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starry-crossing-zone · 6 months ago

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Crash and Fall - Rex

Summary: Rex won't give up hope that his Jedi lover is alive after the Jedi Purge. Length: 3.7k Warnings: Mentions of Jedi Purge; Angst; Longing; Clone Rebellion; Special Guest Stars; Mentions of Pregnancy

Rex stood beside the Y Wing as Ahsoka took a moment with his fallen brothers. He typed away at the datapad, attempting to send a long-range message. Across the galaxy, his brothers were murdering the Jedi against their will. And he was frantically trying to get in contact with one specific Jedi so that she did not become the next victim.

It might have been too late already to warn her, but Rex needed to try. He refused to accept defeat.

When the comm failed to go through again, Rex couldn’t help the burst of emotion. Driving his fist onto the top of the Y Wing and tossing the datapad away angrily, he slumped into a crouch. Steadying himself with one hand and resting the other against his face, he didn’t fight the tears.

Ahsoka slowly walked over to him and gave him a moment to gather himself, giving him the space to grieve. Although they had never had a frank conversation about it, Ahsoka understood enough to know why Rex’s inability to get a message out caused him to collapse. Rex slowly lowered his hand from his face and started to stand up again.

“No luck,” Rex replied quietly.

“Where was she stationed last?” Ahsoka asked softly.

“More than halfway across the galaxy,” Rex stated, closing his eyes with despair.

They were too far away to help her. It would take them days to reach her. And he wasn’t even sure if that was her actual last location. Plans changed in a moment in the GAR. It was a start, but it was also more than likely swarmed with his brothers, who would try to murder them the moment that they arrived on the scene.

“There’s still hope, Rex,” Ahsoka replied quietly. “There’s still a chance.”

Rex nodded slowly, not trusting his words, before he turned to the Y Wing again. He climbed into the pilot’s seat and input coordinates to a safe location before starting the take off procedure. And trying to block the images of his beloved with blaster holes in her chest from his mind.

*~*~*~*

Washa was not a heavily populated planet. It was far from the major space lanes and had remained neutral during the war because there was nothing on the planet worth fighting over. It was mostly farmers and traders. No one of importance. Just like the Jedi were of no importance anymore. It was no wonder she fit in so well.

“Two please,” she told the vender, holding out the credits.

“Price just went up actually,” he remarked, turning his two noses up at her. “You need five more.”

She withdrew her hand and looked at the credits. Letting out a sigh, she stowed some of the credits back in her pocket and turned back to the greedy vender.

“Just one then.”

Taking her purchase, she stowed it in her bag and kept walking. She bought rations and some water before making the walk back to the small hut that she now called home. It would have to do, for her true home was gone. Destroyed. Forever. Sitting down, she crossed her legs and tried to meditate.

It had been a month since her own men turned against her. Men that she fought beside for years, thought she knew, men that she was prepared to die with. They raised their blasters at her and tried to kill her. And they had nearly succeeded too.

The scars on her back burned at the painful memory and she forced herself to take a breath. Pushing past the pain that lingered, she tried to connect with the Force again. Resting her hands with her palms upwards, she took a deep breath.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.”

After she managed to escape the assault and effectively faked her own death, she had all but severed her connection to the Force. To reach out and feel the gaping, open wound quickly overwhelmed her and she had withdrawn into herself to survive.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is—”

She tensed as the nightmares that plagued her while she slept crept into the daylight. Ones that involved a clone in blue-painted armor raising his blasters at her. She shook her head, trying to banish the images, swearing to herself that Rex would never hurt her. She trusted him with her life. She cared for him well beyond the considerations of her culture.

But she trusted Sinker too. And Boost. And Comet. And they had all fired on her just the same.

And when it became too much, as it had countless times before, she broke down, holding her head in her hands as she struggled to hold onto her sanity.

*~*~*~*

“But we managed to save the padawan,” Hunter stated, causing Rex to pick his head up.

“Have you run into any Jedi since?” he asked, sounding more alert.

“No, none.”

Rex nodded slowly, trying to mask his disappointment. He spun his glass around on the bar top, letting his thoughts drift for a moment, before he focused back on the present. Echo, however, noticed the change in his brother.

“You’re looking for her?” Echo asked Rex knowingly. Rex turned to Echo and nodded slowly. “Tech can look in the Imperial database for you.”

“Already checked. Read the report. She’s . . .”

Rex trailed off, being very careful with his words. He knew what the report said. He’d practically memorized it at this point. But he also knew that these reports weren’t always accurate. He was dead, according to the Empire, so there was still a chance. And a chance was all that he needed. Hope was all that he needed. And it was all he had too.

“There’s a chance . . . and I need to know for myself.”

“I came back from the dead. So could she.” Nodding slowly to show his support for Rex, Echo promised him, “We’ll keep an eye out for her.”

“Thank you, Echo.”

*~*~*~*

When she felt that she had overstayed her welcome back on Washa, she found her way off planet. The number of planets that she would consider both safe and habitable was extremely low, but she managed to find her way to a small moon in the Outer Rim. It was warm, almost jungle-like and full of life. And she hoped that it would help her reconnect with the Force.

Weeks passed and she fell into a routine. There were a few remote villages scattered around the jungle and she made a few tentative acquaintances, but she was always quick to return to her alcove. She had managed to build a small home up in the trees and was starting to settle in.

And that was when the Force decided to pull the rug out from under her all over again.

Dropping her hands from her abdomen, she stared down at them as tears filled her eyes. Memories of her last few nights with Rex came to mind. They assumed that it was impossible or at least highly unlikely. They were safe in the beginning but as the war drew on and their ever-fragile mortality weighed on both of them, they forwent it.

And the spark in the Force that she sensed was the unmistakable result of that carelessness.

She fell forward and curled up on herself, that same fear that ate away at her for months now crawled up her spine yet again. Every labored breath she took pushed that numbing pain closer to her heart and mind, igniting flames where the now healed blaster bolt wounds had laid. She picked her head up, refusing to succumb again, but also terrified and alone, she reached out into the Force.

“Master,” she begged softly, “what am I going to do?”

*~*~*

Rex set his ship down on the dirt of a remote backwater planet that Senator Organa assured him would be a safe meeting location. Walking down the gangplank, Rex took off his helmet when he spotted Bail descending from his own ship. The two men greeted each other politely.

“What is this planet anyways?” Rex asked as he turned to follow the senator into his ship.

“It used to be inhabited two centuries ago. But then a civil war broke out and eventually destroyed all of the resources on the planet, forcing the survivors off world,” Bail explained, glancing out at the dustball. “And it’s not strategically located, so the galaxy has left it alone.”

Rex stared out at the landscape again, frowning as he thought about the galaxy’s current situation before heading inside the transport. They discussed intel and exchanged information. Rex delivered a copy of some Imperial intel that Nemec had managed to gather and Bail offered him what little he had heard about the remaining clones.

“You haven’t heard anything about any Jedi, have you, Senator?” Rex asked quietly.

“Not the one you seek information on, no,” Bail replied, causing Rex to look down. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“All the more reason to keep fighting,” Rex reasoned, earning a nod of support from Bail. Grabbing his new intel, Rex added, “I won’t take up any more of your time. And I should be getting back to my men with this new intel.”

“Of course.”

“May the Force be with you, Senator.”

“And May the Force be with you too, Rex.”

*~*~*

“I told you that the hyperdrive was acting funny!” Echo huffed with frustration.

The Bad Batch struggled to their feet after crash landing on a remote jungle moon in the Outer Rim. Hunter was first back to his feet and quick to check Omega over for any injuries or scratches from their crash landing. Tech straightened up from his seat and slowly moved to stand.

“It appears that there was a slight misalignment,” Tech stated, adjusting his goggles.

“Slight?” Hunter emphasized sarcastically. He looked out at the dense jungle through the viewport and sighed. “Let’s get the door open.”

With a bit of an extra push from Wrecker, the door of the Marauder opened and the Bad Batch spilled out into the jungle. Hunter kept Omega close, aware of the high number of life forms crawling around. The Batch tried to pull the Marauder out from the dense foliage that it crashed into, but it was of no use. Not even Wrecker’s full strength was enough to pull it out. And not with light fading.

“What are we going to do?” Omega asked, glancing between her brothers. “It’s starting to get dark.”

“And I’m starving!” Wrecker sighed, sitting on the root of a large tree.

It was eventually decided, after some deliberation with Tech, to scout the nearby area for sources of food and water, as their rations were already low. Hunter led the way into the jungle with the team forming a single-file line behind him. Entering a clearing, Hunter scanned the area when Wrecker stepped around him.

“Hey, look!” Wrecker yelled, pointing over at some vines berries growing on them. “I bet that we can eat those berries!”

“I would disagree with eating whatever you find on the ground out here,” Tech stated, shaking his head as Wrecker ran over to investigate. “And there is a high probability that those berries could be poisonous to us.”

“Then let’s figure out what they—”

Wrecker yelled out when he was suddenly strung up by his ankle by a thick rope. It was looped over a branch of the tree side Wrecker and connected to a pulley system.

“Wrecker!” Omega yelled out as Hunter ran forward to help his brother.

He scaled the tree and jumped, slicing through the rope with his vibro blade. Wrecked landed roughly, but he was unharmed. As the Bad Batch gathered around Wrecker to assess the situation, the sound of a rifle clicking caused Hunter to spin around, putting himself in front of Omega protectively.

“Someone’s out there,” Hunter warned, pulling out his blaster. “And they’re armed.”

“The person who set the trap, more than likely,” Tech stated, scanning the jungle around them. “Though this system is not listed as civilized.”

“Where are they?” Echo asked, looking around the jungle. “Up in the trees? On the ground?”

Hunter paused for a moment, waiting to hear the individual again. But then he suddenly turned and held his blaster up, pointing at the shadows. A hooded figure stood just out of the light, with a rifle in hand that was aimed straight at the Bad Batch.

“Easy,” Hunter stated, trying to reason with the individual. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” a feminine voice replied, a bit gruffly. Echo paused for a moment, frowning at the familiarity of the voice. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around, head back to your ship, get the kark off of this moon, and never come back.”

“We cannot complete that sequence of events. Our ship is damaged and stuck in the jungle growth. We are unable to get it out on our own,” Tech spoke up, causing the rifle to briefly train on him. “If you could point us to the nearest spaceport—”

“—There are none.”

“Then perhaps you have a device that we can use to remove our ship from the growth,” Tech continued, seemingly unfazed by the rifle. “Seeing as that is in line with your own objectives, it should be reasonable for you to provide us with assistance if you are able.”

“No.”

“Then perhaps—”

“—Are you always this talkative with someone holding you at blaster point?” the woman interjected, growing steadily more annoyed.

“Just him,” Wrecker stated, nudging Tech.

“General?” Echo called, causing the woman to hesitate. “Is that you?” The rifle lowered a bit more and Echo stepped forward, removing his helmet. “It’s me. Echo.”

“Who is it?” Omega questioned Echo curiously.

“A Jedi?” Hunter asked, causing the rifle to quickly lock on him.

“The Jedi are all dead,” the woman spat, though the edge of grief was easy to detect to Echo’s ear. “The Empire made sure of that.”

“We helped a Jedi escape,” Wrecker spoke up, causing the woman to train her rifle on him.

“A padawan. Caleb. He was General Billaba’s padawan,” Hunter recalled, causing the woman’s finger to shake as it rested against the trigger. “We received Order 66, but we never carried it out.”

“And they removed their chips,” Omega chirped, causing the woman to pause.

“What chips?” she demanded, causing Echo and Hunter to share a look.

“All clones were designed with inhibitor chips built into our brains. They were primarily designed to make us more obedient, especially to several predesigned codes to carry out specific orders that we would otherwise hesitate to complete,” Tech explained rapidly. “Every clone who heard the command, save for us really, immediately lost control of their minds and bodies to carry out the order.”

“Order 66,” she breathed out, remembering what Comet had been muttering to himself.

She looked down, starting to piece together the timeline of what happened that dark day. Echo shared a look with the other Bad Batchers before turning back to her.

“We all removed our chips. And we have the scars to prove it. And if you need, Tech can show you the report explaining what the chips are.” After a moment, he added, “It was written by Rex. Before the order came through.”

At the mention of Rex, she lowered the rifle completely. And after a moment’s hesitation, she stepped out into the light. Staring down at them with a measure of distrust still in her eyes, she sat the butt of her rifle down against the branch.

“Show me.”

After reading through the report for the third time, she tossed the datapad down to Tech again. Jumping down from the branch, she landed gracefully and straightened up. There was still an edge of distrust to her stance, but she looked more like the general that Echo remembered that a frightened hermit. And he considered that to be a success.

But when he glanced at the pack on her back, he paused. Because it was moving.

“Why are you here? What brought you here?” she asked, glancing between the Bad Batch.

“His faulty calculations,” Hunter explained, earning a sharp look from Tech in return.

“It was a minor misalignment.”

“You said that your ship is damaged?” she inquired, causing Echo to shake his head.

“We don’t think so. It’s just stuck in the vines.”

“Well, you won’t have any luck getting it out in the dark, even with my help,” she replied seriously. “There’s a lot more that lurks out here that you don’t want to run into in the dark.” After a moment of thought, she added, “Follow me.”

She turned around and for the first time, the Bad Batch could see what was in her pack. Or rather who was in her pack. A little swaddled baby was strapped to her back. Staring at the Batch, the baby cooed and giggled at their incredulous expressions.

“Is that . . .?” Hunter trailed off, sharing an incredulous look with Tech.

“A baby?” Omega completed softly.

The former Jedi turned around and slowly slipped her arm out of her pack until her son was strapped to her chest instead of her back. Resting her hands on the sides of his carrier, she slowly turned to look at the flabbergasted expressions of the clones in front of her.

And Echo couldn’t help but notice the blond hair atop the baby’s head.

“What’s his name?” Omega asked, taking a few steps forward.

“Atin.”

“Tenacious,” Tech translated quickly, adjusting his goggle. “In Mando’a, that is.”

“Yes,” she agreed, gently running her hand over her son’s head.

“Did he know?” Echo inquired quietly, causing her to shake her head.

“I didn’t even know. How would he?”

With a bitter smile, she turned and called for them to follow her again. Echo moved to walk beside her and Hunter held the others back a step, trying to give them some semblance of privacy. Echo glanced down at the baby content in the carrier before turning to the baby’s mother.

“He’s alive,” Echo stated softly, causing her to turn to him. “He’s alive. And he’s free.” After a moment, Echo added quietly, “And he’s looking for you.”

She nodded slowly, careful to step over a root, before carrying on her way. Echo walked beside her, giving her a moment to process the news. Reaching the base of a large tree, she turned to Echo with a tentative look in her eyes.

“Where is he?”

“It changes by the rotation,” Echo replied honestly. “He’s running around the galaxy. Freeing brothers. Stoking rebellions. Gathering intel.”

“I don’t think he knows how to relax,” she commented with an edge of humor before she glanced down at the child strapped to her chest. And then the smile slowly faded. “Do you think that you can convince him to come here? Alone?”

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer from him,” Echo promised her, causing her to smile softly again. “Rex didn’t give up on me. And it’s my turn to return the favor whether he likes it or not.”

“It’s like you two are brothers or something,” she joked, walking over to a hanging vine. Tugging on it until a ladder rolled down to the jungle floor. “Neither of you know how to give up.”

“It’s not in our blood,” Echo stated, glancing down at her baby. “Nor his.”

“Why do you think I named him ‘Atin’?” she asked rhetorically before moving to climb.

*~*~*~*

Rex wasn’t sure what Echo was thinking when he came out of hyperspace and spotted the jungle moon ahead. But he trusted Echo, so he flew towards the coordinates that Echo provided him. Slowly setting down the Y Wing on the jungle floor, Rex hopped out and started his short walk. Coming up on the meeting location, Rex looked around curiously when he heard a branch break behind him.

Grabbing his blaster, Rex whirled around, ready to defend himself. But when he saw her standing there, he dropped his blaster out of shock.

“Cyare?” he called softly, like he couldn’t believe that it was her.

“Rex,” she returned, smiling nervously.

Rex walked forward slowly. His blaster laid forgotten on the jungle floor. With his eyes never leaving her figure, he moved like a man possessed. She remained still, forcing her body to stay where it was, even as her mind screamed to move, to flee. Her nightmares started to creep up again but when Rex gently cupped her cheek, she returned to the present.

“What?” she asked quietly, staring up at him with tears in her eyes. “What is it?”

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he replied, causing her lips to wobble.

They quickly held onto each other, in disbelief that they were able to have the honor again. Rex cupped the back of her head to keep her close and let his tears slip free. She buried her face in his neck, ignoring the uncomfortable way that the plastoid dug into her. She didn’t care. Rex was here. Her Rex was here. Despite everything, he was finally here. They were finally back together.

Rex only loosened his grip when he heard a gentle cry echo through the jungle. Looking up, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, he turned back to her as she grabbed his hand. Gently leading him up the path and to the home that she built for them, she stepped inside. Rex, his heart thudding hard in his chest, waited a moment before walking in behind her.

And when she turned around with a baby in her arms, he fell to his knees.

She smiled, drying her own tears, before moving to join him on the floor. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, she held out their son to Rex for the first time. After hesitating for a moment, he gently moved to cradle his son—his son—against his chest.

“I believe you now,” she quipped, wiping his tears away.

“Believe me about what?” he croaked out, turning back to her with a loving expression.

“You are a natural blond.”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #captain rex x jedi reader #captain rex x oc #captain rex x reader #captain rex #tcw #sw tcw #sw tbb #rex x reader #rex x oc #star wars tbb

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1-have-no-idea · 7 months ago

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how they kiss you: part one

Clone force 99:

character(s): Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo

genre: fluff, romance, crack (kinda)

overview: this is literally just how the boys would kiss you. literally just that.

warning(s): Tech doesn’t know how to kiss, Crosshair is a freak, (jk, he just gets a lil spicy with it), mentioned of making out, slobber, Hunter’s a lil suave, sexual innuendos, references and implications of smut

Hunter:

-okay, but he’s such a gentleman while doing it?

-it depends on his mood really, and what the occasion is.

-Hunter doesn’t overdo kisses, but out of all of them, he is the one who probably will give the most (besides Wrecker, ahem.)

-He’ll kiss you when you wake up, when you make him food, right before he leaves, and when you go to bed.

-Unless he’s feeling a little… ahem. Y’know. A lil teasing that day

-His kisses are deep but short. Enough to make you blush but also leaving you yearning for more

-he’s a lil tease, but if you pout about it, he’ll just send you that boyish smile and give you another one

-”don’t gotta miss me that much, mesh’la,”

-yeah. That’s him..

-Hunter probably has somewhat chapped lips, (as most clones), but not to the point where they scrape yours. And they’re also somewhat thin (like most clones), so basically, they’re not that different from a regs

-except they’re a bit plushier, if that makes sense

-his stubble WILL scratch against you

-he’ll rarely give tongue unless he’s feeling a little freaky and has the intention on, well, y’know.

-”spread those legs, mesh’la,”

-yeah, y’know, the fun stuff

-so yeah.

-kisses are like a 10/10, would recommend

———————————————————————————

Tech:

-SO AWKWARD.

-sorry Tech lovers, but like. We’re talking about the Tech, the one who can’t understand or take hints whatsoever…

-a NERD.

-he’s such a virgin, smh

-but like… a subtle virgin, ykwim?

-you wouldn’t know he was a virgin. Like, you literally wouldn’t.

-until you kissed him and he expressed his shock and stated that this was an ‘interesting development.’

-”....fascinating. Do it again. This time I’d like to record the acceleration of our heart rates and the texture of your lips against mine. Allow me to retrieve my datapad–”

-yeah. Like. It’s either the most hottest thing hearing him talk all smart after the kiss or the most ‘dude, are you serious’ kinda thing.

-Tech is not really a kisser, but a pecker

-they’re not frequent, but they’re enough for you to still kinda expect them, yk?

-his kisses are chaste and respectful. Never awkward, but usually quick.

-such as, a kiss on your knuckles or your temple or hair. Tech doesn’t go for lips, but he doesn’t mind if you initiate those to him and he will depending on the mood you or him are in

-i actually like to think his lips are actually kinda soft. Not like, baby smooth, but soft.

-i don’t think he gets needy for them, but there are times where he really just wants to feel your lips on him

-he loves the texture and the warmth.

-he won’t really ask though.

-it’s more for ‘experimentation’, in his words.

-”I’d like to explore this further with you. This time, can you kiss me a little bit firmer?”

-7/10 in the beginning, but Tech learns quickly and is extremely observant, and soon learns exactly where to nip, suck, bite, lick, and kiss.

-just give him a little more lessons

-for science, of course

———————————————————————————

Wrecker:

-okay guys

-he is NOT as innocent as he looks, i’m sorry

-respectful, yeah. Gentle, yeah.

-but INNOCENT?? Yeah, no.

-have you seen that deleted scene in clone wars with the Padme art?

-”Yeah, she could negotiate with me any time!”

-erm. Guys.

-and that translates in his kisses.

-he’s not shy whatsoever.

-gentle, of course, but you want him to be rough?

-oh, he’ll be rough.

-okay, let me backtrack, so when y’all are still new to a relationship and all that, he’s nervous. Holds you like glass and kisses you like he’s unsure if he even wants to.

-he was scared. He knows he’s a big guy, and doesn’t wanna hurt you.

-but once you get to that point in your relationship with a lotta reassurance and carefulness and praise and teasing

-my man is most definitely a tank

-and packing one too– ahem.

-he kisses a lot. Anywhere. Kinda worships you with his mouth, lips, tongue and all. Take that as you will.

-his kisses are passionate. Deep. Like his love for you, but they can also be gentle. Soft.

-Large hands will come and cradle you or hold your hips in place, he loves picking you up when you kiss.

-his lips are different, they’re PLUSH. Plump, and bigger than his other brothers. Fully cushioned. It’s nice.

-”Hey! One more, baby! Miss ya already!”

-he’s actually a good kisser. Like, you’ll be starstruck

-and he’ll be giggling

-the type to be giggling and grinning into the kiss

———————————————————————————

Crosshair:

-holy. Where do I even start with him.

-he’s smooth. Annoyingly so.

-the type to kiss you to shut you up

-out of all his brothers, I feel like he gets hit on the most when he’s out and about.

-it’s just cuz he’s ‘mysterious’

-he’s actually never really interested, unless he’s feeling rather frisky and pent up

-when he’s not being angsty and emo, he’s actually low-key kinda flirty with you whenever moments like that actually do pop up.

-and you better believe, all his kisses include tongue.

-you go in for a kiss, that’s you asking for a makeout session, and if he’s feeling mischievous, he’ll tear away and walk away leaving you a breathless and yearning and hot and bothered mess.

-”So desperate for me and all I did was kiss you.”

-BULL. That’s bull. He knew what he was doing.

-there are moments where he’ll be gentle with you though. Usually when he feels vulnerable.

-others, they’re rough yanks to him. Hand on the back of your neck and slamming his lips on yours.

-tongue swiping over your bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, soothing it with his tongue again before licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue once or twice.

-messy and they lead to a messy bed afterwards too.

-most definitely a lil freaky

-and guess what? Despite having one of the thinnest lips, they’re baby smooth.

-wanna know why? Skincare.

-he’s obsessed with it. What a princess.

-yet he still looks sixty.

-not down below.

-definitely doesn’t feel like one.

-anywho, that’s not the topic, so he has really soft lips and knows how to use them

-WILL smirk into the kiss

-cocky bastard

-100% recommend if you wanna get laid.

-”Careful what you’re asking for, doll.”

———————————————————————————

Echo:

-my sweet baby

-i love him sm

-he’s shy in the beginning, but so gentlemanly

-his kisses really express his love for you. Every emotion, every feeling is poured out into that kiss.

-whether it be I love you, I missed you, I’ll be back, be safe, don’t be back too late,

-yeah.

-they’re deep and firm and gentle, but not timid

-he is NOT shy of his love for you

-one arm around your waist, his bionic hand cradling the back of your head, it’s so sweet

-he loves cupping your face with his flesh hand while kissing you

-he just loves the contact

-kisses are frequent, but not too

-he loves dancing with you and dipping you into a kiss.

-cliche, but Echo is an old-school romantic, believe it or not

-swaying around you, spinning you with a warm smile on his face, pale brown orbs glowing gold as he looked at you,

-”you’re beautiful,”

-and it’s a soft-spoken promise as he presses his lips to yours

-he does have cold lips, but it’s a nice feeling against your warm ones

-please pepper his cold skin with kisses, he’ll be a puddle for you and feel so loved, (and warmed up.)

-anywho, he doesn’t have that much experience, so teach him, because he’d love to learn.

-all in all, he just loves you so much–

-so sweet

-”Love you, angel. C’mere, lemme give you another one.”

#clones x reader #the bad batch #tcw x reader #tbb x reader #echo x reader #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader

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polkadotloser · 13 days ago

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mdni .•’*

Anakin Skywalker alphabet

(my interpretation of the boyish episode || ani)

A – Aftercare: What are they like after sex? Affectionate? Distant? Clingy?

he is very very clingy in my personal opinion. I imagine him clinging onto her and possibly staying inside her—not out of a cockwarming kink but purely because it makes him feel connected. I have a feeling he checks in—worried he might of done something wrong or you didn’t like it.

B – Body part: What’s their favorite body part on their partner?

ok so, I think that ani likes to say “her lips” or “her eyes” because it’s mostly true and sounds extra romantic but he’s only a sucker for breasts. small, big, medium. it’s not even a sexual thing (some of the time) because he merely think they are just beautiful.

C – Cum: Where do they like to finish? How messy are they?

I imagine Anakin as a cowgirl/missionary kinda guy. so it depends. when she’s on top he’ll climax all over his twitching stomach muscles and when he’s on top he will climax on her stomach. I personally don’t think he would cum on a girls face (at least one he really likes) because it feels ‘degrading’ or ‘disrespectful’ (but if she showed that she was okay with it, he wouldn’t argue)

D – Dirty secret: What’s something spicy they secretly fantasize about?

I feel if he is going for someone a little older (padme) or someone who sees him a little boy his ultimate fantasy is having that girl tell him how ‘manly’ or ‘mature’ he is. not out of ego but so he feels he’s enough for her.

E – Experience:

mmm, no. he doesn’t have much experience. maybe a few kisses or even heavy patting but besides from that he doesn’t really. when it comes to having a relationship when he does have intimacy i imagine him as very eager—like any hormonal guy. in the beginning of the relationship he’ll be very shy or nervous about sex but once he gets confirmation by his partner that she wants it, it’s game on.

F – Favourite position: What’s their go-to position or kink?

like I said either missionary or cowgirl. though I think he is often very tired or sore from a mission or training so he likes to lay back and watch the girl he loves feel good on him.

G – Goofy: Can they laugh during sex or are they serious?

I think he likes to pretend to people that he’s all mature and serious but during sex with someone he loves or a girlfriend he’s very much all smile and giggles if either him or her messes up. (Though he’s quick to stroke her hair if she messed up and encourages her to “keep going”)

H – Hair: Do they care about body hair—on themselves or others?

I think for himself he still has hair but he’s trimmed. he’s happy to compromise if his partner wants him to grow it out or shave more—it’s not super important what his hair looks like. on the other end I think when it comes to hair on his partner he likes trimmed. if it completely bald or bushy he won’t complain but he prefers trimmed curls. bald feels artificial and bushy can be scratchy. as for leg hair I think he prefers smooth shaven but if shes a few days late to shave and it’s prickly—or a little over grown it’s not a turn off.

I – Intimacy: What makes them feel closest to their partner?

I think being held close. hands in hair, bodies flush and soft kisses. even in non sexual situations, it makes him feel extremely close to his partner.

J – Jack off: Do they touch themselves often? Do they think about their partner when they do?

oh brotha. I think because he’s nineteen and usually disciplined in other parts of life he loves to burn off some steam. humping his pillow, rubbing or stroking himself. depends what his day was like. when it comes to thinking of his partner he never thinking of her in a degrading or overly crude way. usually just the gentle/propionate curve of her hips or brushing her hair back to expose her neck. though saying that he is definitely still a hormonal ‘teen’ so sometimes his mind wonders to dirtier places.

K – Kinks: What are their top 3 kinks?

1. Having his braid tugged (lightly)

2. Leaving love bites on his partners chest or shoulders

3. hearing his partner call him a nickname like ani or so on

L – Location: Favorite place to get it on (besides the bedroom)?

in a quite romantic place. a field, balcony or in the under a shady tree. there aren’t much other places to do so and even though he likes his own bed and the idea of sharing an intimate moment with his partner in his bed, if he was caught in the Jedi temple with a girl it would be devastating.

M – Moan: Are they loud? Do they try to hold it in?

in the beginning when he’s trying to seem all manly and experienced he’ll do everything to hold back every sound but when she gives him a funny look or insists she wants him too (or he’s just with someone he really trusts) he’s a mess of groans and even whimpers.

N – No: what is a hard limit for them?

i think degrading of himself or of her. he wants to feel validated or special so being called ‘bad’ or being told ‘is that all you’ve got’ when he’s giving it his all can crush him. he also won’t degrade her (heavily at least) because he respects her too much. things like ‘aww poor ani’ in a condescending tone from his partner can be a bit hot but nothing passed that.

O – Oral: Giving or receiving? How do they feel about it?

he likes oral but usually he just likes her to lick or suck softly, making her cry or gag doesn’t fully appeal to him. he does thrust into her mouth a little but never to the point of her gagging or struggling. I think he’s not a total muncher, YET. I think when his teenage urges to just ‘go at it’ will slow down in time and he will grow to appreciate more thorough. not that he can’t get his girl wet with some murmured words, a make out and some heavy patting.

P – Pace: Fast and rough or slow and sensual?

in the beginning he’s very slow and carful but as the hormones and need for more sets in his slow thrusts turn into quick grinds. I think the only time he goes hard enough to be considered rough is after a long day or a built up of need. when he only goes fast if he’s on top of his partner, he burys his face into her neck or hair when he does it. he even bear hugs her when his arms are too tired to keep himself up.

Q – Quickie: Yes or no? When and where?

I think he much prefers more special and ‘time spotting, no rush’ intimacy but when he’s very worked up or in a rush he’s loves a good quickie. he’s very excited and infatuated with his partner so he does cum quickly easily (haha). I imagine this happening before she has to sneak out of his room or when he sees her in a dress that looks particularly eye catching.

R – Risk: Are they into public play or getting caught?

no sadly. I think that if he wasn’t a padawan he would love gropes in public or making out in the market but if anyone saw and told his master he would be in a world of trouble. the furthest he goes with the public/risk of getting caught is when he sneaks you into his room in the Jedi temple. though the idea of having his tongue in your mouth in the middle of the market and seeing a guy jealously watch as he kisses such a pretty girl.

S – Stamina: How many rounds can they go? How long do they last?

without pulling out or taking a break I imagine him lasting 5-7 ish minutes. when he pulls out occasionally to calm down or he and his partner pauses for a few seconds he can last probably 15. when he’s only lasting around 5 minutes he can probably go 2-3 rounds but with each round he gets sloppier and more sensitive (poor ani)

T – Toys: Do they use toys? Which ones?

I can’t imagine a young jedi owning any toys for himself and I don’t think he likes the idea of something else pleasing his partner. I don’t think so. the closes he uses to a toy is just lube haha.

U – Unusual: What’s something unexpected that turns them on?

seeing his partner use a lightsaber. grunting, sweating and swinging the buzzing weapon does things to Anakin. I don’t really think it’s a ‘dom scary thing’ that turns him on because I think he could also find it really attractive if she’s struggling or being clumsy. just seeing her try something he loves so much is… idk.

V – Volume: Are they loud in bed? What do they sound like?

“ah!” or “ahhh” that’s all I’m gonna say (just look at the noises he makes when he’s in pain)

W – Wild card: Random spicy headcanon of your choice!

he feels SO guilty and pervy doing this but sometimes he might use the force to make her dress skirt lift up a little or to brush her hair away from her neck. he feels so guilty after, he knows it’s really wrong and he doesn’t do it again.

X – X-Rated: What kind of dirty talk do they use, if any?

I imagine it’s all praise. “you’re so so pretty” or “oh maker… your j-just so perfect”. he doesn’t say it to impress her or to swoon her, he says it because he can’t really help it. it simply spills out and he gets this urge to tell his lover how perfect they look, sound and feel. if he doesn’t he feels like he’s doing them an injustice.

Y – Yearning: How do they act when they’re really turned on but can’t have their partner?

terrible. wether it’s his crush or his partner and he can’t have them he YEARNS. like close to tears and stomach in terrible knots kind of yearning. if it’s a crush that he can’t have or he’s on a mission and hasn’t seen his partner in days or even weeks it sometimes does drive him to to hug his pillow tightly and sniffle.

Z – Zzz: How quickly do they fall asleep after? Do they cuddle?

sleepy ani :-(

he’s so tired and exhausted after drawn out intimacy. he collapses on you or you collapse on him and it’s lights out. he falls asleep murmuring after and sleepy whispers. I imagine that half way through a sweet or praising compliment or check in that he did alright before you can even respond he’s snoring away… (oh my Shayla.)

xoxo polka

(Anyone want a Stephen one?)

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin walker smut #alphabet #star wars tcw #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars #star wars the clone wars #sweet!anakin #lover!anakin #Jedi!anakin #anakin smut #smut

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lovecumdumpy · 26 days ago

Text

Filling the Emptiness

↳ “you don’t have to be perfect. you just have to stay.”

➤ anakin skywalker x reader

summary ⭑ you’ve been falling apart quietly. training too long, eating too little, keeping your pain wrapped in silence. but anakin has always paid too much attention—has always cared too much to let it go.

The Temple kitchens were always quiet after hours. A few lingering droids hummed about, cleaning the chrome counters and sanitizing the few dishes left behind by late-night Padawans. You weren’t supposed to be here.

You sat at one of the corner tables, arms folded across your stomach as though to keep the gnawing ache from swallowing you whole. A cup of untouched caf sat in front of you, going cold.

You hadn’t eaten today. Not really. A few bites of fruit during training. That was all you had allowed. The rest had felt too heavy. Too much.

“Why does this feel like a punishment?” you whispered aloud, to no one.

“You tell me.”

You jumped.

Anakin stood in the doorway, arms crossed, cloak rumpled like he hadn’t been to his quarters yet. His eyes—sharp, sky blue, always too intense—were unreadable in the low light. You swallowed hard, guilt blooming like a bruise in your chest. You knew he’d find you eventually.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’ve been looking for you.”

You shrugged, playing oblivious. “I needed air.”

If he sensed through the Force that you were lying somehow, he didn’t give any indication. He merely pushed off where he leaned and promptly made his way over to you.

You straightened up as he approached, trying to appear more awake, more alert. You wanted to look alive, though you certainly didn’t feel like it. You knew your dull, sleep deprived eyes revealed as much, so you avoided any eye contact the best you could.

Anakin took a seat at the table. Not directly next to you, but close enough to spark a nervous warmth in your blood. An effect he often had on you. Though, you subconsciously appreciated that heat now. You were always so cold these days…

“What did you need?”

“I have some… concerns,” he said, voice low.

You resisted the urge to groan. “Concerns?”

You knew what he meant. Of course you did. He didn’t answer immediately. Just studied you—brows furrowed, jaw set.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally asked, “Are you unwell?”

You gave a short, bitter laugh. “Wow. Every girl’s favorite compliment.”

Anakin didn’t smile.

“I’m serious.”

The attempt at humor evaporated from your face. Your fingers curled tighter against your ribs. Your vision wavered—edges fuzzing like your body was deciding it had had enough—but you blinked through it, trained in the art of denial.

“I’m fine,” you said. You weren’t.

“What do you mean?” You knew exactly what he meant.

The weak smile you wore faded as quick as it appeared. Your vision was beginning to darken around the edges again, and you ignored it. Just like before, and the time before that.

You started to shake your head no when he grabbed your flesh hand with his metal one. Your heart jumped, but you didn’t flinch with Anakin. Never with Anakin.

“You were awful during training today.” You lightly scoffed and moved to pull away your arm, but his steel grip held firm. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

You finally gathered the courage to look up and meet his gaze. He stared very intently at your face. Observing, scanning every detail. It made you want to squirm.

He wasn’t going to let this go easily. You knew him. Better than you knew yourself to be honest. Once Anakin was onto something, he was impossible to derail. Your mouth moved before your mind could catch up.

“I’m— I’m on my period,” you stammered, cheeks heating with the effort of the lie. “That’s all.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh,” Anakin said, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He blinked, clearly not expecting that answer, and for once, it seemed to actually knock the wind out of his focus. His grip loosened on your wrist, just enough that you could have pulled away if you wanted to. You didn’t.

He glanced aside, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. You didn’t think you’d ever seen Anakin Skywalker look… awkward.

“Right. Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck with his metal hand. “I didn’t mean to— I just…”

You watched him flounder for a moment, and in spite of the nausea twisting in your stomach, it almost made you want to laugh.

He was flustered.

“I just noticed you’ve been… off,” he said eventually, softer now, eyes not quite meeting yours. “Didn’t mean to overstep.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t. Really.” Your voice was steadier than before, and you leaned into the moment, relieved he wasn’t pressing further. “Training just hit a little harder today, that’s all.”

He gave a small nod, still clearly uncomfortable with the whole topic. “You, uh… want me to bring you something? From the mess?”

You hesitated. The thought of food—warm, filling, real—made your stomach twist. But the last thing you wanted was for him to start hovering again.

“No, I’m okay. Just needed a minute.”

“Okay,” he echoed, and this time when he looked at you, his eyes had softened. “But if you start throwing training sabers at people tomorrow, I’ll assume that’s the hormones talking.”

You rolled your eyes. “So funny.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips, and for a moment, things felt lighter again. Not fixed, and maybe not safe. But less fragile.

He stood, cloak swaying with the motion, and looked like he was debating saying more. But he didn’t. Just nodded toward the caf. “That’s probably cold by now.”

“I wasn’t really planning to drink it.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He lingered there a second longer, then turned toward the doorway. “Get some rest, okay?”

You nodded once. “You too.”

He hesitated—one foot out the door—then glanced back at you over his shoulder. “And hey… if you ever need anything,” he said, the faintest edge of sincerity in his voice, “I mean it.”

“I know.”

He didn’t smile. But he looked like he might’ve wanted to.

Then he left.

And you were alone again, the silence folding back in around you like a blanket. You stared down at the cooling cup of caf, the bitter smell turning your stomach.

You pushed it aside.

Training you had never been boring.

Even when you were exhausted or sarcastic or pretending not to be nervous. Especially then.

Today wasn’t any different—at least not at first.

Anakin stood at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, watching you cycle through the sequence again. Your brow furrowed in focus, bottom lip pulled slightly between your teeth as your saber carved the air.

“You’re still stiff through the shoulders,” he called out, teasing. “You trying to impress someone or preparing for battle with a coat rack?”

You snorted—an undignified little sound that made the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

“I am relaxed,” you argued, resetting your stance.

“No, you’re tense.” He stepped forward now, his voice easing into something softer. “You’re fighting your own swing.”

“I’m not fighting—”

“You are,” he said, grinning now as he walked behind you. “You’re gripping like the saber owes you money.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t stop him when he moved in closer. He could feel the slight shift in your breath as he stepped into your space, one hand gently resting on your shoulder blade, the other brushing your elbow.

“Alright,” he said, keeping his tone low and measured. “Just breathe. Let me show you.”

You nodded, silent now.

He moved around you, wrapping his hand over yours on the saber hilt. His chest hovered just behind your shoulder, warm and steady. Carefully, he guided your hands through the motion.

“This is all it needs,” he said. “No brute force. Just follow the curve.”

You didn’t respond—but you didn’t pull away either.

And then, mid-motion, he noticed it. Gently, absentmindedly—he brushed his thumb over your knuckles.

There wasn’t much there to cushion it anymore.

Your hand under his felt… thinner. More fragile. And so cold. The ridge of your knuckles more pronounced than he remembered. His fingers brushed along your wrist, and he could feel the tendons shifting beneath skin that didn’t feel like it used to.

He stilled, only for a breath. It wasn’t something he meant to notice—it just registered.

His eyes dipped down briefly.

Your tunic sleeves had slipped slightly. Your shoulder looked sharper than it should’ve. He saw the hard line of your collarbone beneath the loose fold of your neckline. Had your robes always fit like that?

Anakin blinked, once. Let go slowly.

He stepped back without a word.

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his energy, though you glanced at him briefly—confused, maybe. Hopeful.

“Better,” he said aloud. It was true. Your form had improved. But his mind was somewhere else now.

He rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain. He didn’t want to overthink it. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the lighting was weird. Maybe he was tired.

But he knew what he felt.

“Try again,” he said, more distant now. Still calm. But… cooler.

You obeyed.

You went through the motion, saber slicing cleanly through the air—elbow turned just right, shoulder loose. Technically, you’d nailed it.

“That’s more like it,” he said after a pause. But his voice lacked the usual warmth.

You turned, trying to catch his eye—waiting for the usual faint smirk, the little quirk of praise he gave when you impressed him.

It didn’t come.

“You’re letting me off easy,” you said, half-joking. “Should I be worried?”

Anakin looked at you again—your smile just a little too forced, your posture just a little too still.

He forced a smile of his own. “Call it a reward for finally listening to me.”

“You’ll ruin your reputation if you keep being nice.”

“I’ll risk it.”

You laughed, and it eased something in his chest. Just a little.

Still, as you powered down your saber and grabbed your things, Anakin found himself watching again. Not staring. Just observing.

Your sharp edges, your baggy sleeves, the faint way your frigid fingers curled in when you weren’t thinking about it.

It was probably nothing.

Probably.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked as you headed toward the exit.

“Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Get some rest, alright?”

You raised a brow. “You too, Master Skywalker.”

He rolled his eyes at the title, but didn’t push further.

Once you were gone, he stayed there on the mat a moment longer, running a hand through his hair.

Something didn’t feel right. But not in the way he could name.

Not yet.

Wake up early. Earlier than anyone else. Run until your lungs burned and your legs went shaky. Meditate until the noise in your head thinned to static. Tea. Maybe fruit, if you’d earned it. Then classes. Then drills. Then solo saber forms when no one was looking. You pushed harder. Always harder.

You wanted to be smaller.

Not just in frame. In presence. In weight. In need.

You were already quiet. Already careful. But your body still existed—still betrayed you. Still demanded things like rest, food, help. You hated that. You hated being tethered to something so messy.

So you carved it down.

Bit by bit. Breath by breath.

You knew the numbers. Not just in the metrics of weight or calories, but in the feel of your clothes, the sharpness of your joints. The way your knees pressed together more easily. The way your hands looked more like bones when wrapped around your saber hilt.

Some days, the emptiness felt almost holy—like a secret power curled up just beneath your ribs. It made your thoughts clearer. Your movements lighter. Your focus tighter. It was hunger, yes, but it also felt like strength.

Other days, it knocked the air out of you. Your fingers would go numb, your heart would race for no reason, your knees would buckle too easily when you stood too fast. That was fine. That was manageable. It meant it was working.

Because if you didn’t control this—if you didn’t control something—what did you even have left?

You couldn’t stop the war. You couldn’t change the Council’s decisions. You couldn’t stop the nightmares or the pressure or the fact that no one ever really saw you unless you were bleeding for it.

But this?

This you could control.

And you would.

Anakin didn’t usually patrol the Temple halls this late. But ever since that last training session—since the feel of your bones under his hand, the way you looked jagged and sharper all around—something in him had changed.

He didn’t look for you, not deliberately. At least, that’s what he told himself. But still, every night, he wandered past the lower sparring rooms or the track facility. Just in case.

You were always there.

Tonight was no different.

You were running again. Not a casual jog. Not a warm-up. This was the kind of running meant to burn something away. Something internal.

Your expression never shifted. Eyes locked ahead, jaw tight, arms pumping in precise rhythm. You looked like you were at war with your own body—and determined to win.

Anakin watched from the doorway. Unseen. Not yet intervening.

He wasn’t sure when this had started, exactly. He just knew it had progressed fast. You used to complain when warm-ups lasted more than fifteen minutes. Now he’d seen you run past exhaustion, run until you limped.

And you were thinner. Not just leaner. Not just “training-season” focused. Hollow. Your features had sharpened. Your robes hung off your shoulders. You folded into yourself when you weren’t thinking. He’d seen your hands tremble when you reached for your lightsaber earlier that day.

And when you missed a step on the stairs yesterday—just a little stumble, nothing dramatic—it had hit him with terrifying clarity.

This wasn’t overwork. This wasn’t coincidence. You were hurting.

And no one else seemed to see it.

“Hey, has she been eating with the others lately?” Anakin asked casually, leaning over a stack of flight reports.

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow at him, a little smirk tugging at her mouth. “You’ve been asking about her a lot.”

He didn’t bite.

“I just want to make sure my padawans are taking care of themselves.”

“She’s not your padawan.”

“I didn’t say she was.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “I mean, I see her with tea. Maybe fruit. But no full meals, not with the group. If she’s eating at all, it’s in secret.”

That sat wrong in his stomach.

“She’s… quiet lately, too,” Ahsoka added. “And tired.”

Anakin nodded once and didn’t say anything else.

The refresher lights were too bright.

You leaned against the cold sink, breathing slowly. Not from nausea. That had passed. This was the part after—when your body was trying to settle, and your mind wouldn’t.

You hadn’t meant to do it again.

You’d promised yourself—not this week. Not again.

But the portion was too big. And the food sat heavy. And your skin itched with shame just from swallowing it.

So you excused yourself. Casually. Like nothing was wrong. Like it was a normal thing to disappear into the ‘fresher after dinner and run the water so no one would hear.

Now, your throat burned. Your hands trembled faintly where they gripped the edge of the basin. You stared at yourself in the mirror and tried not to look.

Your eyes were bloodshot. Not terribly. Just enough. Your cheeks flushed. Hairline damp with sweat.

You look fine.

You didn’t believe it.

You looked like someone else. Like a stranger you were slowly chiseling down.

You rinsed your mouth, brushed your teeth with slow, robotic movements. Checked your reflection again. Tied your tunic tighter around your waist like it might hide the evidence of… something.

Then you pressed a hand to your stomach—flat, empty now—and exhaled.

There. Better.

You could breathe again.

Anakin started showing up more often.

Not in a suspicious way—at least, not at first. He just happened to appear wherever you were. Late in the training halls. In the Temple cafeteria. On quiet patrols that used to be yours alone.

You pretended not to notice.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked casually, dropping his tray next to yours one afternoon.

You mindless nodded and blinked down at your own tray. A mug of tea. A slice of melon, untouched. A handful of dry crackers that you’d only moved around for appearance.

Anakin’s tray, by contrast, was full—nothing extravagant, just actual food. He didn’t comment on your plate. Didn’t say a word about it.

He just sat. Ate. Talked about nothing and everything—Council business, bad dreams, some snide comment Obi-Wan made that he still hadn’t forgiven.

It became a pattern.

Sometimes he’d ask, “You already ate?”

Sometimes he’d say, “I’m starving—hope you’re hungry.”

Sometimes he’d drop off a muffin next to you without comment and walk away.

You didn’t know how to fight that.

So you didn’t. But you didn’t stop running, either.

You pushed yourself harder. Longer sessions. Extra drills. Midnight laps. The ache in your legs became something you needed—proof of effort, proof you were trying.

You were still in control. Or at least, you thought you were.

Until the control slipped.

It happened at the top of the east stairwell—three steps from the landing. Your vision narrowed, the edges turning soft and grey, and then everything went quiet.

It wasn’t dramatic.

You didn’t cry out. Didn’t collapse like some fragile, broken doll. You just… folded.

When you blinked next, you were on the floor.

And Anakin was kneeling beside you.

His arms were under your shoulders before you could speak. One hand on the back of your head, the other bracing your spine. He said your name—sharp, urgent. Too real.

You pushed at his chest.

“I’m fine—just tripped—”

“You didn’t trip,” he said, voice low, furious. “You passed out. You were gone for at least ten seconds.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, the words hollow even to your own ears.

He didn’t let you go. He carried you.

You didn’t protest again.

You didn’t go to the Healers. You wouldn’t let him.

Instead, he brought you to his quarters. Silent. Careful. Laid you on the couch and vanished into the kitchenette.

When he came back, he handed you something warm. A broth—simple, unassuming. You didn’t ask how he knew.

You held the cup with shaking fingers.

“I can’t keep pretending I don’t see it,” he said eventually, sitting across from you, elbows on his knees.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t accuse you. He didn’t even ask. He just looked at you with eyes too kind to bear.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked.

You didn’t say anything back. How could you?

Even you didn’t know.

After it became clear you had nothing to say, he crossed the space between you, knelt again, and took the broth from your hands—setting it gently on the table. Then, slowly, deliberately, he wrapped his arms around you.

You froze. Then melted.

He didn’t say anything else.

He just held you.

And for once, you let him.

“If she’s eating at all, it’s in secret.”

It echoed in his head as he made his way down the Temple corridor. His steps slower than usual. His thoughts louder.

The next time he saw Ahsoka, he pulled her aside.

“You said she drinks tea in the mornings,” he said. “With what?”

Ahsoka blinked. “I don’t know. Sometimes nothing. Sometimes crackers or a granola thing.”

He nodded slowly.

Ahsoka studied him a moment. “Okay, Master. What are you actually worried about?”

He hesitated. Just long enough for her eyes to narrow.

“She’s been off for a while,” he said finally. “And I don’t think it’s just stress.”

“You think she’s sick?”

“…Maybe. I don’t know.”

Ahsoka folded her arms. “Then ask her.”

“I have. She lies.”

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow again. “And you’re sure it’s food? Not something else?”

He didn’t answer. Because the truth was… he wasn’t sure.

But the weight loss. The loose clothes. The way her steps dragged sometimes. The fact that she barely used her dominant hand in saber drills anymore, like her strength gave out halfway through. The way she disappeared between classes. The paleness. The trembling. The—

He shook his head.

He wasn’t sure.

But he was starting to be.

You left the refresher silently. The hallway was empty. Droids hummed in the distance. Temple life moved on around you, untouched.

But as you turned a corner, a shadow peeled away from the wall.

You froze.

Anakin.

His arms were folded, his cloak hanging loose around his frame. His expression unreadable—but sharp. Watchful.

You couldn’t be sure how long he’d been there. He said nothing.

Just looked at you.

You straightened your posture, blinked fast, pretended. “Master Skywalker,” you greeted flatly, voice controlled. Normal. “Did you need something?”

A pause.

His eyes dropped to your hands, your knuckles reddened from where they’d scraped against your teeth. Then your face. Then back again.

Say something, you thought. Call me out. Ask.

He didn’t.

He just nodded once, quiet. “Heading back to your quarters?”

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Long day.”

Another pause.

Then, softly, “Get some sleep.”

You nodded, pulse pounding in your ears. “You too.”

You walked away before he could say anything else. Behind you, he stayed in the shadows a moment longer.

Watching.

Thinking.

You disappeared around the corner, your footsteps soft against the Temple floor.

Anakin didn’t move. Not for a long moment.

He just stood there, jaw tight, arms folded across his chest like that would hold the discomfort in.

He hadn’t meant to see anything. Hadn’t meant to hear what he thought he just heard. He hadn’t been following you. Not exactly.

He just… happened to be there. Noticed the shift. The rushed exit from the dining hall. The delay in the ‘fresher. Too long. Too quiet.

And when you stepped out, you looked—

Not like yourself.

Your color was off. Eyes too bright, but also dull. Your voice too measured, too carefully normal.

And the Force around you—thin. Stretched. He’d felt it before in others. Sometimes after missions. Sometimes after grief.

But this… this wasn’t that.

This was man-made. Brutal, rigid control. The kind that came from desperation, not discipline.

He exhaled through his nose, the gravity of the reality dragging his heart to the depths of hell. Turning back into the quiet hallway, he didn’t yet go after you.

Because what would he even say.

“Did you throw up?”

“Are you starving yourself?”

“What the hell is going on with you?”

You would lie. Of course you would. Anyone would.

And it wasn’t just a hunch anymore, was it? He thought of your hands again, the way they felt smaller, bonier. The looseness of your robes. The way you drifted around people now instead of moving with them. Half-present.

And the hunger in your eyes, not for food—but for something else. Something colder.

Anakin swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair. This wasn’t something he could fix with advice. Or training. Or a teasing comment to break you out of your head.

This was bad. He needed help.

But he didn’t want to betray you either.

He thought of Ahsoka’s voice—“If she’s eating at all, it’s in secret.”

And the part she hadn’t said: That’s not normal.

That’s not safe.

He looked down the hallway you’d taken, long empty now, and clenched his fists once at his sides.

No. This was it. The final straw.

This wouldn’t go on any longer. Not if he had anything to do with it.

You walked into the room with half your armor still undone, hair damp with sweat, and a headache pounding behind your eyes. You had run late—your own fault—but you hoped Anakin wouldn’t—

“Where the hell have you been?”

You froze mid-step.

He was already standing in the middle of your quarters like he owned the space, arms crossed, face tight with something way too close to fury.

“I was in the training—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was sharp, slicing through the air. “You weren’t on the schedule. I checked.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You’re seriously tracking me now?” you snapped. “That’s a little obsessive, don’t you think?”

“You wanna talk about obsessive?” He scoffed.

The gnawing hunger, the ringing in your head, the exhaustion that seeped into your very bones—it pushed you to a boiling point. Frustration spiked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he breathed, hard. Visibly trying—failing—to keep his anger at bay. “It means I’m sick of watching you lie to me every single day!” His voice cracked, raw and furious. “I’m not blind, okay? You barely eat, you look like you’re about to collapse half the time, and you keep telling me you’re fine. You’re not fine, and I’m done pretending like I don’t see it.”

“You’re being dramatic. There’s nothing—”

“I heard you.”

You froze.

His voice was low. Barely controlled. Dangerous. His glare was so intense it took everything in you not to flinch.

“I heard you,” he motioned with a shaking hand, as if to steady himself. “In—in the refresher. I heard what you… were doing,” he said, swallowing like it physically hurt to admit.

You were caught. Like an animal in a trap. The emptiness scraping at your insides fogged up your brain until all you could do was bite and bark like a wounded dog.

Your jaw clenched. “You have no right—”

“I have every right!” he roared. “Because you won’t talk to me! Because you won’t even look at me when I ask what the hell is going on!”

You turned away. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’m your best friend!” he shouted. “Of course it’s my business!”

“No,” you said, spinning on him. “You don’t get to use that card. Being my best friend doesn’t mean you get to police my life!”

“I’m not policing you—I’m trying to keep you alive!”

The room was spinning now. You didn’t have the energy to fight like this. But that didn’t stop you.

“Maybe I didn’t ask for that!” you snapped. “Maybe I don’t want your help!”

He stared at you like you’d slapped him. And maybe you had—not physically, but something worse. His jaw worked soundlessly for a second before he stepped back.

“You’d rather kill yourself slowly than let anyone care about you. That it?”

“Better than being pitied,” you spat.

He looked like you’d stabbed him. “You think this is pity?”

You laughed. Dry. Empty. “I think you like having a project. A broken little thing you can fix. Makes you feel needed.”

Nononono—everything was coming out wrong. You didn’t know what words you were spewing anymore, but Maker, you just couldn’t stop.

“Screw you,” he hissed. “You think this is about me? You think watching you destroy yourself has been easy? Every time you lie to my face, every time you pretend everything��s fine when you’re literally wasting away—you think I like this?”

“Then leave!” you yelled, voice cracking. “No one’s making you stay!”

“I stay because I care!” he screamed. “Because I love you, and I don’t know how to not care!”

The words hit the silence like a bomb.

You stared at him, breath gone.

He looked horrified the second they were out. Like he hadn’t meant to say it. Or hadn’t meant to say it like that.

“What…?” You broke the silence, voice smaller than you’d ever felt.

All Anakin could do was look at you, chest heaving.

“You’re not eating,” he said quietly—almost defeated. “You run yourself into the ground. You pass out and pretend it didn’t happen. You’ve lost weight and think no one notices. I do. I see you.”

Your chest tightened like a noose.

“And I don’t know what scares me more,” he continued, voice low. “The fact that you’re doing this to yourself… or the fact that you think I wouldn’t care.”

There was a brief pause.

“I didn’t want you to care like this,” you whispered, voice suddenly high and brittle. “Because it’s embarrassing, Anakin. I’m not proud of this. I didn’t want you to look at me and see—this.”

“What?” he asked, stepping forward. “See you struggling? See you human?”

You looked away, jaw trembling.

“You don’t have to be perfect around me,” he said, softer now. “You never had to be. I didn’t sign up to be your friend just when it’s easy.”

You said nothing. Couldn’t. The room swam a little.

He stepped closer. Not touching you. Not pushing. Just there.

“Talk to me,” he said again. “Yell. Scream. Cry. I don’t care. Just don’t shut me out.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. One breath. Two.

And finally, voice breaking: “I don’t know how to stop.”

There it was.

He exhaled, slow and deep, like something in him had finally released.

“Then let me help you figure it out,” he said. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

You didn’t answer. But when he reached out—slowly, gently—and pulled you into a hug, you didn’t pull away either.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Anakin swipe away a stray tear.

“You… love me?” you asked after a short while of just standing there like that, not daring to look up from where your face was pressed into his neck.

His embrace tightened, his flesh hand resting on your head, holding it to him like letting go might break him too.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

And the way his voice cracked—like the words had splintered something deep inside—was what undid you completely.

“Yeah, I do.”

Neither of you moved.

Not at first.

You stayed pressed into him like the breath had been knocked from your lungs—his chest rising and falling against yours, slow and steady, like he was trying to lend you the rhythm of his own body. An anchor.

“I didn’t want you to care like this,” you said again, quietly this time. Not sharp. Not defensive. Just real.

“I know,” Anakin murmured. His hand was still on the back of your head, fingers brushing the curve of your skull. “But I do. I care this much whether you want me to or not.”

You let out a slow breath against his collarbone. It felt like the first real one in days. Maybe weeks.

“It’s hard,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I don’t eat because I feel like I don’t deserve to,” you admitted, eyes unfocused, staring at nothing. “And then I do eat, and I feel disgusting. Like I failed at something I can’t even name.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just listened. That was new. You weren’t used to people hearing the words and not rushing to patch them up, to fix, to lecture. But not Anakin.

“You didn’t fail anything,” he said eventually, his voice low, even. “You’ve been surviving. That’s not failure.”

You blinked, and for some reason, that nearly made you cry all over again.

“It’s just always there,” you said, barely getting the words out. “The noise. The shame. I hate it. I hate me.”

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, his hand shifting to your jaw. “Don’t you dare say that.”

“I’m not trying to be dramatic—”

“You’re not,” he said. “But you don’t get to hate yourself in front of me. I won’t allow it.”

A broken little sound caught in your throat. You looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since you walked in. And what you saw wasn’t pity. It wasn’t anger anymore, either.

It was love. It was love.

He meant it.

He meant all of it.

You shook your head, more from disbelief than disagreement. “You’re not supposed to love me when I’m like this.”

“I think I’ve only ever loved you like this,” he said, voice soft but sure. “Not in spite of the pain. But because I know it. I know you. And I still love you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was full—but not crushing. Like something sacred was taking shape between you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Anakin leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “Me too.”

You closed your eyes.

And somehow, that didn’t feel like the end of the world. Somehow, you weren’t alone in it anymore.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he said again. “You don’t have to be fixed. You just have to stay.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic. Holding him there. Holding yourself there.

“I can try,” you whispered.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

And when he kissed your temple, so gently you barely felt it, you realized something else.

You were tired. Yes.

Still scared. Yes.

Still hurt in places no one could see.

But maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to keep carrying it alone.

Not anymore.

And when he held you like that, with no demand, no pressure, just presence, you finally let yourself believe it.

You finally let yourself rest.

a/n: very self indulgent, very rushed pls forgive me 🙏🏽

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x you #star wars #star wars fic #star wars clone wars #sw tcw #sw tcw fanfic #anakin skywalker

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clonetrooperjournals · 25 days ago

Note

Hello!! I had an idea for a 501st x force sensitive reader (maybe a bad batch cameo pls?), where she can see force ghosts of passed clones and she wants to try and find a good way of telling Rex and the others boys that their brothers are ok and happy. Maybe she gets headaches because ghost fives is talking her ear off while she’s trying to listen to the briefing.

Hope you had a good weekend!! Love your work!xx

Summary : You have a secret... You can see dead people. What happens when Captain Rex finds out? Pairings : Captain Rex x Fem!reader (Mechanic reader) x Fives? Warnings : ansgt, talks of death, talks of ghosts, talks of fives death and the beginnings of order 66, fluffy, cute ending, Rex is adorably awkward Words : 3.8k A/N : Okay I am in LOVE with this request! I had so much fun with this and I went a little crazy but I really hope you love it! It's absolutely one of my favourite stories I've done so far! And the Yoda cameo? we love to see our favourite little green Jedi! All ghosts talk in italics masterlist here

Be quiet

Be quiet!

Your head was pounding as you and your astromech R0-80 (or ROBO) were currently welding new paneling to a shuttle that is scheduled to leave in the morning. All around you whispers and cries that only you could hear were bouncing off your skull, giving you a wicked headache. Normally you could just ignore it and push through, you have your whole life but, on days like today when the talking is so loud you can’t think straight.

Please! I know you can hear me!

“Robo can you do the bottom of the shuttle while I weld the top?”

He chirps happily and rolls off under the ship to continue welding. Slowly and shakily, you climb up to the roof of the shuttle and start welding again.

I need to complete my mission!

Just ignore it. Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

You take a deep breath and continue your welds, slowly with slightly shaky hands but still straight. You finish your panel and move onto the next one, slowly crawling over to the next spot and it is only then that a voice yells out to you.

Please listen to me!

The shout makes you jump and lose your footing, and you go flailing backwards and fall off the top of the ship hitting the hangar floor with a hard thud! You lie there for a moment stunned, the voices quieter than normal, your vision slightly dizzy, when you hear heavy footsteps approach you.

“You alright ma’am?”

A gloved hand waves in front of your eyes making you jump. You look up to a blonde head and the most beautiful pair of brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Once the dizziness settles for a moment you realize that Captain Rex is standing over you looking concerned. You can hear quiet chuckles in the distance whether those are from other soldiers or from the voices you're not sure.

Your cheeks go bright red as you slowly sit up instantly regretting it as your head pounds behind your eyes, “I’m ok- Ouch!”

“Don’t move I’ll call Kix to come look at ya.” he says already comming the medic before you can protest, “Kix, we need you in the hangar and bring your kit!”

You look down closing your eyes to ease the aching of your head and to ignore the gaze of the beautiful captain above you, “Really captain I’m alright. No need to waste resources...”

“There’s no such thing as wasted resources when someone's in need.” he says gently patting your shoulder with a small smile.

You’ve watched Captain Rex and his men of the 501 since your first day. Like all the soldiers they gave a strong presence wherever they go and even though they are a bit radical like their general and commander you always admired them. They are really sweet and goofy and have even come over to talk to you sometimes while you were working asking you random questions, you think it was pre mission jitters that made them come over to you because there really isn’t any other reason to come talk to you but you appreciate it nonetheless.

Looks like captain is flirting. Didn’t know he knew how.

“He’s not flirting shut up!” you hiss.

Rex looks down at you with red ears, “What was that?”

You look up at him your cheeks burning bright, “Umm nothing!”

Rapid footsteps approach the two of you and you both turn to see Kix, “I’m here captain! Where’s my patient?”

“Our mechanic here took a fall from the top of the shuttle. I think she hit her head pretty good.” he explains while Kix opens his med kit and grabs a scanner. You sigh as he goes over your whole body, feeling the embarrassment of lying on the hangar floor being checked for injuries while groups of soldiers walk by and stare as they get prepped to leave on their next mission.

Kix looks down at you with a smile, “Good news is there’s no concussion. Just a visible bump on the head for the time being. A bacta patch and you’ll be good to go.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help.” you say gently with a smile.

Kix applies the patch to your head making you wince, “Just doing my job. Now you be more careful up there. Don't wanna bruise that pretty face of yours.”

And now Kix is flirting... I shouldn’t be surprised all the boys are fawning over you. You are beautiful. Maybe I should shoot my shot too eh cyare?

“Kriffin hell please stop talking!” you say exasperated only to realize you said that out loud and both clones look at you with sheepish, confused expressions. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean that I... wasn’t talking to you...”

Rex and Kix both look at you confused, “Who were you talking too?”

“U-Uh... myself.”

Kix grabs his scanner from his bag again with a concerned look, “I’m gonna scan you again just to be safe...”

What the three of you didn’t know is that Master Yoda had made an unexpected trip down from the temple to the hangar when he felt something odd in the force. He stood from a far watching you as various fallen clones try to get your attention. The only way they would be this persistent is if they knew you could hear them, or see them...

As Kix stands over you with the scanner and Rex beside him you hear a faint tapping sound getting closer and the three of you turn to see Master Yoda coming toward you.

“General!”

Master Yoda nods at them as he stares directly at you with a curious smile, “come with me young one. Much to discuss we do!”

...

You remember the first time you seen a ghost, you were five years old. Your parents had been telling you a story about your grandma who had passed away many years ago, reminiscing on the time they had with her with fond smiles. You had never met her, but you had seen a holophoto of her taken a few days before her passing. As they told stories from the memories they had of her an old woman faded into view behind your mother. She had the same bright blue eyes that your mom had, and her hair was long and grey, braided in two braids just as your grandma always wore.

She smiled at you with a brightly, and you tilted your head curious, “What’s your name?”

Your parents looked at you startled wondering who you were talking to when they see you were talking to the empty wall behind your mother.

My name is Mary-Ann.

“Mary-Ann is a pretty name. My grandma has that name!” you say happily. Your parents look between you and the empty wall in horror not understanding what is happening in that moment. The old woman walks across the room slowly with her cane and stops in front of you.

You my granddaughter have a gift. Something special that not a lot of people have.

“I have a gift? You mean like superpowers?”

She chuckles warmly. Yes, you have been given the sight to see those who became one with the force once more.

“What’s the force?” you ask.

It's what connects all living things and if you have a special power like yours, it can connect you to things that are no longer living as well.

“So... I can see ghosts?”

Yes, that right. Though many of us do not have the strength to appear before you. You will hear most of us without ever seeing us.

“So, I can’t see the ghosts but... I can hear them?”

As you grow, so will your gift. It will be hard, and you will suffer, but my dear the force chose you for a reason. Never forget that. Take care and may the force be with you...

She fades away slowly, and it is just you and your parents again. You look at your parents and their shocked expressions as tears fall from your eyes, “can you tell me more stories about grandma?”

After that encounter you started to hear people, whispers and quiet conversations of people who weren’t there. You very rarely seen a ghost, but you did on occasion. You came to learn that the more you knew about someone, if you had pictures or memories or stories that connected you to them in some way you had a higher chance of seeing them if they chose to appear before you.

You thought it was really cool at first, you had a super power that nobody else had, not even the Jedi, but as time went on and you would constantly hear voices talking in your ear, or cries of those who suffered before they died it changed you. You constantly got headaches, you mumbled and whispered to yourself as a way to ease the voices to thinking you were talking to them. You had no friends because everyone labeled you the weird kid, the one parents told their kids not to play with because something wasn’t right with you. Your parents tried there hardest, they took you to doctors, specialists and shamans, but nothing helped and nothing worked.

You continued to grow up isolated and alone with only the voices and ghosts of the past to comfort you over a gift you never asked for. You started to ignore the voices, ignore the ghosts and instead do everything in your power to drown out the noise. You took up mechanics, constantly tinkering and building, taking things apart and putting them back together. The loud noise of the tools, the memorizing of manuals, the comfort you felt in being able to fix something that's been broken like you wish someone could do for you, it became your life. You excelled in mechanics and when the war started you decided that you could use your skills for good and joined the GAR. It was also because the Jedi were the only people you haven't tried to talk to about your gift, and you figured if they couldn’t help you then nobody could.

You sat on a mat in front of Master Yoda as you told him all this his eyes never leaving yours. Somewhere during your explanation, you started crying and you felt as crazy as you probably looked to the old Jedi. He smiled at you, “Yes. A gift you have... From the force indeed it is...”

You sigh wiping the tears from your eyes, “but why me? I can’t do anything a Jedi can. I can’t lift things or jump high or fight with a saber. All I can do is hear people I don’t want to hear!”

“A mystery this is... Research we must do... Louder the voices have become, yes?” he asks you.

You nod, “Yes. I think... the fallen soldiers are talking to me.”

“Yes... Sense them around you I do.” he says as he sits in front of you now grabbing your hands, “Know you can hear them, they do...”

Master Yoda waves a hand around your head and your headache eases, the voices that were trying to get your attention now a whisper. “What did you do?”

“Trick of the mind. To quiet the voices. Still there they are but... less.” he explains simply and gets up again, “tell no one of this you must. Call for you when I know more, I will.”

You nod gratefully toward him, “Thank you, Master Yoda!”

...

The next day you sat in the mess hall at a table in the far corner away from everyone. Rex walks in with Jesse and sees you out of the corner of his eye and smiles slightly at you. You sat cross legged on your chair, your sandwich shoved in your mouth while you were tinkering with a bunch of small parts that looked like junk, but he could tell it wasn’t junk to you. Your hair was pulled up into a high tail that swung every time you turned your head, and your eyes kept scanning around you like you were looking for something. Rex grabs his lunch and against his better judgement walks over to your table.

“Hey uh... Mind if I sit here?” he asks with a hesitant smile.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you rip your sandwich out of your mouth, “S-Sure!”

He sits down and looks over at your bandage, “How's your head?”

“Hmm? Oh! It’s okay, I’m okay!” you say smiling, your cheeks burning. You look down at the parts you were tinkering with to avoid his gaze.

“What are you working on?” he asks trying to carry on the conversation.

You look up your gaze flickering between the parts in your hand and the warm brown eyes of the captain, “Umm... it will be a solar energy powered stun grenade...”

He looks startled, “You're building a stun grenade in the mess hall... for fun?”

“It’s solar powered. Which means it won’t go off and hurt anyone unless its charged with sunlight. And I... like to build things... keeps my hands and my mind busy.” you shrug as you continue to pull parts and jigsaw them into a sphere.

Oh Cap’s got it bad! He’s getting embarrassed look at his ears!

You casually glance up and see his ears turning red as he stirs his soup and you smile at him warmly, “You know Captain, this is the first time someone's sat with me at lunch.”

“R-Really?” he asks stunned.

You nod again, “Yeah, I’m... a little weird. Most people don’t enjoy my company...”

“Well, I enjoy your company.” he states matter of fact making you both blush and look down.

We all knew the captain was awkward but this is just painful...

You sigh at the soldier's voice and put the final pieces of the grenade together completing it. You smile at your little contraption and when you look at Rex, he’s watching you with a gentle smile, “You’re not weird you know. I think your pretty interesting.”

“Just wait. You keep hanging around me you’ll see...”

He chuckles, “Can’t wait.”

Captain you sly dog you!

Jesse comes over to your table and puts his tray down beside Rex eyeing you and him with a grin, “Hope you don’t mind captain but the other tables full and I would rather sit at a table with a beautiful view.”

Kriffin hell! The di’kut stole my line!

You chuckle at him as Rex looks at him exasperated, “who taught you that line? It's terrible.”

“Fives obviously. Who else?” he says with a sad smile that Rex returns.

“Whose Fives?” you ask curiously already thinking you may have the name of the soldier whose been annoying you for the last two months.

They both look to each other and nod, “He was one of the finest arc troopers in the army of the republic. He was also a terrible flirt.”

“And he had the most ridiculous sense of humor!” Jesse laughs.

Rex smiles warmly, “Yeah. He always stood up for us and all our brothers. Losing him hurt more than most...”

“Sounds handsome.” you smirk and the two of them start laughing.

Jesse slaps the table he’s laughing so hard, “We all have the same face ya know!”

“Thanks for the reminder” you wink at Rex, and he blushes hard rubbing the back of his neck.

Maker just ask her out already! It's embarrassing captain. Man up!

You try not to laugh at the nagging fallen soldier, “Why did he choose the name Fives?”

“His number is CT-5555. He even got a five tattooed on the side of his head,” Rex explains thoughtfully as you take a sip of water. It is then that a soldier starts to appear beside Rex, his hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes and you choke spitting your water across the table at Jesse and Rex.

“Oh maker! I-I'm so sorry I- hold on!” you stammer completely flustered as you grab a napkin and lean across the table to wipe Rex’s face.

You can see me! You see me! I know you did!

“It’s alright. I can get it y/n you don’t have to...” he says flustered as Jesse chuckles wiping his own face beside him.

You hand Jesse another napkin, “I am so sorry I promise I didn’t mean to do that I just... kriffin hell! I gotta go!”

You jump up grabbing your stuff and shoving it into your bag as you run off flustered and embarrassed beyond belief, leaving the two soldiers wet and confused. Rex looks beside him to the empty space wondering what you saw that spooked you so bad.

...

You sat on top of Master Yoda’s starfighter giving it routine maintenance to keep your mind busy. You heart hadn’t stopped racing since you left Captain Rex and Jesse in the mess, you really are ridiculous. Why do you even try to make friends? Honestly as if Rex would see you as anything other than a mechanic with a tendency to do the stupidest things. This is why you're better off alone, so you don’t get your hopes up.

Don’t throw a pity party it was a mistake. Honestly it was my fault.

“Of course it was your fault! You’ve been yapping in my ears for the last two months! What do you want?”

Fives sits on the hood of the starfighter looking down. Honestly, I’m not sure. I just... can’t rest until I know my brothers are safe.

You drop your tools in your toolbox, “Fives were literally in the middle of a war! Nobody can promise their safety!”

I know Rex put in a report on what happened when I... died. I know he’s searching for answers. Please tell him to be careful, it’s not his time to join me yet. He needs to finish what I started, for all of us but he has to be careful.

You sigh rubbing your aching head, “That’s an awful lot of responsibility to put on one man.”

Yes, but he can do it. He’s Captain of the 501, if he can put up with us and General Skywalker he sure as hell can do just about anything...

You hop out of the star fighter and sit on the hood beside Fives. You were right he was handsome. His hair was cut short showing his fives tattoo on the side of his head and a cute triangle goatee on his chin, and this lazy smirk that you could tell got him in all kinds of trouble.

“Is there something else?” you ask quietly.

He looks at you startled for a moment and then smiles knowingly. Yes. I want him to be happy. We all have had our fair share of loss but Cap he... has had to deal with so much. He needs a light at the end of the tunnel ya know?

You nod not really understanding where he was going with this.

He's had a crush on you for a long time and I-

You gasp, “He what!? Fives that’s not true...”

I’m not lying. It's pathetic really. He watches you when he thinks no one is looking. He even drunkenly admitted at 79’s one time that he wanted to ask you out but he’s just too busy to commit to anything and he wants to do right by you if he’s gonna ask you.

Your cheeks heat up, “Th-There’s no way. We barely talk. I literally spit water at him today like a lunatic! And that’s not including I'm literally sitting here talking to you beyond the grave right now! I am a mess, he doesn’t want me!”

He smiles at you warmly, y/n... you might just be what each other needs and you both don’t know it...

You sigh, “You said it yourself. Rex has been through so much. The last thing he needs is another person with issues to come into his life and cause more chaos for him to clean up. No matter how much I like him... I will not put him through more grief...”

“You like me?”

You jump as you look down and see Rex standing in front of the ship with bright red cheeks and wide eyes, you turn to Fives and he’s laughing, “You did this on purpose didn’t you? You knew he was there?” Fives just shrugs his shoulders and continues to chuckle. “If you weren’t already dead I would strangle you right now!”

You slide off the ship and stand in front of Rex your cheeks on fire, “How much of that did you hear?”

“I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been here for a while and I think we need to take you back to Kix because-”

“Rex... I have a secret. A gift that I’ve had since I was a kid, it’s... I can hear and sometimes see people who have... died.” you whisper while not looking at him. You can’t bear to see his expression.

“You...? Can see ghosts?” he asks confused.

“Y-Yes I can. And it’s alright if you don’t believe me, it's a lot to process which is why I don't tell people, and I shouldn’t even be telling you right now, but I just want you to know that I’m not crazy! I- well honestly, I might be crazy-”

“y/n”

“And I really don’t want to cause you any more trouble than I already have I-”

“y/n”

“Even if you don’t believe me, I just want to continue being frie-”

He grabs your waist and kisses you, hard. You freeze, all around you, you can hear cheers from thousands of soldiers only you can hear making your ears ring and your head pound, but you could care less in that moment. Fives stands off on the side hollering with a huge smile.

Atta boy Cap!

He pulls away and strokes your cheek, “I believe you y/n. And like I told you earlier today, I think you’re really interesting. I didn’t realize how interesting you were going to be but... I still wanna ask you out if that’s okay with you?”

“Really? After knowing what you know about me?” you ask stunned.

He nods, “The Jedi can do impossible things so who's to say there aren’t other people in our galaxy that can do them too?” he leans forward his head touching yours, “so can I ask you on a date then?”

You smile and you feel his breath on your lips, “I would love to go out with you Rex.”

Finally! I’m dead and even I didn’t know if he was gonna go through with it!

You can’t help but laugh, “Shut up Fives!”

dividers by @saradika-graphics

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spooky-daggers · 2 months ago

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Another doodle blob! Featuring Rex & Bats, plus lots of little easter eggs from @k8s--space AO3 story "More Than Empty Servitude". (with a tiny cameo of Kat)

Detail shots below:

#star wars #the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw fanart #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #spooky daggers #my art #bats mtes #mtes #more than empty servitude #ao3 fanfic

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tanobatcher · 3 months ago

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blood stains

hunter x gn reader summary: hunter finds you with an injury you tried to hide from the squad, but you’re struggling to open up despite your feelings for him. warnings: none .. this is a pretty short read a/n: and i am once again reminded why hunter bad batch is my favorite clone to write about 🧟‍♀️

The Marauder is silent other than Wrecker’s thunderous snoring that you’ve learned to tune out whenever the night reaches this dead hour. Right now is the only time there’s no movement flashing back and forth from the cockpit to the gunner’s seat. No orders falling from the many voices you hear more than your own self these days. No bickering, either.

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath as you peel part of your shirt away from your skin. A warm and sticky ache begins to throb harder under your wound, which is now messily clotted from the hours that passed since the mission from today. It’s all just another part of your life, especially with this squad at the center of your commitments. Skin doesn’t take much to break, but you’re a different story. No amount of blood spilled to your feet or streaked across your hands as you try to stitch yourself back together can stop you from turning away. This place—these people—are your family. Some more than others, though.

“You’re bleeding all over my ship.”

His voice cuts through the quiet, raising hairs on the back of your neck. He was just sleeping, too, or at least pretending. You keep your eyes on your stomach, catching the captain’s seat turn toward you in your peripheral. A small smile crosses your lips without meaning to, but this is soon replaced by a sharp wince that both of you hear. The sting goes numb like your words when you reply, “Then I guess you’ll have no problem cleaning up. Since she’s all yours.”

You hear some rustling over his low chuckle as he makes his way toward you, slow enough to tease your quickening heartbeat. It isn’t until he reaches for you with the intention of turning you to face him that you flinch away and say, “Hunter, I’m fine.”

His hand drops to his side, and the collision sounds disappointed despite its normalcy. You finally look up at him, frowning when you see the gaunt shadows framing his face. He refuses sleep like abstinence these days, and it shows. It also hurts, though you can’t bring yourself to admit why.

“You always look at me like that,” he sighs sarcastically while sliding into the seat in front of you.

Suddenly, he’s taking the alcohol from your hands and pulling your body between his spread legs. You stand over him with a hot flush creeping up your neck, bracing yourself for another sting as he cleans the overdramatic gash that looks worse than it feels. Really.

“Maybe I’m just unhappy to see you,” you manage to get out through a pained gasp.

“Uh-huh,” he smiles up at you when your hand finds his shoulder and squeezes, “Almost done.”

“You’re overdoing it.”

“You can handle it.”

Your eyes flutter open just in time for you to see the look on his face as he says this. It’s not exactly like the typical solemnity he carries throughout the day, among all the other responsibilities that weigh heavily on his relentless spirit. But it’s familiarly stern, nothing that you wouldn’t expect from someone like him. Someone as confident, that is. You don’t even notice that he’s begun stitching your wound shut, too busy catching your own breath. The thin needle going in and out of your skin barely registers at this point in the process.

“Still hurts?”

Taking your hand off his shoulder, you reply, “No.”

“Good.”

You flick your gaze between his face and lap before nudging his bouncing knee with yours. He hardly reacts to this, only going completely still as the two of you fall silent. This lack of conversation is nothing new, but it makes you increasingly aware of your own state of being. Unsure what to do with your hands, you fold them over your chest. But that doesn’t feel comfortable—and his rough fingers skimming across your bare skin isn’t helping with any sort of thought process—so you drop your hands back down to your sides.

If he notices your restless decision making, he doesn’t point it out. Maybe he would if it was daytime, and his brothers were listening. Maybe he would if he was in the mood to fall into another unnecessary argument. Or maybe, he’s too far gone in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even realize you’re fighting a war in your mind every day you spend with him. You can’t afford to feel anything more than you already do. Neither can he. And yet…

“You’re lucky this isn’t infected,” he eventually speaks up in a hushed tone so the others don’t wake.

You roll your eyes, and your neck follows this movement in a slow stretch. “Don’t play doctor with me.”

“Don’t wait until now to do something about this,” he retorts. The natural authority in his tone comes crawling back at this demand, one that you ignore to preserve your own pride.

You shrug, surprising yourself with your words that tumble out like the wild waters back on Kamino. “Got your attention, though.”

A smirk tugs at his lips as he glances up at you.

“If that’s what you wanted,” he says, “You could’ve just asked.”

You raise your eyebrows skeptically, unsure if he’s simply pulling your strings. He has more power over you than you prefer to show, but he’s also not an idiot. Hardly anything gets past him, hence the reason why he’s sitting before you with a threaded needle and a death grip on your body. The knot in your stomach seems to unravel as his eyes search yours, so dark and brown that you almost mistake them for the night sky.

“Save it,” you sigh and rub your eyes, “Humor me in the morning.”

“You think I’m joking.”

“I think you’re full of shit.”

The breath he releases sounds like a laugh as he shakes his head and peers at your wound closer, almost done with the stitches. Even while you feel like shit, you can’t stop yourself from biting back at the warmth that keeps trying to invade your priorities.

“Yeah?” He keeps his eyes on your stomach and tilts his head to the side, “I think you’re just scared.”

Your chest seizes uncomfortably. “Where is this coming from?”

The question falls between the cracks of your curiosity since he doesn’t respond, shifting his focus on wrapping your waist with what you believe is the last of your available bandages. You don’t point this out, though, because you know he’ll just add that to his list of the many things he plans on taking care of alone instead of asking for help. How can he of all people expect vulnerability from you? You’ve already accepted this—whatever this even is—will end up as a lost cause. But standing above him as his hands travel near places you shouldn’t dare to think about, especially when he’s looking up at you with stars dancing in his pupils, feels much better than running away.

You snap out of your circling thoughts when Hunter tugs your shirt down and leans back in his seat. His fingers are slightly stained with your blood, outstretched from his palm to avoid making more of a mess. Yours, however, are relatively clean from his favor of taking over the moment. A wordless stare passes between the two of you before you carefully run your hand through his hair, and it’s too soft for you to regret this move. It’s also a little heavy—wilder than usual without the bandana keeping it under control. He closes his eyes at your touch. Leans in just a bit. You step forward with your other hand cupping the side of his face, tilting upward by the jaw so he can look at you. But he doesn’t. He almost seems at peace for once.

You don’t want to ruin that. Just like you don’t want to ruin anything—with him, but also between the rest of this squad. Sliding your hand from out of his hair, you startle when he catches it with his own and tangles your fingers together. No snide remark or irritated comment comes to mind from either of you. Your thoughts are especially blank as he peers up at you, daring you to pull away. When you don’t, he brings your hand to his lips for a brief second that leaves you dizzy and breathless. It doesn’t feel like a kiss when it reads so much like a sentence you’ll never say to each other.

“You’re welcome,” he quips softly before letting your arms fall back to your sides. And then he’s standing so abruptly that you fail to answer, even though his movements appear calm and collected as always. Your head turns to follow his steps, looking straight into his backside with an impatient desperation telling you to reach for him again.

“Good night,” you only offer weakly in return, rubbing your fingers together to feel the blood from his touch. Your blood.

The darkness hides his smile when he glances at you over his shoulder. You can only see the silhouette of his figure, from the plane of his shoulders to the curve of his nose. And then there’s that gleam in his eye—the one you recognize as trouble. So much trouble.

“Good night.”

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meshla-cyarika · 7 months ago

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Can I be honest for a second and say that one of my biggest fanfiction pet peeves is when someone will write their character or the reader insert as someone who should in theory be really badass (for example a Jedi or a Mandalorian, or an Avenger, or a soldier/fighter in general) and then make them really weak and basically not be able to handle themselves at all? Like come on realistically these mfs should be able to kill someone. Maybe this is just me being a girl who isn't girly, but I just want a character like this who can actually defend themselves and doesn't cry and need to be picked up by their s/o all the time.

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k8s--space · 2 months ago

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For those of you who are interested in seeing the full version of this banner art from the recent Rex x Reader spicy chapter...

Full image below:

It's not the exact same scene from the chapter, but I don't think anyone minds ✨ AO3 Link - 'More Than Empty Servitude'

Art by the incredible @lornaka 🧡

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dustmusings · 4 months ago

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on your side / wolffe x fem!jedi!reader

for @ireadwithmyears <3

summary: having to distance yourself from wolffe after a slip up is a lot harder than you thought it would be

tags/warnings: 18+ for suggestive stuff, angst! with a happy(ish?) ending, forbidden relationship, love confessions, kinda idiots in love, wolffe is down bad and not sorry about it, reader is lowkey delirious and v emotional bc of lack of sleep, allusions to sex but otherwise sfw

song: on your side — the last dinner party

prompts: #21 "when's the last time you actually slept?", #9 "come lie with me, let me hold you."

a/n: okay it's official, wolffe is my fav clone to write for. um, idk if anyone else has ever been so exhausted but not able to fall asleep to the point where you’re literally distraught? I hope this is not a unique experience otherwise this fic makes no sense lol

event masterlist / star wars masterlist / join my taglist / wc: 3.1k

requests are closed, dialogue prompt is in bold :)

You messed up. Big time.

The memory of your misdeeds still replayed in your mind, days, weeks later. Your mind lingered on how his rough hands felt against your skin, how his breath mingled with yours, bodies melding together. His words haunted you, adulations whispered in a tone you’d never heard, sentiments you wouldn’t soon forget, no matter how you tried to.

Wolffe had invaded your brain even before you'd fallen into bed with him, but now it was inescapable.

You'd known it was a mistake as it was happening, that stepping over the line would do something irreversible, something you couldn't follow up on. The guilt of doing that to Wolffe, of letting him believe it was something that could be, was eating you alive. If you didn't feel so strongly for him then all of this would be so much easier, and could be written off as a simple blunder — but nothing about this was simple.

Wolffe had been shipped into an active warzone only hours later, and though worry pulled at your heart more than ever, you couldn't help but be partly relieved. When he’d returned, you felt even more conflicted.

He had caught your eyes from across the hangar, something distinctly timid and unlike him in the way he looked at you, and you had to tear your gaze away and leave the space. You couldn’t be anywhere near him. It hurt too much. You knew he’d noticed that you were avoiding him, it would be impossible given how close you were before everything had transpired, but he obviously had the restraint not to mention it.

Sleep was eluding you because of it. Pulling away from Wolffe felt like a physical pain, like the connection you had unwittingly created through the force was being sawed at, and you could feel every ridge of the knife as it cut. If anything, it was proof that you had become too close, that your connection ran too deep.

Now, duty demanded you be in the same room as him, and it was every bit as excruciating as you had expected. You were stood beside him in the command centre, and while your eyes were plastered to Plo Koon, all of your attention was taken by Wolffe.

You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you as you spoke, almost feel his breath against your cheek, the warmth of his body beside you. His presence was intoxicating, and even when you closed your eyes you weren’t free of it. His unique presence in the force reached out for you, and while you knew he wasn’t doing it intentionally, you wished he would stop. The familiar feeling made it so much harder not to fall into his arms and forget everything that held you back; a warm blanket, a comforting steadiness, deep red in colour, like the very last sight of the sun against the horizon.

You escaped as soon as you could, scampering from the command room at the first opportunity, but it seemed that Wolffe was done with the silent treatment. He grabbed your arm as you made it out into the corridor, dragging you into a quieter corner of the ship, a hall that ran to a dead end. His gaze was serious when you finally met it with your own, and it turned your stomach. You didn’t know if he was angry or hurt, nothing was given away in his demeanour.

Finally he spoke in a low voice, “are you alright?”

You blinked up at him, wondering how he could be so concerned by you at this moment. His hand still gripped your arm gently, his eyes darting between yours, brows furrowed. He took in your features like he’d never seen you before, and the scrutiny made your gaze drop.

“I’m fine” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even.

“You weren’t in your room last night”

Your eyes raised back to him as your heart skipped a beat, “how do you know that?”

“I went to see you” he confessed, never wavering in his serious gaze.

“Wolffe…” you sighed, looking up at him with a pained expression, “you shouldn’t have done that”

He huffed, stepping into your space, “why not?”

You exhaled slowly, “you know why”

Something in him stiffened, and he took his hand away from you, “what were you doing?”

“I just… I couldn’t sleep” you admitted, running a hand over your face.

“Why not?”

You sighed at his persistence, “it doesn’t matter”

“It matters to me” he muttered, his eyes flashing with hurt. He tentatively brought his hand up to your cheek, running his thumb under your eye. You knew you must look exhausted, and closed your eyes to let the feeling calm you. “When's the last time you actually slept?”

“I don’t know” you spoke quietly, almost ashamedly. Your eyes fluttered open to see the stern look he was giving you.

“Sarad’ika” he whispered the name he called you in only the most quiet of moments, drawing closer so his forehead almost touched yours. “If you won’t…” he sighed, “if you won’t let me take care of you then you need to take care of yourself”

Your heart seized up in your chest. “I—” you didn't know what to say, everything was running through your mind but it was all getting caught in your throat.

Your stuttering was interrupted by the sound footsteps reverberating off of the walls of the otherwise empty hall. Wolffe backed away from you, though he still started at you intently, even as someone walked between the two of you. Unlike him, it snapped you out of it.

“I— I uh… I'm going to my quarters now” you mumbled out, tongue tripping over your words.

You turned quickly, stalking down the hall in wide strides and not daring to look back.

It was the middle of the night and still, sleep wouldn’t take you. The frustration was getting on top of you again, and you paced back and forth in the small space of the ship that was yours. Hot tears sprang to your eyes, wetting your cheeks, and your hands gripped at your hair as if it would alleviate the tension in your head. You had been silently crying long enough that your head had begun to ache, and you silently begged to gods you didn’t believe in to let you sleep, to shut your mind of for just a few minutes so you might finally slip into unconsciousness.

It had been coming to this every night, where you felt as if you were being driven insane because sleep eluded you.

With a small sob, you darted for the door. A distraction, that’s what you needed now. You might wander the halls of the ship as you had in previous nights, or hole up in a cupboard somewhere so you could cry until all your tears were spent. You grabbed your robe as you went, clutching the thick material in a tight fist, but as the door zipped open you almost collided with something, someone.

Wolffe stood tall in the doorway, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. He took in your distressed state, eyes widening at the recognition of tears staining your face, and he reached out to you on instinct, taking ahold of your arms.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay” he immediately began to soothe you in a voice that was too soft for him. It only made your breathing more unstable, and you choked on your sobs. Wolffe backed you into the dark room and closed the door behind him, “what’s going on?”

The confusion — the worry — it was so plain in his eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach. You dropped your robe to the floor.

“I just—“ your words were halted by your own sob, and you hid your face in your palms, “I’m so tired, Wolffe”

His hands wrapped around your wrists, his skin warm against yours, and he peeled your hands away from your face. He snaked his arms around your waist without another word, offering the relief you would never ask for but so desperately needed. You took it unashamedly, burying your face in his chest, letting yourself relish in the comfort of his touch. As your weeping continued, he held you tightly, one hand on the back of your head to stroke your hair as he whispered comforting words.

The exhaustion had clearly got to you. There was simply no other reason for this display of raw emotion.

As your breathing calmed, the storm in your mind subsiding to a grey fog, Wolffe’s grip loosened. He pulled back and took your face in his hand, and you couldn’t help but lean into its warmth just a little.

“Now,” he spoke quietly, “are you going to tell me why you can’t sleep?”

You sighed deeply as you averted your gaze, “do I have to?”

“No” he replied, “but it could help”

Your eyes creeped across his handsome features, taking in every mark, every freckle. You couldn’t burden him with everything that clouded your mind, you wouldn’t place another weight upon his shoulders when the war already saw him stretched so thin.

You shook your head, releasing yourself from his grasp and turning away, “it won’t help, it’ll only make things worse”

“Stop shutting me out” Wolffe’s voice was stern as he spoke up, and you looked up to find his brow furrowed deeply, the hurt evident in his eyes and the downturn of his lips.

“I have to” you said quietly, almost a whisper.

“No you don’t” Wolffe huffed, moving to crowd you against the table behind you, “I don’t understand why you’ve been acting like this, why you won’t look at me all of a sudden. I thought—”

He stopped himself. In all honesty, you hadn’t been thinking an awful lot about what Wolffe may be thinking about what had transpired, and as much as you knew you should bury the whole incident, move on and forget, a part of you needed to know. What he thought, what he was thinking now, what he felt. You shouldn’t ask, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Thought what?”

You could see that he regretted letting the words slip. “I thought things would be…” he trailed off for a moment, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation, “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be different from this, after—“

His teeth ground together. A quiet curse escaped him as he hung his head in defeat. He knew as well as you that this conversation would only breed more unease. You swallowed, taking a moment to centre yourself.

“We can’t be like that” you muttered.

You knew it was cruel, that he didn’t deserve to hear it put so bluntly, nor did he deserve what had already happened. You had been cruel, consistently, in entertaining this idea of the two of you, and even crueller in making him believe it could be. That was why this was necessary. It couldn’t go on.

He was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, it was uncharacteristically timid, his words almost shy.

“Would it be so bad?” he asked.

“Yes! Well, no it— but we can’t, I mean— I don’t know!” you could feel your breath becoming short again, and Wolffe placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Hey, breathe” he spoke softly.

You didn’t deserve him, that was clear to you now. He was too gentle, too good to you when you didn’t deserve it. Your breath steadied under his touch, and you couldn’t face pushing him off this time.

“This is what’s got you worked up?” he asked, and you nodded in reply. His face softened, and he raised a hand to your cheek. “Ner cyare” he whispered, “please don’t trouble yourself over me”

“I can’t help it Wolffe, I—”

I love you

You could so easily say it, and you would mean it, but putting it out into the world would go beyond crossing the line.

“I’m sorry, that I’ve been pulling away, but I can’t— I can’t do this” you insisted, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, unable to name exactly what it was.

“Why not?”

It was a simple question, but the answer was far more complicated. Wolffe gave you nothing but patience as he waited for the reply. His gaze was soft, as soft as it got with him at least, though any amount of tenderness that could be drawn from the man would be considered a feat. It was part of the reason that you struggled to answer him. It was simply too distracting, witnessing the depth of his feelings for you first hand.

When the two of you had slipped up, spent the night with limbs entangled in the cot just a few short steps from you now, it had somehow not occurred to you that Wolffe was in just as deep as you. He had shown his admiration in more ways than one; whispers against your lips and skin, tender touches and a sense of care in every endeavour. In the throws of pleasure it hadn’t registered as anything but that — seeking pleasure.

Now you weren’t sure.

“Because…” you began, barely uttering the word.

There were reasonings you could use, but none would present themselves as you looked into his eyes and were confronted with the depth of your own feelings.

“Because…?” he prompted, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Because nothing” you frowned, “because I’m a fool, and because you don’t deserve the only kind of relationship I could give you”

Wolffe matched your frown, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it Wolffe, I’m… I’m a Jedi, right? You know what that means?”

He pressed his lips to a hard line, unimpressed at the reminder “I know what it means”

You exhaled shakily, and a sadness washed over you, “I couldn’t… I could only be yours in private, I wouldn’t be able to touch you in front of others, to hold your hand or even smile at you for too long. I wouldn’t be able to show the galaxy how much I love you, and that hurts me”

A second passed, and you realised what had been said.

It was as if an airlock had been opened, and all the air sucked from the room. The both of you stood perfectly still, staring at each other with widened eyes. You had crossed the line. It was all hypothetical up until now. But now, it was real. Neither of you moved, or breathed, until Wolffe let a quick and heavy exhale slip, as if in disbelief.

“Love?”

You swallowed thickly.

“I—“ you bit the inside of your cheek as your cheeks burned hot, “I didn’t mean to… tell you like this”

“Is it true?” he asked, deadly serious. His eyes searched yours, for what you didn’t know, but you knew the answer was already obvious in the way you dropped your gaze guiltily, as if the very act of falling in love were wrong.

“Yes” the whisper had barely left you when Wolffe surged forwards and met your lips with his.

He was warm, inviting, eager. He kissed you like a man starved, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and you let yourself give in. You kissed him back more insistently, and let his tongue pass the seam of your lips as he begged for entrance. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him tightly, as if he was scared you might slip from beneath his fingertips. This feeling was becoming too known to you, too comfortable. It felt too right.

He pulled away, placing his forehead on yours with intention, “I love you, ner sarad’ika”

Your breath was knocked from you upon hearing the words, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth stretched into a tentative grin. You advanced forwards and pressed a more chaste kiss to his lips, and felt him smile back against you. Something about it set your heart fluttering more than anything before. Wolffe still held you, a hand flat against your back to keep you close, where the other held your jaw.

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip as he regarded you, speaking softly, “you have such a pretty smile”

A heat crept up your neck even now, after everything that had happened. Though soon, it began to transform in its meaning. Your smile faded, tears collecting in your waterline once more, and the heat burned at your collar uncomfortably. You didn’t cry as you had before, but the tears fell freely all the same.

Wolffe sighed, wiping them away with a disapproving shake of his head, “I said not to trouble yourself over me”

Your lips twisted with doubt, “you deserve so much more than this, Wolffe”

“It’s not about what I deserve” he reasoned, “it’s what I want”

“But I can’t give you anything”

“I don’t need anything”

You deflated with a huff, “it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be”

“I disagree” he mused, pressing a kiss to each cheek to collect the remnants of your tears, “I love you, and for maker knows why, you love me. I think that is all that’s important”

You pressed your lips together to stop them from shaking as you felt yourself welling up again, but Wolffe was all too quick to swoop in.

“We’ll figure it out” he promised, “together”

Looking up at him through teary eyes, you found your lips twitching upwards, “together”

The word was a comfort. Neither of you would have to navigate the struggle in isolation, you would support each other.

Wolffe nodded against you, and took your hands in his. You only realised now how they were shaking, and he pressed his forehead into yours with more purpose, peering deeply into your eyes as if he were looking upon your very soul.

“Come lie with me, let me hold you”

Your brow pinched, and you nodded your head in reply. He tugged you over to your cot gently and laid you down in the soft sheets, then stripped himself of his armour to lay beside you.

No more words were exchanged that night, for everything had already been said. His body was warm against yours, and though it didn’t magically lull you to sleep immediately, it was an undeniable comfort. Wolffe fell into unconsciousness before you did, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. Watching him rest calmed your mind. It gave you faith that any hardship the two of you faced going forward would be worth it. He was worth it.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @burningnerdchild @orangez3st @clones-cyare @stellarbit @liopleurodean @asgre

#hello clone nation i hath returned #trex’s 200 follower celebration #trex writings #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #clones #star wars clones #clone troopers #clone x reader #wolffe x reader #commander wolffe #tcw wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #clone commander wolffe #dividers by saradika #writing this made me realise maybe I just have insomnia lmao

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vodika-vibes · 4 months ago

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Can I request Captain Rex x reader in a relationship and they call rex a pet name for the first time 👀 (Bonus if it's in front of his brothers) 💕

They Can Be Yours Too

Summary: You know where you stand with Rex, he’s made it very obvious to you that he’ll be with you or he’ll be with no one. You just wish you had thought about how large his family is before you agreed to date him.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 738

Warnings: Reader is a little anxious at the beginning

A/N: I decided to lump these two asks into one little snapshot of a day in the life of Rex and his cyare. I hope you all like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“And you’re sure I look okay?” You ask as you you twist in front of the mirror, your eyes locked on your reflection as you look for anything that doesn’t look perfect. “Maybe I should change into the grey dress?”

“Cyar’ika, you look great.” Rex says from where he’s laying on the bed, not even looking at you, “You looked great in the blue dress, and the green one.”

“You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true?” Rex replies as he sits up to look at you, “Cyare, why are you all bent out of shape? What’s wrong?”

“I just want to look good, that’s all.”

His eyebrows creep up his forehead, “Yeah, I got that. I just don’t understand why. You never care about how you look.”

“That—!”

“You literally wore paint covered jeans on our first date.” He interrupts.

“...that’s true—”

“So, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“—What if they think I’m not good enough for you?” You ask, your voice small, and you cringe when Rex sighs, “o-or! What if I say something embarrassing and you never ever want to talk to me again!”

“That’s a little unrealistic,” Rex says as he stands and walks over to you, “But, since you seem genuinely concerned about this. If they think you’re not good enough for me, then I’ll simply have to beat the shit out of them.”

“That’s...a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“Nope.” His hands settle on your hips and he lightly tugs you away from the mirror, “And, honestly, it’s much more likely that my brothers are going to tell you embarrassing stories about my cadet years.”

“I bet you were adorable,” You reply as you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck.

Rex grins at you, “Oh, I was the cutest.” He leans in and presses his forehead against yours, “Finally, I can’t even go 24 hours without hearing your voice, so I would never stop talking to you. Ever.”

You close your eyes as you lean into him, drawing comfort from his warmth and his solid presence. “—okay, but—”

“No. No buts. You’re perfect. I’m a hot mess. If anything, they’re going to tell you that you can do better.” He kisses you quickly, and then presses a second, lingering, kiss against your lips. “Now, are you ready to go?”

“...Are you sure I shouldn’t change into the grey—?”

“Sweetheart! You’re killing me.” He squeezes your hips, “You look amazing, as always. I swear.”

Finally a tiny smile lifts your lips, “Alright, Rex. You convinced me.”

Half an hour later, Rex is guiding you through 79s to a large table near the back that’s surrounded by men in different colored armor. You see 212 orange, Coruscant Guard red, and the grey of the 104th.

“There you are, Rex.” Cody says as Rex pulls a chair out for you and allows you to sit at the table, “Was beginning to think you were going to run away and not introduce us to your girl.”

“Ha ha.” Rex rolls his eyes, “This is her,” He introduces you, and then glares at his brothers, “Be nice.”

“Wow, rude.” Fox drawls, before he grins at you, “Just know, this is the man you’re dating. A rude jackass.”

“He’s never been rude to me,” You reply with a tiny smile.

“And I wouldn’t be rude if you idiots were less idiotic.” Rex snarks, before he drops a kiss to the top of your head, “You want a drink, cyare?”

“Just a soda, please, babe?”

“Done.” He kisses your cheek, and then shoots a warning look at his brothers, and heads towards the bars.

“So, you and Rex have been dating for a while then?” Cody asks, a grin crossing his face, “Seeing as you call him babe.”

“Oh, well...a couple of months, now. He’s never said that it bothered him—”

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Wolffe replies as he leans back in his seat, “I can’t believe it took him months to introduce you to us.”

“Well, we do know all of his embarrassing stories,” Fox says lazily, “Speaking of embarrassing stories—”

You tilt your head to the side curiously.

“You wanna hear about the time Rex tried to dye his hair to match us, and ended up with orange hair?” Fox asks, “I have pictures.”

You muffle a giggle, “I’d love to.”

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#star wars #tcw #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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ct7567329 · 16 days ago

Text

Yours, Always ~ Rex x F! Jedi Reader

Summary: After a near-death experience on the battlefield, Rex is determined to make it clear who you belong to. Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: emotionally charged/rough p in v sex (18+ this is filthy), canon-typical violence, angsty A/N: i've been dying to write some rex smut lately so i hope you all enjoy ;) i also have a "morning after" scene that involves the 501st teasing tf out of you two if anyone is interested in me posting that! join my taglist / masterlist

The gunship was crowded and suffocatingly quiet.

Heat scoring still smoked on your robe. You didn’t even sit down, but instead just stood there near the bay doors, bracing yourself against the hull and trying not to look like your hands were shaking. They were, though. You could still feel the charge of the cannon blast that missed you by inches.

It wasn’t the heat from the battlefield that had your heart racing though. It was Rex.

He sat across from you, helmet on, fingers curled tight around the edge of the bench like he was holding himself back from doing something he would regret. Although you couldn’t see his eyes, you could tell his eyes haven’t broken away from you since you climbed aboard. Not when Kix muttered something about the Force keeping you alive. Not when Jesse clapped you on the shoulder for ‘saving the day’. Not even when the wind of exiting the atmosphere roared against the ship and forced the others to look away.

His stare felt like his hand pressed to your throat. He was furious, but not barking-orders furious or battlefield angry. This was much deeper and you felt it too.

Every time the gunship shuddered, you swore your eyes met his through his visor, setting off sparks like a live wire. Except they weren’t the fun sparks - they were the unspoken and unresolved ones. This was about the mission and about what you’d done. Everyone around you could feel it.

You caught Hardcase smirking at Dogma, who tried to hide the way he was studying Rex’s posture. Jesse, who was seated just next to you, leaned his arms across his knees, faced Fives and muttered under his breath, “Well, we’re either getting a wedding or a court martial after this.”

It was just loud enough for you to hear. Fives snorted. You didn’t take your eyes off Rex and neither did he.

The tension in the gunship was suffocating. So suffocating that the second it docked in the hangar and the doors hissed open, you didn’t wait. You turned and stepped out quickly like there was something urgently awaiting your attention elsewhere. There wasn’t anything through, just your Captain behind you, watching your every move.

Tradition was going to have to slide today. You were in no mood for a ‘post successful mission meal’ with the rest of the 501st. Instead, you just sauntered your way to your quarters - and the men let you. Well, almost all of them did. You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know he was behind you. His presence chased you like a storm.

You could feel him trailing you through the corridor. Rex was silent and never more than a few paces back. He was good at following orders and better at giving them, but when it came to you, his discipline had its limits. Right now, you were sure he was one command away from breaking all of them.

Farther behind you, the rest of the squad was peeling off toward the mess, their chatter just loud enough to reach your ears. “Yeah, no way we’re seeing Rex in the mess tonight,” Fives cooed, rounding the corner that separated the mess hall from the Jedi quarters.

“Oh, he’s headed somewhere messier,” Jesse chuckled back, almost too casually. You didn’t turn around, nor did you need to. You knew the smug grin that was probably spreading across Jesse’s face and you definitely didn’t miss the low whistle that followed.

Once at your door, your palm hovered over the panel for a beat too long before you keyed it open. The door slid back with a hiss and you stepped inside - the soft thunk of his armor behind you.

Rex clicked the lock shut behind you. His eyes were dark and fixed on you like he was barely holding back the tide. That’s when you realized that this wasn’t going to be a conversation. It was going to be a reckoning.

You barely had time to breathe before he was on you.

Rex moved like he’d been holding back every last bit of patience he had in him and the lock clicking shut was the last thread snapping. He ripped off his helmet, gloves, and pauldron, tossing them to the floor with a hollow clang, before putting his hands on your shoulders. The motion was rough, unyielding, and hungry.

“You think I don’t see what you do out there?” he growled,“You think I don’t feel it every time you throw yourself into danger like your life doesn’t mean anything?”

You let out a startled gasp as your back hit the wall, his body crowding yours with heat and tension wound far too tight, “Rex-”

“No. Don’t,” he cut in, hands braced on either side of your head now, muscles flexing, “Don’t talk your way around this. You scared me.” His voice cracked at the edges, like the words were tearing out of him, “You ran straight into that cannon’s line of fire. Force help me, I thought I was gonna watch you die.”

You opened your mouth to speak or to explain or to soothe him, but one look in his eyes and you knew that he didn’t want comfort. He just wanted you.

“I couldn’t lose you,” he whispered, “Not you. Not when you’re-” He swallowed hard, knowing his next words are one he thought he’d never get to say to anyone, “You’re everything to me.”

Your heart stuttered. Your hands moved instinctively, gripping his sides, fingers brushing the edge of his blacks where his armor gave way to skin, “But I’m here,” you reassured him, “I made it back.”

“That’s not enough,” he rasped, his voice louder now, “It’s not enough just to survive when, kriffing maker, I need you.”

He didn’t give you time to answer. His mouth desperately and possessively crushed against yours, his hands tangling in your robe like he had to feel you just to prove you were real. The kiss was all teeth and heat. Almost like he was punishing you for scaring him, and punishing himself for letting you.

Your hands slid into his hair, anchoring him to you, triggering a low groan in his throat. His hips pressed into yours and although his armor was cold, you could feel his body burning beneath it. Just as you went to part from his lips for air, he was already one step ahead. Within moments, his mouth was everywhere.

Teeth scraped along your jaw and down your throat before settling on your collarbone like he needed to mark you and brand you as his. You gasped, tilting your back against the wall as Rex pressed closer, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other wrestled your robe off your shoulders.

“Mine,” he grumbled against your skin, “You’re mine. You don’t get to risk yourself like that. Not when I’ve been losing my mind just thinking about what it would do to me if I-” his voice broke again. You felt the sharp tremble in his breath as his fingers dragged down your waist, “I thought I lost you today.”

His breath was heavy against your clavicle. Slowly, you shifted your head, allowing yourself to place soft kisses across his cheek and up to his ear, where you stopped, “Rex, I’m right here.”

That did it. Something in him snapped.

He picked his head up fast - scooping you up in one motion and tossing you onto your perfectly made bed. Your quarters were instantly filled with the sound of the remainder of his armor being snapped off and discarded haphazardly across the floor at an impressive rate.

“You should see your face right now,” you teased, trying to bite back a smirk, “I’ve never seen armor come off that quick.”

Rex chucked the last of his armor across the room, leaving him in only his blacks, before mounting himself across your thighs, placing his hands at the hem of your waistband. He paused, slowly curling his body down to press his lips into the side of your head. “Keep talking,” he snarled against your ear, shoving your pants down roughly, “See how long that attitude lasts.”

You whimpered. He was already hard and grinding against you through the blacks with zero patience, like he’d rip through the fabric of his blacks if it meant getting to you faster. Your hand dropped to return the favor, tugging at his waistband.

He hissed between his teeth when your fingers brushed against him, “Fuck, you drive me insane.”

“Good,” you huffed, nipping at his neck, “Then we’re even.”

That broke the last of his control. He hooked one of your legs up around his waist, shoved his blacks down just far enough, and pressed into you all at once. The thrust was deep, fast and accompanied a desperate growl that vibrated straight through your spine.

You cried out, back arching into his clothed chest as he filled you with his entire length. There was no buildup, no teasing - just raw, ragged need, “Stars, Rex.”

“Too much?” he grinned, pausing while fully inserted into you.

“Not even close.”

Rex then set a brutal pace, his thrusts snapping into you like he had something to prove. Perhaps he did. Maybe it wasn’t just about the fear or the fury or the way you’d looked back at him through the smoke like you didn’t realize what it would do to him if you died.

Maybe it was about ownership. Maybe it was about making sure you never forgot who you belonged to. Maybe it was about making sure you knew that you were more important to him than being a soldier.

You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred skin beneath his blacks. He buried his face in your neck, panting against your skin as his rhythm got even rougher, your name breaking off his lips like prayer and curse all at once.

“You’re mine,” he reminded you again, teeth scraping your shoulder.

“Yes,” you gasped, dizzy from the intensity, speed and stretch of him slamming into you, “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

Hearing those words from your lips sent a slight shutter down his spine. Almost as if your words gave him some sort of surge, he plunged himself even deeper into you, forcing an involuntary whine out of you as he hit new depths.

“Don't sto-” you attempted to rasp out as Rex continued to ruthlessly drive deeper into you, muffling your words with your own moans.

“Why. Would. I. Stop,” he gritted between thrusts, “After. Finding. Your. Sweet. Spot?” The smug, hungry heat in his voice lit every nerve inside you on fire. He was relentless now, driving his cock into you at the same devastating angle over and over again, hitting so deep and so precise it knocked the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t even find the words anymore, just breathless gasps and broken whimpers as your body clenched around him, trying to hold on and falling apart all at once.

“Yeah,” Rex muttered darkly against your forehead, “Right there, huh? That the spot you lose your mind for me?”

You could only nod and shut your eyes, dizzy from the pressure building low and fast in your core, twitching your hips with every deep drag of him inside you.

“Look at me,” he growled, pulling back just enough to cup your jaw and tilt your face to his, the motion forcing your eyes open. Sweat began to bead at his temples,“You tell me when you’re close, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, a sob of pleasure caught in your throat as he slammed into you again, and again, and again, “Rex,” you cried, your thigh trembling against him, “Rex, please - I’m gonna-”

“That’s it,” he grunted, his thrusts ragged now, chasing both your highs like an animal hunting for prey, “Come with me.”

It hit you like a shockwave - your whole body arching against his, muscles locking around him as you shattered on his cock, crying out his name Rex followed with a low, guttural groan, burying himself as deep as he could, clutching you tight as his climax pulsed hot inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound filling the room was each of your muffled breaths as he held you like he could anchor himself in you forever. You slowly moved your hands from his back to his head while you watched his back rise and fall with each labored breath as he tried to steady himself. You began to scratch his head - which was still buried between your shoulder and the pillow - earning yourself a sigh of content from Rex.

Slowly, he shifted his head to face you, eyes half cracked and glassy, with his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words just yet. Still nestled between your thighs, you could feel all the tension drain from his body. Without warning, he slipped out of you, replacing the space he just filled with the dazed, disarmed warmth you only ever got from him.

You trailed your fingertips from his head down to his cheek, cupping it. He nuzzled into your palm instinctually.

“Hey,” you whispered, giving him a soft smile, “Still with me?”

Rex didn’t speak right away. He just nodded once, his nose brushing yours as his hand slipped up your side, dragging across sweat-damp skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

“I’m here,” he mumbled eventually, “I just. I just needed to feel you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then just under his ear, letting out a soft laugh “I’d say you did.” That seemed to finally loosen something in him. He shifted his weight carefully, allowing himself to take off the top half of his blacks before doing the same with your top and chest band.

“I probably should have taken those off for us earlier,” he chuckled under his breath before placing his mouth on your chin, planting kisses down your neck, collarbone, and chest. They were the kind of slow, open-mouthed kisses that said thank you; that said I’m sorry.

He slid down the bed, scanning your body for any bruises he might have just left behind. His hands roamed softly, over your stomach, hips and thighs. Anywhere that had been bruised or bitten or gripped too hard in the heat of the moment was met with the most delicate touch of his lips.

Eventually, he pulled the sheets up around you both and settled at your side. You threw one leg across his hips and placed one arm over his chest, resting your head perfectly in the crook of his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I was rough with you. You just scare the hell out of me you know,” he confessed against your shoulder. “Every time you jump in front of a blaster or run headfirst into danger, I feel like I can't breathe until you come back.”

You angled your neck up to face him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

His eyes flicked down to meet yours. You could swear they were wet with a little red around the edges, “I don’t need careful. I just need you.” He pressed his head forward to kiss you slow and deep. So slow and so deep it stole what little breath you had left. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone like he was afraid you might disappear again. You kissed him back with everything you had. Not because it was expected, but because loving him felt like coming home.

tags:

@trixie2023 @clon3wh0r3 @melonmochiii @alice-in-wonderland111 @marvel-starwars-nerd @simping-for-fives @horsegirl4561 @koskareevesismyqueen @katelynnwrites @pinkiemme @youmaynowdothething @808tsuika @dangerdumpling @ahsoka-padme @persaloodles @soclonely @coffeeandtodd @gryffindorqueensworld @obiorbenkenobi @jedi-dreea @lightning-wolffe @msmeredithrose @orangez3st @alor-ika

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