#unrequited btw

[slotmachines-fearofgod]

Happy May 4th!

Hello again everyone! Been a second, but I wanted to post smthn for Star Wars day. Y'all Rexwalker fans come get y'all food

Anakin Skywalker was -

He was many things. A ball of fire and power. A boy heralded as a prophet by his people. The Chosen One, a being with unimaginable power just barely beginning to reach his potential. 

But there was something else lurking behind those eyes.

Rex hadn’t quite puzzled him out yet, despite their time together. By his side, Rex had fought all manner of evil, risked his life dozens of times, made the unlikeliest of friends, and more. And still, still, through all of that, Rex felt there was something he was missing. 

“I didn’t have a dad,” his general had remarked one day. They’d touched down to refuel and restock at a base on Endor, the thick roots of the planet’s trademark colossal flora entangling below Rex and Anakin’s feet. Rex had been working on his datapad in silence, overseeing the transfers in active time, when Skywalker spoke. 

Rex had looked up, puzzled, “I thought Jedi were taken from their homes as infants?”

His general had smiled then, the look almost cutting if it weren’t for the fondness in his eyes. Rex hated how, even through the thick foliage on this planet, the sun seemed to illuminate the sharp lines of his face. 

“Not me,” Anakin had puffed his chest out a little bit, like he was proud of the fact. “Obi-Wan found me when I was ten.”

Rex made a noise of understanding. Then he processed the first sentence. 

“I’m sorry,” he said congenially. None of the clones really had fathers, so he supposed he just didn’t care as much as a natborn would, cruel as that sounded. 

“No, I didn’t have a father,” Anakin had insisted. 

Rex looked up a second time, his face screwing back up, “What?”

“My mom didn’t see anyone before she got pregnant,” he shrugged and turned back to look out at the base like he didn’t just shatter Rex’s world, “She just woke up pregnant.”

So. Rex could apparently add ‘immaculately conceived’ to the list of things Anakin Skywalker was. 

His general never brought it up again, leaving Rex to wonder. Was he trying to gain Rex’s trust? Was it a slip in judgement? Perhaps Rex had seemed apathetic instead of professional, though he knew his general disapproved of both. 

Rex had a habit of thinking of his general. He didn’t really know why he wanted to understand the man so bad, except maybe to better manage his methods in battle. Rex and his men often found themselves having to adopt at any given second to a new and wild twist in a fight, be it a sudden upward leap of ten, fifteen, even twenty feet, or being flung off a building and having to blindly trust that they would be caught before their skulls met the ground. 

The first time the latter had happened, Rex avoided Anakin and Ahsoka for a week. He learned pretty quickly not to do that, as both the general and commander had a habit of throwing temper tantrums. A teenager raising a teenager. Rex wondered how the Jedi council could be so incompetently stupid. 

Sometimes, though, Anakin had a wisdom about him. A sort of knowing that came with either age or seeing too much too young. Ahsoka was beginning to get that look in her eyes, a fact that kept Rex up at night, but Anakin had always had it. He was brash and childish and so insufferably cocky, but sometimes when he spoke Rex felt drawn in by the gravity of it. The juxtaposition of it made him laugh. 

Once, Rex saw something he wasn’t supposed to. A private moment between Padme and Anakin - husband and wife. He’d been so embarrassed that he’d accidentally slammed the door shut, but the worst part was the way he ran. Literally. He’d sprinted out of the Senate rotunda, getting a comm from Fox later that some Corries were wondering if there was some emergency with the way he flew. He didn’t know why he did that, all he knew was that Anakin would almost certainly unleash that famous temper on him. 

His general came to his door a few days later, his head down and his voice low, and asked if Rex was scared of him. Rex had never reassessed his impression of someone so fast. Anakin had sworn Rex to secrecy and Rex obliged, telling Anakin that he had his loyalty off the battlefield as well as on. Anakin’s face lit up then and Rex’s stomach twisted into knots. 

He teased Cody and Bly a lot. 

They all did in their group channel. It wasn’t the official one, nor the batch one he knew they had without him, but one he and the command batch that had seen him to success used to keep up. Bly was hopeless, always airtight about his general until he had a few drinks in him, and then they were lucky if he only waxed poetry for an hour. Cody was…something. Rex had noticed it first with the way the 212th and 501st worked together. The way his brother would stare and stare and stare and finally one day Rex got curious and followed that stare, tracing it back to Kenobi every single time. Cody even blushed once - the sight so strange and foreign that Rex had to do a double take.

He wondered if that blush for Cody had begun with a strange feeling in his gut. He hoped not. 

At some point, Anakin began to seek him out. Rex didn’t really know how it started, just that he never did paperwork alone anymore and he usually had one, if not two, shadows. Anakin said one day that it was because Rex was raised in the military and he and Ahsoka were still getting used to it. Rex knew that Anakin never asked anyone for help or advice and called it total bullshit, though not to his face. Fives had laughed when he said it, so there must’ve been some truth in it. 

Rex got the feeling that, for as carefully as he watched Anakin, he was being studied right back. For one, Anakin never sparred with him. He pitted Ahsoka against him, sure. Sometimes he would watch the ARCs train, just sitting quietly in the corner with that sharp gaze. Rex always sweated a bit more on those days, more than aware of how Anakin was assessing his leadership. Anakin liked that the men were unruly, but not to the point of dysfunction. Rex always made sure to keep his back straight but his shoulders relaxed as an example.

Rex wasn’t surprised when Anakin came after him after Umbara. Cody had found him first, given his position on the planet, but to this day Rex still didn’t know how Anakin got from Coruscant to Umbaran airspace that fast. Despite his older brother already taking him to the med bay and Kix subsequently releasing him, Anakin insisted on getting him scanned. Rex obliged, as he always does, and ignored Kix’s look when he entered at his general’s side. 

It wasn’t until the scan came back clean that Anakin took a breath and Rex registered the slight wobble to his lower lip. Rex ushered them into his office before anyone could see their general like that. 

Anakin had thanked him, saying he was more sorry than Rex knew for leaving them. He told him he read the casualty reports, that Obi-Wan had made some noise of his own for leaving them with Pong Krell, that he would never leave his side again. 

And then he said something that haunted Rex for many nights to come. 

“I’m glad you killed him.”

There was a snarl in Anakin’s voice, the man himself busy pacing back and forth in Rex’s office like a caged beast. Rex could almost picture his mouth filling with fangs, gnashing and piercing to accompany the raw sound that emerged from his lips. 

“Just make sure it lasts longer next time.”

Rex had stuttered out an affirmative and Anakin had barely paid attention, possessed by some spirit of passion. 

Sometimes Anakin scared him. Not often, mind you. Just sometimes. Like on Zygerria, surrounded by slavers. Rex didn’t understand that either at the time. Anakin had never said a word. He hated Obi-Wan a little bit for taking that from him. Rex would’ve liked to hear the story from Anakin himself. 

There’d been blood on Anakin’s hands when he rescued them. 

Rex hadn’t asked. 

He wondered if that made him a bad person. A good soldier, maybe. But how far should his loyalty go?

Then he looked at the burn marks around the necks of the Togrutans. He thought of those they dropped into pits just to satisfy a sick curiosity. And Rex felt he understood then. There was something roiling in his gut, the opposite of the warm flutter Anakin brought about. He wondered if that was how Anakin felt.

Rex pondered all of this as he shivered and shook. Anakin trudged through the snow a few feet ahead, the flurry already picking up enough to blur his form. Rex wondered if he should tell Anakin to leave him, the ragged tear in his side slowing the both of them down enough that it would become a real problem soon enough. 

He wondered if Anakin would listen. 

“It’s not far!” Anakin yelled back, the sound almost lost to the wind. “I can sense the opening a few hundred feet away.”

Rex nodded blearily, too exhausted for words. They’d fought hard earlier that day, separated from their men when their ship had crashed over the icy landscape. Piloting was a workout, contrary to what most would believe, and Ahsoka had been the one intent on following Anakin into the thickest part of the firefight. Rex had overtaken her by a hair, telling her to fall back, and subsequently been shot down alongside his general. 

They’d grabbed what they could from the ships, Anakin having to help Rex out of his. His face had screwed up in dismay, prompting Rex to look down dizzily. Anakin murmured comforts before Rex swatted him away and told him to go get supplies while they waited for evac. 

Then the snow started coming down. 

They’d quickly deduced tents wouldn’t do much good in this weather. Anakin had piled Rex up with three jackets before shoving a thermal blanket at him, telling him to get suited while he tried to scope out anything nearby. Rex had nodded and Anakin dropped to the ground in a quick meditation. 

That led him here - nearly blinded by the sleet, bleeding sluggishly, and about five minutes away from face planting in the snow.

Anakin looked back again, Rex vaguely registering that it was probably because he didn’t answer verbally. Rex just ducked his head and clutched his side, stubbornly moving forward. 

It didn’t surprise him when his general dropped back, but he did think it was ridiculous. Anakin’s arm wrapped around his ribs, gingerly avoiding where he knew Rex was hurting. Rex huffed, the air coming out frosty white, but allowed it. He wasn’t sure he had much choice either way. 

He didn’t know how long it took them to reach the cave mouth. He wasn’t even sure they could call it a proper cave. He was more focused on the rhythm of his feet, chanting old marching songs in his head to keep himself moving. Anakin was quick to lead him over to the wall of the cave and set him down. 

Rex turned his head to the side tiredly, taking in their surroundings. They were in more of a hollow in the rockface, if anything. Anakin withdrew his saber, using the light to look about. The cove ended about fifty feet back, making Rex sigh in relief. He was surprised no critters were using it as shelter, but supposed he shouldn’t be ungrateful for it. 

Anakin came back to him quickly, pulling him up and leading him to the back of the cave. 

“Sit here,” Anakin said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he forcibly lowered Rex against the back wall. Rex allowed it, as per usual. “I’ll get the fire going and then we’ll look at your side.”

“Sounds good,” Rex huffed, taking off his snow goggles and tossing them to the side. He left his hat on for now, not having much hair to protect against the cold. “We need to get a canvas up to block the snow.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Anakin assured him as he pulled out a firestarter from their emergency packs. Rex grunted in affirmation, watching Anakin assemble everything carefully. His frozen fingers moved toward his own pack, intent on getting out his bedroll. 

“Stop that,” Anakin snapped. 

Rex froze, his hand just barely touching his bag. 

“I - just, I’ll take care of it, okay?” Anakin said forcefully. Rex wondered how he could make such a caring statement sound so biting. “Rest. Please.”

Rex grinned at him, making Anakin scowl, “Please? That’s new.”

Anakin looked back down at the fire, his cheeks still pink from the cold, “I got you into this mess. You don’t need to do anything else, okay?”

Rex huffed. Figures that he’d only take responsibility when actually forced to face the consequences of his actions. Rex couldn’t count the number of times Anakin had pulled a maneuver like this and he’d just worked it out on the fly, following after his general like the loyal soldier he was.

Anakin turned back to him when he was done, the flames burning steadily and casting large shadows in the cave interior. Rex watched, faintly amused, as Anakin sorted through their pitiful medical supplies. 

“Here,” Anakin sighed and reached for Rex’s jacket zipper, yanking it down before Rex could process the motion. Figures he wouldn’t be gentle, even now. “Can you get these off by yourself? I’ll go set up some sort of block for the wind.”

Rex nodded and Anakin hesitated, biting his lower lip. Rex zeroed in on the motion, never having registered how sharp Anakin’s canines were. 

“Go,” Rex said roughly after a moment, his eyes flicking back upward. He didn’t really register Anakin’s quick little inhale at the moment, instead flexing his hands to get some feeling back in them as he began to work the zippers. 

Anakin watched him for just a beat too long. Rex lifted his head, intent on saying something to break the silence, and Anakin jerked into action. Rex shook his head affectionately, amused at his general’s antics. He wondered why, even bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, Rex found himself unable to be truly upset with the man. 

Anakin probably would’ve said something insufferably cocky about how it was part of his charm. 

Rex shook his head, getting with the program and shucking off his layers, albeit a bit slower than normal. He winced as he peeled off the last jacket, the fabric coming away sticky with blood. 

Right. His pilot suit. 

His normal armor was easy to get off, even injured and freezing. He could probably even do it unconscious at this point. But pilot suits had zippers in the back, not the front, and he couldn’t get that without seriously aggravating his side.  

“Anakin,” Rex called, watching with great interest as Anakin immediately snapped his head over to face him. He was midway through hanging up one of their tents as a makeshift tarp. “My pilot suit - I can’t get the zipper.”

He’d intended for Anakin to finish his task, but the man approached him with almost frightening speed.

He let Anakin move him so he wasn’t sitting up against the wall anymore, his back instead facing the fire. Anakin’s hands fumbled at his neck before he paused, one palm resting at Rex’s nape. 

Rex held his breath as Anakin’s fingers traced the outline of his wound. He got it from the crash, some of the metal tearing and slicing into him. It looked ugly from what he could tell, half burned and half bloody but hopefully not in danger of getting too infected. 

The cold of Anakin’s hands felt good against the fiery sting of his torso. Rex couldn’t help but be conscious of every point of contact, both at his neck and side. He felt unspeakably warm despite the harsh bite of the weather.

“General,” Rex said, doing his best not to slur his words, “My suit.”

“Right,” Anakin said quickly, snapping into action, “Sorry.”

Rex hummed as Anakin quickly undid the suit, helping Rex shrug it down to around his waist. Rex made a little noise of pain as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves. Anakin’s face did that weird pinched thing again, Rex just barely catching it as he turned around. 

His injuries felt a lot more dire now that he could see them. Anakin himself surely had a few bumps and bruises, but he was the Chosen One. Rex was just the lucky clone stupid enough to become his captain. 

“Okay,” Anakin breathed out, his eyebrows scrunched up in concern as he pushed up the white tank top Rex had on underneath his suit. Rex tried not to react to the feeling of cold fingers on his skin, his stomach twitching under Anakin’s touch. His general, mercifully, did not mention it. “I’m going to finish with the tarp. Try to staunch the bleeding as best you can. I - I think the best thing we can do is cauterize it.”

Rex snapped his head up, his eyes going wide.

“I know,” Anakin said apologetically before Rex could get a word in, “But it’s too wide to stitch and some skin is already burned. Putting a needle through it could just invite infection or more tearing.”

Rex breathed out, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall behind him.

“Alright,” he swallowed thickly, sweat dripping down the side of his face. He yanked his hat off, leaving it next to his goggles. “Get me something to bite down on while you’re up.”

Anakin nodded with a guilty look before shooting off to get everything done as fast as possible. Rex leaned forward with a groan, grabbing a package of gauze from the pile of supplies Anakin had left out and unripping it with a vengeance. He pressed them to his side firmly, swallowing a whine of pain. 

Anakin was back well before Rex was mentally prepared for this. The wind, however, was far better blocked with the tarp, for which Rex was grateful. 

“Okay,” Anakin said again. Rex wondered if he was nervous. He knelt in front of Rex, who had both legs splayed out as he panted against the back wall. Rex considered himself a terrible person for the imagery that followed that picture. “Lift your arm up.”

Rex obeyed, his eyebrows knitting together in concern when Anakin lifted his lightsaber. 

“Wait, Anakin -”

“It’s okay,” Anakin soothed, resting his hand on Rex’s leg. Rex wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that it did actually calm him. “It may take a little longer, but that fire isn’t hot enough to get it done.”

“Take longer?” Rex asked weakly. 

“It’s a thin blade,” Anakin winced, “Just - you can do this. I know you can. Just stay like that, okay?”

Anakin had never lied to him before. 

Rex held his breath as Anakin unsheathed his saber, the blue glow contrasting the yellow-red light of the fire previously painting their faces. It was a thin blade, now that Rex was looking, and as he peered down at his side to do the math himself he realized Anakin was going to have to hit several different angles so he didn’t chop Rex’s arm off. 

Rex looked up when Anakin lifted a piece of leather. He raised an eyebrow before remembering his earlier request. He grabbed the leather with his free hand, which he would later register was cut from Anakin’s belt, and shoved it in his mouth. He met his general’s eyes with a stubborn courage he didn’t really feel and nodded. 

The pain was blinding. Rex threw his head back, barely feeling where it cracked against the stone and screamed into the makeshift gag, grateful at least that it was brief. He panted through his nose when it ended, barely registering Anakin’s attempts to comfort him. He just shook his head, indicating to get on with it. 

By the time it was fully done, tears streaked down Rex’s face. He spat out the gag, wincing at the teeth marks now embedded in the leather. 

“Fuck,” Rex groaned as Anakin began to tape up his side as best they could. 

“You okay?” Anakin asked, his voice rough. Rex nodded, patting him on the shoulder in thanks. Anakin’s frown deepened at the motion, though for once he didn’t seem to want to voice why. 

“Are you okay?” Rex asked, his throat gravelly and raw. Anakin looked up in surprise, pausing in his movements for a second. His eyes, usually alight with some excitement, be it glee or mischief or anger, seemed far away. 

“Yeah,” he said after a second, looking back down and finishing the patch job. “Our radios won’t reach the venator in this weather.”

Rex tried to peer over his shoulder but found his view of the landscape outside blocked by the tarp. Still, he could easily imagine the scene that they’d left behind, and with the way the wind seemed to be howling he knew it could only get worse. 

“Tomorrow,” Rex told him, fixing his eyes back on Anakin’s face. Anakin looked up at him, doubt in his face. That wasn’t like him at all. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Anakin said softly, now done with Rex’s wounds but still hovering in his space. His eyes flitted about different parts of his face. Rex wondered what he was looking for.

“Let’s eat then,” Rex prompted him. Anakin blinked, like he’d forgotten that was an option. Rex’s mouth ticked upward at the motion.

“Okay,” Anakin breathed out, moving away after just a second too long. Rex couldn’t help but huff.

Rex was handed a ration bar before he could lean forward and grab his own. He nodded to Anakin in thanks before tearing into the thing. Anakin shared the sentiment, devouring his own bar in two bites.

“Thank you,” Rex said once he felt a little more solid and less liable to pass out mid-sentence. “Guess that lightsaber is handy for more than fighting, huh?” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. 

Anakin gave him a weak smile, “Can’t say I’ve ever had to use it like that before.”

“And let’s hope you don’t have to again,” Rex sighed, slumping against the wall. Anakin followed the motion with his eyes, his brow furrowing in concern. 

“We should get some sleep,” Anakin said, moving to his pack and grabbing his bedroll.

“Agreed,” Rex mumbled, his eyelids already half shut. Anakin half-laughed at whatever look was on his face. 

For once, he allowed it as Anakin reached into his pack and got out his bedroll as well. He did raise an eyebrow at the way Anakin arranged them however, zipping together the two sleeping bags like a big cocoon. 

“Body heat,” Anakin answered his questioning stare without looking, instead stripping down out of his own jackets. Rex pitied him, wondering how he wasn’t melting now that the fire was going and the cave had warmed up. “That fire will go out eventually and you need to stay warm.”

Rex stared blankly for a moment. He let himself process the idea of sharing a sleeping bag with Anakin for a couple seconds before nodding, knowing it wouldn’t matter whether he put up a fight or not. He just had to make sure he stayed relatively sane and everything would be fine. 

Anakin insisted Rex get situated before he climbed in. Rex took off the latter half of his pilot suit, wearing his boxers underneath. He did his best not to flush, knowing he’d be in just his tank and boxers, but in the end found himself too tired to truly care. 

Rex laid on his back, careful not to aggravate his side. Anakin made an approving noise above him before shimmying in as gently as he could, having stripped down to a similar level of clothing. Rex closed his eyes, intent on falling asleep just like that. 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said quietly, disturbing the low crackle of the fire and the screech of the wind outside.

“What?” Rex murmured, not opening his eyes. 

“For this,” Anakin’s arm slung across Rex’s stomach, making Rex tense for a moment. Anakin’s hand lay on the covered wound, careful not to press down in the slightest. Rex cracked an eye open, seeing Anakin wide awake and staring at him.

“Don’t be,” Rex muttered, closing his eye again, “I would die for you. You know that.”

Anakin made a strange noise. It was choked, sort of strangled sounding. 

“It’s one thing to say it,” Anakin tried to joke. 

“Did you not believe me?” Rex asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

“I did,” Anakin sighed quietly, keeping his arm laid across Rex’s torso. Rex didn’t make a move to push him away. “It’s just…”

Rex stayed quiet, allowing Anakin to gather his thoughts. It was a couple minutes before he spoke, during which Rex wondered how he’d become someone that Anakin trusted like this. Anakin didn’t act like this in front of anyone Rex had seen. Padme, of course, being the one exception. 

“Once, when I was very young, I had a dream I was a Jedi,” Anakin whispered. Rex opened both eyes at that, turning his head to face him. Anakin’s eyes shone in the low firelight, that same distant look still lingering even now. “I dreamt I went back there, to Tatooine, and I freed all the slaves.”

“That’s a wonderful dream,” Rex rumbled, his hand coming up to lay on Anakin’s arm. Anakin seemed to untense slightly at the motion. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Anakin said quickly. Almost desperately. “But I - I feel like a hypocrite.”

Rex frowned, “Why?”

“Umbara,” Anakin admitted. “Zygerria. Now this. I keep dragging you into things, Rex, and you get hurt. And you don’t have a choice but to do what I say.”

Rex scoffed, making Anakin’s eyes narrow, “It’s war, Anakin. Everyone gets hurt.”

“But not everyone has a choice,” Anakin said unhappily, looking away from Rex in shame. “You don’t have a choice.”

Rex sighed and turned on his side, grateful the uninjured one was the one closest to Anakin. Anakin looked up at him guiltily as he took his arm back, curling it up at his chest. Rex quickly weighed the pros and cons of telling him he looked like a kicked puppy before deciding against it.

“Do you have a choice?” Rex asked softly. Anakin’s face twisted, like he didn’t know how to respond. “You and Padme - “

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Anakin said harshly, taking Rex by surprise. He hesitated after that, reaching his hand back out to take Rex’s. Rex felt a little bit like he was getting whiplash, unable to keep up with the emotional whirlwind that was Anakin Skywalker. Still, he did not take his hand away when Anakin interlaced their fingers.

“I’m okay,” Rex told him, making Anakin sigh softly. Rex resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair, afraid that asking for anything more than this would shatter the moment. He tried not to feel guilty about what Padme would think. “I’m not in danger of bleeding out and the wound was wide, not deep. We’ve got enough supplies to last and that storm won’t linger for more than a day. You know Ahsoka will be looking for us.”

“I know,” Anakin said unhappily. “Obi-Wan always said my antics were going to get someone killed.”

“But I’m not dead,” Rex said stubbornly, unsure where this episode of guilt and self doubt had come from. 

Anakin looked up then, and for the first time since Rex met him, he looked scared. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Anakin said. Rex almost balked at the way he said it, like it was a fact. Like he would drag Rex kicking and screaming from the grave if it came down to it. 

“C’mere,” Rex mumbled, drawing Anakin in closer. He almost couldn’t believe he was doing this, but Anakin shifted and let Rex guide his head down to his chest. Rex put his ear to his sternum, allowing the steady thrum of his heart to soothe the other man. 

“The Jedi aren’t what I thought,” Anakin said abruptly. Rex had a feeling this was going to be another moment in which Anakin just dropped something on him, but didn’t stop his general from speaking.

“I’ve never not called someone my master, did you know?” Anakin asked, and just as he thought, Rex’s heart squeezed with his words. “Can I - tell me that’s not what I am to you.”

“It’s not,” Rex said easily. He knew Anakin could feel the truth of it pressed so close to his heart. 

“Good,” Anakin sighed in relief, pulling away. Rex let him go, withdrawing his own limbs and rolling back to laying on his back. It surprised him then, when Anakin made a disgruntled noise and scooted closer. He once again laid his arm across Rex’s chest, this time curling his hand over his shoulder and flopping over so he was half on top of him. 

Rex wondered if this was still about body heat. 

He didn’t deny Anakin a thing, though. Not when he’d just been so vulnerable with him. Rex got the feeling he’d seen something not many people got to see tonight. A hint at the core of who Anakin Skywalker truly was. 

It surprised him how much fear he found. 

Rex let out a breath, letting himself relax into the touch. It was sort of nice, if he didn’t think about who was on top of him or the fact that said person was married.

“Hey, Rex?” Anakin asked, taking Rex away from his thoughts. 

“Yeah?” he whispered. 

“You’re more than just a good soldier, you know that?”

“Thank you,” Rex said, smiling slightly.

“No, really,” Anakin huffed, the words muffled as they were spoken mostly into Rex’s neck. “I think I would’ve liked to meet you outside of all of this.”

Rex hummed, letting himself consider that. Of course, if there was no war, the clones wouldn’t exist. But he understood what Anakin was getting at. 

“Me too,” he said, feeling the curve of Anakin’s grin against his skin. Goosebumps sprang up in its wake. “Maybe we can go out sometime on shore leave. Get a drink.”

“I’d like that,” Anakin said before Rex could spiral out about how absolutely stupid that sounded. 

“Good night Anakin,” Rex said amusedly, mostly in lieu of saying something else embarrassing.

“Good night Rex,” Anakin sighed into his neck. “Wake me if you need anything.”

Rex laughed before letting himself fade into slumber, the faint traces of amusement ushering him along. He wasn’t sure that they’d ever mention this night again, but he found himself evermore fond of his general regardless. 

He wondered if that made him just as crazy.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Let Me Be Your Sword

Danny’s… not sure how to feel about his new knight.

Like, don’t him wrong, Red Hood—or Jason, as he’d asked Danny to call him—is great at his job. He’s good at fighting, knows how to manage an organization far better than Danny did at first, and is unfailingly loyal. He’s also just generally a pretty nice guy who’s had some similar life/unlife experiences. Their partnership could be really great.

But Jason is in love with him. And Danny… isn’t. So the whole situation feels a bit manipulative.

He’s been quite careful to try to make sure he’s not leading Jason on—in fact, he openly explained his lack of reciprocating feelings to try to make sure there could be no possible misconceptions there—but he’s still worried about the dynamic.

Jason doesn’t care that his feelings aren’t returned.

Okay, well, no, he cares immensely. He wishes with all his heart (though not his voice) that Danny reciprocated his feelings. If anything, he thinks he might be a “little bit” obsessive about his King.

But as things are, he can ‘live’ with it.

It may not be reciprocal, but he can still dedicate himself to his King. Be useful for him. Be valued.

[bloomyblemy]

Ok what if…

what if the demons thought that lbh’s a husband snatcher?

listen ok so I’m pretty sure the demons know that LBH’s keeping a dead body in his room BUT they also know that the war god is fighting for said body right?

now I find it funny if they think that LBH just took LQG’s dead husband and the war god is trying to get him back.

there are opposing sides to this one on LQG’s (‘he literally stole the dead body of his husband!) vs LBH’s (‘ maybe THE WAR GOD killed his husband how could you know?!’)

[warpedpuppeteer]

obsessed with the fact that not only is buck shown holding sunflowers, a lot of buddie interactions were also in front of the framed art of sunflowers, which symbolises loyalty and unconditional love but also unrequited love

something something buck (sunflower) watching from far away, always watching, as eddie (his sun) moves on...

[fuck-kirk]

My friend and I went to see Sonic 3 last night and I was like. “Yknow. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the other two, but I remember Robotnik and that Stone guy being pretty fruity” and she was like “really? I didn’t notice” and I swear every 5 mins in that fucking movie I turned to her and was like

[riuuneon]

it's 3rd of december you know what that means!!!!

government mandated "heather" inspired doodles!!!!!!!!

[scruncheduppaper]

GABRIEL: JUDGE OF HELL

(A practice sketch that accidentally turned into a whole thing)

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 119

The problem with having a human bard follow you around is that bad food can make them sick. Geralt could and would happily eat undercooked or overcooked food. Food was food. Stale food was food. Food. Was. Food. But his bard is more delicate than him. He could get sick, or could even possibly die if he so much as eats something wrong. Thus Geralt begins paying a kind older woman in a town to teach him how to cook. She assures him that with enough practice and recipes from her, he'll be a perfect spouse for his Jaskier. Geralt goes to correct her and say they're just friends, but when she mentions telling him a special recipe because of it, Geralt decides there's no harm in going along with the lie. Jaskier meanwhile is surprised, when he gets to the town where Geralt and him have agreed upon meeting each other that spring, only to run into a woman who very loudly exclaims "Oh! Geralt's husband!" Geralt's what?

[eggofthefish]

bro fell in love with a lesbian (he's doomed)

[harocat]

It's actually really cringe of the anime industry that it's been over eight years since Yuri on Ice, and zero anime that aren't explicitly adapted from a BL manga have managed to be as gay as YOI (let alone outgay YOI). Like you'd think the explosive success would have given companies the motivation to take more chances on original queer stories, but nope. Seven hundred more shitty isekai for you. Over eight years and the industry has learned nothing.

[silverbladexyz]

TW: Mentions of death, injuries, self-loathing. Part 2 to this. Part 3 is here.

"I can't believe you sometimes. What if you had actually been killed because of your recklessness?!"

"But I wasn't! Even if combat isn't my strong suit, I had it all under control; and besides, these wounds are nothing compared to what we've faced before!"

In the normally tranquil environment of the Port Mafia's infirmary, two voices argued back and forth. One laced with worry and anger, the other laced with guilty adamance. A pair of best friends seemed to be the reason behind this noise; with their stubbornness a guise of the true feelings that they harboured for each other.

"Are you seriously kidding me right now? Even if you had it all under control, that doesn't mean you can gamble your life away like it's nothing! How do you think everyone would feel if you died? Do you want to put them through more pain and suffering that could've been prevented if you were more cautious? Do you even care?!"

"..."

Instead of replying, you turned away, suddenly finding the window to be more interesting than whatever was going on right now.

He was right. You didn't think properly about the consequences before you jumped straight in to engage with the enemy, even if you may have had a backup plan.

"... I'm sorry."

It was soft, but Chuuya managed to catch it.

He gave a small sigh, his shoulders dropping as the tension in them wore out. You fiddled with your bandages, not having the courage to look at him in the eyes. Did you even deserve to, afterall? When you worried him sick after he learnt that he almost lost you?

You heard his footsteps approaching you, and mentally prepared for the next thing that he was going to say.

Only for him to somewhat tug you into his arms.

Your eyes widened, and you blinked several times before realising that Chuuya Nakahara, your best friend, was hugging you.

His breath fanned against your collarbone as he buried his face into your shoulder. Strong arms held you close to him, being mindful of the injuries that you sustained on your body- yet the grip they held you in was tight but secure.

"... You idiot. Don't you dare do that again."

It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

You hugged him back, inhaling his rich scent as an unknown heat bloomed in your chest.

"I won't. I promise, Chuuya."

His warmth never left your memories.

Now, you watched as he stood with her, holding her hand. They were too far away for you to make out their words, but whatever she said made Chuuya laugh. A genuine, happy laugh that seemed so much more different from the short chuckles he normally gave you.

He put his arm around her shoulder, and you unconsciously hugged your body as you felt yourself getting colder. It was the third of December- the start of another winter in Yokohama. Marking the six month anniversary of their relationship.

A wry smile made it's way on your face as Chuuya pulled Yasuko in for a kiss. Even though it was a short peck, it was enough to make your heart twist in longing that exemplified whenever you were around him. It was stupid; you knew that your best friend deserved to have someone much better than the monster you were, but it didn't stop you from wishing that you were her. Someone that was a sight for sore eyes, with an aura brighter than the blue skies- someone that could get Chuuya mesmerised.

You even noticed how he became slightly more distant in the friendship. You knew that he wasn't doing it on purpose; he was still the great best friend that he always was, but the little signs were there. Holding your hand so that you wouldn't get lost in the crowd had diminished to just staying close to you. Whenever you called him on a free day to ask if he wanted to hang out with you, he would apologise, saying 'I have a date with Yasuko later'. And the fact that you had the same free days really said something about how much they meant to him.

You walked away, the sight getting too much to handle. Once you were at a safe distance, you crumpled against a wall, biting down on the inside of your mouth to stop the tears from leaking out. A higher-ranking mafioso like you, crying over some crush? Pathetic. An unfitting model for your subordinates who looked up to you as a great unflinching leader.

"Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty." You chuckled bitterly, digging your nails into your palms. You hated it- the soft gaze in Chuuya's eyes whenever Yasuko was mentioned, the way that he gently held her hand, the way he became much more sweet and patient with her that was almost nothing like how he acted around you- you hated it all. You regretted not confessing to him sooner all those years ago.

But you were only the side character in their romance; forever doomed to support them while you suffered in silence.

Was there something or somebody that you could blame for this agony that you were currently in? Destiny, perhaps? Or even Cupid? Those names only made you scoff as you stuffed your hands into your pockets.

There was nobody you could blame except for yourself.

Perhaps it would have been better if you were the one who saved Yasuko, not Chuuya. They would have never spent as much time with each other, and you'd still have a chance at romancing him. None of this would have happened if the roles were reversed at that time.

But who were you kidding? One way or another, they’d end up together by the red string of fate. The most perfect match in all of Yokohama that could put every other couple to shame. And you'd always be the third wheel- the 'best friend' whose sacrifices went unseen just so that they could be happy.

Or maybe it would have been better if Yasuko didn't exist in the first place.

"-Y/N? Y/N?"

A voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you blinked a bit before refocusing onto the girl in front of you.

"Is everything okay? N-not that you have to tell me what's wrong, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll always be here for you."

Yasuko looked at you with a concerned expression, her eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

Those innocent, beautiful eyes of hers that had held Chuuya captive in their gaze.

Ah, right. You were currently in the shopping mall with her, because her boyfriend had asked you to accompany her like some sort of bodyguard. And who were you to refuse, as his best friend who was always there for him? Well, you were grateful that Chuuya trusted you enough to let you near Yasuko. You had seen how protective he was of her.

"... Nothing. I'm alright."

You smiled at her, all traces of your previous emotions now gone. How could you have let your composure slip so easily? This hangout was so that you could 'get closer' with her, not reminiscing about the pathetic past that held you captive in this agonising love.

She frowned a little, but before she could say anything else, you jumped at the opportunity to distract her. Anything that could make you temporarily forget your pain for one moment was what you desperately needed now.

"Oh, looks like they're selling discounted jewellery! Let's take a look! You might find something that you like."

Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her towards the jewellery store despite having no intentions to buy anything. You simply wanted her to be distracted by the precious stones, so meticulously cut and fit into fine metal that it was laughable how they were mostly for show. A valuable trinket only made to be admired and forgotten at the end of the day, even when so much blood had been spilled over them. Blood that would forever stain the hands of a sinner such as you.

"Oh! I remember Chuuya taking me to a similiar store! He bought me a ring; I said that there was no need, but he insisted." Yasuko glanced down at the gold-and-red circlet that lay snugly around her index finger, her gaze becoming shyer as she profoundly remembered the day that her beloved boyfriend had bought it for her.

Your own silver ring that he gifted to you on your 18th birthday paled in comparison to the 5-carat Burmese ruby that sat atop her finger. It was a harsh reminder of who the buyer really preferred from between the two of you. That twisted feeling in your gut resurfaced, but you pushed it back down. You had no more frivolous hopes that he would one day realise you were the one whom he truly belonged with.

"Haha... did he now? I didn't know Chuuya was such a romantic. Did you know that rubies symbolise passionate and undying love?" You smiled as she blushed; the redness on her cheeks rivaling the shade of the precious gemstone that was proof of his commitment to her.

People were right when they said love hurts, but they never mentioned that it was the most painful sensation in the world. All the stab wounds and burns and whatnot that you had experienced from your enemies were nothing compared to a broken heart. A heart that was made to be torn apart to pieces as it weeps for the love it would never get.

Something cold brushed against your wrist, and you looked down to see a bracelet made up of the most exquisite yellow topaz. Yasuko held an identical one in her hand, her expression almost bashful as she faced you.

"I... I wanted to get matching bracelets for the two of us. I know it's only been a few months since we became friends, but being around you has really brightened up my life. I'm glad that we got to meet each other, and I hope that our friendship continues to grow and strengthen!"

She smiled at you; a smile so full of purity and beauty that it would've made many men fall onto her knees in front of her. It was a smile that didn't belong in the dark depths of Yokohama- instead, it belonged to a goddess that was too good for this world. A goddess that clearly deserved to call Nakahara Chuuya hers. Just seeing that smile made you feel infinitely more guilty about the nasty thoughts you had about her each night.

Yasuko's smile faded, worried that she might have overstepped your boundaries due to your silence.

"S-sorry... I should've asked you beforehand if you wanted to buy matching bracelets. Please don't force yourself to buy it just to make me happy-"

You shut her up by slipping it onto your right wrist, the topaz seeming to reflect the sun's golden rays back at you. Shooting her a smile, you grasped Yasuko's hand and put the other bracelet onto her left wrist joint. It fit nicely; just like anything else that she wore.

"May our friendship last until death do us part." It was a pact that you had sworn with Chuuya before. And you always kept your word, never breaking a promise to someone no matter how bizarre or extreme it was.

How unfortunate, really, that death did you apart too early.

@circinuus @riiwrites @ruanais @justcallmesakira @yasu-masashige @oldworldpoolhall @heartsfourdazai @ashthemadwriter-uwu @sariel626 @yuugen-benni @chocsra @iridescentdove

[artsyhamster]

Disease from within, called love

[jumjum-crafts]

No, stop, put your clothes on. I’m about to explain to you why among all the teachers the clock and the computer are the most likely to canonically know about each other’s existence and still reference each other in way more ways you could imagine

[graveyardworks]

cas to dean

[wishchip106]

do you think Erik ever got jealous of Moira because Charles would look at her like this and not him

so close and yet so far

[runraerun]

Billy with hanahaki disease ?🌸?

Pain!:’)

I love it! Here ya go🌸🩸

Fic prompts are: OPEN if anyone else is interested 💌 -> 📬

Tw; blood, slight body horror.

—

It started shortly after Billy moved to this shitty little town in the middle of assfuck nowhere. He chalked it up to the air quality being dogshit compared to California, or maybe he was allergic to that pungent smell of manure that the locals seemed totally nose blind to. The absolute last thing he would have considered was a goddamn plant had started growing inside of him–a love plant.

It was rare. You were only susceptible to it if you had a certain gene that you inherited from your maternal line. Lucky him.

Guess he can’t say his mom left him with nothing when she packed her shit up and skipped town. No, instead of a forwarding address, Billy’s mom left him her shitty, fairy genes. Thanks, Mom. Real swell of you.

“Has there been anyone you’ve had your eye on?” The school nurse asks, voice pitched low, gentle, like she was trying to soothe some kind of volatile beast.

Billy spits another mouthful of blood into the pan he’s holding, the crumpled up flower petals that he’d just finished hacking up look like chunks of his lung rather than a part of a plant. Runs his tongue along his teeth to try and fish anything out that may have gotten left behind in the carnage.

“No.” He says, stubbornly. He doesn’t look up from the pan.

“Well, Hanahaki disease can only take root under very specific circumstances. It feeds off a pheromone our bodies release when we experience a certain emotion; the stress of a love that’s unrequited. It’s the only–”

“I said no, alright?” Billy barks, voice still a little ragged from his coughing fit. Like he’d swallowed with a mouthful of gravel. “Get off my back.”

The nurse sighs, but she doesn’t move to stop him when he puts the pan down beside him and gets to his feet.

“It’ll only get worse if you ignore it, Mr. Hargrove.” She warns.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Billy mutters, but he doesn’t have the energy to put any heat behind his words, so it doesn’t do much to wipe that stupid sympathetic look from her face. He grabs his jean jacket and leaves, shoving the door open with enough force that it slams back against the wall.

Despite his repeated denial, Billy knew who was responsible for this fucking mess.

Steve Harrington.

With his perfect hair and his stupid fucking Bambi eyes, lighting up every goddamn room he strode into with those long legs of his. Jesus… How could Billy ever have stood a chance?

Just thinking of him brought a tickle to the back of Billy’s throat. He suppresses a cough into his fist as he stomps down the hallway, now empty due to everyone else having gone home for the day. Except Billy, who of course couldn’t fucking breathe after gym class today after getting a little too rough with Steve.

It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, but something about the way Steve elbowed Billy away, how he barked at him to give him some breathing space, yelled at Billy to fuck off already—it had Billy’s chest acting up.

He held out for most of the class, fighting against the fucking petals that were pushing their way up through his fucking esophagus by beating at his chest, shouting to clear his airways, but then in the showers, Steve had avoided him completely. Had somehow managed to slip and out of the stalls without Billy noticing, depriving him of their usual naked back and forth banter that Billy had come to look forward to.

It was one thing for Steve to hate him, but it was another thing entirely for Steve to be indifferent toward him. That was way fucking worse.

The sting of rejection quickly turned to a coughing fit, worse than any he had experienced before. Like he’s hacking up a fucking lung. A few of the other boys had asked him, ‘you okay man?’ or, ‘should we get the coach?’, and worst of all, ‘oh shit is that blood?’

Billy was barely able to shove his legs back into his jeans and shoulder one of his classmates out of his way before he stumbled into the nurse’s office.

Fat lot of good that did him…

He’s gotta pick up Max. He can’t afford to hang around and talk about his pathetic, one-sided love with a complete stranger anyway. Billy leaves the school, gets into his car, puts the windows down and cranks the music as loud as he can stand it, and he tries very hard not to think about Steve and this ever growing thing that’s taken root inside of his chest, steadily consuming him from the inside out.

Christ, who knew he was such a fucking romantic…