#caff if you’re out there i’m so sorry this happened to you

[all-this-panic-still-no-disco]

that moment when you find out one of your fav ao3 authors dropped off the face of the earth, deleted their tumblr, and privatized their fics because they apparently GOT FUCKING STALKED and you panic for this poor person then feel awful because you wish you had the fics but then you find some discord with a google drive of EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN THING THEY’VE WRITTEN… god bless the internet

[dragonrider9905]

🐠🐙🦈

I was supposed to copy/paste those symbols, right? 😆💜

Thank you so much for the ask dearie @apocalyp-tech-a !!!!! Sorry it took me so long to reply. Got a lot going on lately but this really made me smile!!!!

🐠 a funny quote from a published work

It felt hard to choose one because I have fun with humor even though I don’t think I’m that funny. But this passage comes from an one shot called “No One Outranks the Medic”!

“Oh he is next.” Blaze cut in, making his entrance. “Sorry, Commander, no caff. It’s not good to mix that with your flu medicine. It’ll make your stomach upset. Again. And I’m not cleaning up your sick for the second time after you retrieve some from your secret stash. So I swiped it! No more secret runs. You’ll get some sleep for once.”

“I’ll take my chances.” The mound under the sheets spoke. “Give me caff or give me death.”

“Neither is an option, Sir.”

Fox groaned. “That’s an order. You can’t do that.”

Blackeye grinned. “Oh yes he can. Wanna know why?”

“No.” Wolffe growled, crossing his arms over his chest so his medic couldn’t get to his chest wound.

“We’ll, you’re going to hear it anyway.” Blaze chuckled.

“No one, I mean absolutely no one, outranks the medic!” Kix clearly was enjoying his moment of glory and vindication too much.

🐙 a pretty/elaborate quote from a published work

I try my hardest to write pretty things but it is funny how sometimes the things that stand out to you aren’t the things that stand out to others. So for this one I’m picking a passage someone said they really liked of mine from my Tech and Reader insert “Don’t Call Me Flower”:

Tech watched you hunched over on the pier, staring into the water and dangling your legs carefully over the edge. Your easy, relaxed smile he would often see on your face when you were alone or you thought no one was watching, was not present, and a feeling of worry washed over him.

Your eyebrows pressed together, hyper-focusing on something that wasn’t there. Lips were turned into a frown and mind distracted.

That really wasn’t like you. From what he observed, you were quiet…but also observant. You watched and understood everything that was happening. You always knew your surroundings and not much got past you. Your eyes were ever watchful, a hidden light which carried a flame underneath. A mysterious flame that intrigued and fascinated him. It danced with an unshed energy which promised something great, though what was yet to be seen—your power veiled behind a mask.

There was so much to you.

And he enjoyed every moment you let him in to discover something new.

The hidden garden of knowledge in the vastness of your mind and imagination was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. You brought up points he never even considered, and they excited him. Not many people outside his family had the ability to evoke an emotion of happiness from him.

You did.

🦈 recommend a complete fic!

Heh. Heh. Heh. *sweats nervously realizing I have so many wips XD* I start soooooo many fics thinking they’re going to be a one shot then end up making it multi chapter or a series XD haha as you can see already from this post XD so hmmmmmmm, I’d say I recommend “This Bond Between Us” which is a force sensitive Hunter one shot focused on his and Crosshair’s brotherhood then there is “Got Spirit, That One” which is how Cody met Rex and how they became such good brothers!

Thanks again for the ask 🤗 I love hearing from you ❤️

Published Works Game

[mytrashcanlife]

As Fire Loves Innocence (Xavier Thorpe x Reader) Pt 7

Trigger Warning: Mentions of SA and Trauma, Angst, Mentions of underaged drinking. 

“You must be my Nevermore Workers.” You feel Xavier tense up beside you. Nobody speaks for a moment as you notice that the tall black man in front of you is staring at Xavier with an icy look. “Lucas, what are you doing here?” “Tyler left town last year and I picked up the job. Dad thought this would help me build character” You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, but you just wanted to get behind the bar and start this day. The sooner you start the sooner it ends, and you can go home, so you decide to introduce yourself. “Hi. My name is Y/N. Lucas, right?” You see suspicion in his eyes as he looks you over. You had worn a simple black t-shirt and matching pants to avoid getting your school uniform messed up. “Yeah. Nice to meet you. Xavier, you were here last year you know what to do grab an apron from the back for your friend too.” Xavier leaves through the swinging door to the back room. “Y/N, is it? Have you ever worked with espresso before?” “Yes sir. I was a Barista back home before I transferred to evermore.” “Perfect you’re behind the bar with your Xavier. If you need anything I’ll be in the break room.” As Xavier comes back to you with an apron Lucas disappears leaving the two of you alone at the front of the Café. It was empty at the moment, so you took the time to start wiping the tables, while Xavier was making sure everything behind the bar was working and clean.   “So, Xavier?” “Yeah?” “What’s with you and Lucas giving each other the look of death?” “He and his friends have caused nothing but trouble for Nevermore. You remember when Enid told you some kids destroyed my mural?” “Yeah. That was awful.” “That was him and his buddies.” “Oh. I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” As more people started to arrive at the caffe the two of you had split up duties. You were currently at the register while Xavier had gone to the back room to grab some more syrups. Just as the last customer in a while was leaving, two more boys walk in and they look surprised to see you. You put on your best customer service smile and voice. “Hello. Welcome to the Weathervane. What can I get started for you today?” “You’re new. What’s your name?” “I’m temporary. My name is Y/N L/N. I’m here for outreach day from Nevermore.  So, what can I get started for you today?” His friend speaks up behind him. “Wait a minute I know that name. You’re that girl that burned a man alive! They let you out in public after that?” Your heart is beating faster, and you feel your breath shortening. “That’s not what happened.” “That’s what the court says happened.” “I-I-I didn’t—“ “Hey what’s going on?” You look up to see Xavier walking over. “Leave her alone asshole.” The boy in front of you begins to laugh. “Xavier?! What is this your new freak of a girlfriend?” One of them reaches over the counter and grabs your wrist. “Pigtails and knives wasn’t enough for you? You wanted to play with fire too? “Don’t touch me!” You grab his hand on your wrist. SSSS “OW!” He lets go of you and pulls his hand back. It’s bright red and smoking slightly as if he had touched a stove. “The bitch burned me!” You feel the panic start to set in and look at Xavier with wide eyes. “I-I didn’t mean to. I promise.” “It’s okay.” “It is NOT OKAY she burned me! I’m telling the sheriff!” Without a word Xavier grabs a nearby cup of drip coffee and throws it on his already burned hand. The coffee covers a good bit of him, but it isn’t quite hot enough to do much damage. “What the hell dude!” “Dude we gotta get out of here.” At that moment Lucas emerged from the break room to see what all the yelling was for. He saw the end of the scene in the dining room as his friends were leaving. “What on earth happened?!” Before you can say anything, Xavier speaks up. “Your friends came in to harass mine. I spilled coffee on him, and he ran.” “Great. I’ll have to deal with that later too!” Lucas returns to the back room, and you turned to Xavier. “Thank you.” “It was nothing.” “No, it was something. I actually lost control and you took the blame for me. You know the principle is gonna be pissed when she finds out about this.” “I can handle her. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “Good. That’s all that matters, and I’ll bet you anything they won’t touch you again.”

[heaven-s-black-box]

Night out- Clones

Return to File

Recovery date: July 20th, 2022

Description: The clones head out for a well deserved night on the town.

Notes: An entry from my 2022 research project into the universe of Star Wars. You can find the next entry here.

Word count: 494

Back to directory

“You want to join us, general?” Jesse grinned.

He was leaning to look over behind Kix, with his arm slung around Fives, as they discussed their plans for the night. It was rare they’d have shore leave, much less a free evening, so they were determined to enjoy it.

Anakin and Ahsoka were busy discussing the mission they just finished. They were standing a little away from the clones, Ahsoka was frowning as Anakin scolded her for being reckless. Like he was one to talk.

The two generals turned to their squad.

“Uh, sorry, I have… plans.”

Fives snickered, Jesse’s grin widened, and Kix’s shoulders began to shake as he turned to face the generals. Everyone under general Skywalker knew that plans meant seeing senator Amidala, and his awkwardness always made them laugh.

“I’m free.”

“Sorry kid,” Rex came up behind her and clasped her shoulder, “once you can legally drink we’ll take you out to 79s. Until then, we can go for caff tomorrow.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she grinned. 

“Don’t worry, Rex doesn’t really drink. Fives on the other hand…” Kix trailed off, a wide shit eating grin on his face. “OW!” Fives whacked him in the back of the head.

“I’ll take a video and show you tomorrow,” Echo offered before mumbling, “assuming he doesn’t get too out of control.”

“Besides,” Anakin rapped his knuckles on Ahsoka’s head, “you have paperwork.”

“And you don’t?”

“Would you look at that, Cody and the others’ll probably be on their way now. Goodbye generals!” 

Jesse and Rex dragged their brothers away from the bickering generals and out into the streets of coruscant. 

“I’m not that bad when I’m drunk, am I?” Fives asked as they got into a speeder.

“One time I had to stop you from fighting your own reflection,” Rex sighed. “Actually, no, that definitely happened more than once because there was also the time with the fountain.”

Fives covered his face and shrunk in on himself a bit, making his brothers laugh.

“Don’t worry, it only happens when you’re reaaalllyy drunk,” Echo smiled. “At least you're not a complete asshole, unlike some people.”

“I hate to talk bad about our brothers,” kix rested his arm on the back of one of the seats to turn to his brothers, “but some of them are real nasty when drunk.”

They all nodded somewhat solemnly in agreement, sitting in silence for the rest of the ride.

When they got out at 79s, they thanked the driver and tipped him nicely. It wasn’t like they had much chance to spend their credits anyways.

“Cody here yet?”

Rex shrugged.

“We can head in and look for him, if he’s not here I’ll comm him.”

“Hey kix, wanna go get free drinks?”

Kix sighed, “if you lose and we have to buy another group drinks i’m going to make your next patch up sting.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fine. Now, let’s head in!”

[aahsokaatano]

What do you think is Clone etiquette for accidently mistaking one Vod for another?

Like, even irl people ocassionally call each other by the wrong names. My dad has called me by my uncle's name. And his secretary's name. And my mom's name. So what happens when one clone accidently mixes up two others?

Is it less frowned upon if they've just met or are still at Kamino amd not allowed to start showing individualism yet?

Or what happens when it's the galactic equivalent of 3 a.m. in the cafeteria after a long day, and a clone who's known another for their whole lives calls the wrong name by accident?

Say, Echo without even looking up from his empty cup, telling Rex "Fives, pass the caff would you"

1. Exhausted - Torrent

"Fives, pass the caff, would you?"

It takes Rex a moment to realize that Echo is talking to him, and then only because the caff pot is directly in front of Rex's tray.

They were coming off a hard mission - Torrent's three ARCs had been gone for almost a month chasing down rumors of a new type of commando droid. They had only returned to the Resolute about an hour ago - Jesse had gone to find Kix immediately, Fives had wandered off towards the barracks already looking half-asleep, and Echo's growling stomach had led him to the mess.

Rex looked at Echo and found that his eyes were closed even as he pushed his mug vaguely in Rex's direction.

He would forgive the slip; Echo clearly was two seconds from falling into dreams.

"How about instead of caff, I show you to your rack?" Rex suggested, standing up and moving around the table to help Echo to his feet.

(If Echo remembered the mistake, or the way Rex half-carried him to the barracks, he didn't mention it the next day.)

2. Just Met - Wolfpack

“You must be Wolffe’s new shiny,” Sinker smiled broadly as he held out a hand. “Comet, right?”

“Er... I’m Nebula,” the trooper said awkwardly. “The other new shiny. Comet is my batchmate.”

“Oh,” Sinker grimaced at his own mistake. “Sorry about that, vod.”

Nebula shrugged. “It’s alright. You didn’t know. For future reference, though, Comet has blue hair.” “Noted!” Sinker said. “It’s nice to meet you, Nebula.”

He smiled. “You too, ah... Boost, is it?”

He laughed. “Suppose I deserved that - I’m Sinker. Boost’s over there.” He gestured vaguely towards where Boost and Wolffe were having a quiet discussion on the other side of the hanger.

Nebula shook his head and laughed. “Well, at least now we know.”

3. Honest Mistake - Lightning

“Ponds! There you are.” Ponds turned at the call, a little confused - he prided himself on his ability to tell apart his brothers just by voice, but that wasn’t any of the Shebse, or Edee, and he couldn’t really think of any other CCs who would call out to him with that sort of exasperated fondness.

Walking up behind him was a grinning vod in freshly-painted armor. He did a little spin as he got closer, showing off the design he had chosen. “What do you think?”

“Looks good, trooper,” Ponds said, amused as he finally caught on to what was happening. “Tell me, when your squaddies told you to go show Ponds your new armor, did they specifically say to find the bald one?”

The vod furrowed his brow, confused. “What do you - oh kark, I mean - Commander! Sir!” He snapped an extremely belated salute, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

Ponds laughed. “At ease, vod. No harm done. Lieutenant Ponds and I are frequently sent messages meant for the other. I like the paint - you have a good eye for details.”

“T-thank you, sir,” the trooper said, standing in a perfect parade rest. 

“Go on,” Ponds waved him off with a grin. “Your squad is waiting for a dressing-down, I imagine.”

“Too right they are, sir,” the trooper groaned, spinning around and hurrying back the way he had come. 

4. Messing with Nat-borns - Wave

“Commander, you want to have a little fun?”

Caleb gave Sergeant Soot a questioning look. “Fun how?”

The trooper grinned widely at the Jedi. “Just watch.”

Caleb looked in the direction Soot indicated, and saw that a nat-born officer was approaching the desk where Captain Styles and Sergeant Harp were talking quietly.

“Captain, a word?”

Without missing a beat, Harp looked up. “Yessir?”

The officer blinked, looking between the two clones in confusion. “Er... I need to speak with Captain Styles.”

“Yessir, I’m listening,” Harp said.

Styles gave the two a nod and stepped away.

Caleb bit the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling out loud and giving the game away.

Soot moved in as Styles stopped on Caleb’s other side.

“You needed me, sir?” Soot asked politely.

The nat-born officer looked even more confused. “Ah... I just need to ask Captain Styles a question.”

“Yessir,” Soot and Harp said in perfect unison. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in parade rest, looking for all the world like whatever the officer had to say, it was the most interesting part of their day.

Caleb covered his mouth with his hand as the officer gave up and started explaining his question to the two troopers who were most definitely not Captain Styles.

5. Stress - Nova

“Wolf, get down!”

Wolf experienced the very unique feeling of Marshal Commander Bacara bodily throwing himself onto Wolf’s person in the nanosecond between hearing the shout and comprehending the message. 

An explosion rattled their buckets, but it wasn’t as close as Wolf had thought it would be, after that panicked call.

There was some cursing and more shouting for Wolf over the comms and he didn’t really understand why, he was fine - would have been fine even if the Commander hadn’t tackled him -

“Kark,” Bacara grunted, hauling himself up and looking to the side, where smoke was rising. “Kark. That’s where Wolf and Keller were holed up - come on!”

There was a horrible swooping sensation in Wolf’s gut. Not him - the shouts were for the other Wolf, the armorer. 

The ARC scrambled to his feet and ran after Bacara, towards where hopefully, hopefully, their medic and their armorer weren’t suffering anything more severe than some busted comm units.

+1. On Purpose - Ghost  (direct lead-in to this drabble)

“Who’s got the best Cody impression?” Waxer called, leaning into the meeting room near Cody’s office that had been quickly surrendered to the Ghosts not long after all the Vode had come Home.

“Boil!” several people shouted back immediately.

“See?” Waxer said triumphantly, turning to give Boil a smug grin. “I told you you’re the best.”

Boil gave a long-suffering sigh. “But my mustache, Waxer!”

“It’ll grow back,” he assured him, before looking back at the room. “Oi, Paint! We need your skills!”

Paint leveraged himself up from the beanbag chair in the corner and sauntered over. “What’re we doing?” they asked curiously.

“We’re turning Boil into the Vod’alor,” Waxer grinned. “Because if Cody actually attends this meeting with this stupid Republic representative, he’s going to pop a blood vessel and Brix will kill us all.”

Paint grinned and eyed Boil speculatively. “So you need a fake scar to complete the picture.”

“Got it in one,” Waxer said, looking very pleased with himself.

Boil just looked resigned to his fate, but all the Ghosts knew that as soon as he looked the part, he would take to the role with gusto.

[swbumblebee]

What if Qui-Gon Jinn was not particularly special in his post-mortem abilities?

AKA “Old Ben” and his many Force parents.

They had all watched, their collective Force aura swamped in sadness, grief and longing, as Qui-Gon finally introduced himself to Obi-Wan.

They’d never call him ‘Old Ben’. The fact that he was only 40 years old notwithstanding, this was the boy they’d raised, grown up with, idolised. They remembered him toddling about the gardens, fascinated by the brightly coloured flowers; Getting shy around pretty people and developing awkward crushes. They remembered him standing alone at the head of an army, quietly confident and immeasurably capable. They had vivid memories of him carrying them back to the creche, so steady and strong; of his measured wisdom, and the confidence that Obi-Wan Kenobi would always triumph.

They remembered the mullet.

Nobody named “Old Ben” ever had a mullet.

The man they now, as they always had really, looked to for a light when everything else went dark.

They didn’t catch the murmured words. They were Jedi after all, (even if they were now technically one big Jedi rather than a temple full of Jedi) and eavesdropping was rude. Nobody listened to the sulky mutterings of the presence that was Quinlan Vos.

Their boy was nodding, sitting quietly on the floor whilst he finally, finally after weeks of careful and gentle persuasion, of them all keeping a tight rein on the order’s maverick (“Do not, we repeat do not, come out of the water tank. You’ll give him a cardiac arrest or something”) believed in the presence he saw before him.

They watched once more, pleased, as their missing piece allowed himself to be bullied to his feet, and guided over to the pile of blankets he called a bed.

They could feel Qui-Gon’s bitter relief as he perched next to his former student, his longing to pull the blankets up around his boy and smooth back his hair.

But words were all they had.

Still, as Obi-Wan Kenobi had shown the Galaxy; you could do a lot with words.

---

They’d argued (as much as an incorporeal fusion of spirits could argue) at length over who got to go next.

“I knew him longest, he’ll trust me!”

“He needs someone calm, measured. I will go”

“No offence Master Plo but you’ll make him cry. He needs cheering up, I’ll go!”

“Vos so help me Force-“

“I was the Master of the Order, I should do it”

“Master, we’re dead. I’m not sure seniority applies.”

In the end it was narrowed down to two options; Bant Erin, Obi-Wan’s oldest friend. Sweet natured and kind, she would be the perfect choice.

And Mace Windu.

It turns out seniority does still apply beyond the grave.

---

A small part of Obi-Wan’s subconscious was telling him that it was starting to get a bit awkward.

The transparent blue form of Mace Windu was looking down at him, the welcoming smile quickly turning into a grimace.

“…Obi-Wan?”

No. no no no this was not happening. He didn’t have time to go round the bend he had a child to protect!

He wasn’t sure if it was reasonable to measure sanity on the volume of dead loved ones he was hallucinating, but somehow one seemed saner than two.

Though it turns out he’s insane, and so not a good barometer of these things.

He knew his stare was starting to get very unnerving as his hysterical inner-ramblings reached a fever pitch.

“…Obi-Wan, are you alright?” Imaginary Mace Windu asked, concern and a tiny bit of nervousness showing on his face.

“I’m fine, how are you?” Obi-Wan asked, remembering a solid piece of advice from his formative years; Always fall back upon good manners when in unfamiliar territory Padawan mine.

Well, this was about as unfamiliar as it got.

Imaginary Mace looked at him, utterly baffled for a moment.

“Well…I’m dead, I suppose, is how I am” he answered awkwardly.

“Right. Obviously.” Obi-Wan nodded politely. “My condolences”

There was another awkward silence.

Imaginary Mace tilted his head for a moment, listening for something.

“Well…here I am” he said, spreading his arms a little.

“…yes.”

The other Jedi frowned at Obi-Wan’s strained reply and his act of scrubbing his hands down his face as if to wipe away the image in front of him.

“Qui-Gon didn’t…didn’t mention we were coming?” he asked tentatively.

Obi-Wan shook his head, wordlessly.

The frown on Imaginary Mace turned into a complete scowl as the pieces seemed to fall into place.

“JINN” he bellowed, and Obi-Wan felt it echo in the Force like nothing before.

“He can’t hear you, he’s with Yoda”

Another figure popped into existence next to Mace, and Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes once again as Depa Billaba bowed to him.

“Obi-Wan” she greeted with a grin.

“…hi” He took a deep breath, mentally cursing his absent-minded Master.

“Are you alright?” Depa didn’t stop for a reply as she looked down with him and gestured at him, gently instructing him to get up from the floor. “Oh look you’ve scraped your knee there! Master I knew you’d startle him!” she scolded her former Master.

It felt like he was having an out of body experience as Depa ushered him into a chair (the only chair in the hut), Mace looking on anxiously.

“There we go” Depa soothed as she got him settled “I wish we could make you some tea my friend.” She said disappointedly.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“You ah…you can’t?” he asked, something permeating the haze. Of this whole situation, that seemed by far the most unfair thing.

Mace smiled encouragingly, seemingly happier to be on more binary ground.

“I’m afraid not, we are beings of the Force, like your Master.” He explained, before scowling again. “Who, I would kill if he weren’t already dead,” he growled.

“I’m so sorry Obi-Wan” Depa said, dismayed “We all wanted to come and be with you, but we though Qui-Gon might be best to start with, so as not to overwhelm you”

“Sorry about that” Mace said apologetically.

They sat in silence a moment, Depa and Mace watching him process.

For the first time ever, Obi-Wan had exactly zero thoughts in his head.

He was starting to feel the pressure.

“All?” he tried.

Depa and Mace looked at each other.

“You ah…you said ‘all wanted to come’” he clarified.

Depa nodded happily.

“Yes yes, we’re all there Obi-Wan” she smiled at him

“Any Jedi slain by a Sith, or the machinations of the Sith, is there” Mace explained.

Obi-Wan was having the slightest bit of trouble taking deep breaths. Neither of his companions seemed to have noticed.

“Where?” he asked, only mildly aware that his voice was getting just a little pitchy.

“In the Force, we’re all one in the Force” Depa started again, and then paused a little lost for words.

“We’re all together and we kind of…share our presences” Mace picked up, with difficulty “Everyone who was killed by Palpatine’s evil, everyone from us right down to the littlest initiate, we share one consciousness in the Force.”

Obi-Wan was none the wiser.

Mace waved a hand frustratedly.

“Sorry, Plo explains it better”

“Plo?” Obi-Wan loved Master Plo. He loved all of them. And they were gone.

“Hello Obi-Wan”

“Well, if Plo and Depa get to see him I’m bloody well here too!”

“Hi Obi”

“Obes!”

He could only watch, speechless, as the faces of old friends, comrades, mentors and carers crammed into his hut, all looking at him with unadulterated, unfiltered pleasure and love was the last thing he saw before his scrambled brain decided it’d had enough, and he knew nothing but darkness.

---

It turns out, living with the forms of all your dead teachers, carers and friends was actually rather trying, after a while.

“Oh thank goodness you’re not still drinking that awful caff”

“I like caff – Master Plo please don’t try and lift that”

“Relax Obi dear, we’re incorporeal”

“Can still see things though”

“Vos get out of my fresher!”

“What does this do?”

“Never you mind. No don’t – Ugh. Why don’t some nice, well behaved padawans ever come to see me?”

“They’re not allowed, only those who knew you personally can visit. We thought it might get a bit stressful otherwise.”

“…I can’t imagine.”

Aside from having to adapt his busy routine to accommodate half a dozen fidgety and curious…ghosts (?) poking around his small hut at any one time, another unexpected addition to his (attempted) isolation on Tatooine was the nagging. And Force could they nag! The concentrated worry of many, many, beings with nowhere else to direct their extra energies was powerful.

“Obi-Wan you haven’t drank enough today. Go and check the vaporators”

“Padawan aren’t you going to eat?”

“Listen, that plie of cloth can’t be good for your spine”

“Force! Get some sun block Kenobi or you’re going to look like an old shoe in three months”

“No right, I saw a sunhat he can buy at the market”

It was…weird. He’d always been very self-sufficient, not to mention being the centre of everyone’s attention was difficult, to say the least. But as the months went on, he found himself transitioning from awkward acquiescence to see-sawing between mulishness and good-natured obedience. The stubbornness rising usually when the despair did. But those days were few and far between.

And now, when they did occur (for one can only avoid one’s demons for so long) and he felt like he was drowning in the weight of existence, he could rely on his friends for encouragement, care, and the motivation to carry on.

“If you join us before your time I will KILL you Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now kriffing well eat something!”

---

Of course, when their brother, friend, son, comrade, teacher and last hope did at last join them, there was no nagging or disappointment (or violence). The ultimate Jedi was back in the fold and they were once again complete.

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

Help a sister Out? And Maybe all her brothers| Omega

Note: Omegas a growing kid (Like 11 or 12 I think she is) and of course...has to deal with female problems yay...puberty...

Warnings: uh puberty talk- is that a warning? Idk Omega learns a curse word too

Reader: Female

"Y/n. Y/n! Please get up!" Omega begged the sleeping woman as quick as she could, tucked under her bunk mates arm.

"Mhmm...Omega?" Y/n questioned turning around to face her, seeing the worried look on the girl's face.

"What's wrong?" Y/n spoke sitting up making sure not to disturb Tech, the worried on Omega's face scarred her, had something happened?

"I-I'm bleeding..." Omega spoke embarrassed.

"Bleeding?" Y/n questioned.

Omega nodded tears threatening to fall, "I-I didn't hurt myself, I know I didn't- but Im bleeding and I-"

"Omega, sweety calm down." Y/n spoke sitting up escaping Tech's arm, "tell me everything."

"I woke up-and I- I felt blood running down my leg- a-and. I- I didn't wanna wake Hunter- so I woke you and..."

Y/n only nodded, "go to the refresher and we'll talk."

Omega nodded in response rushing off, grabbing her personal bag she stowed away for both space and personal reasons she walked back to the refresher.

"Get in the shower and clean yourself, Don't worry I'll explain everything while you're in there," Y/n explained as she nodded rushing to turn the water on a strip of her clothes. Y/n washing Omeag's clothes in the sink.

"Omega when we stop at the next city, I'll take you shopping, if you'd like I can make you a set of blacks but need the fabric, you have extra clothes right?"

"Only one set...in my bunk..."She spoke worriedly, "why is this happening?"

Y/n frowned at her whispering washing the blood down the drain, "It's okay Omega. It's natural. It means your getting older. I know. It sucks...."

"I'm not gonna die?" She questioned.

"What? No." Y/n responded, "It just means your getting older like I said, I get the same too."

"You do?"

"Yep. It's natural and means you're healthy."

"Oh..." Omega responded, "does Hunter and them get this?"

"No. They don't." Y/n responded, "It comes with being a female is all. I'll be back let me get your extra clothes."

"Okay..."

Y/n rushed to get Omega's extra set of clothes, carefully walking through the isle of sleeping men retrieving her clothes, and rushing back to Omega.

"I got them." Y/n spoke going back to ringing out Omega's clothes, "you almost done?"

"Mhmm," Omega spoke as Y/n washed her hands, making Omega a small bag.

Turning the water off she handed Omega a towel.

"I stopped bleeding," Omega spoke.

"For now, " y/n responded Omega stepping out in a towel.

"For now?" Omega questioned.

"Here."

Y/n kneeled down holding a colorfully wrapped item.

"This is a pad, it'll help with your period, you have to change it every so often," Y/n responded.

"I have to wear this?"

"I mean don't have to. But... it's highly recommended, you know blood everywhere...." Y/n told her.

"Oh... how?" Omega questioned.

"Well... it'll absorb your blood. It's the reason you have to change it every so often. It goes in your...uh underwear."

Y/n had to admit she had never explained a period to another person, not another man or woman. And none the less a child.

"O-okay."

"I'll turn around so I'll be here if you need help but you'll still have privacy"

Omega nodded as Y/n stood up turning her head into the corner as Omega took her time trying to figure it out, but eventually did.

"I-its weird..." she spoke pulling up her pants, "you can turn around."

Y/n turned back around as Omega wore a T-shirt, pulling her other shirt over.

"You'll get used to it. But keep this."

She handed Omega a bag, "why?"

"It has extra. Just in case."

Omega nodded, "thank you..."

Y/n nodded, "When we all wake up and are on the move me and you can talk."

Omega hugged her as Y/n patted her head, "go back to bed now. But wake me up if you need help."

Omega nodded as she went back to bed, Y/n putting Omega's wet clothes in a plastic bag she had, she'd have to wash them next time they'd stop.

Washing her hands thoroughly she went back to bed, sliding in next to Tech who draped his arm around her and went back to sleep.

In the morning, she was woken by Tech climbing over her.

"Sorry." He apologized.

"It's okay..." she spoke letting him get out of the bunk and her following.

"Hunter's been asking for you as well. I did explain to him you need your sleep. But it seems Im the hypocrite in this situation."

"Tech. It's fine really, where's Hunter?"

"Everyone except Omega and myself in the cockpit."

Y/n nodded as she got up, following Tech in, they all had just woken up caf in their hands.

"What's the problem?" Y/n questioned Wrecker handing her a cup, "thanks."

"It's Omega. She won't come out her bunk." Hunter spoke.

"Okay?" Y/n questioned, "and?"

"And?! And?! We've tried getting her out but she says she really tired, and then says her stomach hurts- She won't let Tech in to see her! And Im worried she's sick!-"

Y/n watched bluntly as the others sipped their caff along with her.

"You seem to not care!" Hunter argued.

"Okay." Y/n responded, "she's a young person with a whole bunch of older people, What do you expect? She wants her own time."

"Why is she in pain?"

"Because she's growing," Y/n spoke.

"Growing?" Hunter spoke, "It shouldn't be painful to grow!"

"Well growing pains are common amongst the clones." Tech responded, "then again Omega does not have accelerated growth."

"Right so it means her pains gonna last a lot longer than yours." Y/n told them, "you know, she going through things, she gonna get these two monstrosities called breast, and she gonna be able to have a baby-"

"She's a baby herself she doesn't need to be having kids-" Hunter spoke.

"Well, that's what a period does. It basically helps your fertility, and cycles out all the old stuff. It comes in the form of-"

She looked at the men who held confused faces.

"What?" She questioned.

"We have no idea what you just told us," Hunter spoke.

"Wha-" Y/n spoke as she looked at Tech, "Tech?! Not you too-"

"Uh... breasts are nice? I don't think they're any help, they've saved you once or twice."

"How?"

"That commando droid couldn't stab you hard enough between your armor and your breast. You were saved." Tech spoke.

"I remember that! Tech's got a point!" Wrecker cheered, "so Omega will get extra protection! That's a win!"

"Yeah but some people like to stare," Echo spoke, "like that one time at 79s. Remember when that guy said Y/n had implants."

"Oh. I never understood why that argument happened" Wrecker spoke, "But it ended in a fight! And Y/n kicked his ass!"

"You can't always look at the bright side." Echo defended.

"Well, why not!" Wrecker argued.

"Because what benefits you could hurt someone else. And sometimes there's just not a good side to look at." Echo told, "it's common sense."

"See Echo gets it," Y/n responded sipping her drink.

"Okay! So what do we do!?" Hunter questioned.

"She'll be fine in a week-"

"A WEEK!? What are we gonna do!?" Hunter argued.

Y/n shrugged, "He's overreacting."

"he tends to do that occasionally," Tech told sipping his caff.

That's when Omega came out of her room, Hunter froze and going to kneel down to hug her but she rushed to hide behind Y/n.

"ooo ouch..." Wrecker spoke.

"c-can we go? now?" Omega questioned as Y/n nodded, "Okay me and Omega are leaving, bye."

"what-" Hunter watched Y/n grab her back and leave, "I-"

The two walked out the hanger and out of sight.

"M-My baby..." Hunter cried dramatically.

"Dude needs a hobby," Echo spoke.

"Agreed," Tech spoke.

"You make a good point." Wrecker agreed

[starlightsearches]

can we perhaps get a lil fic where the reader used to be a first order medic who crushed on Hux and used to treat Hux’s injuries when he was thrown around, but has now defected to the resistance. Hux survives TROS with injuries from, well, everything that happened, and is rescued by the resistance and taken to the reader (now the resistance medic) to be cared for. Cue them remembering eachother, and perhaps lots of touch starved hux who isn’t used to being looked after, and the two finally admit their feelings for eachother?? Sorry if this is so long and confusing, you can change or shorten any bits you don’t like or understand 😅💕

Hello friend! Thanks for the request. I’m sorry it took me a thousand years to write it; I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I hope you like it!!

Requests are open ✨

Armitage Hux x Resistance Medic! Reader (GN)

Warnings: Language, an injury, angst and some medical care! (and non-canon compliance if anyone cares about that)

It’s the middle of the night cycle when Poe’s voice crackles through the speaker on your comm link, calling for you. Lurching from your doze, you search for it with both hands, brushing through the piles of records and empty caff cups before you spot the little cylinder.

“I’m here,” you hold the comm close to your mouth, using your other hand to gather up needed supplies, shoving them in your medkit haphazardly. Poe never commed you before a landing—not unless things were bad. You push the panic away, steeling yourself for the worst case scenario. It wouldn’t be the first time you had held a friend’s life in your hands, but it never got easier; you just got stronger. You could be stronger now. “What do you need?”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing too bad this time,” he clarifies, and you let out a shaky breath, offering your thanks to the universe, “we picked up a, uh, new recruit. He’s pretty banged up, having some trouble walking. I know you can get him feeling better; can you meet us at the landing pad?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you shove the comm in your pocket, brushing a hand over your hair. There’s a soft hint of disquiet resting on your shoulders, a crawling over your skin. Poe wasn’t usually this cryptic. Something big must have happened.

You decide to leave your medkit—since the mystery patient’s injuries don’t sound too serious — walking swiftly through the sleeping base. Your footsteps echo quietly against the stone walls until the sound is swallowed by the night melody of Ajan Kloss. The warm humidity kisses your cheeks when you step out into the open, a gentle breeze pushing it away before it can linger.

The landing pad is dormant, rows and rows of sleeping x-wings keeping you company as you watch for any sign of the Falcon, and soon enough you spot it, tracing its path through the night sky.

You spy Poe's boots at the mouth of the hatch as soon as it opens—Rey must have been piloting, which meant Finn would be in the cockpit with her. Strange. Poe doesn’t usually give up control of the pilot’s seat so easily. A shiver travels up your spine despite the warm night air.

"Hey, sweetheart, can you give us a hand?" he calls out to you, and you're about to tear into him for being so fucking cryptic, stomping up the loading dock. That's when you notice the shiny pair of boots near Poe's, blacker than the night around you.

You can't move anymore, frozen mid-step half-way up the ramp, heartbeat pounding like a warning siren as your eyes trace up the boots, the battered, black uniform and you don’t need to see his face to know that you're not dreaming this time. It’s him.

You keep your eyes on Poe—only on Poe—and your distress must show in your features because the look he gives you in return is full of concern.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?"

You glare at him. "What the hell is this?"

It has to be a joke. Poe is trying to be funny, calling him a recruit instead of a prisoner—but the general isn't handcuffed. He has an arm slung over Poe's shoulder, leaning heavily against the pilot. There’s a tear in his pant leg, white skin stained red with dripping blood, the wound sore and angry. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the purpling bruises along his cheeks. It’s sad how familiar he seems when he’s broken, more recognizable to you now than he ever was in any holovid.

“See, Hugs, I told you,” Poe clears his throat, voice light with humor but he watches you carefully, a warning in his eyes. You can see enough of the general to know he’s not looking at you, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance, his jaw set.

You cross your arms over your chest, letting your expression settle into a scowl. “Told him what?”

“That you hadn’t forgotten him.”

Damn him. He had asked about you? Your heart softens in spite of yourself, and you turn automatically to Hux, the last shreds of your anger falling from your chest. He still won’t meet your eyes, shoulders slumped, his breathing a little labored and you’re sure it’s not just from the pain.

How many times had you been with him, just like this? Hidden together in forgotten corridors or tucked away in his quarters, the threat of his father looming over you while bandaging wounds and feeling for breaks and ignoring the way his chest heaved underneath your fingers. There was no word for that kind of despair, seeing someone you loved so quietly and so desperately wrecked so completely. It snakes under your skin again, finding it’s old favorite cracks left unhealed; if you’re not careful, it will swallow you whole.

There’s only one thing to do in a situation like this: fix what you can.

You shift your weight from foot to foot before heaving a sigh, “fine, let’s go.”

“Yes! You’re the best; I owe you one, sweetheart, really—” he’s already moving out of the general’s grip, waiting for you to take his place and you look at him in alarm, stepping back.

“Wait,” your adrenaline spikes, and you have to force yourself to take a breath, “you’re not coming with us?“

He shakes his head, “Rey, Finn and I have some, uh, unfinished business. We only stopped by to drop him off.”

Well shit—you take a few steadying breaths, hoping your anxiety doesn’t show too plainly on your face. You hadn’t thought you’d be alone with him so soon. You don’t want to think about why that makes a difference to you.

“Oh, okay.” You nod, force an unconvincing smile to save face. Poe wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important. He furrows his brow—not yet convinced.

“You’re gonna be alright?”

“Yeah . . . yeah. I’ll—we’ll—be fine.” Your smile tightens at the corners but still doesn’t reach your eyes, and he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before walking past you to the cock pit.

And now you’re left alone.

“Let’s go,” you slide into place under his arm where he’s propped himself up against the wall, gripping him tightly around his waist, fingers holding him steady at the ribs.

He flinches, pulling away slightly, and you loosen your grip.

“Did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head, eyes examining his reflection in his boots, and you place your hand with a little more care, hoping he can’t feel the way your heartbeat echoes through your body.

It’s been too long since you’ve last touched him; it still makes your heart race.

The trip back to the medbay is slow and arduous. It’s not just the gash in his leg that’s impairing his movement—his ankle is very clearly broken, based on the way he winces whenever it makes even the slightest contact with the ground.

He’s certainly not heavy, by any means, but supporting his weight gets more difficult with each step, and you’d rather not see him sustain any more injuries if your grip on him doesn’t hold.

“We can rest here for a moment.” You stop near a pile of rocks by the entrance to the base, lowering him down into a sitting position before finally taking the chance to catch your breath.

It's a dead night, a still one. Any breeze you'd felt earlier had faded long ago, and the air sits heavy on your skin and heavier in your lungs.

The general doesn't seem to mind, taking long deep breaths. If it weren't for his furrowed brow, you might believe he was asleep.

“How did you know I’d be here,” you whisper, and when he looks at you, there's hurt in his eyes.

“The Order always keeps track of their defectors—especially when they run away to join the Resistance.” His tone is bitter and biting, and it hurts you more than you like.

“I didn’t run away to join the Resistance," you respond, trying to tamp down a sneer, angry at yourself. For letting him get to you so easily, for caring so much about what he thinks.

For missing him every day since the last.

Still, it was true, what you said. When you left, you only wanted to get away from the Order—it didn’t matter where.

The Resistance was the only place you were welcomed.

You had wanted it to feel like home, and parts of it did—eating late dinners with Poe in his quarters, watching over your patients, celebrating with the rest of them after every success, the same belief that they had for the cause beginning to burn in your chest.

But something was missing, in every one of those moments. And now that he's here, you wonder if the space you'd left empty for him is too large to be filled.

"Did you—" he shifts, groans, and your veins flood with anticipation, hanging on to some foolish idea of what he might say next, "did you ever . . . think of me?"

He looks at you with half-lidded eyes, surprisingly earnest; the pain must have gone to his head.

"We should get you to the medbay," you move again, no longer comfortable with staying still, "I'll go find you something to lean on while you walk, I'll be right back—"

His fingers wrap firmly around your wrist, pulling you back with surprising determination.

"I thought of you," he says, and you're looking in his eyes, so dark they're almost black in the low light, "every cycle since the last, and every cycle before that."

Your breathing grows shallow as he fits his hand against your waist, without pulling you closer or pushing you away.

"If you want me to leave, after . . . when it's all over, I'll do it. But I—"

He jumps when you press your lips to his, shaking like he's scared, but he leans into you as best he can.

"Neither of us are leaving again," you demand, and you think you might feel the ghost of a smile against your jaw, feel the slight grip of his fingers at your waist, "not if I can help it."

Hux Tag List: @catboykenobii, @thembohux, @missmadwoman, @evarinaandlat, @sitherin-mxschief, @imafatassmess, @toasterking, @rosevon7975, @pradahux, @armitages-galaxy, @dark-lord-of-the-simps, @daughterofaries, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @aramanna, @theold-ultraviolence, @mrs-ghuleh, @lemongingerart, @isthisheaven5, @trash-queen-af, @generalthirst, @tobealostwanderer, @huxxoxo, @theoriginalannoyingbird

Join my tag list here!

[blueskyhappyclones]

Head on my shoulder

Summary: Howzer invites you to the Republic’s grand ball, but things don’t go as planned.

Warnings: None :)

Pairing: Howzer x female reader

A/n: This is the first time I have written a fic! So enjoy and let me know what you think.

You sat on the sofa in your hotel room excitedly waiting for Howzer. He had asked you to be his date to the Republic’s grand ball in coruscant.

You had worked as an admin assistant for Howzer’s battalion for the last six months, and you couldn’t help but notice how sweet he is to his men and how he takes an interest in everyone that he meets. He made such an effort with you when you first started the job, he asked how your day was and how you were finding your new job. He even brought you a caff to your office one morning, so the next day you brought him one back and it stated a routine everyday Howzer was on planet. The more time you spent with him the more you started to notice even more little things about him like how when he is working hard a strand of his hair would come unstuck and fall into his face, and that he would rub his scar when he was thinking really hard about something.

His men had even started to take notice of how much he dropped by your office to see you, and made jokes calling you the Mrs, and insisted to Howzer that he bring you to the clone bars with them on their nights out. You loved that his men were so welcoming to you and it was fun to see Howzer kick back a bit, while his men told you stories about their captain on missions they had been on. They would tell the story about Howzer single-handedly fought a gundark and ended up with his scar, you had heard this story so many times as they loved to tell anyone that would listen.

The more time you spent with him the more feelings you developed for him, and you just weren’t sure if he felt the same way about you, until you heard a knock at your door one night.

It was late and you had just got into your pyjamas to get ready for bed when you heard the knock at the door.

“One second!” you shouted grabbing a dressing gown.

You looked through the peep hole and saw Howzer stood there, your heart did a flip. Why could he be at your apartment this late you thought. You unhooked the latch and opened the door.

“Howzer! Come in, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry it’s so late, I wanted to drop by on the way back from work but I had to stay late. I just had something I wanted to ask you.”

“Go ahead! Shoot” you smiled nervously.

“Y/N I wanted to know if you would come to the Republics grand ball with me?” he asked cautiously nervous that you would say no.

“ Like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date. Its ok if you don’t –“

“I would love to” You interrupted grinning widely.

So there you were in coruscant dressed to the nines in a blue floor length ball gown waiting for Howzer. He had commed you to say he was held up at work and would be a little bit late, but that was two hours ago. You started to worry that he got cold feet and didn’t want to go on the date with you anymore or he had been injured at work. You lay down on the sofa and look at the ceiling and think about what could of happened to him. It’s Howzer you reassure yourself hes perfectly capable of looking after himself, everything is fine and he will be here soon. He still wants to go out with you. Eventually your eyes begin to close and you drift off to sleep.

You wake up to Howzer shaking you gently. “Y/N. Y/N. Wake up.” He whispered.

“Hmmm” you moan groggily opening your eyes. “Oh Howzer. You’re here.” You yawn.

“I’m so sorry. I got called into work last minute. It was an emergency. I’m so so sorry”

You notice burn marks on his armour that weren’t there when he left earlier, and ash on his forehead.

“Are you ok? Is everyone ok?” you ask.

“Yes, everyone is fine. There was a fire in one of the warehouses but nobody got hurt. I guess we missed the ball. I’m so sorry” he apologized again.

“Howzer, it’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re ok!”

“I was really looking forward to the ball, and dancing with you in your beautiful dress” He said his warm breath fanning your face, your breath hitches when you notice how close you are.

“I’m sure we can next time” You say gingerly reaching up to wipe some ash from his face.

“we could now” He says putting his large hand over yours, his skin hot yours.

“Now?”

He lets go and turns to find your holopad on the table, and with a few clicks he plays a slow song. He reaches out his hand to you and helps you up pulling you close to his chest. Your head rests on the breast plate of his armour as you sway together, his hands resting on your waist whilst yours are around his neck. You look up at him into his dark eyes.

“Hey Howzer?”

“Yeah?”

“This is really nice.”

He looks down at your lips and back up at you and slowly moves in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

[glimmerglanger]

getting up (while you’re down)

So, ah, I was inspired to write some goofy getting-together Codywan. Set during the war. Full of misadventures surrounding Obi-Wan’s clothing (or the removal of it, anyway). Dedicated to @mocha-bear, as an apology aha :D. Ended up NOT actually having any spiciness, just a fade to black because that felt fitting with the tone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The galaxy was punishing Cody.

He didn’t know what he’d done, but, then again, in his experience the galaxy didn’t need a reason to exact punishment on someone. Things just happened, and then people had to deal with them.

Currently, he was having to deal with the fact that Obi-Wan had decided to wear his kriffing meditation leggings onto the bridge. He’d said something about Grievous ruining his last pair of slacks but, honestly, Cody hadn’t been listening.

His boots didn’t look quite right over the leggings, but, to be fair, Cody wasn’t really paying much attention to the boots, either. He’d caught looks at Obi-Wan’s legs before, obviously, glimpses when his trousers tore. And he’d gotten used to seeing those legs wrapped up in leggings, when Obi-Wan meditated and sometimes when he sparred.

But Cody had learned how to brace for those times.

He wasn’t prepared to have to focus on the Senate’s new orders while Obi-Wan was standing right there in leggings. 

It was making it hard to concentrate. He knew Obi-Wan had been forced to repeat a question twice, because focusing on answering him meant focusing on the state of his dress and that meant focusing on strong thighs and--

“Commander?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning over at him, head cocking to the side. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes,” Cody lied, because he felt entirely too itchy under his skin and, also, he wasn’t just wearing leggings. The Kaminoans hadn’t been exactly generous with space, when designing their armor. Things were starting to get uncomfortably snug. They’d pinch, if his condition continued to...progress.

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked, and that was when Tektek came into the room carrying caff for everyone, did a double-take in Obi-Wan’s direction, and the universe decided to punish Cody a little bit more.

#

“I’m really sorry, General,” Tektek said, after he tripped on nothing and spilled caff all down Obi-Wan’s back. “Just--I don’t know what happened.” Cody had a pretty good idea what had happened. He’d been in prime position to see Tektek’s head dip down as he took a good look. 

“It’s quite alright,” Obi-Wan said, for the second time, as though he hadn’t just had scalding hot liquid poured down his back. “These things happen,” he added, which was fine and true, except these things happening had him peeling off his outer tunic and grumbling, “Oh, it went all the way through. Would you hold this?”

Cody took his tunic automatically, consumed with the awareness that his General was, in fact, taking his clothes off on the bridge. Which was not… entirely without precedent. The Jedi, for the most part, didn’t seem to have many qualms about nudity or their bodies.

Which was perfectly alright, of course, except that it meant Cody had missed another question, because he’d been busy watching Obi-Wan pull at his thinner undertunic, twisting to look at his back. “What?” Cody asked, feeling like he’d perhaps taken a stunner to the back of the head.

“I said,” Obi-Wan said, looking back at him and arching an eyebrow, “do you think you can finish this up while I go and change?”

“Of course.” Cody wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing to handle. His gut said he ought to be handling Obi-Wan, standing there with his thin tunic half-plastered to him, and his leggings and--

“Thank you, Commander,” Obi-Wan said, turning to go, and oh, the caff really had gone all the way through, painting the undertunic to his back, the dip of his spine and the generous, lovely swell of--

Crys walked into a console on the other side of the bridge, swore, and made a pained sound. “Everything alright?” Obi-Wan asked, hesitating, just standing there, and Cody really, truly needed to get his eye-line anywhere other than where it was, but, well.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t know about Obi-Wan’s….physical attributes. It was just that most of the time they were covered up with layers upon layers. There was a physical barrier there to remind him that the things he thought about in his quarters weren’t really...well. Appropriate.

His General had a dimple, apparently, right on the side of his--

“Fine, sir,” Crys wheezed out, waving a hand a little. “Don’t know what came over me.”

“I could help you down to the medbay,” Obi-Wan said, changing directions, concern written all over his expression. “We could have Bones take a look at you.”

“Not necessary,” Crys said, sounding agonized. Cody could imagine why. He wouldn’t want Bones assessing his current condition, either.

“If you’re sure,” Obi-Wan said, with another little frown, and Cody got a clear look at him from the front, and Prime’s wrinkled ass, but that was really no better, no better at all, but at least he was leaving to put some clothes on. 

And that was when the galaxy decided to kick Cody when he was down.

Proximity alarms started going off and Crys yelled, voice getting sharper, “It’s seppies, sir! I don’t know where they came from, but--” The first explosions started, right around then.

#

By the end of the fight, some hours later, Obi-Wan had lost the undertunic. Cody didn’t know where it had gone. All he really knew, lowering his blaster as the last droid fell in a crumbled heap, was that the thin shirt Obi-Wan wore beneath the tunics was barely staying on.

One shoulder had torn when a droid tried to grapple him. It was sort of hanging off of his side, dipping open a little more each time he moved and--

Cody holstered his blaster, firmly, and did his best to holster the thoughts in his head. It didn’t help that the fight had left his blood singing, thrumming along in his veins. It didn’t help that Obi-Wan’s chest was sheened with sweat, or that he was barely breathing hard, or that Cody could see, when he leaned forward, the shift of muscle all down his back.

“--alright?” Obi-Wan asked, nudging him in the shoulder, strands of hair sticking to his face, his cheeks just a little flushed.

Cody managed not to make an incriminating sound by biting his tongue. He nodded, instead of talking, because this was, truly, uncomfortably close to some of the made-up scenarios he indulged in on particularly flustered nights.

He’d been trained to consider all possibilities. To let scenarios play out, to run through them, but he was fairly sure the Kaminoans hadn’t intended him to consider how he might go about pushing his General against a bulkhead after a fight. 

He had anyway.

“Did you get hit?” Obi-Wan asked, the wolfish grin he’d worn at the end of the fight falling away. He stepped a little closer, tugging at Cody’s armor which...did not help matters at all. 

“No,” Cody said, and cleared his throat, because there were freckles, apparently, out on the curve of Obi-Wan’s shoulder and he didn’t need to know that any more than he needed to know about the dimple on his-- “I’m fine, sir.”

Obi-Wan frowned at him. “You don’t seem fine. In fact, you haven’t seemed fine all day. What’s--kriffing hell,” he snapped the last, looking upwards as the universe drew back its foot to nail Cody again, likely directly in the kriffing balls, and the emergency fire suppressant system kicked on above them.

#

“Well, this has been an adventure,” Obi-Wan said, after someone, somewhere finally got the sprinklers to turn off. He was soaked to the skin, undershirt clinging to his skin, gone sheer from the water. 

Cody grunted a reply. It seemed all he could manage, trying desperately not to watch a droplet of water drip off the end of a strand of Obi-Wan’s hair, hit his shoulder, and roll down over his collarbone. Cody felt, abruptly, parched, mouth gone dry and it would be very easy to lean forward and lick that droplet up, but--

It would also be very easy for Obi-Wan to kick him off the Negotiator, afterwards. Still, he considered, gaze slipping helpless downwards, it might be worth it.

“This is ridiculous,” Obi-Wan said, sighing, walking down the hall a step ahead of him. “This entire day has been one misfire after another.” He turned into a room, reaching a hand back and grabbing the collar of what was left of his shirt as he did, pulling it over his head.

And, really, the water had spread the fabric over him like a second skin. It wasn’t like, a moment ago, Cody had been unable to see the line of his spine, the shift and movement of his shoulderblades. But watching him take his clothes off, the reveal of creamy skin, muscle, and darker scars set like little accents, here and there--

Well.

Cody made to follow - he wasn’t sure where they were going, he was just following along - and misjudged the location of the door frame because he wasn’t looking at it, because something had torn the waistband of Obi-Wan’s leggings, and, apparently, the only thing keeping them up was the water or possibly how lovingly tight there were. He walked fully into the frame, cursing at the sudden and unexpected pain across his forehead and cheek.

“Cody?” Obi-Wan asked, turning back and swearing while Cody brought a hand up. “Are you alright?” Obi-Wan demanded, stepping closer before Cody could reassure him that, yes, he was fine.

The words strangled off when Obi-Wan shifted into his space, frowning, reaching up to bat Cody’s hand out of the way. “What happened?” he asked, adding, “Well, you’re bleeding. Here.” And he pressed the tattered remains of his shirt against Cody’s forehead. “Hold this.”

“I’m fine,” Cody managed to say, belatedly, hoping that no one ever heard that he walked into a door hard enough to split the skin because he’d been too distracted by the way his General’s ass looked - firm, dimpled, and oh, it was so easy to imagine gripping - in some leggings. 

Obi-Wan met his gaze, an eyebrow arched, and said, “Obviously not. Come in, I think I’ve still got some bacta in here.”

Which was how Cody found himself standing in Obi-Wan’s quarters, holding Obi-Wan’s shirt against his forehead. Obi-Wan moved over to the little kitchenette, stretching up on his toes to open a cabinet and, well, on the plus side, Cody didn’t really feel the pain in his head.

On the negative side, he didn’t feel it because he was busy trailing his gaze from the line of Obi-Wan’s arm, down his back, to that dimple that he desperately wanted to sweep his thumb over, or, hell, his tongue, and--

“--listening to me? Oh,” Obi-Wan was, apparently, saying. Cody jerked his gaze up, in time to realize that the universe had delivered a parting blow to his ribs. Obi-Wan had looked over his shoulder and was, at that moment, staring back at him, expression unreadable. After a beat, his eyes narrowed and he said, “Wait, all day, have you been--”

“It’s the pants,” Cody cut in, the words springing onto his tongue quite without his permission.

Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side, turning, still watching him with that sharp, weighing expression in his eyes, though his mouth had started twitching up in the corners. “There’s something wrong with my pants?” he asked.

“No,” Cody said, because, really, there was nothing at all wrong with them, he loved those pants. “Yes,” he corrected himself, because, Force, maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought. Or maybe the problem was that none of the blood in his body had been making it all the way to his brain for most of the day. “I mean--” He shut his mouth, it seemed the safest way forward.

Obi-Wan mouth curved, just a little. He leaned back against the counter and said, airily, “Oh, well, if they’re a problem, I suppose I could take them off.”

Cody’s gut jerked as he stared across at Obi-Wan, his breath caught and held in the back of his throat, because--

Obi-Wan said, easy, “You could help.”

And Cody decided, abruptly, that mayde the universe wasn’t punishing him at all.

[snippy-tano]

Can I request for Wolffe, in which the reader comforts Wolffe after he gets his cybernetic eye?

Y’all are really coming for me in terms of sappy requests but I am here for them. Thank you for this really adorable request. Wolffe deserves all the comfort in the galaxy. And I am more than happy to write about it and give it to him. He deserves it.

----------------------------------------

Scars

From the moment you’d heard that Wolffe had been injured, you’d hardly slept. 

You spent most of your time refreshing your comm messages, hoping some scrap of news would appear telling you that he was okay. All you’d heard was he’d been injured by Ventress and that was enough to plague your nightmares for days. 

You knew about her reputation. You knew what happened to clones who went up against her.

It made you sick with worry. 

And no one was telling you anything. 

No matter who you tried to reach out to, you already got the same response.

[“I’m sorry but you’re not authorized to receive that information.”]

You nearly threw the comm unit the first time you’d been told that. And every time after that.

All you wanted was some news. But no one was telling you anything and you were ready to break into the facility he was being treated in. Regulations be damned.

You’d always been close with Wolffe. You joined the 104th not long after the incident with the Malevolence. Wolffe had been struggling after that and you’d done your best to help him. It wasn’t easy, especially not at first. He wasn’t as welcoming as you had expected and most of your early attempts at comfort or friendship were very promptly shut down. 

But after a while, you started to notice that he didn’t actively avoid you in the hallways. He’d show up at the end of your shift claiming coincidence (it never was) and he would walk you back to your quarters. You found yourself enjoying every moment you got to spend with him.

He was still a bit tense and rigid, but you could see the cracks in his grumpy exterior growing with every visit with you.

It wasn’t until you’d heard about his run-in with Ventress that you realized the blooming feelings in your chest were more than just friendship. At the thought of him gone, you realized how much you loved him.

And now you worried you’d never get the chance to tell him.

Until you heard he was back.

You overheard a few troopers talking in the mess about how the Commander was back. You swear your heart nearly gave out. You really couldn’t stop yourself from running up to the troopers and asking them to tell you everything they knew.

Apparently he’d just gotten back and had been cleared for duty. But the biggest shock of all had been that in his fight with Ventress he’d lost one of his eyes, it having been replaced by a cybernetic one. 

Your heart broke. You had no doubt that Wolffe hated it and would be ashamed of it. It didn’t matter to you, it never would, but you worried he might think it would bother you. 

But you could never find him.

You spent the rest of the day trying to find him aboard the flagship. He always seemed to disappear just before you arrived somewhere. Once you were pretty sure you caught a glimpse of him, but he vanished before you could call his name.

It became clear pretty quickly that he was actively avoiding you.

A few of the troopers had noticed and said they’d tell him you were looking for him, which you appreciated. But you didn’t think it would make much of a difference.

So you shuffled back off to get some work done. 

He’d come to you when he was ready.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

You were in your small closet of an office, working on some reports that General Plo had asked for. A cold cup of caff sat beside you and your eyes burned from lack of sleep. You’d long since given up on keeping your uniform regulation and instead opted for comfort, undoing the first few buttons of your top and letting your hair fall out of your bun. It wasn’t what an officer should look like, but you were too tired and heartbroken to really care.

It was ridiculously late when you heard a soft knock on your door. 

You looked up, blearily glancing at the time. “Come in.” Your voice was raspy, but you didn’t care. 

Your attention shifted back down to your data-pad. The door slid open. You figured it had to be the General, coming to get your reports. “I’ve almost got all of the reports done General. I’ll get them to you within the hour.”

But instead of General Plo, another voice responded.

“I’ll make sure to let him know.” 

You froze, your hands poised over your data-pad. Your heart pounded in your chest as you forced your eyes up. 

Wolffe was standing in your doorway, his bucket tucked under his arm. He looked the same. Standing tall and proud like he always did.

Your eyes swept over his face and fixed on his right eye that was now a milky-white color with a scar stretching over it. You felt your chin start to wobble.

Before you could stop yourself, you were pushing back out of your chair and rushing around your desk. Wolffe’s bucket hit the floor and you were in his arms seconds later. 

You’d never hugged him before.

He was always a little uneasy in that department, all the clones were really. But you’d dreamed about the first time you’d get the chance to hold him. And now you were.

And it was perfect.

Your breath hiccupped in your chest as tears freely flowed down your face. You clawed at the back of his armor and head as you pulled yourself as close to him as you could get. Your feet weren’t even on the ground anymore. Wolffe had at least not rejected your hug because his arms were wrapped tightly around you, like he was also afraid you’d disappear if he let go. 

It was heaven.

“I was so worried, Wolffe. No one would tell me anything no matter how many times I asked. I didn’t know what happened or where you were or if you’d even pull through. Don’t ever do that to me again.” You were rambling now, all your fears from the last few weeks tumbling out before you could stop them. 

You felt one of Wolffe’s gloved hands weave into your knotted hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

You buried your face in his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re here now and I’m never, ever letting go again.”

He tensed beneath you. “(Y/N). There’s something you need to know.”

You squeezed your eyes closed. “Wolffe, I know. A few of the troopers told me about what happened to your eye and I don’t care. I love you and that will never change, scar or not.”

You felt his breath hitch in his chest and you squeezed him before pulling back. Your feet landed on the floor. Wolffe’s head was bowed, turned away from you. His hands were fisted in your uniform, but it was clear he didn’t want you to see. 

You slid your hands from his neck to gently hold the sides of his face. The scar that now stretched across his face was more prominent now that you were closer, but you still didn’t care. Wolffe was still Wolffe. A scar didn’t change that. 

You brushed your thumb across his scar and he inhaled sharply. You were pretty sure no one had touched it so gently since he got it. Without thinking, you gently pulled his head towards you, pressing your lips to the edge of his scar on his cheekbone. 

Wolffe was trembling under your fingertips. You kissed over his eye. 

“You’re still you, scar or not. And I love you Wolffe. That’ll never change.”

You were fully prepared for him to walk away. You’d never talked about your feelings or his. It was something you could feel brewing for months, but you were too afraid to say something. 

But now it didn’t matter. You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t tell him. No matter what he said in return. You had to tell him. His injury reminded you of how easily you both could be killed fighting in this war. You were done waiting. 

“But-” Wolffe’s voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before and it shook. His eyes were still squeezed shut and your heart was breaking for him. “-why me.”

A soft smile spread across your face as you brushed your thumb against his cheekbone. “Because you’re you. And to me you’re one of a kind.”

He took a shaky breath before slowly opening his eyes. You met his gaze and refused to look away. 

“I’ll always be here for you. No matter what Wolffe.” 

Wolffe’s eyes scanned your face. You knew it would be a while before he fully accepted what had happened to him, but you weren’t giving up on him. And besides, you still thought he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen before.

“Can - can I kiss you?” Wolffe asked, voice small.

Your chest warmed as you smiled at him. You leaned forward and pressed another kiss to his scarred cheek. 

“I’d like nothing more.”

Wolffe didn’t hesitate. And he never did ever again. Never with you.

[kaijusplotch]

Hunter is Not Ready for Omega to go Through Puberty

Debating on if i should publish this to AO3 or not? Either way, have Hunter having small crisises of the heart when Omega reaches puberty. Everyone discovering something about Crosshair. And generally the Bad Batch having DAD feels.

Hunter was worried. Omega had been miserable with stomach pain since early that morning; practically living in the fresher. He looked through every medical pack they had but Tech had said they were portioned out for adult clones and their strength could hurt more than help.

So, Hunter got hot packs ready and dimmed the lights of the bunk room. It hurt him just as much to know that he couldn’t help her more than just to be there for her until they could get some more appropriate medicine.

“Hunter…?”

He looked up from where he was trying to look up how to treat stomach pain and his heart dropped. “Omega? what’s wrong?”

“I’m bleeding...down there.” Omega’s face was beet red and there were tears in her eyes as she stood awkwardly near the door of the fresher.

Hunter’s mind went to static. What did that mean? Was she hurt? Had she gotten hurt and he didn’t notice? His heart started to race and he got up and walked over to her.

Omega had gotten taller, her clothes from Kamino no longer fitting properly. Tech’s spare blacks were at least somewhat useful but still too big in some places even being the shortest of the Batch. She was growing fast, like all clones, but differently too. Her hips were wider for sure, but it could just be because of the mutations.

“Are you hurt? I...I don’t understand,” Hunter said, hands on her shoulders as he tried to hide his fear from his voice and face.

“Um…” She whimpered and looked away biting her lip. “I ah...I’m not hurt, my stomach hurts but I’m bleeding. Not a lot, but I don’t know either.”

“What’s going on?” Crosshair asked, walking in with Tech behind.

Omega blushed and looked away, fidgeting with the oversized top of her blacks. “m’bleeding….”

“She says she isn’t hurt, but the stomach pains are still there.” Hunter explained turning to Tech.

“She is nearing seven, she’d be going through one of her first large growth spurts. Perhaps a hormonal issue?” Tech asked, grabbing his datapad.

Hunter nodded, looking up as Crosshair patted his shoulder.

“I’ll take care of this,” Crosshair said with a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth; his version of a smile. “C’mon kid, let’s go to the fresher.”

“Ah! Found something, Sargeant,” Tech interrupted, dragging Hunter’s attention back.

“What is it? What can we do?”

“She’s going through puberty, as expected. Except...it’s different for females…” Tech looked a little pale as he read his datapad. “They have...ah...oh. Menstrual cycles begin during this time which can cause them to shed the lining of their internal reproductive organs.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide. “What? Is it dangerous?!” Hunter grabbed at the pad, although Tech snatched it back.

“No, at least it shouldn’t be. It happens monthly, along with mood changes, stomach cramps and some skin issues. Well at least that’s the same as it was for us,” Tech muttered. “She will need supplies but…I’m not sure how best to handle this, Hunter.”

Hunter rubbed his face and swallowed. “I’ll try to contact Rex. Ashoka was a teenager with him during the war, he’s got to have some kind of advice.” The door to the fresher opened and Hunter turned around, watching as Crosshair had Omega tucked up into his side. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take her into town.” Crosshair tossed Omega a poncho and put on a jacket and hat for himself.

“Are you sure? We haven’t completely figured out what-”

“I’ll handle it, Tech,” Crosshair hissed with a significant look. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Hunter furrowed his brows, but Omega was leaning into Crosshair with a smile. It would be good to let Crosshair have some time with Omega and vice-versa. “Be careful. Have your comms open.” he advised.

“Yes DAD,” Omega sighed, rolling her eyes with a smile as Crosshair chuckled softly.

The door closed behind them and Hunter groaned. “I think my heart stopped.” He leaned against the wall.

“Your fine. Just like every other time she’s called you a variation of ‘father’.” Tech pushed his goggles back up on his nose. “I’ll see about trying to find a secure line to Rex.”

“See if we have any contacts to Cut too. Maybe Suu can help explain things?” Hunter suggested looking at Tech, lost and worried. His mind was still racing on how to help look after his ad. No he was not ever admitting that to any of his brothers that he subconsciously called Omega his ad.

“I’ll get right on it. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he reassured as he walked back toward the cockpit.

Hunter spent the entire time waiting for Crosshair and Omega to return trying to get in contact with Rex or Cody. He chewed his lip as he was met again with nothing on the comms.

Echo walked in and sighed. “I’ve been trying to hunt down Cut and Suu but I can’t get any trace on the shuttle they took. Sorry, Hunter.”

“No, no it’s not your fault.” Hunter frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I should have asked them more before we left.” He scrubbed uselessly at his face and snarled. “I’m supposed to look out for her and I don’t know how to help her!”

“Hey, none of that.” Echo’s voice was firm and Hunter was a little surprised. His newest brother was rather quiet but apparently when he had something to say he would say it. “You’re doing everything you can. We all are. Omega will be okay, plenty of girls go through the same thing. We’ll adapt.”

Hunter smiled a bit. “Just like Saw said. It’s what we do best. Still want to help her feel better.” He glanced at Echo who smiled in return.

“You sound a lot like an ori’vod.” He gave a small shrug, flexing his prosthetic wrist slightly. “Just need to find out what she needs. For now, we can be there for her. She’s family.”

“Yeah, apparently Crosshair had an idea so hopefully he is able to help.” Hunter stood from his chair and stretched slowly. “How’s the upgrades Tech made?”

“Great, actually. Nice to have two hands again. Means I can give Tech a run for his money at Sabacc night.”

“Good luck with that,” Hunter laughed.

“Hey, if I can win against Cross with one hand, I think I stand a chance with two.” Echo grinned. “Maybe we’ll teach Omega next time,” he said just as the ship door opened.

“Teach me what?”

Hunter smiled in relief as he saw Omega walk in, looking a little better and holding a bag on her shoulder. “How to play Sabacc. I don’t think Tech would go easy on you, so maybe I’ll let you watch my hand next time we play. How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Cross got me some stuff.” Omega smiled, not looking as pale as before.

“I didn’t forget you guys either,” Crosshair added as he tossed a bag of items at Echo. “C’mon, kid. Let’s put this away in the fresher for ya.”

Hunter watched as Crosshair led Omega back into the bunks and relaxed. “What’d he get?” He turned to Echo.

“Food, mostly,” Echo laughed. “And other supplies. Oh, caff, keep this away from Tech. New whet stone, always useful since Wrecker loses his.”

“I do not!” Wrecker said, coming up from below deck. “Omega back? Is she feeling better?”

“Seems to be, Cross took care of it, somehow.” Hunter shrugged.

“She’s going to lay down for a bit,” Crosshair added, closing the door to the bunks behind him. “The cramps are better but she’s worn out. Try to be quiet if you need to go in.”

“How did you know how to help her, Crosshair? Tech is going in circles about what kind of information is anecdotal and what is actually medically necessary.” Echo sighed in exasperation. “It’s giving me a headache second hand.”

“I went through the same thing when I was her age.”

Hunter stared at Crosshair as the information slowly processed in his brain. “What?!”

“Quiet! don’t wake her up,” Crosshair hissed back before deflating. “If we’re going to have this discussion, let’s do it away from where the poor kid is sleeping.” He rolled his eyes and skulked off toward the small kitchen and eating area.

Hunter walked in and sat down across from Crosshair, watching as he kicked his feet up on the table chewing on a toothpick. “So what did you mean you went through the same thing? I don’t remember anything like that.”

Crosshair sighed and waited for everyone to sit before replying. “You don’t remember it because it was in the middle of the night in our eighth year.”

“That could be...what happened though? I mean...you-”

“Look like any other male clone,” Crosshair interrupted Tech. “I know. But I’m not. I had bad cramps and woke up in the middle of the night. Bled all over my bunk and was scared shitless. I ran off to the freshers with everything and tried to wash it.” Crosshair frowned. “Skirata must have heard me and found me.”

“What happened?” Hunter tensed, ready to get a plan to hunt down the trainer from Kamino.

“He helped me.” Crosshair shrugged. “Helped me get cleaned up, took the bedding to get washed and got some supplies from another trainer for me.”

“I remember that night!” Wrecker said. “I woke up and was wondering where you were,” he added with a frown. “I was worried.”

Crosshair laughed softly. “I was fine. Ended up with Skirata helping me out with medical and the Long-necks removed the ‘unneeded’ mutation.” Crosshair gave a sarcastic air quote.

“So...you’re female?” Echo asked before blushing. “I don’t mean to insult you or anything,” he added quickly.

“Genetically yes, I think the medics said that I've got an extra X. so XXY? I don’t know. Doesn’t mean anything to me now.” Crosshair pulled his feet down. “Doesn’t affect my work so I don’t care.”

“What can we do to help her then?” Hunter asked, leaning against the table as he took everything in. Crosshair’s genetic identity didn’t mean anything would change. He was still Crosshair’s ori’vod nothing would change that.

“First thing’s first, don’t make it a big deal; for EITHER of us.” Crosshair stared down Wrecker and Tech the most. “Second, she’s going to have cramps and mood swings so don’t take it personal. Third, the choco in the ship is GOING to disappear, don’t fight her on it.”

“Doesn’t sound too different from a standard cadet’s first growth spurt,” Tech commented as he made notes. “We can start to get more supplies for her, new clothes so she feels comfortable.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t look too comfortable in yer blacks,” Wrecker snickered. “Maybe we should think about getting her armor too! She’s already been doing great with her electro-bow.”

Hunter sighed and leaned back, biting back a groan and the ache in his chest of Omega growing up too quickly. “She...she isn’t ready for armor.”

“She’s the right age to start, Hunter. We all started with training armor at seven,” Echo advised, leaning up against the door frame. “We could do the mandalorian thing, have her started with a pauldron, and chest piece.”

“I really don’t want to think about that. She’s too young to be putting on armor and...and fighting.” Hunter stared at the ceiling, brows furrowed as he tried to control himself. “I don’t want her fighting. She’s just a kid and...and she deserves something other than the same shit we grew up with.”

“Careful, Hunter,” Crosshair flicked his toothpick at him. “Your buir is showing.”

“Shut up!” Hunter snapped and glared, hackles raised; although he really didn’t know why. Maybe because he was afraid Crosshair would accuse him of going soft again. Although that wasn’t exactly Crosshair before.

“Honestly, We’re all showing our buir tendencies.” Echo said with a small smile. “I understand why you don’t want to have her go through the same things we did, Hunter; but she won’t. We’ll train her. We know what not to do from our own experiences. She’ll be fine.”

Hunter frowned and leaned forward again. “I’ll think about it. For now, let’s just try to make her comfortable. Growth spurts are never fun.”

[pollylynn]

Intruder—A Caskett Future!Fic One-Shot

Title: Intruder WC: 1400 A/N: No Tell Me More tonight. (I swear, I am not trying to drag out the horrible end of this season, I just keep getting home late.) So. Future fic, because @theputz913 got me thinking about it. 

There’s an intruder in the kitchen. A clumsy, angry, foul-mouthed intruder who happens to live here. This is the sense his mind makes of far too many stimuli for this time of night. 

But it’s not night 

That’s probably his mind, too, and he can’t tell if it’s dumb or smart, if it’s helpful or otherwise. It’s probably . . . relevant. His body resents that. His body would prefer to think of his mind as misguided, misinformed, and probably a liar. But his mind probably knows what it’s talking about, even if it’s talking in obscure poetic forms or something equally indecipherable.

His feet are in league with his mind. They are shoving themselves into slippers and completely disrupting the integrity of the blanket burrito he had constructed around himself. With that ruined, he might as well let the rest of himself follow and see what’s to be done about the intruder in the kitchen. 

He can’t find her at first. It’s perplexing. He can definitely hear her. Clumsiness had turned into purposefully destructive energy and the foul-mouthedness shows no signs of letting up. He thinks at first that it’s his eyes rebelling against burrito disruption—his eyes refusing to see anything at all—but it seems to be more than just recalcitrance. 

There’s almost no light. The parts of his body that are not in league with his mind would cast a WTF? glance at the parts of it that are if only there were any part of him that could remember which parts were which, but remembering is hopeless, and anyway his mind is piping up to say that it’s not night, it’s just January. It’s just that stretch of battleship grey weeks when day is subtle to say the least. 

January seems relevant. Battleship grey seems relevant. Not night seems relevant, if only he could remember how, why, to whom. 

“I’m a morning person.” She appears suddenly from behind the breakfast bar with a clang of cast iron meeting cooktop. “I am,” she adds with a sidelong glance at the skillet she’s just slapped down. She wants the record to show there’s a weapon within easy reach. 

“Obviously.” He doesn’t mean to let that slip out. He’s not sure who or what his mouth is in league with, but he definitely did not mean to let that slip out. He’d fear for his life, but she’s slumped forward with her elbows on the counter, so unless she’s finally developed the power to murder him with her mind, he’s probably safe-ish. 

“God, Castle,” she groans and lifts a pair of pleading eyes with dark, dark smudges beneath them. “Can you . . . ?” She waves a hand at the counter behind her where, he sees now, she has a amassed a completely indiscriminate selection of things from the fridge, the cabinets, and who knows where else. 

“I can.” He snaps into action. He scurries around to the inside of counter and reaches for the elbow still planted against the granite. “And you should—“ 

Words fail him as he stands her up. Sit. That’s the word he was looking for a moment ago, but now he doesn’t know what word should follow. 

“I know.” She jerks her arm away from him. She moves as if to pull her robe defensively around her, but then she thinks better of it. She stands straight and whisks the robe back like a gunslinger about to draw. “I’m huge,” she says, and the expression on her face is this fascinating thing that’s two parts conspiratorial grin, one part murderous you-did-this glare. “I’m fucking overnight huge.” 

He wonders about the expression on his own face. He suspects it’s one part chagrin and too many parts you-bet-your-ass-I-did-that. He suspects it is the wrong expression, and the narrowing of her eyes confirms it. 

“Sit.” He swallows hard before his expression can get him into any real trouble, and takes her elbow again. The run into gridlock as he tries to move swiftly toward the couch and pillows and blankets, but she clearly wants to hover nearby as he deals with the coffee, as he cooks. “You should sit . . .” He trails off. His eyes sweep ill-advisedly between the sudden, shocking swell of her belly and  the tall stools that, when they went to bed last night, surely surely could not have looked so spindly and fragile and definitely prone to toppling over. “You should be comfortable.” 

Her face crumples. Her mood swings and his swings along with it. He can feel the exhaustion coming off her in waves. He can see that the thought of settling herself on the stool seems about as achievable as climbing Everest at the moment. 

“I wanna watch.” She sniffles. It’s an exhausted sniffle. It’s not actually a teary sniffle, just exhausted, but it bothers her anyway. Her voice drops low. “I wanna talk to you.” 

He’s frozen for a moment. He’s overcome with the sweetness of the slightly sullen admission. He wonders, not for the first time, which of the two of them is supposed to be hormone saturated here. He shakes himself out of it. 

“Wait.” He rushes by, kissing her on the nose as he passes. “Wait right there.” 

He drags the wingback chair over. He parks it just east of the oven door and runs back for the ottoman. He installs her on her relocated throne. He swings her feet up and tucks her in with blankets. She grumbles and swipes at him, but her eyes are closing on her. They’re actually closing. 

It’s convenient. It lets him work quickly. He returns the truly random objects—baking powder, leftover Italian, oyster crackers—back in their rightful places and sets the pot of half-caff to brew while she’s dozing off and works on eggs, on toast, on bacon. Her eyes flutter open every once in a while and she murmurs something that really requires no response. 

She rouses just in time, just as everything’s done, and she’s something closer to bright-eyed. She’s ravenous enough that she’s forgotten that she wanted to watch, she wanted to talk. She’s ravenous enough that she doesn’t object to the plate he brings her right there in the wingback chair, as he leans with his hip against the counter and picks at his own. 

“Tired again,” she announces when her plate is clean. There are spots of slightly miserable pink in her cheeks as she says it. She’s embarrassed, or maybe frustrated with the changes that keep coming at her fast and furious, changes that keep coming from within her. She’s too tired to lift the plate, but she grabs him by his robe when he bends over to retrieve it from her. “Sorry.” 

“No.” He tugs at her ear. A play out of her playbook. “Not sorry. Nothing to be sorry about.” 

“I’m a morning person.” She looks away. “I was going to make breakfast.” 

“Kate, you’re making a person in there.” He budges his way on to the arm of the chair and risks a drum of his fingers on the topmost curve of the bump. “I think, just this once, you can be excused from making breakfast.” 

She gives him a shrug–nod that says she’s not convinced. “This was supposed to be fun.”  He’s frozen again. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s not much of a problem. She seems to have lots to say about it. “They tell you it’s magical and indescribable.” She scowls down at herself. “It’s pretty fucking describable.” 

“Describable. As not . . . fun?”

 He gives her a thin smile. He’s trying to lighten things, which makes him feel like an ass. Maybe lightening is not what she needs. He opens his mouth to apologize, to ask what she needs, but she’s considering it. She’s still scowling down at herself, but she’s smiling, too. There’s that mixture again—conspiratorial grin plus murderous glare. 

“Some of it is.” She startles in the chair. Her eyes go wide and she has to catch her breath. She grabs for his hand and rests it on the curve of her belly. She moves. Their daughter moves like a slow-motion wave and his breath leaves the building entirely. He looks down at her, eyes wide. She smiles up, no murder at all in it now. “Some of it is so much fun.” 

[your-average-weeb-dealer]

Hello love! I hope you're doing great. I want to request prompt 11 Angst with Oikawa [haikyuu]. Like you find out he only asked you out because it was a bet, but it turns into fluff at the end. Or whatever you come up with is good too! Thank you in advance ❣❣❣

Funny story- that happened to me in 10th grade; I cried for a week. 

ANYWAYS- I didn’t really have enough space to write a fluffy ending so the whole thing is just angst. Sorry, I hope you don’t mind! 

Valentines day prompt list here!

{Angst} “You used me”

Hopping and skipping through the street, towards a little caffe. You hummed a little tune- it might’ve been “Mary had a little lamb” or “I’m sexy and I know it”. Honestly,  it didn’t matter, all you knew was you were ecstatic. 

A few months ago the captain of your school's volleyball team; Oikawa Toru, asked you on a date. Yes the Oikawa- the undeniably sexy, charming, heart throb. Yes, that Oikawa Toru. 

This was somewhat of what it was like; When he asked you out, Iwaizumi, surprisingly was nowhere near, but the rest of his team was. Well not right next to him but you saw them in the corner of the room- giggling? No- they were probably just talking about a game or something- but why were they looking at you and Oikawa? 

“Y/n,” He looked at you with an uncomfortable expression, his hand behind his head “Will you. Uhm- go out with me? Like on a date?” 

Stunned was the only word that could be used to describe you in that moment. Oh my god, did he really just ask me out? REALLY?! Out of all of his fans, me?! You thought as you accepted excitedly. 

Ever since then you and Oikawa had grown quite close, nothing official but everyone knew you loved each other. But whenever you were around the Aoba Johsai volleyball team, everyone either gave you a pitting expression or giggled. All except Iwaizumi, he refused to even look at you. You thought it was just that he was jealous of you, I mean you were dating the hottest guy at Aoba Johsai.

Walking into the coffee shop, you didn’t see Oikawa. But when you went inside you saw Iwaizumi, sitting at a table, looking seriously angry. 

“There you are Y/n, we need to talk,” He said getting up from his seat and walking over to you, 

“Sorry I’m late, where's Oikawa? He said he’d be here…” You scanned the room behind Iwazumi, just to check that Oikawa wasn’t around a secret corner or something. 

“He’s not coming Y/n,” He led you over to a seat and sat you down across from him, “I texted you because I can’t stand to see crappy-kawa do this to someone as beautiful as you.” taking a deep breath he continued.

”Look, some of the guys on the team thought it would be funny to 'dare' him to ask you out. When I found out I didn’t know how to tell you. He’s never really done anything like this before and I’m always here to clean up that shitty-kawas mess and well…” His voice trailed off as he tried to explain, but all you could think about was how your entire relationship was just a “dare”. A fucking dare. What was he? I fucking 5 year old, who plays truth or dare with someones feelings? 

It did make sense though, from the minute you had started dating he’d acted really weird around you, always hiding you from his fans, still flirting with other people and often just seemed like he didn’t care. 

“I-I need to go,” You stammed stumbling to get out of your chair.

“Hey! Be careful! Wait- where are you goi-” You rushed out of the shop and dialed Oikawa's number. 

“Hello baby~ miss me already?” He cooed through the phone, “you just can’t get enough of your beautiful lover can yo-” 

“It was a dare?” Your voice cracked into the phone, “a fucking dare? OIKAWA ARE YOU 6 YEARS OLD? HOW IMMATURE CAN YOU GET!?” screaming into the phone, you didn’t care how many onlookers saw you. You were beyond pissed, you were humiliated.

“y-y/n, I can explain! Listen I know it sounds bad but-” He tried to rush in before you inevitably cut him off. 

“So you’re admitting to it? Fuck you, you used me. We’re done,” if you could’ve slammed your phone on the ground without it breaking, you would. But seeing all the people stare at you, realizing you had just broken up with your boyfriend over the phone. 

You ran away crying, what more could you do? There's isn't much you can help when you’re in love with someone and they aren’t in love with you.

(update: part two here )

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 10

Prompt: “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Read on AO3

Ghosts of the Past

"And med supplies?" Obi-Wan asks, glancing up from his datapad. "How are our bacta levels?"

"Good, sir," Cody nods.

"Yes, I suppose we've had a good streak going. Okay, now fuel levels?"

"Half tank."

"Weapons?"

"Forty units short, I believe."

Obi-Wan nods and types the order into the datapad.

"Alright, then the last things on the supply lists are..." he trails off as a strange feeling washes over him. He looks up, his eyes scanning the hanger. Troopers mill about in the usual bustle of days where there are no battles, just some administrative duties, and down-time. He can feel Cody staring at him, and is about to ignore the feeling when he spots a non-military ship on the other side of the hanger.

It's a modest ship, but it's not the vessel that is bothering him. Two mechanical troopers talk to a man standing next to the ship. From this distance, Obi-Wan can't quite see the man, but he can feel him.

In the Force, this person is familiar in a way that causes chills to run down his spine and the distant sound of bombs exploding to echo in his mind.

"Sir, is something wrong?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan's head snaps back to him. He points across the hanger to a ship and a small group of humans talking to the mechanic clones.

"Do we have visitors?"

"Uh, diplomats I believe. Requested to land for maintenance on their cooling system. Is there a problem?"

Obi-Wan doesn't answer him, just hands him the datapad with the supply orders and starts to walk in their direction. He doesn't know what he hopes to accomplish he just... has to find out.

He weaves through the various groups of troopers, only giving himself time to nod as they salute in his presence. The closer he gets to the man the better his view gets and the greater the buzzing in his stomach grows. Though Cody described him as a diplomat, he isn't dressed as so. He wears modest travel clothes and boots that are nearly as beat up as Obi-Wan's. The only true indication that he is some sort of political leader is the golden pin that secures his dark green cloak.

The man brushes his fingers through his short brown hair, pushing it off to the side, his dark eyes flickering up to meet Obi-Wan's.

And he stops dead in the center of the aisle, his entire body feeling numb and his throat tight. He must look like he's seen a ghost because a moment later he feels Cody's hand gently touching him at the elbow.

"General?" Cody sounds worried, which is enough to get Obi-Wan to tear his eyes away from the face of a man who might as well be a ghost. He doesn't know what to say to his commander, who is looking back and forth between him and their guest.

A guest that just handed his datapad to the mechanical clones and now approaches them.

Obi-Wan generally considers himself well prepared for most situations that may be thrown at him. War has taught him a lot about always being ready for a fight or a hasty retreat, and how to properly read a situation to decide which is appropriate.

But now, Obi-Wan is at a loss. All he can do is stand there as a piece of his past he never thought would be dug up again walks right up to him.

"I take it you're the Jedi General," he says in a thick Outer Rim accent. "I thank you for your hospitality in allowing us to get repairs."

"It is fortunate we were on your route, I suppose," he smiles weakly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Right, I haven't introduced myself, apologies," he bows respectfully. "I am Representative Nield of Melidaan."

Nield. Oh, Nield. No wonder the Force felt so familiar and so heavy. He hardly looks different than he did three decades ago-- just a bit older, but time has been kind to him.

"Melidaan?"

"Outer Rim. We've avoided this war so far so I'm surprised you haven't heard of us... though that's not an invitation."

"Of course not. I just..." It's obvious Nield doesn't recognize him, and a part of him is hesitant to reveal his identity. They did not exactly part on friendly terms, and Obi-Wan doesn't have the same face he did when he was thirteen. But there is a curiosity there he can't help. He wants to know what happened after he left the Young in their victory. "I hadn't realized the name was changed."

Nield blinks. "What did you say your name was, general?"

The moment of truth. "Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Now Representative Nield looks as though he's seen a ghost. His jaw literally drops, eyes growing wide. He reaches out, looking as though he is going to cup his cheeks before resting on his shoulders and Obi-Wan sees Cody flinch out of the corner of his eye.

"Obi-Wan?" Nield says, barely above a whisper. Suddenly it is like they are thirteen again, two of the oldest among a group of children fighting for peace. "How the hell did they drag you into another war?"

__________

Cody watched as the men embraced-- Nield, he called himself. A political leader from Melidaan. Cody has never heard of that planet, but General Kenobi appeared to be familiar with it. Somehow he is also familiar with this Nield despite looking uncharacteristically petrified by his presence. It made Cody nervous that maybe this would be some sort of old enemy that they mistakenly cleared, but now that he examines the men talking quietly to one another, he realizes they look at one another in the same way his brothers do.

How the hell did they drag you into another war?

He didn't know General Kenobi had been in another war-- in fact, nothing in his knowledge of recent Republic history indicates there were any other major wars fought unless he found himself in a small scale one. Though, General Kenobi is often talking about how foreign it is to be a soldier when Jedi training is to be a peacekeeper. He has given no indication that he has a history of being a veteran, but it would explain how he is so skilled with battle strategy.

Cody thinks about this as he heads to the mess to find a cup of caff. It's late in the evening, but new orders have come in that he has to prepare for.

Unsurprisingly, General Kenobi seems to have come to the same conclusion. Cody finds him pouring his own mug.

"We seem to always be on the move," the general says with a weak smile as Cody walks up next to him to grab his own mug.

"Did they mistake us for General Skywalker again?"  

He chuckles, moving out of the way so Cody can pour his own mug. "I believe Anakin and the 501st will also be joining us."

"Yes sir, I saw. Rex sent me a comm as soon as he found out."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, I'm sure the men will enjoy the reunion. Hopefully, we can get some more reprieve after as well."

They start walking back toward the briefing room, caff and a few ration bars in hand. Speaking of reunions...

"Was your visit with Representative Nield... enjoyable, sir?"

"I did not expect to see him again. The last time I saw him he was quite adamant about how much he hated me."

He looks at the Jedi with surprise. "I wouldn't have guessed, sir."

"We were young. Headstrong and passionate about what we believed in."

"You met him on Melidaan?"

"In a way," General Kenobi's pleasant disposition clouds. "Back then it was called Melida/Daan, though. I assume you heard him marvel at how I ended up in another war?"

Cody nods, suddenly feeling as though he is impeding on the privacy of General Kenobi's past. He opens his mouth to assure him he has nothing to explain and it is none of his business, but then the Jedi is talking.

"The Melida and the Daan were two groups on this planet stuck in a bloody civil war. They hated one another so vehemently they couldn't decide on a name for their planet, so the Republic eventually gave up and hyphenated. A Jedi was sent there to try and facilitate peace, but she was captured. Qui-Gon and I were sent to extract her."

General Kenobi stops outside the briefing room, leaning his back against the wall. "The Master was taken by a third group-- the children of the Melida and the Daan who were fed up with the fighting. They called themselves the Young. Nield was one of the Young, which is how we met."

"So the Jedi stayed to help?"

He tucks his arms into the billowing sleeves of his cloak, exhaling deeply "Not the Jedi, no. Qui-Gon had to get the injured Master back to the Temple, and we had no jurisdiction to fight their war. I was given a choice, and I felt my place was to help the Young."

There's a tightness to his words that doesn't go over Cody's head. His time in the war is obviously not something he has talked much about-- he's never even heard it referred to, and they are certainly in the context in which it would come up. Cody has learned General Kenobi isn't usually keen on talking about himself. He seldom mentions his master, and talks even less about his apprenticeship. He doesn't want to push the subject, but something is nagging at him...

"How old were you, sir?"

General Kenobi looks from the spot he fixated on behind Cody's shoulder to making eye contact. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and Cody has a horrible feeling about the answer.

"Thirteen," he mutters. Were the corridor not empty, he may not have heard it at all.

"Thirteen? They left a kid alone to fight a war?"

"I was one of the oldest among the Young, actually."

He says this as though that doesn't make things all the more horrifying. Cody feels bad enough when the shinies come through, barely ten standard years, but at least they have the bodies of grown men. But true kids? An army of children younger than Commander Tano?

"Pardon me for speaking freely, sir, but the Jedi allowed this? Your master let you stay in a war zone?"

"Well I..." he looks at Cody in a way he has never seen General Kenobi look before. There is this deep sadness behind his bright eyes that reminds him that he is not just a High General and a Jedi Master. "Cody, the choice I made was between going back with Qui-Gon, or leaving the Jedi Order."

Cody's throat goes dry. Suddenly his vague references to choices and the Jedi not being involved make sense, and dammit, he shouldn't have been so dense to make him spell it out. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Cody," General Kenobi says with a kind smile that Cody doesn't feel he deserves. "You couldn't have known. To be honest, and I'm not proud of it, not even Anakin or Ahsoka know."

"Sir, then why tell me?"

He shrugs. "I trust you with my life, commander, why not with my teenage war stories, too."

Cody is relieved to see a glimpse of the usual dry-humored General Kenobi coming back through, but he still is at a loss of words from all of this.

"In all seriousness," General Kenobi continues, "I don't often think about my apprenticeship. Anakin has me to remind him about all his embarrassing moments, but I usually don't have to face my past like I did today," he pauses. "Can I ask your advice, Cody?"

"I'm not sure what help I could be, sir, but sure."

"Should I tell Anakin about Melida/Daan?"

Cody is certainly not qualified to give padawan parenting advice, but the general doesn't seem to care. He tries to consider if he has any relatable experiences in his short life, but clones were not raised with such individualized instruction. But he does remember nights spent with his batchmates, talking about anything and everything to pass the time. And when he sees Rex again they will try to find a time to sit down with glasses of brew, talking about every dumb plan Skywalker implemented and how it somehow worked out for the best and continuing their count of stupidly self-sacrificing things Kenobi does that threatens to give the entire 212th a heart attack.

He always considered the Jedi to be like little families-- families that train each other to be excellent warriors, but families nonetheless. In a way, the clones have adopted that familial mindset as well. With the galaxy unsure of what to do with them, they at least have one another to get through it all.

So maybe he does know a thing or two.

"It can't hurt, sir. It's probably something Skywalker would want to know about."

"Oh yes," the Jedi Master muses. "He was outraged when he found out about the time got to ride a varactyl for a royal a hunting party."

Cody raises an eyebrow. "Sir?"

He smiles, shaking his head. "A story for another time, Cody."

[jessiebanethedragon]

Unabashedly

The four times you caught Rex staring, and the time he caught you. 

The first time you met the Captain of the five-oh-first, you figured he was staring because of how unusual your presence was. As a Jedi who spent their time learning from the force in nature, to Rex you were an enigma. You noticed that his hamlet stayed focused on you long after you had formerly been introduced. 

“Captain Rex,” You said, and like a shiny at the 79's for the first time, he blushed. Thank the maker for helmets, he thought. “I know trust doesn't come easy and all, and I know I’m not exactly a typical jedi per say but…” You trailed off. He was still watching you, and awkwardness filled the space between you. Anakin coughed, trying to waver his captain's attention. He didn't need his jedi senses to  tell him what about you was distracting Rex. 

“Can I speak to you outside for a moment Rex.” Oh he was in for it now. 

The second time you noticed his watchful eye was mid battle. The movement of you and your lightsaber was captivating. He had never seen a Jedi move so gracefully, it’s like you were dancing on a tank, surrounded by clankers, and oh - right he was supposed to be laying down cover fire!  

“Captain!” Fives was yelling at him, “we need you down here.” Fives, as usual, was being a blessing and a curse. And as usual, when Rex thought he was being stealthy in his staring, the entirety of his crew knew he had a soft spot for one particular jedi. Fives calling him down from his vantage point had two main objectives. One, it was actually useful to the battle, and two hopefully it would snap him out of his daze. Fives had no such luck. 

“What’s the update Captain?” You asked, having jumped off the edge of a tank that was smoking from every corner. 

“We are expecting air support any minute general.” He said, not turning your way. Your messy hair, flushed face and soft smile, he thought to himself, might actually cause him to go into cardiac arrest.  

“Perfect!” You exclaimed as Kenobi’s troops finally arrived. “Now this is what I call a party!” laughter boomed from Fives, who found your energy far too incorrigible for everyone elses liking. 

“What are you at General?” He asked curiously. 

“42 clankers and…” You trailed off looking at the remnants of your previous escapade. “One tank.” Fives grumbled. “Something wrong?” you feigned innocence. 

“This is so unfair.” He threw his hands up in the air, and smiled as he saw another battalion of droids coming up over the ridge.  Without warning he took off towards them. “I can still beat you yet!” He called back. 

“Please don’t tell me you…” Rex started 

“Bet Fives I could kill more clankeers than him?” You finished turning back to him. He nodded, crossing his arms unamused. “Don't tell me you don't approve, captain.” 

“It’s not that general it’s that…” you cut him off again, 

“How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a general, I do have a name you know.” you playfully hit him in the shoulder, but with all that armour you doubted if he could feel it. 

“Okay but still, gambiling isn't allowed.” He started watching the troops begin their forward assault. 

“What if a very lovely Jedi was to share the spoils of war with you?” You cheekily asked. 

“Depends on what you win.” he stated, finally playing along. 

“You just have to wait and see won't you captain.” You yelled back to hin, taking off into the battle, his eyes never leaving you as you ran off.   

The third time, you barely remember. It was late, really late, and everyone had been up for days thanks to a prolonged siege of Ryloth, or was it Bespin? You were too tired to even think about keeping things straight in your head. And of course at two in the morning (even though technically even traveling through space there's no time zone to really follow) Anakin Skywalker had decided on one last briefing before landing at your destination. So when you walk into the meeting room still in your sleepwear of course, everyone's a little shocked. But  Rex, Rex is enchanted. Your hair is messy and keeps falling in your face, the baggy shirt keeps falling off your shoulder and you try to right yourself to no avail. 

“Want some?” He asks, crossing the room to you, he’s already in half his armour, but only his blacks on the top half. Much to your delight. You eye the cup of caff he’s holding out and sleepily nod.

“Thank you.” You tell him and in your exhausted induced genius you decide that right now, as the briefing in a room full of people, Rex’s shoulder is the perfect place for your head. In your time working together, there wasn't anyone else you trusted more. There wasn't anyone else you liked as much as Rex and while you were beginning to worry about the attachment you had to him, your sleepy self didn't really care at the moment. 

“When we land here…” Anakin rambled at the holomap, all eyes on him, you leaned more and more into the comfy pillow of a man next to you. And very, very slowly, his arm snuck around your waist to support you just a tiny bit more. Him staring at your tiny figure from above, curled into his shoulder and chest, his mug of caf in your hands, hair smelling of that wild soap you always used. His mind repeated one word over and over as he stared. Heaven. 

If you were caught now, both of you would be court martialed, but the room was dark, and everyone was tired. And even though Anakin could clearly see both of you, he couldn't help but smile. 

The four, and most recent time you noticed his lingering gaze, was the one and only time you had lost a bet to Fives, you tried to get out of it, claiming that having Echo support him in winning meant disqualification but after you had him bleach his hair for winning the clankers bet, you couldn't back out of this one. And either way, it was just one night, just one night in the 79's and then you’d never have to do it again. 

“Looking good General!” He teased, offering you his arm before leading (pulling) you out of the cab

“Fives it is literally just me in a dress, I look how I always do!” You told him. 

“Maybe you always look good.” He said with a wink, both of you stopped for a moment before laughing. Next to Rex, Fives had to be your best friend. 

“Sorry sugar,” you drawled out jokingly once you get inside the brightly lit bar “You may be pretty but maker do I love blondes.” He chuckled, 

“I’d like to point out I was a blonde.”  He said, nudging you. “Or is it a particular blonde you love.” Your face goes more red than a sith’s lightsaber at that. 

“Remind me never to tell you anything again.” You said looking around for the nearest alcoholic beverage. It’s then you see him, that particular blonde. He’s shuffled off in a booth in the corner, learning on his elbows, unabashedly staring. 

His top half was only covered by his blacks, and this time you’re fully awake to appreciate the way his muscles are outlined by the material.

“He’s been looking at you like that since you walked in. You know for a jedi there’s a lot you don't notice.” Fives whispered in your ear.  Before finishing a drink you hadn't even seen him pick up.  You turned back to make a sarcastic comment (one of your lesser appreciated skills) when Tup shouted:

“Hey captain come have a drink with us!” Your eyes widened as Fives starts a laugh that sounded more like a witches cackle than anything else. And just as you were able to formulate an escape plan you feel a presence behind you. 

“Well, correct me if i’m wrong but that doesn't look like Jedi approved clothing.” Rex mumbled to you. And your brain worked double time to think of a fantastic comeback. 

“It’s for when I go undercover.” -nailed it. Rex raises an eyebrow, with a half smile, he still hasn't taken his eyes off of you. 

It happened again that night, or maybe it didn't ever stop. But you’d had enough drinks to feel less shy. And as the hours passed by you ended up all in a both, you in the middle while the boys sang a song they apparently learned on Kamino. But the underlying message suggests that they most certainly did not. You’d been leaning on Fives for a while oblivious to Rex’s glare until he’d come over and yanked you into the squishy cushion with him. One arm sneaks around your shoulders and you can smell the whiskey on him, on you? Eh who cares anyways.

“Ibac'ner cyar'ika” Rex was whispering, you weren't sure what any of it meant, but given his tone you didn't really care. Anything to keep his voice that deep and smooth and close to you.

“What does that mean?” you asked, your mando’a was coming along, but you didn't know nearly enough. 

“Mesh'la.” He said, tracing the collar of your dress, still staring at you. And of course the second you both lean that little bit closer, Hardcase still his drink on you.  

You’re in the medbay, the incessant beeping tells you that much. You think it’s maybe because you and Ventress got into a bit of a disagreement. She wanted to kill you and you very much didn't want to be killed. All things considered, you're impressed. All she managed to do was graze your side. 

“Kix?” you ask as your vision adjusts to the clone by your bedside. But it’s not Kix at all.

Rex is still wearing all his armour, except his helmet is on the floor. He’s covered in mud, blood, and who knows what else. His hand rests on his gun, and his head is slumped over. He’s asleep. A pang of longing hits you, he looks so delicate right now, and it’s at that moment you realize how in love with that stupidly loyal, stuck up, serious commander you really are. 

“Starin’s rude ya know.” he says, eyes still closed. 

“I figured I owe you a few for all those times I’ve caught you.” He hums in amusement, stretching and coming fully awake. 

“I don’t stare.” He states pointedly. 

“Oh really? What is it you do then?”You question, teasing him. 

“I appreciate.” He says. And you scoff. 

“What about me do you appreciate then?” 

“Your personality, skills as a fighter, and the fact that you are unabashedly you.” He says moving closer and taking your hands in his. “You’re stunning, impossible, and about the only person in the universe who I'd leave the republic for.” And I mean, who wouldn't kiss him after that. And it’s long overdue for the two of you anyways. It’s gentle, like you’re both afraid of feeling what you feel. But the way his lips touch yours blocks out the anxiety, the way he moves to hold you close destroys any idea that you have of ever letting him go. And when you finally break apart he smiles and says:  

“But that ass of yours sure is a bonus.” You use both hands to push him over.