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sinfulsalutations · 1 year

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𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕕𝕠 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕒𝕣𝕔 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕠

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴇᴄʜᴏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴇᴄʜᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʜᴇʀ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ: ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ꜱʜᴇ’ᴅ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ɪɴꜱɪꜱᴛꜱ ʜᴇ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴀɴ, ꜱʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ, ʀᴇᴜɴɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ/ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ʜᴀɪʀ, ᴇᴄʜᴏ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇꜱ!

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 3.7ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ/ɪ’ᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴇ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ - ɢʀᴏᴜᴘᴇʀ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴅᴏ - ʜᴏᴢɪᴇʀ, ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴀꜱᴋ ʏᴏᴜ - ᴄʟᴀɪʀᴏ, ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ - ᴀʟᴇxᴀɴᴅʀᴀ ꜱᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

⋆ ★ ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴅ ɢᴜʏꜱ ɪᴍ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴀᴏ3 ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɪ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴀ ʜᴏᴢɪᴇʀ ꜱᴏɴɢ ᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ ʟᴍᴀᴏᴏ. ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ'ᴅ, ʟᴏᴡ-ᴋᴇʏ ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ᴀʙᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡᴛᴠ, ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴄᴜᴢ ᴍʏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴇᴄʜᴏ :((((( ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ 🤍

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

“We can make this work.”

The room instantly stills with her insistence; a claustrophobic air of expectation surrounds Echo as her eyes, the eyes he thought he’d never see again, look at him like he is the same person she fell in love with.

The same man who proudly showed off his ARC kit and flexed his muscles jokingly because of a lame tip Fives had given him. Who made out with her a couple of corridors away from General Skywalker, so enraptured in their heavy petting they didn’t even notice when he’d banged on the door for them to get out. The same man who kissed her goodbye for the last time before going off the citadel on a life-risking mission.

How can she not see that the person standing in front of her isn’t the Echo she used to love?

Damp eyes plead silently and she takes a small step forward, reaching out her arms almost like she wanted to engulf him in a warm embrace. But Echo steps away and oh-so softly shakes his head, all to ease her down gently.

She tilts her head; he can't stop himself before he's grimacing.

Kriff, does his heart want to break; it wants to shatter. He can’t bear the thought of what he has to tell her. Not when she’s even more beautiful than before, incredibly pained yet exponentially mature with the years of his absence etched onto her face.

She looks exhausted, awaiting any moment she'll be allowed to retire. Not just his death, but the lives of so many of his brothers have weighted her back, turned her into another tragic story of Atlas. Echo can't dare imagine adding more for her to carry on her shoulders.

“No, cyare, I don’t think you understand,” Echo tells her, eyes darting from his hands to her face. “I’m- I’m not the trooper you met all those years ago.”

Her face contorts, eyebrows pushing together with her head tilted to the side. He grunts in frustration at the back of his throat, squeezing her hand softly for emphasis as he talks.

“Just look at me,” He pleads. “I’m more karkin’ battle droid than human. You- You don’t want me.”

It’s unsettling, how she looks at him. Still lovestruck in a fantasy even after what he's said. Echo cranes his neck.

“It–” His voice dies when the first word forces itself out; he grunts softly and scrunches his eyes, trying to compose his thoughts better. It's overwhelming; never in a thousand years did he think this would happen. That he’d be in her apartment again; that he’d get to see her again. And that she’d still want him.

“It isn’t fair on you,” He finally manages to say.

The expression on her face Echo isn’t able to read. He used to be so good at telling what she was thinking.

Now she perplexes him; just like everything else in this new life of his.

“Why-why would you think you’re not good enough for me?” How her voice sounds more choked than his, Echo isn’t sure; but it still seizes his heartbeat all the same.

He hadn’t noticed before, but her hands have slowly separated themselves from where they held his and reached up, hovering over his face, shaking slightly in the air as she waits for his permission to continue. He gives it, nonverbally, with a dip of his chin, despite everything supposedly logical in his head saying he shouldn’t allow it.

As her hand cups his cheek, elegant and warm against his skin, he grimaces painfully with a creased brow.

“Because–” He begins, losing his argument the longer he thinks it over. “I said it already. None of this is fair on you.”

“What’s ‘this’?” She responds immediately. To anyone else, she might’ve seemed confused, an ignorant, greedy, and impatient lover who isn’t listening to him. But in her presence again, he picks up on her little mannerisms, her patterns of behavior. It’s a comforting sensation. One of familiarity.

Will he learn how to read her mind again? Only time can tell him, Echo promptly concludes.

“This body,” He responds without a single stammer. Echo wants to look her in the eyes and give her the assurance she needs, but instead, they dart back and forth with uncertainty.

“This life with me, this–“ He groans, the back of his throat dry. “We can’t be normal, cyare.”

A meek ‘pfft’ noise falls past her lips, eyes fluttering up and down in what seems as though a measly attempt at an eye roll.

“We’ve never been normal,” She responds.

Echo frowns far too automatically. Tragically? in part, she isn’t wrong. Allowing yourself to fall for a soldier and let him into your life isn't easy, even for the most tough-willed. Nights when he'd return bloodied and bruised unearth themselves from his clouded memory, and fragments of moments where she'd try to muffle her quiet sobs of relief, wiping away her tears as he held her tight in his arms recur beside them. She constantly lived with a fear he'd never return, and even that came true. His shoulders heave.

“Maybe we haven’t, but-but you know what I mean,” he persists with complete seriousness. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. “I can’t give you the life you deserve.” He gestures to the space around them, the space between them. “One with the perfect, handsome husband and a family and a house.”

When she shrugs, leaning in further and cupping his cheek, he holds back the wry face he wants to flash; she pushes him backward, further into her room, closer to the bed; he still has her layout memorized and etched into his retention. It's one of the only things that the Separatists didn't extract from his brain.

"I don't want 'perfect,'" She makes air quotations in the air as she says that, thinking of the ideal life Echo had illustrated for her. "I want you. I want you just as much as I did before."

He frowns.

"Even with all this?" A hand hovers over hers, gesturing for her to look, really look at the body he has, the metal and the circuits and the superficialness of it all. She gazes for a moment before looking up again.

"If I'm to be completely honest..." She begins, moving so their chests are so close to touching, so close to pressing together so they become one person again, one entity of pure love and adoration. Perhaps those feelings can be revoked unchanged, an optimistic shadow of Echo hopes. "It makes me love you more."

Before he can beg the question how?, she's already continuing. Her other hand reaches up and cups his face endearingly.

"It shows everyone, even me, how strong you are," She marvels innocently, yet undeniably heartwarming. A sting of pain stakes throug his stomach. "My brave ARC trooper who went through and hell and back, and still came back just as wonderful."

His gaze drifts down again; somehow, her words make him even more terrified of looking into her eyes. What if, one day, she looks into his eyes, and doesn’t see that? Sees what he does, a broken figment of a man, a clone who failed his purpose, a soldier who can’t follow orders, no matter how hard they try. And then all this love he’s undeservingly graced with will be gone in just an instant. How selfish of him.

"Just as wonderful..." She still continues. "Just as handsome."

His eyebrows push together, and she pulls him down to kiss where his creases meet; she is a splendor of honey and healing between them in ways he never knew possible. Echo's eyes widen suddenly when he feels her lips against his, for the first time in what felt like a thousand eternities. Something in that moment is stilled; and for a fraction, everything is good. Everything is perfect.

"You're beautiful, Echo," She whispers against him. Her forehead comes to rest where he dips down. His eyes are still closed, but he can picture how she might look quite well. Eyes filled with adoration and hope, hope he so desperately wants her to share with him.

"How-" He begins, choking slightly; his eyes shut harder. If he focuses hard enough, he can't feel her touch; the touch he feels so undeserving of. "How can you say that so easily?"

There’s a thin, unmeaningful pause in the air.

"It's second nature," She responds effortlessly. Her hand strokes his cheek, slowly lulling him to open his eyes and look, don't think, just look. "And because I love you."

And at that moment, he falls apart. Something in him, his lungs perhaps, collapses under the sudden pressure he's pulled into. It's a type of pressure he wants to be under, no doubt about it–he wants to be loved, to be held like this no matter what the sensible part of him thinks–but it remains a slow, painful strangling.

His eyes shut close again and a sob ruptures at the back of his throat, thyroid straining. He leans into her without thinking of the crushing weight– not a step he consciously realizes he's taken, but one nonetheless. Her hands hold his face entirely; how she can be so incredibly firm and keep him so steady, Echo doesn't understand. None of this he can fully comprehend.

Another sob is ripped out of him.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Echo tells her, hushed and sorrowful between two quiet sniffles. "Your voice- I used to play the sound of your voice every day."

"I know, I know," She whispers back, nodding as he talks. Echo isn't lost entirely to pick up on how the words don't match her feelings; she didn't know, and her heart bounds to be swelling with overwhelming adoration. He knows hearing this means the entire galaxy to her; she missed him so, so much.

Why does he feel so much pain then?

He peels open his eyes, blinking away the litter of tears over his face, and allows himself to encircle her waist; they're already so close, and why Echo feels so nervous to simply touch her is puzzling

The softness in her eyes is something powerful. More powerful than a lightsaber-wielding Jedi or the most prepped battleship. Any remaining tolerance he has left completely dissolves under waves of matured, pained, yet beautiful love. Because he can’t deny how much he loves her. How much she makes him feel. That’s a power the Separatists will never have on him.

"Stay the night?" She then asks gently, caressing his cheek. Echo gulps hoarsely as he realizes how long he’d been holding his breath, then nods desperately.

"–If you'll allow me."

She's been in the `fresher for forty-five minutes now.

Told him to 'Get comfortable, I'll be out soon,' and 'You've slept over so many times before, don't feel like a guest,' but he sits stiff atop of the bed, still in denial that this is home. That it's still home after forced abandon. An oh-so-familiar feeling he hasn’t felt in so long rushes through him; its not as comforting as he’d hope it’d be.

Echo can hear her breathing, her soft humming of a lullaby she once confided that her mother always used to sing to her. The same one she sang lowly into his ear when he woke up in a cold sweat, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he held her and crooned to him like a sickly child.

Nightly tire seeps into his eyes, heaves his chest and Echo allows himself to breathe all the way down to his stomach. His lungs feel metallic, just as robotic as the rest of him as he awaits her to come out again. She never takes this long. At least, she never used to. Always efficient and makes so well with her time to keep her water and electric bills down.

Anxieties sweep through. She doesn't want to leave. Can't bear to see him sitting there on her bed again. She regrets her decision. She doesn't love him, she never did, she never will, she...

The door opens. She peaks through her head, a pleading softness etched into her.

"Echo?" She calls out to him.

"Yeah?" Her eyes scan him up and down, and Echo realizes how misplaced he looks. He hasn't sat down completely on the bed yet, his hands on his thighs and his posture perfectly composed, comfortably uncomfortable and so out of place. At least that's how he feels.

"Would you please brush my hair?"

A fond memory rushes through like a wave of warm water. She hates brushing her own hair. Always whines as she tries to untangle all the knots and always asks him to do it for her. The faintest smile graces Echo’s features.

“Of course, cyare.”

She grins softly. He tilts his head slightly.

“What?” He asks, incredulous.

“I missed your voice so much,” She recalls with a nostalgic glint in her eye. “The way you called me cyare.”

His only response is a soft grunt of agreement; he feels the exact same way. He missed the way her voice wrapped around a note, let out a laugh discreetly when she shouldn’t have been amused, hold onto a gasp or relief when he came through the door bruised and bloodied. Everything about it lost in the cryochamber and restored the moment he sits face to face with her now.

Swiftly, he beckons her over and lets her sit beside him, turning her back to him and handing him the brush. The moment he takes it and lets it sift through her hair, the softest moan is coerced out of her lips and she leans back into his touch.

Wordlessly, he continues to brush her wet hair. There's a level of intimacy that can't be reached with skin against skin, heavy pants as he roots himself deep inside of her; they can't reach this level of trust, where her back can be turned against her and allowed to control her vanity. Even after going through hell and back disheveled–half a man, she puts her reliance in him without hesitation.

“I missed this,” He admits in a hushed, almost shameful exhale.

A soft chuckle comes out of her. Somehow, she sounds disbelieved.

”Putting up with my little hissy fits about my hair?” She jests.

He answers with full certainty.

”More than you’ll ever know, cyare.”

She sighs delicately.

”Have I ever told you how much I like that nickname?” She asks.

Echo tilts his head, stopping his hand movements for a split second.

”Cyare?”

She nods.

”I remember the first time you called me that like it was yesterday.”

Echo hums under his breath, continuing to brush her hair. He rakes his brain for the memory she seems to remember so well, eyebrows knitting in focus.

”…I’ve forgotten.”

She nods again, void of maliciousness.

“I was completely wasted at 79’s,” She retells the story for him. “‘Was wobbling and knocking things over. You walked me home and made sure I was okay… and called me that when you were helping me up.”

The image comes to him. Her loopy smile as he attempts to wrap her arm over his shoulder, trying not to enjoy her helplessness too much as he helps her get up and leave 79’s, muttering into her ear softly, ‘Let’s get you home, cyare.’

”…I remember now,” Echo says.

Her hair shifts, head perking up.

”Oh?”

Echo mutters a soft ‘yeah,’ struggling to simultaneously grab all of her hair into a hand and brush it into the palm with the scomp link on his other arm. Even when he tries to do something from his life before, things have changed. Made menially more difficult.

”You asked me to kiss you at your doorstep…” He continues the story, a melancholic tone of recall plaguing him before he can stop himself.

Her head tilts again. It’s making it more difficult for him to brush her hair better, but he doesn’t mind.

”And you said no because I was drunk and not in my right mind…” She fills in the next sentence.

”…And I thought you would regret it the next day," He finishes, running a hand through her hair with finality. She turns her head, wrapping all of her neatly brushed hair to a shoulder and giving him a soft grin.

”I hope you know I wouldn’t have," She says.

He nods, allowing himself to soften further into the bed, borderline beamish.

“Still wouldn’t have kissed a drunk girl.”

The room basks in her sunlit smile. She leans in, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting on his shoulders, and Echo doesn't flinch. He expected to, with how wary and uncertain and unworthy he felt (and still feels) in her mere presence, but he doesn't flinch and it's so damn relieving he wants to cry in a mixture of joy and pain. Kriff, doesn't she look perfect, he dares to think. Isn't everything about her just... perfect. What did I do to deserve her?

She leans in further, pulling him down to meet her in the middle, their foreheads pressing against each other firmly. Her starry eyes carry unrealistic visions but he loves the dream inside them. She smiles, a breathy exhale shared between the little space they share, and she shakes her head without real purpose.

”Ever the gentleman," She mutters.

Echo's the one to make the final motion. He plunges down and captures her bottom lip between his, not even hesitating to embosom her waist with his hand. The upward curl of her lips is so prominent against his mouth; a sickly sweet happiness seeps and exudes off of her and into him. It flows through his veins, seizes his heart for a moment and Echo can't help but gasp. But it's swallowed by her own kiss. They both enrapture each other.

Even then, they revel in the languid motions they can take. Selfishly, Echo decides he wants more of her. All of her, if she'll allow it. He sucks in her bottom lip, parting his and swiping his tongue over hers in the way he always used to do, the way that made her squeak softly in a breathy gasp. She makes the sound again and his life is made in an instant.

The dam waters can’t be held back anymore; worldly anxieties no longer tether him to realism. All that matters is the two of them and the pure love they can have.

Echo squeezes her waist firmly and she breaks away with a smile.

”Didn’t think you’d do that,” She says lowly into his mouth. He only shrugs because her assumption may have been correct; he wasn’t expecting to kiss her.

“Me neither,” He admits aloud. She chuckles silently before kissing him again, making him crane his back to fully reach her the way he wants to. Something in him has been carnally ignited when she lets him hold her and kiss her like this; a feeling he hadn’t experienced in what felt like an eternity since he last saw her is unearthed. He needs all of it; needs all of her again.

He adjusts the two of them, moving her knees to spread her legs apart, and places himself between them; he beckons her to the center of the mattress, his scomp link aside and leaning on his elbow. His hand creeps up her neck into the back of her hair, grounding her into place as Echo allows himself to take.

But when she sighs and her eyes flutter close, he pulls away.

”Does it stand?” The words come out so softly and without structure, Echo is sure she didn’t mean for it to come out.

”What do you mean?” He asks after a moment.

”Is… does it stand the test of time?” Her hands hover over his shoulders now, fingers tentatively and timorously resting on thin air. She's gesturing to the two of them, talking about how this feels, how she feels, if it's okay, if he's satisfied; she treads just as carefully as he did just a few moments before. “The- the test of change?”

What test? The question wishes to beg in his mind. But it doesn't because Echo feels the tug as well. The claustrophobic worry that his anxieties inevitably are true; she won't want him the moment their lips meet again.

"It does for me," He takes a leap into faith. He could carry the same fears and insecurities dear to his chest, or he could look into her eyes and see for himself how she feels. He does; he wants to cry.

She looks so happy. Her eyes crinkling at the corners and her lips spread wide into a blinding smile, she holds her chest softly, as if beckoning for her heart to still. She lets out a small sigh of respite, lifting her arms again to pull him down. When she kisses him, it's drowning in reverence. Drowning in relief.

"Me too," She whispers against his mouth, before seizing his lips again. His eyes scrunch hard against her, as if he’s trying hard to imagine a different world where they can be like this forever. He creates it almost effortlessly. The tenseness in his muscles weaken.

Since Echo was rescued, his chest has ached. His whole body reacted poorly to the prosthetics, each step painful and unworthy of existence. It's slowly subsided, but he feels the ache's hold on him weaken even more. Her simple touch fills empty sockets of his being; so violently stripped of him before, now returned in loving arms.

In the split moments, in their faint beautiful existence, he falls in love again. He kisses her and holds her tight and whispers how damn bad he missed her. The world narrows into a space only the two of them can fit, a galaxy where they can love each other in absolute peace and solitude.

Like real people do.

dividers by @saradika ~ tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch

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gummyfang · 1 month

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♡♡♡ | ˗ˏˋ Passing Stars || Chapter 1 ´ˎ˗

➳　【 C a p t a i n　Ｒ e x　ｘ　Ｒｅａｄｅｒ】

❧ Warnings: 𝐠/𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 / 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐟𝐡), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲/𝐰𝐚𝐫

[ 4.0𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ]

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: first multi-part series. clone fever hit hard. i'm actually really happy with this for a change. This chapter is the set-up for the conflict at hand :) im currently on s6 of TCW and AUFHHGHH i just got past the Fives arc. im a bit insane atm. anyways ENJOYY

“I promise, you will get your rifle back when you leave the premises. It’s just procedure- you’re not authorized to carry any weapons into the Jedi Temple.”

You gritted your teeth at the Guard blocking your path as firmly held onto your sniper rifle, as if he’d have to pluck it from your cold dead hands if he wanted to take it from you.

Despite your stubborn attitude, you knew your faux little display of rebellion was a losing battle. As much as you refused to trust the Jedi, you were left with little choice but to go to them for help.

There was very little on your planet for you to return to, other than the remnants of the cities the Separatist forces had quietly seized for themselves. A sparsely populated planet circling a neutron star, right near the outer edge of the mid rim. Nothing remarkable on its own, but full of mining communities ripe for the Separatists to exploit for their excessive droid production.

For as far as you knew, you were the only one who’d been able to penetrate the blockade.

You sniffed, still agitated as you dropped the sniper rifle into the storage bin. The thought of the poor working conditions your people were being put through to mine materials for those bastards was enough to temporarily put yourself past your distaste for the Republic.

“Thank you.” the Guard responded dryly, unable to hide the hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Be careful with it.” you sneered, almost shoulder checking the man on your way past him. If you were being honest with yourself, you had to acknowledge you were being unreasonable with this poor man. He was only here to do his job and people like you did not make it any easier. But being subject to an invasion had clouded your sense of self, and maybe your ability to be reasonable. Just a little.

You were led to a woman dressed in robes, but you did not know enough about the clothing habits of the Jedi to tell whether she was one of them or not. She nodded, exchanging a few friendly words and beckoning for you to follow her. Your arrival was expected.

A sense of unease washed over you as you made your way through the towering hallways of the Temple. The air tasted warm and stale, the building’s age and the many people that passed through it permeating through its scent. The hallways were far from empty, used for conversation, and in some cases even training, judging by the bright light emitting from those unsettling trademark blades they carried.

Keeping your head low, you ignored the passing glances that were being sent your way.

A morbid part of you wish you’d died and the torch of fate had been passed on to another unfortunate soul, one more equipped to deal with diplomatic matters such as these. But these were the cards you’d been dealt, and you had little choice but to play them now.

The tapping of the lady’s shoes accelerated as she swiftened her step, opening the door for you. She moved out of the way, gesturing for you to head inside as she stood outside the door. It was clear she was not accompanying you any further, so you gave her a curt nod and stepped through the opening.

When the heavy metal doors fell shut behind you with a loud thunk, you were met by several pairs of eyes fixated on you. As if you were a scared animal, you could feel the hair in your neck begin to rise. Despite your feverish thoughts of reassurance and weak attempts to ease your nerves, your sense of unease had failed to dissipate.

There were three of them. None of their heads adorned the same mask as the woman that had guided you through the hallways, and two of them were sporting similar robes, though there were some differences in how they wore them. Jedi, you were sure of it.

As soon as you’d entered the room, the taller of the two Jedi took a step forward. He had a striking appearance, eyebrows casting a shadow over his blue eyes. Across his right ran a scar, marking his experience in combat. His robes were black and reddish brown, much darker than those of the red-robed young togruta who stayed in her place by the table. You did not fail to take note of the weapons hanging off their hips, subconsciously feeding into your discomfort even more.

The man in the corner stood out from the two. He was clearly not a Jedi. In the absence of robes, his body was instead covered in full white armor painted with blue stripes. This included his head, covered by a broad helmet covered in markings. A clone, you realized, eyes widening slightly. Your life being mostly secluded to a neutral planet in a neutral system, you’d only ever see brief glances of them on propaganda posters and on the occasional business trip to systems under Republic control.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the tall Jedi cleared his throat. When you gave him a good look a second time, you noticed he’d moved his hand to cover the hilt of his lightsaber, as had the younger one in the back. Right, Jedi. Mindreaders.

“Welcome.” he began, giving you a small nod. You nodded back, waiting for him to continue.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker. This is my Padawan, Ahsoka Tano.” He gestured towards his apprentice, who in turn also greeted you with a small nod. You briefly glanced at the clone in the corner, but he did not speak up to introduce himself, nor did Anakin make a move to introduce him. Oh well. Maybe he was not to be in contact with you directly, who knows what hierarchy they set up in these Temples?

“[Name].” you responded briefly, nothing more, nothing less.

“[Name].” Anakin echoed your name back at you. “It was your distress signal we received last week, then. We know the basic details of the situation described, but following your message, the Council has been unable to make contact with any representative from your planet. Would you mind explaining what’s going on back there?” You scoffed.

“I would, actually. Having said that, I want to make it clear I am not telling you anything before we have laid down some ground rules.” Despite the hints towards their ability to read your mood and mind from earlier, this seemed to catch them all by surprise. Anakin’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and Ahsoka exchanged a glance with the clone behind him.

“Not telling u- But you’re the one who contacted us for help.” His voice was stern, but mostly laced with surprise.

“The only reason I visited this war-forsaken place was because this is the Jedi’s conflict to resolve! Nobody else’s!” you snarled, somehow working up the courage to jab him in his chest. “The Hakheen system has been a neutral system for the entire duration of the war that you started. We’ve done everything we can to keep ourselves uninvolved with the conflict- and a decade of hard work was undone when you decided to take over our only two neighboring systems! Your thoughtless actions are what put us on the Separatist radar which has now resulted in a full hostile planetary takeover!”

“What?” the togruta spoke up for the first time, giving you a wide-eyed stare.

It was just as you feared. Hakheen’s takeover had been effectively kept a secret from the rest of the galaxy. Not only did that mean the Jedi Order would only have your word to go off, it also meant you really had been the only person to escape the droid suppression and the blockade around the planet.

“You’re sure? The entire planet has been subject to a takeover, not just your region?” Anakin chimed back in, putting himself past your hostile disposition towards him.

“Trust me, General, I don’t want to be here either. I’d rather have come groveling at the feet of anyone before I came licking the boots of the Jedi Order. But the scale of this invasion has left me with no choice but to come knocking at your door. Like I said, this is your responsibility and you are to fix this mess that you made. After we have been liberated, the Republic will leave us be and we can call this even.”

Ahsoka struggled to speak for a moment, the markings across her brow furrowing. “But that’s not a fair assessment to make.” she retorted. Your gaze met with hers, feeling your blood begin to run a few degrees hotter with building anger. “The Jedi Order only steps in when-” “Snips.” Anakin’s firm voice interrupted her. The Jedi had turned his head to face her, shooting her a warning glance. “Enough.”

This was difficult enough as is. You clearly did not trust either of them, which meant that any form of discussion or negotiation was going to be a struggle. Even if they didn’t agree with your point of view, there was no point in arguing against it. Letting the Separatists enslave the population of a planet being used for a large-scale assault against the Republic was not something they could ignore regardless.

You were grateful for the intervention. Ahsoka was clearly younger than you, but given the situation and your emotional state, you don’t know how long you could’ve kept your cool.

“I agree that we should stage a counterattack. It’s in everyone’s best interest, from what you have described.” Anakin explained calmly. “But that doesn’t mean we can just blindly agree to your terms. Regardless of whether or not we believe you- and trust me, we do- we will need more concrete proof that what you are saying is true. And if we are to negotiate terms like this with you, you need some form of political status.” Averting your eyes, you stared at the ground. You didn’t have a proper response to that. Sure, you had political aspirations growing up, but the situation you grew up in did not allow many people from Hakheen to pursue their dreams. Despite your promising education, like most people, you were forced to sell animal parts you and your family hunted to make ends meet. There was no room and no budget to invest in some vague ambassadorial aspirations, and this was likely the furthest you’d come in that regard.

“There were others.” you decided to pivot, realizing there was no lying your way out of this anyways. “I was with a group of six escapees. Among them was our Minister of Intersystemary Affairs and two ambassadors to different planets in the Outer Rim, don’t know which.” For the first time in that conversation you looked desperate. You eyed Anakin questioningly, slightly hopeful your presumptions were incorrect.

“We… haven’t heard anything but your distress signal.” he responded quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You could feel your heart skin in your chest. That severely complicated the situation. Although you hated to admit it, Anakin was right. Nobody on Coruscant had any reason to take someone of your age and status, or rather lack thereof, seriously.

After a moment of silence, Anakin took a step back. “Either way, this is enough information to alert the Council and to send people to look into the situation. Especially considering the urgency, this will be dealt with swiftly.”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose in thought and frustration. “Even with how long the Senate takes to allow, well… fucking anything?”

“For matters that impede our ability to defend ourselves we don’t have to run it by the Senate. Otherwise we’d be handing our asses on a plate to the Seppies at their every move.” He cracked a grin at his own joke before quickly steeling his expression again. “Considering what you told us about an imminent attack on neighboring systems, I consider that more than enough probable cause to take action.” You softly exhaled a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. Seems like something was going your way at the very least. Bitterly, you thought how the impending attack on the Republic was the only incentive they had to act so quickly. Still, you’d take their selfish help over waiting for your people to die anyday.

“You two, with me.” Anakin turned around. “We will be right back.” The clone and the padawan followed right behind him, and you watched the door close, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Just as you were, Rex was also left to stew in his own thoughts as he followed the two Jedi out of the meeting room. The information weighed on his mind. He’d of course heard the stories of how the Trade Federation attempted to pressure Naboo into signing a treaty with a takeover and a blockade. It wasn’t entirely new territory for the Jedi Order to deal with. But he’d never heard of a successful quiet overtake to this extent before. This was on a whole new level, even for the Separatists.

Furthermore, he was not entirely sure what to make of the character they’d just met. Although he had nothing against you personally, you did not present yourself as the easiest person to work with. They were going to have to find a way past that if you really were the only person who could testify about what the Separatists were carrying out on Hakheen.

Still, there was a lot he admired about you, even from such a short interaction.

Separatist blockades could be a serious hazard. Those things had cost the Republic a lot of men over the years, both regular pilots and clones alike. It was nothing short of a miracle you had managed to break through one, but was also undoubtedly a sign of skill on some level.

He also had to admit he admired your resolve. For as far as he could tell, you weren’t military. Time and time again he’d seen that the challenge of stepping up for what was right was too difficult for many people, even if the situation forced them too. You’d proved well enough you were not a part of that group.

“Rex, a moment. Snips, you go on ahead.”

On queue, the clone captain straightened his back. “General Skywalker.”

Anakin looked between him and Ahsoka rounding the corner at the end of the hallway before continuing. “I think you should stay with our guest. I was originally going to have Ahsoka stay with them while I discussed our plan of action with you, since she’s probably a bit better at small talk than the two of us. But, as you could see, our friend isn’t exactly comfortable around a bunch of Jedi.”

Your discomfort was hard to miss, even without the outright spiteful curses you spat at them.

“Good point, sir. But don’t you think this discomfort extends to any aspect of the Republic?”

“Eh, not really.” Anakin shrugged. ��But it’s worth a shot. It’s not what I sensed, anyways. And I don’t think they’re particularly eager to hang out with Snips after what happened back there. We need them around here in case the Council wants to question them. Just act relaxed, try to put them at ease.”

Rex hummed. “Alright sir. I’ll await further instructions.” he stated, nodding quickly before turning back around.

Though you couldn’t discern what they were saying, the fact you could hear their voices humming faintly through the thick doors made you uneasy. They were talking about you, you were sure of it. The General had sounded sincere enough when you explained your situation to him, but you had no way to tell whether he was being sincere or not. The Jedi had a reputation for being deceptive, and for likening themselves to heroes despite being warmongers.

For all you knew, you’d done nothing but initiate a second territorial takeover with this stunt. But, then again, doing anything to try and fix the situation was worth trying over being complacent with the millions of deaths on your home planet.

You were snapped out of your restless train of thought by the door sliding back open, revealing the clone captain from earlier standing in the doorway. The Jedi were no longer with him. Probably they’d gone off to relay your message to that Council they mentioned earlier, you figured.

As the man headed towards one of the chairs on the other side of the meeting room table, your eyes followed him sharply, though it was more out of curiosity than distrust. Although you’d seen and heard a couple of clones distantly during your business trips to nearby Republic systems, this was the first time you encountered one up close and personal.

Of course you'd seen that helmet plenty of times, whether it be on Republic propaganda posters or the holonet. It almost looked fake to be met with one in real life. Though you noted his was far more decorated than the ones you’d seen in illustrations before. Aside from the two deep blue markings glaring at you above his visor, the surface was absolutely covered in tally marks. You could only guess whether it represented the number of lives he took or the number of battles he’d fought his way through, but you didn’t doubt it marked his skill in combat.

“Ah, right. Sorry. Where are my manners?” His modulated voice snapped you out of your gaze. You could feel the embarrassment rise up in your chest as you realized you’d been staring at him like a frightened lothcat.

Swiftly, the man removed his helmet, leaving it to rest on his hip under his arm. Once again, the face you were met with was one you’d definitely seen in illustrations many times before, but never had you seen it in person.

“No, no, I’m sorry.” you apologized with a dull tone, too flustered to keep looking him in the eye. “I was staring.”

Rex cracked a small smile as he placed his battle-worn helmet down on the table, taking a seat diagonally across from yours. Quietly, he still wondered how he was going to approach you, considering mediation was not exactly his specialty. However, it seemed that Anakin was right to a certain extent at least. They’d only just left the room and your attitude was already nothing like it was five minutes ago.

“I’ve never met a clone before.” you continued at his silence, feeling the need to explain yourself.

“Right. We don’t go to neutral systems unless we have a good reason to. Having our men on ground untouched by the war usually causes more unrest than it is worth. You don’t visit Republic systems often, then?”

“Not much, no.” you replied, slacking your shoulders a little. “Sometimes, though. To sell our stuff elsewhere. We're hunters.” Rex rested his elbow on his knee, leaning forward. “Hunters, eh?” he asked, interested. His position did not often require him to make small talk with civvies.

“Yeah. Most of our planet’s exports are minerals. My family members from a few generations back or something decided to capitalize on something else. I mean- We sell most of our meat on Hakheen, but the horns and bones are sought after in other systems. But… yeah, that’s probably not something that’s going to draw any clones to our booth.”

“Guess not.” Rex chuffed, leaning back into his seat again with crossed arms. The captain was not exactly familiar with your planet or the wildlife it contained, but he figured it wasn’t a small deal if it was worth the transport to other systems to sell your products.

The room became quiet again as you both struggled to find something to say. You found the courage to look up at him again, giving his face a proper look.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt you’d seen that face countless times online before, but there were a lot of details to his appearance that set him apart from the mental image of a clone you’d built up over the years. The most obvious was that his roots were blonde, as opposed to the trademark brown you were used to reading about. You vaguely wondered if he dyed it to stand out as an individual, or if it was a phenotypic abnormality he was born with.

The second thing that caught your attention were his eyes. They were nothing like the cold, battle-hungry stares you’d come to learn they all supposedly had. There was a certain tension to his posture that stayed present even as the two of you conversed about nothing, but his eyes carried a strength that was more reassuring than threatening. It honestly made him a lot more handsome than the faces you remembered from the posters.

Rex cleared his throat, thinking of a sensible way to ask the question that weighed on his mind.

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir… How were you able to penetrate the blockade? We’ve lost a lot of good men to those, no matter the size of the blockade. It might help us strategize on how to get through.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers interlocking nervously. You hated thinking back to that day. The trip to Coruscant had been a laborious traumatizing trip on its own, but it did not compare to the hell you had to endure to break through the Separatist army.

“Apologies. I shouldn't have asked that until General Skywalker is back.”

“No.” you quickly responded. “No, it’s fine. Honestly though, it’s probably not the answer you’re looking for. I just- I just got lucky.” Feet rubbing together in a nervous tic, you continued. “I know none of the crafts near the west of the capital did not even make it out of the atmosphere. My group all managed to overwhelm the droids stationed at the southeastern airport for long enough to hijack a few spacecrafts. From there on out I guess I just got lucky.”

“It takes more than just luck to survive something like this.” Rex reassured you gently. Though he sounded genuine, you couldn’t agree with him.

“To a certain extent, perhaps. But I was panicking and I guess that ended up being in my favor. We all decided to split up to heighten our chances of one of us breaking through. I heated up my hyperdrive as soon as I passed the atmosphere and just prayed to whatever gods I could think of that I wouldn't blast myself through a star.”

“You didn’t do calculations?”

“No, none. I was right above a city south of the capital when I made the jump. Didn’t end up seeing any ships from the blockade, but they must have been there. Nobody else I left ever contacted me after I made it through.”

Rex made a mental note to ask you about the details of that location later. Identifying a potential weak spot in their blockade could be vital to a successful mission, but he sensed you’d been asked enough about this for today.

“It’s good that you took that risk. I promise your case is in good hands with General Skywalker. He personally insisted on tackling it as soon as he received your distress signal. We will do everything to ensure your planet will be free of Seppies when we leave.”

Despite sighing through your nose, you managed to flash him a weak smile. Even if you weren’t particularly fond of the Jedi Order and the factions it was allied with, you had desperately needed someone to just be kind to you after the horrendous situation you’d found yourself in for the past week.

“Thank you, uh…” Your voice trailed off as you stared at him, questioningly.

“Captain Rex. At your service.”

You gave him a proper smile this time, nodding. You were about to open your mouth to continue the conversation, when a high-pitched beeping started emanating from Rex’s wrist. His comlink. You stared as he pressed the button, a light blue hologram of the General you’d met earlier springing up from the device. “Rex, you should come over here. Both of you.”

#star wars #gummyfang #captain rex #captain rex x reader #the clone wars #clone troopers #clone wars #the bad batch #passing stars #501st legion #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano

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jedipoodoo · 10 months

Note

This might be a weird request, you don't have to write this okay! But... How about Imperal bad batch ( seperated) and pregnant reader? Hunter turns into the darks side while his wife is pregnant (almost like Anakin and Padme

THIS REQUEST GOT ME LIKE

Ma'am, I will answer any and all requests for a pregnant reader and you know that. I'm sorry for taking so long, but I really wanted to do this one justice 😁

Haunted (Imperial! Hunter x Pregnant!Fem!Reader)

Okay, so most of my Dad Batch shorts mention keeping the baby from the kaminoans and the like, so....what if they couldn't keep the baby from them???

Warnings: labor and delivery, pregnancy (obvi), kidnapping, The Empire sucks, Nala Se is a pain in the shebs, Nobody likes Wilhuff Tarkin. This one is a lot darker than my usual stuff. Dark may be too strong of a word for it, but idk how else to put it.

Notes: what it says on the label. Pregnant reader, female reader. Hunter is manipulated. Protective Hunter, Angst without a happy ending...yet. Dividers by @saradika

"Hold on just a minute more, cyare, we're almost there," Hunter urged. Echo peeked around the corner, signaling for Hunter to freeze. Hunter, holding one of your hands to lead you and wrapping the other around your waist to hold you upright, pulled you against the wall to keep from being seen around the corner. He could hear the slow, meandering gait of a Kaminoan as they walked past the hall, unsuspecting, taking all the time in the world while you struggled not to whimper at the pain in Hunter's arms.

Hunter gently patted your belly, as if that would make everything better.

"You're doing great," He whispered.

"I'm gonna kill you," You growled.

Echo hissed a warning, waving you both forward. The Kaminoan was gone.

Your comm beeped softly, and Hunter snatched it up, trying to get you to move faster when all you could do was waddle.

"Come in, Tech."

"The medical wing has been cleared. Wrecker and Crosshair will stand guard."

"Good. We're two minutes out."

"AHH!" Your knees gave out as a contraction tore through your body, and you almost slipped out of Hunter's arms.

Hunter gently lowered you to the floor to let you catch your breath, "Breathe, sweetheart, just keep breathing," He urged. It was in some stupid holo-article that he had read online, and despite the amount of research he'd put into labor and delivery, that tactic in particular was starting to get super annoying. Breathing was one of the last things on your mind when you had

"Is that one worse than the last few?" Echo asked. He was trying to be gentle, force bless him he was, but his grip on your arm was struggling not to pull you to your feet and drag you to safety.

You looked up at Hunter, and froze. Despite the fact that every single thing he was trying to do at the moment was annoying you to no end, you could see the fear quavering in his eyes.

You all knew that if the Kaminoans found you, as arrogant and self-serving as they were, they would unquestionably seize your child as Kaminoan property, enfolding him (or her) into the sea of identical brothers bred for slaughter. Neither Hunter or his brothers were going to let that happen.

"Osik," Hunter muttered none too softly. You followed his gaze to the floor, where a sticky puddle was forming from your water breaking. Osik was right.

Hunter slipped his arms under your legs and your back and hefted you in the air. He didn't even wait for the all-clear from Echo, he just ran to the med-wing.

"Hunter, I can walk-" but the next contraction stole your breath and proved you wrong. Hunter ran faster, and you could hear Echo struggling to catch up with you. You wrapped your arms around Hunter's neck and prayed.

Wrecker and Crosshair waved you past, sealing the door shut behind you. Only Tech and a single med-droid were in the tiny medical wing they had managed to clear.

"The droid's memory will be wiped the moment we are finished," Tech promised before you could voice your worries. Hunter gently sat you on the table, bracing your feet in the stirrups.

"Her contractions are two minutes and thirty seconds apart," Hunter said. The droid quickly ran a few scans to confirm and Tech handed you a large sheet of paper that hardly counted as a robe.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

You gulped, bracing yourself against another contraction. Whether or not you were ready, your baby was coming.

There was pounding on the door, but you could barely hear their demands of "Open up in there!" over the squalls of your baby.

"It's a boy," Tech said, almost as an afterthought as the droid cut the umbilical cord.

Hunter pressed his lips to your forehead, despite how sweaty and gross you felt. "Good job, cyare," He whispered, "You did so good."

You nodded, unable to think straight. "The baby..." You reached for the child bundled in Tech's arms. Hunter sprung to his feet and took them from Tech as gently as he could, bringing the baby back over to you.

"Oh," You gasped softly, running a finger across their cheek. It was a little sticky, like something that had been dried haphazardly, and their hair was still slick with blood and fluids, but you brushed it out with your fingers, letting the dark curls spring into place as he wriggled with all his newborn strength.

"He looks just like you, Hunter," You whispered.

"The spitting image," Tech had already shut down the droid to wipe its memory circuits, and you took the baby from Hunter, pressing him against your chest.

"Mama's here, Mama's here," You said, kissing the baby over and over.

The pounding on the door had stopped, but there was lots of shouting. Hunter's gaze darted to the door as he heard Wrecker cry out.

"We've got to get you out of here," He said, pulling you to your feet. You stumbled like a newborn fathier colt, leaning against him.

"I-I can't," You gasped. You tried to give him the baby, "You have to take him,"

"I'm not leaving you," He insisted.

"Now is not the time for affectionate stubbornness, Hunter, she's right. You have to get him out of here before-"

There was blasterfire in the hall, and you saw sparks fly as several bolts hit the door. Your son wailed unhappily and you reached for him, only to pull your hand back at the last moment.

"Go!" You begged Hunter, but it was too late.

The door that Tech had painstakingly sealed shut slid open, and eight shock troopers pointed their blasters into the room, aiming for you, Hunter, and the baby.

"Place the infant on the table and step back," Their captain commanded.

"No," Ever the contrarian, Hunter shielded your son from their view.

You hadn't even named him yet.

Just beyond the wall of troopers, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo had all been forced to their knees with their hands behind their heads. The bodies of several other Shock Troopers and Kaminoan security troopers were strewn about the hall, dead or alive it was hard to tell, but the Batch wasn't going down without a fight.

Admiral Tarkin stepped into the doorway to take in the damage for himself, but what made your blood run cold was Nala Se standing behind him.

"You will not take my child!" You screamed. stumbling to your feet to stand between your son and the blasters.

"Your child is Kaminoan property," Nala Se said calmly, despite the bodies of her creation littered around her.

"Imperial Property," Tarkin corrected harshly, "Much like your supposed lover and his squad. Lieutenant, you are stripped of your title and imprisoned for your crimes. CT-9901, you are also henceforth removed from your post as Sergeant. You are all under arrest."

"She has just given birth!" Tech finally spoke up, "She will not be going anywhere until she heals! Unless you wish to have her death on your hands?"

You hadn't even named him yet.

Tarkin shrugged, "Dead or alive, it makes no difference." He waved to the troopers who approached with several sets of binder cuffs like the others wore.

"No!" You screamed and leaped at the troopers. You were unable to do more than crash into them, but it gave Hunter a shot at getting through, and that was all you could hope for.

With your son secured to his chest, Hunter dashed out of the room and past the astonished Nala Se and a flabbergasted Tarkin. You smirked to yourself as you slid down to the floor, breathing heavily.

Tech grabbed your arm to steady you, and both of you were grabbed by the troopers

Hunter knew the halls of Kamino like the back of his hand. Once he made it past the original wave, there was little to stop the (former) sergeant of Clone Force Ninety-Nine.

His baby whimpered in his arms, and he hurriedly hushed them.

He'd come back for you later, or maybe his brothers would help you escape, somewhere quiet and peaceful like you'd always talked about after the war. Somewhere you could raise your family in peace.

But for now, he was only worried about doing what you'd said, and that was getting your son to safety.

"It's alright, ad'ika, we're gonna get you out of here," He whispered, pressing his lips against the boy's forehead.

"I'll keep you safe."

Alarms blared to signal his escape, which made it harder to calm the baby, but also simultaneously hid their cries.

Hunter wished that his brothers were with him, but they had all agreed to this. They had all insisted that your child was priority, and they would defend it like one of their Vode, just as they had when you joined them.

Hunter ran faster, on deft feet, always knowing which hall to take in order to avoid a clumsy stampede.

The Marauder was docked in the bay closest to the medwing, Echo needed a checkup after their last mission, but it seemed serendipitous when your contractions started in the early morning. You knew the Kaminoans would see this as openly flaunting your blatant disregard for their authority in their own city. You'd wanted to have your baby anywhere but Tipoca City, but then you'd received orders to return to Kamino with the end of the war.

Hunter grit his teeth, avoiding patrols was keeping him from going as fast as he'd like,and his son's cries were getting more and more agitated. It was a pitiful replacement, but he stuck his finger in the child's mouth to let him suck on it. As soon as he took off, he could give him the formula aboard the Marauder and look him over.

"Most childcare experts agree that there is a distinct possibility that hyperspace travel at such a delicate stage can be detrimental to child's development," Tech's voice echoed in Hunter's mind. But that couldn't be helped right now.

He turned the corner towards the bay, but it was blocked by another squad of Shock Troopers. Before he could think, he drew his blaster.

"Hunter!" You screamed in terror. Hunter's blood ran ice-cold as he spotted you.

You were on your knees, held upright by two troopers, and an Admiral (or someone else who wore one of those gray suits) had a blaster pointed at your head. Tarkin met Hunter's gaze with a smug smile.

"You made a valiant effort in your escape, Sergeant. I can only imagine how much that child means to you."

Hunter shifted the baby, holding him closer. The boy was starting to grow frantic again, now that he didn't have anything to suck on.

"However," Tarkin continued, "Much like yourself, the child is now property of the Galactic Empire. Attempting to steal him is treason."

"If I'm already committing treason, I might as well shoot you here and seal the deal." Hunter focused his aim on Tarkin.

"You could, couldn't you?" Tarkin barked a cold, humorless laugh,

"However, the moment you open fire, Vice Admiral Rampart has orders to shoot at point-blank range."

You shook your head desperately. "Hunter, don't!"

"Hand over the infant, now!" Tarkin said. His lackey in an identical suit pressed the blaster to the base of your throat, cutting off your protest.

"What will it be: the child? Or it's mother?" Tarkin sneered.

It was over. Hunter knew that. Even if he did as you asked, he still wouldn't be able to get past the Shock Troopers. His sons cries were like ringing in his ears as he tossed his blaster to the side.

They took his son from his arms, and all he could say was "Support his head!" as they turned away so that Hunter couldn't even see him anymore, but he listened to his cries as they were dragged in opposite directions.

You and Hunter were brought to what sufficed as the brig in Tipoca City. Tech, Echo, Crosshair, and Wrecker were already there, and they hurried to make room for you to sit on the only bench available. Your legs were shaking terribly, and you were sore all over. The pain medication Tech had given you was starting to wear off. Tech gave you a once-over as best he could without his datapad or any medical gear.

"Most of this recovery takes several months anyway, even without the added stress you've been through," He said, it what must have been an objectively positive observation, but only served to remind you of everything you had just lost.

"Where's the kid?" Crosshair demanded. Hunter couldn't even look him in the eye from the insane guilt he felt at giving up his son. All you could do was cry.

Crosshair cursed and slammed his fist against the wall, though he didn't know what he was expecting from an operation like this. Clone Force 99 had never known failure like this before, it was a foreign feeling to them.

Hunter refused to let himself cry. He had to be strong for his brothers, for you and your son. He had to get you out of there, somehow.

He didn't even know how you could bare to look at him for such a catastrophic failure, but you turned to him and wrapped your arms around his chest, pulling him close to you.

"We...we didn't even get to name him," You whimpered in Hunter's arms.

Hunter's jaw stiffened atop the crown of your head.

"Well, let's name him now."

It felt slightly pathetic, sobbing in a jail cell over a child that had been ripped from your arms, but the idea of naming him felt like a rousing battle cry deep in your soul. The Kaminoans hated the names that the clones gave each other, and despite all the nicknames that they claimed and gave to each other, at the end of the day only their numbers were written on reports and official documentation.

But your son wasn't a clone. He was your son. And he would have a name from birth.

"Asher." You said. Where you came from, the name symbolized hope, of something beautiful and precious being created from the ashes of destruction. Something like your life as a family.

Hunter nodded, gently rubbing circles into your shoulders. "Asher it is."

"CT-9901, you need to come with us."

Ice encased your heart as the shock troopers approached the makeshift cell, deactivating the shield.

"Don't," You begged, looking up at him as your hands dug into his shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I have to," He whispered, working your fingers loose so he could stand.

"She's right," Echo said loudly, standing up.

"Yes, we stay together." Tech stepped between Hunter and the shock trooper.

The trooper did not take kindly to this show of defiance, and drove the butt of his blaster into Tech's stomach. Tech fell to his knees as he gasped in pain, and the others all stood ready to fight, but knowing it was fruitless.

"Enough," Hunter stood, motioning to his brothers to stand down.

"I'll go."

He wasn't cuffed, but there was a blaster muzzle in his back every step of the way. The troopers led him back to the med bay, where several medical droids were still cleaning the room that you had commandeered earlier. The troopers marched him past the room and past a large window where several cadets were going through their checkups. And right in the corner was Asher.

Hunter disregarded the warnings from the Troopers and place his hand against the window, wishing he could catch his son's attention. He was in an incubation box, sound asleep, with monitors strapped to his chest. Hunter was just relieved he wasn't in a growth tube.

"Asher," He murmured as a shock trooper gripped his shoulder, "Your name is Asher."

The troopers all but dragged him to another closed-off room, where Tarkin waited with Nala Se and a datapad. Hunter kept his focus on Tarkin, wondering if the so-called "Admiral" had spent as much time with a hot blaster in his hand than in a comfortable office on Coruscaunt.

"We meet again, Sergeant."

Hunter chuckled, "I thought I wasn't a Sergeant anymore, Admiral."

"I suppose you'd prefer to be called CT-9901, then?"

So the Admiral did know about their chosen names, he just chose not to use them.

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to not let his breathing get the best of him.

"What I need is your cooperation,"

Hunter shrugged, "Sounds simple enough. Just let them go."

He knew it was a fool's dream to think that Tarkin would actually acquiesce to his demands, but he had to try.

"Let my wife, son, and brothers go and I'll do whatever you want."

Tarkin squared his shoulders to challenge Hunter, "Certainly not. That would be a grave mistake on our part. Think of all that we could learn. The Empire has other plans for a force-sensitive child."

Hunter's blood ran cold.

"Oh, you didn't know," Tarkin smiled slyly, and Hunter's hands clenched in an effort to keep from slapping the smirk off his face.

Nala Se handed Tarkin her datapad, "Nala Se's team has performed all the necessary tests and administered the correct vaccinations for your child. A quick blood test showed a count of approximately fifteen-thousand midi-chlorians."

Hunter's throat ran dry, and his ears rang with the sound of his son- Asher's- cries.

"You have a simple choice, Sergeant. Join the Empire freely, stay with your brothers, your partner and your child, or be forced to watch them suffer for your treason."

It wasn't much of a choice, and Hunter knew it. They were offering him the short end of the stick to pull him from the same raging rapids they had tossed him into, but it was either that or drown.

And he would sacrifice everything he was for the chance to protect you and your child.

Post-Script: I know I've used Asher as a name for Crosshair's kid but it fit too well for this AU.

#lizart writes #the bad batch #sergeant hunter #the bad batch x reader #hunter #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #imperial hunter #tbb hunter x reader #Hunter x reader #Tbb hunter x you #Imperial au #imperial hunter x reader #pregnant reader #dad batch

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weevil-wallflower · 25 days

Text

Scars

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: Even a Jedi Knight needs some reassurance from time to time.

Warnings/Tags: Spoilers for Jedi: Survivor, canon-typical violence, SFW, no use of Y/N, minor angst.

A.N.: My fifth entry for Cal Kestis Week 2024! It follows the Day 4 prompt ‘Scars’. I've been meaning to get this one out like four days ago, on the last day of Cal Kestis Week but unfortunately work and studies prevented me from finishing it on time. And yes, another older prompt but I simply had to use this idea! Gif by me!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: ~1,600

The final moments of Cal’s fight with Dagan were a blur of pain and fury. As the duel between Cal and Dagan came to a brutal end, Dagan’s lightsaber struck Cal across his chest, sending a shockwave of agony through his body. The sizzling sound of burning flesh filled the air as Cal staggered, his tunic scorched around the fresh wound while his lightsaber clattered to the floor.

The redhead clutched the wound as he felt the charred fabric of his tunic cling to the cauterised wound. The world around him flipped as he collapsed to the ground, his vision narrowing to the sight of Dagan’s triumphant sneer.

Taking in a deep breath and pushing away the pain for the moment, Cal Force-pulled his lightsaber towards him and used one of Dagan’s own hallucinations against him. He focused intently, allowing the Force to shape his image into that of Santari, Dagan’s late friend. The vision caught Dagan off guard, his defense faltering as he grappled with the apparition of the one person who he trusted most. Seizing the opportunity, Cal's lightsaber blazed with lethal accuracy, piercing right through Dagan's chest. Dagan's pained scream was mixed with a sizzling sound as the blade tore through muscle and bone. Cal twisted the sword, guaranteeing a fatal strike.

Just as victory appeared to be imminent, Dagan used the Force to painfully seize Cal's body, suspending him mid-air. Dagan’s voice, filled with rage and desperation, rang through the chamber as he yelled about Tanalorr, his dream fading away. Cal struggled against the invisible grip, his own strength waning.

BD-1, seeing the peril his friend was in, acted swiftly. With frantic beeps and nudges, the little droid managed to wake Bode, who had previously been rendered unconscious by Dagan. Realising the dire situation, Bode aimed his blaster at Dagan and fired, the shot breaking Dagan’s concentration and releasing Cal from his grasp.

With a final lethal strike to across the chest, Cal sent Dagan crumpling to the ground, his body twitching as the life drained from his eyes. Cal stood over him, his chest heaving with the effort and pain of the fight.

Bode slowly approached the redhead, his expression a mix of relief and concern. “Cal, are you okay?” He asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Cal glanced at Bode, his face a mask of determination despite the agonising pain in his chest. "I'm fine," he lied, his voice strained. All he wanted was to get away from there and be in your comforting arms.

Bode studied him for a moment, seeing through the facade but deciding not to press further. He placed a reassuring hand on Cal's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "You did good, brother," Bode said softly, his tone filled with warmth. "Go on ahead. I'll stay and survey the area. And see if I can find a manual for that compass or something..."

Cal nodded, a wave of gratitude washing over him at Bode's support. "Thanks, Bode," he replied, his voice a bit more genuine.

With a final look at his fallen foe and a nod to Bode, Cal turned and made his way back towards Pyloon’s Saloon. Hand pressed to the wound on his chest, each step sent a wave of pain radiating through his body but he forced himself onwards, driven by the need to be with you. He knew that in your arms, he would find the solace and comfort he desperately needed.

When he finally entered your shared quarters below Pyloon’s Saloon, stumbling in through the back door—most likely to avoid everyone in the cantina—You were already there waiting for him, your expression one of great concern. As soon as Cal stumbled in, BD-1 hopped down from his back, rushing over to You with worried beeps about the Jedi.

“Cal,” You said softly, rushing over to his side. “Let me take a look at that.”

He nodded, his emerald eyes meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and resignation. His tunic sported a burnt slash across his chest where the lightsaber had struck him, the fabric singed and charred around the wound. Carefully, You guided him to sit on the bed, your touch gentle but firm. You gently pried his tunic off, being careful not to aggravate the wound further before You began to examine the injury. BD-1 perched on your shoulder, his beeps and chirps a constant stream of worry as he watched You work.

When the wound came into view, You couldn’t help but gasp at the horrible sight, your heart aching for the pain Cal had endured. The wound was a searing, angry red slash across his chest, blackened at the edges and blistered from the intense heat of the lightsaber.

The silence in your quarters was thick with unspoken words. As You worked, Cal couldn’t help but shakily trail his fingers over the fresh slash on his chest, wincing at the pain but also more at the thought of yet another mark added to his already scarred body. Each one told a story of pain and survival, a testament to the battles he had fought. His body was already littered with scars—what was another?

The redhead’s mind swirled with anguished thoughts. How could You, someone so beautiful and kind, love someone like him? How could You look at his scarred body and see anything other than ugliness—to see someone who was capable of more than just war and violence? The doubts gnawed at him, twisting in his gut like a knife.

After cleaning the wound and sealing it with a bacta patch, You looked up at him, your eyes solemn. “This will scar,” You said quietly, your voice tinged with sadness.

Cal forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, it’s just another one for the collection, right? Sure to impress you...”

Despite his playful words, the tone of his voice was heavy with sorrow. You could see the weight of his past experiences and hardships pressing down on him, the scars not just on his skin but deep within his soul.

You paused, your hands still on his chest and met his gaze with a gentle, unwavering look. “Cal,” You said softly, “you could be doing anything at all—something as simple as planting a seed in the cantina’s garden—and you would still impress me.”

The sincerity in your voice penetrated his defenses, and for a moment, the pain and fear melted away. He looked at You, really looked, and saw the depth of your care and admiration for him. It wasn’t the scars that defined him in your eyes, but the strength, courage and kindness that lay beneath them.

A lump formed in Cal’s throat as he struggled to find the right words. “You have no idea how much that means to me…” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. In that moment, the weight of his battles felt lighter, the burden of his scars less daunting.

You smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of fiery hair from his forehead. “I do, Cal. And I’m here with you, scars and all.”

BD-1 let out a soft, comforting beep, hopping down from your shoulder to nestle closer to Cal to affirm your words.

Under the soft light of your shared quarters, as the tender moment between You and Cal lingered, You were overcome with a sudden urge to reassure him of your love and acceptance, scars and all. Gently, You leaned in and pressed a tender kiss around the fresh slash on his chest, feeling the tension in his body begin to melt away. Cal’s breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as he absorbed the warmth of your touch.

Moving upwards, You kissed the long scar on his upper right jaw, your lips lingering on the raised line, and tingling from the roughness of his short beard. You then moved to the small scar across his right eyebrow, kissing it softly. Eyes still closed, Cal’s mind was rampant with emotions he could barely contain. His heart pounded in his chest as the contact sent a shiver down his spine. Each kiss was like a balm, soothing the lingering pain and doubts that haunted him.

Next, You placed a delicate kiss on the scar across his nose, before your fingers gently traced the path of the old wound. Cal’s hands, which has been tightly gripping the edge of the bed, slowly relaxed, moving up to rest on your waist as if seeking the comfort and stability that only You could provide.

Finally, You reached the small scar that ran across his lower lip. You pressed your lips against it tenderly, feeling the slight roughness beneath the softness of his skin. Cal’s eyes opened, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The anguish in his heart was replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.

When You finally pulled away, You gazed into Cal’s emerald eyes and saw tears silently streaming down his cheeks. Your heart clenched at the sight, but before You could voice your concerns, he softly assured You, “They’re tears of happiness.”

A giggle escaped your lips, the sound joyful and filled with relief. “I’m glad,” You whispered, wiping away his tears with your thumb. “Because you mean everything to me, Cal.”

Cal pulled You into a tight embrace, his strong arms holding You close as if You were his anchor in a storm. The weight of his scars felt lighter now, due to a reminder of your love and acceptance. And as You nestled against him, You knew that together, you both could face anything, bound by a love that was stronger than any scar could be.

#calkestisweek2024 #Day 4: Scars #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis #jedi survivor spoilers #star wars jedi survivor #jedi survivor #jedi fallen order #bode akuna #dagan gera #bd 1 #BD-1 #canon typical violence #established relationship #minor angst #hurt/comfort #my writing #🥀 wallflower writes

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kyber-kisses · 1 year

Text

Into Your Arms (Part 3)

Captain Rex x Jedi Reader

Summary: as you slowly begin to heal from your injuries, Rex continues to worry about you.

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, angst, worried!rex

A/N: funny story this is basically part of my Jedi!OCs background but I chose to make it into a reader fic. Anyways enjoy the final part!

Thirty six rotations. Thirty six rotations since Rex held your dying body in his arms. Thirty six rotations since you went unconscious.

Nineteen rotations since they took you out of the bacta tank. Nineteen rotations since he watched the medical team take you out of that awful tube.

Seventeen rotations since he watched in absolute horror as you began seizing, the medics surrounding you and making him fear the worse once again.

Thirty six rotations of not having you around.

The latest scare had been somewhat predictable to the medical team- that sometimes after prolonged exposure to bacta the persons body goes through withdrawal symptoms. Sometimes it was vomiting, other times it could be mental confusion- but it would seem you had gotten the short end of the stick and that was the explanation for the seizure.

But Rex hadn’t known that at the time. All he knew was that one minute he was standing in the med-bay talking to Kix about how your recovery was going and the next alarms were going off and people were yelling and you- you were-

“Hello? Cody to Rex-“ a gloved hand waved across Rexs vision, successfully pulling him from his thoughts as it did.

And with that the veil was lifted and the captain of the 501st found himself back in the almost empty mess hall of the Resolute. Only a few table lights remained on, the rest of the room having been plunged in darkness due to the time of the evening. Most of the ships occupants were on their way to bed by now—

Clearly Rex had been stuck in his own thoughts again.

“Vod, you were doing it again.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Rex rubbed at his temples, the cup of caf in front of him having gone cold ages ago. “How long?”

“Well I was calling your name for a good minute or two.” The clone commander spoke, lowering himself into the seat in front of his brother as he did.

The last few missions had been different to say the least. Without you to help lead troops the 212th had been called in to aid the 501st in the last several missions since your accident.

Rex was greatful for it, really he was. He could use the help, plus- it was nice to have Cody around. In truth he was one of the only things keeping him from going completely mad.

Without you around things felt different. Things ran different. Rex didn’t like different.

Yet here he was.

“Rex, you gotta refocus your energy. It’s doing neither her nor you any good if you keep retreating in on yourself. Focus on the upcoming missions. That’s what she would want you to do.”

In truth Rex knew his brother was right but he said nothing, instead focusing in on his cold cup of caf. He was a good soldier and he had been trying his damnedest to remain that way. He worked on battle plans and he focused during strategy meetings. . . But that didn’t mean you weren’t on his mind constantly. When he wasn’t planning for the next fight and he was alone with his thoughts they always went back to you.

He worried non-stop which resulted in endless visits to the medbay, and a handful of those visits were late in the night when he couldn’t find sleep due to worry and the only thing that calmed him was seeing you.

For those first two weeks you were in the bacta tank he would find himself alone in the medbay in the late hours of the night (which would drag into the earlier hours of the morning) seated on one of the wheeled stools, his knee restless as he bathed in the hazy blue glow of the tank, watching over you, despite the medical droid that still buzzed around. He was afraid if he left you would stop breathing, that something would happen and you would be ripped away to a place Rex could not follow.

And then you were taken out of the tank and transferred to a medical bed and all those nights spent separated by glass were gone. And when no one was around and the medics had all clocked out he held your hand. wether it was for your comfort or his own he didn’t know.

“She’s getting better each day. Kix has been telling me about her improvements.” Cody spoke again, his words earning a tired sigh from the captain.

“Yeah but she’s still unconscious.” Tiling his cup slightly, Rex watched as the cold contents within sloshed around. “It’s all my fault Cody. I should have been paying more attention on the battlefield. If I had she wouldn’t have had to jump in and save me. I’m the reason she almost died-“

“Woah, stop right there. None of this is your fault. It’s not anyone’s except the damn Seppies. You got that?” The slight shift in Codys voice made Rex look up at his brother, only to find his own eyes looking back at him.

Rex opened his mouth to respond but was cut short by the sound of a pair of feet running towards the mess hall, making both clones pick their heads up towards the door as a figure raced into view.

—————————

Death wasn’t like you imagined it. Ever since you were little and still trailing behind the robes of your master you had always thought death would feel like a warm embrace, like the feeling of curling up next to a fire after being out in the cold, or being given a hug after being alone.

But it felt like none of those.

If anything it felt the exact opposite.

It was cold. Not so much to the point where it was unbearable but to the point in which you felt like you had been submerged in a cool stream. The air smelled far too artificial as well and the only noise that could be heard was the rushing of water in your ears and the faint sound of some sort of rhythmic beeping.

And it was dark. So very dark. . . And lonely. If this is what waited everybody in the end then you felt horrible. If this was what it felt like to become one with the force in death then. . . The rest of the Order was going to be in for a rude awakening.

Though despite the cold and the dark there was something that did bring you comfort. It was almost as constant as the other things- though there were times where it was gone for what felt like forever.

You didn’t know what it was but you could feel it in the force when it appeared. It was like a faint glow, like a candle being lit in a darkened room. When it showed up it brought with it a sense of warmth, the type that could only remind you of being wrapped in pure sunlight. Whatever it was it kept you sane and it made you feel protected. . . Even if you were dead.

And then as just as sudden as it had all begun. . . It stopped.

One minute you were adrift in the dark expanse of death and nothingness and then like a slap to the face you were pulled into somewhere else entirely.

Suddenly your body was hurling forward in an upright motion and your lungs felt as if they hadn’t breathed real air in years. Your eyes flew open only to be met with harsh white lights and your ears were pelted with the sounds of beeping monitors and distant voices along with the heavy and steady hum of a ship.

If any words had left your lips they only came out as a sharp wheeze, lungs still grasping for fresh oxygen.

“Woah there, Commander! Calm yourself, everything’s alright.” A pair of reassuring hands went to your shoulders, gently guiding you back onto the bed you currently occupied, you resisted the best you could but your body felt like it weighed three times what it was supposed to.

And the aches? Kriff the aches currently running rampant through your entire body were not ideal either. The pain causing a deep groan to leave your lips as whoever was at your side readjusted your pillow for you.

“Wish I could give something for the pain, Commander, unfortunately for the next few hours I can’t put any more meds in your system.” A gloved hand took your wrist gently, fingers pressing down to check your pulse no doubt. “Other than the aches and pains how are you feeling?”

“Where am I?” Still squinting from the harsh white lighting, you turned your head slightly, pressing your cheek into the soft material of the pillow.

“Level 7 medbay of the Resolute. Gave us quite a scare there Commander.”

Medbay. That made sense. Nowhere else in the ship had lighting as awful as this. Sure enough as your eyes began to adjust you were able to identify where you were.

The medbay was unusually quiet and empty, save for a passing medical droid and two clone medics, one which was hovering over you as he continued to check vitals.

“Kix.”

The medic gave a soft smile. “The one and only commander. I’ve been taking care of you for the last month, no offense but you proved to be quite a handf—“

A sick feeling suddenly twisted in your gut as Kix spoke, and when he saw your eyes widen in confusion all other words on his lips fell silent.

“Month? Kix, what do you mean month? How long have I been out? What even happened to me?”

“Your guts got scrambled that’s what happened.” A second voice entered the conversation and as you looked up towards the doors to the mostly vacant medbay you watched as Anakin strode in, a soft smile on his lips as he did. “It’s good to see you awake my friend.”

“I wish i could say it feels good to be awake.” As you spoke you realized how hoarse your voice was, your throat dry as you let out a cough. Guess that was a side affect of not having said a word in over a month.

As Kix continued with his test, Anakin moved to your side, a glass of water in hand as he did. “Small sips, you hear me?”

“Yes sir.” Giving a mock salute you allowed him to lift the cup to your lips, your head still too heavy to raise it from the pillow.

Though you only caught the tail end of it over the lip of the glass, you watched as Kix and Anakin shared a look before the medic nodded and swiftly moved beyond your sight.

“Is everything alright?”

Lowering the cup, Anakin placed it on the table besides you. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be? Just happy to have you awake. Though full warning; Ahsoka will be showering you with get well cards and gifts when she finds out you’re up.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You mused slightly, sending him a tired smile as you continued to fight the aches in your body.

“Well, we both know she can have way too much energy at times.”

Yeah, he wasn’t wrong there.

As a silence fell over you, you swallowed thickly, mind moving elsewhere. “Have I really been out as long as Kix said?”

“. . . Yeah. You got pretty banged up on Ryloth. Had you in a bacta tank for a couple weeks. There was discussion of transporting you back to Coruscant to recover at the temple but—“

“But what?”

Anakin was silent for a moment. “I spoke against it. I would match rather have you here under the care of medics I actually know and trust.”

In truth that wasn’t the main reason. Anakin knew that if he had sent you back to Coruscant, Rex would have become even more distant that he already was. Having you here at least allowed his captain to have a sense of peace being able to check on your condition.

Opening your mouth to spout some sarcastic comment you were stopped short by the sound of someone running down the hall towards the medbay. They were moving quick by the sound of it. . And at this time of night? Well it made you pick your head up from your pillow in curiosity.

And that little warm glow you had felt all those times before in your unconsciousness? It returned with the approaching footfalls.

A moment later you watched along with Anakin as a very out of breath and wide eyed clone practically slammed into the door frame, his arm going out to brace himself against it as he stumbled to a halt, chest heaving as his eyes found yours.

Never in all your life had you seen the captain of the 501st in such a state. He looked. . . Well he looked as if he was watching a ghost.

And with just one look at him everything came rushing back to you.

Ryloth.

The burning battlefield.

The Sepratist tank.

The explosion.

The twisted chunk of metal in your abdomen.

. . . And Rex. Rex. Your fierce blonde captain who you swore could have hung the stars themselves—

Kriff., know that you were thinking about it it You had said somethings. Some very, very emotional and true things.

You didn’t notice the way Kix and Anakin quietly slid from the room. All you could see was Rex and the worried yet surprised look on his face.

And something inside you broke. You could feel a difference in his force signature. He was worried and he was scared— and between it you could feel a sense of guilt that gnawed at him from within.

He was blaming himself for this.

Your eyes suddenly burned as tears gathered and a choked cry left your throat. Squeezing your eyes shut you let deep sobs rack your chest.

Across the room Rexs face fell and he was rushing across the polished floors in an instant, his gloves discarded from his hands as he placed a palm to your cheek. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Do I need to grab K-“

“I’m sorry-“ you gasped for a breath, eyes opening slightly as tears carved tracks down your face. “I’m sorry-“

“For what?”

“I scared you. I never meant to scare you. I only ever wanted to keep you safe.” You breathed, unable to stop yourself from leaning into Rex’s touch as he thumbed away your tears.

“You’re not supposed to do that. I’m a clone. I’m expendable.” Rex spoke the words plainly.

And At that your face shifted and the anguish and guilt on your face was replaced with confusion. With red eyes and tears stained cheeks you slowly grabbed Rexs wrist, removing his hand from your face.

“Don’t ever say that.”

“Commander-“

Sitting up as much as your body would allow you shoved him slightly. “Don’t ever say that again! You are not! You never have been! And none of your brothers are either!”

Rex was silent, turning his head to avert his gaze to the polished floors of the medbay. He had made you upset. He never wanted to do that.

“I love you, you know that? I know I said it that night on the battlefield but I need you to know it.” You breathed deeply, your voice cracking with emotion as and other wave of tears burned your eyes. At that Rex looked up, deep brown irises filled with surprise. “And you don’t have to say anything because I would never tell you that just to hear you say it back. I just need you to know that you are loved, and by no one more than me.”

To you it seemed in your eyes as if Rex had frozen, but in truth the second you had spoken those words Rex fucking melted. Because here you were, this beautiful, kind and fierce Jedi and you were looking at him in a way no one vet had before.

You had him wrapped around your finger without even realizing it.

Principally he had wanted to be mad at you. To yell at you and tell you to never do something so stupid again, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.

Not when you were here in front of him. Alive. Breathing. Awake.

“I know you are my superior but I’m going to make a command and that is to never scare me in such a way ever again.” Though he tried to mask it, Rex heard his voice crack ever so slightly. “I can’t recall a time I had ever felt so scared in my life. I need you safe. I need you alive.” The last words left his lips in almost a whisper.

And then you watched as a single tear made it’s escape from one of Rexs deep brown eyes and everything in you melted into a puddle. Both your hands slowly and cautiously went to his face, giving him every opportunity to pull back, but the only thing he did was bring his eyes to yours as you thumbed away the tears before slowly pulling him down to rest his forehead against your own. You knew deep down that a part of Rex blamed himself for what had happened to you.

“Forgive me cyar'ika.” You spoke the words in almost a whisper, a message only him.

Thats when Rex did something you never expected. His palms cradled your head gently and and pulled you in to close the remaining gap between you in what was the most gentle and sweet kiss you had ever experienced in your life.

On the other end Rex swore he never felt so at peace in his life. You were safe and alive. . And you loved him. Kriff, he never even entertained that thought in his life that someone could love him, but here you were and he was kissing you and—

“Don’t go far from me.” Your words were like a ghost against his lips as you pulled back just enough to speak.

“I never left. I’ve been here all along.” Rex paused for a moment. “My whole life my duty has been to the Republic. . . But now I know, my duty is also to you.”

Trooper Taglist: @chubbyhedgehog @jordyn2424 @jamesdeerest @isybellaxox @book-of-baba-fett @idoubleswearimawriter @starrylothcat @stevesstevesstuff @amissingdish @hellhound5925 @rexxesgirl @loverofclones @bamfahsoka @kayleev-07 @staycalms-tobereadlist @arctrooper69 @tech-but-trans

#the bad batch #star wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars x reader #the clone wars #chevys writing

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 month

Text

Presence, Presents!

Poe x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Fluff, some implied sexy times to follow

A/N: When I found out Poe's birthday was today, I had to write this. Especially since my birthday is tomorrow!

(Poe divider by @/saradika-graphics)

Poe had been strutting around like the prettiest convor in the base all day, marching with his chin held high like he owned the place. His confidence was infectious, renewing many tired Rebels as they scurried about their duties for the day.

Right now, Poe was headed back too his (and yours) quarters, his trusty astromech, BB-8 by his side, tweeting and beeping at him incessantly.

"I know, I know, buddy! But hey, today's my special day, and I wanna take a nap in the arms of the most gorgeous gal in the galaxy." Poe grinned down at the rotund droid.

BB-8 chattered in response, shaking his little head around as he swiveled in place for a moment before skittering alongside his human friend once again, almost knocking into Poe when he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Wait, what?" Poe asked dumbfoundedly, staring down at BB-8 with wide eyes.

BB-8 made an exasperated tweet and wheeled along, bumping into the door that led to your room. Your little slice of heaven away from the chaos of war and dogfights.

Poe hastily punched in his passkey and was met with silence. You weren't in there. By the looks of it, you'd been gone a while, possibly since just after he left for his own mission.

His shoulders slouched and he dropped his head back with a loud groan. "Aw, man!"

He dragged his feet behind him, his vigor all but depleted at your absence and dropped onto your bunk with a hefty sigh, falling back onto the headrest.

Only for his head to not meet the soft downy cushion of your pillows, but clang off of something hard and stiff shoved beneath the soft lumps. Poe turned onto his side and moved the first pillow, and he was met with a long, medium-sized crate with a note stuck to the top.

It was in your handwriting;

"Hi! They needed an extra escort on this training run for the rookies. Be back soon, happy birthday, baby! :D"

Poe's heart lurched in his chest as he smiled fondly at your hasty scribbles of love, and opened the metal box to see what was inside. And when his eyes met with the shiny barrel of a new blaster, he gasped aduibly.

The thing wasn't cheap. Brand-new, not even cleaned for the first time, yet. No signs of scoring from previous useage... the blaster was surely expensive. You must have saved up for it for months without telling him.

"Aw, baby..." Poe breathed, his eyes softening as his hands brushed the barrel of the blaster fondly, immediately drawing a picture of you in his mind's eye; what you must have looked like hiding this from him, the giddy little wiggle of your hips as you stowed the present for him away for him to find.

He sighed and walked his new blaster over to his locker, placing it gently down as if it were made of porcelain and not the durable metal and steel alloys used to fabricate it, and pulled out a small holo-disk.

Pushing a button, the image that flickered up first was a still of his mother and father. Young, rash and bold; their eyes alight with the fires of freedom, the same that burned within him, now.

"Made it another year, guys." He murmured to the hologram in his palm, each word making his heart seize a little painfully in his chest.

"Wish you could meet my girl. Mom, you woulda loved her. She's sassy, smart, and she hits like a pissed off bantha. Did I tell you that's how we met? Got into a drunken argument at a cantina after a mission. I swear, as soon as she was done knocking my lights loose and my vision came back... Whew! I thought I was looking at one of those Angels the old-timers used to rag on about..." Poe sighed, smiling softly. BB bumped into his leg affectionately, twittering softly in camaraderie.

His nostalgia and bittersweet talkings were snuffed out when there was a knock at the door. He cleared his throat and set the holodisk down in his locker, closing the door before announcing, "C'mon in!"

The door slid open and in walked Finn, beaming from ear to ear, "Hey, man! Heard it was your birthday today! Rey and I just got back with Chewie and we were all talking about celebrating!"

His dark eyes scanned your quarters, his brow furrowing. "Where's your pilot-in-crime?"

"Oh, she's on an escort for a training op right now." Poe said, rolling his wrist casually. "Not surprised, she loves helping the new rookies."

"Ah, okay, got it..." Finn gave him a bit of a shrewd glance. "So... what do you plan on getting her?"

"...Getting her?" Poe echoed dumbly, earning a shriek from BB-8, who rammed into his shins again and again.

"Poe, for the love of--" Finn groaned at him, hissing as if he were in pain. "Please tell me you remembered your girlfriend's birthday is tomorrow?"

The pilot blinked, like a porg in somebody's torchlight, his eyes vacant as the realization dropped on him; almost no thoughts behind his gorgeous amber gaze as he looked at his friend, mouth agape.

He grabbed Finn's shoulders and shook him, "I FORGOT MY GIRLFRIEND'S BIRTHDAY HELP ME WHAT DO I DO?!"

Finn grabbed Poe's hands and eased his iron grip, "Okay, okay, there's a local market, we can run out, grab her a gift and be back... Rey might be able to help us pick it out. Maybe if we're fast, we can get it done before your girl gets back from the training run?"

"YES PLEASE!"

"Okay, c'mon, let's go!" Finn said, leading him out by the hand.

"Man... I can't believe you forgot your girlfriend's birthday was the day after yours..."

He felt horrible. Downright nasty, filthy, horrendous. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the universe--how could he forget your birthday? When it was literally the day after his?

He'd been beating himself up over it since they returned from the market; had he really had his head so far up his own ass that he... ugh.

He shook the water free of his dark curls as he stepped out of the refresher, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist, looking like a depressed, drowned womp-rat.

His fingers hit the button and the door slid open, and he went rigid when his eyes landed on you; dressed in your orange pilot's jumpsuit and your helmet tucked against your side as you held the little brown box with the pink ribbon tied around it--a little touch done by Finn, actually--and you turned to grin widely at him.

"Sorry I was gone! One of the escorts got sick and couldn't fly wingman so I offered myself up for it." You chuckled, setting your bulky helmet down on a rickety old chair by the desk that was in much of the same condition.

You lightly shake the box in your hand when you turn to look at him, "And what's this, eh, flyboy?"

Poe grabbed the towel with one hand to keep it around his waist as you two began to hop around each other; just barely keeping your gift out of his reach.

"Hey!" Poe retorted. "No! That's for tomorrow, you minx!"

You cackled mischievously and finally relented, amused by your boyfriend's almost-naked pleading, handing him your wrapped present and letting him stuff it inside of your locker for safekeeping.

You tilt your head and smile wryly at him. "You forgot didn't you."

He twitched and cringed, "....No? Well, what I mean was--well, you see... it's more like... and, uh..." His shoulders dropped as he looked guiltily at you. "...BB-8 told you, didn't he."

"BB-8 told me." You nod with a grin.

"Ah, hell, that little mech is on my last hair!" Poe stomped, glaring at the locked door to your quarters.

You giggle and kick off your boots with a sigh before unbuckling your vest and dropping it onto the floor; tugging your gloves off with your teeth and then leaning up to give Poe a kiss to his damp cheek.

"It's the thought that counts, hon."

"Yeah, but..." Poe groaned. "You got me that blaster, and... I got you some dumb trinket from the market. And no... I won't tell you what it is, even if I'm not proud of it."

Your eyes softened and you slipped your arms around his midsection, your thumbs tracing the dimples low on his back as you brush your nose to his.

"I don't want some expensive thing, baby." You tell him, "I'm happy if we can just spend time together..."

"I know, but I..."

You silence Poe with a kiss to his slightly chapped lips; "Hush. Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll love it. 'Cause I love you, you kriffin' dork."

Poe wrapped his arms around you and pressed his forehead to yours, finally giving you a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Love you too, you cranky ass nexu."

You tilt your head back with a laugh as Poe waggles his eyebrows, his hand dropping to his towel suggestively.

"Y'know... you can always unwrap another present that I'm always carryin' for you..." He hinted playfully.

"Finn and the others can wait a bit."

#poe dameron #Poe dameron x reader #Poe dameron x you #Star wars #Star wars x you #Star wars x reader'#Poe dameron Star wars

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sebsxphia · 11 months

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Okay, but picture this: avid reader Bob who always has a book on him. He enjoys reading everything: Romances? Loves them. Murder Mystery? 10 bucks he figures out who it is 3 chapters in. Science Fiction? His favorite.

He has always preferred physical copies of books. He has he own personal bookshelf of his favorites and a frequent library goer. Never got into the kindle trend because it can never beat the real deal…

BUT!

The moment he finds out his wife is pregnant with their first child? He’s immediately on Amazon buying a Kindle. Why you ask? One handed reading. But why would Bob want to read one handed? Because you bet your ass that man has a hand on her stomach whenever he can. Reading at the beach: hand on stomach. Reading before bed: hand on stomach. Reading for personal pleasure on the couch: hand on stomach.

The moment his wife realizes this (probably a few months in when she starts to show) she fucking bawls. This man is so excited to be a father while also wanting physical contact with his girl.

My heart just explodes at the thought.

OH MY GOD! MY LOVE THIS IS THE MOST REAL THOUGHT FOR BOB EVER AND IM FALLING TO MY KNEES IN LOVE 🥺😭

no because this is actually so correct! and part of the reason he doesn’t explain to his wife why he’s now got a kindle, is because, why should he? he loves his wife and having that touch with your little one, it was second nature to bob to buy a kindle so he could read like that. he had it planned the moment he settled down with a book for the first time since knowing you were pregnant.

oh god, i love this so much and i love you so much and i love bob so much! thank you so much for this incredibly sweet thought my love! 🥹💌💗

#💌you’ve got mail #seize-the-droid #robert bob floyd

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ryebecca · 2 years

Text

for @seize-the-droid!

want a moodboard?

#seize-the-droid #moodboard request game

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vibratingskull · 7 months

Note

I am so wildly soft for the way you write Thrawn and especially your fics that revolve around his growing family! I particularly loved your most recent piece about his pregnant wife while stranded on the planet with the Chimaera crew. If you’re interested and have the bandwidth, I would love to make a request because I am so in love with this little AU that you’ve created and I’d love your thoughts on this. How would Thrawn react when his wife goes in to labor and they have to give birth on the remote planet? He specifically mentioned not having a lot of access to proper equipment, so I’m so curious if you think he’d be more cool, calm, and collected, or if you think he might panic and worry a bit more at seeing his beloved in so much pain? Especially if it’s a surprise they’re twins 🙈 Thank you so much for sharing all of your wonderful writing with the rest of us Thrawn Lovers 💙

I bow down to you, my dear. It is my pleasure to share my silly stories with you all! Big kiss on your cheek ❤️

Tag: Delivery, death of a character

You deeply breathe through your nose, holding your back.

It is time.

The Force is calling for you, murmuring to you time has come.

You are not stressed in the slightest, you’ve already given birth and the Force is here to support you, everything is gonna be fine.

You know it deep down your bones.

“Sweetheart,” You catch your daughter’s attention, “Could you go find your father for me, please?”

“Why?” She asks, barely raising her head from the wooden figurines Enoch so nicely carved for her.

“Your siblings are coming.” You rise from your seat and sigh.

She looks up at you in shock before jumping on her feet and sprinting through the corridors of the Chimaera.

“Daaaaaaaaad!” You hear her screams from the depths of her lungs.

You can’t help but chuckle, she’s impossible sometimes.

You calmly walk through the corridors towards the med bay, until you cross path with Enoch focused on his datapad.

“Good day milady.”

“Oh, it will be good, Captain.”

“Why?” He finally raises his helmeted head from the screen.

“My waters just broke.” You chuckle

He remains still for a second, taking in the info before immediately putting down his datapad and offering you his arms as support.

“Are you alright?” He asks worriedly.

“I am very well, thank you.” You smile, amused by his distress.

He escorts you to the med bay and orders the droids around. You peacefully lay down the bed, taking deep breaths in as the droids start plugging their monitors and prepare the transfusions. You see Enoch agitating himself with his comlink, getting annoyed by anyone he has on the other side.

“I don’t care if you have orders, find him and tell him his wife is giving birth! Now!” He shouts.

You place your feet in the stirrups and wait for the morphine to kick in.

Everything around you is messy with agitation, but you feel very relaxed and calm. Your babies give you a hard kick in the stomach, making you groan in pain.

“Is everything alright?” Enoch asks.

You can’t imagine what Thrawn would do to him if something went wrong under his care, you understand his stress.

“It’s okay, Enoch. Just a kick.”

He seems completely out of his element right now, you can imagine his distressed face under his helmet right now, making you chuckle. He’s more used to death than birth, the poor man.

“Mom!” Your daughter bursts through the door, out of breath.

“Sweetheart, did you find your father?” You gently ask.

“I am here, Cha’cah.” Thrawn appears behind her. “Is everything alright, my love?” He immediately comes to your side, seizing your hand in his.

“I am well, do not worry.” You smile at him “You want to feel them?” You place his hand on your tummy to feel the kicks.

His shoulders seem to relax instantly.

“They are so energetic.” He sighs.

“Yes. Soon you will meet them.”

He looks at you with love and adoration in his eyes while your daughter just looks worried.

“You are shining, cha’cah.”

“It’s because I am happy. Our family is growing, love. I have a present for you.”

“You giving birth is enough of a present for me.” He purrs.

“You’ll see.” You wink.

He leans in to kiss your forehead and you feel a hard contraction in your core.

“Oof…”

“Enoch, take Thiroy outside.” Thrawn orders.

Enoch takes your daughter's hand and escorts her outside the med bay.

The droids place themself around you, monitoring your vitals while Thrawn leans to circle your shoulders with his arm.

“Alright, cha’cah. You got this.” He supports you.

“Of course I got this, I am a Jedi.” You clap back.

You hear again the Force gently calling for you.

You got this!

“Heartbeat rising.” Note one of the droids. “You are dilated, we can proceed.”

You take the iron bars in your hand, ready for the pain to explode any minute now. The contractions get closer and closer, more and more painful each time but you are ready.

Pain suddenly explodes in your stomach, you feel a mass starting to go down, slowly pushing your entrails out of the way. You cry in pain but push with all your might.

“Here we go!” Says one of the droids.

You’re a jedi. You’re a warrior. You’ve already done this, you can do it again!

You grip the iron bars in your fists as you push. As you stop to take your breath back one of the droids takes out a towel under your legs soaked with blood to dispose of it.

“Heartbeat rising.” The second one reiterates.

You grit your teeth and push hard. Even with the morphine this is so painful. You can’t receive a normal dosage to preserve the Chimaera’s stock of the rare drug. Your lighter dosage can’t keep the pain at bay, just slowly numb your nerves. An epidural is unfortunately impossible in your situation, you’ll have to do without.

Thrawn presses a fresh towel on your forehead to mop the sweat, you weakly smile at him before the contraction starts again. The droid takes out another towel soaked with blood while the other seems to agitate himself.

“There is the head!” it chants.

Thrawn kisses your cheek and heads towards your feet to welcome your baby. His face instantly hardens and he looks concerned.

“Is that normal?” He asks.

“What? Is the baby okay?” You ask between pushes.

“The baby is fine, Cha’cah. Keep pushing, you are doing great, love.” He comforts you.

But you can clearly see his worried expression.

It's harder than you remember.

“We don’t have the proper equipment to assure a safe delivery, my Lord.” The droid answers back. “We will do everything we can.”

You’re in so much pain.

Thrawn gives it a black look before turning to you with hopes in his eyes.

“Their head is out, love. Keep pushing, you are almost there.”

You push with a powerful scream, determined to deliver a healthy baby.

You let yourself fall on the pillow as you hear a baby scream, you look between your legs to see Thrawn holding a blue baby in his hand, looking at them with so much love. The droid gives him a blade to cut the cord and he comes to you to show your little miracle.

“Hey…” You say to your baby, exhausted beyond measure.

“It is a boy.” Thrawn purrs, presenting you with your son.

“Oh Maker…” You just mumble, already feeling love puffing up your heart, “My baby boy…”

But your relief is short lived as the second one is ready to come up, tearing you apart.

“We have a second one.” The droid places itself immediately ready to receive them in its mechanical arms.

“A second…” Thrawns starts before turning to you with sparkling eyes.

“Surprise!” You weakly exclaim through the pain.

“Oh Maker, Cha’cah. Two children?”

“Are you happy?” You groan between contractions.

“I am the happiest man alive!” He presses his forehead with yours, purring deeply.

The second droid comes to take your baby to examine him while the other keeps monitoring you while getting rid of another soaked towel to place another one. Thrawn comes next to it and his expression worsens.

You don’t have time to worry about anything as your baby is determined to come out NOW!.

You push with your last strength, feeling the blood running down your legs.

Maker, this is so painful.

This is a real trial.

“Continue, Cha’cah. I am here with you, nothing can go wrong.”

Hearing your husband’s voice is so reassuring and gives you more strength.

You can’t wait to meet your other baby, you want them in your arms now!

The droid takes out another bloody towel. Your head is very light and you feel really, really tired. You can’t wait for it to be over.

“Do not close your eyes, Cha’cah. Stay with me!” Thrawn orders. Is that worry in his tone?

But you’re so tired, your eyes close themself.

You feel your grips on the bars loosening as you doze off.

“Are they here yet?” You ask with a little voice.

“Not yet, Cha’cah. Please stay with me.”

You sigh, exhausted. Between your half-closed eyelids you see another towel getting thrown off.

That’s a lot of blood, you think, amused.

“I am so… sleepy…” You murmur

Despite the atrocious pain, slumber is taking you.

“No, Cha’cah, stay with me. You hear me? Stay with me! Thiroy is waiting for you! Stay with-”

You don’t hear the end of that sentence, losing consciousness, following the Force’s call.

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

Thrawn stands still, stiff like stone, Thiroy in tears next to him. He gently caresses her head with his large hand, trying to console her.

But how consoling a child who lost their mother?

He leans forward to place a flower in your cold hands, a last present before closing the coffin. Thiroy presses herself against his leg, soaking his pants with her tears, he kneels and hug her, murmuring sweet nothing in her ears to appease her pain. She circles his neck and cries in the crook of his neck.

Everyone remains silent.

Everyone is here for your funerals, all the officers and stormtroopers behind their Grand Admiral, paying homage to the woman who kept their leader grounded in reality, who carried all their hope. You were never popular among them as a Jedi, but all wanted to be present to support their Admiral and his family through these hard times. All know this could have been any of the women pregnant in this room, this exile really propulsed them in their hardest trial, but it had to be you. The one keeping Thrawn sane.

They are all very conscious that something broke within him that day, a light has been extinguished in his eyes to let place to a more cold and calculated personality, with less regards for the lives under his care. The last remnants of his mercy seem to have definitively disappeared forever.

When the coffin is sealed the troops bow respectfully to their Lady, a final mark of respect for the warrior that you were.

Thrawn remains eerily silent, with a very calm and composed expression it looks like he just buried a nobody. None is able to see the storm raging in his inner being. None could appease his solitude. He just lost the most precious being in his life, the one who gave him three children to brighten his existence.

But you are not here anymore.

And he is just an empty shell, the shadow of the Grand man he once was.

Now stands a broken, merciless man.

Is sanity is on the verge of collapsing, the only thing keeping him here is his three children, his three jewels, his three treasures.

He will let nothing harm them.

He failed you, but he won’t fail his children. No matter the cost, no matter the number of lives he has to sacrifice, he will keep them safe!

The ceremony ended, the hall is slowly emptying itself in a death silence. Nobody utters a word, to not make him snap.

Thrawn kisses the forehead of Thiroy and let her to her nanny, despite her cries to stay with him. He silently heads towards the nursery where is two baby boys are waiting.

You didn’t even have time to give them names…

He chose a variation of your own name, to always remember you.

Like he could ever forget his true love.

They are peacefully sleeping, unaware of the distress around them. He takes their little hands in his, squeezing them gently. They coo in response. They are so full of life. He looks at his second born, the one he also almost lost when you died with a smile on your face.

He was this close to lose both his wife and child.

But the med droids managed to save him, it’s the only reason he didn’t destroy them right there and here in a fit of rage and pain.

They couldn’t even save your life, what good are they for?

But they could save the life of someone else like they saved his son. So he didn’t destroy them.

He deeply inhales and kneels before the bassinets, breaking down crying.

He couldn’t let his daughter see him in this state, so he waited.

But now that he is alone, he lets all his bottled up emotions go free.

With his sons for only witnesses.

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

☆Tag list

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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