#while Cody is ready to leave

[acebirdofprey]

YESSSS

I got such a funny idea for another bail/breha/fox fic...it's not part of the series but it's such a fun idea that I feel like I need to write it

[stellamarielu]

worthy

andrew “pope” cody x female reader

summary: you tell andrew you want to start a new life with him— away from the chaos of his family, and he agrees with another future promise on his mind

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, a sprinkle of angst & a dash of fluff but almost entirely smut, pope with a nasty breeding kink, lots of pregnancy talk, reader has hair but no explicit description of it’s appearance, gut wrenching intimacy, fingering, cum play, we’re doing cowgirl AND mating press buckle up baby!

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: hi hello, i am HEAVY on my pope cody shit rn, and i know we’re all longing to give that man a baby, so i thought i'd take one for the team and write this little fic. let’s just imagine this is some kind of alternate universe where pope gets a happy ending, and a family of his own.

Wet curls gather at your fingertips, as Andrew’s head burrows deeper into your chest. Your hand passes through his hair, absentmindedly following the pattern of his curls, as he concentrates on the sequence of your steady breath underneath his cheek. 

“Long night?” A soft whisper leaves your lips as you continue threading your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. 

He doesn’t respond, just subtly nudges further into your touch. 

You let a blanket of silence fall over the room. 

He’d been gone most of the day, out on a job. When he finally got home he walked straight past your frame laying in bed, heading directly for the bathroom, barely acknowledging you before turning on the shower and filling the room with steam. 

You gave him space, letting the water wash the remnants of his remorse down the drain. 

Solitude played a pivotal role in Pope’s ability to process his actions after a particularly long day. You’d learned to give him time alone when he came home from a job, knowing he’d seek out your comfort when he was ready— when he felt worthy of your silent forgiveness. 

He’ll always remember the first time his feet carried him up the stairs of your front porch in search of your nurturing exoneration. Him and his brothers had just pulled off an incredibly intricate heist, one that he should’ve been proud of— relieved by the success of their endeavors. Instead, he strayed from his family’s celebration, finding himself on the doorstep of the girl he’d been seeing for the past few weeks. A girl he had no business keeping in his life. In fact, every moment he spent with you up until that point had been laced with worry and hesitation, scared that he’d taint you with his unruly lifestyle. But you were unlike anyone he’d ever known, never running out of compassion and holding yourself steady with a soft disposition, it drew him to you. The magnetic field of your aura calling to him, as his heavy hand knocked on your door, still shaky from the adrenaline and regret coursing through his veins.  

You didn’t ask any questions, just helped him get cleaned up and pulled him into bed next to you. His body fit perfectly beside yours under the thick fluffy linen of your duvet. All he could think about the entire night was that white comforter, and how it was far too pure to envelop someone like him.

Neither of you said a word, he just laid with his head on your chest while you ran your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. Limbs intertwined in the same way they would be every single night after that. 

Now your house was just as much his. His clothes in your drawers, his toothbrush next to yours by the bathroom sink, his shoes by the front door; it was his home too now- you were his home. 

Pope never knew anything other than the life handed to him by smurf. His perception of the world was dark, hopeless, primitive. He’d been raised that way. Never thinking he could be anything other than a bomb on a detonator just waiting to self-destruct. He was destined for a life full of pain and deception— destined to be Pope Cody. 

But then he became your Andrew. 

Despite everything you learned about him— you stuck around. Never using the nickname assigned to him as a kid, instead exclusively calling him by the name given to him at birth, the name graced upon him when he was still undiluted, clean of the mess waiting ahead of him. 

He’d never loved someone the way he loved you. He never even thought it was possible. But when he came home to you at the end of a long night, with his head on your chest, listening to the smooth beating of your heart as you graced him with your gentle touch, he found redemption. There was vindication in your forgiveness— an unspoken, yet absolute commitment to him.  

“Maybe it’s finally time for us to get out of here.” Your voice was still quiet and your hands continued their movement at Andrew’s scalp as he laid on your chest.

“We could go up north, get a house somewhere…” You begin devising a plan as he relaxes further into your touch, his face hidden from your view, making it impossible to see his reaction to your words. 

“maybe the mountains…” Your voice is mild, matching the soft rhythm of your strokes through his hair.

“Nothing extravagant, just two or three bedrooms. We could start over, on our own.”

The words trail out of your mouth, thoughts spewing as you look down at the man laying on your lap. You knew he thought about it— leaving. The two of you had talked about it before, yet here you were.

“We could be free from all of this. You deserve a normal life Andrew.”

He doesn’t.

That’s all he can think as you continue petting his hair, your touch keeping him in a trance, acting as a mirage of warmth and protection washing over him. Showing him a vision of a man deserving of love. 

“I don’t know about the mountains.” His tone was gruff, words fighting against his throat as they slipped into the air. 

“You don’t do well with the cold.” You couldn’t see his face but you knew there was a slight smirk on his lips by the sound of his voice. 

“When should we go?”

His question was simply spoken— genuine.

For the first time that night, your fingers paused, intertwined in the deep auburn of his curls as you sat in silence.

The lull in your movements was rectified by his own fingers toying with the hem of your panties. It wasn't inherently sexual, but rather tender, as his fingertips traced the skin at your waist, dipping under the material just enough to coax a shallow breath from your chest. 

“Andrew…” You whispered his name, spoken like a quiet warning underneath the gasp at feeling his touch trailing lower inside your underwear. 

“Tomorrow? Next week?” The questions mumble from his lips as he keeps his face smushed into the material of your shirt.

With a hand inside your underwear, his middle finger comes to a resting position on your clit. You instinctively curl your fingers into his scalp at the feeling of him rubbing small, delicate circles in between your thighs.  

“I’m ovulating.” Another warning from your lips as you sigh from the relief of his touch on your body. 

You tracked your cycle religiously. It had become your primary form of birth control, definitely not the most foolproof, but it hadn’t failed you yet. 

He didn’t stop at your warning, just kept pressing soft circles into your clit.

“We should stop.” You tug on his hair a little as the words leave your mouth, trying to confirm the seriousness of the situation.

“Yeah?”

He rustles in his spot until his face is peering up at you, wearing an expression of pride. 

“So, just you and me in that two bedroom house then?” 

His big soft eyes bore into yours with your hands still holding onto his hair, frozen at the implication on his lips. 

The feeling stirring in his chest was foreign. 

A sudden longing for something he’d never had.

A family. A baby. Your baby. His baby. Not given to him, not found, but born. A piece of him brought into the world in the most pure form, built from a place of unconditional love. A promise of what could be. It was so daunting- the idea of it, but he couldn’t shake the anticipation coursing through his veins as he stared intently, watching your eyes widen upon hearing his words. 

“Are you serious?” Your lips curl into a smile at the implication— him wanting to get you pregnant. He’d never once mentioned having kids. Never once came in you with the intent of knocking you up, so the topic catches you off guard.

He takes your wonder-struck grin of infatuation as disbelief— possible amusement that he’d ever think you’d want to have a baby with him.

His eyes lose their hopeful glimmer, gaze suddenly growing rigid and darting away from you at the potential doubt lacing your words. Of course you didn’t want to have a baby with him. He was a mess— his life was a mess. 

“Andrew…” You draw out his name in a soft, sweet breath as you attempt to get him to look at you, but he’s already lost, wandering the maze of remorse and self-doubt paved in his mind. 

His hand slips from your panties, and his body pulls into a seated position against the headboard. He refuses to look at you. The disgust on his face is evident, and you know he’s angry— not at you, not at the situation, but at himself.

Throwing the comforter off your body, you sit up, crawling onto his lap, straddling his hips and sitting back on his thighs. 

“Andrew?” The one word question lingers in the air as you cock your head to the side, your hands wandering up his bare chest, until they’re at his jaw pulling his gaze up to meet yours.

His stare is cautious as he peers up, leaning in to your thumbs rubbing back and forth at his cheeks. 

“Do you want to have a baby?” You stare deeply into his eyes, your tone low and serious.

You search his expression, trying to gauge what’s going through his mind. His eyes hold a picture of bewildered hope before he’s crashing his lips onto yours. Kissing you like he’s starving. His hands shoot to your hips, gripping hard as his lips interlock with yours. 

He’s nodding pathetically with his mouth against yours. Not capable of forming words through the adrenaline fueling his actions, he just kisses you harder, shaking his head to communicate the answer to your question. Yes, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he wanted to give you a baby.

He reaches for the hem of your shirt, pushing the material up until one of his hands splays out over your stomach, caressing the skin of your lower abdomen. His pupils are shot as he pulls back from the kiss to look between your eyes, and his hand resting on your skin. 

“Is that what you want?” His stare is focused on his hand caressing your belly.

You nod.

“Say it.” 

His demand is stern as his stare moves to your face- intense and rough.

“I want you to fuck me full Andrew…” 

A soft groan leaves his lips. 

“Want you to put a baby in me.”

His hands immediately find the waistband of your panties, fighting the urge to rip the thin material straight from your body. 

He yanks at them until you’re hovering over his lap, aiding him in getting them down your legs. He pulls his own underwear off, and you're back on his lap. The only piece of clothing left between you is the shirt on your back, which he immediately peels off your torso.

Both of you are completely bare, and he pulls you back to him with his hands threaded through your hair, kissing you with the same hunger as before. Fueled by the thought of finishing in you, filling you with every last drop, and fucking you until it seeps back out around his cock through every thrust. 

His hand comes down between your bodies, two thick fingers at your entrance, circling, but not daring to push in. He lets out a weak grunt, as he plays in the pool of slick threatening to drip down your legs. Amazed by how wet you are, his mind buzzes at the idea of you already being such a mess from the mere mention of him getting you pregnant. He has half a mind to push his dick into you right then and there— to thrust into you to the hilt and pull your hips down onto him over and over again until he’s cumming once, twice, maybe even three times, until you're full and leaking, practically crying from how good it feels, but he wont, not yet. 

Andrew always makes you cum first. Always ensuring that you're shaking on his fingers, or seeping onto his tongue before he gets his dick wet between your folds. Not because it’s the chivalrous thing to do, but because he’s obsessed with it; watching how your body reacts to him, knowing exactly what angle of his fingers makes you twitch. The exact speed to circle your clit with his tongue to have you clenching your legs around his head. It’s the routine of it, the satisfaction in hearing you cry out his name, and knowing he can do it again and again. Treating your pleasure like a game he’ll always win. 

But tonight, you grip his wrist, stopping him before you can feel the ease of his fingers sinking into you. 

“Not tonight.” You move his hand from between your legs, bringing it up to your mouth and placing a gentle kiss to his palm.

“Just wanna feel you.” You mumble into the palm of his hand before guiding it to rest on your cheek. He’s holding your face carefully as you shift your weight until you feel his length nudging at your entrance. 

Sinking down, your cheek pushes further into his palm, and he holds you steady, his chest heaving as he fills you inch by inch. 

You wait for a second before you move, focusing on how deep he feels as you sit there with him pushed completely into you. 

He always fucked you with reverance. Fucked you like he meant it— long deep strokes in purposeful positions where he could see your face, watching your eyes roll back in your head with pleasure. But, in this moment, he was frozen. His hands holding your face, eyes locked on yours, mind echoing with your voice asking him to give you a baby. He lets you take your time, grinding down onto him with little whimpers escaping your throat as you rock your hips. 

Your hands find his chest, bracing against his body as you move over him, keeping a steady pace. In a complete daze, you angle your hips a little differently to bury his dick even further into you, and he watches your face as it contorts in pleasure. Your hips have a mind of their own as they move in a perfectly calculated rhythm. Your eyes are on him, but glazed over with a distant fog while you mindlessly chase your release, riding him with a desperation he’d never seen before. 

He knows you're close. He can see it in the familiar twitch of your jaw, and the focused furrow of your brows. 

He brings a hand down between your bodies, flat at the base of his cock until your clit is gliding across his knuckles. Using the position of his hand to double your pleasure, he watches as you feverishly rub against him, using him for your own pleasure. 

Your fingertips at his chest mount harder, and your head falls back, strangled moans slipping past your lips as your hips move faster. Snapping back and forth until they’re stuttering. 

Andrew’s hands are still on your face, adjusting your head to make your eyes level with his. Making sure he gets to watch you cum. 

Your mouth falls open, eyes zoned in on his as you cum around his cock. Your pulsing and shuttering, the only thing keeping your body from slumping forward into his are his hands still holding your head steady. 

A current of pleasure washes through you, lingering in the spasms of your thighs, as Andrew watches. Giving you a moment to breathe, he lets his hands move from your face, pushing through your hair and trailing down to your waist. 

With his dick still buried deep into you, he maneuvers your body until your back is on the mattress. He brings your legs up until your knees are practically against your chest, trapped under his weight as he hovers over you. 

“What was that you said earlier?” His soft growl is just inches from your ear as he presses further into you. 

“About fucking you full?”

You don’t answer, you can’t. Not with the way his dick is buried so far into you, grinding deliberately against the plush of your walls, tip threatening to kiss your cervix. 

Something must’ve snapped in him while he watched you finish, because Andrew isn’t normally this vocal in bed. He’ll groan and whine, speak a brief praise, or quick command, but he’s not one for extensive dirty talk. Hearing him speak like this, looking you in the eyes while he pulls out slowly just to plunge back into you, is unlike him. 

He’s completely entranced by your body under his control. Unable to think about anything other than giving you all of him. The need takes over his entire body, and he can’t help but vocalize it.  

“Want me to fill you up?”

His head comes down to rest against yours, foreheads meeting as he bucks his hips into you hard.

“Want me to give you a baby?”

You nod with your head pressed against his, a pitiful, whining mess at his words. 

Then he drives into you. Serving you deep, deliberate strokes as he keeps your legs folded against your body. Thrusting with a melody of raspy, breathless groans at his lips, his hot breath fans over your face as he fucks you. He loses all control, taken over by a primal need to fill you with his release— to see you carrying his child. 

He’s relentless. Letting the way your nails drag down his back, spur on the sinful slapping of skin on skin that fills the room. It’s not fast, but intentional— purposeful. Each thrust a promise of your future as he keeps his eyes on you, Telling you he loves you in the intimacy of his body colliding with yours. 

“Please Andrew.” The two words are whispered from your lips, begging to feel him soak into you, asking for him to give you everything. And It’s all you have to say for him to completely come undone.

He cums with a string of strangled moans, the weight of his body completely crumbling into you, his forehead still resting against yours.

His body is heaving, dick still buried inside of you- nearly quivering. You bring your hands to his hair, playing with his curls as he comes down from his high.

He pulls back after a few seconds, sliding out of you, and sitting up, freeing you from the weight of his torso on yours. You raise up onto your elbows, watching as he kneels between your legs.

He puts a hand on one of your thighs, prying your legs further apart while he watches your pussy, messy and swollen underneath him. 

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look up at you, just stares down between your legs, parted for him. Waiting. Standing by in anticipation to see himself dripping from your core. 

You feel it, thick and warm as it seeps at your opening. 

Before it can pool on the sheets beneath you, Andrew brings his thumb to your entrance, thick and sturdy, and pushing into you. His finger sinks in to the knuckle, a low moan leaving your mouth as you both watch between your legs as he fucks his spend back into you. Stroking a few times before making his way back up your body, hovering over you until you feel his dick, still hard and throbbing, gliding through your folds.

“Andrew…” You feel light headed as you pant out his name, and it almost sounds like a cry. 

“Thought you wanted me to keep going till I knocked you up?” His voice approaches a playful tone as he raises his brows along with his words. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just pushes all the way back into you, thrusting nice and slow, determined to fuck you through the night if that’s what it takes. All he knows, is that this time next month, you’ll be pregnant with his baby.

[pitchsidestories]

See You in Lisbon II Alexia Putellas x Arsenal!Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1606

summary: Reader is Arsenal through and through. Her girlfriend, Alexia, on the other hand, bleeds blaugrana. Both can't wait to see each other at the final in Lisbon.

author's note: Hi everyone, when we started writing this fanfic, we never imagined the game would unfold the way it did. We hope this story brings you some comfort, no matter which team you were supporting in the final. And we'd love to hear your thoughts after you have read it. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

“Any plans for the weekend?”, you asked casually, the phone pressed to your ear. While waiting for an answer from your girlfriend, you traced the rim of your coffee mug standing abandoned on the couch table in your London flat. You bit back a smile, thinking about the weekend when you’d finally get to see her again.

“Yes, winning the Champions League.”, Alexia answered without missing a beat.

You rolled your eyes, still wearing an affectionate smile. That was typical Ale, always thinking about football.

With a smirk, you said: “See you in Lisbon, love.”

“Sure.”, you heard her grin, determined to keep this rivalry up until the final whistle of the Champions League final.

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “Wow. No Sure, amor?”, you asked, feigning a pout.

“No, not before the final.”, Alexia teased.

“Alright.”

“Maybe afterwards.”, your girlfriend added, relenting just a little.

“Can’t wait.”

“Oh, trust me. You won’t have anything to celebrate afterwards.”, she half-joked.

And yes, maybe you felt the same way: excited to see her again which you didn’t do as often anymore since your transfer to Arsenal but also absolutely ready to give it your all and bring that trophy home.

The day of the final promised to be something very special. Sold out stadium, sunny weather and that impeccable atmosphere only a Champions League final could provide. You could feel it as soon as you set foot inside the stadium.

While you focused on getting ready for the game, across the tunnel in the Barcelona dressing room, they were still busy teasing your girlfriend.

“Nervous, Capi?”, Jana asked her as Alexia pulled on her shirt.

She shook her head: “Not at all.”

Esmee grinned at her: “But you’ll see your schatje again.”

“No.”, Alexia replied calmly, shutting the young player up quickly.

Ona giggled from the other side of the room: “Oh wow, that’s brutal.”

“I won’t even talk to her until after the game.”, Alexia added with a laugh.

Meanwhile, Arsenal’s dressing room was equally alive and you were the centre of attention.

“Codi and Vic, stop smirking at me like that.”, you said, trying to sound as serious as possible but eventually, a grin broke through.

Laia blinked at you with exaggerated innocence: “We’re not doing anything.”

Victoria exchanged a quick glance with her before turning to you with raised eyebrows: “Yeah, we’re not the one who’s dating the enemy.”

“The enemy, huh?”, you echoed with a smirk.

Laia nodded eagerly: “Si!”

“Only for a game. It’s not like I’m dating a Chelsea player.”, you said with a nonchalant shrug.

Luckily for you, the Arsenal captain intervened: “Leave her alone, you children.”

“Yes, we’ve no time for that now.”, Renée added, glancing expectantly at the clock, it was almost time.

Quickly, you reassured her: “Don’t worry, we’re ready and fully focused.”

Before your team left the dressing room and stepped into the players’ tunnel, you formed a huddle. Your coach addressed you all one last time before the match: “Then I’ve nothing else to say but to quote the legendary Johan Cruyff: Go out and enjoy.”

“Let’s go and win this.”, you continued, your voice brimming with excitement.

Leah, who was standing beside you, added: “For Kim and us.”

“Can you keep me out of this, please?”, the Arsenal captain said, clearing her throat, uncomfortable with the attention. The midfielder didn’t want the added pressure; she intended to give it her all on the pitch regardless.

“Sorry.”, the defender replied with an apologetic look.

Determined, Kim clapped her hands together, and the huddle slowly broke as each of you headed for the tunnel: “Let’s go.”

The game felt like it lasted an eternity and yet, also like the blink of an eye. But luck was on your side. Stina, who came on late in the match, scored the winning goal.

When the referee blew the final whistle, you leapt into Alessia’s arms. Tears formed in both your eyes as she whispered in disbelief: “We did it.”

Euphoria pulsed through your veins until Laia’s serious voice grounded you: “Y/n? I think someone needs cheering up.”

Your heart sank when you spotted your girlfriend sitting on the grass, looking sad and dejected.

“Ale?”, you called softly.

She looked up and rose to hug you, murmuring into your ear: “Congrats.”

“You all played brilliantly you almost had us at the end.”, you remarked sincerely.

A pained smile crossed Alexia’s lips. “But you were better.” Seeing the concern in your eyes, she quickly added: “I’m alright.”

You hesitated: “See you later, or would you rather be alone?”

“I think I want to be alone.”, she answered. The Barcelona captain wanted you to enjoy the special night ahead with your teammates.

You nodded reluctantly: “Okay.”

“Come on!”, Victoria shouted.

“Go celebrate, amor. Tonight, I’m mad at you but tomorrow I’ll be proud we lost to you,” Alexia declared, giving you a gentle push towards your celebrating teammates.

Your heart was full of love for her, and for your team. You turned to look back at her and responded: “I can live with the hate for tonight, if tomorrow’s only love.”

“Disgusting.”, Beth grimaced playfully. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her.

Unlike you, Alexia pretended not to hear the winger’s teasing remark. In her quiet confidence your girlfriend promised: “I’ll see you tomorrow. “

“Bye.”, you said softly, watching her turn her back on you. Before she disappeared into the group of Barça players, you felt someone tug on your arm.

You turned to see your coach pulling you into the direction of the stands.

“Renée, I can’t run anymore.”, you complaint through laughter. But of course, there was no way you'd miss out on celebrating with the fans.

“That poor girl gave her everything!”, Leah called over, thankfully jumping to your defence.

Renée still didn’t let go: “Yeah but I could see her getting sadder by the second.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, being read so easily by your coach was slightly embarrassing.

“It’s called empathy and this was about my girlfriend!”, you protested.

“Your girlfriend has three of those already, she will survive.”, Renée teased with a grin.

You paused to think about it, then nodded: “Good point, actually.”

“It’s time to celebrate yourself.”, Renée reminded you.

But you never even made it to the stands because Laia wrapped her arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground like it was nothing, She was beaming, absolutely exhilarated by the achievement.

You squirmed in her arms and laughed: “Laia, put me down!”

“No.”, she replied simply.

“Please, it’s time for the medals!”, you called out, pointing over toward the stage.

“Okay, but only because of that.”, Laia finally gave in and set you back down.

“Thank you.”

During the guard of honour, your eyes continued to drift, trying to find Alexias. She still looked crushed, only offering you a weak smile once the medal was around your neck. But you decided to give her the time she needed, tonight was for celebrating with your team.

The celebrations went on until the early morning hours. You only made it to bed when the sun had already started to rise so when it was time to get up, you felt groggy and disoriented.

Still half-asleep, you opened the door of your hotel room as you were already running late for breakfast. You nearly knocked over a bouquet of flowers waiting at your feet. You rubbed your eyes and picked it up without much thought.

“Who got you the flowers?”, Lia asked cheerfully, appearing down the corridor with Mariona on her side.

You blinked down at the bouquet like you were seeing it for the first time.

A quick check of the off-white card attached to the bouquet revealed the sender.

Grinning, you replied: “It’s from her. But you know what the note says?”

“What?”, Lia asked, intrigued.

“Enjoy the moment but next time, we’ll win again.“, you read the note out loud.

The Swiss woman remarked, amused: “That definitely sounds like her.”

“Seems like she’s already ready to go again.”, you realised, relieved.

Leah, who you hadn’t seen coming, gave you a light hug from behind and commented confidently: “Don’t worry. We won’t make it easy for her.”

With a finger pressed to your lips, you signalled for them to be quiet as you received a phone call from your girlfriend.

Mariona laughed quietly: “Ooh, she’s calling.”

You took a few steps away from the banter of your beloved teammates, heading to a quiet corner where you could look out at the sea.

“Morning, amor. Did you receive my surprise?”, Alexia asked gently.

Filled with deep gratitude, you answered: “I did. Gràcies.”

“You’re welcome. And I mean it—next time, we’ll win.”, your girlfriend emphasised.

Smiling, you shook your head. It was good to see her in that spirit again: “Lee already said we won’t make it easy for you.” You paused for a moment, then added lovingly: “Ik hou van jou.”

“I believe you. But we’ll be better then.”, she replied.

There was hopefulness in your voice as you asked: “See you soon?”

“Yes, promise.”

You had a few days off before joining the Dutch national team for the Nations League matches, but you already knew where you’d be heading first. You might play for different clubs, but beneath it all was a love that only grew deeper with time.

Lisbon had been wonderful, but you couldn’t wait to see her again in Barcelona where it all began between the two of you.

Home was no longer a place. It was in your girlfriend’s arms.

image sources: https://www.instagram.com/wchampionsleague/p/DKCwVPmIBVD/, pinterest

[twinterrors29]

what if Owen Lars wasn't lying about Obi-Wan Kenobi having died a long time ago during A New Hope

the 'Old Ben Kenobi' that Luke finds out in the desert is a strange man, with dark skin and a faded scar curled around his left eye

the man protests that he's not Obi-Wan Kenobi, although he is Kenobi, but Artoo seems to recognize him nonetheless and shows them the full message from the Princess

Kenobi, of course, accepts her mission, and explains to Luke that he is holding his father's lightsaber for him and offers to teach him about the ways of the Jedi

he readily agrees to drop Luke back off with the Larses on his insistence though

after the tragedy of the Lars homestead is revealed and they make their way through the drama of hiring Captain Solo, Kenobi gets to work on Luke's Jedi training, which mostly seems to consist of Luke trying to dodge or block random stunners throughout the trip and intense physical training (Luke didn't realize he had some of those muscles in his legs)

eventually, they exit hyperspace in the remains of Alderaan, where the Death Star remains hovering in the now-empty black

they hide from the scanners and sneak off the ship and into the control room, where Kenobi decides to sneak off to disable the tractor beam while Luke waits with the ship (and eventually manages to convince Han and Chewie to help him rescue Leia)

while Kenobi is sneaking around the station, Darth Vader unfortunately notices a familiar presence...one he hasn't felt in some time...he thinks it might be Obi-Wan Kenobi, but it's faint...

Vader, of course, immediately sets out to track Kenobi down, and finding an old man wearing a brown cloak with a deep hood pulled over his face, wielding a familiar lightsaber, makes a few assumptions

Cody Kenobi, widow of the deceased Obi-Wan Kenobi, lets him make those assumptions for long enough to see Luke, Han, Chewbacca, and the rescued Leia sneak back onto the Falcon out of the corner of his eye

then, after a dramatic pause, he burst into motion with a jetpack-assisted round house kick to Vader's face, allowing him to make his escape to the ship

they make their daring escape back to the rebel base on Yavin, and Luke prepares to join the pilots targeting the Death Star's weakness; when he hears a faint but somehow familiar voice urging him to trust in the Force rather than the targeting computer, he decides to trust it, and his choice is immediately supported by Kenobi back at the base

once the celebrations have died down, Luke tracks Kenobi down again, and they get ready to continue his training

once Cody is satisfied with Luke's level of physical fitness and willingness to trust the Force (and after a quiet conversation with Leia about what she wanted to do), he flies himself and Luke out to Dagobah, where his husband told him to bring the boy for Jedi training with Master Yoda

Yoda is grudgingly impressed with Luke's ability to hold handstands, but is more focused on his sidequest to catch Cody off guard and smack him in the shins (he does not succeed)

they leave every so often to go on missions for the Rebellion, frequently teaming up with Leia and Han, but always sneaking back to Dagobah after a short period of socialization

several years into this pattern, Luke has a vision of his friends in danger on Bespin, and insists on going to rescue them despite both Cody and Yoda urging him to stay

Cody, however, grudgingly decides to go back into the field with Luke to help Leia and Chewie (and Han. he guesses.)

Luke runs off to confront Vader, despite being advised not to, and opens their fight with a Force-enhanced round house kick to Vader's face

(Vader is experiencing war-like flashbacks, but manages to rally enough to finish that confrontation)

Cody, meanwhile, got wind that Boba was here and snuck into his ship

the moment Boba reenters the ship and starts preparing for takeoff, Cody emerges and hijacks the ship by way of an ori'vod'ika headlock, regrettably rescuing Luke and Leia's bad influence friend/crush

once Luke is out of surgery on Home-1, he finds Cody and demands answers about his parentage

Cody tells a brief version of what happened with his parents, and with Obi-Wan, and how that led to the present set of conditions

when Luke demands to know why Cody didn't tell him that from the start, Cody asks him why he thinks that Cody didn't teach him the Force-enhanced round house kick during their first training session

Luke admits that he wasn't ready to learn that, or to learn about Vader, but then insists that he needed to know before facing Vader again

Cody reasonably responds that there was no way he, Cody, could have known that Vader was going to be on Bespin, and that if Luke knew and didn't share that intel that was certainly not Cody's fault

and did Cody mention that he also tried to convince Luke not to go in the first place?

Cody ends the conversation by telling Luke that he can do whatever he wants with this new information about his relationship with Vader, but that it's his responsibility as a Jedi to weigh the consequences carefully

Luke sometimes wishes that his mentor wasn't so implacably rational

months later, after the second Death Star is destroyed during the Battle of Endor, Luke watches Cody sit down on a bench some distance from the celebration, only to be joined by a transparent blue figure, who laces their fingers together

the Force ghost meets Luke's eyes and smiles sadly, gesturing for him to return to the celebration

when Luke goes to find Cody in the morning, he finds the man still in the exact same position on that bench, eyes closed and with a soft smile on his face

[bitters-n-sweets]

clementine — andrew "pope" cody x fem!reader You’re looking for a bodyguard and Pope is the perfect person for it

warnings: ANGST, bodyguard!pope, descriptions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of su1c1d4l tendencies, reader’s parents are not good people—her dad is trying to kill her, probably ooc towards the end sorry, mdni, not proofread wc: 3.9k+ masterlist

“$200,000.”

Pope’s eyebrow raises, clearly skeptical. “I’m being paid $200,000 to be security?”

“A personal bodyguard,” Deran clarifies, “But yeah.”

Pope scoffs. “Is this a joke? Who the hell am I protecting, King Charles?”

Deran chuckles. “You’ll see.”

—

Pope doesn’t know why he said yes—well, the biggest incentive is the money, two hundred grand could fix a lot of things. But a job to protect someone? That’s not what he does. He breaks things. Hurts people. Wrecks whatever needs wrecking. Protection feels like the opposite of what he was made for. What makes Deran think he could do this job?

He’s instructed to go to this person’s beach house for further screening. It’s far from his place, about a two hour drive, and he gets there on time as requested; 9AM sharp.

He knocks on the door.

A voice cracks through the intercom: “Full name.”

“Andrew Cody.”

The door opens.

The place is sleek, modern. Ocean view. Infinity pool catching the sun like glass. And there—coming out of the water—is the only person in the house. You walk barefoot across the deck, barely covering your bikini with a robe, wet hair leaving trails across your shoulders.

Pope watches you, sizing you up automatically. At first, he thinks you must be someone’s girlfriend. But when your eyes meet his, level and assessing, he knows he’s wrong.

“So, you’re Deran’s brother.”

He nods. “You’re Clementine?”

You smile, a little wry. “Yeah, Deran calls me that. He tattooed the orange on my hip.” You show him the citrus tattoo poking out of your bikini and offer him to call your real name instead.

“And you?” you ask. “Do you prefer Andrew or Pope?”

“Either is fine.” He shrugs.

“Andrew it is.”

“Deran wasn’t lying when he said you’re intimidating.” You add, “And handsome.”

Andrew looks around your house, only sparing you a glance at your comment. It’s almost too perfect. Marble floors. Strategic decor. Cameras tucked into every corner, wide coverage, no blind spots. You’re expecting enemies, he thinks. Not company.

You hand him a glass of orange juice.

“So, Andrew. You clear on the directive, or do you have questions?”

He ignores the orange juice, putting it down on the counter. “How do you know Deran?”

“Surfing. Beers. Getting drunk.”

He looks at you. That’s not the full truth. You know it, and you know he knows it. But you just sip your juice and let the silence stretch.

“What do you need a bodyguard for?”

You smile politely, curtly. “I’m not telling you until you sign a contract with me. Sorry. Security reasons.”

Fair. Andrew thinks.

“All I can say is,” You add, “People want me dead. And I need someone to watch my six while I get rid of them.”

His eyes narrow. “Why me?”

“My last security team got compromised. I’m handpicking this one myself. Deran’s one of the few people I trust—and he said you’re the best.” You tilt your head, watching him closely. “So are you?”

Andrew takes a breath. “I only know how to hurt people.”

“Good.” You smirk. “I need you to hurt the people who try to hurt me.”

He stares at you — not quite sure what to make of you yet. Andrew is intrigued by your electric personality, your quips, your wit. But he’s also a little wary. He doesn’t know you yet. Doesn’t entirely know what you’re capable of. Heck, he’s not even sure what exactly is it you do, but the fact that you’re throwing around two-hundred grand for one bodyguard? It’s enough to make him stay.

You pull open a drawer, take out a contract and a pen, and slide them across the table.

“Read the terms and sign when you’re ready,” you say. “Payment comes after the job’s done.”

Andrew picks it up, flips through. Buried in the fine print is a clause: if he dies on the job, he waives liability. His lips tighten. Of course.

He looks up at you, a smirk on your face, watching him like you’ve already figured out what choice he’ll make.

He signs the papers and passes them back to you.

“Good to be working with you, Andrew.” You scan the contract, making sure he signed correctly. “You’ll be staying here with me throughout the contract, so you can go back and grab whatever you need. I expect to see you back here tonight.”

Andrew puts down the pen on your coffee table. And just before turning around to leave, he asks, “What makes you think you can trust me?”

You eye him from your kitchen counter, drinking the orange juice he didn’t dare touch while keeping eye contact.

“Maybe I can’t. But I know where Deran lives.”

Andrew isn’t sure if that’s a threat.

Before he has to go back to your place, Andrew tries to learn everything he can about you, but nothing turns up. No criminal record. No gossip. No digital breadcrumbs. Even Deran shrugs when he asks. Andrew doesn’t like working blind, but it’s too late to back out now.

When he pulls into your driveway that night, he’s surprised to see he doesn’t need to knock. The house scans his face and unlocks automatically.

Inside, he hears your voice before he sees you—you're on the phone in the living room.

“I’m trying to make a life for myself. You know this.” You say to the person on the other line.

Andrew spots a few empty beer bottles on the table.

Your voice rises — sharper, angrier. “Why are you still defending him?! Our whole lives, he—” You stop mid-sentence. You’ve caught sight of him in the reflection on the glass wall.

“You can tell him he can saw my head off my body himself.” You hang up and glance back at Andrew, a duffel bag in hand.

“Good, you’re back.” You say. “Ready for briefing?” Your tone is cool, like nothing happened.

Andrew says nothing at first. Just drops his duffel bag by the couch.

You toss him a beer, which he catches one-handed. He cracks it open but doesn’t drink yet.

Then you start talking. Handing him files about people he should look out for. It’s a lot more complicated than he thought.

You tell him everything. Not everything-everything — he knows you’re not reckless — but more than he expected.

Andrew learns a lot about your life then. You moved away from home at 15. Built a business from the ground up. Acquired, merged, dismantled. And now? You own multiple companies that directly compete with your father's and suddenly he wants you dead.

Suddenly Andrew feels a lot closer to you. He can understand where your rage is coming from. That kind of fury? That kind of betrayal? It changes people.

“So he’s put a bounty on your head.” Andrew raises a brow. “What if I just kill you now and take the bounty for myself?”

You don’t flinch. You just smirk, lips wrapping around the edge of your beer bottle. “I’d like to see you try.”

Andrew’s lip twitches, he almost smiled. “How much is the bounty anyway?”

“$200,000.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. He wants to say you’re crazy. You both take a drink and leave the night to the silence. Maybe now you understand each other a little better.

You let Andrew get used to his role of being your bodyguard for the first few days, watching how he moves, how he scans a room, how naturally he seems to step in front of you without thinking. You know he can fight, he’s got a very sharp eye, and he intimidates people, but what you need to know is whether he can actually keep you safe when shit hits the fan. So you take him out to bars, shadowy alleys that are just too suspicious—try to engage him in fights he’s not ready for.

So far? He’s passing with flying colors.

He’s just finished taking care of a few guys that jumped you from an alley. No wasted moves. Controlled rage. Efficient. By the time he’s finished, the bodies are barely breathing, slumped in a pile behind the dumpster. He’s panting when he walks back to you, knuckles bloodied, shirt rumpled.

“How’d I do this time?” He asks, catching his breath.

You smile at him. “Amazing as usual.”

You walk with him to the car, and just as he’s catching his breath, you toss in, “Though… I didn’t set these guys up.”

Andrew looks at you, eyes a little wide. “…Your dad really doesn’t play around.”

You laugh at his comment. Because you’ve been playing this game for a long time. “Oh, just wait till you meet him.”

He sighs, getting into the car. “Not looking forward to it.”

You’ve been staring at him the entire way back to your house. And Andrew knows—of course he does, you’re not trying to hide it, he just doesn’t know what to make of it. Not when you’re staring at him like that.

“Quit looking at me like—”

“Like what?” You ask, daring him to finish his sentence.

He swallows, glancing at you. “…You know like what.”

You grin, tearing your gaze away to the road instead and crossing your legs.

Back at the house, you grab the first aid kit before he can even kick off his boots.

“This-This is really not necessary.” Andrew stammers, watching you yank out the alcohol and band-aids.

“Andrew, please.”

Your voice is soft, patient as you start cleaning the scrapes on his knuckles.

He winces as the alcohol hits, and you immediately mumble, “Sorry.”

“Besides, it’s in our contract,” you add.

His eyes narrow, watching as you’re now cleaning his cut lip. “Is it?”

You suppress a smile and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not going to just leave you if you get hurt, Andrew.” You clarify. “I hired you to protect me, yes, but I have a responsibility to you, too.”

He feels his heart rate pick up. Now he’s staring at you. Not with suspicion. Not with wariness. Just a little surprised because he doesn’t expect to feel anything, and you’re so close.

You’re leaning in, carefully dabbing at the cut on his lip. He keeps flinching back slightly, and the closer you get, the more flustered he becomes.

You bite back a smile. He’s trying so hard to keep it together.

And then, because you can’t help yourself—you kiss his nose.

Andrew freezes.

That pause is all you need to stick the bandage on his forehead before he can shy away again.

“There,” you murmur, pleased with yourself.

Andrew doesn’t breathe until you get up to put the first aid kit where it belongs.

And even then, his eyes stay on you, like maybe he’s starting to realize this job isn’t going to go the way he thought.

You can see him turning slightly pink, and you think that’s enough torture for today. Poor guy’s been beat up twice—once by those guys in the alley, and again by your relentless teasing. Not like you could hold it any longer anyway. If it were up to you, you’d be smooching booties in every room of this house.

“You should get some sleep,” you say, this time more serious. “I know you don’t sleep much, but try anyway.”

You hesitate, then add, “In two days, things are going to get a little crazy.”

You pause. “A lot crazy.”

Andrew stands up slowly. He stops just before bumping into you. He looks down and holds your gaze.

“I can handle crazy.”

You spend the next day preparing for the event. The charity gala hosted by some privileged, overpowered organization is only a charity in name. It’s not about goodwill or giving back. It’s about control. Image. Legacy. And that’s exactly why it’s the perfect place to make your move.

Your father has no idea what’s coming.

You’ve planned every detail. The data, the footage, the timing—down to the moment the room will go quiet. All you need to do now is make sure everyone’s watching. And that you survive long enough to finish the job.

Because you know your father. He always has something up his sleeve.

That night, you can’t sleep. You’ve gone over everything with Andrew. Twice. Maybe three times. He knows the plan. He’s ready. But your mind won’t settle. Your body’s tired but your thoughts won’t let you rest. You finally get out of bed and head outside, needing air.

You sit by the pool, the water just up to your knees and the light reflecting on your face.

You remember the day you left your family like yesterday. A bunch of screams and tears from your mother, while your father basically dared you to run, chasing you with his gun. Your jaw tightens at the memory.

“Can’t sleep?” Andrew’s voice breaks the silence.

You glance over. He sits beside you, feet in the water. He’s not wearing a shirt — just a pair of loose black sweats, skin still damp from a shower.

You blink. “Jesus Christ. Are you trying to seduce me?”

Andrew looks down at himself, then at you, deadpan. “Is it working?”

That earns a soft laugh. The corner of your mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

But your smile quickly falters and he knows you probably have a lot on your mind. “Your plan’s good. Solid. You’ve covered everything.”

“I know.” You sigh. “I just... can’t shake the feeling something’s going to go wrong. That maybe it has to. I don’t know, my entire life is just fucked up.”

He nods. “Here’s to having a not-so-normal family.”

You almost forget he’s a Cody. “At least you all still live together.”

Andrew leans back on his arms. “That’s not necessarily something good. I… I needed a break from them. From Smurf. Deran and Craig noticed. I started to have these… thoughts. Tendencies.”

You let him go on.

“So… thank you. For this job.”

You smile, a little half-hearted, reminded that Andrew’s just doing another job. And soon enough you’ll be on your own. Again.

Day of the gala.

You arrive fashionably—deliberately late. It’s part of the plan. Every piece of tonight is curated to pull the rug from under your father’s feet, and nothing makes a man like him unravel faster than losing control of a room he thinks he owns.

Andrew stands beside you, his hand on your lower back, reassuring you that he’s got you.

Taking a deep breath, you push the main doors open. Your heels click against the marble as you step into the ballroom, head held high. You’re dressed in a statement of war; blood-red silk, backless, a slit cut dangerously high. You look like the kind of woman headlines get written about. The kind people remember. And it’s exactly what you need.

Your father is already speaking on stage when you walk in. It’s some grand monologue—about legacy, loyalty, impact, all those shiny, hollow words he thinks will cover up the blood and money dripping off his empire.

He sees you just as he’s launching into his favorite anecdote. And to his credit, he only stumbles for half a second. But that half-second is everything. The hush that moves through the room as people turn to look at you, and then at him, and then back at you again.

“Don’t stop now,” you call to him. Your voice is smooth, almost bored. “You were doing such a great job bullshitting. Father.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd like a breeze through dry grass.

Your father lets out a tight, practiced laugh into the mic, trying to salvage the moment. “Darling, I thought we agreed this wasn’t your scene anymore.”

“Oh father, please, it’s not my intention to take the light away from you.” You say sarcastically, “In fact, I have a gift.”

Across the ballroom, the projector screen glitches, and your first video begins to play. Grainy security footage. The audio is low but clear.

“Kill him now.”

“But boss, he’s the son of—”

“I don’t care. He took my money. He’s gonna pay for it with his life.”

And then a gunshot. Someone gasps. A few people shift uncomfortably. The video cuts out abruptly.

Then the second clip begins.

Your father again, younger but unmistakable. He pulls a gun and shoots a man point-blank in the head. The body drops like a sack of bricks. He steps over it without flinching.

“Clean it up,” he tells a trembling assistant off-screen. “Burn it all.”

You watch your father from the corner of your eye. He hasn’t moved. Not yet. But his jaw is tense, and you know what that means. He’s calculating. Waiting to see what else you have. You smile. Because you’ve saved the best for last.

The third video starts.

Bedroom footage. Intimate. A little too intimate. Your father again. Naked, whiskey in hand, with a woman who’s not your mother. The woman’s face is obscured, but her unique diamond necklace says more than enough.

Across the room, a woman yanks her necklace off. You roll your eyes when she glares at you.

“I’ve always hated your husband,” your father says in the video, voice slurred. “He’s my best friend, but I’ll kill him if I have to.”

The video cuts out.

You step closer to him, voice lower, almost gentle now. “You always said power was about what you could hide. Guess your grip’s slipping.”

With his entire face now fully colored with rage, your father lunges at you.

You barely register the movement before you hear Andrew’s voice cut through the crowd. “Gun!”

Then everything happens fast. Andrew grabs you hard, pulling you off your feet just as the podium explodes beside your head from a fired shot. Splinters scatter. Screams echo through the ballroom. Somewhere, a chandelier sways violently overhead.

Andrew throws you behind the cover of a table and covers your body with his own. You can feel his heart pounding against your back but his movements are precise, instinctive. You know better than to get in his way now.

Your father’s men are already storming the stage, closing in fast.

“Stay here.” He instructs.

Andrew moves like a storm. He tackles the first guy mid-charge, driving his shoulder into the man’s gut, slamming him into the staircase rail with a crack. Another comes at him with a knife—Andrew ducks the swing, grabs his wrist, twists, and slams his elbow down until the blade clatters to the floor. Then he drives his boot into the guy’s ribs.

You peek from behind the table just in time to see Andrew disarm a man with a gun and pistol-whip him unconscious. Blood spatters across the marble.

Your father steps out from behind the podium, aiming again—and this time, Andrew is faster. He raises his gun, and your father freezes.

Andrew walks toward him, slow and steady. Blood drips from a cut above his eye. His chest rises and falls with each breath, but his hands are steady as ever.

Your father looks up from the barrel pointed at his face and spits on the ground between them. “This is how you’re gonna kill me? You don’t even have the guts to do it yourself?” He’s talking to you.

You emerge from behind the table. “I’m not like you.”

That’s when you hear sirens from outside and the police come rushing in.

“Drop your weapon!” someone yells.

Andrew pauses. Slowly lowers the gun. Lets it fall to the floor.

They arrest your father on the spot, reading out charges you practically wrote yourself—embezzlement, conspiracy, murder. The list goes on and on.

You walk over to Andrew, checking for any serious injuries and finally rest your head on his shoulder. It’s finally over.

“Thank you.” You say to him and he just holds you close.

You step outside after giving a statement to the police, Andrew following closely behind. There’s a few police cars around, red, blue, and white flashing everywhere. And you see an ambulance nearby, and your mother sitting down. She looks small. Fragile. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles pale. Her eyes are glassy, locked on some fixed point in the distance that you can’t see.

You approach her.

“Mom.” Your voice barely rises above a whisper. “It’s over. You’re free. We both are.”

She doesn’t look at you.

“We can still go,” you try again. “We can start over. Just you and me.”

She rises slowly to her feet, her mouth trembling. You think she’s going to cry. Maybe fall into your arms. You think—hope—she’ll say your name like she used to when you were little. When you skinned your knees or had nightmares or couldn’t sleep without her hand in yours.

But instead, she raises a hand and slaps you across the face. It doesn’t hurt, but it leaves something ringing deep in your chest.

“How could you do this?” She whispers. “You’re… you’re not my child.”

You don’t even flinch. Your gaze falls to the ground as she walks away from you. Something breaks in you. And for the first time, you don’t know how to fix it.

Andrew is beside you before you even realize. He doesn’t touch you, but his presence is enough to snap you back to reality. Because you can’t be seen crying right now.

You look at him, tears threatening to fall. “Let’s go, Andrew.”

And without another word, you walk to the car together. A silent ride home.

It doesn’t feel like victory.

In your head, getting back from the gala after executing your entire plan meant celebrations—champagne, dancing, a bottle smashed for fun on the marble floor. Something loud. Something indulgent. But this… this feels more like losing.

Maybe there was never an outcome where you won. Maybe you were too blinded by your own ambition to see that from the start.

The front door clicks shut behind you.

The house is dark, save for the soft glow from the kitchen under-cabinet lights. You don’t bother flipping on anything else. Andrew follows you inside but says nothing. The silence is thick, almost suffocating, but neither of you breaks it.

You disappear into your room and return with the duffel bag, putting it on the table. The zipper’s slightly open, and a few stacks of cash peek out. The blood money. The price of surviving tonight.

You pour yourself a glass of whiskey, downing it one go.

You don’t look at him when you say it. “…You can go now.”

It comes out flatter than you mean for it to. Not cold, just… empty. Tired. Like there’s nothing left to give.

Andrew doesn’t move. He watches you quietly. Watches the way your shoulders have lost their proud angle. The way your hands stay curled into fists. The way your eyes shine, too bright, too wet, but the tears haven’t fallen yet.

He shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your jaw clenches. “You’ve done your job,” you murmur. “You protected me. You survived. You got paid.”

“I didn’t stay for the money.”

You finally lift your eyes, catching his reflection in the window. You’re not sure what you’re looking for. Maybe doubt. Maybe a lie you can call out. But it’s not there.

Andrew steps closer, slow, careful.

He doesn’t say anything else.

Your throat tightens. “I hired you to protect me. You don’t have to do all this.”

“I know.” His voice softens. “But I want to.”

His hands find your waist, turning you so you can hide in his chest and cry.

“So let me,” he whispers. “Okay?”

Your lips tremble and you finally cry into his chest, tears ruining his shirt, your hands clutching him. You let him hold you while your whole world sinks to the floor. Let yourself cry until your body’s shaking and you feel like passing out from sadness, and he holds you nevertheless.

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Baby Blurb #7

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Animal Kingdom Masterlist Pope x Hawk Playlist Well Enough Alone Baby AU Masterlist

General Synopsis: Hawk has a late night craving and gets more than she bargained for. Word Count: 2.5k Content Warning: childbirth, but nothing in detail. AN: please don't make me go back to the main WEA fic. I'm begging. please comment & reblog :)

It was a rare night when Lena stayed with Baz instead of at Hawk and Pope’s place, and tonight was one of those rare nights. Hawk hit the eight and a half month mark and she felt every bit of those eight and a half months. Her back ached, her boobs were sore every waking second, she was always hot, and the near constant heartburn was driving her crazy. 

Hawk’s sleep schedule had been thrown out of whack by the seventh month, and she was now up at odd hours of the night —occupying herself with the plants in the garage or going for late night swims in the pool if Pope was up with her. Most of the time, though, she’d just sit up in bed while Pope slept beside her, murmuring to baby Thalia about anything and everything that happened throughout the day, or plans they had coming up, or anything Pope did in the nursery to get things ready for her arrival. Pope would wake up to full on one sided conversations Hawk would be having with the baby, taking their kicks and punches as confirmations to her questions. He’d smile into his pillow as he listened, not wanting to disturb Hawk’s ritual that became a more frequent occurrence the later in her pregnancy she got.

Hawk had taken her maternity leave from the shop at the eighth month mark at Pope’s request. If she had it her way, she’d still be working up until she went into labor, but Pope insisted she needed to take it easy because she could. Not everyone was afforded that luxury, he reminded her, so she should take it while she could.   

Pope had been on edge the further along Hawk got, especially now that she was feeling the full brunt of the pregnancy. Her due date was inching closer and closer and he was chomping at the bit for this to be over, for Hawk to be safe and for the baby to finally be here. He was with her everywhere she went, giving her just enough space to not feel suffocated, but he hovered all the same. He had the occasional nightmares of something happening to her, or the baby, and the days that followed those were unrelenting to him. He just wanted them safe and healthy, and he’d do everything in his power to make that happen, even if it meant keeping Hawk at arm’s length.  

Tonight though, Hawk’s cravings were out in full force and she was taking no prisoners. Pope, god love him, only put up a small resistance at leaving the house at three in the morning with Hawk in tow because she would not give up. They took Hawk’s small SUV when they needed to go anywhere together nowadays because she had a hard time climbing in and out of Pope’s massive truck by the time she was five months along. This all led them to where they were now -driving along the coastline to one of the local 24 hour donut shops at two in the morning. 

Pope’s right hand held Hawk’s, his thumb rubbing over the top of her hand affectionately as he drove with the stereo playing in the background. 

“I can’t believe how close we are.” Hawk breathed out, letting the salty sea air hit her face from the open passenger window. 

“Only a few more weeks.” Pope glanced at her, grinning softly. 

“Believe it or not, I’m gonna miss doing all of this. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done to get us ready for this. I love you so much, Andy. I really mean that.”

“I know you do.” He kissed her hand, “and I’d do it a dozen more times if you’d let me.”

“Settle down,” Hawk laughed, head tilted back. “I’ll settle for maybe one more, but you’re out of luck for the other eleven.”

“You mean that?”

“That you’re not getting your baker’s dozen of kids? Yeah, I mean that.” Hawk scoffed.

“No, that you’d have another.”

“Possibly.” She shrugged, “I actually liked being pregnant more than I thought I would. Granted, there are things about it that drive me nuts, but I wouldn’t trade this experience with you for the world.” Her other hand rested on her bump, rubbing circles to feel the baby move. Hawk grunted when Thalia gave a particularly strong kick. “She wants a cruller…and a chocolate frosted with sprinkles, by the way.” 

“Oh, she’s got a sweet tooth tonight?” 

“She sure does.” 

“You sure you want to get down?” Pope asked her, but Hawk was already undoing her seatbelt and propping the door open. “I can run in and out.”

“Yeah, I’m getting antsy.” She said as she heaved herself out of the vehicle. Pope was quick to come around to her side and held out his arm for her to take. Instead, she pulled him down to kiss her and she pat his ass playfully. He grinned down at Hawk with a brow raised at her boldness, but walked ahead of her to open the door like a gentleman. 

When Pope noticed Hawk wasn’t right behind him and he couldn’t hear her feet over the gravel, he turned around to see her looking down at where she was standing halfway between him and the car.

“You alright?”

“I uh, I think my water just broke?” Hawk looked up at him with wide eyes. Pope blinked at her, brows furrowing as each individual word processed through his brain until they were comprehended after Hawk repeated herself. “My water broke, Andy.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes held shock. Pope, to his credit, all but levitated over to her, trying to herd her back to the SUV. 

“What the hell are you doing?” She asked as she waddled back to the passenger side. 

“We gotta go.” Hawk gently pushed him back towards the donut shop, but he stood as solid as he ever did. 

“No, no -I need those donuts!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not going to be able to eat anything for god knows how long, Andy! Do not deprive me of this one last thing before I pop our kid out.” Pope wanted to argue, to toss Hawk into the car and fly to the hospital “-and I don’t want to get the seat wet.” Hawk mumbled as an afterthought as she shimmied one of her legs to kick off the remnants that were dripping down it uncomfortably. 

Pope leveled her with a look, then against his better judgement he turned and went inside the shop, shaking his head the whole way. He waited in line, but kept an eye on her as she waddled back and forth next to the car, shaking her legs every few steps. She sent him two thumbs up with a big smile when she caught him watching. He could only nervously half-smiled back, but inside he was panicking. 

Pope’s heart pounded in his chest as he placed the order, his mind going on cruise control as he realized that the baby was coming, and she was coming early. Two weeks early wasn’t a big deal, Pope knew this, but it still worried him that something could possibly be wrong. 

Pope jogged outside once he had the bag and picked up his speed when he saw Hawk slightly bent against the door, clutching the metal and trying to steady her breathing with her forehead pressed against her arm. 

“Why are you still outside?” He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and opened the passenger door so he could set it on her seat before helping her in, placing the paper bag on her lap. 

“I didn’t want to get the seat wet. We’ve already discussed this.” Hawk peeked in the paper bag and smiled. Pope hustled to the driver’s side and they were flying out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. 

“Are you timing the contractions?” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel. 

“Considering that was my first one? No,” She said as she stuffed half of the cruller into her mouth. 

“You’re killing me, Hawk.” Pope groaned. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel and the last thing Hawk needed was for Pope to have a coronary while he was driving. 

“Hey,” Hawk said firmly to ground Pope, her hand reaching over to squeeze his bouncing thigh, “Look at me.” Pope glanced over to her, then back to the road. “I am fine. The baby is fine. We’re going to be okay. Just get us to the hospital safely, alright? That’s all you need to worry about right now.” Pope nodded, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. “We’re going to be parents, Andy.” That seemed to settle him for a split second.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, full irony present, nervously. 

“I’m fucking terrified,” Hawk answered honestly, “but I’m also so excited to meet Thalia.” 

“We’re gonna meet Thalia.” Pope repeated, his eyes fluttering as nerves wracked his entire body. Hawk smiled at him tenderly and squeezed his leg when another contraction hit. 

To Pope’s credit, he tried not to glare at everyone who came in and out of the room once they were settled in, especially when Hawk winced as they checked how dilated she was. And then they kept checking. He was becoming more agitated than she was, but he kept it to himself for her sake. 

By the time they made it to the hospital, Hawk was four centimeters. He knew they needed to make it to ten, so he did everything he learned through his hours upon hours of research through articles, YouTube videos, and message boards. 

Hawk held onto his arm as he walked the halls with her, he let her squeeze any part of his she could get her hands on when a contraction hit, and he soothed her, letting her know he was staying right there with her through all of it. He had the nurses being in a yoga ball so she could open her hips and alleviate some of the pressure in her spine.  

Pope wasn’t a stranger to birth and just how brutal it was. He helped deliver Deran on the dirty bathroom floor of a gas station when he was a troubled teen, and that had been traumatic for everyone involved. Now, he just had to support Hawk in any way he could as she pushed with the best team of doctors and nurses, in the nicest hospital they could afford. He wanted this experience to be as beautiful as it could be for Hawk -and Thalia, when she finally made her appearance. 

It was seven hours of grueling labor, of screaming, crying, and pushing, but she did it. 

Pope didn’t care how many strangers were in the room —the second he heard his daughter’s thunderous wails echo in the room, he felt like he was floating off the floor in absolute euphoria. Hawk was crying tears of happy relief when a nurse placed a teeny, tiny bundle on her chest, her shaking arms holding the now quiet infant to her after she had been checked out and cleaned up. The team was finishing up all of the afterbirth tasks and the adrenaline was still pumping through her. Pope was right up at her side, looking down at Hawk with pride bursting through his chest. 

“Oh, my girl.” Hawk cooed quietly, her voice shaking as her fingertips brushed against the baby’s cheek. The infant’s just looked up at Hawk. “Welcome to the world, my Thalia.” Pope kissed Hawk’s sweaty forehead, lingering long enough to say how proud of her he was and how much he loved her. How grateful he was. His eyes shined with unbroken tears and he held Hawk’s shoulders as they both looked down at the now sleeping infant. 

The room had quieted down as everyone left to give the new parents some time alone as a family. 

“We did it.” Hawk whispered, looking up at Pope. He leaned down to kiss her lips, his hand bracing her arm so Thalia didn’t jostle. “I can’t believe she’s here.”

“She’s beautiful.” Pope whispered against the crown of Hawk’s head. “You don’t understand how much this means to me. What all of this has meant to me.”

“You deserve happiness, Andy. We both do.” He nodded, allowing himself to feel the happiness he was never afforded as he continued watching Thalia’s every little movement. “You want to hold her?” Hawk asked with a knowing grin. His palms were itching, she could tell, but he’d never rush her first time holding the baby she carried and delivered selflessly. 

“Really?” Hawk chuckled, wincing as it started a round of cramping from her waist down. 

“Yes, really. She’s your daughter, Andy, and you’ve waited long enough to meet her.” 

Pope pumped some sanitizer into his palm from the bedside table. The act itself was second nature as the man had a germ phobia (and kept a bottle of Purell in nearly every room of the house), and he made damn sure that his daughter would be well protected from things that could be prevented. 

Hawk patted the side of the bed near her hip and he gently sat down, his body angled towards her. When Pope felt the minuscule weight of his tiny daughter in his hands, the tears that had built finally fell. A small sob broke through his trembling lips as he bent down to give her tiny forehead a kiss.

Hawk’s hand soothed his leg, rubbing circles as she saw the immediate bond he lassoed around Thalia take place. Hawk was exhausted, but the smile never left her. Thalia opened her eyes when Pope pulled back and his jaw fell ever so slightly. He didn’t try to hide any of the emotions he usually kept tight under lock and key, leaving himself wide open and vulnerable to the only two people he’d allow himself to be around. 

“Hi, Thalia.” Pope got choked up, “I’m your dad and I already love you so much.” He said softly, words shaking. Hawk had never seen the smile he gave Thalia before. It lit him up completely from the inside out, and it was enough to send Hawk into another round of happy tears. Pope brought Thalia up to his chest and just held her there for a moment with his eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing. She cooed and gurgled for a moment before settling against the heat he radiated, and Pope felt it send a shock wave through his system. 

How could Baz, or Smurf, or any of them see what he saw or physically feel what he felt while looking down at the infant they made and not want to give their child everything they had in them? How could Baz look at Lena and not feel grateful that this piece of him and Cath was on this planet? Pope didn’t understand it before becoming a father, but now? He couldn’t comprehend it. 

Pope would move mountains, he’d split rivers, he’d kill or be killed for Thalia. He only had her for minutes and yet he’d burn the world and everyone in it for her. 

“This doesn’t feel real.” Pope whispered, not wanting to disturb Thalia as she fell asleep. Hawk had given him the greatest gift anyone could have given him in his life, and he had no way to outwardly express to her how precious she and their daughter were to him in that very moment. 

she's heeeeeeeeeere

[words-4u]

mine again - p.c

pairing: andrew 'pope' cody x f!reader

wc: 1.1k

a/n: random fic because i'm currently watching animal kingdom because of my new fav dilf shawn hatosy and i'm obviously very into pope

it was a calm saturday night for you. you had the day off from the surf shop you own. with the heavy rainfall, you couldn’t enjoy your beachfront view as much but the cool breeze coming in from your back door made up for it. you planned on having a nice night in with yourself, you lit some candles and brought out your favourite wine. you’d thought about ordering takeout but opted for a warm home cooked meal for a change.

you’d only stepped out to buy some ingredients for dinner but when you returned you felt uneasy. some of your things were off kilter. your armchair moved slightly to the left, your coffee books opened. your tv, which you always turn off when you leave your house, was on.

with your heart beating a million beats per second, you drop your grocery bags on the kitchen table sneaking across to the cereal cabinet where you kept a gun always loaded.

some sounds were coming from down the hall were your bedroom was. this motherfucker is ransacking you.

taking the gun off safety, you take tiny steps down the hall. you slowly approach the open door to your washroom and cash a glimpse of a dark figure sitting on your toilet. you whip your gun in his direction. 

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you say through gritted teeth. your finger ready on the trigger. you were scared shitless but you didn’t want this person to know that.

the man lifts his head and your eyes widen.

“pope? what the fuck?” you exhale. you take deep breaths to regain composure slowly lowering your gun.

“you really shouldn’t leave that back door open,” he says casually going back to wrapping gauze on his arm. you place your gun down on the counter.

that’s when you really take him in. he’s all cuts and bruises. a gash runs down his forehead into his eyebrow. his knuckles all bloody.

“jesus christ, what happened now?” you keep your distance leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. pope pauses and looks at you like you should know the answer. “right… we don’t talk about jobs. we never have.”

“what are you doing here, andrew?” you exasperate. you haven’t laid eyes on him in months.

“oh, my real name. now i know i’m in trouble.” he joked trying to lighten the mood. he winced tucking in the piece of gauze he just cut.

“we broke up months ago. a mutual decision. remember that?” you wash your hands, drying them on a nearby towel and bend down to grab your other first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink. “you don’t get to just show up here any more.”

a whisper of a small smile appears on pope’s face because while you’re chastising him you don’t even realize that you jumped right into helping him like you have a hundred times before.

you make your way around him and sit on the edge of the bathtub. “turn,” you command an pope listens, rotating his body to face you. now you’re eye-to-eye with him.

“did I interrupt a hot date or something?” you could hear the smirk in voice as you looked through the kit for rubbing alcohol and your mini-stitches kit.

“you don’t get to know that information,” you say, turning to face him again. “now, stay still.”

you soaked a cotton ball, pressing it lightly on the cut above his eye. he winces in pain, grabbing your thighs. you didn’t think much of it, continuing to clean his cut. “why did you come here?”

“is it a crime to want to see you?” he says, eyes never leaving your face. you know this trick and you refuse to fall for it so you avoid making direct eye contact. 

“it is when you break into private property,” you shoot back, dropping the bloody cotton ball and picking up another. “so what was it this time? another bank? church? random houses?”

“had to fuck some guys up that were messing with j. trust me, they look worse,” he states. not looking proud of it.

“completely reckless,” you mutter.

“completely loyal,” he interjects. “it’s one of the things you love about me,” you were abut to correct him. loved, not love. but sitting here, with his hands on your legs, cleaning his wounds like old time, you felt it all come rushing back. 

you cleared your throat. “so how is lena?” one of the things hardest things to let go of when you and pope broke up was his adorable niece.

“she’s good. you should she see the pictures she draws. kid’s super talented,” you smile at that. she always drew you the prettiest portraits.

“i miss her,” you admit.

“and she misses you. come by and see her when you want. i’m sure baz won’t mind.”

“it’ll confuse her,” you say and pope makes a face. “me being around all the time when we… you know.”

you pick up the needle and thread it through the cut above pope’s eye. you feel his eyes on you the entire time. his hands start to move your legs and this time you shudder.

“did we make a mistake?” his voice tight and hoarse.

“i don’t know,” you reply honestly. “do you?” you pull on the thread, patching him up slowly. 

“yes,” pope states with a slow nod. “and also… i’ve tried to be with other women and it doesn’t work.”

you finish stitching his eye. your thumb slowly caresses it. his fingers dig deep into your thighs. you look down at his hands and then up at him. “what doesn’t work, andrew?”

“i-are you really gonna make me say it?” he asks.

you lift your eyebrows as if to say ‘go ahead’.

pope leans in and his breath fans your face. “I physically cannot be turned an by any other woman.”

you scoff and tilt your head at the man. “you can’t get it up and that's somehow my problem?”

“not the problem, y/n. you’re the solution," he says now grabbing on on to your hips.

"pope," you breath. your body growing hotter with each moment. he guides your willing body on to his lap.

"you know it. i know i just need to hear you say it," he says kissing up your neck.

"sa-say what?" you squirm. his hands making quick work of the buttons on your jean shorts.

"say your mine again," he leans back looking at you. eyes trailing down your face, fixated on your lips. your strong resolution crumbles and your eyes soften.

placing your arms on his shoulders, one hand combs through his reddish brown hair. "i'm yours, pope. always have been."

his lips inches away from yours, pope breathes into your mouth, "and don't you ever forget that,"

he catches your mouth in a searing kiss, one full of passion and haste. the kiss wild and messy like your relationship with the unpredictable man and for the first time in 3 months you feel at peace again.

[miss-kuki-nz]

Confrontation

John Cena x assistant reader (Platonic), Cody Rhodes x reader? (TBD)

Author's Note: This is just a random idea that came to my mind and It wouldn't leave me until I typed it out. I hope you enjoy 🥰.

Warning(s)-Angst, little bit of dirty talk, not proofread.

Tag list: @there-goes-thefighter @mytribalnightmare @madhatterbri @eringobragh420

Cody stood in the middle of the ring during Friday Night Smackdown with an angry look on his face and the feeling of rage surging through his body as he continued to go off at John Cena and his assistant, Y/N who were both standing at the bottom of the ramp with smug looks on their faces.

"Clearly you want some..........COME AND GET SOME", Cody yelled into the mic as his eyes locked with John's in an intense stare down. After a while John smirked at Cody and did his signature “you can't see me” hand movement before he started yelling out insults at the 3rd generation superstar. "KEEP RUNNING YOUR MOUTH AND I WILL GLADLY BEAT YOUR ASS JUST LIKE I DID LAST WEEK...........YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHING YET!”.

Y/N along with the commentators and the many fans who were in attendance tonight could feel the tension building between the American nightmare and the franchise player and it all stemmed from the events that occurred at the Elimination Chamber last week where John with the help of The Rock turned bad by attacking Cody from behind with his Universal championship title. A move that no one ever saw coming except of course Y/N and The Rock who were in on it. No longer was John Cena the good guy, he was now the bad guy and there was nothing that anyone could do to stop him from getting to the top once again.

Y/N knew that she couldn't allow for John to get into a brawl with Cody tonight, even though she wanted to see him beat the living shit out of the current champion who had been getting under her skin lately with how he talked to her and annoyed her just in general by existing. She knew that this wasn't the time and place for the two men to go at it again and that it would have to wait until their showdown at Wrestlemania.

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts when she felt John leaving her side and getting ready to run into the ring and attack Cody but she quickly sprung into action by stepping in front of him and pushing on his chest with her hands to push him back "Not here, not now", she snapped at him as she looked into his eyes with urgency. John looked down at her with an annoyed look and tried to gently push her to the side but Y/N held her ground and didn't budge, remaining still in her place and now looking at John with a determined look "Wait till Wrestlemania and then you can beat his ass", she exclaimed before continuing on "For now let me handle this, okay", she assured him and all he could do was roll his eyes but also nod because once again she was right, even though he'd never tell her that "Okay fine fine", he sighed and put his hands up in surrender and took a step back from her. Y/N smiled in satisfaction and winked at him before grabbing the microphone from his hand and taking it in hers. She turned back around to face the ring and held the mic up to her mouth while looking at Cody who had his back turned to them "Hey blondie, you better enjoy your last few weeks as the champ because come Wrestlemania 41, John Cena will walk out of that match as your NEW UNDISPUTED WWE UNIVERSAL CHAMPION!", she screamed out at the top of her lungs, her words echoing strongly throughout the arena, receiving a round of cheers and boos from the fans

Cody's body stiffened and his hands immediately clenched into balls of fists at the words that came out of Y/N's mouth and he slowly turned back around to face her with anger flashing through his eyes. At this moment, he forgot about John and completely focused on her. "Hey Y/N?, you can run your mouth all you want but every single person sitting inside this arena", he paused as he gestured to the entire WWE universe for emphasis "Knows that you secretly want me", he blurted out into the microphone, with a small smirk now forming on his face as he noticed Y/N getting defensive by shaking her head frantically and yelling out incoherent sentences which were drowned out by the fans cheering loudly.

"You and I both know that you want the American Nightmare", he grinned as he gripped the mic in his hand, his eyes never leaving hers "And if I remembered correctly, weren't you the one who asked me to come and fu-". Cody was quickly cut off by Y/N yelling into her mic "Shut up Rhodes", she snapped at him with an annoyed look on her face. Cody chuckled and licked his lips while his eyes shamelessly raked over her body "Why don't you bring yourself into this ring and shut me up", he teased and winked at her with a cocky smile

To be continued……

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[livfastdieyoung69]

OH OH YK WHAT I NEED BAD? KO SIBLING X CODY OOOOO I NEED IT I NEEDDDD IT

NEW BEGINNINGS

(Cody Rhodes x Non-described!Owens!Reader, can be read as adopted or not)

Anger issues and complaining runned in the Owen’s family. It was what your family did, most of you on the side, but your brother, he did it for his literal career. Like seriously, Kevin just complained for a living- he got on a microphone and yelled. As jealous as you were, it wasn’t your gimmick unfortunately. The two of you grew up side by side, falling in love with wrestling together, and eventually even growing in the business together. Though you had pretty similar styles, Kevin loved being in the WWE and everything he stood for there, and you loved being in TNA, and all of the accomplishments you’ve made in the company.

Though you were on separate paths, whenever they happened to cross, you’d sit down and have lunch, or dinner, or whatever else you could manage and do what Owens’ did best- complain together.

“How’s working with all of the Bloodline guys, still?” You ask after taking a gulp from your soda. Before you can even finish, he’s rolling his eyes and groaning with a mouthful of cheeseburger.

“Still fucking terrible. There’s more of them! Like an endless amount, they just keep popping up out of nowhere, and the more that come, the crazier they fucking get,” His exasperated sound makes you laugh. “I’m serious!”

You shake your head while he takes another massive bite out of his burger.

“Who’d you just work with? Uh, what’s his name? That woo woo woo guy? Zak Ryder!” You nod, taking a bite of your own food after muttering the ‘You Know It’ part of the catchphrase.

“He’s Matt Cardona now- that’s his actual name. He’s a nice guy…a lot, but nice. Like so much, really, all smiles and enthusiasm all the time. When Chelsea won the title, he brought a replica the next day and everyone thought it was the real one.”

This was how it usually went- catch up through each others feuds and how annoying everyone else was, and eventually the chatter would die down and you’d eat for a little, and then someone would pick up an actual conversation. The only problem here though, was there was one more feud of Kevins you were trying to avoid, but it was kind of hard. He was a massive deal in the company and a massive part of Kevins life right now.

“I know what you’re doing.” Kevin states causally, leaning back in his chair after starting on his fries.

“What?” You try to laugh it off, but you don’t look up from your own plate.

“Cody. You don’t wanna ask me about him.”

“….I just figured you’d want to keep your mind off it with the match at the Royal Rumble coming up.” You try, but he shakes his head. That was still in a couple weeks.

“Dude. I know you’re a fan- you literally still have the shirt from when he did the Dashing thing years ago. You liked Stardust, you know who else liked Stardust? No one.“

“Okay, I get it, you don’t have to publicly shame me about it. You can complain about everyone else, that’s my exception.” The two of you are quick to go back to silence while you try to finish your meal, and he chugs down another soda. The man ate ridiculously fast, nothing could stop him.

“You know,” He broke the quiet again. “You would really like WWE. Paul keeps bugging me about talking to you.”

“So you’ve told me,” You shrug. “I don’t know. TNA’s my home at this point, I can’t imagine leaving.” A laugh rips through you at a sudden thought and he nods his head for you to continue. “Maybe, maybe if you got Cody to ask-“ His eyes close with a sigh, and he immediately starts shaking his head, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Don’t push it.”

That had been about a week ago. You’d both gone back to your regularly scheduled program, him on Fridays and you on Thursdays. His feud with Cody continued, with a whole bunch of shit happening over there, and you moved on to work with other TNA superstars. After another long Thursday night you’re ready to conk out from the very fun, but tiring, on top of the night of wrestling, celebration with Joe Hendry for his new, recent title win (you’d already given your condolences to Nic).

As soon as your head hits the pillow, your phone rings. And you know it’s Kevin because you had set his theme song for his ringtone.

“What’s wrong?” You answer on the first ring. It’s late, and this is unusual, the first thing your mind goes to is that something happened.

“Did you see the news?”

“What fucking news Kevin, you’re freaking me out-“

“WWE and TNA signed a contract, anyone can go anywhere,” He rushes out, your name following it. “Anyone can go anywhere.”

You aren’t even sure what to say, and the phone line goes quiet while you stammer before Kevin interrupts.

“I gave Paul your number- he wants you in the Rumble.”

And now, here you were. This was fucking crazy! Of the entire TNA roster, you, Joe Hendry, and Jordynne Grace had been picked to join the Royal Rumble. Everything was so different here, you could see why Kevin liked it. Everything reminded you of him, and to be able to see him this much was so great. You traveled together, for the first time since your teenage years, and with all of the excitement you felt that young again too.

The Guerrilla was packed. It was great to see people you had worked with in the past, like Naomi and AJ Styles, but it was also great to meet new faces. Maxxine Dupri was the nicest person you had ever met, and so pretty. And you finally got to meet Chelsea! She wanted to keep in touch in case Matt tried to take her actual belt next time, apparently she hadn’t known he bought the replica.

Right now, the women’s rumble was seconds from kicking everything off so it was mostly women in the area, but a couple guys were wandering around too. Joe Hendry had stayed near you, which both of you were thankful for, he was actually a pretty shy guy behind cameras and you hated being alone around so many people. Jordynne and Naomi were a lot more acquainted than you were with her, so they snuck off to the side to have a chat.

The match was quick to begin with Iyo Sky and Liv Morgan before others started to quickly fill in. Your number was later on, you’d gotten 22. You didn’t want to be so late, and had tried to fight Paul about it but he was adamant the crowd would be excited, plus you had enough spots behind you to stay in for a while. The crowd started to wear out in Geurilla, and eventually you found yourself in the small room everything led to, with about ten other entrants, Maxxine had just went through the curtain at number 14.

“So,” Kevin strolls up from behind you with a bowl of something from catering. “I don’t want to hear a single word of this. But I called in a favor.” Your eyebrows furrow as you turn to him, and he holds up a hand. “Not a word.” And then he walks out. What the fuck?

You don’t have time to think about that anyways, now you’re wishing Jordynne (number 19) good luck as the buzzer rushes. After her, is the great return of Alexa Bliss, who is granted the biggest pop so far, which Zelina Vega follows, and then all that’s left in front of you is the grey curtain covering the biggest opportunity you’ve received in your life.

That was both the longest and shortest minute and a half of your entire life, but when the crowd counts down, and the buzzer rings out, and your music starts playing, you’ve never heard anything louder. You fight to your last breath, and then you keep fighting. You make it pass Nia Jax’s mass elimination, and lots of other attempts, and somehow, its just you and Charlotte Flair. You give it your best, but the nerves get the best of you, and Charlotte ends up throwing you over the rope.

As disappointed as you are, you made it farther than you could’ve dreamed of, and as the fans yell for your attention while you walk back up the ramp, you can’t help but be proud. You walk through the curtain to find your fellow (past, and present) TNA stars cheering you on, and you’re too busy taking the praise with embarrassment and a shy gaze to the ground, that you don’t notice Kevins favor until you’re snapping a picture with HHH for media.

In all of his glory, standing directly across from you all the way across the room, is Cody Rhodes. Clapping. And staring at you, with that one smile. Y’know, the one, the Dashing Cody Rhodes shit eating grin.

“Oh my God, Kevin,” You mutter under your breath when the pictures are over and you can turn away. “What the fuck. Kevin. What the fuck.” Kevin is no where in sight, and Paul is laughing at you so hard.

“Heard you’re a pretty big fan,” You can hear him approaching from behind you and there’s nothing else you can do but face him and hope not to embarrass yourself any further.

“I’d say I’m an avid watcher, if that’s what you’d like to consider me, yes.” He’s still grinning at you like that, and it’s making this so much harder. The rest of the room is funneling out.

“Oh, okay, okay. Just a big Stardust fan, then?” Your lips purse into a fine line when you find you have no explanation.

“How much did he tell you, exactly?” God, you’re never coming back to this company ever again. Only to get back at Kevin for this. He shrugs.

“I’m just teasing, don’t worry,” His grin relaxed, and suddenly he looks more like the American Nightmare Cody, and his hand is resting on your shoulder. “I’m a pretty big fan, too. You were great out there.”

“Oh, I tried my best, thanks,” Your face is heating up again, and you try to push it off.

“Really, you were great. I hope I get to see you around some more.” You still can’t find any words, and the room seems to be getting hotter by the second. “Or, out of it either. Not to be this straight forward, and feel free to tell me to back off, but if you’re around tomorrow, I’d love to take you to dinner or something.”

“Uhm, uh-“ I’m between your sputtering you find yourself laughing. “You’re about to go fight to the death with my brother.” He laughs, looking down at his ring gear, and nods his head, because yes, he’s going to go beat the shit out of your brother.

“I’m guessing that’s a back off?” He looks back up through his eyelashes with the grin that makes you melt.

“No, no, please, bring him to hell and back.” You grin back, before nodding shyly. “Dinner would be great.” Before you have the chance to keep talking, Pauls calling him over, and he gives you an apologetic look and tells you somehow, he’ll get ahold of you before he rushes over to HHH. Kevin comes in shortly after, and laughs at you with no clue that his worst enemy thinks your fine as hell, and that you’re going to go chase Jey Uso down for his phone number. You sit in the Guerrilla for just a second longer and watch them both disappear behind the curtain before you run off to take a shower, and text everybody you’ve ever known that Cody Fucking Rhodes just asked you out.

Maybe you would be coming back to WWE a couple more times.

Wow look at me goooo it feels like its been so long since i wrote for Cody (prolly cuz it has been)

I’m hungry, sick, and tired but I’m ignoring all of my problems and sat down during raw and couldn’t stop so here you go ig

Enjoy this you probably wont get much more from me this month but im gonna try my best i think the seasonal depression hit me mostly last month but its supposed to snow on Wednesday so that’s when we’ll really see

[crxssrhxdes]

Jealousy.

Cody Rhodes gets jealous over other men looking at you, and you tease him about it to get under his skin until it backfires.

warning: cody is possessive, cody is a tease, (you receive) cody leaves you on the edge.

Author note(s) (i fucking love this photo of cody 😍)

this is my first story and i hope yall enjoy it 🤍

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You and Cody rhodes have been dating for around three years, You both went to the bar tonight with a few friends, You put on your favorite black dress that is backless, and shows your cleavage. Cody on the other hand, he wore a black suit, as usual and his matching black pants with black shoes, his iconic american nightmare tattoo being the only thing visible on his neck, his blonde hair suiting the outfit.

“Y/n are you ready? we are gonna be late!” cody says as he waits for you to finish applying your makeup, You let out an annoyed “Yes im almost done but why does it matter its just the bar cody” Cody sits down patiently “Honey im just saying, you do take forever to get ready you know..” Cody’s voice trails off as he sees you finishing up your lipstick, Suddenly you get an idea, and obviously its to get under his skin since you find cody so attractive when he is in his angry mood. “Ya know..Cody just say you wanna see the other women at the bar” You say, trying to fake an attitude before looking at cody. “Y/N you know it isn’t like that princess, but we have our friends already waiting for us.”

“Yeah yeah” You say, trying to act annoyed before cody grabs your hand and you both walk to his truck, Cody opens the door for you, and without you realizing his gaze slowly moves down to your curves, where your dress deliciously hugs them and suddenly he feels a surge of possessiveness but also a whole new urge to mark your body, for others to see.

You get to the bar with Cody, Obviously you are a lightweight, and cody is somewhere with his friends now and you are with your friends, You thought cody wasn’t staring down at you in the bar but he was, making sure no other man was eyeing you down let alone talking about you. you also thought he was drinking, clearly he wasn’t drinking. Suddenly your bestfriend rhea thought it would be funny to talk you into flirting with a man as a joke and since you’re buzzed you do it.

“Hey handsome..” You say to the man, going close and gently batting your eyes at him “I want your number—“

Before you could finish cody grabs your wrist and says to the man “I’m sorry but clearly she’s buzzed.” Cody looks at you, a glint of anger in his eyes and you know deep down you’re fucked, but yet you can’t help but feel turned on by how angry cody gets..

Cody drags you to the bathroom, making sure nobody is in the bathroom and scoffs, “Y/N what were you thinking?! You know damn well you’re mine. you belong to me.” Cody stares into your e/c eyes. “Awe come on it was just an innocent joke!” you say as you just want to push cody’s buttons. Obviously cody sees this and he gets the primal urge to fuck you right in this bathroom but suddenly cody gets an idea, Cody then locks the bathroom door and he stares you down.

“Cody—“ Before you can finish your sentence cody is kissing you hungrily, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he carries you onto the bathroom counter, You moan into the kiss as you hold onto cody.

Cody starts sliding his hand beneath your dress while kissing you deeper, his hand teasing your inner thighs before breaking the kiss.

“You have tested me enough today y/n. first you have an attitude, then you want to oogle over another man who isnt me. You need to learn who you belong to.” Cody says, his voice deep and full of lust as he slides your panties off, lifting your dress and spreading your legs.

Instinctively you try to close your legs, trying to hide from cody. “No no, keep those pretty legs of yours open for me.” Cody coos, he spreads your legs again to see your cunt glistening “You’re so wet and all i did was kiss you..what’s gotten you so worked up huh?” Cody says as he gently used the tip of his thumb to rub your clit.

“You..you got me so worked up cody, i fucking love it when you’re mad..” Your voice dripping with sin and honey. Cody lets out a low chuckle “So you got me mad on purpose? Fuck..” Cody kisses you hard, he nips at your bottom lip a few times you don’t know if you can taste blood at this point, but to you or to cody it doesnt matter, Suddenly cody slides a finger inside your wet heat and you break the kiss.

“Oh fuck..your finger is so thick and long..” You softly whisper huskily, Cody smirks as he gets on his knees and he slides his finger out to get a taste of you, Impatient you whine. “whats wrong princess? what do you want huh? tell me ill do anything for you.” Cody says, his blue eyes locking in with your e/c eyes.

“Cody..i want you..” You whine as you look at cody. “Yeah? you want me? you want me to eat this sweet pussy of yours?” Cody says, his voice dripping with lust “Yeah..i do..please cody..” You whine.

Cody hears this, the way you’re begging for cody’s tongue has him wild and he immediately dives face first into your dripping pussy, you let out moans and gasps as cody’s tongue focuses on your clit, his mouth sucking onto it and his fingers moving in and out of your cunt, his fingers diving deeper and abusing your g-spot

“RIGHT THERE..! RIGHT THERE CODY!” you moan, your vision growing unfocused as you’re a moaning mess above the bar bathroom counter, you silently thank god the bathrooms are sound proof since you are being loud. “yeah princess? right there?” cody mocks as he abuses your sweet spot and sucks harder on your clit, giving you absolutely no mercy.

“IM GONNA CUM..! CODY IM CUMMING..!” You start trembling, but before you could release cody pulls away and smirks. “You can’t cum..” Cody whispers huskily before sliding your panties back on your body and fixes your dress

“But cody—“ Cody slaps your wet heat “You aren’t cumming tonight as punishment..deal with it.” Cody cleans his mouth from your juices and walks out of the bathroom, leaving you desperate for release and annoyed.

“just you wait until i get my payback..” you mumble to yourself.

[gilbertscurls]

I need a fic of dad!matt x reader with their kids Halloween 😩 I just know he’d go all out for his kids. Carving pumpkins, dressing up with them, posing with them for all the cute photos, taking them trick or treating, and letting them eat too much candy while they watch a family movie together to end the night 🧡🧡🧡🥰🥰🥰

a bit late, but hope you like it! <3

Trick or Treat ➵ Matt Sturniolo

It was late October, and the air had turned crisp with a hint of autumn leaves drifting on the wind. Halloween was only a day away, and your house was buzzing with excitement. Matt had been planning for this day since the beginning of the month. Halloween was practically his Super Bowl, and with June, Luna, and Cody to celebrate with, he was more than ready to go all out.

Morning: Pumpkin Carving

You were just finishing breakfast when you saw Matt bringing in a bunch of pumpkins he’d picked out—three for the kids and one large one for him to carve alongside them. The twins, June and Luna, let out squeals of excitement, while Cody clapped his chubby little hands from his high chair, eyes wide at the sight of the bright orange pumpkins.

“Alright, who’s ready to make the best jack-o’-lanterns on the block?” Matt grinned, rubbing his hands together like a mischievous villain.

The girls jumped up and down, yelling, “Us! Us!” Cody let out an enthusiastic shriek, waving his arms, clearly just as excited even if he didn’t quite understand what was going on yet.

You set up a little pumpkin carving station outside, laying out newspaper, tools, and aprons for the kids. Matt took it upon himself to help each child scoop out the pumpkin guts, laughing with them as they giggled at the squishy, slimy texture.

“Look, Daddy! Mine has a silly face!” Luna said proudly, pointing at the big grin she’d managed to make with Matt’s help.

“Mine’s scary!” June chimed in, showing off her pumpkin with jagged teeth and big eyes.

Meanwhile, Cody had managed to get more pumpkin on himself than in his own pumpkin, his hands and face smeared with the orange goop. Matt chuckled, reaching over to clean him up, though he couldn’t resist taking a few pictures of Cody in his messy pumpkin glory.

Finally, with everyone’s pumpkins carved and ready, you helped Matt set them up on the front porch. As the kids admired their work, you snuck a glance at Matt, who was looking proudly at the three little pumpkins lined up in a row.

“They did such a good job, didn’t they?” he said, voice soft with pride.

“They really did,” you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. Watching Matt with the kids always filled you with such warmth, and it was clear this was the kind of thing he’d dreamed about for years.

Afternoon: Costume Time

When the pumpkin carving was done, it was time for the next big event—costumes. Matt had spent weeks coordinating a family costume theme, and after much deliberation, he’d settled on a classic: you and he would be superheroes, while the kids would be their little sidekicks.

The twins squealed with excitement as they put on their matching capes and tiny masks. Cody was in his own little onesie costume, and even though he was too young to understand what was happening, he seemed to love all the attention. You and Matt donned your superhero outfits, complete with matching capes and masks, looking every bit the dynamic duo alongside your little team.

Once everyone was dressed, Matt insisted on taking photos. He set up the camera and posed with each kid individually, then with all of you together, his grin wider than ever as he held Cody on one arm and the twins held onto his other hand.

“Alright, everyone say ‘BOO!’” he shouted, and you all did, laughing as the camera snapped.

Evening: Trick-or-Treating

Finally, it was time for trick-or-treating. As the sun began to set, you and Matt took the kids out around the neighborhood, joining a crowd of families walking from door to door, bags in hand. Matt was in his element, showing off the kids’ costumes to neighbors and encouraging them to say “trick-or-treat” at every doorstep.

June and Luna took turns shouting “Trick or treat!” while Cody toddled along, holding Matt’s hand as he tried to keep up with his older sisters. Every time he received a piece of candy, his eyes lit up, and he looked up at Matt with an expression of pure delight.

When you stopped by a house decorated with spooky lights and a fog machine, Matt playfully crouched down, pretending to be scared. “Whoa, look at that! So spooky!” he said, feigning terror.

The girls giggled, and June tugged on his sleeve, reassuring him, “It’s okay, Daddy, we’ll protect you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Matt pretending to be scared for their amusement, his goofy grin showing just how much he loved every second of this night.

By the time you made it back home, their candy bags were bursting, and their eyes were wide with excitement despite the sleepy expressions starting to show.

Night: Family Movie and Candy Overload

Back home, you helped the kids get out of their costumes, washing off any lingering makeup and getting them settled into pajamas. Matt grabbed a few bowls and let each of them pick out their favorite candies to munch on as you all snuggled up on the couch for a Halloween movie marathon.

With Cody cuddled on Matt’s lap and the twins curled up beside you, the family movie night began. You all watched as classic Halloween cartoons played on the screen, with the kids giggling and gasping at the spooky but silly scenes.

When the movie ended, Matt leaned over, a soft smile on his face as he looked down at the three kids, all nodding off one by one. He gently tucked Cody into the crook of his arm and helped guide the girls’ heads to lean against you, their eyes closing as they fell asleep, their little hands still clutching half-eaten pieces of candy.

You looked at him, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. “This was the perfect Halloween, Matt.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “It really was. I’d do this every night if it meant seeing them this happy.”

You leaned against him, watching the kids as they slept, candy wrappers and empty bowls surrounding you, and in that moment, you knew that these were the moments you’d remember forever.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash

[miss-musings]

"I Say We Take Her With Us": How TCW's Waxer & Boil Prefigure Hunter & Crosshair in "The Bad Batch" Series

A running joke in the TCW/TBB fandom is that all the clones have Dad Genes™️. Outside of Jango Fett himself, the first indication we have is Waxer and Boil's dynamic with Numa in "The Clone Wars" Episode 1.20 "Innocents of Ryloth."

In revisiting the episode recently, it struck me how much Waxer and Boil's initial reactions to Numa and their eventual bond with her feels like a template for Hunter and Crosshair's dynamic with Omega in "The Bad Batch" series.

Like Hunter, Waxer bonds with Numa very quickly and takes more initiative when it comes to her safety. He's also more comfortable with physical affection -- patting her head, booping her nose, putting a hand on her shoulder, etc.

Like Crosshair, Boil argues to leave Numa behind when they first encounter her and isn't as concerned about her well-being. He does eventually take a liking to her, promising to keep her safe. Unlike Waxer, Boil isn't physically affectionate. He doesn't initiate any shoulder touches, etc., and he seems caught off-guard when Numa does.

In the end, both clones form a deep bond with their "little sister," even if their dynamics with Numa play out differently. Just so, Hunter and Crosshair both form a deep bond with Omega, although their dynamics with her play out very differently thanks to a variety of factors.

While this is the gist of it, let's take a look at Waxer and Boil as characters, including their interactions with Numa in TCW 1.20 "Innocents of Ryloth".

(NOTE: If you've already seen the episode and have a good understanding of the plot and characters, I recommend you jump down the "Prefiguring Hunter & Crosshair" section.)

Waxer & Boil in "Innocents of Ryloth"

Character Introductions

Even before they meet Numa, we get a pretty good idea of who Waxer and Boil are as individuals.

As their gunship flies toward Ryloth's surface, Obi-Wan and Cody tell the clone troopers to keep an eye out for the locals and avoid damaging their settlements.

Boil, who was carrying heavy artillery, puts it down after Cody tells them they can't use it. He then remarks to Waxer:

Boil: If we're here to free the tail-heads, the least they could do is get out of our way.

Already, we see that Boil has a shoot-em-up kind of attitude. He wants to go in guns blazin' and get the job done, and he doesn't like that consideration for the locals is putting a damper on his fun.

He's also maybe a bit racist??? (Tail-heads sounds like a racial slur to me, and I've seen other comments agreeing with that assessment.)

Waxer seems to take this in stride and later, when Obi-Wan says their squad needs to disable the enemies' guns, Waxer says:

Waxer: Here we go again.

I know it's an iconic "Star Wars" line, akin to "I've got a bad feeling about this," but it's still worth noting.

The two go with Obi-Wan and their brothers to take down the guns, with Obi-Wan commenting how Waxer and Boil "wanted action," implying he overheard their earlier comments on the gunship.

The two help Obi-Wan take out gun towers and then infiltrate the village, which is deserted. They're then ordered to help scout the village.

Obi-Wan, to Cody: Send your best men to scout ahead. Cody: Will do, sir. Boil, Waxer, come with me. Boil: I guess we're the best.

The way Boil delivers this line, it sounds like he's halfway between proud and uncertain. He probably appreciates Cody's vote of confidence in them, but is also wondering if it's because they happened to be nearby because Cody didn't explicitly call them "the best."

As the two are scouting -- both before and after they leave Cody -- Boil has his gun raised. He's ready to aim and fire at a second's notice. Meanwhile, Waxer has his blaster lowered to his torso. He's not as tightly wound up as Boil is.

As the two walk through the village by themselves, Waxer starts asking Boil questions about what might've happened to the residents, whether they were killed, etc.

Boil notes that there are no bodies, so they were likely driven from their homes.

So, even before meeting Numa, we've got a decent idea of who these two soldiers are.

Waxer is more caring and compassionate. He's definitely not as trigger-happy or aggressive as Boil, but he still does his job well.

Boil is more practical and by-the-book. He's ready to spring into action, and takes his job as a soldier seriously. He also might be older/higher-ranking than Waxer, as Waxer seems to defer to him in some cases, and Cody calls to him first.

Meeting Numa

While scouting, the two hear a sound and investigate it. They find a little Twi'lek girl, whom we later learn is named Numa.

Boil, as he sees Numa: Ah, it's just a little girl. Waxer: Well, what are we going to do with her? Boil: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Why do we have to do anything? We've got a mission to finish.

Looking closely, Boil actually lowers his blaster first, realizing who/what Numa is. But, he also sounds a bit disappointed that he doesn't get to shoot something.

Waxer immediately starts worrying about her well-being and what their duty of care is in this situation. However, Boil believes their responsibility is to complete the mission, starving kids be damned.

Waxer doesn't back down, though:

Waxer: We should do something. I say we take her with us. Boil: You can't be serious. She'll only slow us down.

Again, Boil is focused on completing the mission, while Waxer is concerned about Numa's safety.

A probe droid comes into the vicinity, and Numa cowers. Boil thinks it's because she's afraid of them, but Waxer notices the droid and realizes the truth. The three then hide, and the droid leaves.

The droid worries Boil, who says they need to keep moving. However, Waxer presses him for a third time that they need to do something about Numa. Boil reluctantly agrees to Waxer's plan to take her with them, and bends down to grab Numa. She bites him, and he calls her a "tail-head."

Waxer correctly deduces that Numa is afraid of them, as she probably assumes they're droids. He takes off his helmet, showing her he's human:

Waxer: It's alright. See? I'm flesh and blood, just like you.

The two then notice that Numa looks hungry. (The captions say Boil takes note of this, but based on the audio, I think it's actually Waxer. Waxer doesn't have his helmet on, but Boil does, and the line is delivered by someone who isn't wearing a helmet.)

Anyway, Boil takes out a ration and hands it to Waxer, who hands it to Numa. While Boil might be older/outrank Waxer, he's apparently letting Waxer take the lead in this particular situation after Numa initially bit him.

As Boil also removes his helmet, Numa calls them "nerra," which we later find out means "brother." While they're unaware, it's an indication that Numa already trusts and respects them.

Waxer tells Numa their names, but Numa continues to call them "nerra."

Boil, as he puts his helmet back on: Oh, you made a friend. Mission accomplished. [sighs] Can we go now?

I find it interesting that Boil says Waxer made a friend, when Numa was calling both of them "nerra." So, while he didn't know what "nerra" meant, he only acknowledges her bond with Waxer and not himself. Once again, he's only focused on completing the mission. He doesn't give a crap about this kid beyond answering Waxer's complaints that they need to do something with her.

Waxer stands and puts his helmet back on, as he prepares to follow Boil. He calls to Numa, who seems reluctant to leave.

Boil: Look, she doesn't even want to go. Little monster was fine before we came along, so let's MOVE.

Boil has finally convinced Waxer that they don't have any more responsibility toward Numa. She'll be fine as-is. Waxer takes one last look at Numa before following Boil out into the street.

Following Numa

Later, Numa follows the two through the streets of the deserted village. Waxer immediately notices, looking back at her, but keeps walking.

Waxer: I wonder what happened to her family. Boil: They're probably dead. Hopefully, she'll survive this mess.

Again, we see that Waxer is concerned while Boil is practical to the point of being cavalier. However, that last line makes me think Boil is starting to ... warm up ... to Numa. (Sorry, I had to.) He's definitely not on the same level as Waxer is... yet.

Waxer continues to focus on her well-being, especially with the context that she's likely an orphan. (We find out later that she's not, but they don't know that yet.)

Waxer: So, what happens to her? I mean, after we leave. Boil: I don't know. Ah, don't get any ideas. We're not taking her with us.

I do wonder who the "we" is that Waxer mentions. Does he mean his company specifically, or the clone army in general? I imagine, from context, it's the former.

I also find it funny that Boil preemptively shuts down Waxer's idea of taking her with them. He must recognize that Waxer's Dad Instincts™️ have kicked in -- probably because his have too but he's fighting them, unlike Waxer.

The two realize that Numa is no longer following them, and Waxer says in a very disappointed tone:

Waxer: She's gone. Boil: I'm sure the little biter will turn up.

Out-of-context, "little biter" sounds like it could be a term of endearment. I wonder if Boil meant it that way, but knowing his personality, he probably meant it more literally.

The two then turn around and see that Numa snuck in front of them, as she stands directly in front of Waxer. He kneels down and affectionately boops her on the nose, which makes her giggle.

Boil's a bit thrown off by the fact that she was able to sneak up on them, considering they're trained soldiers.

Numa then starts pulling Waxer, calling him "nerra" again, and pointing down the street. She runs off, clearly wanting them to follow her.

Waxer calls after her, telling her not to go that way because "that's where the recon droid went."

Boil: Waxer, let her go. Waxer, running after Numa: I'm not just gonna let the droids get her. Boil, running after both of them: I'm just trying to keep you alive! I'll be darned if I know why.

Once again, we see that Waxer's priority is Numa's safety, as he runs after her without hesitation.

Boil, like before, is focused on a combination of following orders, completing the mission, and keeping his brother safe. So, he runs after both of them.

As Waxer catches up to her, he pats her on the head affectionately.

Boil, catching up to them: Good, you caught her. You know, I have binders if we need them. [defensively] What? ... What are we doing here anyway?

Boil almost talks about Numa like she's a prisoner in their custody -- how Waxer "caught" her and how they should put binders on her. Yikes!

He's clearly getting tired of dealing with Numa, partly because she's a child and partly because they can't communicate with her. He's also getting tired of Waxer throwing himself after Numa, when they still have a mission to complete.

Comforting Numa

Numa leads them inside a destroyed house, which Waxer assumes is her home. He's sympathetic to her plight, calling her a "poor little thing" who "lost it all."

He spots a small tooka doll on the ground and gives it to her. Numa starts crying, and he comforts and reassures her by putting his hand on her shoulder.

Waxer: It's OK now. We're here to help.

Numa embraces him and continues crying. He doesn't really know how to react, but ends up reciprocating the embrace by putting a hand on her head.

Finally, Boil approaches them and kneels down too.

Boil: Don't cry kid. We'll keep you safe. I ... I promise.

Numa then embraces him and seems to stop crying. Like Waxer, Boil doesn’t know how to react to being hugged, but pats her on the back.

For Boil, this is clearly a turning point in how he handles Numa. We see later that he's still not happy about having to take care of her, but he has definitely softened toward her, after seeing what she's gone through.

He took the initiative to comfort her. He didn't need to. Waxer seemed to be handling the situation well enough. But, Boil apparently felt compelled to act too.

I imagine that, for a soldier like Boil, making a promise is no easy thing. He wouldn't have told her that if he didn't mean it, so I think -- like Waxer -- he finally let his Dad Instincts™️ kick in. He's not fighting them anymore.

And what's more is he actually one-ups Waxer in a sense. He makes a promise to take care of Numa, which Waxer never did. Waxer just said they were there to help. The wording was more general. But, Boil promises to keep her safe. It's more specific, and could be seen as more comforting: "We're here to help" vs. "We're going to keep you safe."

Side note: I do wonder if Numa is able to understand some Basic, because she gives Boil a meaningful look when he makes that promise AND she stops crying as he directed.

Protecting Numa

While they're still in Numa's destroyed home, the clones' communicators start flashing. Boil is upset, saying they'll be punished for failing to complete the mission and/or report back on time.

Waxer wonders how they're going to explain Numa to their company. He starts coming up with white lies they can tell to avoid getting into trouble.

Boil: We can try. But, mark my words: this will end badly.

Both Waxer and Boil, but more so Boil, are concerned with possible demotion/punishment.

However, they at least don't seem to be arguing about what to do about Numa anymore. They both just start leaving the home and apparently assume Numa will follow them, because they don't physically or verbally have her come along.

When they get outside, both clones take a defensive stance when they realize something's coming. Numa hides behind Waxer, telling him of the danger, before running back into the house.

The two start fighting the creatures attacking them.

Boil: You see what happens when we don't follow orders? [grunts] Waxer: Let's get out of here.

Despite having some change of heart, Boil is still preoccupied with following orders and completing the mission. He is still very much a soldier, even if his Dad Instincts™️ have kicked in.

They barricade themselves inside the home, with Waxer holding the door while Boil shoots at the creatures. Numa opens a tunnel in the floor. Waxer helps her with the heavy stone while Boil puts down cover-fire, until all three escape safely.

When they come out of the tunnels and rejoin their company, they tell Cody they "got sidetracked." Numa, who's holding onto Boil's hand, then peers out from behind him at Obi-Wan and the others.

When Obi-Wan approaches her, she continues to hide behind Boil. Meanwhile, Waxer explains that Numa knows her way around the tunnels.

When Obi-Wan asks in her language, she says she can lead them through the tunnels and even pulls on Boil's hand to come with her.

Numa then leads Obi-Wan, Waxer and Boil through the tunnels to where the other villagers are being held prisoner.

Obi-Wan hands Numa off to Waxer. When he later indicates for the two clones to follow him, Waxer puts Numa down and Boil gestures for her to stay quiet. Numa even mimics his hand gesture as she watches the two clones follow Obi-Wan.

After Obi-Wan frees the villagers, Numa reunites with her parent, and Waxer and Boil help Obi-Wan take out the enemies' main guns.

When the two clones get injured, Numa runs to them. This causes the other villagers to come out and join the fight against the droids.

Just as the tactical droid is about to fire on Obi-Wan and Numa, the villagers swoop in and save the day.

Leaving Numa

As Obi-Wan's company prepares to leave, Waxer bids Numa farewell first. He kneels down, puts a hand on her shoulder and then pats her head.

Waxer: See you later, little one.

Again, Waxer is more comfortable initiating physical affection than Boil is. He's also intentional about getting down on her level to say goodbye.

As Waxer walks off, Boil calls to her:

Boil: Hey, Numa. Stay out of trouble.

At some point off-screen, the clones found out Numa's name. I'm assuming Obi-Wan translated for them. So, it's significant that Boil calls her by name, now that they know what it is.

Boil also recognizes Numa has a penchant for getting into trouble, and tries to warn her against it.

Numa then runs to Boil, who's standing, and hugs his leg. Boil reaches down and puts a hand on her shoulder/back.

Like before, he's not as comfortable as Waxer with initiating physical affection, and he's still not very good about receiving it either. But, he's adjusted well enough.

Boil: Don't be afraid. We'll be back.

Both Waxer and Boil tell Numa this isn't the last time they'll meet. They really did form a strong bond with her, and while it's not clear when they would have a chance, they plan to return and see her again.

As Boil walks away too, Numa looks sad to see the clones go. Her parent comforts her. She calls out "nerra" to the clones several times as she waves goodbye.

Waxer, to Obi-Wan: Sir, what is that she keeps calling us? Obi-Wan: "Nerra." It means "brother."

The two clones then exchange a brief look with each other before turning back to Numa. Waxer waves goodbye, and the two clones walk off into the proverbial sunset with the rest of their company.

I think, in that moment, they were really struck by how Numa viewed them. They probably assumed "nerra" meant "friend" or something similar. They probably had no idea it meant something as powerful as "brother."

Clearly, Numa bonded with them so intensely and trusted them so much, she viewed them as family -- even as far back as their first conversation, when they took their helmets off and gave her food.

Remembering Numa

While we don't get many more appearances of Waxer or Boil, we do see them again in Seasons 2 and 4.

In Season 2, Boil has a picture of Numa on his helmet; and Waxer also has one on his helmet when he dies in Season 4.

It just goes to show how fondly they both remembered her. They literally painted her on their helmets, as if to say, "Heck yeah, we're Numa's brothers!" I can imagine them proudly talking about their “little sister” anytime someone asked about the design.

It's also implied that, at some point during or after the war, one or both clones returned to Ryloth to visit her.

When we see Numa in "Rebels," she's wearing 212th armor and even has Boil's name in Aurebesh on it. I know it's probably more of an Easter egg/headcanon, but I like to think Boil survived the war and returned to Ryloth to see her. It would explain how she got the armor and why his name is on it.

Plus, as I said, Boil is a soldier. He's not going to make promises flippantly. If he said "We'll be back," then I believe he’d follow through if/when he had the chance. I'm sure Waxer would've too, if he hadn't died on Umbara.

The three of them really had a special connection that lasted the rest of their lives.

Prefiguring Hunter & Crosshair

If it wasn't clear already, Waxer and Boil's dynamics with Numa -- both as a group and as individuals -- are very similar to Hunter and Crosshair's dynamics with Omega later in "The Bad Batch" series.

In both cases, two clone brothers are presented with a relatively helpless girl. One insists they have to help her, while the other is against it, believing their priority is their job as soldiers.

Even some of the dialogue is similar, with Crosshair and Boil both continually emphasizing how they need to "follow orders" and "complete the mission." Even Boil's "let her go" is similar to Crosshair telling Hunter:

Crosshair in 1.15: You want to protect the kid? Then let her go.

Ultimately, both sets of brothers decide their responsibility to their "little sister" is important, without forgetting their duty to each other, their other brothers and everyone else who's counting on them.

Similarities Between Boil & Crosshair

These two are definitely the more aggressive brothers in their respective duos. They both seem to have an affinity for heavy weaponry, and are always looking for an excuse to shoot something. Trigger-happy, in a word.

They're both also very practical and mission-driven. They're completely focused on their duty as soldiers. They're constantly bringing up their need to “complete the mission” and “follow orders,” even if it means leaving a girl to fend for herself. They also mention, at least once, their duty to keep their brothers safe as well.

Also, Boil and Crosshair criticize their brothers' paternal instincts when they initially meet their respective "little sisters". They protest taking her with them and/or bothering with her at all.

Later on, both Boil and Crosshair seem to generally care about their sisters' well-being, but not to the same degree as their brothers. They don't want to see her get hurt, but they also don't want to be around her either.

However, perhaps despite their best efforts, they ultimately give into their Dad Instincts™️. For both Boil and Crosshair, this seems to be when their respective "little sisters" are in great distress and/or danger.

For Boil, it's when he sees Numa crying in her ruined home, realizing just how much she's lost and how desperately she needs comfort and protection. For Crosshair, it's when he and Omega are imprisoned on Tantiss, when she has no other physical or emotional support system.

After their respective turning points, Boil and Crosshair seem to be more open to and comfortable around their "little sisters." They don't mind her displays of physical affection (holding hands, hugging, etc.), and do whatever they can to help and protect her.

Ultimately, both Boil and Crosshair have flavors of the "grumpy man who's actually a giant softie" trope, which is why the scenes of Numa hugging Boil and Omega hugging Crosshair hit similarly (at least they do for me).

There's one more specific thing I find interesting with these four characters: Boil and Crosshair calling their "little sisters" by name.

While Waxer was arguably closer to Numa, we never see him call her by name. He just calls her "little one," even after (apparently) finding out her name off-screen. But, Boil specifically calls her "Numa" in their final scene together.

Throughout TCW 1.20, Boil calls Numa "tail-head" and "monster" and "little biter." While I wonder if the latter was meant with some affection, the former two are definitely mean-spirited.

In the same way, throughout TBB Season 1 and 2, Crosshair calls Omega "a child" or "the kid" or his brothers' "little sidekick" in a demeaning way.

But, in Season 3, Crosshair only calls Omega by name. While his brothers and other characters often refer to Omega as "kid" or "the kid," Crosshair never does after Season 2. She is "Omega" from thereon.

Waxer and Hunter (and the others in CF99) can call Numa and Omega "little one" or "kid," because we know they mean it in an affectionate way.

But, Boil and Crosshair don't have that luxury, because they've only employed nicknames disrespectfully.

It also shows just how much both characters' attitudes have changed when they call their "little sisters" by name.

Finally, it's worth noting that while Boil and Crosshair were initially "against" Numa and Omega, respectively, their "little sisters" don't hold grudges.

In fact, even though they bonded with Waxer and Hunter more quickly and (arguably) more closely, the girls still consider Boil and Crosshair their "brothers" all the same. The girls hold them in an equal (or near equal) degree as they do Waxer and Hunter, despite Boil and Crosshair initially rejecting them.

Similarities Between Waxer & Hunter

Unlike their brothers, Waxer and Hunter are characterized as being more compassionate and caring from the get-go, even before meeting their "little sisters."

When he sees the devastation on Ryloth, Waxer wonders about the residents, whether they were killed, etc.

Meanwhile, throughout TBB 1.01 "Aftermath," Hunter lets Caleb Dume escape Order 66 and then lies to protect him. He also refuses to kill the civilians on Onderon, and starts to see the Empire for what it really is.

This is also a small thing, but we get parallel scenes of Waxer and Hunter noticing a probe droid that their brothers didn't.

In general, both Waxer and Hunter push back on their brothers' more cavalier attitudes toward people in danger/need.

Waxer repeatedly tells Boil they should do something about Numa, and then continues to worry about her well-being while she's following them.

In "Aftermath," when Hunter sees Crosshair trying to kill Caleb and then complaining they didn't kill civilians, he calls him out on it. He also generally confronts Crosshair about his obsession with "following orders," when that was something CF99 never worried about in the past.

Then, after they find out Omega is a fellow clone, Hunter insists they need to return to Kamino for Omega despite the dangers.

When meeting their "little sisters," Waxer and Hunter seem to be naturals with kids -- at least compared to their brothers.

They intentionally get down on their knees and talk to them at eye-level. They address them calmly and respectfully. Waxer takes off his helmet to show Numa he's not a droid. They try to make their "little sisters" feel safe and comfortable, despite the stressful situation.

Once their "little sisters" are with them, Waxer and Hunter very naturally switch into Dad Mode™️. They look out for them, protect them, give them reassuring head-pats, shoulder-touches, and so on. Weirdly, though, neither are very good with hugs initially, but they get there eventually.

On top of being more immediate, Waxer and Hunter's bonds with their "little sisters" are arguably much stronger than their brothers'.

Numa seems to be more comfortable around Waxer, especially initially, despite calling both clones "nerra" after they took off their helmets. Again, it's possible that she understood some of what they were saying, and realized Waxer was trying to help her while Boil really wasn't.

For Omega, she spends more time with Hunter early on, as Crosshair was separated from his family due to the Empire enhancing his inhibitor chip. Thus, she develops a very strong bond with Hunter very quickly. Even with Tech, Wrecker and Echo around as well, Omega and Hunter's bond is special.

Overall, Waxer and Hunter seem to be the "default" or "go-to" brother when Numa and Omega are in trouble.

Finally, I also find it interesting that the last gesture of farewell is Waxer and Hunter's.

Even though both Waxer and Boil turn back to look at Numa after finding out what "nerra" means, only Waxer decides to wave back at her.

Similarly, in the TBB series finale, the epilogue shows only Hunter saying goodbye to Omega. Even though both Omega and Hunter acknowledge the other brothers' role in her life, that final moment is theirs.

Just like Numa with Waxer, Omega bonded with Hunter first. So, it feels fitting that her final scene should be with him.

Final Thoughts

It's been fun rewatching "Innocents of Ryloth" and seeing these proto-versions of Hunter and Crosshair. I have no idea whether the TCW/TBB writers did that on purpose, but even if not, it makes for an powerful parallel.

Obviously, there are some major differences. Numa's parent was still alive, while Omega never had a proper parent to begin with. So, Hunter and his brothers arguably had an even greater responsibility to Omega than Waxer and Boil did to Numa.

Also, while Waxer and Boil definitely stayed in the "brother" category, as Numa's parent was still alive, Hunter (and his brothers) crossed over into the "dad" category in Omega's life.

Unlike Waxer and Boil, Hunter & co. took care Omega for years rather than a day or two. They provided for her; they taught her; and they cared for her physically and emotionally from the TBB series premiere to the epilogue.

If given the opportunity, I'm sure Waxer and Boil would've gone back to Ryloth and checked on Numa. Maybe, after the war, they would've even stayed long-term and kept an eye on her like a big brother or uncle might. Again, they bonded with her so strongly that they drew pictures of her on their helmets. They really thought of themselves as her brothers, and ran around battlefields representing her even months after meeting her.

As fans have joked about: put a Jango Fett clone in the immediate vicinity of a kid for a decent amount of time and they will turn into a Dad™️.

Doesn't matter if they're being mind-controlled. Doesn't matter if their priority is to follow orders. Doesn't matter if they're set to be shipped to another world once this mission's done. Doesn't matter if this is literally the first kid they've ever seen in their lives (except fellow clones).

And, even if they don't get enough "incubation time" around the kid to turn into a dad, they will -- at minimum -- turn into a Nerra™️.

[wickerwax]

Imitation, and Other Forms of Flattery (Codywan First Kiss Bingo 4)

There was a tubie on-board The Negotiator.

There should not have been a tubie anywhere near the star destroyer, not unless they were doing some sort of refugee carrying, or helping out with a- a- a migration or resettlement or something – there should very specifically not have been a clone trooper tubie on The Negotiator while they were in hyperspace after leaving Coruscant.

They hadn’t even been near Kamino in weeks!?

Cody felt like he was having a stroke. He was pretty sure the Kaminoans had bred those out but the tubie - and his General cuddling it - were winning that battle against Kaminoan engineering.

“Hello there, Commander,” said his General, continuing to cuddle the tubie. It looked at him with big, dark eyes, and something in him quailed that he could ever have been so small as that. This was not office-appropriate.

“General,” he replied, strangled. “Sir, what-”

“We had a stowaway, it seems.” the man interrupted smoothly, smiling. “Luckily we hadn’t gotten very far -”

The ship shuddered gently as it exited hyperspace.

“-Ah, excellent. We’ll have one of the Seeker ships out here in no time to retrieve her.” The tubie snuggled against General Kenobi’s neck, starting to giggle at the tickle of his beard. A small brown hand buried itself in the ginger-blond. He stared.

“Sir,” Cody said, because that only explained the barest tip of the iceberg of what was going on, “Why would – I mean, that’s a tubie. General.”

Kenobi looked down at the impossible creature and Cody watched that soft-eyed smile get wider. “Oh. Oh. My apologies, Cody dear. Zanah here is one of our younglings, she’s a clawdite – she’s been fascinated with your brothers. They do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

The tubie -Zanah – blinked hugely at Cody. Abruptly, she released his General’s beard and flopped sideways, both hands grabbing for- for him. “Co-ee!” she said, as Kenobi shifted his grip to accommodate her new orientation. “Co-ee, up!”

“Manners, Zanah,” the Jedi scolded fondly.

“Up, Co-ee, please.” she amended instantly, batting her eyes.

“You’re already as up as it gets without General Skywalker here,” Cody told the tubie. She seemed unappeased. He found the picture they made, his General’s freckled face close with that small, very familiar one, vaguely discomforting in a way he really didn’t want to explore. “I can’t help you with up more than the General can.”

Zanah scrunched up her face – his face, once – and tears welled up in those brown eyes.

“Please?” she half-lisped, and Cody broke. He stepped into their space, arms lifting automatically, and got a child to the chest before he was ready (he was never going to be ready. Not this child – not this close to Kenobi).

The tears vanished like magic as she squirrelled herself into his arms. She settled her curly little head on his shoulder and nestled in like she was -

“Oh,” Kenobi said softly, and Cody made the mistake of looking up. Neither of them stepped back post-child-transfer, and grey-blue eyes now filled his metaphorical viewscreen. “A nap is probably a good idea.”

He could tip his head forward and they would be touching. Cody adjusted his hold on the – on Zanah. “You said a Seeker ship was coming?” He kept his voice low and private – to avoid upsetting the tubie snuffling into his shoulder. Not so his General needed to stay closed in this moment with him just to hear. It was – strategic.

The Jedi hummed quietly. “They already knew she was missing – it doesn’t tend to take us long.” Smiling at close range like that was a kind of lethality Cody wished he had taken into account. He could see the shadow of a dimple beneath that coppery beard, the exact angle the corner of his mouth curled up. “So it was a matter of direction. I’d give it a half hour, at best. It took me nearly that to retrieve her from Waxer and Boil.”

A suspicious absence, now that Cody knows. “I’m surprised they didn’t follow you in here, General.”

“Ah, well, they mentioned something about an appropriate send-off.” Kenobi’s gaze dropped to the small, slumbering creature, who had apparently had a very exciting morning. “She does seem charmed by you, Commander.”

He should slide the fragile little bundle back into Kenobi’s far gentler, peace-knowing hands and go disrupt his senior officers almost-certainly out of control plans. He patted her back instead and allowed the oddly sticky grip on the neck of his blacks to remain. “She has limited experience, I imagine, sir.”

The Jedi laughed quietly at him. “Or, my dear Commander, you are simply a very charming man.”

While he was distracted over that, his General had clearly come to some sort of resolution. He laid a warm hand on Cody’s shoulder and nudged him down into his seat, as across the room the kettle lit up and started to heat. “If you are to play sleeping mat, darling, I can at least see you properly acquitted with chair and caf.”

Sitting, his arms occupied by cradling a Jedi youngling who thought their faces were fascinating enough to voluntarily wear – who so immediately classed Cody as a desirable holder and space to sleep – he had nothing to do but watch General Kenobi make the drinks. There was an economy of movement there – having done this exact thing so many times – and his face was lowered like he was focusing but – he couldn’t be really. Who focused that much on tea and caf when their hands so thoroughly knew their work? No, Kenobi was thinking.

He, too, might be considering strategies to avoid the worst of Waxer and Boil’s excess. Their idea of an appropriate send-off could be anything from a late-stage kidnapping to a hazardous-to-the-ventilation number of contraband balloons.

He hoped it was the balloons.

He could make them clean up that mess and consider the consequences of excess. Not – not disguising the tubie as one of the MSE droids or something ridiculous.

The cup of caf clinked as his General set it on the table and Cody jolted. The Jedi was smiling again, blue eyes gleaming cheerful amidst their multitude of irritatingly-appealing eye crinkles. He did not comment on Cody’s frown. Only touched two fingers back to his shoulder and murmured, “If you lean back slightly, you should only need the one arm to keep her stable – at least for as long as it takes to sip.”

Carefully, Cody shifted himself backwards. Zanah snorted into his shoulder, and he felt an unpleasant dampness forming as she drooled in her sleep. She kicked. Her tiny foot bounced off his ribs and he felt a completely disproportionate kind of pain at how little force there was behind the hit.

“There you go,” Kenobi’s voice was so soft. He looked like he was holding back from leaning in himself and Cody had no idea what to do with that thought. Slowly, he lifted the non-weight-bearing arm resting against Zanah’s back. She kept sleeping, and Cody got a caf mug deposited with great care into his hand.

“Thank you, sir.” Cody hesitated, then continued, “Will she get in trouble?”

The Jedi retrieved his own mug and took his neighbouring seat before answering. “Will she be punished? No, of course not. But there will be conversations with her carers about letting someone know where she is – about how we worried she was lost or hurt. Gently, at what level she can best understand. And – apparently she managed a rather impressive notice-me-not – her crèchemaster will be on the lookout for that sort of – well, it’s kind of like a gap in your senses, it’s far more difficult to add noise to properly cover that absence – ah, that is to say, we shall adjust to meet her where she is. There may be changes.” He sighed, staring down into his tea as though the faintly steaming liquid held answers and not floral complexities I find comforting when surrounded by all this durasteel, Cody dear. “It is easier when the Temple is less empty.”

Cody hummed, comforted himself by the now-familiar tangle of scents.

“So, no. She won’t be in trouble, Cody, not like that.” he finished, glancing over - smile ebbed away into regrettable wryness. Previous conversations – tiptoeing around Kamino and its approach to the raising of their units – lay between them like a napping kamoradon. He could almost hear the not like you were. The I’m sorry for what was done. The I would see every brother of yours given home and hope and childhood were it in my power. He chose to leave the kamoradon un-woken. It wasn’t him that those teeth were pointing at.

As well, it wasn’t like he didn’t know about the meetings with senators – Kenobi pulled him in on as many as he could, was hardly the only Jedi asking their troops for input on the progress and wording of bills. Was aware, as well, that the Jedi Order at large had had no idea of their existence until his General – his General – had all but stumbled across them. The Prime had a lot to answer for – it was probably the only uncomplicated reason he had for wishing sometimes that the man had made it off Geonosis.

Zanah hurked in a sudden breath that took all of her tiny body and he had to replace the caf tableward with a clink to stabilise her. Her face lifted up towards him and she slapped a hand to his cheek in a clumsy pat as he blinked at her. The hand was not any less sticky for having already grimed his collar. “Co-ee sad?” she said, looking like she would mutiny about it if he was. Little gods, his officers would let her.

“No, no, I’m okay.” he said hurriedly, half-aware of his General’s attention getting sharper. “I was – ah, I was worried about you, Zanah.”

Her face – vod but not – scrunched. She said, voice wavering, “Zanah sad?”

His lungs grew knots. “No – Zanah, everyone is okay. It’s all okay. You were having a nice nap, yeah?”

Blinking hugely – but not yet watering – she considered him from right up close. She patted at his face again, nearer his scar. “Face hurted?”

The relief was enormous. He breathed out like a flood scouring a wadi clean. “Yeah- yes. Yes, it aches a little. It’s okay now, thank you.”

That solemn little face observed him. He could see his Jedi in that expression, and on that face it ached. If he looked sideways he might see it twice over, so he concentrated on making himself look calm and peaceful for the tubie – the youngling.

She narrowed her eyes. Nodded firmly. “Needs a kiss better. Master Urlu says it kind- kindest sooda sting.”

“Kindness soothes the sting,” General Kenobi repeated smoothly, “Well done, Zanah. What if Cody doesn’t want a kiss?”

Cody was not looking. “Cody might want-”

“Hafta ask what’s their kindest. Kind-ness, Master ‘Nobi.” Zanah said, overlapping, wiggling excitedly at the Jedi Master, “What helps.” She arrowed back in on Cody as he swallowed. Master ‘Nobi. “What helps, Co-ee? Cody?”

“A kiss would help,” he allowed, ducking his head down. She planted a kiss over the scar with an enthusiastic smack. His General was poorly muffling a laugh. He was having altogether too many feelings for a Marshal Commander on a warship and none of them were about combat, save for that which he would indulge in if someone upset this tubie.

“Master ‘Nobi, kiss help!” Zanah said, doing more of her delighted wiggling. He was focused on making sure she didn’t overbalance and didn’t take enough notice of the laugh to his side strangling quiet. When she jabbed a hand out towards the General, he compensated automatically and followed her gaze to a paling Kenobi.

Cody suddenly registered the stare-down occurring. Zanah was dramatically furrowing her less-than-impressive eyebrows, while General Kenobi was raising his with an air of studied innocence. “Just so, your kiss helped Cody feel better.”

“Master ‘Nobi! You gotta ask.” she maintained. “Master Urlu-”

“Cody,” The Jedi said, pretending he wasn’t clinging to his tea, “It simply must be asked, it appears. What would help you, my dear?”

He had a mad, brilliant, shooting-star idea. He could space himself. His mouth said, his mouth repeated, “A kiss would help.”

Zanah crowed. Kenobi’s pale filled back in with pink. “Ah.” he said.

“Quite,” he said.

“Wonderful modelling, positive reinforcement around affection between friendly adults,” he said.

Cody had clearly lost his mind and all he could think to do was smile. Encouraging. Zanah crowed again, and his General put his mug down too loudly.

“Right,” he said, and leaned over. He ruffled Zanah’s curls until she giggled and did her ineffectual best to push him at Cody’s face. Still, the man moved his focus. Once again, this close, his eyes were sabre-bright. Lightning against storm clouds. Hard to look at without getting dazzled. “Last chance, Commander.”

“I’m looking forward to being soothed by your kindness.” he replied, utterly incapable of melting butter or any other dairy-based product. Too smooth – Kenobi’s legendary side-eye made an appearance, and also he seemed to be about a foot above his own head while somehow still almost nose-to-nose. “You asked, General.”

“I have been utterly railroaded and I’m not sure it wasn’t planned.” his General muttered, twitchy. He touched a hand to Cody’s shoulder again – barely felt, hardly worth a mention, burning – and ghosted a kiss over the scar curling Cody’s eye. “Better, Cody?”

“I’m not, uh, not sure I felt that.” he managed, half his voice getting lost in-between his lungs and his lips.

This close, he thought he heard the Jedi say, you’re going to be the death of me, but then Kenobi was pressing his mouth firmly to his scar, soft and warm and impossible, and Cody lost the whisper in favour of replaying the touch as his General drew back, looking – unsure.

“Better?’ he asked again and Cody fished up a bright smile for him and for Zanah, bouncing against his shoulder and beaming upwards.

“Much.” he said, as something sunlit and fluttering went bacchanal in his chest. “Much better.”

The pink in General Kenobi’s cheeks darkened a touch. He sat properly back into his seat, averting his eyes and taking up his tea as anchor. “Excellent! Well then-”

His comm chirped loudly. Kenobi lunged for it. “Ah, the Seeker’s ship has arrived. Zanah, my darling, your chariot home is here.”

“Master Urlu?” she asked.

“Shall we go and find out?” he asked her. His shoulders had smoothed back out with a task at hand. Cody’s face still tingled.

Zanah squealed and reached for him and Cody’s tubie was neatly stolen away. His General paused - at the door before Cody’d even managed to get to his feet. “Perhaps, Commander, you might waylay our excellent officers before any especially extravagant plans come to fruition? I’ll delay so you, and they, can make their goodbyes, of course.”

Cody’s eyes narrowed. “Coward.” he accused.

Kenobi took the hit and grinned. “On this? Undoubtedly.”

@codywanfirstkissbingo number foooour is "uncertain kiss" and it's also my swapsie <3333 cl

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah my girl the HWC extra was so good.... made me feel so warm......i love them so much I wanna cry. They're married and having a baby oh I'm gonna die out of happiness. I need more of them. I need to see Harry as a dad he acted so mature with the Cody situation I wanna see more of him being all protective and hyper aware but also level headed. It was so good! You're amazing!!!

Hiii lovey!!! You’re so sweet I am so beyond happy you enjoyed that little update!! Harry was so mature wasn’t he? Meanwhile we have Niall acting like a wild animal but mainly because he was allowed to😂😂 now…this is fully all your fault so if it makes you explode into a million fluffy bits then I’m sorry but you made me do this okay? Because now all I’m thinking about is the natural next stage of not only their relationship and family but Harry’s hair length👀

With that being said enjoy this super tiny little glimpse into their future where Harry not only has long hair but also three kids with his sunshine girl ✨

-HWC can be found here✨

“Harry did you pack-”

“The extra bottle? Yes along with snacks for Grace and James and a teething ring for this,” Harry looks down just as he feels a tiny hand grab at his sock clad foot. “Drooling little mess of a boy.” He coos as he bends down to pick up his six month old son Henry who to everyone’s surprise has recently started crawling as well as teething meaning he leaves a small trail of drool just about everywhere he ventures off to while enjoying his playtime downstairs.

“At least he’s cute when he drools.” You tease as you give Harry’s backside a swift pat as you make your way around him in the kitchen.

“Your mom is being mean to me.” He gives the little boy a fake pout making a giggle bubble up out of him just as he hears the sound of little feet coming down the stairs.

“Uh oh I hear trouble.” You say with a laugh as your three year old daughter comes rushing around the corner and straight into your legs with a big grin on her face.

“Ah yes Grace Styles the biggest trouble maker of them all but if Gracie is down here that must mean her little brother James is down here some-”

“Gotcha!” Harry lifts his hand that’s not securely holding Henry, up to his chest as he gives it his all to act like the two year old that just jumped out of the kitchen pantry scared him.

“Oh you got me.” Harry says acting as if he has to catch his breath from being scared so bad, his hand goes from clutching his chest up to his forehead as James bends over laughing at how silly his dad looks. “Best scare yet I’d give it a solid eight.” You and Grace stand there and watch as the three boys get ready to go to the park for a fun family outing, James puts Henry’s socks on while Harry holds him and then once he’s done Harry puts Henry in his carrier while James takes a seat at the kitchen table and waits for Harry to help him put his shoes on since he hasn’t quite figured out which foot is which just yet but he’s getting there.

“Daddy do you always wear unmatched socks?” Grace asks as she walks around the kitchen island so she can sit at her seat so you can help put her shoes on. Harry quirks a brow as he stands up after finishing with James’s shoes and looks down at his feet and he can’t help but run a hand through his hair as he sees he does in fact have two different socks on, one white and one bright pink.

“Only on special occasions.” He gives you a playful wink when you look over at him from where you’re crouched down helping Grace with her shoes.

“But we are just going to the park?”

“Not just any park my love.” Grace and James turn to face Harry as he grabs the floral printed diaper bag that’s been in rotation ever since Grace was born. “We are going to the new park with the-”

“The swirly slides and yellow swings?” Both James and Grace ask at the same time making you laugh as you stand up and walk over to Henry who is gnawing on a toy hanging from the handle of his carrier.

“Yes the one with swirly slides and yellow swings.” Harry answers excitedly making the two little kids let out a squeal of happiness before they rush off towards the living room.

“Come on Hen let’s go get in the car while those two figure out which stuffy they are bringing to the park today.” Harry feels a grin spread across his face as he watches you lean down and place a big kiss to the top of the baby’s head before looping your arm under the handle of the carrier.

“Ya know I feel like we could do-”

“Henry isn’t even one yet so don’t try to sweet talk me into trying for another one right now.” You feel his hands on your hips as you slide your sunglasses on, Harry lets out a chuckle as he leans down and places a kiss to the side of your neck.

“He will be one in a few months so what’s the harm in just talking about it? Come on sunshine remember when you told me you wanted six kids? We’re only half way there.” You know he’s only partially joking because you know Harry wants as many kids as you’re willing to give him, six being the random number you tossed out drunkenly on your honeymoon many years ago.

“Fine we can talk about it later.” You say with a sigh as Harry’s hands pull you back just a bit so you’re flush against him.

“I love you.” He whispers in your ear before you turn your head so he can place a kiss to your lips.

“I love you too now hurry up and put your shoes on before those two come in here and get upset with you for making us late to the park.” Harry just smiles as he lets go of you so he can walk around you and open the front door for you. He gives Henry a little wave and a funny face as he looks down at him when you walk by and out the door towards the car to get him situated.

“Daddy what are you doing? Where are your shoes?” Grace’s voice makes him turn around and rush to slip into his worn out vans that he keeps by the door.

“Sorry honey I just need to grab-”

“Let’s roll!” James shouts in excitement as he appears by the front door holding the diaper bag Harry had placed on the kitchen table before helping you with the front door.

“Okay then.” Harry says with a laugh as he takes the bag from his little boy. “Let’s roll!” He pumps his fist in the air making James cheer as he sprints out the front door with a very happy Grace following behind him while Harry laughs and shakes his head as he closes the door and locks it before heading down the path towards the driveway.

[givethemsmut]

Cody Rhodes x Reader

Made of Gold | Chapter Seven

I had grown accustomed to living on Cody’s bus, exploring the city during the day and at night watching the monitors showcase his talent. I was thriving while I hit the ignore button for the millionth time on my father calling.

Shoving my phone into the back pocket of black skinny jeans with rips in the knees I headed to catering while Cody warmed up.

I had been avoiding Brandi, keeping myself on high alert, every turn backstage I was scanning the space for her. I b-lined it for the coffee when her voice sent goosebumps over my arms.

“Still around? I’m shook.”

Reminding myself I was still a few days away from eighteen I still had to channel every ounce of adulthood to argue with anyone backstage. “Sorry I made it impossible for you to shoot your shot, sweetie.”

She laughed and my eyes snapped up to hers, “You being here doesn’t stop anyone for shooting their shot. That’s your first mistake - thinking you’re his only until you have a ring on that finger.”

“I am his only, exclusively.” I quipped my words right back so quickly I even impressed myself.

She smiled, a shit eating grin, like she knew something I didn’t. “First mistake.”

Brandi left me there after her calculated attack and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had missed things. Cody was top dog here, talented, paid handsomely, and his body was rivaling Greek statues how could woman not be throwing themselves at him.

How could I miss that?

Wandering the maze like hallways of backstage I tried to find Cody but my mind was its own distraction. Wondering how anyone maintained a relationship with their partner on the road, that kind of trust and lack of cracks in their self esteem seemed impossible now that I knew how lingered back stage.

Coming around the corner I stopped short see Cody and his boss in a heated discussion or what looked like it. Pressing myself against the wall to listen I heard their exchange loud and clear.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Cody? She’s seriously fucking seventeen? You’ve been parading her around like a goddamn lucky charm.” Hunter, the weathered man still sporting muscles and champion rings spat in his face with his words.

Cody was fresher but none less a street dog ready to fight. “Her age doesn’t matter. She’s legal in a few days. Big deal.”

“Are you fucking insane? This could destroy your career if anyone else found out. You’re lucky it was just me.”

I watched their faces get so close I felt the weight of their argument sit directly on my chest.

All the ways I wore being Cody’s like a badge of honor felt cheap. Almost like I didn’t deserve it at all, not with people acting like I was poisoning his dreams. Everyone was trying to pull us apart and it felt like I should fall in line instead of fighting fate.

Hurrying with my cup of coffee I scurried away as fast as I could, taking shelter behind the first door I saw. Letting it close slowly, I let my forehead press against the cold door, and an expatriate sigh leave my lips.

“Well that’s one way to make an impression.”

Slowly looking over my shoulder, all the tattoos came into view and his gruff voice seemed to fill the room. “I’ll be gone in a second. I’m just hiding from your boss.”

I kept my voice casual and my body relaxed even though he only had a towel hanging around his waist. A gallery of tattoos decorating his skin, his hair slicked back and this grimace attached to his face that kind of made you want to slap him.

“You can make whatever excuse you like.”

“I’m with Cody…” I almost added duh because everyone knew Cody and by extension me as his.

His sinister laugh had me take a step back into the door. “Not friends with Cody. Not even close.” Ignoring him I clamped my eyes shut and waited out their argument when he spoke again. “How old are you? Are you his sister?”

I could feel the way his eyes were digging into me and pressuring me to answer. I rolled my eyes and yanked the door open but not before slinging a remark back. “Maybe you’re just used to old pussy.”

“Look at Mister WWE himself breaking the rules. I could almost be proud if I didn’t hate him so much.” He started pulling on his sweats under his towel and I could feel my cheeks burning.

“Mister WWE? He just came back.” I quipped at him, wholly offended and letting the door close again.

Ripping the towel from his waist I let myself analyze hin, the messy hair, and the way he was the opposite of Cody. He wasn’t all American, clean cut, he was rough around the edges.

He chuckled, pulling his cut up shirt over his head, “you don’t know him at all. How did you even meet him?”

Crossing my arms I stood there, barely grasping my coffee. “I know what you’re implying… I’m not some one night stand.”

His elbows dug into his legs as he leaned forward on the couch that sat against the wall. “You really don’t know him. He’s always been the good soldier, the golden boy here, and when he left he didn’t have to play by the rules anymore. Making us all look bad when he’s keeping a jailbait secret.”

I stood there, my shoulders pinned against the wall and my face smeared with guilt. I was too young, no matter how good I made it sound, and that could end everything he worked for.

He took my silence as contempt when he looked up at me, his baby blue eyes shimmering against the florescent lights. “The real question is what are we going to do about this.”

It wasn’t really a question, it was a clear intention that I owed him if I wanted him to keep my secret.

A secret Cody wasn’t ashamed of but his boss and career depended on me being legal.

“It’s not a big deal. I turn eighteen in a month.”

“That’s why you look as pale as a sheet? This isn’t high school anymore, babe. You’re playing with the big dogs now.” His voice was the perfect villain, laced with edge and charm.

I spewed snark, “Are you saying I can’t hang? I eat assholes like you for breakfast. Grow some tits then talk to me about holding your own in a man’s world.”

He chuckled like what I said was funny before he sat back. “Okay, spitfire, let’s see if you can hang. This is gonna be fun.”

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes at him and cracked the door open to scan the hallway to make sure neither of them were in the vicinity.

Looking over my shoulder he waved with a big smile plastered across his mouth. “Have fun out there.”

I safely made it back to the gorilla area cluttered with monitors and tech things that kept the production going. Between his ex-finance, his boss and his enemy I ran into it felt like I had no allies here. The loneliness I didn’t feel until now felt like a weight on my shoulder I didn’t expect to carry.

Not while surrounded by people.

Without touching me I felt a hard chest scrape my shoulder blades and a warm mouth practically close over the shell of my ear. “I gotta talk to you.”

Cody’s voice was full of dark clouds and I knew it was about to pour.

All the ways we were safe in our bubble at his house no longer existed.

Taking his hand I trailed behind him, letting him lead the way with a melted expression. He lead me back to the bus and stood in the aisle with his arms crossed.

Standing in front of him I let our soon-to-be argument a wide birth. “Fucked me out of your system.”

I wasn’t going to wait for him to break it off, I was going to beat him to it.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He paused, his eyes half mast and full of unhinged rage. “Fucked you out of my system? You really think I can fuck the kind of poison you are out of my system?” His arms unfolded and his palm ran over his crotch before giving himself a hard squeeze.

I bit the inside of my cheek, staying silent while I waited for him to continue.

“Your dad called Hunter. He wanted to let him know that was kidnapping you, raping you and WWE would be found as an accomplice. As much as being told I can’t have you makes me want to fuck you more… we need a game plan. One that doesn’t involve you ending things between us.” His stern voice hit me like a pillow case full of bricks.

Taking out my phone of my back pocket, I tapped my missed calls and dialed. Telling his boss? That’s just foreplay, my dad just wanted a way to force me to call him back and it worked.

“Father.”

“Daughter,” he repeated. “Have you come to your senses?”

“What is it going to take for you to back off?” I slice my words making sure it’s all business, no pleasure.

There was a pause of silence but it felt like it was for my benefit instead. “Sweetheart, he’s taking advantage of you. I’m just looking out for your best interest.”

Fighting the urge to pace I sat down on the edge of the seat, leaning forward into my phone when I hit speaker. “You’re ruining his life. He’s not some predator, I threw myself at him numerous times and he rejected me like a gentleman.”

“I don’t need to hear all the ways he forced you to act like a slut. You’re lucky I haven’t involved the police. Get home - before I do.”

The line went dead and I fought every urge to scream when I gripped my phone so hard I was willing it to crack.

I knew we were doomed. At least until eighteen.

“I’m gonna go… he’s not going to stop until he gets his way. I’m gonna go pack.” I brushed by him, letting the reality of us set in when I closed the door behind me.

A few moments later the door sprang open and Cody was making demands while I sat on the floor with my open suitcase. “Delete your socials. All of them. Anything with your birthday that the public can access. Unfollow everyone. No one can prove shit if they can’t find you. Two can play that game.”

I looked at him confused not sure how deleting my online presence was going to satisfy my dad.

Or his job.

“That doesn’t change anything, Cody. I’m still not eighteen and too many people know now.”

I kept packing, avoidant but still filling my suitcase when Cody sat on the end of the bed. “Too many people know? Who else knows?”

I could see his eyes slant and the wonderment scatter across his features. “Some guy backstage… I didn’t say anything. He just knew. He thought I was your little sister.”

Scrubbing his face he paused before speaking again, “Who? Who was it?”

Continuing to pack I stopped, kneeling between his legs, I looked up at him. “Tattoos, slicked back hair, said he doesn’t like you…”

“Phil fucking Brooks? Are you kidding me?”

Looking at his in confusion I rested my hands on his knees waiting for him to elaborate.

“He hates me. Not for the sake our keeping storylines authentic but deep fucking hate. How did he find out? What were you doing around him? He never leaves his dressing room.”

Letting my head drop and my arms press even more against his legs I explained. “I overheard your boss and I accidentally ended up in his dressing room. He was pleasent enoug.”

Not that it helped Cody feel better but I tried to smooth it over, playing it down and leaving out the blackmail part.

Standing up eruptly I stumbled backwards, catching myself on my hands, and looking up at the god like tower of his body. "I'll figure it out. I gotta get warm. I booked us a hotel already, no shows tomorrow and we could use a bigger shower. Take a rental and I'll meet you there after the show."

He wasn't so much asking but making demands. It wasn't going over my head that I was being banished to the hotel to hide out, where no one could question my age or mistake me for his little sister.

I nodded my head, agreeing, and watched him walk back off the bus from the back suite.

Continuing to pack, I filled up a suitcase with everything I needed before escaping off the bus and heading inside to snag some keys for a rental. Security looked more intimidating than most of the roster for WWE, big, burly men with stern features that begged you not to speak to them.

"Just snagging keys for a rental?" I spoke softly, hoping he didn't ask too many questions because I didn't have answers.

“Badge.”

Pushing up my phone to his face I showed his the plastic stuck inside the clear plastic case. Looking down he nodded and slide to the side grabbing a pair of keys before handing them to me.

Beeping the alarm I found the car pretty quickly, shoving my bag into the passenger seat, and climbing behind the wheel. Realizing I had no idea what hotel where or where I was going I sat there full of frustration until all of my cracked.

Startled by the knuckles tapping against the tinted window I jumped back against the soft leather. Trying to control my breath I pressed the button to roll the window down when the stranger in a cap looked up.

Revealing him and his familiar voice I let myself shift right into annoyance. “Can I help you? Phil, right?”

“You’re going to the hotel?” His eyes were bright, piercing the over cast day and I felt hypnotized.

Nodding I bite my tongue.

“I’ll bum a ride.” He rounded the car and yanked the car door open, sliding right in to the passenger seat. “It’s a mile away.”

I scolded him, “is this the favor I owe you?”

His grimace smile took up room on his face when his hand pushed his hat off. “Oh, no, sweetheart. You’ll know when I cash in that favor." Pausing only long enough to iritate me he continued, "I'm not into jailbait. Stop worrying."

"I'm with Cody."

Backing up and flooring it around the building I merged onto the street. Forcing him to cough up the directions I had no problem aimlessly driving around a strange city when he finally pointed out each turn.

Pulling into the hotel I slipped out before he could and slammed my door. I could hear his footsteps against the pavement trying to keep up with me. "Let me guess, he wants you at the hotel since Hunter found out you're under age? Out of sight, out of mind?"

I ignored him even though I already had the same thought. Standing at the desk, smiling politely, I gave Cody’a real name when the woman smiled back and came up empty.

Stepping to the side I had to call Cody, first I didn’t even know the hotel and now I couldn’t check in without whatever name he uses to check under.

It rang a few times before he answered, “What’s wrong?”

“Apparently you don’t book under your name…” I let my annoyance disappear as I spoke.

I could hear Phil checking in next to me, pouring through my ears as much as the phone.

"Is that Phil?" His voice was cut, sharp but less damaging. "Stardust, don't ask. It was a bad time in my life."

The way he trailed off made me thing there was so much more to the story. "If it was a bad time why do you use that name?"

"Don't change the subject. I thought we talked about staying away from him."

"I can't help he is at the same hotel, Cody. Don't worry, I am staying out of sight." I meant it as a dig when I rolled my eyes aggressively before dropping my phone down to the counter and hitting end call. Phil's intrusive thoughts had crept in and made a home right in my insecurity.

Not so gracefully, I gave them Stardust and she handed me two key cards. I felt exhausted when I dragged myself to the elevator, standing there I hit the button for my floor when Phil narrowly escaped being asked for photos. As the doors closed I watched their disappointment grow against their features.

“So you’re a dick to everyone. Cool.”

“Self preservation, sweetheart. If you take one photo you have to for everyone so I don’t take any. This is actually your first rodeo so I would really keep your opinions to yourself.” Crossing his arms he leaned against the rail lining the elevator.

“He’s not keeping me a secret.” I tried to sound cruel but it came out sad instead.

He silently chuckled, the way your mouth opens but you stay silent, “How long until you turn eighteen?”

“17 days…”

He laughed out loud, knowing he was right. Part of me knew too but I wanted him to be wrong. “His image is everything to him. The second you don’t comply with that good boy act, he’ll kick you to the curb, sweetheart.”

"I'm just suppose to believe you? Aren't you his enemy or whatever?" The elevator dings, the doors opening and a large family continued to pile in even though we were going up. Still waiting for my answer, Phil, better known as CM Punk, swiftly moved closer, invading every inch of my personal space.

I could smell his cologne mixing with burnt black coffee he was so close. Swallowing hard against my dry throat I tried to keep my eyes focused ahead instead of analyzing every tattoo cover his exposed arms.

"That's exactly why you know I'm not lying. He's kicked every woman to the curb for not being the perfect trophy wife... or getting knocked up... You don't strike me as the kind who sits in a hotel room waiting on some guy."

The suitecase bubbed into my leg and I felt my knees buckle as I fell right into Phil. Catching me, his arm wrapped around my waist while his hand braced against the elevator railing. "Good thing you don't know me," I quipped back.

The large family got off, we had missed our floor or maybe the elevator never got there, who knows. I was distracted by the way Phil smelled and was reading me like a book. I was drunk off it even though my heart belonged to Cody.

Pushing past him I faced the doors, leaning against the cold surface of the wall and trying to ignore him.

Phil kept his distance, taking the hint, when the doors pried open on our floor. "Alright trophy wife, see you at hell in a cell, if he lets you watch, of course."

I watched him walk down the hall, waiting for it to be a safe enough distance before I stepped out. Going the same direction I scanned the numbers on the door until I found mine. Of course his was next door.

Behind the closed door I finally exhaled in relief.

Phil had delivered the ultimate insult and I wasn’t about to let him be right.

I didn’t see Cody at all that night and when I stirred awake I felt my ass hit every hard inch of his body tucked against mine. His arm was lazily draped over my waist and our legs were one movement away from tangled when I rubbed my eyes awake.

Without a word I heard Cody’s sleepy voice, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re tense and planing an escape. I’ll ask again, what’s wrong?” His voice was soft and his eyes were still closed as I looked over my shoulder.

Twisting towards him, “I’m not a trophy wife… I don’t wanna be banished to a hotel and hidden.”

His hand hadn’t stopped roaming my body as he crept closer to me. “I’m not hiding you, I’m keeping the peace until you turn eighteen. As for trophy wife, sounds like Phil got under your skin.”

“Under my skin? How about grating every insecurity and nerve?”

Cody’s lips caught mine in a simple peck as his hand cupped my face. Pulling away only enough he whispered, “Everyone had opinions. Everyone is going to hate us, you have to ignore it.”

“Why does everyone have to hate us?” I barely managed to ask when his mouth found my neck, covering my sensitive skin in kisses.

His hand fell down my body, cupping my breasts and feeling my hard nipples scrape his palm. “Because I unapologetically want you. I’m not hiding it. People love misery, not happy endings baby.”

Cody’s hand drifted further down me until I felt his fingertips smoothing against my panty covered slit. I gasped right into his chest as my hands clutched onto him.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”

My legs fell open and I was biting my lip as his fingers pushed my panties to the side. “More, please, more.”

“More what, baby?” He teased me and my hips pressed into the firm mattress.

His warm breath cascaded down my bare pussy and all of me shook. With an exhale I said, “Fuck me.”

Cody didn’t need to be told twice when he pulled down my panties, flinging them at the floor and taking up the space between my legs. The backs of my thighs rubbed against his while his hands worked over himself like a pep talk he didn’t need.

“Why do you do that? Like you aren’t hard already…”

I was hypnotized by his lazy hand jerking himself off between my legs.

“Because your little, tight, pussy gets so much wetter when you watch me baby. I need you as wet as I can get you if I want to fit…” he trailed off while lining himself up. With one hard thrust I felt Cody take up every inch of vacancy my pussy had and gasped at the thickness.

“Oh my God,” I clamped my eyes closed and moaned through the way he felt inside me.

“That’s it, baby. I love the way your pussy chokes my cock. Fuck.”

His dirty mouth only made me wetter when he held himself above me, our mouths full of friction without kissing.

Cody fucked me until I was screaming his name and begging him to not let me come again. My legs were still shaking and I could still feel the orgasm lingering by the third time he made me come all over him.

Kissing my temple he sat back on his heels. “Fuck, I’m gonna end up getting you pregnant, I like making you come too much. Look at this mess you made all my cock, baby.”

He was looking down at himself, still hard, covered in my orgasm still and I felt the iron butterflies in my stomach flutter again.

My cheeks burned and nothing could have felt further from the truth. Cody wasn’t hiding me, he was enjoying me and the two couldn’t both be true.

After Cody showered off he headed to the gym when I got dressed to explore what shopping was near by. As I opened my hotel room door I didn’t see anyone in the hallway as I got on the elevator.

Charging towards me Phil stopped with millimeters between us, barely making it before the doors closed. “Do you think you’re funny? Fucking him so loudly I can hear you coming in my room?”

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“My Boys, My Warriors” pt.2

Clone Commanders x Reader (Platonic/Motherly)

⸻

The lights didn’t feel as warm.

Maybe they never had been.

But after she left, the halls of Tipoca City felt hollow in a different way. Like the soul had been scraped out of them. Like they were just walls and water and cold metal now.

Jango Fett resumed full-time oversight of their training. And if the Kaminoans had wanted detachment, they got it in him.

No singing. No softness.

No one tucked in their blankets when they were feverish or whispered old Mandalorian stories when they had nightmares about being expendable.

They still trained hard. But now the bruises were deeper. The reprimands sharper. There was no one to tell the Kaminoans no.

No one to put a gentle hand on a trembling shoulder and say, “You’re not just a copy. You’re mine.”

Jango didn’t speak much during drills. His corrections came in clipped Mando’a, and his disapproval was silent, sharp, and heavy.

He wasn’t cruel. But he was hard.

Cody adjusted first. He always did. He kept his head down, corrected the younger ones, mirrored Jango’s movements until they were perfect.

Rex stopped smiling as much.

Fox picked more fights—quick, aggressive scraps in the barracks or the showers. He never started them. But he finished them.

Wolffe snapped at the medics when they didn’t move fast enough for Bacara’s healing leg. He’d never snapped at anyone before.

Bacara, for his part, tried to push through the pain, even when his knee buckled mid-sprint. He’d learned from you that strength wasn’t silence—it was persistence. But without you, his quiet stubbornness started to look more like self-destruction.

Neyo went the other direction. Withdrawn. Robotic. Like if he just became what the Kaminoans wanted, they’d leave him alone.

Only Bly still held onto that spark—but even he was getting quieter at night.

The nights were the worst.

No singing. No soft leather footsteps. No warm hand brushing their hair back when they thought no one noticed they were crying.

Fox tried to hum one of your lullabies once. It broke halfway through, cracked like a bad transmitter.

He punched the wall until Rex pulled him back.

“She wouldn’t have let them treat us like this.”

That was what Bly said one night, sitting up in his bunk with his legs swinging. His armor was off. His face was raw with exhaustion and anger.

“She’d be fighting them,” Rex agreed. “Hell, she’d be knocking skulls together.”

“She never would’ve let that training droid keep hitting Bacara while he was down,” Neyo muttered, staring at the ceiling.

Fox was pacing. “They made her leave. Like she didn’t matter.”

“She mattered,” Wolffe growled. “She was everything.”

“She said we were hers,” Cody whispered. He hadn’t spoken in a while.

They all looked at him.

“She meant it.” His voice cracked. “Didn’t she?”

“Of course she did,” Bacara rasped from his bunk. “That’s why they got rid of her.”

There was silence for a long time.

Then Rex stood up and walked to the comm wall. Quietly, carefully, he rewired the input and accessed the hidden channel she’d taught them—one she said to only use when they really needed her.

He didn’t send a message.

He just played the recording.

A static-tinged echo of her voice filled the barracks. Singing. The old lullaby—Altamaha-ha—crackling like it was underwater, like it had traveled galaxies to reach them.

The boys sat. Still. Silent.

Listening.

⸻

The rain on Kamino hadn’t changed in all these years. Same grey wash across the transparisteel windows. Same endless waves pounding the sea like war drums.

But inside the hangars—inside the ready bays—everything had changed.

Your boys weren’t boys anymore.

They were men now. Soldiers. Commanders. Helmets under their arms, armor polished, their unit numbers etched into the plastoid like banners. The Republic had come, and the war had begun.

The Battle of Geonosis was just hours away.

Rex adjusted the strap on his shoulder plate, glancing sideways at Bly.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Bly said, but his grin was tight.

Bacara checked his weapon, pausing briefly when the scar on his knee twinged. He never spoke of that injury anymore. But Cody still remembered.

Fox said nothing, helmet already locked in place.

Wolffe kept fidgeting with his gauntlet, the way he did when he was angry but didn’t want to talk about it.

Neyo leaned silently against the wall, eyes distant, barely blinking.

They were leaving. And she wasn’t here.

Cody stood apart from them, watching the gunships being prepped for launch. He wasn’t on the deployment list for Geonosis. His unit was to remain on Kamino. He told himself he wasn’t bitter. But he was.

He wanted to go. To fight beside them. To see what all this training was truly for.

And to make her proud.

But maybe this was his final lesson—to be the one who stayed behind, to remember.

⸻

Cody blinked, eyes snapping back to the hangar.

Rex was helping Bacara up the ramp of one of the LAAT gunships. Bly and Fox followed, barking orders to their squads. Wolffe paused and glanced back at Cody. Just once.

They didn’t say goodbye.

But they nodded. Like brothers. Like sons.

Cody stood alone as the gunships roared to life, lifting off in waves. The lights dimmed as they rose into the storm, swallowed by the clouds, by war, by the future.

And then they were gone.

She wasn’t there to see them off.

Wasn’t there to adjust their pauldrons, or whisper a quiet prayer to whatever gods had ever watched Mandalorians bleed.

Wasn’t there to call them her boys.

But they carried her with them anyway.

In the way they moved. The way they protected each other. The way they looked fear in the eye and didn’t flinch.

They were ready.

She’d made sure of that.

⸻

The stars had always looked sharper from Mandalore’s moon. Colder. Brighter. Less filtered through the atmosphere of diplomacy and pacifism.

She stood at the edge of the cliffs, cloak billowing behind her, hand resting on the hilt of her beskad. Her home was carved into the rock behind her—simple, hidden, lonely. She liked it that way.

Or… she used to.

Now, the silence grated.

The galaxy was changing again.

And this time, she wasn’t in it.

Not yet.

The sound of approaching engines echoed across the canyon long before the ship touched down. Sleek, dark, familiar.

She didn’t move. Just watched as the vessel landed and the ramp lowered.

He came alone.

Pre Vizsla.

Always so sure of himself. Always dressed like a shadow wearing Mandalorian iron.

“You’re hard to find,” he said, stepping toward her.

“You weren’t invited,” she replied, voice cool.

He smiled. “I come bearing opportunity.”

She didn’t return the smile. “You’ve come trying to recruit me again.”

“I’ve come with timing,” he corrected. “War has returned to the galaxy. The Jedi are distracted. And Satine—your beloved Duchess—still preaches peace while Mandalore rots from the inside out.”

She said nothing.

“I saw what you did with the clones,” he added, tone shifting. “You made them warriors. Not just soldiers. You made them believe they were worth something.”

“They are worth something.”

Vizsla tilted his head. “Then come and fight for your own.”

She turned, eyes burning. “Don’t mistake my silence for agreement, Pre.”

“Mistake your inaction for cowardice, then?”

He was testing her. Like he always did. And damn him, it was working.

⸻

She sat in her home, beskar laid out before her. She hadn’t worn full armor in years. Just enough to train, to spar. Not to fight.

Not since they’d made her leave Kamino.

Not since her boys.

The comm receiver sat in the corner. Quiet. Dead.

No messages. No voices. No lullabies.

She lit a flame in the hearth and sat with her old weapons. Blades, rifles, her battered vambraces. Things that had seen more blood than most soldiers ever would.

Her fingers brushed the edge of her helmet.

Was Mandalore dying?

Was she wrong to have left?

She remembered standing before the boys—tiny, stubborn, brilliant. Shouting orders in the training halls. Singing when they couldn’t sleep. Watching them grow. Watching them become.

She wasn’t there to protect them now. To protect anyone.

Satine’s voice echoed in her memory—“The cycle of violence must end.”

But Satine didn’t raise a thousand sons who were bred for war.

At dawn, she returned to the cliffs.

Vizsla was still there. Camped nearby. Waiting.

She stood beside his ship, helmet under one arm, braid coiled tight behind her.

“Don’t think I believe in your cause,” she said.

“You’re still here,” he replied.

“I’m here for Mandalore.”

“Then we want the same thing.”

“No,” she said, stepping onto the ramp. “We don’t. But I’ll fight. I’ll watch. If Mandalore can be saved, I’ll make sure it is. And if you try to burn it down—”

“You’ll kill me?”

“I’ll bury you.”

⸻

Unbeknownst to her, far across the galaxy, in a Republic base camp on Geonosis, Rex opened his comm receiver.

A soft blinking light glowed.

Encrypted channel. The one she’d taught them.

A message was sent.

No words. Just a ping. A heartbeat.

She would know what it meant.

They were alive.

They were fighting.

And somewhere in her gut, on that cold moon, she felt it.

⸻

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |