#rex x gn!reader

[honeydjarin]

KISS IT BETTER

REX X READER

Rex’s feelings for you have been steadily growing for a while now, but he believes they’re his own burden to bear. When he gets injured, he thinks you might feel the same. When you get injured, he knows for certain.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: blood and injury

word count: 2,600

a/n: this wip has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I finally got around to finishing it. I’m excited to be writing again!

Rex’s affection is a slow, steady thing. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, not when he leads the rest of his life with such level headed strength, but it does. He doesn’t notice the way it settles into the cradle of his ribs, the way it blinks into existence. It falls into place like the stars after a sunset, small bursts of light piercing the dark a handful at a time until there is no question that the sky is full—near bursting. 

The sun seems to set quicker each time Rex sees you, the stars in his heart brighter with every passing day. If it weren’t for his practiced composure and unwavering respect for your position on the Resolute, that affection just might spill out of him, tearing him apart at the seams, his body alone no longer enough to contain his feelings. 

But his emotions are his own, and you haven’t asked, nor offered, to help bear them. 

You’re a medic on the Resolute, one of the few faces onboard that doesn’t match all the others on the Star Destroyer. That distinction alone was enough to spark gossip among the men when you were first assigned to work alongside the 501st. 

Rex didn’t think much of it at the time. Gossip rarely holds weight, and he’s never put any stock in it. A new medic, nat-born or clone, is simply something the 501st was in need of. He didn’t think much of the matter beyond the benefit of having additional hands in the medbay. Maybe he would have paid more attention to the gossip if he had met you before the talk died down. It wasn’t until later, after a particularly rough skirmish that left more men than he felt comfortable with on bed rest, that Rex finally met you. 

You were bouncing around between beds, checking in with the men still on bed rest, when he first saw you. Easy smile, mellow mannered, kind—these are the things about you that stood out to Rex. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Captain,” you greeted as you stepped by him. Of course you already knew of him. His position on the Resolute made it near impossible to not be involved in at least some rumors, just as your status as a non clone made you stand out.  

“Likewise,” he said, the word feeling oddly heavy on his tongue. He had no way of knowing at the time that the first seeds of attraction were already starting to take root. Admiration and attraction can feel a lot alike in their early stages. Maybe it was a mix of both that caused words to fail him. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” you asked, pausing what you were doing to give Rex your full attention, gaze boring into him with an unexpected weight—like a tractor beam pulling him into your eyes. The steady hold of your gaze was nearly too much to handle. Rex dragged his own eyes away from you then, choosing instead to take in the scene around him, needing a distraction. Most of the beds were full, but enough time had passed since the skirmish that all of the men still in the medbay were stable, and many almost ready to leave. 

“I just wanted to check in on them,” Rex said, nodding at the beds behind you.

“Of course.” You smiled.   

The interaction was brief. You had things to do, and Rex wasn’t in the medbay just to see you—that would come later. But, despite the brevity of the meeting, it was enough for him to get a sense of who you are, enough for you to wiggle your way into his heart—just a little. 

Rex’s affection is a slow, steady thing. By the time he finally realizes just how much of him you really hold, it is too late to change course.  

—♡—

The blood spills from his side slowly. Ever-slipping time allowed the wound to begin clotting, but it’s too big, too deep to heal fully on its own. The blood sticks to his blacks, the still wet stain difficult to see on the already dark colored cloth. 

He was hit by a piece of shrapnel during the last battle. An exploding tank sent pieces of the vehicle and broken droids his way. For the most part, he managed to escape injury, but something managed to nick his side in one of the places his armor fails to cover. Only his now ruined blacks stood between the shrapnel and his skin. 

It will hurt to pull the fraying fabric from torn flesh, but when the time comes, he will grit his teeth and bear it. Rex has been through worse, no doubt, and he surely will again in the future. It’s why he waited to seek out treatment. There are others who need it more, those who might not survive without immediate attention. He doesn’t want to be a hindrance when doing so could harm others. 

Instead of seeking out a medic, he distracts himself. He focuses on what can be done, takes steps that will result in the closest thing to a positive outcome after a battle. He doesn’t expect a medic to seek him out, especially not you.

You walk over to him without hesitation, like you’re singularly focused on reaching him, and Rex wouldn’t be surprised if that was true. The scowl tugging at the corner of your lip and creasing your brow, an unfamiliar expression on your usually smiling face, is aimed directly at him. He has never seen you angry like this before. Even with the harsh look that will inevitably be accompanied by a scolding when you reach him, the sight of you sends his world spinning. 

Maybe he lost more blood than he thought.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You speak as you approach.

“My job,” he responds. This whole conversation seems wrong. While your question was delivered with a tone that made the words sound more like a scolding, his own statement, which should have held an assurance fitting for a Captain, sounds unsure. 

“Kix mentioned you might be injured,” you say. Rex’s hand raises to his side in reflex, cradling the air above his injury but not making contact with the laceration beneath. You hum knowingly, stepping closer to get a better look. 

You swat Rex’s hand aside as you bend down, taking in the injury without actually touching the wound. It’s difficult to see the full extent of what happened with Rex’s blacks still in the way, but the still wet blood soaking into the fabric tells you plenty.  

“I wish you had come to me,” you admonish, pulling out a medkit from your pack. The supplies are reduced from when the battle started—Rex tries not to linger on the implications of that reduction. 

“I had things that needed to get done, just as I’m sure you did.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” You pause what you're doing, looking him in the eye while you talk, as if doing so can make your words sink in. There’s a pained look in your eyes as you speak, like the thought of him being injured makes you hurt with him. It's a look you hide well, but Rex still catches the way you seem to bite your tongue to keep from saying something more.  

You turn your focus back to the injury, setting out to do what you can to ensure it heals as thoroughly and efficiently as possible. If you were petty, you just might tug a little harder than necessary while pulling the fabric of his ruined blacks from the wound. You might use more force than needed to eject the stim into his system, or press the bacta patch onto his skin a little firmer than the adhesive calls for. You would remind him of why it’s important to seek out medical treatment as soon as possible. Maybe next time he would come see you sooner. 

Instead, you’re gentle with the gash.  

You may be unhappy about the fact that Rex got injured, but you’re disinclined to make him hurt anymore than he already does. You can understand why he avoided seeking medical attention, that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it—not when, of all people, Rex is the one who is hurting. 

“Please try to be careful,” you say as you finish. You stand up, looking him in the eye once more. Your next words slip out before you can stop them. It’s a quiet, almost confession. “I hate seeing you hurt.”   

Before Rex can respond, you step away, off to hunt down others who tried their best to avoid medical attention. Rex is left to wonder if your words were said as a medic, or as something from the heart, something personal. His cheeks warm at the thought. 

Is it wrong for him to hope for more? 

—♡—

“KARK!” The expletive is followed by a series of quieter grumbles and moans. You pull your hand from the drawer to cradle near your chest, eyes burning with unshed tears as you attempt to take in the damage.

Blood bubbles up from your palm, welling for just a moment before spilling over. It drips down your wrist and onto the once sterile floor below.

“Who in Sith Hells keeps a vibroblade with the notepads?” You grumble. 

“Surely not a medic.” You startle despite the familiarity of the voice, turning around to see who has entered the medbay. Rex is taking your hand in his own before you fully process who is standing beside you. His touch is gentle against the delicate skin, his calloused hand nearly as warm as the now throbbing wound on yours. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” you say. “Nothing a little bacta and a bandage can’t fix.” 

He doesn’t seem to believe you, his frown deepening as you brush off the cut like it’s nothing. Despite the guilt that settles in your gut for being the cause of his displeasure, your cheeks warm at the thought of his concern. 

“Can I help you? Will you let me?” He is already herding you towards one of the beds, guiding you to sit on the edge so that he can gather the necessary supplies. You sigh, not wanting to trouble him any more than you already have, but concede. 

“Fine. But clean your hands,” you demand before telling him where the necessary supplies are kept. 

Rex does as you say without a fuss.

“Are you sure you don’t need stitches?” he asks, brows furrowing as he takes in the wound. He doesn't shy away, used to seeing much worse on a regular basis. It makes your heart sink to think about how much he has seen—how much he has lost. 

“Yes, fortunately. The bacta will be enough.” 

Rex works silently, apologizing when you hiss at the touch of bacta to the wound but not breaking his concentration from the task at hand. He works with the diligence of a soldier. With his attention directed solely on your injured hand, you are given a chance to admire him. 

It’s a habit that started the first time you met him and has only gotten worse with time. You had heard about the Captain of the 501st. His loyalty unwavering, his mind steady and well balanced while his General is so fond of taking risks. You didn’t expect the softened look in his brown eyes. Falling for him was easy.  

“Hey Rex, did you need something from the medbay?” you ask, needing something to distract yourself from his steady hands, from the slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, from his singular focus on you—even if it is just because you’re injured. 

“Hmm?” He looks up for the first time since he started treating the wound. It’s fully bandaged now, and the pain has all but subsided thanks to the soothing cool of bacta. “Kix said you were in here.” 

His eyes flick away from yours and he clears his throat. It’s not the first time he’s sought you out in the medbay for the simple reason of enjoying your company, but still the decision seems to leave him embarrassed. 

He switches the topic before you can respond. 

“You need to be careful. How can you patch me up if you don’t have any hands to work with?” Rex jokes, a small smile stretching across his lips, eyes gleaming. 

“You know I’m always careful. Of the two of us, you’re the reckless one.” 

You reach out to shove his shoulder, laughing as you do. There isn’t any strength behind it, it’s just a teasing gesture, but you reach out with your injured hand. The aching sting of a cut sets your nerves alight immediately, and you hiss as you pull the hand back to your chest. The bandage holds strong, no blood leaking through, but that doesn’t stop the pain.

Rex pulls the hand back to him, his grip feather light as he traces the edges of the bandage. His brow furrows in concern and it takes an effort not to reach out and smooth the evidence of his worry. You can’t help but think: It’s the perfect spot to place a kiss.    

“Does it hurt a lot?” He asks, growing serious again.

“Just a little.” The thought of kissing Rex must still be stuck in your brain because, before you can stop the words from slipping out, you add, “Maybe you can kiss it better?”    

Rex’s eyes go comically wide, lips parting but no words coming out. Your words surprised him, more than either of you thought possible. You go to pull away, to come up with some excuse about why he doesn’t have to. You try to think of a way to tell him that you didn’t mean it like that (you did), and that he can just forget about it. It was a joke (it wasn’t). The two of you could laugh it off. But Rex’s mind catches up with your request before you can brush it away.

He takes your hand, still cradled gently in his own, and presses his lips to a spot on your palm that wasn’t sliced open by the vibroblade. They linger there for just a moment before he pulls back, keeping your hand by his heart.  

You haven’t offered to help bear the weight of Rex’s feelings for you, but your question is a request for him to see your own, and a hope that he might reciprocate. He can hardly believe it to be true. 

He needs to be sure. 

Rex brings a hand up to your cheek, his fingers barely brushing against the skin there, and it's your turn to be left in shock. Eyes wide, lips parted, a mirror of Rex just moments ago. 

“Does it feel better?” he asks. He leans in closer, merely waiting for permission to kiss you properly. 

“I don’t know. I think you should try it again.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s all the answer he needs. 

Rex’s hand finds a proper place against your cheek, and then he kisses you. His lips are soft against your own, and any worries either of you might have had slip away. 

The kiss is short and sweet, merely testing the waters, but it’s enough to leave you in a daze. You’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time. You wonder if he has wanted it for just as long (you think, maybe, he has).  

You hum, a smile growing wide across your lips, and say, “I’m definitely feeling better now.”

[actuallybarb]

softest sweater

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: one curse word i think, reader and rex shower together but there’s nothing sexual, ahsoka is sad, there’s literally no plot this is just self-indulgent fluff

word count: 0.86k

a/n: i just want it to stop being 104° every day and have a clone trooper to call my own. modern au, i guess, but nothing is specified. i wrote this in, like, an hour, so pls forgive any mistakes

The sleeves of your sweater were pushed up over your elbows as you washed the growing pile of dishes in the sink, watching the rain fall from your kitchen window. Since the window faced your backyard, you didn’t see whoever it was that knocked on your front door. One quick glance through the peephole, though, had you throwing it open.

Ahsoka stood on your front step, completely soaked through. You pulled her into your home, and with the sounds of the storm shut out with the closed door, you could properly hear her choked back sobs.

“‘Soka?”

“Barriss, she—she broke up with me.”

“Oh, baby.” Water be damned, you pulled her into a hug, softly stroking her cold montrals. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She pulled back and wiped at her eyes, still sniffling. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“I’m glad you came here. Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head, water falling off of her. “Raid the closet for something dry, I’ll get you some food.”

She pulled you into another hug and mumbled, “Thank you,” into your chest.

You turned back into the kitchen and set the oven to preheat, then sent a quick message.

She’s with me.

After you put the frozen pizza into the oven and started on some cookie dough, your front door opened again. Heavy footsteps turned into soft ones as boots were taken off by the door to dry, then Rex stepped into your kitchen and wrapped his arms around you, tucking his chin on your shoulder.

You leaned back into him as he pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, giggling when sweater fluff got into his mouth and made him sputter. “Hey.”

“Hey. Cookies?”

“And pizza.“ You looked over your shoulder and kissed his jaw before saying quietly, “Barriss broke up with her. She walked here in the rain.”

“Ah, shit. Poor kid.”

“I’d wait for her to come downstairs before you get changed.”

“Probably a good call.” He moved around you and pulled out the brown sugar and flour and passed both of them to you. “And how was your day?”

“Camrac still hasn’t been fired, so, you know, it wasn’t great.” You grin at his muffled chuckle. “It was fine, nothing unexpected. I’m sure I’ll think of something worthwhile to tell you later.”

He smiled. “Looking forward to it.” He took the mixing bowl from your hands and covered the top with a towel, then put it in the fridge to chill. Then he pulled on the oven mitts and carefully removed the pizza from the oven.

Ahsoka appeared at the entrance to the kitchen, wearing one of your softest sweaters and some of Rex’s shorts, rubbing at her eye.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi Rex.” She walked toward him and tucked herself into his side, his arm tightly wrapped around her shoulders. “Is that pizza?”

“And there’s cookie dough in the fridge.” You sliced the pizza and grabbed some plates. “Movie?”

She nodded. “Movie.”

The three of you arranged yourselves on the couch and got lost in the film. When the pizza and cookie dough were gone, Ahsoka’s head ended up in Rex’s lap, and his head ended up on your shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open as the credits started to roll. “I missed it?”

You snickered and kissed his cheek. “That’s why we picked one we’d all seen before.” You glanced down at the Togruta and smiled softly. “Will you carry her upstairs?”

“Yeah, I’ve got her, you go turn down the bed.”

You crouch down to her level and place a warm hand on her shoulder. “‘Soka?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re gonna take you upstairs.” She started to sit up and open her eyes, but you increased the pressure on her shoulder just barely. “Rex will carry you, baby, just lift your head.”

She did as you instructed and Rex lifted her easily, then they followed you up the stairs. You pulled the covers back on the spare bed, then tucked her in when Rex set her down, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then you plugged in a soft night light before closing the door.

Rex already had the shower running when you entered the en suite bathroom of your room, and you groaned as the eucalyptus scented steam filled the space. “You spoil me.”

“I treat you exactly the way you deserve.”

You both stripped down and stepped into the shower, grateful once again you installed the overhead shower head when you first moved in.

Rex’s hair was easy to wash, and you had him purring for you as you scratched product into his scalp.

He happily returned the favor.

The rain finally stopped as the two of you dried off, changed into pajamas, and slipped into bed. Rex, the living furnace, opened his arms and let you curl into him, your head on his chest. He hummed in contentment as he stroked his fingers up and down your back. Your eyes slowly started to close, and you hummed back.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Your family, all under one roof, safe and dry and warm.

There’s nothing else you could’ve asked for.

[clone-anon]

Can I please get some romantic Rex doing something ordinary with me? Like watching movies or something? Thank you

Hi Anon! I'm going with end of a long week domestic vibes. Hope that's okay!

Rex got everything ready while you finished up at work. He had ordered food because cooking seemed like a tall order after the week you'd both had and it was delivered just a few minutes before he expected you. He stood in front of the couch looking at his work. Popcorn ready, sweet snacks, and some drinks were placed on the table. He answered the door and tipped the delivery driver. Several minutes later you came home, looking wiped, but face lighting up when you saw him.

"What's all this," you asked.

"Holomovie night," he replied. "Easy dinner, easy cleanup," he added, gesturing to the food he was dishing out.

You walked over to him and hugged him while he stood there with a plate of food in each hand. He turned his head slightly to kiss you and whispered, "nothing to do tonight but relax."

You got settled on the couch and turned on one of your favorite movies. You'd both seen it so many times, it had become a comfort movie for both of you. You ate in peace, leaning on each other and laughing at the same dumb jokes as the last time you watched this holo. After finishing with dinner, Rex laid back and pulled you to lay against him. He kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back. He grinned when, while still watching the movie, you grabbed some popcorn and attempted to put it in his mouth. He gently grabbed a piece with his lips and kissed you after eating it. He held you a little closer and smiled to himself.

[watatsumiis]

On The Topic of Dragon Hoards...

Zhongli, no matter how convincingly he may wear his human disguise, is and always has been a dragon at heart.

And he, like most dragons, has a tendency to hoard things.

It's easy not to notice right away, since he tends to keep his belongings tucked away, but once you take note, it's hard to stop seeing them.

Primarily, it's sentimental items, things that have been made for him or gifted to him by those he loves, but once you two have been together a while, you notice that he is definitely giving your gifts preferential treatment.

If you were to look carefully, you'd notice that he's carefully preserved everything you've given him, from letters to meaningless little trinkets, even a scrap piece of paper you drew a diagram on to help get a point across over lunch.

A dragon will hoard things that they deem to be precious and valuable - in this case, the items are all extraordinarily memorable to Zhongli, tied in with the stories of those he cares about. Over time, he adds more and more items relating to you, it's a little sweet, really.

However, if you were to ask Zhongli what the most valuable item in his hoard is, he'll give you a warm, fanged smile and say something along the lines of "Why, it's you, of course, my dear."

[ruisutea]

Dragon bf/husband watching you be a motherly figure to the eggs, taking good care of it.

Watching you patiently caring for each egg taking off things that could potentially hurt them. (*＾＾*)//

[ireadwithmyears]

address the letters: “to the holes in my butterfly wings”

pairing: Kix and GN padawan reader (platonic)

Word count, guys it’s basically 10 K 💀bc apparently I am in capable of writing anything short.

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of blood and injury, medical procedures

summary:

In which, the CMO of Torrent Company discovers that you, a Padawan under his care have been hiding injuries and skipping medical checks, and now must take care of you as you suffer the consequences of your actions.

Also known as

Why you should never hide an injury from Kix. he will find out, and he will drag you off to the medbay so that he can take care of whatever mess you’ve made of yourself, scolding you all the wile.

“Look what I found on my bunk.”

You’re interrupted from eating your sandwich in the Cantina when Fives plops down beside you at the table, setting down a tray of food and waving a pink slip of paper in your face.

You’re about to tell him that “Can’t you see that you’re eating and get this paper out of my face,” when your eyes catch on three words written in bold text across the top of the page.

Mandatory vaccination updates. 

The sandwich, that up until this point has been the absolute centre of your attention, listen, you’re fighting a war and you have to appreciate any opportunity that you get to eat food that isn’t bland ration bars, drops out of your suddenly limp hand as you snatch up the paper, now very interested in the contents.

“When did you get this?” you ask slowly, you’re voice distracted, beginning to chew on your lower lip, already feeling the nervous coil in your stomach.

“When I came back to my bunk after the debriefing we had this afternoon. Apparently everyone got one. I bet you 10 credits that your master is going to pretend that he didn’t see it, and try and avoid it until Kix has to tear apart the ship looking for him and drag him to the medbay.” Fives chuckles.

Master Skywalker’s reputation for trying to avoid the medbay at all costs is widely known throughout Torrent Company..

“Kix is going to have a field day. I’ll give it to general Skywalker, he has some creative hiding places,” he continues, eyes lighting up at the memory of Anakin, half hazardously crammed into a supply closet, folded in an impressive, yet uncomfortable looking position as he forced his unwitting tall limbs to fit in the cramped space.

Unfortunately for Kix, your masters habit of avoiding the medbay whenever possible has rubbed off on you, though, you don’t think it’s for the same reason. Your avoidance stems from a place of fear, and, okay, a stubborn insistence that you can take care of yourself, which yes, definitely like master, like apprentice.

But that also stems from a fear. You’re determined to prove yourself, especially being a young Padawan working with those who are much more experienced than you. You don’t want to risk being taken off the field because of some stupid injury, and letting those who rely on you down, especially your master, who’s always bouncing back and getting up and ready to take on whatever is next regardless of what kind of peril he’s just come out of. You want, you need, to prove that just because you’re a Padawan, you’re not a liability, but an asset. You can be strong and resilient like master Skywalker.

So, you avoid. You dodge and you ignore and you pretend not to notice when the routine medical check dates come and go without your attendance. You know it’s only a matter of time before Kix gets on your ass about it. You’re surprised that you’ve kept it up this long. But, this only bolsters your confidence in being able to avoid another successfully.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant, setting the paper back down on the table before you run off into the crowd.

*

Sure enough, there is an identical slip of paper that’s been placed on your bunk. But conveniently, Jedi master Aayla Secura is going on a diplomatic mission to amid rim planet in a last ditch effort to try and convince them not to secede from the republic during the date that’s listed on the page when you’re scheduled for your vaccinations.

Earlier this morning, master Skywalker had asked if you had wanted to join this mission, saying that it would give you a break from being on the frontlines, and it would be easy enough to arrange, as master Secura would rendezvous with the 501st before she departed.

This morning, you had turned him down, listing several reasons as to why you needed to stay with the 501st. Your troops needed you, diplomatic missions were boring anyways, and you didn’t think that you would be of much help to the experienced and capable master Secura, who was a formidable diplomat in her own right. You didn’t think you would be able to add anything of particular value to the conversation, at least nothing that master Secura wouldn’t be able to say much more eloquently and better.

Now though, the only thing that’s running through your mind is the fear of needles and the dread of going into the medbay and that’s enough to make you reconsider everything you had said.

When you tell master Skywalker that you’ve changed your mind, and would actually like to accompany Aayla on her mission, he’s slightly confused considering you had been so adamant that you were needed here only just a few hours ago. 

But, he knows that as a Jedi, you need diplomatic experience. Experience that, before the war, would be very easy for Padawan’s to come by. He knows that you don’t have nearly as much as you should.

These are unprecedented times, though, and Padawan’s being trained during an active war is not ideal. He wants for you to be well-rounded. He has hope that your future won’t always involve war at the centre of it, and any opportunity that you get to learn how to be a keeper of peace should always be encouraged, especially during these times.

 So he gives in pretty easily, and when master Secura arrives, you happily join her. When the ramp of the ship seals behind you and you’re sitting with her in the cockpit, the warm relief that flows through your bones is palpable. 

“Success,” you think to yourself triumphantly.

*

Your triumph, however glorious it might have felt in the moment, is short-lived.

In spite of the fact that some old injuries, that you honestly thought you had done a pretty good job at taking care of yourself, were starting to aggravate you again, the unexpected joy and relief that weaved itself through the force, openly shared between you and master Secura, surrounded you like a warm blanket, protecting you from feeling the things that hurt you.

The planet you had just visited had agreed to stay with the republic, after a tense three days of debate between its political factions. The victory Was a surprise, considering how vehemently the opposition pushed to secede, but it was not unwelcome.

Aayla’s T-6 shuttle docks in the hanger bay of the much larger 501st transport. As you wait for the doors to open and the ramp to fold down before you, you’re still riding on that high, feeling, for the first time in a long time, the thrill of a success. One that you are unable to feel on the frontlines, because even when your battles result in a victory, you are surrounded by so much death and violence that in the end, you don’t really feel like celebrating. 

You’ll never admit it to your master, but privately, you think to yourself that maybe diplomatic missions aren’t as boring as you thought they were. You were able to help resolve a conflict, peacefully, without even having to brush your fingers against the hilt of your lightsaber, which, nowadays, is becoming more and more of a rare occurrence. But it’s what Jedi do, or at least, what they’re supposed to do, so you have to embrace the gratitude of the experience you just had, and try and take it with you going forward.

Your thoughts are preoccupied with these ideas swirling around your head, so you don’t see him until you’re stepping out onto the ramp of the T-6, descending into the hectic and busy as usual crowds of the hanger bay.

When you do, though, you stop dead, and your heart begins to race. 

Shit.

Directly in front of you, at the bottom of the ramp, stands Kix.

One look at his expression, and your stomach flips.

His lips are set in a thin, unreadable line, his brow creased as he observes you with pinpoint focus. Stern, brown eyes observe your every movement. There’s no question that the second you step off the ramp, he’s going to pounce on you like a cat seizing a mouse. 

He stands at attention, body forced into an unbending straight line, such positions you mostly see on the shiny’s, new troopers who are freshly trained during their first days out on the field. His hands are placed on his hips, the position that he assumes before he’s about to give someone, it’s usually your master who you’ve seen it directed at, the lecture of their life.

“Keep moving,” your brain supplies. “Act nonchalant, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be fine.”

You feel your feet hit solid ground, and your speed picks up, all along, your brain is screaming at you to move. It’s weird how now that he’s standing in front of you, every injury you’ve accumulated over the past weeks is beginning to hit you, all comfort and protection that the force has been giving you to keep you going rapidly vanishing with each step you take.

The uncomfortable angle that your shoulder is sitting at, the pulling of stitches in your leg as you increase your speed. It throbs and aches with sudden abandon. But your fists clench, and you do your best not to falter under Kix’s unwavering scrutiny, just knowing that he’s looking for any flicker of weakness, any sign of pain that registers on your face.

“Just keep going, and maybe, you’ll be able to slip past...”

He steps in front of you, reaching an arm out to easily intercept your path. He says your name, in a tone that breaches absolutely no room for trying to ignore it.

You jump, startled in spite of yourself. He’s effectively got you cornered, and seeing that there’s no way out of this, Your nerves begin to skyrocket, raising like the sound of alarm bells in your head. You look up, eyes meeting his unwaveringly stern expression, And suddenly, you wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

He looks down at you, and he must see something in your disposition that belies your true feelings, because though his face remains set, his eyes somewhat soften, and when he next speaks, his voice is quiet but firm.

“Come with me, please. I need to see you in the medbay.” Though he’s phrased it as a request, you know that it is an order, and one that you must follow.

As a medic for the GAR, and this is something that you’ve heard him say to many a complaining troopers being escorted to the medbay when they don’t want to go, it is well within his rights to exercise such authority and make these orders. Because when it comes to the health and safety of every 501st personnel, whether you’re a Jedi general, commander, or Padawan, Kix immediately outranks you.

You look down at the floor, suddenly finding the marks that are speckled across it very interesting, and mumble a defeated and quiet “Yes sir.” 

When he turns, and you hesitate to follow, he lets out a gentle sigh, moving to place a hand on the small of your back. His voice is low, but reassuring as he ushers you forward.

“Come on, kid, you’re okay,” he breathes, and in spite of the fact that you’re still thinking that jumping out of an airlock would be better than this, your feet, still unwilling, but the slightest bit reassured, begin to move.

*

Coric giving you a subtle pitying glance as he’s reading over a patient’s chart when Kix escorts you into the medbay makes you want to vomit.

Between the two medics,  Kix has the reputation of being a hardass because he’s the CMO. Make no mistake, you do not want to get on either of their bad sides. But, given the choice between the two right now, you think you’re more equipped to handle Coric, who can usually be counted on to soften the blow a bit, with enough pleading glances and apologies.

Your eyes flit to the door that you’ve just passed through, because stupidly, your brain is still trying to make the calculations that if you can just duck out of Kix’s grasp for two seconds, you’d be able to make a run for it.

Unbeknownst to you, however, both medics have been carefully observing your every movement since you’ve entered. Coric, remaining completely calm and at ease, rises to his feet, moving swiftly to stand in the doorway in several long strides. He casually leans against the frame, arms folded.

“Don’t even think about it, baby Jedi. Your master has attempted the same thing you are considering, and he has always failed,” he says, keeping his voice light and non-threatening, making it clear that you need to give up on your fantasy of bolting out of here, but also not trying to scare you off..

You’re just beginning to wonder how the kriff they were able to read you so easily, with one covert glance determining that you were about to bolt when Kix removes his hand from the small of your back, instead, fingers coming to gently grip your shoulder.

The change in his hold is obvious. He is fully prepared for if you try to run. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, in what you interpret as a warning not to. 

Unfortunately, he’s just touched on an injury, you’re not entirely sure what you did, but you messed up your shoulder the last time you were on the field, and even the slight pressure elicits a sharp intake of breath that you’re unable to stop from escaping your lips, and that immediately has the attention of both medics laser focussed on you.

Kix’s anticipation evaporates and quickly melts into concern. Carefully, so carefully, he turns you to face him, keen eyes sharp as they analyze your face.

“Hey,” he calls softly, waiting for you to look at him. “Tell me where it hurts,” he says, so gently that it makes your eyes burn with shame. You look down at your feet.

“That’s uh... that’s, a loaded question,” you admit sheepishly, trying to keep your tone light and joking, in spite of the fact that now that you’re thinking about it, the list of injuries you’ve sustained without reporting to the medbay is a lengthy one, and might make Kix have a stroke.

Kix lets out a controlled, slow breath, eyes momentarily finding the ceiling as he silently begs the stars to give him strength. 

“Kaysh Mirsh solus,” he mutters to himself.

You’ve heard Kix toss that phrase around the medbay on multiple occasions, and though you’re uncertain of what it actually means, he usually brings it out when one of his brothers has done something that he would consider incredibly stupid, which is often.

Coric makes a noise of agreement. “It appears that our stupidly self-sacrificing general has passed on his stupid self sacrificing behaviour onto his apprentice,” he groans. “Will we ever know a day of peace?” 

Kix looks back down at you, his expression calm and restrained. “Come on, then, let’s see what we’re dealing with here,” moving his hand to your uninjured shoulder, he steers you both further into the medbay.

*

Your eyes don’t leave the ground, but you can hear the sound of a privacy curtain being pulled shut around the cubicle that Kix has brought you to. 

When an eerily familiar pink slip of paper is being held up in front of your downcast eyes, you cringe, Arms wrapping around yourself in defence

You can’t even pretend that you haven’t seen it before, because the words mandatory vaccination updates have been circling around your brain the whole time you were out on your last mission.

“Do you know why the GAR enforces these?” Kix begins, and his voice is too measured and calm. 

You lift a brow, questioning. Does he seriously expect you to answer this? Isn’t the answer obvious? 

“Uh... so that we don’t get sick?” You answer, uncertain as to what he’s getting at.

He nods, his face displaying a slight flicker of approval. “Yes, that is one reason as to why, and it’s an acceptable one,” he acknowledges. His frown deepens as he continues. “However, one must look at the much larger picture, at every personnel aboard this ship. The most important reason why mandatory vaccinations are enforced is so that we can avoid many people getting sick and spreading illness to the rest of the crew, so that we may remain fully functional and operational, continuing to serve and protect the people of the republic.”

You squirm beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. You’re starting to see where he’s going with this, and it’s incredibly discomforting.

“I would’ve thought, that as a Jedi, you would be able to more easily see this bigger picture than most others,” he observes mildly. “After all, I know, and I’m sure everyone who spends a considerable amount of time with you can see that there is so much compassion and care for others within your very nature.”

His voice is so genuine, laced with such real kindness in his tone that it makes your eyes sting. Your heart constricts, because he’s just pointed out something that you hadn’t even considered in your selfish haste to avoid this.

By avoiding your vaccinations, you have put every member of the 501st who works with you in danger.

Your arms wrap  tighter around yourself, and you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but at the pristine white floor beneath your feet.

Kix senses that he’s hit a mark, and his voice gentles considerably. “I also understand that you are young, and still learning to see the bigger picture and how your actions can affect those around you.”

“I, I didn’t, I was scared and I just I didn’t think about...” your voice trembles as you try to answer, tumbling out in a rush of words that race as quickly as your heart. 

“I understand, and it is perfectly reasonable for you to feel that way,” he keeps his voice level and measured. “However,” he continues, and you know what he’s about to say even before he says it. “We still have to face the things that scare us. If you had simply told me how you were feeling, we would have figured out a way to navigate it.” His face is reassuring when you dare to glance up from the floor that you’ve been resolutely staring at for this whole conversation.

“We still will figure out the best way to proceed. However, these vaccination updates are very low on my priority list of concerns when it comes to you, compared to this,” and he holds up a datapad, displaying medical records with your name typed neatly across the top.

The last several appointment entries are highlighted in red, indicating that you did not attend any of them. 

“Do I need to remind you that these appointments are not optional. Any member of Torrent Company who goes out on the field must report to the medbay upon return for examination, as well as attend our regular medical checks to ensure that you are fit for active duty.” It’s clear from the tone of his voice that this is a lecture that he is very practised in delivering.

You lift your head, finally looking directly at him. He’s already made you admit a fear that you desperately wanted to keep to yourself. You try and summon what remains of your dignity. 

“What do you want me to say, Kix?” There’s a hint of defiance in your voice. 

“Do you want me to admit that I avoided these because I had injuries that I didn’t want you to know about? Because yes, the truth is that I did.” Your eyes level with his as you try to make him understand. 

“I was scared of the medical procedures, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” You snap, not particularly annoyed with him, but more annoyed at the fact that your answers sound so stupid out loud. 

“But I was more scared of the fact that you were probably going to take me off the field, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t let that happen. My master was relying on me. Everyone was relying on me, and I couldn’t let them down.” You try to shrug off his concern with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Besides, I’ve been doing fine,” you say evasively.

Kix does not rise to the bate of your seeming anger. He’s much too practised and controlled to let it affect him. He also has the uncanny ability to look at someone, and see everything, read through their feelings, whether they’ve been acknowledged or not, and understand them. So, even though you’re trying to push him away, with what at first glance appears to be frustration, underneath it all, he can tell that it’s just as plainly  fear.

He meets your storm filled eyes unflinchingly, levelling you with a look that is equal parts stern and unwavering, and equal parts concerned and filled with compassion. It makes your insides twist with guilt, and you want to look away, but you can’t bring yourself to as he speaks, his voice calm but steely.

“Are you fine?” he asks, an eyebrow raising as he tilts his head to look at you, his gaze clinical, assessing, even as you just stand there in front of him.

. “I already know that there’s something wrong with your shoulder. But aside from that, I’ve been observing you since you got off your transport. The way you move is slow and careful, not at all like the usual way you dash around the ship. Even now, you’re hesitating to put much weight on your right leg.” He ticks off the things he’s noticed on his fingers like a list.

“Apart from the fact that skipping these mandatory appointments have consequences. If you had kept this up, I would’ve had to bring this to our superiors, that includes the Jedi council,” he gives you a pointed look, even the mention of the high Council makes you shiver. in your experience, whenever you and your master have been summoned to speak with the council, it’s always to be reprimanded, and never good.

. “You could have been Court-martialed,” he says, knowing that his words will hit the severity of the situation home.  

You falter, stepping back as you feel your eyes go wide. “Court-martialed?” you breathe, feeling the blood draining from your face. 

He gently takes your arm, guiding you to sit on a bed as he continues, voice softening. “It is very clear that you are hiding injuries, and though I can understand why, in premise, You did this, the reality is that this will begin to affect your performance in battle. It will not just affect you. You will put yourself, as well as the entirety of the people you are leading, in danger. People could get hurt.  You could get hurt. Because you would be putting not just yourself, but others, in unnecessary danger, your ability to be in the position of a commander could be called into serious  question by your superiors, and for good reason” 

As much as he keeps his voice low and calm, you can sense that he’s disappointed in the way that you’ve handled yourself. Your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, forcing the tears that prick at the back of your eyes to not fall. You hate disappointing people, and the fact that you’ve managed to disappoint Kix, one of the kindest people you know, makes you want to curl up into a ball and never show your face in public again.

“And that, the safety of yourself, and everyone aboard this ship, is my priority. It is much more important to me than having to report to any superior. The fact that you hold your safety, and by extension, the safety of  those around you, with such blatant disregard, is what concerns me the most, and that is what I need you to understand.” 

There’s a certain gravity in his voice that you’ve never heard before, but it slams into your chest and hits you like a ton of bricks. The implications of what you’ve been doing, of what could have happened to those around you, to his brothers, because of your inability to face your fears begin to swirl around your head with a rapidity that makes your heart race. 

These thoughts come unbidden, and too fast for you to process. The tears, that you’ve been so desperately trying to push back, spring free and begin to fall down your cheeks, unprompted, slowly, and silently. You don’t have time to stop them from coming.

Kix knows that he’s been very direct, and very blunt with you, deciding that this would be the only way to get through to you. He hates having to do it, though. Kix considers himself to be a fairly good judge of character, and he knows that you have such a caring, gentle heart and strong presence wherever you go. So, watching you break in front of him like this pains him.

Your breath hitches in an unsteady gasp as you look up at him, tears blurring your vision. 

“I’m sorry, Ori’vod,” your lip trembles as your voice breaks, wanting to curl in on yourself. “Ni ceta,” you get out in barely a choked whisper.

But he hears you, and it breaks him. 

You’ve never referred to him as ori’vod before, and the idea that you consider him as such, as a big brother, awakens his protective, instinctive nature to gather you close and keep you safe from harm. 

His Vod, mostly his batchmate, Jesse, calls it his mother hen instincts.

He can’t help it, though. Your voice, sounding so much smaller than he’s ever heard it, trembling and filled with tears, has broken what’s left of his resolve, and gently, very gently, mindful of the fact that you’re injured, he takes you into his arms, holding you close to him. Your head buries against his shoulder, and he easily cradles you there, feeling every sharp intake of breath as you cry.

“Oh, adika, shh,” he soothes, hand coming up to gently stroke your hair as he continues to speak softly to you. “You’re okay, I promise, everything is going to be alright. I’ve got you, we are going to sort this out.”

*

“Well,” he says, reading over the results of the medical scan he’s just performed. Would you believe me if I told you that a dislocated shoulder is the least of your concerns?” 

Your eyes find the ceiling, and you exhale a slow breath before asking, “how bad?”

He keeps his voice neutral as he relays the results of the scan to you. “According to your last medical check, you were diagnosed with Iron deficiency anemia, not incredibly uncommon, what with our limited access to rations and food with the proper nutrients,” his brow creases as he continues. “However, preliminary scans indicate that your haemoglobin levels haven’t much improved.”

He gives you a look.“You have been taking the supplement you were prescribed?” he asks, in a way that makes you suspicious that he already knows that the answer is no.

You avoid looking at him. “I was, but they kept making my stomach feel queasy all day, so I stopped.”  

Kix Lets out a long suffering sigh. “An issue that we easily could have rectified by changing your treatment plan if you had just let us know,” he scolds. “Nonetheless, I’d like to do a blood test to get exact confirmation of those levels and see how bad the numbers are so that we can Start getting them back up to baseline.” 

Your stomach does a flip and you cringe silently at the mention of a blood test.

Kix continues, consulting the scan results that are displayed on a datapad. “You’ve got untreated burns on your fingers.” He raises a curious eyebrow at you and your cheeks flush.

“They weren’t entirely untreated, I put them under running water,” you try to argue. The unimpressed look he gives you stops you dead in your tracks.

“It wasn’t entirely my fault,” you defend. “I was fixing one of the starfighters that got hit during our last airstrike. I got R2 to help me with the repairs but he wasn’t listening to my instructions. He crossed two of the wrong wires and caused the circuitboard to spark.”

“And that is why you should never ask R2 for help,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Those burns weren’t given time to heal, and the fact that you’re constantly wielding a lightsaber has exacerbated them. I will apply a burn ointment to them that should take away the pain and speed the process of healing.” 

He fixes you with a look.  

“The most concerning thing is The blaster wound on the front of your right  calf. Really, vod, you should know that injuries being treated and stitched up on the field, especially when not done by a medic, always should be looked over by a medic as soon as possible, due to the unsanitary environment that they were performed in.”

“Tup did his best to stitch it,” you say, feeling the need to defend the brother who, in spite of the fact that he was not a medic, sutured you up as you took cover from separatist battle droids.

“I don’t doubt that he did. I was the instructor who took every single one of the troopers on this ship through their mandatory medical courses, and I did not let them pass without proving that they were adequately able to handle emergency first aid on the field. However, it still remains that you’ve picked up an infection, and to treat it, the sutures will have to be removed, the wound reopened, and extraction of the infected tissue, as well as a course of both IV and oral antibiotics to clear up anything that remains.”

You stare at him, your eyes growing wide with horror as he explains. “How?” You ask, alarmed.

He senses your nerves and leans forward, taking your hand and running his thumb along the back of it reassuringly. “This is a surgical procedure, performed under general anesthesia.” 

You flinch at his words, and your fingers tighten around his with anxiety, needing something to hold onto. 

“I know that sounds scary, especially if you’ve never been put under before. But I promise, this is a fairly common operation. Me and Coric will both be here making sure that you’re okay the whole time.” he continues to stroke his thumb along the backs of your knuckles.

“Let’s take this one step at a time, though. We’ll take care of the things that are manageable, first,” he says, giving you an encouraging smile.

*

“Hey uh...” you say nervously, watching with anxiety fluttering in your stomach as Kix ties a band just above your elbow, prepping you for the blood draw. The way the band tightens, restricts  and squeezes around your arm Makes you feel trapped. You hate it.

“I have... I’ve had, issues in the past when it comes to these,” you say awkwardly, not knowing how to explain.

Kix only looks up at you, raising a perceptive brow. “Are you referring to your predisposition of fainting whenever a blood draw is performed?” he asks, completely unfazed. 

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows in questioning. “Don’t worry, Coric already has this listed in your file. I’m going to get you to lie down when we do it.”

He has the sensitivity and grace not to mention the fact that he also knows this because he walked into the medbay to find Coric absolutely tearing into a junior medic for letting you leave too soon after you had gotten a blood draw, resulting in you crumpling to the floor in a faint right outside of the medbay doors. 

At your continued staring, he adds, his voice softening. “It’s a normal reaction, that likely is exacerbated because of your low haemoglobin levels. There’s nothing wrong with you, Vod’ika.” he reassures, gently guiding you to lay down on the bed. “Now, just lay down for me, and we’ll get this over with quickly, and if you faint, you faint. It happens, no big deal, I’ll be right here regardless.”  

And because you’re you, you do faint.

The needle itself is always not as bad as you anticipate it being. The Sting, though prominent,  is small and quick and over before you have time to fixate on it. 

It’s only when he’s pressing a cotton swab into the crook of your arm, encouraging you to keep it in place while he puts a Band-Aid over top, that you register the familiar feeling of drowsiness, vision blurring and ears beginning to ring, that always comes before you pass out.

You think that you might give him some indication, some warning, because he’s removing your hand from where it’s been pressing against the cotton round, replacing it with his own, much more steady one. Everything around you is muffled, and it’s jarring, but in a way that is too far away from your immediate concerns to really react to it.

When you come to, he’s pressing a cool, damp cloth to the back of your neck, other hand gently stroking hair away from your forehead. His voice fades back into your consciousness, a stream of gentle, soothing words as your eyes flutter open.

The feeling of the cloth cools your heated skin, and the hand gently running through your hair brings your senses back to focus, grounding you.

“Easy, adika, i’m right here, you’re safe,” he brushes his fingers against your cheek, and when you react, leaning into his touch, he gives you a small smile. “That’s it, there we go, you’re back. Everything’s good,” he soothes, gently stalling your movement when you attempt to sit up.

“Not right now, vod, stay down for a few more minutes. I’ve already got the blood work running through the scanner, and we should have its results quickly, okay.” You give him a small nod, still not really having the energy to do much else. You close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you come back to yourself, and when the scanner beeps, indicating that it completed its diagnostics, you jump slightly.

Kix moves over to check it as you slowly sit up. “Okay, so, your numbers are definitely not nearly where they should be he says, clearly unimpressed.

“But, Once we have taken care of your more serious injuries, will start you with an iron infusion delivered through an IV before transitioning back to pills. Don’t worry, we’ll have you on a much smaller dosage so that we can hopefully circumvent the discomfort you had in your stomach,” he says with optimism, which makes you feel slightly better about the fact that he’s just mentioned an IV. You’re not given much time to fixate on it, though, because he’s already turning away from the scanner, moving back to you.

“Let’s not worry about that right now, though. We have enough problems having to deal with the mess That you’ve made of yourself. I will do my best to resist calling you a di’kut as much as possible,” he says, hands on his hips, and in spite of yourself, it actually makes you laugh.

*

You didn’t realize how sore and irritated the burns on your hands were until you couldn’t hold back the audible sigh of relief that fell from your lips as soon as Kix began applying the burn cream to them. The pain instantly vanished, leaving a pleasant, cooling sensation behind. He wrapped small bacta patches around your injured fingers, explaining that it would make sure that the healing process was unimpeded by the outside environment.

That was easy, quick, painless. 

Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. As soon as Kix touches it, as gentle as he can be, it flares with pain, and your muscles tense, which just makes it worse. 

“I don’t know how you’ve been functioning with this for as long as you have,” he comments dryly. When his fingers press against the bone, assessing the damage with a practised familiarity, you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

“Haar’chak,” you grit out, as behind you, Kix preps a syringe with local anesthetic. 

“Which one of my di’kut brothers taught you curse words in Mandoa?” he asks, beginning to disinfect the injection site.

You flinch at the cold and your cheeks flush. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to hear that. I can’t tell you that, I made a promise.” 

“Did you now?” he asks, fighting the amused smirk that plays on his lips. “Well, whoever it was, you might as well put your skills that they taught you to use.”

You look at him from over your shoulder, eyebrows raising in confusion.

He explains, “I need to give you an injection of local anaesthetic so that it takes the edge off of resetting your shoulder correctly. I know those aren’t your favourite , so, I am making a deal with you. Let me do this, and I give you free rein to throw whatever Mandoa insult my brothers have taught you at me, no consequences. Is that fair?”

The unimpressed look you’re giving at the syringe turns to surprise, then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face and you nod, quickly looking away from it. “Deal,” you accept, your voice still shaky with nerves but determined.

“Okay, deep breath for me,” He waits for you to inhale. “Perfect, now, on the exhale, give me that insult with all of your might. Ready?”

He waits for you to nod, then prompts you to exhale as he administers the anaesthetic into the back of your shoulder.

“Osi’yaim, that hurt, you di’kut,” what should be just a little pinch to your already injured shoulder makes you cry out the words, and you swear you can hear the familiar sound of Coric laughing from the other side of the medbay.

Your cheeks flush, you did not intend to be that loud. But you don’t apologize, either, and Kix only gives you a rueful grin, nodding in understanding.  

As you wait for the anaesthetic to settle, Kix warns, “I’m gonna be honest, kid, because of how long you’ve left this injury to sit, even with the anesthetic, setting it is still going to hurt.” 

You close your eyes, grimacing, before nodding with a sigh. “Do your worst,” you say, bracing yourself.

He lays a reassuring hand on your uninjured shoulder. “I need you relaxed, adika,” he says gently. “Trust me, it will only hurt more if you tense like that,” he continues, gently encouraging your shoulder downward with his hand.

“Easy, now. I want you to give me some good deep breath’s. In,” he inhales deeply, holding for a few seconds, “and out,” he lets his breath go in a controlled, slow stream of air.

He waits for you to copy, giving you a few breaths to settle into it as he prepares himself. “Perfect, just like that, keep it up, you’ve got this,” he keeps up the stream of encouraging words as carefully, but firmly, he rotates your arm, guiding your dislocated shoulder back into its proper place with one precise movement.

The sudden flare of pain, even dulled as it is by the anesthetic, takes your breath away momentarily, your vision instantly blurring with tears. When it clears,Kix has shifted to standing in front of you, gently wiping them away with his thumbs.

“Well done, vod’ika, you were so brave,” his words make you want to cry more, because you didn’t think you were brave. You thought that being brave meant confidence, at all times, and not letting other people see your vulnerability. You can’t fully understand it, but, now, you’re beginning to think that maybe your initial idea of bravery was wrong.

Your lip wobbles as you speak, “W what now?” you look up at him with wide, still watery eyes.

He gently strokes your hair. “Now, I’m going to get Coric, and you,” he playfully taps your nose, “are going to take a much-needed nap, if the bags under your eyes are any indication, while we take care of that leg wound.” 

*

It sounds simple enough. 

Kix explains the procedure while Coric preps you for surgery, making sure all your vitals are stable. As he wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, he tells you that that’s essentially his job while he’s in here. Throughout the surgery, he will monitor your vitals and make sure that they remain at safe levels. 

“I’m going to remove the sutures, clean the wound, remove the infected tissue, pack the wound with saline soaked dressings, then bandage it back up so that it can heal. It goes without saying that you’re going to be off the field for at least a week. You’ll need to stay here so that we can continue to monitor your recovery as well as change the dressings often. You will also need to undergo a course of IV antibiotics to kill off any lingering infection. This will also give us time to get your haemoglobin levels back up with an infusion.”

Your eyes close tightly as anxiety knots your stomach. “Oh, force, a week? But, my master needs me,” you protest.

When your eyes open again, both medics are fixing you with equally stern looks. “Your master needs you to be safe, and healthy,” says Coric, frowning, as he carefully attaches a pulse oximeter to one of your fingers. 

“If you want to be back on the field as soon as possible, you will take this week of recovery. If you want to argue with me about it, I will make it longer. A week is the absolute minimum,” Kix says, arms folded across his chest, wearing his signature “i’m the chief medical officer, you have no authority here,” expression.

You visibly deflate, reminding yourself that you pick and choose your battles, and picking and choosing a battle with two medics who are very competent at dealing with very stubborn Jedi would be a very stupid idea. 

You can’t help yourself, and in spite of the fact that you shouldn’t, you stare as Kix preps your wrist for an IV line.

Sensing you’re mounting anxiety as your eyes nervously flit around, watching  Kix’s Every move, Coric gently takes your other hand, squeezing when your eyes don’t immediately look at him. When you finally tear your eyes away from what Kix is doing, Coric is wearing a mischievous smile on his face. “So, Vod’ika, who taught you how to curse in Mandoa?” he asks, raising a curious brow.

You only scoff, rolling your eyes. “Kix already tried to find out. What makes you think that I’m going to tell that secret to you?”

“I’ve already got my suspicions. My moneys on Echo or Fives.” he gives you a wounded look, “I thought you would tell me, because I’m obviously your favourite.”

Kix uses this conversation to quickly insert the IV into a vein on your wrist. Reacting to the small pinch, your fingers instinctively tighten around Coric’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“You’re definitely my favourite now,” you grumble, giving Kix a sidelong glare.

He gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Vod, i’m going to run the medication through the line now. It will act quickly, and when you wake up, this will be all done with.” 

You nod, biting your lip nervously. Coric notices, giving your hand another gentle squeeze. “Hey, kid, I know you’ve heard Kix say kaysh mirsh solus all the time. Do you know what it means?” 

You look at him with curiosity, shaking your head.

“Well, essentially it means they are stupid or foolish. But, the literal translation is even more direct .” Coric gives you a conspiratorial smile.

“What is it?” You ask as he leans forward. 

“The literal translation means their braincell is lonely,” he says, completely serious.

You feel a smile pulling up the corners of your lips and a surprised laugh falls from them. 

You feel the medication beginning to enter your system, but you’re so busy laughing that you can’t bring yourself to care. “You better not be bullshitting me,” you threaten,“or I...” you let out a yawn.

“I swear to the force, I,” your eyes begin to flutter and you yawn again, shrugging.

“I’ll think about it later,” you mumble sleepily, before promptly passing out, smile still lighting up your face.

*

Your leg hurts.

That’s the first thing you become aware of as Kix is gently encouraging you to open your eyes.

“Come on, adika, open your eyes for me,” he says  softly, fingers gently brushing against your cheek to bring you back to awareness.

“But it hurts, and I wanna go back to sleep,” you wine, blinking sleepily up at him. 

“Ni ceta, vod’ika,” he soothes, fingers gently caressing your forehead in an apology. “I know it hurts, and you can go back to sleep soon, I promise,” 

He glances at something that you can’t see, giving a small nod,“Vitals look good, the anaesthesia is wearing off nicely, and it doesn’t appear to have affected them too much. Let’s up that IV dosage,” Kix speaks to Coric, who moves to adjust your IV out of your eyeline.

Your leg throbs, and you let out a stifled whimper, hand reaching down, trying to at least find the source of your pain when Kix catches it in his, gently stalling your movements. “Let’s leave that alone for now, vod’ika. Coric is just increasing your pain med intake, that will make it better. Then you can sleep,” 

At the continued expression of pain on your face, he lets go of your hand, fingers gently playing with your hair as he instructs, “nice and easy, adika, deep breath‘s for me, everything’s okay.” 

You don’t believe him at first, but slowly, things become okay. The pain quickly fades and dulls , breathing becomes easier, and your eyes begin to flutter. All the while, Kix continues holding his vigil at your bedside, fingers continuing to gently run through your hair until you fall into a natural sleep.

*

When you properly wake up next, the first thing you notice is that your leg doesn’t hurt anymore.

Whatever pain meds Kix has got you hooked up to are very effective, and your lips pull into a relieved smile. 

The second thing you notice, when you glance around to get your bearings, is the face of your very concerned captain, Rex, at your bedside. You blink slowly, yawning. Although the anaesthetic has worn off, the pain meds still have you feeling like you’re in a fog, and your brain is working pretty slowly.

“When did you get here?” you ask, confused.

“I came straight here after you never reported to the bridge for today’s debriefing. The general said that you would be back today, and it’s unlike you to miss or forget about meetings,” he explains, looking at you, relieved to see you awake, but a flicker of concern still lingering in his eyes.

“Osik, sorry, Rex, I got myself into a bit of a bind over here,” you gesture to the IV that you’re hooked up to, chuckling a little.

“So I heard, don’t worry about it, kid. There wasn’t much to report, anyways.” His head tilts, and he raises a questioning eyebrow.“Who taught you how to curse in Mandoa, vod’ika?” he asks, keeping his voice light.

If you weren’t under the influence of pretty heavy duty pain medication‘s, you would have restraint, you would have thought before you opened your mouth. But for Rex, it was his lucky day.

you smirk, “good old Hardcase taught me everything I know,” you say with pride, smiling fondly at the memory.

Rex carefully files that information away so that he can scold Hardcase for that once he leaves. But he carefully keeps his face neutral.

His face grows serious. “Kix told me about all the medical appointments you’ve missed and the injuries that you’ve been covering up,” his voice is stern, every bit the commanding officer that he is in front of the troops. It makes you nervous, and you swallow, looking away from him.

“I swear to the force, if you ever pull something like that again, I will find out about it, and I’ll drag you to the medbay myself, even if it means chasing you around the ship and stunning you if I have to. do you realize how much danger you were in? How much danger you put others in? That was extremely reckless of you, commander. I’m very disappointed in your actions,  and it will not happen again, do you understand?”

Your hazy memory recalls the conversation you had with Kix earlier, about this very thing, and for some reason, it hits even harder seeing the disappointment, worry and concern etched on the face of the normally composed captain.

Without prompting, you find yourself bursting into tears. 

Later, you’ll blame the pain meds on your inability to keep a grip on your emotions. But right now, all you can do is think about the people, the brothers, you could have hurt, the things that could’ve happened because of you, and the tears just fall down your face, streaming from your eyes, falling down your cheeks, into your ears, dampening your hair.

.“I I’m sorry Captain I I didn’t I,” you gasp out, trying to explain, but your brain is still foggy, only clinging onto the hazy images of loss and pain due to your inability to act fast enough.

There’s a reason why people are convinced that Kix has eyes on the back of his head. Working as the highest ranking medic in the 501st has trained him to be hyper observant of all of his patients, even if he isn’t at their bedside. 

So, even though he’s been taking the time to update your file on a datapad, unbeknownst to either you or Rex, he’s also been watching you like a hawk, and the minute you begin to show that you’re overwhelmed, he’s swooping in on the two of you, protective mother hen mode fully activated by the tears falling down your cheeks.

He steps in front of you, broad shoulders immediately blocking your view of your commanding officer. “Captain,” he says, and his voice is still respectful, but there’s a hard edge beneath it, something stern that you haven’t heard before, even during the worst of him lecturing you.

“You are causing undue stress to my patient, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir,” he continues, physically ushering Rex to the door.

More quietly, out of your earshot, he says,“I have already harshly reprimanded the commander. Trust me, this experience will ensure that the lesson will not be forgotten.  Now, if you want to be of use, get the general and bring him to me, please. I need to speak with him. Between you and me, Rex, I’m blaming this ordeal on him.” 

Rex begins to make an objection, but  Kix is already turning away, folding his arms. “I don’t care if you have to drag him out of council meetings. His Padawan is more important,” he shoots back, before quickly moving back to your side, all of his hard lines instantly fading at the sight of your tear streaked face.

He’s all gentleness and soft reassurances uttered as he cups your face, wiping away your tears. When you struggle into a sitting position, falling against his chest as your arms clumsily reach for him, his arms easily pull you close to him and you sob, trying to explain.

“Kix, I, I didn’t mean to, I never wanted to hurt anyone,” you whisper, clutching at him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, wanting to disappear, feeling his body shift, one hand splayed out, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles, the other coming up to cradle your head, holding you against his warmth, sheltering you.

“Oh, adika, shh, I know. You didn’t hurt anyone, vod’ika, nothing happened,” he coos, tightening his arms around you. Lips press against your hair briefly, and you continue to cry, letting your emotions run their course as he cradles you to him, gently rocking you back-and-forth, as if you were a much smaller child.  

In this moment, you certainly feel like you are, and it’s comforting, the way he holds and settles you against him , making gentle shushing noises and speaking in low, soothing tones, the words eventually losing their meaning as sleep, yet again, gently pulls at your consciousness.

The last thing you’re aware of is him gently guiding you to lie back down, another medic, you think it’s Coric, passing him a freshly warmed blanket that he tucks around you, and a hand gently brushing through your hair as you drift back to sleep, your storm settled and calmed by his words and his presence.

*

Anakin Skywalker had been in meetings with the Jedi high Council all day, was running on his 3rd cup of caff, and still found himself stifling a yawn every five minutes. So, when Rex silently slipped into the room, politely interrupting the meeting to request that Anakin report to the medbay, he instinctively rolled his eyes, grumbling that he would go later. 

But when Rex stated that this wasn’t actually about him, and was in regards to his Padawan, Anakin was out of his seat in an instant, hastily making his excuses to the council before leaving the room, legs carrying him to the medbay faster than he ever had moved there before.

He doesn’t even stop to look as behind him, Rex calls to a group of troopers in a booming voice, “Hardcase, get Over here right now,  you di’kut, I need to talk to you regarding professionalism when it comes to working with young Padawan’s .”

When he’s escorted into a cubicle, his eyes grow wide with alarm at the sight of you, peacefully asleep, but your face looks exhausted and worn out. You’re hooked up to an IV and monitors, there’s a thick bandage that’s been secured to the bottom half of your right leg.

Kix keeps his voice low and quiet, so as not to disturb you, but he fixes your master with a hard look as he takes him through an overview of your current health status.

“Iron deficiency anemia, burns, a dislocated shoulder, a blaster wound that had to be surgically operated on due to an untreated infection that had grown quite severe and needed to be manually removed, as well as several muscle strains and bruised ribs that can be healed with proper rest.” 

His mouth falls open at the growing list, but Kix only folds his arms, continuing to speak. “General, sir, your Padawan looks to you with the highest regard, and you lead the way by example. All of these issues could have been caught much earlier and treated without having to deal with all this,” he gestures at everything you’re hooked up to.

“This behaviour was learned, and when I pressed, I found that at the root of the problem was fear of disappointing you and letting you down,” he waits for these words to sink in, and when they do, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi general who is known for his strength and recklessness on the field, hangs his head with shame, eyes finding the floor and refusing to look at Kix directly.

His meaning is clear, you are his Padawan, and as your master, it’s his responsibility to set a good example for you, and in this regard, watching pain medication flow through the IV line attached to your wrist, he knows he has failed to do so.

“So, just maybe, the next time you decide that are mandatory medical checks are optional and you can manage on your own, maybe just, consider this,” Kix gestures to you, still deeply asleep.

Before your master can respond, not that he really has any words to do so, Kix turns on his heel, quickly exiting the room before he can be reprimanded for speaking to his superior that way, not that he really cares, anyway.

If he had stayed, though, he would have seen Anakin tentatively move to your side, gently sitting on the edge of your bed as he strokes back your hair and adjusts the blankets that are tucked around you, properly shamefaced as he looks down at you and says in a voice that is soft and rarely heard coming out of him, “I’m sorry, kiddo, this one’s on me.”

*

“And this,” says Kix, quickly injecting the third and final mandatory vaccination into your arm, “is your ticket out of here.”

The week of recovery has come and gone, And you have finally been cleared to head back onto the field, as long as you continue to follow a regimen of oral antibiotics for the next week, and, more excitingly in your opinion, get out of the medbay.

“There you go, you did it,” Fives, who’s been sitting across from you, happily agreeing to be your emotional support/cheerleader, ready with a damp cloth if you need it, does a little celebratory dance that makes you laugh, even as Kix, sensing that you’re feeling unsteady, gets you to lay down.

Fives gently places the cool cloth against your skin, and it’s enough to ground you, pulling you back from the edge.

“That’s it, Vod’ika, well done, you did great,” Kix says encouragingly, giving your shoulder a warm squeeze. “Now, wait 15 minutes, and as long as you’re feeling back to normal, you can get out of here,” he smiles down at you, patting your head affectionately before moving out of the cubicle.

As soon as he’s gone, Fives liens in conspiratorially, face lighting up with mischievousness sparkling in his eyes. “Hey, kid, I bet you 10 credits that I could easily sneak you out right now and we could make this 15 minutes go a lot faster,” he grins.

In spite of the fact that you smile back at him and laugh lightly, you give your head a small shake and throw a cautious look over your shoulder.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been here for a whole week, and the biggest thing I’ve learned is that  Kix and Coric do, in fact, have eyes in the back of their heads. We wouldn’t even make it out of the door.” 

It’s true, you’ve seen several different troopers trying to carefully sneak out of the medbay when they think that no one is watching. 

What you’ve learned, though, is that the medics of Torrent Company are always watching. Nothing gets past their keen eyes or ears, and no one successfully sneaks out undetected. 

You grimace, “besides, I’ve just gotten off of Kix’s bad side, and I have no desire to go back there.”

“So,” Fives says, resignedly coming to sit on the edge of your bed with a sigh. “We’re waiting the 15 minutes?”

You carefully sit up, giving him a nod and a decisive look as you lean your head against his shoulder..

“Yes, Fives,” you affirm, letting out a small sigh of your own. “We are waiting the 15 minutes.”

************************* thank you so much for reading. Comments and re-blogs are always appreciated here.are always appreciated here.

Mandoa translations. Kaysh mirsh solus, they are stupid/foolish. Ori’vod: Big Brother (in this instance) can also be used as big sister or big sibling. Ni ceta: i’m sorry. Vod: Brother/ sister/ sibling. Adika: little one. Vod’ika: Little sister, little brother, or little sibling Haar’chak: damm it. Di’kut: Fool (literal translation is underwear forgeter) which kills me. Osi’yaim: shithead. Osik: shit.

[toranesu]

ur kafka and blade post had my mind running sm. so i had this rlly nasty thought abt fucking them in some tight space while they're on a mission. like, even if the mission was urgent, who were they to say no to your greediness?

anon i love you for this i would 100% grope blade's ass or stare at kafka's crotch while fighting like hello??? sir, ma'am, i'm gonna need some time to control my cock (i got too into this and made it too long mb 💀)

sub bottom blade + sub bottom kafka x dom top gn reader | cw. semi-public sex, groping, reader is a greedy pervert, polyamory relationship, amab reader but cock can be interpreted as strap, riding, squirting, supposedly a quickie.

"enjoying the view, gorgeous?" she gives you a smug smile, right as she killed off an enemy. of course kafka would be the first to notice it. your eyes glued on her crotch while she shoots those antimatter engions and voidrangers. the way her chest bounces when she moves— isn't she just riling you up on purpose at this point?

you shrug in response and follow blade into the next room. you had been appointed by elio to go on a mission in herta's space station, to invade the control room and find some sort of information, to be exact. you didn't really get any of the details, but said yes anyway cuz why would anyone say no to spending time with their not one, but two sexy lovers.

it has been a while since the three of you last fucked, now that you think of it. no wonder you're so pent up... another enemy shows up, blade's taking care of it. the way his ass is just glaring at you from behind, his perfectly curved waist, his chest— why is it so big? he's gotta be at least a D cup.

the enemy dies and you can't help yourself. before you realize it, your hand lands on blade's ass, squeezing the soft, refined mound of flesh. you didn't mean to! you were going to hold his waist and praise him for his technique... really!

blade flinches at your touch, his face heating up while his body tenses. you- right now, seriously? that's basically what's going on in his mind. he wants to react but, your hand on his ass does feel nice.

"ah? having fun without me? that's mean," kafka approaches, closing and locking the door behind her. "you aren't hogging them for yourself, are you bladie?" she hums, looking at the two of you, precisely with your hand still on blade's ass.

blade flushes and looks at her with a frown, attempting to defend himself. "no i-" you cut him off, pulling kafka by her waist and wrapping kissing her neck (which she willingly exposed to you).

"come on, let me have my fun. we haven't done it in ages. i'm suffering out here, y'know?" you groan, it being slightly muffled by the fact that you're basically smothering yourself in kafka's neck. she smells nice.

blade leans into you, pulling your arm from his ass to around his waist as well. kafka smiles at you, ruffling your hair fondly, "yeah? missed us, didn't you?" fuck, she's always so smug. it's so weakening and so.. arousing. makes you want to put her in her place, doesn't it? she knows it and she loves it.

"we're in a secluded area," blade finally lets out his voice, letting out soft breaths, his hand resting on yours while your arm is around his waist. "everyone must have retreated by now. i want to.." he mumbles, a bit quiet but loud enough for you and kafka to hear.

blade had never been so vocal about his wants and needs, so the fact that he's admitting it at all must mean he's been all pent up too. how cute.

"aw, blade," you coo, letting go of your hand on kafka's waist and putting it on blade's cheek, kissing his lips endearingly. he lets out a low moan at your affection, his hand still on yours.

kafka smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing loudly, getting in the middle of you. "no more stalling. i've been waiting on this too. i'm waiting for one of you to fuck me already, you know?"

"sorry bladie, you don't mind me going first, right?" kafka lets out a heavy breath, her walls clamping down on you. she's so warm and tight... oh how you missed this.

it's not really efficient to fuck in the storage room of someone else's space station, but you'll take it. you're sitting down leaning against the wall, kafka with her clothes discarded sitting on your dick, tits looking bouncy and magnificent, her eyes half lidded while she bounces on your cock—blade's leaning on your shoulder, your hand on his dick, he's moaning softly as your hand rubs his leaking slit. fuck, this is heavenly.

kafka is having the time of her life. she absolutely adores riding you, your dick reaches the deepest parts of her, brushing against her cervix everytime you thrust inside. she enjoys the way you're under her, moaning as she makes you feel good.

but you only have a limited size of self control, using your other hand to grip kafka's hip and thrust inside her, making her moan loudly in ecstasy. you're deep inside her, the way your dick drags in and out her soaking pussy— ahh, she can't get enough of this.

"fuck, if- if we weren't on an urgent mission i would've loved to eat you out before this, kaf," you breathe out between moans, she's so warm and welcoming, your dick could melt inside her (or maybe she's just a whore).

kafka laughs breathily, holding your shoulder and groaning as she pushes herself down on you. "ah, y-yeah? what makes you think i'd let you?" always so cocky. dumb brat needs to be put in her place.

you kiss blade's cheek before letting go of his weeping cock, both your hands grabbing kafka's hips and slamming her down on you repeatedly. she lets out loud moans, her legs trembling and her toes curling. "what a fucking brat. so cocky when all you want is my dick. aren't you just my whore, princess?" you groan, continuing to fuck into her like a madman.

she can't even make a snarky reply at that point. her whole body is trembling, her tits bouncing, she's squealing and moaning, drool slipping past her mouth. but then your hand reaches to squeeze one of her breasts before pinching her clit— fuck. she throws her head back and squirts all over you, leaving you soaking wet from her fluids.

you groan at the sight and give her a kiss on the lips before pulling out of her, earning a dissapointed sigh as you lean her down on the wall next to you. kafka's had her fun, now you gotta take care of your neglected sweet boy right beside you. blade's panting at the sight, already stretching himself out for you and mewling when he feels your eyes on him.

he's waited all this long and even prepared himself for you! what a good boy. you kiss blade's swollen lips, poor boy must've been biting back his moans to not disturb you and kafka. he's so sweet.

"blade," you coo, brushing the hair out of his face. he lets out a small 'mm' at your voice, letting you hold his hips while he straddles you. he blushes lightly and holds your still hard dick, aligning it with his stretched out hole. he needs you, he needs you bad.

you rub circles on his hip as he steadily sinks himself down on your cock, breathing heavily and scrunching his eyes at the feeling that he oh so craved. he moans when you're fully inside him, leaning his head on your shoulder and letting out heavy breaths, adjusting to your size.

you kiss the top of his head and run your fingers through his hair, your other hand rubbing circles on his hip. "there we go, good boy. doing so good for me, yeah?" you whisper, soothing him as he moans at your words, lightly rolling his hips against yours. "take your time to adjust, move when you're ready, okay?" you remind him. the mission was urgent; sure, as much as this should be a quickie, you can't just force your dick in someone's hole!

after a short while, blade starts moving, rolling his hips against yours steadily before starting to bounce up and down your cock. he whimpers and moans, trying to keep his voice down— unlike someone who couldn't even bother (not like you could either). this takes you back to the first time you had sex with him, he's so shy, so quiet, holding in his voice. it's so so adoring, you think.

you pepper kisses onto blade's chest and collarbone, letting him fuck himself on you while you hold his hips to help steady him. he looks so pretty when he's breathless above you like this— both him and kafka do.

"so pretty, blade," you groan out, nipping his jaw while he continues to bounce on you, matching your thrusts. he really was ethereal... eyes half lidded, mouth parted open. you can't get enough of this.

you gotta end things fast though, the mission's still important. kafka had gotten you close to your climax already so now you're even closer, feeling your dick twitch in blade.

you kiss blade's shoulder softly, fucking into him while your other hand reaches towards his neglected cock. blade mewls as he feels you stroke his dick, getting him close to his own ejaculation. your hips nor his stop thrusting, your hand stroking his dick at the same pace.

"cumming– hng, i'm c-cumming," blade slurrs, nipping onto your shoulder and moaning, his dick twitching in your hold.

you kiss the shell of his ear, whispering, "cum for me, blade." and with that, he releases in your hand, his walls clenching around you tightly as he moans in ecstasy.

"good boy," you kiss blade's sweaty forehead before getting him off of you, sitting him down next to you and palming yourself, chasing your own release.

"hello?? kafka? blade? [name]? where are you? did you get the stuff?" the voice of a familiar hacker reaches your ears.

you curse under your breath, "oh fuck."

[yourlocalstranger123]

—PRAYER—

Version 1

Version 2 [you're here]

Warning: SFW/slight NSFW

As the Creator and God, you can clearly hear every prayer for you. You even hear some gods pray to you, too. Although you've had some...certain prayers said to your name...

Morax/rex-lapis praying to support him in wars and etc. Morax/rex-lapis under a tree, trying to get friction, resisting the urge to close his legs as he palms his bulge while chanting your name. Zhongli, on his knees. Praying that Liyue will be safe and protected by your blessings. Zhongli on his bed, twitching, saying prayers to do things to him, asking for forgiveness, saying that he deserves your punishments for being so shameful. Edging himself since you would've done that to him as a punishment.

Childe, praying for power and strength and to protect his family. [Might also pray for bloodshed-] Childe, leaning against the wall, biting his lips to refrain noises and kept saying your name over and over. Head thrown back as he came.

[That's all I have for now, so please down hunt me down and hurt me 🥲😅]

[dystopicjumpsuit]

afesfefesfa i've not been doing the scrolling i normally would thanks to technology and the dash repeating the some posts on repeat for five minutes making it extraordinarily tedious so I had no idea your requests were open for the cuddle prompts until i scroled your blog, but! may I ask for 30, soft looks whilst cuddling (i have adlibbed the prompt i think?) with my beloved Rex?

Because I can never get enough of him <3

@eternal-transcience

A/N: Thank you for the request, Kim! I hope I was able to capture the softness you were looking for 💙

Pairing: Rex x Reader (GN, has hair long enough to tangle)

Rating: G (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 332 (yes, I did that on purpose)

Warnings and tags: fluff, cuddles, forehead kisses

Summary: You and Rex see things differently, so you try a different perspective.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Alpine Vert by Gloss Moderne

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“I don't see it,” Rex said, his voice rumbling beneath you. He toyed absentmindedly with your hair as you lay perpendicular to him with your head resting on his stomach.

“How can you not see it? It's right there!” you insisted.

“Maybe it's the angle,” he suggested. “Come up here and show me.”

You sat up and stretched luxuriously, enjoying the sunshine. The back of your shirt was damp with dew from the grass as you rose, and it clung to your skin, cooling rapidly in the breeze. After weeks of the monotonous gray durasteel walls of a starship, you’d leapt at the chance to spend some time planetside.

White plastoid littered the ground around you: the top half of Rex’s armor, discarded when you reached the top of the hill where you’d lured him with the promise of a picnic—if a meal of ration bars and stale canteen water counted as a picnic (Rex insisted it did). You crawled closer to him and flopped back down in the grass, this time lying next to him with your head on his shoulder.

“See?” You pointed at the sky. “There's its head, and there's its back legs, tail, and front paws.”

He dropped a light kiss against your temple before replying, “I don't know how you can possibly look at that cloud and see a nexu wearing spectacles, walking on its back legs, while reading a holonovel.”

“Well, what do you see?” you demanded, tilting your head to look up at him.

He watched you, his eyes soft. “Someone with a better imagination than me.”

“That's not true,” you objected.

He smiled and continued as though you hadn't spoken. “Someone with a head full of stories and hair full of grass.” He reached up and plucked a blade of grass from your tangled locks, then wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to himself. “My favorite person in the galaxy.”

Well, you mused. How am I supposed to argue with that?

---

Want to request a ficlet? Check out this list of prompts!

Need a hit of Rex spice? I gotchu.

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory

[vodika-vibes]

hello!! can I request Rex with topaz in the fall? congratulations on 500 followers!!

Satisfied

Summary: You love Rex. With everything that you are. Luckily, at this point in your life, you don’t have to convince him of that.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Word Count: 627

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! Thank you for your request! I hope this is close to what you wanted. The title came from a Hamilton Song. It popped up on my Spotify playlist while I was writing.

“It’s going to be chilly today, mesh’la,” Rex says from where he’s sprawled on the bed next to you, his eyes still closed as he fights having to wake up. “We should stay in.”

You roll over so that you’re able to rest your arms on his bare chest, “Wouldn’t you rather come out with me? We planned to go to the orchard now that it’s fall.” You say with an adoring smile.

“Hm. Do I want to go out into the cold, or do I want to stay here, in the warm, with the love of my life?” Rex drawls, his eyes cracking open to peer at your face, “Hard choice.”

You laugh softly and slide up so your face is hovering over his, “We can do both. Go out and then come back and relax.”

“Hm…we could.” He agrees, “Or, we could just stay here, in bed, all day. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

A giggle slips from your lips, “Oh, but what would we do in bed all day?”

Rex grins at you and then flips the pair of you in a smooth motion, pulling a startled yelp from you, “Well, I think think of one of two things,” He teases as he carefully settles his body over yours without crushing you, “I can always go and get my deck of cards-”

“Rex!” His name falls from your lips in a burst of laughter.

Warmth and genuine affection softens his expression, and he moves his hand to caress your cheek, “I love you.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you. There’s an expression similar to awe on his face, and your smile softens.

Even now Rex still has a hard time believing that you’re his.

You reach up and press your hands against his cheeks, “I’m lucky to have you,” You announce to the bedroom, and he shoots you a look of amusement.

“Is that right?”

“It is right.” You add solemnly, “I’m a little careless and absent-minded you see-”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Rude!”

“Hey, you said it first.” Rex leans in and presses his forehead against yours, “But I do have to correct something that you said.”

“Oh?”

“I’m the lucky one.” Rex says, “You would have been well within your rights to tell me to take a hike. I’m glad you gave me a chance.”

“Oh, you silly man.” You tilt your head slightly to catch his lips with your own, “I would have given you all of the chances. I wanted you and no one else.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Rex catches your lips again, carefully pinning you to the bed beneath him, “That’s good to know.”

You grin at him, “I figured it was obvious. I was rather…not subtle about my crush on you.”

“No, you really weren’t.” Rex kisses you once more, “Mesh’la,” He murmurs against your lips, “I have a question.”

“Go ahead,”

“Will you marry me?”

You pull back and stare at him, startled, “Really?”

Luckily, Rex seems to understand that your question is born out of surprise for his question, rather than a refusal to believe that he just asked it, as a small grin crosses his face, “Really.”

You fling your arms around him with enough force that you’re able to pull him down to the bed, “I was beginning to think that you didn’t want-” You mumble in his ear, “Yes! Of course I want to marry you! No take backs!”

He laughs and shifts slightly so that he’s laying on his side, though you’re still clinging to him, “So…about our plans for the day?”

“Plans? What plans?” You mumble as you cling to him tightly.

Rex just grins and kisses the side of your head, more than happy to spend the day like this.

[honeydjarin]

WILDFLOWERS

REX X READER

You don’t know when you fell into the habit of bringing the Captain flowers, but now that you started you can’t seem to stop, not when he takes you in with such a soft look each time you do.

genre: fluff

word count: 1,300

a/n: This went a very different direction than I thought it was going to, but that’s okay! Rex deserves to be given flowers ♡

“Here, these are for you,” you say, shoving a small bundle towards Rex. Your hand shakes as you stretch it towards the man, and you hope the suddenness of your actions is enough to distract him from the uncontrollable movement. 

He stares at you for just a moment, amber eyes blown wide in surprise, before he reaches for your outstretched hand. His calloused fingers brush against yours for a lingering moment before he allows them to settle there, your tremor persisting even as he holds you steady, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

You forgot just how warm he is. The heat of his skin seeping into yours is more comfortable than should be possible and makes it difficult for you to focus on why you came to see him in the first place. Rex uncurls your fingers with a gentleness that, if you didn’t already know just how careful he could be with delicate things, might have been unexpected from a man of his position.

Rex holds the bundle close to get a better look at what you brought him, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, eyes shining with a new warmth. You’re not sure if he realizes how easily his features slip into something so soft—the way everything he feels shows plainly on his face. It’s no wonder why he is a terrible liar.   

Your stomach flips, and for just a moment you think the Resolute has fallen out of hyperspace. You wait for the blaring sound of alarms warning all onboard the starship of imminent danger, but it never comes. The ground stays stable beneath you.

Rex’s gaze returns to your own, the gentle light still shining in them as he takes you in.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “They’re lovely.”

The interaction shouldn’t feel as embarrassing as it does. This isn’t the first time you brought the Captain of the 501st flowers, but somehow, every time, the exchange leaves your heart pounding. Maybe it’s the fact that you continue to seek out that gentle look the only way you know how that leaves you feeling so awkward. Gifting flowers is such a simple thing, and yet it feels almost too meaningful, too obvious.   

You don’t know when you fell into the habit of bringing the Captain flowers, but now that you started you can’t seem to stop, not when he takes you in with such a soft look each time you do.  

“Really? They’re not as pretty as some of the others,” you admit. You wring your hands together now that you’re no longer holding anything that you could use to keep yourself distracted. 

The flowers aren’t very extravagant. They’re a pretty shade of blue, their tiny faces poking out between long, thin purple leaves. They’re wildflowers from the planet you just left, the little things sprouting up from hard earth around the bases of gnarled and twisted trees. The flowers you bring the trooper are always wildflowers. There hadn’t been much time to pick them while you were planetside, the evidence of your crunch for time visible along the bottom of each stem where you broke them from the rest of the plant, but you couldn’t help yourself. They were the perfect Five Oh One blue, and they reminded you of Rex. 

Flowers always remind you of Rex.

“The color is nice,” the Captain offers, his words helping to soothe your nerves. They may not be as beautiful as some of the others, but he still likes them. Your hands still slightly, no longer needing to worry so much. Rex has never given you a real reason to worry, but still you do. You want him to like the flowers.

You want him to like you. 

Rex steps back from the doorway and into his room. It’s small, the space barely large enough to fit his bed, a few shelves, and a desk; all of which is bolted to the walls, immovable in the face of hyperspace jumps and battle. Still, the space is his alone, which is more than most of the troopers can say for their sleeping arrangements. 

You step into the spot Rex occupied moments before, not wanting to encroach on his space, but not yet ready to walk away. You watch from the doorway as he steps into the small refresher, carrying a metal cup that he “accidentally” took from the mess hall.

He returns moments later, the flowers placed inside the cup like they always are. He sets them on his desk, the only color in the room besides the fading blue paint on his armor. 

They look out of place in the best sort of way. If he didn’t seem to genuinely like the flowers you wouldn’t keep bringing them to him, but even he smiles at the little plants as he sets them down. 

Rex steps back towards you, warm eyes giving away a growing curiosity, his thoughts spinning with a question that won't go unasked for long.  

“Why do you bring me flowers?” he gives voice to his confusion, not for the first time. He keeps his gaze on you, unyielding. Your hands find each other again, as if pulled together by some magnetic force, a clear and unfortunate sign of your anxious nature.

You take a moment to respond, trying desperately to find some sort of answer that you can give him that won’t also give away too much. Finally you settle on: “I don’t know?” 

You speak slowly, as if even that weak response is too telling.   

The first time he asked you that same question, you told him it was to liven up the place. 

“I know the ship's quarters can be pretty bland,” you explained. Kamino, the Resolute, and the barracks on Coruscant are all blank, sterile, void of life despite the people who eat and sleep there. Everything had a purpose. A handful of wildflowers couldn’t do much to change that, but it was still something. The flowers meant more to Rex than you expected they would.   

Really, that particular little bundle of yellow, pink, and white flowers had been plucked and given to the Captain as if on instinct, just as the bright orange flowers you gave him the time before had been. 

Rex is always dependable and unwavering, constant despite the horrors he faces regularly. He is the exact opposite of you, with your fraying nerves that seem to get in the way of every aspect of your life except your job. 

Now that you’ve gotten to know him better, to become friends with him, find some sort of stability in the midst of the storm that always seems to rage inside you, giving him flowers means so much more. It’s the only way you can think of to show him how much you care when your hands and your voice continue to fail you.  

Rex gives you a pointed look, and you try your best to revise your answer. It takes you even longer this time to respond, but he waits patiently for you to find the words. And maybe that’s just it—Rex is strong and steady, he pushes but never blindsides. The Captain is genuine, and it draws you in more than you ever anticipated.

You’re too old for a crush to affect you so much. 

“They make you happy,” you settle on. Quieter, you add, “I really like seeing you happy.” 

He smiles again, wider this time. His teeth flash but the look he gives you is still soft. It’s as if he can hear the words you aren’t saying, the ones that would inform him of just how much he really means to you.

Just one look is enough to send your heart racing again. 

He reaches out and takes your hands in his, forcing you to stop your nervous habit. His hands are warm again, how quickly you’ve forgotten. 

“I like seeing you happy too.” 

a/n: Not everyone can be super confident around their crushes. Some of us are walking disasters instead!

[actuallybarb]

here with me

pairing: male x gn!reader (i tagged with a lot of different male characters i find comforting, but there’s no names used so you can imagine anyone you so please)

word count: 0.6k

warnings: reader is in pain (nothing descriptive), he comforts. just fluff

a/n: i wrote this as a result of my own migraines, but i kept all the symptoms vague because any chronic pain is a bitch, and you deserve to be treated softly by the person of your choice

The apartment usually wasn’t this quiet when he got home.

Or this dark.

He set his keys on the counter and left his boots by the door, then carefully stepped through the apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty, and the office looked like it hadn’t been touched all day.

There was no light under the bedroom door. He set a cautious hand on the doorknob, but a quiet whimper had him opening the door without question.

You were laid out on the bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over your eyes. The ceiling fan and rotary fan on the ground were both spinning at top speed, and he could just see a dark bag poking out under your neck.

He quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen, now a man on a mission. He grabbed a straw and a water bottle from the fridge, then took an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it with a dish towel. He took the last item, a bottle of painkillers, from the cabinet and silently returned to the bedroom, the only sound of his presence being the faint click as the door closed one more time.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You let out another small whimper.

“How bad is it?”

“9.5.”

Unbearable, then, if you were using an actual pain scale.

He set his items on the nightstand and took a seat beside you on the bed.

“Meds?”

“At 3.”

Only a couple hours ago, too soon to take more. He put those beside the lamp.

He uncapped the water bottle and put the straw in, then he gently tucked a hand behind your head and lifted. “Drink.”

Your lips wrapped around the straw, and he didn’t pull the bottle away until you’d swallowed at least four times. But before you could lay back down, he replaced your old ice pack with a new one. You shivered a little, but the cold was a welcome reprieve.

“Stay or go?”

You could’ve cried. He’d stuck with you through this so many times he knew your comforts by heart. He read your moods instantly, and most of the time didn’t need promptings, but he always took the time to ask when it got bad like this. And he never shamed you for only being able to say a few words at a time.

“Stay.”

It nearly came out as a sob.

He shed his jacket and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Shirt or no shirt?”

“Soft.”

He took off his current shirt and replaced it with his sleep one, nothing decorating the black fabric, just ultra-soft cotton.

“Where do you want me?”

It differed every time. Sometimes you didn’t want him at all, the thought of another person with you sending jolts of pain through your body. Other times you wanted him to stay, but on the other side of the bed. Or you wanted him close, but barely touching.

“Top.”

Or sometimes you needed him to put all of his body weight on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

“Covers?”

“No.”

He positioned himself, knees on either sides of your thighs, then he slowly lowered himself until his hands on either side of your face were the only thing keeping him up.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He finished lowering himself and settled his full weight against you.

You sighed in relief.

“Better?”

You nodded and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “Better.”

“Three taps if I’m suffocating you.”

For the first time that day, you took a deep breath and relaxed.

[clone-anon]

Could you maybe do something like jedi Reader comforts Rex after Umbara?

You got it!

A/N: Can be read as a platonic relationship. Includes platonic bedsharing with multiple clones.

You wandered throughout the barracks after meeting with several jedi generals. You were headed back to the temple when you saw Rex. You tried greeting him with a smile, but he looked devastated and angry at the same time. He looked at you and tried softening his features.

"I heard," you said, referring to Umbara.

Rex shook his head and looked away. You sensed his devastation.

"So many good men are gone," he whispered.

You put a hand on his elbow and guided him to sit down in the nearby mess hall. You put a hand on his shoulder and waited for him to speak. His grief weighed so heavily, you weren't sure how he was still going. Rex leaned toward you and allowed you to wrap your arms around him. He started listing the names of all the men he knew were gone and then Dogma, whose future was unknown.

"None of this should have happened," he gritted through his teeth.

"I heard about Krell." You refused to call him a master any more. "Some of the other masters are concerned he may have influenced other jedi. I hope not."

"He had a reputation for not caring about the clones," said Rex, "and I shouldn't have pushed that fact aside as long as I did."

"You're loyal, Rex. You're an excellent leader and soldier. Don't blame yourself."

You wiped away an escaped tear. You sat there with him as time ticked on. You weren't leaving that night. You, Rex, Fives, Tup, and Jesse pushed some mattresses together on the floor of their barracks. You slept together, holding on to him. Everyone laid in a pile and fell asleep. They just wanted to stay connected and hope that they could keep going on.

[makilime]

Rex Splode x Gn!Reader

I wasn't joking when I said that just now this character won't let me think straight.

⏤͟͟͞͞ ｟Dating heacanons｠⏤͟͟͞͞

Patience is not an option, it is a requirement with this man. There will be moments when you'll just want him to shut his mouth.

Now, either you share the same neuron or you'll probably need to count to 10 a hundred times a day.

If you share the same neuron, he's your man, although you'll probably get a stomach ache for laughing at their stupidity.

That would probably bring you a lot of scolding if that's the case, you won't be Immortal's favourite person, that's for sure.

If you're someone more serious, he'll try hard to at least get a smile out of you.

Your relationship would be a poorly hidden secret. He's not ready to admit he's dating someone yet, rather he doesn't want anyone to find out about It because Eve and Kate will almost certainly explain to you that he's a total idiot.

It's not like they're lying, but after almost dying he's really trying to get better.

Yeah, remember"poorly hidden secret"? Well, he talks about you 24/7, without saying your name of course. "I'm going on a date with someone really hot, it's like the coolest person I've ever met in my life"

Words of affirmation is something that would surprisingly make him be in the palm of your hand.

Not that he complains about other displays of affection, he's more than happy to receive any kind of physical contact and attention.

As for gifts, he is not too excited but he appreciates it.

He's not the kind of person who gives flowers or chocolates, he'd probably give you something you were looking at in a shop window, you'd find it in front of your door in the same bag he bought it in.

Civilian? He'll be all smug about how cool it is to be a hero and especially how cool he is as a hero "Save humanity? Yeah, I do it twice this week, easy peasy."

Hero? Then he will be a pain in the ass. It's not that he doubts your abilities, he just wants to take the lead, show you that you're safe with him, even though he'll probably cause more collateral damage in the process.

Who cares about saving the world? He would sacrifice the world to save you.

If you jump into danger, he'll stand by your side.

In private, his attitude is a little different. He will really listen to you and be someone you are comfortable talking to about your problems or anything that crosses your mind.

However, don't expect great advices, although I don't deny that he'll make a real effort.

Something quiet and simple is perfect for him, you would become his safe space, he wouldn't be alert all the time waiting for something to try to kill him.

Dates are more spontaneous than planned, if there is free time there is always the possibility of going to your favourite restaurant.

His perfect date would be go to get a drinks and then just watch movies at home, even better if it's your home... Although I don't think he have a home himself.

Who fell in love first? If you fell first, he fell harder for sure.

I mean, the first week he would think "of course, who wouldn't fall in love with me?".

After a month he realised that you were serious and thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to try his luck.

... There was no turning back once he fell in love with you.

On the other hand, if he fell first, there will be no lack of reckless flirtations and awkward approaches, if you appreciate your personal space he will love your personal space.

In the middle of class you could see him at the window beckoning to you.

Casually one day the fire alarm is turned on and he convinces you to skive off, can you blame him? He just wants to take advantage of his free time.

If you went on a mission together he wouldn't get tired of teasing you.

However, if you are a man, you will suddenly realise that he is much nicer to you than to others. Favouritism is more than obvious to everyone.

Especially when you're in the same room with other guys, he'll suddenly go from calling Mark a chicken to offering if you want to get something to eat after training, he won't let you pay for anything.

Maybe a casual spanking after finishing a mission, just to reinforce the camaraderie of course.

It's the first time I write in this format, so sorry if something is written weirdly, English is not my first language.

If you have any request I'll be happy to write or draw it, I also do fanfics :D

[scaredpigeons]

Sunrise, Crystallize I: to pray to a fallen deity.

Masterlist // Next Chapter

Zhongli x Gn!reader

SFW (there will be nsfw chapters but I will keep them separate so everyone may enjoy.)

Word count: 6.2k

You find yourself seeking solace in the prayers you speak to the god of your new home, despite the fact that he’s passed away. Despite the fact that no one answers, your loneliness seems to be lessened by the warmth of the sunrise. You gain a few new companions, and push through your awkward and nervous disposition to embark on a challenge that you may or may not have little hope of succeeding in.

CW: reader has anxiety, real deep lack of self confidence. Very socially awkward. Reader is a florist, running a greenhouse in the harbour. (Author has absolutely zero florist experience or knowledge, so many apologies.)

Authors note: this is the first chapter of many to come, as Zhongli was my first love in genshin impact. This is kind of self indulgent, because while I really enjoy badass, beautiful, desirable reader inserts who exemplify everything I want to be, part of me really fantasizes about what it might be like to have such a desirable character love me not despite of, but because of my self-perceived flaws. I also think that Zhongli is a wonderful character to explore this dynamic with, as he’s incredibly patient and thoughtful, and having lived for 6000+ years— I can really see him finding someone who is socially his opposite very charming. Anyways, please enjoy this first chapter!

———————

Watching the sun rise on Yujing Terrace had become your most beloved pastime since the death of Rex Lapis. You’d never really ventured up the steps further than Bubu pharmacy, but after everything that happened, you decided to go and pay your respects in a more private setting. 

You hadn’t attended the rite of parting. It felt too strange, seeing as you weren’t from Liyue, but you’d lived in the harbor long enough to feel a little twinge of guilt afterwards. 

The attack on the harbor had halted your plans, you really hadn’t wanted to venture outside when there was an ancient sea god wreaking havoc in the waters just beyond your home. But once everything was settled, and the novelty of Rex lapis’ passing finally became outshone by recent events, you decided it was time. 

You’d spent all evening working in your greenhouse, realizing the night had escaped you only when your eyes barely skimmed across a clock on your way to grab fresh potting soil from your storage room. You’d figured beating the morning rush to the terrace was better for your sanity, and washed your hands before heading out. 

The sun had not begun to rise, everything washed in fading starlight as you made your way up the stone stairs. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that only the Milileth were occupying the terrace, a few standing guard here and there and a few making their rounds. 

One soldier looked at you a bit warily, most likely wondering why you were here so early. But he only nodded politely when you sheepishly showed him your box of incense. 

When you made it to the topmost part of the terrace, you lit a singular stick and placed it in the holder. You’d seen people immediately murmuring their prayers after lighting their incense, but you weren’t really sure what to say, so you walked around a bit before standing at the railing facing east over the harbor. 

The water looked so peaceful. The sky had started brightening, the first glimmers of the rising sun peeking up from the horizon, casting early shadows along the boats and buildings. 

You took a deep breath, pushing your exhale further than normal. Your chest felt strange, You’d never really prayed to anyone before. 

“Um…” you fiddled with your hands on the stone railing, watching the sun rise ever so slowly. “I’m sorry I didn’t attend your rite of parting. Crowds are really not my thing.” 

You felt too strange to say his name out loud, hoping that wherever the wind took your words would eventually lead to wherever he was resting. Where did gods go when they die? 

“I’ve not lived in the harbor long, but I can see why you loved it. Though I have been here long enough to understand the love you must have had for your people, and the love they gave to you in return. Despite that, I feel as though we’re all going to be just fine in your absence.” 

You cringed a little, wondering if your words came across too crass or irreverent. 

“Ah, well, what I mean to say is you shouldn’t worry.” you chewed on your lip, watching more shadows form along the harbor as the sun grew and grew over the sea, bathing the sky in oranges and pinks.

“Oh, what else do people say when they do this…” you mumbled. “People usually ask for blessings or good fortune, don’t they? I’ve never really understood that. I won’t ask for anything… or is that rude too?” You could never remember the protocol for things like this. 

“Maybe I’ll just ask for happiness. If you can send some sense of fulfillment my way, that would be nice. But don’t put yourself out or anything.” 

You scoffed at yourself, rolling your eyes as you gazed out at the sea. “Or maybe I should just give my blessing to you. Does anyone do that? Ask for blessings and good fortune for you?” 

You shook your head, leaning on the railing and smiling at yourself a bit. It felt like you were talking to yourself, but it wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as you thought. 

“Well then, I ask that you rest in peace. You deserve it after the multiple millennia you endured. I can't imagine having to work for that long, sounds exhausting.” You yawned, stretching out your limbs. 

It was strange, you felt tired— obviously. Being up all night was not exactly ideal, but standing there, watching the beautiful sun rise over your city, you couldn’t help but feel a warm wash of pure… peace. You felt good. You didn’t feel so alone. 

You looked around a bit, still seeing that no one was near you, before looking up half heartedly at the sky. 

“Is that you? Is that why people do this sort of thing?” You smiled as the sun finally broke its way from the water, painting the sky in all its glorious colors. 

Hmm. Perhaps I should design a new sunrise themed bouquet. 

You rubbed the tiredness from your eyes as you made your way back to the stairs, but as you walked through the first archway, your eyes caught sight of the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. 

He was standing, holding a cup of tea while he chatted with an elderly woman at her table. The warm, early sunlight bathed him in its amber hues, making the colors of his clothing gleam, and exposing the rich warm tones of his hair. 

He was exceptionally tall, that much you could tell, even from so far away. He held himself with such grace and poise that you couldn’t help but stare. He looked like royalty. He looked like he belonged on a throne, not walking amongst the common people. 

His smile was small but contagious— you’d pressed a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you were grinning as he did down at the little old lady in front of him. 

The woman chuckled a bit, before turning to the small flower bed behind her, before picking one of the flowers that was growing there. 

A glaze lily? They were extremely rare, you knew that for certain. They hardly grew in the wild, which is why you hadn’t bothered to grow them for your shop yet, as you harvested the majority of your seeds by yourself. 

He took the delicate flower in his gloved hand, bringing it to his nose and taking what looked like a deep breath. Your heart lurched as his face became almost solemn, but he pushed a smile through and nodded to the woman, saying something you couldn’t hear. 

You couldn’t help but watch as he finished his tea, his striking eyes scanning around the terrace. It was a moment too late when you realized his eyes were eventually going to fall on you. You— who was watching him like some sort of lunatic. 

His eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, and even from a distance they seemed to burn in the early morning sunshine. You instantly flushed, an embarrassing noise fluttering past your lips as you turned around and hid behind the archway, hoping that it looked like you were just heading back towards the overlook. 

You took several deep breaths before you dared peek around the corner again, sighing in relief as you watched the beautiful man make his way down the steps. 

That was the single most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done. You thought, before shaking your head as memories of far more embarrassing events flooded your brain. Actually, never mind. That was pretty far down on the list. 

You almost thought that perhaps you never wanted to see that man again, for fear of embarrassing yourself once more— but that thought was quickly swept away. It would be a shame never to see him again. He was far too pretty. 

———————

it was about a month into your new habit when the elderly woman called out to you. 

You were simply making your way back towards the stairs, having only ever greeted her with a polite nod or a rushed “good morning!” Here and there, so you were surprised when she called you over and invited you for tea. 

You introduced yourself, and she smiled, pouring you a cup. 

“Ah, you’re the young one running that new flower shop, yes?” 

You nodded. “Yes ma’am. ‘New beginnings: flowers and things.’ I sell little trinkets and gifts here and there when I collect them on my travels. But mostly it's just my flowers.”

”oh, you little darling. No need to be so formal. You can call me granny if you like— or Ping. Either or.”   

Normally you wouldn’t be so formal with someone you’d just met, especially an elder, but there was something about Ping that made you feel so comfortable. 

“Alright, Granny.” You smiled. 

“Much better. “ she said, taking her seat. “Now why don’t you tell me all about your shop. I was very surprised when I heard that someone had built a little greenhouse in the city.” 

And so began your new routine of waking up early to watch the sunrise— talking to yourself under the guise of “praying to Rex Lapis”, and having your morning tea while chatting with Madame Ping. 

Ping turned out to be quite the gossip, and you got most of your updates on the comings and goings of the people through her. You learned about her disciples, though you weren’t quite sure what she was a master of. She seemed very wise, having many a tale to tell and advice on things that plagued you. 

One morning you brought her a speciality bouquet of Cecelia’s, one of your more popular flowers, and she gushed about how thoughtful you were. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I stole one from the bouquet earlier and left it on the overlook as an offering with my incense.” You said, sipping your tea. 

“Nonsense, they’re your flowers to begin with, dear. I never would have even known if you hadn’t said something.” She pulls a vase from beneath her table, and pours some water from her nearby jug inside. Ping places the flowers in the vase, fluffing up the greenery to look nice and setting it on the other end of her table. 

“There, just beautiful. Thank you my dear.” She says, sitting back down.

”It's really no trouble. They’re some of my last Cecelias, my recent batch of seedlings went bad. I'll have to make a trip to Mondstadt to collect more seeds soon.” You fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“If you need someone to watch over the shop for you while you’re gone, I’m well acquainted with a traveler who is just perfect for odd jobs like that when they have the time.” 

“Oh,” you said, looking out at the colors fading from the sky. “That might be nice, I’ve been putting off going out because I’m not too sure who I can trust to watch the greenhouse.” 

You were trying hard to hide your wavering tone, but you knew immediately Madam Ping had caught on. 

“Is there something else on your mind, dear?” She said, “You know you can talk to me about anything that troubles you.” 

You paused, looking around a bit before you took a deep breath. “It’s just…”

Chewing your lip, you sighed at her kindness. You knew better than to be anxious around Ping, but your embarrassment over what you had been doing the last month was eating at you. 

“Is it strange that I've been… praying to Rex Lapis every morning, even though he’s no longer with us?” 

“Ah,” Ping hummed, her eyes glittering with mirth. “I had been wondering what you do over there before the sun rises. When you said you left a flower as an offering, I thought perhaps you prayed to a lost loved one, but Rex Lapis?” 

“I know— it's odd isn’t it? I don’t even know if gods still hear prayers when they pass but—“ 

“Nonsense.” She interrupted your downward spiral, her tone light to soothe you. “There are plenty of people who still pray to our fallen archon. And I can guarantee you that wherever he is resting— those prayers still make it through to him, and crystal clear at that. He may not be able to descend from the heavens as a magnificent dragon to grant the wishes of his followers anymore, but he will always bear witness to our prayers, of that you can be certain.” 

“Oh,” you breathed. You weren’t sure if you believed her, but you didn’t want to seem rude. “Do you think it bothers him? To hear so many people while he is trying to rest?” 

“I’m sure the requests for wealth and glory get rather tedious very quickly.” Madame Ping laughs. “But what do you pray to him for?” 

You flush, running your finger along your teacup. “I don’t really ask him for anything. I just sort of… tell him about things?” You shrug, feeling rather sheepish. 

Ping simply nods, encouraging you to continue. 

“I wasn’t really ever certain he could even be listening. It just feels nice to get things off my chest, you know?” You took another sip of tea. “I feel sort of bad, I mainly just vent to him— it’s kind of like chatting with you, granny. Only I say things I might not be comfortable sharing with others.”

Ping hums, staring out over the harbor thoughtfully. 

“I’m sure your kind of prayers are the most interesting to him. Perhaps even his favorite.” She says after a few moments. 

“Really?” You scrunched up your nose a bit. “I find that sort of hard to believe.” 

Ping smiled, and her eyes seemed to glitter with something unknown. She always seemed to be brimming with unobtainable knowledge, it kept you clinging to her every word in hopes of soaking it up. 

“It was once said that after so many years of being a god— watching over his people and nation with the weight of thousands of years of history and bloodshed upon his shoulders — that Rex Lapis would don a disguise and wander among his people, to gain a taste of what it was like to be human.” She gathered your empty teacup, placed it on the tray with the rest of the tea set and put it aside. “I think perhaps your prayers would remind him of simpler times, of what it is like to be human.”

You let her words ruminate for a while, watching as the harbor started to wake up— typically your sign to tuck tail and run home. 

Finally, you spoke. 

“Do you think he enjoyed my flower offering?” You asked. 

Ping smiled wide, eyeing her bouquet of Cecelias. 

“I think it's a lovely gesture, but he was particularly fond of the glaze lily. Perhaps those— as opposed to the anemo archons favored flower would be more fitting.”

You cringed. You hadn’t even registered that Cecelia’s were known as Barbatos’ favorite flower. After giving yourself a mental scolding, and a reminder to brush up on your international flora guidebook, you hesitantly spoke up once more. 

“I’d love to, but I harvest my own seeds, Granny. I wouldn’t even know where to look for wild glaze lilies. Aren’t they extremely rare?” 

She pulled a little sack from beneath her table — she always seemed to have whatever she needed right on hand, how curious. — and gently placed it in your hands. 

“These are quite old, but I have a feeling if anyone will be able to get them to sprout, it will be you, dear.” 

————————————

You weren’t very hopeful. 

Seeds, when preserved under the perfect conditions, can last up to ten years. But extremely rare and delicate flower seeds tucked in a sack under Madam Pings table? 

You started small; putting six seeds into six little nursery pots, and diligently reading up on the proper humidity, soil, nutrients and water required for glaze lilies. Within the week, small little green shoots were poking through the soil, and you nearly jumped for joy. 

The revelry was short lived when the following week you entered the nursery to find six shriveled up, sad, and very dead plants. You cussed under your breath as you stomped around your greenhouse, reading through your glaze lily guide and wondering what went wrong. 

You had plenty of seeds, plenty of room for trial and error. 

You just did not expect the trial and error to last several months. 

It was the morning after you found your most recent batch absolutely ruined. The humidity or the hydration levels were off, they had to be. What other reason would they have turned to mush for? You’d abandoned the guidebook long ago, it was a lying liar who killed your plants before they even budded. 

“It’s just so frustrating, you know?” You said, leaning against the railing of the overlook. “I feel like if I can't do this, then my entire life as a florist has been for nothing.” 

There was no response, but you sort of enjoyed that. You still weren’t sure if you entirely believed Madam Ping when she said that the archon could still hear you, but you’d never stopped your ranting and rambling to him either way. 

“I know, I know. I’m being dramatic.” You flicked a pebble off the railing, watching as it tumbled down into the trees below. “This started out as me just wanting to give you a proper offering, one that you’d like. But now it feels like something I’m meant to do. If I can find a way to make Glaze Lilies more prosperous in Liyue again, I feel as though that would be a much better gift in your honor—  as opposed to just… sitting one on the terrace to get stolen or blown away in the wind.” 

Still no answer, but once again you were enveloped by that warm and lustrous feeling of peace as the sun rose over the water. Perhaps you were becoming addicted to this feeling. You certainly would not feel as ready to get through another day without it. 

You gave a deep sigh, thinking long and hard before you decided it was time to ask for help. 

“Granny?” You said as you made your way to her table. “Do you know anyone who has information on how Glaze Lilies were cultivated in the past?”

——————————

You were absolutely filthy. 

Your knees were coated in dirt, wet soil clinging to your arms where your gloves didn’t cover. You were nearly certain your hair was a complete disaster. 

None of that mattered. Your other plants were thriving, your shop was freshly stocked with premade bouquets and trimmed flowers for custom bouquets. You just unloaded your shipment of silk ribbons and wrapping paper, and were now nearly elbow deep in buckets of potting soil for your Mourning flowers. 

They required a specific blend of nutrients and earth in comparison to your other flowers, and with your newest batch almost ready to trim, you needed to get a move on with the new growth before they all sold out. 

You had just finished the mixing when the bell on the front door of your shop jingled. 

“Just a moment, I’ll be right with you!” You yelled out. 

The greenhouse was built connected to the shop which housed your little apartment on the second floor. 

Everything was relatively close, so you often worked in the greenhouse during the slow hours. And that damned bell was so loud, though you supposed it had to be, otherwise you could run the risk of people sneaking in and taking what they’d like. Now, you didn’t think that was likely to happen, but it never hurt to be cautious. 

You tossed your gloves onto the nearby counter and washed your hands with the bulle fruit scented soap by the sink. 

You took off your dirty apron to exchange it for the clean shop apron. It helps to look somewhat put together when greeting customers. 

You wiped your damp hands along the sides of the apron as you finished tying the knot, rounding the corner into the shop. 

“How can I help you today?” You said, making your way to the front counter and pausing to make sure your bags were stocked in case they were purchasing something. 

“I was told by a friend that you were in need of some information on historic flora cultivation?” The mans voice was deep, with a delicious rasp about it that had you wondering exactly what kind of man had a voice so alluring. 

You looked up finally, trying to peek through the shelving as he walked along, only to catch glimpses of rich, warm browns. Curse you for stocking your flower bins so damn full. 

You caught sight of warm brown hair, the morning sun gleaming in the windows to catch along the amber hues scattered throughout. 

Your heart lurched as he turned the corner, watching as his eyes scanned the walls lining your shop— decorated with plants and trinkets, little baubles glimmering in the sunlight. 

The face of quiet admiration he gave as he looked at the flowers might’ve buckled your knees if not for the realization that this was the man you had seen Madam Ping speaking to— that day. 

This was that man. The man who may or may not have haunted your dreams for weeks after you saw him. You had wanted to ask Ping who he was, but you were so incredibly embarrassed about the whole situation. Now here he was, standing in your shop as you wondered if this was insanely good luck, or insanely bad luck. 

“Ah, yes. Gran— I mean, Madame Ping said you might be around today.” You introduced yourself, welcoming him to your store as you tried to keep your voice level. 

“It’s a pleasure,” the man said, giving a slight bow. “My name is Zhongli, I currently work at wangsheng funeral parlor as a consultant, but in my spare time I am somewhat of a historian, among other things.”

”It's lovely to meet you, Zhongli.” You wrung your hands together, unsure whether you should look him in the eye or not. They were so startling, so liquid gold it was difficult to hold their gaze. 

He simply smiled softly. “I am at your service. Would you perhaps be willing to show me what you’ve been working on?” 

As his gaze traveled across you, awaiting your response, but you suddenly became very aware of your current appearance. Surely any minuscule chance you had with this man flew out the window the moment he saw your disastrous hair and dirt scuffed knees. 

Not that you thought you really had a chance with him to begin with, but it doesn’t hurt to dream big, right? 

“Ah, yes. Of course.” You said, gesturing towards the back entrance to the greenhouse. “Right this way.” 

He followed closely as you made your way back. His eyes roamed the expanse of your greenhouse in what looked like appreciation, and he nodded encouragingly at you when you paused to watch his reaction. 

“This is quite impressive.” 

Feeling your face heat up, you turned to remove your shop apron and threw your dirty one back around your waist with unsteady hands. 

“It’s nothing really, I just figured that I should turn my hobby into a source of income, and well…” you hoped he didn’t notice your slight cringe as you donned your gloves once again. “I have a lot of free time on my hands.” 

“Such dedication is nothing to shrug off so casually.” He walked around, his eyes catching the latest batch of little failures and he stood in front of them, leaning in close as if to inspect their misery in finer detail. 

“These are the lilies?” He said, eyeing the drooping sprouts. 

“Yes.” You sighed, coming to stand beside him. You were anxious, sure. But your greenhouse was your safe space. You ruled this kingdom, he was just a guest here. A well dressed, knowledgeable and extremely attractive guest, but you had to convince yourself that everything was fine. If you remained calm and collected, everything would be fine. 

Fake it ‘til you make it— or however the saying goes. 

“They either shrivel up and dry out, or they take in too much moisture and rot. I had a guidebook, but it was about as helpful as a catalyst in a crystal mine.” 

You nearly gaped at him as he let a little chuckle fall from his lips, but he cut it off with a rough clearing of his throat, continuing to look at the plants. 

“Hm, well. Let us take a look at the book. I can revise any incorrect information, and we can work from there, yes?”

Nodding, you turn to dig the accursed book from its time out in the pile of shame. (A pile of useless guidebooks that carried misinformation, or were just overall genuinely bad. However terrible they may be, you’d spend decent money on them and refuse to get rid of any of your books. Hence the creation of the pile of shame.) 

Handing it to him, you move to start clearing the ruined plants from their nursery pots. You tried not to watch him as he flipped through the book, only allowing yourself little glances from the corner of your eye as you cleaned up. When you were finished, you lined up fresh nursery pots and flicked at a loose thread on the bag of seeds. 

“Surprisingly, there are only a few minor discrepancies in this guide. Overall, it seems to be alright, however there is one glaringly obvious detail that has been completely missed.” Zhongli spoke behind you. 

“Oh?” You turned, leaning against your countertop as you waited for him to elaborate. 

“In order to successfully grow Glaze Lilies, you must sing to them.” 

Your brow scrunched in confusion. “Excuse me?” 

The corners of his lips tilted up, and you flushed at the attitude leaking from your tone in such a casual manner. You’d only just met this man, and he was being extremely professional and kind in helping you with this matter. Where were your manners? 

Zhongli however, seemed unbothered by your casual display, and simply continued on. 

“I’ll make the necessary notations here, to correct the minor discrepancies, but the main focus should be — that after the first sign of sprouting — you need to sing to them at least once daily for them to continue growing properly.”

You crossed your arms and looked at him through a furrowed brow. 

“You’re not just making fun of me, are you? Because if this is some kind of practical joke, I don't find it very amusing.”  

Zhongli smiled warmly, closing the book and leaning quite casually against the opposite countertop, his liquid gold eyes glittering with amusement, but it didn’t seem like the kind that was at your expense. 

“I can assure you, I would never jest about something so important, nor would I play any kind of practical joke at your expense. I am simply sharing in my knowledge, hoping to help you in your desires, however I can.” 

You felt your heart fluttering, and you attempted to steady your breath. “Alright. I’m sorry, I just…” how could you tell him you weren’t used to people being so sincere? How could you explain that you weren’t used to such kindness without seeming pathetic? 

“Please do not worry yourself,” he said, stepping closer. He gestured to the small starting pots behind you. “Shall we get started?” 

—————-

“—And now he’s spent the last two weeks dropping by after the parlor closes every day and just— hangs out in the greenhouse while I work? I mean, his help with starting up the lilies was wonderful, but now it’s just about keeping the right moisture levels and singing to them every night, which I refuse to do while he’s there, because I’m not up for embarrassing myself in front of the literal most gorgeous man alive, thank you.” 

Your voice carried a little louder than usual, but by now the Milileth knew your routine, and hardly even batted an eye if they heard you speaking to yourself. 

The sun hadn’t started to rise yet, you’d gotten to the terrace early, early enough that the lanterns were still lit, illuminating the darkened path up those torturous stairs. 

“And he’s so polite? I don’t know how to act around him, he’s always giving such genuine sounding compliments, asking me questions while I work, helping me with little things. Surely a man like that has better things to do with his time?” You huffed, that creeping sense of self loathing wrapping around your shoulders like an old blanket, scratchy and rough, but oh so familiar. 

“He’s so beautiful, and intellectual. He’s literally a walking historical archive and I could honestly listen to him talk for hours— But in comparison, I’m just… I’m just a little girl who plays around with dirt and flowers. I really don’t understand why he keeps hanging around.” 

You scrunched your nose as the sun started to spill those beautiful colors across the sky. 

“Do you think Madame Ping asked him to keep coming around? I know she thinks I'm lonely, but I don't need her to bribe a grown man into being my friend.” 

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “No, I can't see her taking it that far. I just… I really don’t see why he would want to be around me.” 

That warm feeling started to envelop you, and you took a deep breath to soak it in. “I know… I have a lot of self worth issues. It’s not like I've asked him why he’s hanging around, I just kind of… let him.  Maybe I can work up the courage to ask him why he’s so interested. He probably only wants to see if I can actually manage to grow those flowers.” 

You rubbed the lingering sleep from your eyes and lingered a bit longer than usual, wondering what Rex Lapis would think about Mr. Zhongli. 

——————————

Around the 3 month mark, when things started looking promising, you developed another new habit. 

Instead of spending a dedicated section of time at night standing awkwardly and singing to your newly budded plants, you decided it would save time and effort to just sing away while you do your evening chores in the greenhouse. 

You wouldn’t go out on a limb and say that your other plants were magically affected by your singing, but like your lilies, everything in the greenhouse seemed just a bit more vibrant as you did so. 

You checked the clock, chewing your lip as you scolded yourself for missing Zhongli’s presence. 

About a week ago, he’d stopped by to say that he was taking a leave of absence to go on a trip with a friend of his. He’d introduced the traveler and their strange floating  companion to you before they headed off. 

“I’ll only be gone for a week, maybe more, but I truly look forward to seeing the progress when I return.” 

You’d sort of settled into the strange routine of greeting him in the evenings, making the odd pot of tea while he spoke about anything under the sun, entertaining you while you worked. It felt strange to not have him here, but you knew you couldn’t get too attached. When the lilies bloomed, he would most certainly lose interest, and you’d have to go back to your regular routine of lonely nights. 

Your heart felt a bit somber as you hauled a few buckets of mulch along, not really focusing on your surroundings, just zoning out while you sang random tunes to help your lilies grow. 

You remember a song you’d heard your grandmother sing a long time ago, a distant memory, but the melody was still so vibrant in your mind. 

“Eyes shining like the sunrise,

 Ever deeper than the night sky,

Nature sweet, like faun and flora,

More valuable than jade or mora, 

Take me me there, safe from harm,

Safe at home, in your arms.

nature's bounty he—“

Your voice caught in your throat as you turned to grab the next bucket only to find Zhongli standing silently in the doorway, eyes nearly glowing in the lantern light. 

You jumped, and you were sure if you had something in your hands, it would’ve flown out of them, most likely spilling all over you— embarrassing you even further. 

“Zhongli?!” You yelped, throwing a hand over your pounding heart. “I didn’t hear you come in! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

He chuckled, a warm sound you’d grown so fond of hearing. “I did not intend to startle you. Though I am surprised you did not hear me, considering how you’re always on about how loud that bell is.” 

“Yes, well,” your face grew so extremely warm, you pulled off your gloves and shoved them in your apron pocket, kicking a foot on the flooring of your greenhouse. ”I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here tonight, so I suppose I let myself get too carried away.” 

“I wouldn’t say you were too carried away.” His eyes were sparkling, his smile deeper than you think you’d ever seen it before. 

“Wha— are you teasing me? I thought you said you wouldn’t—“ he cut off your rambling with a simple murmuring of your name, nodding to the countertop behind you. 

Confused, you turned, and in the moonlight streaming in through exposed glass sat six perfect glaze lilies, fully bloomed. 

You walked towards them in awe, feeling Zhongli’s presence not far behind. 

“I…” you stared at them, eyes wide and mouth nearly hanging open. “I can’t believe…” 

You were hopeful, of course you were. But a part of you genuinely expected to come in one day and find them dead, destroyed like the others. You had wanted this so badly, but after months of failure, you had lost your confidence. But there, sat in front of you in their little pots, sat six perfect fully grown glaze lilies. 

“I did it.” You mumbled, turning around to face Zhongli. Your heart felt like it was bursting in your chest. You jumped, barely able to contain your joy as you shrieked. 

“I did it!” You excitedly danced around, pumping your fists in the air and whooping, in total bliss at your accomplishment. 

“You did it.” Zhongli simply said, smiling down at you.  

“We did it!” You yelled, your joy uncontainable. Without thinking, you threw yourself at him, giggling as he caught you effortlessly, spinning you around as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

He smelled like amber, like the forest and the mountain air, crisp and pure and addicting. You took another deep breath before you realized what exactly you were doing. 

You quickly pushed yourself away, backing up with a squeaking “sorry!” Only in your embarrassment, you completely lost your bearings, immediately tripping backwards on a stack of potting soil sacks and tumbling down. 

You tried to catch yourself on the side counter, but only succeeded in grabbing hold of a stack of books you’d been meaning to relocate, the pile of shame.

Perhaps it was your karma for naming it such, perhaps it was irony, but the pile of shame merely tumbled down along with you, spilling onto your head with a terrible series of audible smacking sounds to accompany your little cries of pain. 

“Oh!” In Zhongli’s defense, he really had tried to catch you, but you supposed when you pushed away, you must have shoved him a bit farther back as well, and he was merely seconds too late from grabbing your arm to steady you. 

You sat in your embarrassment, letting a loose book stay where it landed, covering your face. 

“Are you alright?” Zhongli said, his voice filled with genuine concern. 

“Can you pretend like the last five minutes never happened?” You said, cringing beneath the pages of an extremely outdated copy of Flowers in Food: recipes for your floral tastes. 

“Unfortunately, my dear,” Zhongli began removing the book from your face, peeking down at your reddened cheeks beneath the pages. “I have the pleasure of having an impeccable memory.” 

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that.” You grumbled. 

You began peeling books off yourself, face warm as you wondered how you were going to get out of this one. 

“You did not need to apologize, though.” Zhongli said, crouching down to help you. “I am more than comfortable sharing in your excitement at such an accomplishment.” 

Your heart fluttered, and your face heated for entirely different reasons. Maybe it was okay that you’d hugged him? As much as you want to think he’s always teasing you, he has never once lied about how he’s felt about anything. 

“Oh.” You said, peeling away the last couple books. “Well then, I’m sorry for pushing away so abruptly, and uh… that you had to see all that.” 

He smiled, shaking his head as if he was going to tell you something more, when his eyes seemed to catch something along your torso. 

You looked down, and under the last book you’d pulled off your stomach sat a little glowing orb, about the size of your palm. 

Its warm amber light glowed against the fabric of your shirt, and you looked just as shocked at Zhongli for a moment. 

But his face steadied, and he smiled down at you. “It seems that your perseverance has been recognized in the highest regard.” 

You gapped down at the geo vision sitting on your stomach. 

“I… what?” 

—————————

AN: what did you think? Please let me know in the comments/tags/askbox! Also feel free to send in ideas for some dynamics you’d enjoy seeing between these two, as I have a vague idea of where the story will go, but its not entirely concrete yet!

- from Pidge, with love <3

[primmiq]

ೀ ,, A love so beautiful, it might be your last. | Zhongli x GN!Reader

"Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember.. But where are those who share the memory?"

☄ Short Summary: In an era long past, Morax and the reader shared a deep love, but tragedy struck during the Archon War. The reader, protecting a fellow friend─met an untimely end. Decades later, fate granted them a new life. Reborn, with memories intact, the reader set out to reunite with Morax.

Implied: Angst and Fluff

Warning(s): Blood, gore

Word Count: 1,841 words 11,429 characters

Zhongli's character might be OOC.

[Reader is an Adeptus.]

Upon initial acquaintance with Guizhong, she graciously introduced you to her comrades, the Adepti—comprising Cloud Retainer, Streetward Rambler, Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper, and Morax. Your amiable associations extended to the Yakshas, forging bonds with each member, except for Morax. The deity, inherently reticent and guarded, proved to be difficult to win over, with a frigid disposition and a volatile temper.

Over the passing years, your persistent companionship softened the stern facade Morax presented. Gradually, subtle expressions of emotion, even occasional smiles, became discernible in his presence. A noteworthy shift ensued, granting you the privilege to affectionately address him by various endearing nicknames, besides from the customary "Rex."

Amidst the Adepti and Yakshas, your relationship with Morax attracted attention when, in a moment of jest, you ran up to him and endearingly referred to him as "Dear" or "Love." Such playful banter led to amusing misconceptions among your peers, who mistakenly perceived the both of you to be lovers. Yet, you staunchly clarified the nature of your relationship, asserting a deep and platonic friendship, despite the good-natured teasing.

As the years unfolded, it was a surprising turn of events when Morax, traditionally reserved, found himself compelled to confess his feelings. The backdrop of a garden adorned with Glaze Lilies, with the sun gracefully setting, served as the canvas for his heartfelt revelation. In a manner both old-fashioned and tender, Morax professed his affection, culminating in your joyous acceptance of his sincere confession.

The rustling leaves of the trees danced in the air as you approached the location Morax had invited you to. He acknowledged your quiet footsteps, yet his gaze remained fixed on the sun gracefully setting before him. The gentle breeze enveloped both of you, rendering the scenery truly breathtaking with each step you took. Coming to a halt, you queried Morax with a smile, prompting him to glance at you over his shoulder.

"I'm here, Rex. Is there something you wanted to say? What's with the sudden invitation?" you inquired, wearing the gentle smile that never failed to captivate him. Morax bit his lower lip, staying silent for a brief moment, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on your face. He despised it, he despiced of how you make him feel so vulnerable—so weak. Your soothing and calming voice had the power to enchant him, and he found solace in the mere act of listening to your random stories. Your scent, you embodied the ethereal fragrance of Glaze Lilies, your favorite flower, a scent that lingered gracefully as an evidence to your love for perfume crafting.

For the first time, Morax grappled with a feeling he couldn't quite comprehend. Was this what mortals referred to as love? "I..." he sighed, his words hanging in the air, unfinished. He hesitated, grappling with an unexpected fear. Morax, a formidable God, who had no fear, found himself unnerved—scared getting rejected by you.

"Is this your way of courting me, Rex?" you playfully asked, a gentle chuckle escaping your lips. His eyes widened as you continued, "I must say, this is uncharacteristic of you, Rex," teasingly noting his discomfort. Morax averted his gaze, a subtle blush gracing his cheeks. Your ability to make him feel vulnerable was both unsettling and intriguing.

"Is... that so?" Morax mumbled, and you responded with a wide smile. "It's a yes," you declared, catching him off guard. "Your confession, I accept it," you clarified, smiling. Morax pulled you into a tight embrace, his chin resting on your head as he kissed your forehead. "Thank you... [Name]," he expressed, finally allowing a wide, genuine smile to grace his countenance—a sight reserved exclusively for you.

Your relationship with Morax became known to the Adepti and Yakshas, who congratulated you both with warm smiles. Despite Morax's initial inclination to keep your relationship private, a shift in his perspective led him to make it public. He wanted the world to know that you were his, and his alone.

In the cocoon of your private moments, stolen kisses, intertwined hands, and tender embraces became cherished facets of your relationship with Morax. Despite his reserved demeanor in public, he transformed into a more affectionate lover when the two of you were alone, craving your attention and reveling in the intimacy of your shared moments─a needy God.

However, as The Archon War loomed, Morax's protective instincts took precedence. He desperately implored you to not participate, his plea driven by a strong love for you. Although you possessed adeptus capabilities, the notion of you engaging in the war didn't align with his desire to shield you from harm. Despite your own inclination to join the fight and safeguard Morax, the desperation in his eyes and the depth of his concern persuaded you to set aside your warrior instincts and stay hidden instead.

The cave echoed with the harrowing sounds of battle as you sought refuge, covering your ears to shield yourself from the haunting screams that filled the air. Amidst the chaos, a familiar scream pierced through—the cry of Guizhong.

You sprinted towards the source, only to discover Guizhong, her form covered by vicious wounds. In a swift motion, you shielded Guizhong from the impending strike, the weapon tearing through your flesh, a gruesome testament to your sacrifice.

Guizhong gasped, her eyes reflecting horror as you crumpled to the ground, blood seeping from the grievous wound. Guizhong rushed towards your lifeless body as she shouted your name, "[Name]!" The opponent, driven by greed to obtain a divine seat in Celestia, redirected their brutality towards Guizhong, leaving a trail of desolation.

When Morax returned, the cave bore witness to a scene of horror. Your lifeless body lay sprawled, the cavern floor stained with blood. The gaping wound in your stomach oozed crimson, and your once vibrant eyes now stared vacantly into the abyss. Morax, upon the realization of the tragedy that happened in his absence, dropped his weapon in shock.

Rushing to your side, he shouted your name with desperation. Clutching your lifeless form, "[Name], Wake up... please..." Morax's hands trembled as he beheld the gruesome scene before him. The air reeked of metallic bitterness, and Morax's anguished cries echoed in the cavern as he cradled your mutilated body. "Don't be like this.... wake up...." Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood that stained your cold skin. "[Name], love..... please.... I can't-" The weight of regret and grief pressed upon him as he clung to your lifeless figure, a witness to the brutality that had stolen your warmth, leaving behind only a chilling void.

After the heart-wrenching tragedy, Morax, consumed by grief and guilt, experienced a mental breakdown. As a tangible connection to you, he tenderly retrieved one of your accessories—your earring—and adorned it, a poignant gesture symbolizing an enduring link to the love and loss he felt.

With a heavy heart, Morax undertook the duty of burying your lifeless body alongside Guizhong's. The earth, now a cold and silent witness, cradled the remains of those lost in the merciless tide of war. Morax, burdened with sorrow, knelt beside the freshly turned earth and offered fervent prayers for both of your departed souls. The weight of regret and the haunting echoes of your absence lingered in the air as Morax paid his respects, a solitary figure in a desolate landscape marked by the scars of conflict.

Decades later, Morax forged a new identity as "Zhongli" after faking his death, finding solace in a mortal life working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. He shed his former hot temper for a calm and collected demeanor.

While strolling, Zhongli, hands elegantly clasped behind him, observed the approaching traveler and their flying companion, (The Traveler can be Lumine or Aether.) The flying child gestured a greeting towards Zhongli, inquiring, "Oh, hey, Mr. Zhongli! What are you doing here??" Zhongli, poised, began to respond, only to be momentarily diverted by the lingering fragrance of Glaze Lilies enveloping both the traveler and the flying child. His eyes widened in recognition, for it bore a resemblance to the perfume worn by someone dear to him.

Interrupting his thoughts, the flying child emphatically exclaimed, "MR. ZHONGLI!!!" Paimon, the flying child, nearly shouted. "My sincere apologies," Zhongli gracefully interjected, clearing his throat as Paimon sighed. "Forgive me, but may I inquire about the origin of that... fragrance?" Zhongli asked in a hushed tone, almost mumbling. Paimon proudly explained, "Ohh!! The perfume? Well, some woman was selling them in exchange for just 10 Mora! The perfume smelled sooooo nice so me and Traveler decided to buy it since it was cheap!"

Desperation apparent in his tone, Zhongli urgently inquired, "Could you kindly direct me to her establishment?" Paimon, a bit taken aback, replied, "Um... it's near to the souvenir shop." Without uttering a word, Zhongli briskly passed them, his pace accelerated. Paimon, puzzled, scratched her head, turning to the Traveler. "Mr. Zhongli seems rather peculiar today. Besides, why is he even asking? He doesn't even have Mora.." The Traveler sighed, responding, "Let him be, Paimon..."

As Zhongli stepped into the enchanting fragrance shop, his eyes widened, and a gentle tremor resonated through his heart. The woman, immersed in the alchemy of perfume creation, had her back turned, humming a melody that tugged at Zhongli's memories. "N-[Name]?" he called out, the name almost a breath. Slowly turning, [Name] met his gaze with wide eyes, masking surprise with a graceful smile. "O-oh? A new visitor? Greetings! I assume you're acquainted with my name." Her smile, a mirror of his beloved's, was both captivating and tender, sending a familiar warmth through Zhongli's soul. Nervously, [Name] began, "Well, um... do you seek something-"

Before [Name] could finish, Zhongli, overwhelmed with emotion, enveloped them in a tight embrace. "I missed you... I missed you so much," he confessed, tears welling up as he held them with a passion that spoke of longing. "Oh, Morax... perhaps it's time to shed this facade," [Name] whispered with a knowing smile. "It's you... truly you... how I've waited for you, my beloved," Zhongli whispered, [Name]'s eyes catching the glint of an earring on his right ear. "So... you've taken my earring," You mumbled. "I'm sorry for not bidding farewell, for not shielding you... I'm sorry, deeply sorry," Zhongli expressed.

"No need for apologies, my love. There's no blame on your shoulders," You reassured with a tender smile. "What matters is that I'm here," they added. Zhongli, wiping away tears, met your gaze with a smile. "You returned for me... but why didn't you seek me out? You know I would have recognized you instantly," Zhongli mumbled, his fingers delicately caressing your cheek.

"I planned it as a surprise... I knew it was the Traveler and Paimon who informed you," You giggled. Zhongli cupped their cheeks, sealing their reunion with a heartfelt kiss that echoed with the resonance of shared memories. After the passionate exchange, Zhongli beamed. "I love you, my dearest," he declared. "And I love you too, Morax, or is it Zhongli now?" they chuckled together, their laughter harmonizing with the melody of their rekindled love.

[A/N: I got lazy in the end lmao. Regardless, I hope that you liked this! Requests are open!]

Reblogs, comments, and notes are greatly appreciated! :3