the signal, and the armies surge forward.

The first wave of Uruks surge forward, their war cries echoing as they charge toward Eregion’s gates. Your mages follow, hands raised as they chant in unison, sending dark spells to weaken the defenses, shifting the very earth beneath the enemy’s feet. The walls of Eregion tremble under the assault, and you feel the surge of power in your blood, driving you forward.

Adar leads his children with brutal efficiency, every swing of his blade precise and deadly. He is a force of nature, carving through the enemy with an elegance that belied the ferocity of his strikes. Your own power flows through you, bending reality to your will, turning enemy minds against them, shifting the battlefield into a distorted maze of illusions and traps.

But still, the dread lingers.

As the battle rages, chaos unfurls in every direction—screams, the clash of steel, and the thrum of magic weave into a deafening storm around you. Amidst the swirling carnage, you catch sight of him—Sauron. His dark, imposing figure moves through the battlefield like a wraith, his black armor gleaming under the dim light of the moon, a stark contrast to the blood and fire that splatters his path. His eyes burn with cold malice, and with every swing of his blade, Uruks and mages alike fall before him, their bodies crumpling under the sheer force of his power.

Your heart clenches as you watch him, this shadow from histories darkest memories, slicing through your forces with such ease, his movements terrifyingly precise. Adar sees him too, and without a word, the two of you begin moving toward him, weaving your way through the battlefield, your hearts pounding with the knowledge that this is the confrontation you had both been preparing for.

The distance closes, and finally, the three of you meet in the heart of the storm, where the fighting becomes background noise to the intensity of this moment. Around you, the armies churn like waves crashing against each other, but here, the air stills, heavy with the weight of what is to come.

Adar steps forward, his sword raised high, and it is as though time slows. His blade swings through the air, crashing against Sauron’s with a sound that reverberates across the battlefield, a thunderous clash of steel on steel that sends sparks flying into the night. Adar presses forward with fury and determination, each strike fueled by years of hatred and vengeance, but Sauron meets him blow for blow, his expression unbothered, his strength seemingly boundless.

You move quickly, weaving your magic into the fight, sending waves of energy through the ground beneath Sauron’s feet, disrupting his balance, warping the very air around him. The space bends as you channel your power, disorienting him, making it harder for him to move with his usual deadly precision. But even as your magic hums through the battlefield, you feel the weight of Sauron’s presence pressing down on you, like a tidal wave of darkness threatening to consume you whole.

Sauron’s gaze locks onto you, his molten eyes burning through the haze of war, and in that moment, it is as if the battlefield falls away, leaving only the two of you. His voice cuts through the din, dark and mocking. “You’ve aligned yourself with the father of monsters, Witch Queen,” he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. “How far you’ve fallen.”

You meet his gaze, but you do not rise to the bait. Your hands glow with raw power, the energy vibrating in your bones as you push harder, bending the world around him, creating cracks in his perception, distorting his defenses. You twist the very fabric of reality itself, trying to pin him down, to slow his movements, to weaken his control over the battlefield.

But Sauron’s power is immense, relentless. His will presses against yours, pushing back as though your magic were nothing more than a fleeting annoyance. You grit your teeth, focusing harder, feeling the strain in every fiber of your being as you try to keep up the pressure.

Adar fights fiercely beside you, his sword a blur as he parries and counters each of Sauron’s brutal strikes. The two of them move like titans locked in combat, sparks flying with every blow, the sound of their swords clashing echoing through the battlefield.

Sauron’s gaze flickers back to you, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He knows. He feels the exhaustion creeping into your bones, the toll this battle is taking on you. You’re powerful, yes, but this? Holding him at bay while the war rages around you—it’s draining you. You can already feel your grip slipping, the effort of bending reality, of distorting the world itself, pulling you under.

“You cannot win,” Sauron murmurs, his voice low and insidious, echoing in your mind. “You’re nothing. A child playing with forces beyond her comprehension.”

His words echo in your ears, but you push them aside, focusing instead on your connection to the land, to the magic thrumming beneath your feet. You reach deeper, drawing more power from the earth, from the elements themselves, even as your vision blurs from the strain.

But you know, even as you fight, that you cannot hold him forever. Already, your limbs grow heavy, your energy dwindling as you both distract Sauron and fend off the elves that try to break through the battlefield to reach you.

Still, you fight. Still, you hold on.

Adar senses your fatigue, and he fights harder, his blows growing more vicious, more desperate as he pushes Sauron back, his dark eyes blazing with fury. For a brief moment, Sauron stumbles, caught off guard by a powerful strike from Adar, and you seize the opportunity. You pour every ounce of magic you have left into one final push, warping the ground beneath Sauron’s feet, sending a shockwave of power through the battlefield.

But Sauron is too strong. He recovers quickly, faster than you expected, and his eyes snap back to you, burning with rage.

“You think you can stop me?” he growls, his voice a deadly whisper. “I will tear your world apart, and you will watch as everything you love burns.”

His blade swings toward you, a blur of steel, and in that moment, time seems to slow. You barely have time to react, your heart pounding in your chest as the world narrows to the gleaming edge of Sauron’s sword.

And then Adar is there, his sword clashing with Sauron’s once more, blocking the blow meant for you. The force of their clash sends a shockwave through the ground, knocking you back, but you quickly regain your footing, your magic swirling around you like a storm as you prepare for the next strike.

Adar moves with deadly precision, his strikes relentless. But just as it seems you are gaining the upper hand, you catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye—Glûg.

At first, you think he has come to your aid- or that of his Lord Father. He moves swiftly, almost too quickly, sneaking through the chaos of the battlefield toward Adar. His blade gleams under the dim light. With horror, you realize the blade is aimed not at Sauron but at Adar’s unprotected back.

“Adar!” you scream, but the warning comes too late.

Glûg’s blade thrusts forward, and time seems to slow as you watch in horror. The sound of steel cutting through the air is deafening, and you are powerless to stop it.

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I'm so sorry. I couldn't resist a cliffhanger

#adar #adar rings of power #adar x you #adar x reader #adar fanfic #adar series #rings of power s2 #the rings of power #alliance of shadows #fanfiction

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zoniteillusion-pyritedreams · 1 month ago

Note

Hey honey! You didn't talk about Bts in the hype reading is it because they are kinda removed from the drama ? Not a fave anymore? Or just moving on as a group?

BTS: The Quiet Storm Beneath the Surface

There is something restless in the air an undercurrent of weariness and silent fire. The image is of warriors returned from battle, only to find the kingdom they built is no longer the one they left behind.

The Seven of Wands opens this narrative: defensiveness, boundary-setting, and a refusal to be pushed back into old molds. They're holding their ground but it's not without cost. The reversed Two of Swords suggests that indecision is no longer an option. Lines are being drawn, perhaps not publicly but INTERNALLY, they are already asking the hard questions:

"What now?"

"What do we owe to anyone but ourselves?"

The King of Wands reversed signals frustration. Once visionaries with total command of their path, they now feel creatively stifled, hemmed in by obligations and expectations. And beside him stands the Queen of Swords—sharp, observant, unflinching. She sees the truth for what it is, and her presence suggests:

conversations have already begun. Quiet. Strategic. Necessary.

They are watching the walls around them for cracks. And they’re TIRED (Four of Swords reversed, Nine of Swords). The Knight of Wands reversed confirms it: that impulsive spark, that youthful charge it’s been dimmed, not lost, but tempered by betrayal and burnout.

Yet there’s a sliver of beauty amid the tension the Knight of Cups and Three of Cups. This is a BROTHERHOOD forged in something deeper than fame. They Still Love Each Other. They Still Choose Each Other. Their unity is their anchor.

But the heartbreak is real (Five of Cups, Three of Swords reversed). They’ve lost things trust, time, perhaps even a piece of their identity. The Devil reversed whispers of liberation; there is a desire to cut the chains, to leave toxicity behind. Yet Justice reversed looms contracts, legalities, manipulation.

This isn’t a clean break. This is a slow, careful extraction.

The Page of Swords reversed reminds us: there are eyes everywhere. They know they’re being watched, monitored, and maybe even tested. So they stay quiet. Strategic. Not out of fear but wisdom.

But make no mistake: BTS is not passive in this. They are thinking. Planning. Possibly even negotiating.

There is no blind loyalty here only clarity and the question:

"Can we build something new, just us?"

And the answer forming is yes. Not today. Not tomorrow. But when the time is right,

they will rise again on their terms.

Now a bit of my own just personal input as someone who's been in OG Army way back when they debuted. And who's paid attention to the moves that they've made after resigning your contracts. I 100% believe that these boys were very smart and what their contract have in terms of a and get out of jail free card. I wouldn't be surprised if they made sure that there was a Express right to terminate clause or even a moral rights clause.

Both of those meaning that the artist would have the right to terminate their contract under specific circumstances so they could have it be that if the company starts to overwork them, if public perception changes in a negative light of their own group within the company, or even something like what happened with Jungkook and his money almost being stolen from him they could have had a cause in there that if any Financial issues arise or tampering happen they would be able to end their contract. In terms of a moral right Clause again that is basically they would be allowed to terminate their contract if they feel as if their personal morals and the companies are no longer aligned with one another. These are all clauses that can be added into contracts when it comes to the entertainment industry but normally aren't because a lot of entertainers are unaware of the fact that this is something that they can legally have added on to their contracts. There's maybe about two or three more I feel like also could have been added in but again I'm not exactly sure in depth on how different entertainment contracts are done overseas versus in america. Cuz that's where I ended up getting my degree from so from what I do know if you are an established enough Artist as BTS is there is definitely a lot of negotiations and stuff they would have been very naive and stupid which I highly doubt any of them are to not put in these Clauses that would allow them to be able to leave if shit hits the fan. The only thing is I do think it would have to be a unanimous decision just like the decision to resign was a unanimous decision.

As a fan I find it absolutely infuriating when people seem to ignore or forget the fact that Jungkook and V did not want to resign. Both of them have been very open about the fact that they did not want to resign their contract because of the changing of their team and how they felt management was changing. I feel like people forget that the OG BTS creative team is no longer at that company they actually fired about half of them. Since everything has started going down with njz there have been at least three different people who were a part of the OG creative team of BTS the people who were in charge of and helped create the vision that gave us their storyline and everything who have basically come out and admit it to the fact that bank PD changed as soon as the boys started getting popular he just wanted money and fame and notoriety and it got to the point where if you weren't with him he considered you being against him henceforth him firing part of that creative drive. Which is insane when you think about it because if they didn't have that creative team BTS wouldn't be who they are today it's kind of the equivalent with new jeans as much as people don't like mhj if it wasn't for her they wouldn't have been as big as they are / how big they were becoming because it was her and the people that she handpicked to help create this idea this image this nostalgic feel. I also find it interesting when people kind of ignore the fact that there has been signs of particularly V and Jungkook showing support for the girls and subtle ways because again I feel like they kind of we're already detaching from the company they had just decided to sign on because again their Brotherhood is very strong. They are another group where they have a soul connection they're basically a found family this company has gotten very lucky in doing this multiple times where they have somehow managed to garnish groups with members who are spiritually / divinely connected for lack of better wording like even if they ended up not debuting together they would have met and become friends at some point in time it just might have been later in life.

I don't think that they would be staying but I also feel like it's going to take them a while to separate from them. Looking at it from a business point of view you'll notice that right around the time where shit started hitting the fan and they were trying to really utilize their group they started trying to copyright a shit ton of things. Sadly for some of the members like Jungkook they were able to copyright his name his signature and all these other things so that would be like a lengthy legal battle depending on how they might end up leaving the company so he would even have the rights to those himself because as far as I know those rights are to the company big hit music. They tried and failed to copyright V & his saying I purple you a long with Borahae they were actually told by the copyright court that if he wanted to sit there and copyright those sayings he could but the company has no right to it cuz they did not create it. They all pointed out that you cannot copyright a letter in the alphabet. And of course he has such a common name even as a celebrity that they could not legally copyright that either. The funny thing is those are the only two members that the company has actively been trying to copyright every and anything that they have their hands in and clearly it is on purpose because they know that those two members are very much so willing to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. I do think at this point it would depend on the other members but I feel like even they would not be able to ignore everything that's happening and the Damage that it is causing.

#tarot & tea #tarot reading #dreamweavers #kpop tarot #tarot cards #kpop #tarot #kpopbg #BTS #HYBE

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 4 months ago

Note

*dances in badly* FROSTYYYY! I'm finally regaining energy, which means finally regaining some kind of ideas for fics.

Of course, I'm going to request f!reader x Rex (was there ever a doubt? 😅😅) where it's possibly coming up to life day (my brain is desperate to skip autumn nejjejririejjwjwhw), or it's just cold and snowy, and they're both soing a scouting mission but get cut off from the main group, so have to find safety (cave, abandoned building, etc etc). But it's cold, so there's snuggling close together to stay warm.

Established relationship or this being a confession piece is up to you! I'm all for it being super soft and fluffy, but if you want to add a little small dash of rex having an arm or leg boo boo that gets a bacta patch on is up to you 💞💞💞💞💞💞

@eternal-transcience

Lost on Life Day [Captain Rex x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: While scouting an uncharted planet to patch up some outdated intel, you and Captain Rex end up taking shelter from a growing snow-storm when a minor avalanche separates you from the rest of Torrent Company. Fortunately, no one has died. Unfortunately, several troopers, Rex among them, have been injured, and it will take time before help arrives. Will you be able to endure and weather the storm long enough for help to arrive? It would be a terribly tragic thing to die on a holiday of all days, after all… Second Person POV, undescribed, unnamed Fem!Reader. Reader’s job is (unofficially) a navigational (and/or signal) officer; currently in training. Confessional fic with brief moments of peril, anxiety, as well as minor/mild whump and angst. Injury and vague mentions of blood and other medical supplies such as autoinjectors. Reader is given parts of Rex’s cold weather gear out of selflessness/love. [Same thing, really.] Speculative armor functions. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. Minor use of Star Wars and real-world swearing. Some use of Mando’a. Reader is referred to as “kid” a handful of times, all in an affectionate/apologetic sense. “Little miss” is used once, playfully/sarcastically. Takes place on a fictionalized planet.

Word count: 10,791

There was never a dull day when it came to working with the 501st Legion.

Whether it owed to their unconventional tactics, or if it was simply just the way things worked in the Grand Army of the Republic, this particular deployment seemed to get saddled with some of the more interesting and dangerous missions with an above-average frequency.

Perhaps a lot of that reasoning was rooted in the absolute bravery and unshakeable loyalty these men had not just to each other, but to the whole of the Republic.

This blue-brushed unit was led by an exemplary captain who bore the name Rex, crowned by a helmet that had been emblazoned with a Mandalorian symbol of honor - the Jaig eyes. As a member of the crew aboard the Jedi flagship—the Resolute— you have been given the means to befriend the captain and his men by nature of the ship’s forced proximity. And though the exact act of battle-borne bravery that earned him the right to carry such an esteemed mark remains obscured by mystery, you know with far more certainty that Captain Rex has been fighting since the very beginning of the Clone Wars.

When the planet of Geonosis became the war’s origin-point, he was among the first white-armored soldiers that had been deployed against Separatist forces. Rex has seen and led his men through a lot of excitement, both after and since the reorganization from a Battalion into the Legion they are today under Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker’s command.

It was rather befitting that the designation for the Venator-class Star Destroyer worked not only for one of the many, positive qualities of the Jedi Order, but for the intergalactic transport of this particular deployment of soldiers as well. They were all hard-fighting, admirable and courageous men.

Men that you greatly valued the friendship of; learning to be more comfortable in one another’s company when the war demands their attention, and even when it does not.

You initially think nothing of it when early this morning, in the pre-dawn hours, Captain Rex steps into the starport bridge where you are working alongside Admiral Yularen and the rest of the crew. He carries his modified helmet at his left side, leaving his face visible and free. An expression of focused professionalism is softened with a warm, patient smile as he draws nearer, seeing you diligently complete this morning’s work.

Recently, you had begun training in one of the Republic’s many programs to become a navigational officer. The captain encouraged you to ‘change course’ when he noticed that you were facing growing dissatisfaction in your current position, hoping it would inspire you to remain stationed here.

It’s hard to resist reflexively returning that smile, or to remember the usual phrases of formality as you turn to address him.

“Good morning, Captain.” Anticipating that he must have a message from General Skywalker or Commander Tano to give to Admiral Yularen, you offer to help him in case the matter is an urgent one after Rex echoes your greeting. “I’m afraid the admiral is a bit busy at the moment,” you say, speaking of the ship’s captain, “but I’d be happy to help you with whatever it is I can.”

Chuckling politely, Rex first expresses his surprise to hear you sound so… formal. “Starting to sound just like a deck officer already. But it’s funny that you ask how you can help when that’s exactly what I came to see you about.” When you give him a puzzled expression, yet nod for him to continue, he adds, “I have… a really big favor I wanted to ask of you.” His voice, often so coherent when issuing even the most chilling or unpleasant orders, is full of uncertain halting. Hesitation.

You assume that whatever he’s going to say, he understands he’s asking a lot of you. “Sure. What is it?” Making up the difference, there is no delay in seeking to determine what Rex’s big favor is.

Gently tossing a nod in the direction of one of the nav-tables, your friend signals for you to follow him so the two of you will be more out of the way. Shifting the helmet off his hip and onto the edge of one of these consoles, Rex frees up both of his hands so that he can speak to you. This way, both you and himself can speak and behave less like a soldier and a member of the crew, and more like friends. Foregoing the formality of titles and the like without worry for the eavesdropping presence of higher-ranking associates.

Trying to find the words to say, the captain takes a deep, quiet breath. It must be something serious on top of being a lot to ask.

“We- I understand that you’re not yet a navigational officer—officially speaking—but I thought it would be best to find all the help I could get. You’re still training; but Commander Tano believes you show great promise. I think she was even trying to suggest she could sense it,” Rex carefully explains, making a nod to common abilities Jedi utilized of and through the Force with an uncharacteristically timid expression.

“And, both from what I’ve heard as well as my trust in Commander Tano, I certainly believe her.”

Giving it considerate thought, you allow yourself time to process. Then, nodding slowly, you ask what the mission is.

“Okay… Well, that’s, uh, sweet of you and Commander Tano, and all, but… I guess what exactly do you need so much extra help for, Rex?”

“We’ve been asked to scout out a planet that it seems nobody can recognize, or name.”

It could prove to be a potentially dangerous mission, but it would—should—be far less dangerous than some of the other missions they’ve been assigned. The astrological body had been picked up by Republic scanners from one of the many fleets as it was passing by, and all of the data fields had returned with very sparse information. No known, recognizable name, peoples, or even local climate beyond an estimate this was an ice giant. They couldn’t even be certain there was even animal-life down there due to perpetual, shifting storms.

The only thing anyone has been able to confirm of the planet is its size: 7,010.08 kilometers, a bit oddly specific…

Speaking to you with the same amount of respect he would show any of his brothers, Captain Rex further explains, “I’d like you to join us as an extra set of eyes out there once we make it planetside. Situational awareness and communications will be crucial down there. I’m asking if you’ll join because you get along well with my men. They trust you. And I think we’ll need all the trust we can find.” General Skywalker and Commander Tano were busy with making preparations before all of you were due to exit hyperspace, but they had already provided the necessary permissions to Admiral Yularen and Captain Rex to temporarily add civilian crew under his command for the mission. At this point, it came down to your choice to join, or stay aboard the Resolute.

“Well, uh…”

The reasoning seems sound, but you’re not wholly sure about jumping to accept just yet. A chance for real field experience? That would be the kind of thing that would look incredible on your training record. (Especially if it was with the 501st!) But you needed to make sure you had good-fitting gear before anything was made official. If you needed to scramble to borrow something, you’d want some extra time to take care of that.

“I just need to check that I have all the necessary equipment, first.”

There are more than three rapid blinks in surprise. “You’ll-? You’re agreeing to join?” Rex asks, his voice brightening with hope.

You can’t help a friendly chuckle before correcting him.

“Well only if I either have or can borrow all the necessary gear. Won’t be any good to the team down there if I risk becoming half-frozen, now will I?”

“Would you like some help?” Rex kindly offers.

You graciously accept the captain’s offer, figuring it’s only fair. After all, you’re going to provide quite a lot of it once you’re on the planet’s surface, now aren’t you?

Once all of the appropriate gear has been collected, you and the rest of Torrent Company touch down on the unrecognized planet less than an hour later.

Together, you’re set to embark on the lengthy process of surveillance and charting the findings. Accepting Captain Rex’s help in finding everything you needed pays off the instant your boots crunch down into the fresh, wind-driven snow. Great galaxy and all her stars… It’s well below freezing down here. The low temperatures prove a great concern to the well-seasoned pilots—General Skywalker among them—with the gravest reserved for the landing gear and engines.

If it was necessary to make a hasty escape, they couldn’t very well do that when half of the most critical components were turned to ice. “Worse than I thought down here… Captain Rex - a word, please?” General Skywalker quickly asks to confer with Rex in order to shake out the last few details of his plan, who had been in the process of helping you properly fit the supply pack you were instructed to carry over the rest of the thick, cold-weather gear.

Though he seems regretful to leave you, Rex wastes no time answering. Duty calls. “Of course, General.” He summons the 501st’s medic to take over for him. “Kix, mind helping our good friend here for me?”

“Consider it done, captain.” Kix responds.

Taking over for his commanding officer, Kix finishes appropriately tightening the last shoulder strap. It needs to straddle that delicate knife’s-edge of ‘sturdy’ and ‘loose’; and who better than the man who you’ve heard has performed more than a few life-saving surgeries out in the battlefield if it’s not Captain Rex to finish what he’s started?

“How’s that feeling?” Kix asks after giving the other strap a final cinch. “Give it a wiggle for me, kid.”

Kid: It was one of the Clones’ most common terms of affection when it comes to who they care about; shared both among themselves and those they had grown close to.

Sure, it could be paired with a stinging insult on occasion, or used for a bit of mean-spirited teasing. But it had never been weaponized like that against you. “Kid” was used with less reservation and far more freely than the words the GAR had adopted into their speech from the language of Mando’a. When the moment called for more intimacy, more impact, these sons of Kamino called you ‘burc’ya’ - the Mandalorians’ word for friend. Your bonds with them were ‘burcyan’. The one applicable word they did not share with you was ‘vod’ika’ - though their reason for withholding it was understandable.

While half of its significance meant ‘close friend’, too often the Clones used it for the other half: sibling.

For that reason, it was a precious word to them. And precious few things truly belonged to them. You would be “kid” if it meant they could have something to hold on to, just between brothers.

“Fits great. Thanks, Kix. Appreciate all your help.”

Kix chuckles softly. “Wasn’t all me. But you’re welcome, kid. Excited to have you with us for this mission as one of our navigational officers.”

“Navigational officer in-training,” you’re somewhat firm to clarify. “It’s not official yet. I’m honored by Commander Tano’s level of trust in my training, and grateful that both she and General Skywalker signed off on the necessary data-work to give me permission to be here. But Captain Rex-”

“Thought it would be best to recruit all the people we can trust. I know.” Kix finishes on your behalf. “Sorry, kid; it’s not ideal to put together this plan without involving you first, but I’m afraid you’re the last one to find out about it.”

Seeing as what’s done is done, all you can offer is half a shrug. “No, not ideal. But oh well. Honestly, if it had come from someone other than Captain Rex, I don’t know that I’d’ve agreed to do it.” It’s not like you didn’t have the choice to say “no” either. While he strongly suggested he wanted you to, Rex did ask you if you would agree to join when he spoke to you on the starport bridge.

You were here by your own choice. It would be the responsibility of others to help make sure you would remain safe in the meantime.

“Snips, I’m going to stay behind with a few troops and the pilots to make sure our ships remain operational. I want you to take command of the operation and assist Captain Rex with making sure Admiral Yularen’s future navigational officer makes it back to the Resolute in one piece.” General Skywalker, addressing his padawan, speaks loud enough to be heard by everyone over the subarctic winds lazily snaking through the landing zone. A rather efficient way of signaling to the troops they’ll be on the move soon, quite honestly. “You should take Artoo so he can help her boost the signal through the planetary storms.”

Commander Tano accepts the altered assignment. “Understood, Master.” The silver and blue-plated astromech demonstrates his excitement by rocking side to side on his two primary legs, chirping and warbling in a high, rapid pitch. “I’ll make sure Artooie doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

“And Lieutenant Jesse,” Skywalker adds, scanning the surrounding company for the trooper in question. “I have an assignment for you, too.”

There’s some commotion near the back of the company before a clear, loud “Sir! On my way!” can be heard, the preceding rapid footfall announcing he’s hurrying forward to be properly addressed.

“Very good,” General Skywalker replies once Jesse has moved in-sight of him, “I’d like you to be our third point-of-contact in charge of her safety. Can I count on you to do that?”

Opposite to the Republic crest tattooed over the left part of his face, Jesse promises with a firm salute both him and Captain Rex can count on him for this assignment. A loyal soldier and patriot, not to mention one of the Legion’s oldest soldiers, the ARC trooper is someone in whom you have absolute trust. He’s fun-loving and possesses an adaptable sense of humor; but when push comes to shove Jesse’s among the first to shove back. Just like his captain.

You’re in good hands.

“That settles it then. Ahsoka, you and Torrent Company can set out whenever you’re ready.”

Officially assuming command, Commander Tano issues the necessary orders to button up the last of the landing and preparation procedures before anyone sets foot beyond the landing zone, where together you’ll begin heading up a ridge to the north-northeast, first thing.

“Carry only what’s necessary. We’ll make a plan once we have an idea of what we’re looking at from the ridge, so we won’t be deploying any speederbikes until then, understood?” Several soldiers around you reply in the affirmative, while you’re a little more unsure about a few things. What was considered necessary?

Everything you had seemed pretty necessary since it was supposed to help you communicate between Commander Tano’s team and General Skywalker, and the crew aboard the Resolute, if it was needed… Should you ask?

Maybe she could sense it, but Commander Tano was quick and sweet to assure you not to worry after asking a trooper to help with a particular task. “Here, Tiethis. Looks like they need you to do your thing.” He’s handed a rope and pointed in the direction of a couple of crates full of gear that will be left behind at the landing zone, where his brothers are struggling to keep it all in one place due to the persistent winds. “Hey,” the Togruta padawan greets you kindly once Tiethis trots off, “If it helps, you can lighten your pack by caching a few things between me, Captain Rex and Jesse, to start out with. I know this is your first field exercise and you must be nervous. But you’re gonna do great, I know it. The three of us will be here to help if you get stuck.”

You chance a light, disbelieving laugh. “Thanks; but I think you mean “when”, Commander Tano.” You’re training, bound to make mistakes.

She counters your pessimism with optimism. “Well, if or when you do, the three of us will still be there to help.” The promising reminder that you’re not going to be left to struggle by yourself is a comforting one.

No, you’re certainly not. Not under the captain’s watch.

Rather than take the entire company up to the ridge in order to put together a comprehensive plan of action, a small scouting party is created to get the lay of the land first before the whole company embarks anywhere by speederbike.

Marching up there by foot would be the easy part, seeing as that’s the first and only clear step to this plan. After that, it’s anyone’s guess: the Republic was unfortunately a little too vague on what exactly the 501st had been deployed here to look for. (And that was more than a little frustrating.) You would be joining them to perform a bit of land surveillance before plotting out any kind of path, or opening a com-line to General Skywalker to report visual findings.

And you’ve found what—right now—looks like a barren wasteland.

Below the ridge, the landscape is made up of wind, snow and ice. In the distance, tall, craggy mountain ranges jut out of the snowfields - ominous, gray dorsal fins cutting through an otherwise serene surface.

It’s a start. But you’re not sure you’re going to find more than that without retrieving some equipment from your pack. Maybe these shapes in the mid-ground obscured by snow-flurries will come into sharper focus with the borrowed pair of specs. A higher-end datapad than the one you own is added to your belt as you’ll be needing that next for a written sitrep.

“Don’t forget: explain what you see.” Captain Rex helpfully reminds you. “Once you get the scopes properly calibrated for snow-based environments, of course.” It’ll make it harder to see what’s out there otherwise.

Right, right… How do you do that?”

“I’ll help you with that, little miss.” Jesse offers. He fiddles with them for some time before declaring, “Here! Try that.”

While you surveilled, Rex and Commander Tano were going to talk over the next steps. Cook up ideas of what the Republic might have wanted them to look for. One brave soul breaks the weighted, nervous hush as you make a minor adjustment to the newly calibrated scopes. “What do you think they call this iceball?” the unmarked trooper asks. In an act of boredom or restlessness, he kicks his boot through the fresh-fallen powder as he speaks to the thus-far nebulous idea of potential inhabitants.

The 501st learned their lesson after Orto Plutonia and the Talz: never assume a planet is uninhabited.

Carefully looking out into the vast stretch of snowfields, you now see the shape in the mid-ground are tors. (That’s the name for a geographical feature of free-standing rock formations created by weathering and erosion.) You note they look a little taller than ordinary. Maybe too tall to be a recognizable structure like a hut or other architectural dwelling that would suggest civilization. And though it was a long shot, you find yourself disappointed that it wasn’t. There are no foot-tracks to be seen (that can be picked up by the scope), nor navigational markers - save those left by Republic forces behind you.

The instinct in your gut tells you this planet seems truly uninhabited. “I don’t think anyone calls it anything…” you murmur more to yourself than anyone in particular. “So far, the only thing I see down in the snowfield are a few spread-out tors. No plants, animals or people.”

Unless someone among you (who isn’t one of the Jedi) knows how to “talk” to whatever wildlife you find here, any name this planet may have once had will remain unknown until there is contact with native inhabitants. For now, the written report will have to include a few placeholders until you can come up with something better (or find someone who can give the company answers).

Expedition ICEBALL Carried out on the planet WHOKNOWS Led by Commander Ashoka Tano of the Jedi Order, and Captain Rex [CT-7567] of the Grand Army of the Republic

That’ll have to do. The scouting party shouldn’t keep the others waiting for too much longer.

Rex calls in the first report to General Skywalker so he can show you how it’s done for next time. Skywalker promises to help the men get the swoops and speeders ready by the time those who went to scout return; from the landing zone you’ll be heading north to investigate a point of interest near one of the distant mountain ranges you picked out with your scopes. It’ll prove safer to travel that way. Just somewhat inconvenient when it comes to securing a very vocal astromech on an improvised cargo rack on the back of someone’s CK-6 swoop or BARC speeder while covering greater distances.

Given the chance, you think R2D2 would try to race some of these shinnies to help them learn a little humility by leaving them in his dust. He’d also probably race the older soldiers just for the sake of fun. Little guy certainly has been keeping things entertaining and spirits high around here.

It'd be criminal not to mention how Artoo has proved he’s an invaluable resource to the company on this mission. Like he has many times before. On one of the many stops the company has made to check the surrounding area, the blue and white astromech scuttles off on his own for a time before coming back, whistling and beeping up a storm.

Bw-woop! Woop!

“Artoo? What’s going on, little guy?”

It looked like he’d just gone over a small hill, what could have happened to get him so worked up? Being careful not to stumble through the ankle-high snow, you make your way over. You could be wrong, but he sounds like he’s trying to get your attention specifically. This was as good a time as any to brush up on your Binary.

“You got something to show me?”

Scuttling around to nudge you from behind, Artoo urges you to crest this relatively non-descript hill with a surprising amount of eagerness, even for him.

Woo-WOO! Wheeee!

It won’t take being fluent in Droidspeak to understand this blue and white unit from the R2-series sounds pretty damn pleased with himself about finding this.

Gathered together in a shallow depression, there are maybe six dozen creatures of some kind. They’re small, and coated in thick, puffed wool. Antlered. This is the only wildlife you’ve seen on the surface thus-far. They look like they could be ruminants; when one bleats, the mouth reveals the grinding molar teeth found among herbivores.

“Artoo… Go get Rex and the commander. They’re gonna wanna see this.”

The whole damn company will want to see this. There’s life down here!

Comms become absolutely necessary if you have any hope of being heard over these forceful gales of wind and snow out in the open like this.

A voice comes in on the short-range channel. “Think there’s a farm somewhere?” The question largely receives a rippling of uncertain murmurs in reply, though there is one unmistakable complaint among it all.

“Not this again…”

You offer a laughing retort. “Just because there was a farm on Saleucami, doesn’t mean there’s a farm here, Jesse.” There’s another laugh when the ARC trooper looks over to you and performs a highly exaggerated shrug.

Rex had asked you to stay and watch from a distance as he, Jesse, and several brave troopers took as many pictures as they were safely able upon the young Jedi’s request. The captain would never order his men to do anything he himself would not do. As the nav officer in-training, Rex was not fond of the idea of you being involved, though you had asked if you could help.

“There’s no guarantee. They could just be wild.”

This earns you another shrug. Less exaggerated this time. “Can’t rule it out, though. Look how docile they are!” Jesse replies, referring again to the possibility of farms.

Farms would be an incredible clue of civilization. It’s one of the most solid markers in planetary exploration - proof that someone is being provided for, more than likely nearby.

“No,” you agree simply, “Can’t rule it out yet.”

Jesse did have a point. These creatures do seem relatively docile; none have shown the least bit of fear towards any of the troopers snapping stills around them. Maybe that means there is a farmer not far from here, someone who’s trained or gradually desensitized them to complete strangers.

But tame behavior and looking friendly—perhaps aside from the wide, branched horns—is not enough to guarantee that they are threatless and domesticated. These creatures, whatever they are, may genuinely be wild, potentially feral…

For that reason Kix stands just as watchfully beside you, using a medic’s trained and critical eye to give his brothers stern warnings to give these ruminants breathing room.

“Zipp, if you wanna be a pilot, your eyes need to be sharper than that. It keeps stamping its left hoof because you’re getting too close.”

“Sorry!” the rookie yelps, stumbling back. “I wanted to get a better look at the dirt in its wool…”

Almost a hundred heads turn in the trooper’s direction upon hearing the four-letter word.

Did Zipp just say he found dirt?

Over the open channel, Rex can be heard asking his soldier to repeat that several times, looking to be sure he heard correctly. Cautiously pinching a small amount out of the animal’s wool confirms this is, in fact, soil of an unknown composition. Where had the dirt come from? The company had been calling the planet by the nickname “Iceball” for good reason; there was no bare ground to be found, only ice and deep snow drifts.

“If our hooved friend here has dirt in its wool, then they must have come from someplace else…” Rex hypothesizes. “Maybe there’s more of them.”

When he lowers his rangefinder to search the horizon of this winterscape, the impression he’s looking for the wrong thing comes to you rather suddenly. He should be looking for something else.

Something lower than the horizon.

“Captain Rex! What about tracks?!” you call out to him on the channel. “We can follow tracks or where they’ve pushed through the snow back to where they came from!”

Impressed by your suggestion, Rex gives you a deserving mark of his respect.

Thrice, he knowingly taps the blue emblem of the jai’gaalar’s eyes adorning the top of his helmet. Like the ancient avian of Mandalore, Rex sees the big-picture stuff when it comes to this war against the Separatists. When it’s not literal, it’s in the abstract sense. Thinking. This is part of what makes a man like Rex a triple threat and why you admire the blue-brushed captain so much.

For his brains.

Before he summons Artoo, you are left to imagine if that special smile given to someone you care for is under Rex’s helmet when he surprises you with a compliment. The kind that’s fond, tender, and makes you feel warm inside. “I knew I requested the right person for this mission: we’d probably feel pretty lost without you here, kid… Come help us look for tracks before the wind covers them all, little guy!” Rex could just be saying that in order to be modest, but… something tells you he isn’t. His words sound like they are more than just genuine.

Apart from potentially covering the tracks, the wind brings concern of growing chill. Weather sensors in the second-generation Cold Assault armor worn by the men searching around the divot for prints trill out multiple, impatient warnings that temperatures are taking a slow, steady plunge. Best guess is a forming storm spotted from the gunships in the planet’s northern pole prior to landing has matured enough to start creeping further south.

If it fledged, then you’re all going to have to move quickly.

Current exploratory protocol dictates that so long as the duration of time that soldiers stay in-field does not exceed more-than-reasonable thresholds, Torrent Company and the remainder of the 501st aboard the Resolute are permitted to make as many expeditions as necessary in order to find their answers. The insulated gear dramatically increased a trooper’s tolerance for such extreme weather. The second gen of the HT-77 gear was better, and had seen great improvements that was worth the price increase from the 4,000 credits of the first.

But as the Clones had been told by their trainers, they couldn’t expect the ‘77 to work miracles.

If the weather becomes so severe, or the risk of injury to you or the soldiers becomes too great, then this exploration must be curtailed and everyone will be instructed to leave this iceball behind until it is safer.

Artoo makes his second incredible discovery of the day just when others vocalize their fear: maybe it’s too late to find anything, and the company should head back. Locating the creatures’ trail coming down from the north, he urges everyone to get back to the swoops with a garbled staccato of chirps and half-whistles. At six-dozen in number, the animals collectively cut a deep furrow through the snow. It would potentially be wide enough to use it like a makeshift road.

“Good find, Artooie! Let’s not waste any time!” Commander Tano instructs her men.

Tano leading the way, every bike races down the animal-made path to a mountain range with an unusual crescent-like shape.

There in the deep belly of the curve, a cave’s yawning mouth awaits the explorers. Evidence of the same cloven hoofprints belonging to the ruminants can be found in abundance, here. While it must be safe enough for them to live inside—judging by the odor alone from standing outside—there are still many potential dangers to be found in any given cave system.

So you think it would be best to call in another sitrep before anyone sets foot inside.

This would end up being the last sitrep you make; the signal is thready even with Artoo boosting it for you.

“General Skywalker? This is the nav officer with Torrent Company.”

“I read you; go ahead.” the Jedi Knight responds.

“Your resourceful little astromech found some kind of creature out here. Large group of them. Some kind of small herbivore. We followed their tracks back to a cave. It’s in the middle of one of the north…west mountain ranges relative to your position at the landing sight. Just disembarked our speeders, sir.”

There’s a contemplative hum. “So you haven’t explored it, then. But I’m guessing the company is getting ready to.”

Commander Tano and Captain Rex, who had just conducted a short deliberation, have reached a decision. Flashing a thumbs up, everyone is given the answer that they’ll be proceeding inside shortly once the bikes have been dealt with.

“Affirmative, General.”

“Understood. Tell Commander Tano and the captain that I trust their judgement to keep everyone safe. Thank you for checking in.”

You promise to honor this request and sign off before the signal gets lost completely. Now full of worry and uncertainty, you turn again to your friend and ask in a fraught tone what the plan to explore the cave is. If Rex and Commander Tano don’t have one, the hope is they’re working on one… You and many of the rookies who had been listening in would really feel better knowing there’s a plan to deal with something Wampa-like living in the cave system, at the very least.

“What are we going to do, Rex?”

With a comforting hand on your shoulder, he says, “Everyone’s going to stick together. We’ll pool half of our rope supply to mark our route, to start with, and use it as a guideline.” Beginning with the rope from Commander Tano’s pack, Rex hands Jesse a few tools to start from the mouth of the cave. Given several pitons and a hammer, the rope will be secured to the cave’s walls or floor.

A tube of concentrated colorant is also offered in the shade ‘GLARE RED’ - the GAR uses this stuff as a visual aid to mark important items. It behaves more like a paste than paint, and as the name kind of implies it shows up as a visual glare in most optics equipment. It works just as well with the naked eye; such a stark red is rather impossible to miss.

“This will keep us from getting lost. And I’ll be right there the entire time.” Rex promises you.

So long as one one’s blasters froze to the inside of their holsters, you should have nothing to worry about.

Moving as one group, exploring the cave and its rootlike system of passageways is done one cautious step at a time.

Somewhere after the thirtieth iteration of “Piton, rope, color.” carried out every fifteen feet you’ve ventured through the mountain, you began losing track of time. The direction you seemed to be facing. Now, you’ve lost complete sense of both. With each light source building off of another’s radius, much of the passageways you’ve walked through have been well-lit. That serves as a great comfort; the blooming sense of trepidation knocking your heart against your ribcage lessening the better you can see.

No matter what may be skulking around in the dark, other than Artoo bravely scouting ahead, Rex is never more than half a step away from you the entire time.

Walking beside you with his hand on your shoulder once more, nowhere in the galaxy feels safer than this.

Following R2D2, Commander Tano walks further ahead than the rest of the company. The yellow-green blade of her activated shoto lightsaber bathes the walls of the passageway in a slightly eerie light, something that makes the medic’s cryptic observation all the more disturbing. “What the- Commander Tano?” Kix calls in a voice hedged by discomfort, “Take a closer look at the sides of the passage walls. Doesn’t that seem a little… unnaturally formed? They look too smooth; almost like the tunnel is man-made.” The Jedi’s attention drawn, Kix demonstrates his finding voluntarily. Sweeping his hand along the wall, he locates very few spots that have a rougher texture than the rest of it.

“Maybe it’s an old magma tunnel, or something?” someone suggests.

Kix shakes his head, uncertain. “No. No, I don’t think so, vod...” He looks behind the expedition team down the passage they’ve already explored, murmuring. “I think the tunnel’s width is too uniform to be natural.”

Unable to confirm any explanation for the time being, the 501st agrees to continue on lest they begin to lose their nerve and folks start to get that ‘eopie in the headlights’ look about them. (Perhaps you, most of all.) First, though, everyone takes one calming, centering breath to negate the surging anxiety they feel. Steady heads and grounded nerves will provide the best protection against the unknown, the unseen, and the unexplained. Your trust in one another must be absolute, here. All should have faith in their brothers, their friends, to rise to the occasion and have their six in times of peril and need.

There must be five more repetitions of “Piton, rope, color…” before Torrent comes upon a large, inner chamber close to the heart of the mountain.

Here, soldiers find a few items of interest yet not quite of note.

Shed antlers are strewn throughout. Many are small. Perhaps a younger buck’s de-antlering at the conclusion of the year’s mating season, or an unlucky yearling who did not see the end of the revolutionary cycle. Some are larger. These are brittle; potentially due to age, deficiency, or lack of preservation against the cold.

Jesse nabs one set - small, still attached to a skull by the pedicles. There’s a smattering of material with a soft “mossy” appearance peeling from the calcified bone that makes several shinies groan uneasily. You can visualize the disgust under their helmets from the way it exudes in their voice.

“What are you doing with that…?”

“Collecting something for the vode in Analysis.” the ARC trooper replies matter-of-factly.

“I-Is that a good idea?”

Jesse shrugs. “Don’t see why not.” If he’s told to return or ditch them later, he will.

“Where are you gonna carry it? That won’t fit in your pack.”

Kix is requested for assistance. Once the medic has gotten a series of pictures of how the antlers connect to the skull, Jesse snaps the skeletal remains apart with a few swift motions. “Just the antlers should be enough.” he concludes decidedly. The sickening kra-chik! of each antler coming loose makes one rookie gag.

Artoo warbles with concern, scuttling to the trooper as fast as he can when they double over.

Woo-wooh?

“I’m okay, little guy. Eeugh… It just sounds like breaking plastoid.”

Hooo…

Torrent continues to explore this chamber for a few minutes more. No stone has been left unturned before the company proceeds through a tunnel found in a recession of the southern wall. The behavior of this slightly narrower tunnel differs from those prior - you climb in an endless, upward spiral, altitude alarms chirping all the while. Just before the spiral ends, the sound of high wind can be heard before this passage connects with another open space you predict is just below the summit.

Everyone finds themselves in one final, upper chamber with a pair of naturally formed “windows” in the mountain rock to explain where the sound comes from. These sizable exposure-points have allowed a significant amount of snow to accumulate within, making it colder than the rest of the cave system previously explored.

And here, you find proof of what you’ve been looking for at long last.

Carved into the chamber wall is a series of messages kept safe and sheltered against the relentless gales and freezing of the elements. All of them have been written entirely in Domabesh, curiously; this creates a buzz amongst the Clones with linguistics training as they set to work on transcribing these for the mission reports.

You feel the palpable high in everyone’s spirits now that there is evidence of life somewhere on this planet. Life that’s been here for a long time! This script has existed for at least a thousand years. Likely more. It may have potentially less prevalence than Aurebesh throughout the galaxy, but it’s not quite so forgotten that making heads or tails of the lettering will be a fruitless task.

The elation sours before long, however... A soldier by the name of Chatterbox postulates that these messages may very well be ones of woe when Captain Rex asks what the messages say.

“I’m not positive if it’s an earlier form or off-shoot of Domabesh yet, sir, but… I don’t think we’re going to find anyone here.”

“What makes you say that, Chatter?”

“The messages are all warnings, Captain. This one is a kind of farewell.”

Chatterbox shares what he’s pieced together of an initial transcript with the company, and hearts grow heavy with unease as he reads.

We humble, surviving people of Dethellum, leave a short series of accounts so that all this planet may know this is no habitable world. We have sought other planets after the Sky’s Great Shaking dis-anchored our beloved home from its place in the galaxy and flung us out among foreign stars. For a time our people lived by burrow and cave, but there were too few for our vast number when the Lasting Hibernation bore down on us. We lost many. In desperation we made great scores in the Most Sacred Bow in hopes our stars would show us more favor. But it was not to be. We leave by star-boat. May the Great Weaving guide us to greener worlds. If you have found our parting message, we implore you do the same. None will be here to bury you. This world is lost: do not allow Dethellum to take your life along with it.

While nearly sick with dread, you cannot recall ever hearing of a planet by this name. Nor can anyone, perhaps other than Commander Tano.

Recognizing something from her lessons at the Jedi Temple, the Togruta asks to borrow Chatter’s device and highlights a selection of words. “Could the ‘Great Shaking’ be the Legacy Run disaster…? That was, er, 7745 by the Coruscant Reckoning Calendar?” Commander Tano’s pause as she reads something is brief, but heavy. “For more than two centuries and thirty years… The Republic and Order assumed this planet was completely destroyed by the Run’s near-collision with another ship. There was so much debris ejected from hyperspace, so many anomalies. But it’s… still here.” Many troopers have questions about the bewilderment and awe in their commander’s voice, but they will have to wait.

“We should keep looking… See what the other inscriptions say.”

Every last one is full of despair. Laments that their most frost-resistance crops could no longer grow. Sorrow that the last “fourtusk” had been slain and eaten. Great grievings that become too distressing to read any longer. Dethellum had become another victim to the Emergences, a name given to those further disasters in the aftermath of the Legacy Run tearing itself to pieces when the ship’s age caught up with it. They had probably become one of many civilizations that were just… wiped out.

Apart from Dethellum’s accounts of woes, Torrent does find more items left behind by its people that suggest a potential connection to the ancestral heritage of another member of the Order (one that General Skywalker would need to confirm), and acknowledgement of the Force and its wielders.

Three stone slabs that have been arranged to make a triptych have been found and dug out of the snow. Each sport rudimentary depictions of people with long hair and bright, yellow eyes. Among these, figures in long, hooded clothing stand opposite one another, a series of thin rectangles used to convey crossed blades.

One blade had been painted blue. The other, red.

It seems the concept of the Jedi—and a… precursor to the Sith?—was familiar to them.

“Do you think they found another planet like they hoped? Still live somewhere, out in the galaxy?” Jesse wonders aloud, gingerly tracing the grooves and lines in the stone.

“Can’t say for certain. But I’m betting there’s a decent chance. Get a few more stills, and then we should be on our way.” Captain Rex advises, looking to the northern pole of this frozen astrological body from one of the mountain’s natural windows. “Storm seems to be growing in strength…” Rounding his shoulders, he symbolically shakes the sense, the worry, of danger creeping on the horizon off of himself.

Right now he needs to be level-headed; sitting and fretting is something the company doesn’t have time to afford if his instinct is to be believed. The soldiers that are charged with securing the samples in their personal packs should be offered help first. Ahsoka expressed that it would be important that the utmost care should be used to insure any located artifacts made it back to the Resolute in as close to one piece as possible. Something Rex certainly agreed with.

Once he’s finished with them, Rex moves to check in on you. You’re knelt in the snow, looking for a way to stash something in your bag for the return trip. Torrent’s been advised they’ll need to move fast, so everything that isn’t critical to navigation is best stowed away.

“Can I give you a hand with that?”

“I’d love that,” you answer with a grateful smile. “Packing gets trickier the second time around, somehow.”

Rex shares a hearty chuckle with you. “That it does. And how are you holding up?”

“Good; just eager to get back to the Resolute.”

The snow gear was doing an excellent job of keeping you warm, but you could really go for something warm to eat or drink right about now. And a thick blanket of some kind to burrow under until Dethellum’s chill had been forgotten. And a hot water soak in your personal quarter’s refresher.

You’d decide on what to do first once you got back to the gunships. Right now, you need to be more focused on not tripping over something while following the way back through the mountain using the rope left behind earlier. Jesse and the other ARC troopers collect the rope as the company makes its way back outside, seeing no sense to leave it behind.

“What if the Republic plans to make other trips to Dethellum and explore the same mountain we did? Wouldn’t it help them find that chamber near the top?”

Your confusion is reasonable, in his opinion, but Jesse has his own rationale for undoing the rope and piton system.

“It would! But having this rope would be a good idea in case of an emergency.”

Whatever kind of emergency would necessitate the use of this much rope is not something you wish to think about, so you utter a short “Oh, okay…” sort of phrase and turn your focus on helping the company round up the bikes. They had been left not too far from the cave entrance outside, though some of the speeders that had not been equipped with landing skis had managed to drift a little ways off.

Something that would have a massive domino effect on what was to come when the mountain began to thunder.

A distant crackle and rumble starts from the very peak. A terrible sense of dread comes over the captain—the hair on the back of his neck standing on end—as the sound carries downhill, intensifying. His armor’s early warning system bleats panickedly in his ears. Then whoops. Finally, wails.

This great noise is not from the storm. It's from something started by the storm.

And you’re all sitting mynocks down here.

Barreling down the mountainside is a lethal wall of snow, rock and debris, pressing down on all of Torrent Company.

But most importantly: you.

Rex throws open the comm channel and wastes no time; there is precious little of it to make his most crucial set of orders on this mission.

“Everyone, double-up on the bikes! It’s an avalanche – get out of the path!!”

Plunging into panic, you throw yourself into the rider’s saddle of the nearest swoop and punch the throttle forward. Running on base instincts, you’re fleeing southeast rather than following the flash-training on natural disasters. Escaping an avalanche means traveling in a direct, sideways route whenever possible if you’re not already caught up in one.

Fortunately Rex is not far behind on his own speeder. He’s able to catch up with you quickly, signalling for you to follow.

Unbeknownst to you, Captain Rex is the only one who followed after you in the commotion.

When disaster strikes, there’s no one there to help you.

Everything happened so fast.

Whether taken by surprise or dangerously distracted, two shouts of great alarm are made when Rex is suddenly launched forward, thrown from the speeder above the controls.

He lands a short distance ahead, and some part of his armor makes that sickening KAR-CHIK! on impact.

“REX!”

Punching the accelerator, your heart yo-yos between your throat and knees as you race for him. The two of you are still inside the avalanche's path, within its outer skirts, so you fervently pray to any galactic deity out there that he might be alive. To the Force itself.

Crumpled but stirring in the snow, you dig Rex out and lift him into the saddle of your speeder at record speed. Owing to hysterical strength, you escape the snow-slide’s torrential course in the nick of time as you ride ahead in search of shelter.

Reaching the eastern end of the ‘Sacred Bow’ mountain range, you locate a small cave in the foothills. After disembarking and finding nothing inside, you take the time you didn’t have before to carefully ease Rex off the speeder and keep him upright as you help him inside. With the winds blowing their hardest since your arrival and the fear of a second or even third avalanche, this is going to be your best bet for shelter.

The pain that comes with such dramatic, repeated exertions of energy begins settling in as you carefully prop the wounded cobalt captain against a part of the wall deeper in. You’ll have to push through it for now. Rex needs you more.

You hope to coax a few words out of him beyond pained groans. “Rex? Oh Force… Please talk to me. Just let me know you’re not dead, or something.” Momentarily stripped of their gloves, your hands carefully feel up his armor for fracturing or other damage to the plastoid. Panic stings through you when nothing is found on the first pass and Rex remains too still for your liking. “Please, Rex - I don’t know if you’re hurt, or-!”

“Been in… w-worse shape…” he bites out at last. It takes great effort to form every word, he’ll have to be forgiven for the lack of enunciation and the heavy slurring of his voice. “Are… You… okay?”

You’re relieved and stunned (and in pain) all at once. No. No, you’re really not okay, truthfully. Heart become a wild dove, you’re struggling to remain calm in a critical situation where you cannot afford to lose composure. You try to brush it off and insist to him that you need to make sure he is okay before you call Torrent Company for help, but Rex won’t let it go. “Are you okay?” he repeats, speaking with more force this time.

You’ve read enough holo-novels and mags to recognize what’s happening here: Rex is more concerned about you than himself. If you tell him that you’re fine—or at least in better shape than him—he’ll stop resisting your efforts to look over him. Rex’ll allow himself to drop his vigilance, his worrying and protective nature, and relinquish himself to your care.

You suck in a shaky breath. “I’m cold, and scared, and worried about the others. But I’m mostly okay... S-somehow.” Until you make contact with the company, there’s no telling how many troopers have been hurt. Or worse. Musculature injuries will be chump change compared to the loss of Rex’s men.

“Good…” comes the soft, relieved sigh. “Good.”

“We should try to reach the others once I take care of your injuries,” you say. Carefully, you resume patting down his armor for damage, even carefully removing his helmet since you’re sheltered from the wind’s reach. This is the first time his helmet has been removed since boarding the gunships and touching down on Dethellum. A moment that becomes so overwhelming by how much quiet pain you find in that warm, deep tan of his handsome face.

You incorporate these “tells” into your assessment, repeatedly asking “How badly does it hurt?” as you carefully prod along.

Thick brows buckle and bunch together when you’ve brushed over developing bruises. A sharp wince as each arm is examined. Whiskey-dark eyes flaring in alarm before you determine the large patch of red staining his thigh armor comes from a punctured tube of GLARE, not a nicked artery. The short, labored breath when you find an injury on his upper back that he couldn’t tell was there.

Not without you removing the back section of his armor, lifting part of his thermal bodysuit away, and pressing down on it with a glob of bacta and a glue-stat that you’ve pulled from the medkit in your supply-pack.

“You really don’t feel that?”

“No, I don’t,” Rex admits in another pant, “probably from the adrenaline.” Or from the throw. Or how he landed. Or the cold. There were probably a dozen rational explanations for why he couldn’t. But those mattered less to him than making sure you had enough material to take care of yourself, too.

Having lost his own pack, likely when he was thrown from the speeder, Rex refuses to take the singular dose of painkiller in your autoinjector.

“No, cyare… Keep it for yourself. It’s your medicine.”

“W-what? Why?”

You’re not on Drongar; this isn’t a rare medicine like bota. Rex needs this now. The muscular pain you feel is growing more unpleasant, but you can wait. Typically his altruistic nature was downright admiral; hell, even attractive. Right now it only creates a surprising amount of guilt. Rex got hurt because of you.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I panicked and now you’re hurt, and now I-” You have to make this right. You have to put him at ease, and then find a way to get in touch with the others. There’s so much that has to be done to ease this guilt and give the two of you the best, fighting chance at survival. “I made such a mess…”

When he takes your hand, you know the captain is going to kindly—nobly—try to shoulder the blame instead.

Rex has a little more than that in mind, however.

“No, kid… I’m sorry I got you into this mess in the first place. I’m the one who asked you to join the ground crew. The one who made the call not to send you back to the Venator before the storm started getting worse… You shouldn’t be here. I care about you, and I put you in harm’s way.”

“What are you talking like that for? We’ve been friends a long time; of course I know you care about me.”

He shakes his head gently. That isn’t what he means.

“If you don’t already, you should know I mean I care about you in another sense…”

Oh no: he didn’t get hurt because of you. Rex got hurt for you. “I-I’m going to spoil the moment by asking if you’re freezing to death on me, talking like this, aren’t I?” Quickly easing him forward, you return the back plating and wrap him in the emergency blanket for good measure. A short dig through your pack finds an extra knitwear cap smooshed down at the bottom.

It’s pulled over the naturally blond, close-shaven curls of his hair before Rex can get another word in. “S’okay, cyar’ika…” he murmurs comfortingly. A thick-gloved hand reaches just high enough to cup your cold-stung face, his thumb brushing over the apple in your cheek. “You couldn’t possibly spoil anything… And I’m not going anywhere.” Rex promises tenderly.

Not when he has the General and the Republic to fight for. His brothers.

You.

You'll find a way to make it out of this together. He's sure of it.

It'll just take a little hope that someone is there to answer the emergency transponder once the device has been activated.

Bundled together under the emergency blanket, you and Rex have never been more grateful, or happy, than you are now to hear so many voices at once when the signal goes through.

Rookies and experienced soldiers alike speak at speeds that would put hyperspace to shame.

“It’sthecaptainonheremergencybeacon! They’rebothalivethanktheForce!”

Kix laughs apologetically, trying to move further away from the triumphant ruckus, and not for the first time. “Sorry, Captain! Jesse’s having a hell of a time settling them down. We’re just relieved to hear from you. You two were the last we needed to hear from after the snow slide!”

“The last?” Rex asks in worry. “Did we lose anyone?”

“No! I’m relieved to report we didn’t lose anyone, sir - everyone’s alive!” That news is more miraculous than a miracle. (Thank the stars. Thank the Force!) Knowing it’s nothing a long dip in the bacta tanks can’t fix for the brothers caught by the flow kept the medic’s spirits high while they worked with Skywalker’s astromech through the storm. Every available trooper was determined to locate the final two members of the company. And now they knew you were okay. “How’s the kid holding up?”

“I’m in better shape than the captain, Kix,” you reply, adding that it’s great to hear from him. “He’s injured, and shaking more than a nervous tooka; this sweet di’kut insisted on sharing a few parts of his armor to keep me warm. Scared me half to death because I thought it was paradoxical undressing at first.”

“How injured?”

An uneasy chuckle bubbles up out of you. “Can’t say for certain. I took care of what I could with what I have.” Better than nothing. You’re training to be a nav officer, not a medic. Basic and portions of emergency aid is all you’d be capable of without Kix on the comlink to walk you through a far more dire situation. “Should I check again for something I may have missed?”

Kix admires your willingness, but encourages you to holster it for the time being. “Wait on that for now. Focus on keeping sheltered, okay? Adjust the warming function so we have a better chance of finding you two nice and toasty.” He waits patiently for confirmation the advanced thermo-regulator sensors are sending more power to the heat-coils carefully strung through the plastoid armor split between the two of you. “Really couldn’t convince him to take turns?”

“He told me “Not a chance, cyar’ika”... So I compromised.”

It’s not difficult to imagine the smiles from his brothers when you hear Jesse join Kix on the comm.

“How sweet of you, captain!”

“Jesse…”

Ignoring the warning, the ARC trooper assures you they’ll find you before long. “We’ll get to you as fast as we can, kid. Just hang tight. Keep your beacon on.”

“Safely. Don’t forget safely, please.”

“Heh. You got it, ma’am. Jesse and Kix out.”

Now came the impatient agony of settling in to wait for rescue. Not knowing how long it would be before seeing the faces of friends and brothers. Or how long you would need to keep each other calm, warm, and safe. But at least it could start with setting aside the transponder and moving closer together. Once adjusted, you and Rex each pull your ends of the first aid blanket tighter around yourselves. Locking in whatever warmth you can now will nudge the odds in your favor.

You’ll be able to wait out until nightfall, if you have to.

Rex feels there’s more he has to tell you before there’s any planning for that, first. More he should’ve said when you had cleaned and bandaged up his final injuries of blood earlier. Speaking in a sorrowful tone that threatens to cleave your heart in two, he again apologizes for getting you into this mess.

“I’m so sorry it all happened like this, ner burc’ya…” He never meant for you to come in harm’s way like this. Never. Never in a million lightyears. Nor did he want to confess to you like this. Confessing something so important—so heartfelt and personal—in a horrible or dangerous situation was a scenario he had always hoped to avoid. “On today of all days, no less.”

“I don’t follow,” you confess softly. “What’s so special about today, Rex?”

“It’s Life Day.”

You stifle a gasp of surprise. Having been so preoccupied with your work aboard the Resolute and the training to become a proper navigational officer, you had lost track of the holidays and didn’t even notice. It takes a little clever reflection to add truthful sentiment to your apologetic explanation when Rex, curious, asks why.

“When every day I get to spend with you feels like Life Day, it’s hard to notice when the real deal comes around, Rex.”

With or without his brothers being included, it’s easy to lose track of time in his company. Hard to miss the way he makes you feel. Or ignore how much you care for him. About him. The way he helped you out of a few back scrapes when the Venator was under Separatist attack thrice in one standard week had just been the beginning. Now, you…

You love him, undeniably.

It’s for his brains, his brawn, and even his beauty, too. It’s for the Triple-B-Threat and so many other, innumerable reasons. Ones you would prefer not to share in such harsh conditions.

In the light of your own confession, Rex has another he feels would be appropriate to share.

“Well in that case… I got you a gift. I’d like to give it to you when we make it back.” When you ask if he really did, Rex answers with an unbelievably tender nod. “Can I tell you what it is, cyare?”

It may be a while before Jesse, Kix, and the others in Torrent find your beacon; trying to keep one another talking in the meantime would be the smartest idea. Not just for morale, but to ensure the other was fairly cognizant.

So you agree. “Mhm.”

“It’s a book. Chatterbox got into book-binding recently… Asked him if he wouldn’t mind helping me make something special for you.”

“Awh, Rex… You made me a book?”

His head bobs beside you, the movement small. “Finished it last night. Haven’t wrapped it yet.”

Putting together a hand-made book just for you is such a thoughtful gesture that you could practically swoon. “Kark the wrapping paper - I’d love it even if you gave it to me in a pillowcase!” you declare. You can feel Rex starting to chuckle before he quickly regrets it, spurring a new swell of pain.

“Oh no,” he says with a decided shake of his head, “you don’t want one of our pillowcases… Deserve far better than that. More than a book, even.”

“Rex-”

“Mesh’la… You deserve the whole galaxy. And someone who has the power to give it to you.”

This is no time for humility. You panicked, and your friend put his damn life on the line to keep you safe. Not because you’re one of his brothers. Or because you’re part of the company today. But because he loves you.

“I don’t want the whole galaxy, Rex.” Pulling him closer, cold-trembling lips crown his forehead with a row of kisses before finally locking his lips with his own. “I’d rather have you.” Such a tender declaration would ordinarily embolden the injured man now in your arms, but collective pains and freezing temperatures keep each of you from doing something a little more reckless. Maybe even sensual and passionate.

So he finally agrees to take the painkiller when you offer it again from your medkit. The combination of the puh-chunk! and hissed release has never sounded so good. Immediate relief ebbs over him when the pharmaceutical enters his system, drawing a gentle sigh out as the tension fades away.

“Practically a natural.” Maybe you should think about helping Kix, if you ever grow tired of being a nav officer.

You rebuke him with a gentle laugh. “Hush. It’s so simple a B1 could do it.” That may be giving them too much credit. It makes Rex smile, at least.

A welcome disturbance to the comfortable quiet fallen over you, the emergency beacon begins to ping in a steady rhythm. Someone has a lock on the signal and opened the one-way channel to communicate with you.

“Captain Rex, this is General Skywalker. We have a lock on your beacon and we’re approaching you now. Heard that you had a little more excitement than the others from Artoo. How’s our nav officer doing; is she okay?”

Hah. Figures there’d be a few details lost or omitted in just a few rounds of Holo-call.

Spirits high, Rex smiles as he picks up the transponder, “Good to hear your voice, General. It’s a helluva Life Day miracle that she’s largely unharmed! I took the worst of it; but I should live to fight another day.”

“It’s a Life Day miracle that you’re both still with us, Captain. We’ll have you picked up and taken back to the Resolute in no time.” the Jedi promises. “Skywalker out.”

It was hard to argue with that. A shame you’d be leaving before determining whether or not Dethellum possessed any sort of atmospheric light phenomenon like many other polar worlds, but…

What better Life Day gift could there be than to make it out alive of a perilous set of circumstances with the people you loved and cared for most?

You may not believe me, but this is the abridged version of LoLD! I'm an over-explainer + writer by nature, I'm afraid... But I hope you all enjoyed this fic! A huge thank you to Kim for making a request and becoming a part of my 200 follower milestone celebration with everyone's favorite cobalt captain. 🩷

Taglist: @callsign-denmark @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit @dreamie411 @msmeredithrose + @returnofthepineapple @lonely-day3636

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#frostfics #Lost on Life Day #frosts 200 fantastic follower event #request fic #eternal-transcience #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #the clone wars fanfic #clone wars fanfiction #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x fem!reader #rex x reader #rex x fem!reader #captain rex x you #rex x you #x reader #scheduling for Valentine's Day since this fic is obviously too late for last X-Mas! 😅

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