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deejadabbles · 11 months

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The Handmaiden's Fox (Fox x Fem!Reader) Chapter One

Summary: You have been by Amidala’s side since she was the queen of Naboo and no one will shake you from your duty. Not even a handsome, red-clad commander who seems quite taken with the friendship you’ve forged. Commander Fox x fem handmaiden reader. Slow burn, friends to lovers. Rating: Mature A.N: So for those of you who don't know: all of Padmé's handmaidens take new names ending with " é " as a sign of loyalty to her. I never mentioned the reader's é name as I want that to be personal, but I wanted to mention it since it comes into play in the story <3

I've also made a playlist for this series, in case you want to set the mood with tunes. Word Count: 6,284 Warnings: just some blaster fire and canon typical danger Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3

Prologue /// Part One /// Part Two /// [part three coming soon]

Chapter one

The roaring of the senate chamber was deafening. You had thought that years of exposure to it would harden your hearing, but no petty debate between dozens of senators could have prepared you for the screaming of the last two weeks. Two weeks. Not even fourteen rotations had passed since the battle of Geonosis. Since the start of the Clone War. Every day more and more planets were leaving to join the Separatists, and the destruction of chaos was spreading fast. So, you supposed it was little surprise that every single debate in the Senate was automatically a vibrant verbal brawl now.

And here you had hoped that fewer senators in the hall would lessen the noise.

As always, you stood sentry behind your lady, your Amidala, who had fought in the first battle of the war. Who had been thrown into a pit for execution, and blasted her way out like a warrior. Now, she was in a whole new type of pit, instead of fighting starved beasts, she was now fighting numerous senators who seemed content to throw out any shred of decency in favor of war.

You watched as the senator from Corellia made their argument, that they needed to cut off relief aid funding in favor of the cloning facilities. Just two weeks in, and the need for more clones was already apparent. In the seat in front of you, you watched Padmé stiffen at the way the other senator implied that ‘lesser’ worlds needed to help themselves before asking the Republic for aid. She was raring for a fight, and fight she did.

You never got tired of watching Padmé put someone in place with a few carefully chosen words. Never tired of the way she fought for others…even if it didn’t always work in the end.

“Motion passed,” came Chancellor Palpatine’s voice.

You closed your eyes with the smallest sigh, knowing that even more suffering would come to pass now. At least this was only a motion to start talking about cutting funding. Padmé would do everything she could to make sure the next bill was as fair as she could manage.

When the sound that indicated the end of the day’s session rang through the chamber, you almost slumped with relief. You didn’t of course, no handmaiden ever lost her composure under the watchful eye of the senate. But you were glad that it was finally time to return to your lady’s office. A headache was coming on strong.

Padmé had more grace than to storm out of the chamber like a woman on a war path, but your trained eye could see she was exactly that as she walked calmly out into the hall. She didn’t try to hide her expressions nearly as much now, her queen persona having faded quite a lot in the passing years, but she still knew the value of looking calm to her colleagues.

The hallways were a buzz with activity, aids and senators alike calling for associates and running here and there for their next task. That, and it was filled with the sounds of armored boots.

As you and the Naboo guards followed Padmé, several groups of the new clone trooper units passed by. All of it was still a little disconcerting, having such heavily armed men tramping around. It brought back memories, wounds a decade old still felt fresh as the sound of marching feet reminded you of droids taking over Theed.

You were proud that you had fought for your home world all those years ago, fought the Trade Federation (who now were now ironically a head of the Separatists) and took back your planet and your people. But that didn’t mean the battle was easy.

And these men, these soldiers bred for war, would see far worse in the coming days.

It might be easy, to look at their identical armor and expressionless helmets, and see them as something akin to droids, but they weren’t. They were flesh and blood under all that plastoid and, while their new and overbearing presence may be unsettling for now, you refused to dehumanize them in your mind like that.

A call of your name drew your attention back to the present, just as Padmé reached the door to her office.

“I have that meeting with Bail and Mon in about an hour, but there’s still so much work to do,” she sighed as the door closed behind her, “I hate to ask, but-”

“I will stay here and file anything you need, my lady.” You had anticipated this, things were still adjusting to the new war-time normal, and Padmé’s workload was more overwhelming than ever, and that was saying something. To ensure she got any rest at all right now, you had to do much of the paperwork she would see to personally while the committees and meeting ate up her time.

She sighed with relief and gave you that small smile that always held her deepest affection. “Thank you, I’ll get a head start on it for you at least, since I still need you to research the Chabrill and Cordia incidences.”

And so the two of you got to work. Your first tasks were easy enough, you’d lost count of the number of info packs you’d written for her on import events over the years, and they were done by the time she and the guards left for that meeting. You stayed behind in the office, her atmosphere controlls set to play your favorite soothing sounds for white noise as you worked.

Padmé trusted you to answer most of her mail and requests the way she would and save the dire ones for her personal attention. You polished up and filed her pending motions, and a dozen other mundane things that made you want to pull your hair out despite your never waving composure. God, you hated politics sometimes. More or less than paperwork, you couldn’t say, but it was always a close running between the two.

You were just answering a far too flirtatious message from Senator Dobo and almost, almost, missed the way the sound of armored feet got louder just outside the door.

Eyes flashed up to the entrance, just as it was slid open without so much as a knock.

Three clone troopers came charging in as you jumped to your feet behind the desk.

“What is the meaning of this?” you demanded in a cool tone, hands slipping into the sleeves of your tunic in a neutral dignified posture. “Troopers are not permitted in here without permission.”

“Are you Senator Amidala?” The one in front asked, tone clipped, not the monotone you had heard a few clones use over the past weeks.

“I am her aid, and I demand you answer my question, trooper.”

You saw it, the barely-there way his shoulders stiffen, before he clasped his hands behind his back, and feel the eyes behind the visor bore into you.

“We need to see the senator immediately, we’ve received intelligence that there’s been a threat made on her life.”

…Oh, was that all? You almost laughed. Though you did appreciate the man’s obvious dedication to his job.

Your eyes took in the freshly painted red on the white armor, having heard that the higher ranks of clones had adopted the marking to indicate their legions and ranks. This one had the vaguely sword-like symbol of Coruscant emblazoned boldly on his chest, while the two at attention behind him had simpler red markings.

“You must be the new Commander of the Coruscant Guard,” you said.

“I am.”

“Then, Commander, you will soon learn that there is always a threat made on Senator Amidala’s life. It comes hand in hand with her tendency to put dangerous people in their place.”

Again your keen eyes picked up on the tightening of his arms, so subtle under the armor even you almost missed it. One talent you’d learned in the Naboo royal court, was reading body language, especially the body language of those who always hid theirs. It was an even more useful skill in your new position, though you’d never thought to use it on these men. The clone was either shocked at the candor in which you spoke about the danger, or annoyed with how you were talking to him. Maybe both.

“All the same,” his tone was measured now, but you heard the hint of gritted teeth behind the polite words, “I must speak with Amidala about the threat. Personally.”

Had you not been schooling your expression like you always did here, you would have raised your eyebrows at him. You weren’t annoyed, not really, in fact, you found the way he stood his ground almost admirable. He cared about his job but…maybe it was more than that. Maybe he cared about the safety of others on a more personal level. You weren’t sure yet, but, the commander had made his way onto your list of potential allies, one you may pursue in the future.

If he was annoyed with you, there was no need to vex him further. You gave a small, respectful incline of your head. “Very well, Commander. I will escort you to her.”

He did not thank you as you made your way around the desk and walked past them through the door, but he fell in step behind you without protest. You sent a quick message from your small wrist unit, using a code phrase that would warn Padmé to be alert.

You could practically feel the tension in the troopers behind you and normally, you would ignore it, but, if you were being honest, you liked the opportunity this gave you. To learn more about the men who were now protecting the senate.

“I did not catch your name, Commander,” you said, keeping your eyes forward.

“CC-1010.”

You actually faltered a little at that, “Excuse me?” This time you actually looked over your shoulder at him, and let your brow lift up in question. You didn’t miss the way his body shifted under your gaze.

“It’s the only name they gave me, ma’am.” His tone was just a notch lower now, another thing of note.

A number. A number, like a droid.

That didn’t sit well with you, not one bit, but, you supposed it was none of your business, for now. “I see,” you said after a moment, then turned your eyes back in front of you. “Well, Commander, if you ever decide to take another name, please do let me know.”

“I didn’t get your name either.”

You almost smiled at that, and gave him the name you had taken when you took on the role of handmaiden all those years ago. Very few people here on Coruscant knew your birth name, and none used it. The commander would have to become an extremely close friend to ever earn that honor.

A few minutes of silent walking passed before you finally reached Bail Organa’s office. To his credit, CC-10- ugh, no, you were not calling him that, even in your head, unless he asked you to. To his credit, the Commander listened to your advice when you asked him to ring the doorbell before barging in on a private meeting.

You graciously gave an apology for the interruption when the four of you entered, then swept out of the way as the clones gave their report to Amidala. Admittedly, the threat was not quite as laughable as you had first thought it was, but it was hardly the worst one Padmé had faced, even just in the last year. Apparently a small-time thug in the mid-rim thought he might ingratiate himself to the Trade Federation by ‘taking out’ their most hated senator. He couldn’t afford the prices of the Bounty Hunter Guild and so, had posted smaller sums of money for anyone to take should they manage the job.

Considering Padmé had survived actual guild level assassin’s for a few years now, you weren’t that concerned.

Still, you admired the troops doing their jobs to the letter, and your lady accepted the Commander’s advice of a personal Corrie Guard escort as a precaution for the coming days. It was hardly needed. You, Dormé, and Captain Typho had always been more than enough security, but, it made the clone Commander feel better, than it couldn’t hurt.

All in all the conversation was somewhat short, and soon enough the man took his leave, ordering the other two clones to stay behind with Amidala. After that, Bail, who was amused at Padmé collecting yet another enemy, said that the rest of their meeting could wait until next time. The senators bade each other a good night and you followed your lady out of the office along with the new red painted guards.

Neither of them had said a word this whole time, but you supposed that was their right. That didn’t stop Typho from giving the clones a run down of how his guard details worked, and how he wanted the clones to integrate into that routine.

As they talked, Padmé fell back to meet your steps. “So, you’ve met the Commander of the new Coruscant Guard,” she started, tone quiet so no one would overhear you. “Did you talk to him at all while escorting him?”

“A little, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“And? What’s your opinion of him so far? Besides his lack of extroverted tendencies, that is.”

You felt the urge to bite your lip. Overall, you hadn’t spent enough time to get a decent read on him yet, but it was still odd how much of a blank slate you were drawing when thinking up your opinion. Maybe it was his armor and helmet, how not seeing his face made it harder to gauge his reactions and thoughts. Or maybe, he was almost as good as the handmaidens when it came to hiding himself through stoicism.

The fact that you couldn’t decide which was more likely annoyed you a little.

“Honestly? I’m…not sure what I think of him yet.”

That sentiment continued over the following week. You hadn’t expected to see the man in red quite so soon, after scheduling shifts for his men to rotate in and out of Padmé’s service, you had assumed he would move on to other tasks and concerns.

So, imagine your surprise when you found yourself once again in the Commander’s company without Padmé.

Once again you were in her office, working on her latest project while she and Dormé attended a charity dinner, when there was a chime indicating someone at the door. Your eyes needed a break in any case, so you pulled yourself out of your favorite armchair and rubbed your eyes as you walked to the door. Then, you felt your interest piqued when you checked the security cam and saw that red and white helmet staring expectantly at the lens. Well, at least he knocked this time. He should be glad of that for his own sake, as you were in no mood for rudeness tonight.

After straightening your back and putting on that stoic mask, you opened the door. “Good evening, Commander, what may I help you with?”

“May I speak with the Senator?”

“I’m afraid she’s out for the evening, but I should be able to help with whatever you need.”

“Very well,” He reached behind him and slid a datapad from a pouch on his belt. “I’ve reviewed the Senator’s security details based on reports my men have given me. I have some changes I’d like to make.”

A sarcastic, ‘oh you do, do you?’ almost left your mouth, but you held it in, you really must be well past tired now. He held the data pad out to you and you began reading it before you even took it in hand.

“Please, come in,” you offered with a wave, “take a seat if you’d like.” You had a feeling this was going to be a long back and forth.

He said a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” as he stepped in, but did not even glance at the various chairs in the room, opting instead to stand at attention in the center of it all.

“She won’t agree to this,” you concluded after a moment, not having even scrolled halfway through the document. “She would be appalled by the mere idea of you searching her staff’s rooms without probable cause.” Another tap on the screen. “She’d also deny the proposal to lengthen guard shifts, she tries to keep them down to 7 hours to avoid stress and,” you almost laughed at this one, “and she has never allowed guards to stay in her room at night.”

“My men would never do anything inappropriate-”

“I did not say they would,” you assured with a raise of your hand, “Amidala doesn’t even let handmaidens such as myself stay in her room anymore, it’s nothing personal.” The last thing anyone needed was a corrie guard to shoot Skywalker the next time he thought he was sneaking into her room unnoticed.

The clone was silent for just a moment, his unreadable visor trained on you as you stared back. “Are there any of my suggestions that meet your approval?”

You didn’t know if he meant to say ‘her’ and mentioned you by mistake, or if he thought that you were making it your personal mission to thwart him at every turn. He meant well, you knew that, but you could picture exactly how the conversation would go if you gave this over for her to review, and you respected his time too much to waste it.

“How about this, Commander, would you allow me to tweak these suggestions into ones my lady will consider? I will try my best to keep the heart of them intact for you.”

He shifted on his feet a little, before clasping his hands behind his back. A faint crackle of his vocator said that he might have been holding in a sigh. “I suppose that’s an agreeable compromise.”

A part of you had hoped for a thank you, after all, you were taking time out of your already heavy workload to help, but you supposed the polite nod of his helmet would do. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get comfortable in your oversized chair with him standing there like a tall armored gargoyle, so instead you sat at Padmé’s desk and began typing.

Looking back, you probably should have read the whole proposal through the first time, if you had, the last bit of it wouldn't have come as such a shock.

“I’m a subject of one of your new plans?” you asked, looking up at him and allowing just a sprinkle of incredulity onto your expression.

“Yes.”

“Care to explain why I need a clone guard of my own?”

A slight roll of his shoulders, arms still behind his back. “I researched you. You’ve been in the Senator’s employ since before she came here.”

“I have.”

“And you don’t live in the senatorial apartments like the other staff. You live alone.”

“I do.”

He was silent, which only made your annoyance flare.

“And?” it came out far more snapping than you’d meant it to, and immediately you reeled the annoyance back in. Then, much more kindly, you added, “Please, Commander, speak your mind with me.”

At that, you noticed his shoulders actually lower just a bit, a controlled version of relaxing. “Isn’t it obvious? Your close relationship with the Senator makes you a target. If any of these thugs realized how close you are to her, they’d use you to get to her. I’ll have one of my troops escort you home every night and stand guard at your apartment to ensure your safety.”

Well, wasn’t that sweet.

In truth, his suggestion actually took you by surprise. You hadn’t thought much about what living alone for the first time in a decade might mean. The condo was a new gift from Padmé, a token of her ‘thanks’ for all your years of service, a chance to have something of your own since you had lived with her since the day you stepped foot in her palace. In truth, you knew it was a peace offering, she had to change so much of her life to accommodate that tempestuous young Jedi of hers now.

It didn’t matter that you knew the basics of their relationship, Padmé still couldn’t hold her handmaidens as close as she once did, or the secret of her marriage might be jeopardized. So she offered you your own space, your own home while she had to push you away. It had hurt, it still hurt a little, but you understood, and loved her too much to complain. She loved that Jedi and, if putting space between you and her was what she needed, then you would give it to her without question.

You hadn’t even had time to think about what living away from her might mean regarding safety.

“I’m very impressed with your work, Commander,” you admitted eventually. “You obviously take your role to heart and Amidala herself would appreciate your thoroughness. But, I promise you, there isn’t any need to waste one of your men on me. I can take care of myself.”

“I disagree.”

The annoyance came back with a vengeance- how dare he assume that-!

“Disagree about there not being a need, ma’am,” he quickly amended, and you realized your anger must have flashed across your face. “I don’t know what your personal training has been like, but all the same, my men are trained to protect and serve. Let them do their jobs.”

You allowed yourself a calming sigh. For all his stiffness, he really was trying to be polite and you supposed you could tap into your inner politician for him.

“Please take a seat, Commander, I see no reason for you not to be comfortable while we hash this out.”

It had been nearly a month since he, the head of the Coruscant Guard, warned that senator about the threat on her life, and the way she made no changes to her daily routine was, frankly, starting to piss him off.

“What do you mean she’s still going to attend that rally!?” He hadn’t meant to yell, especially at the brother who had just gotten off a twelve hour watch shift outside Amidala’s residence. But damn it, was he annoyed.

At least the trooper didn’t seem shaken, “Sir, I expressed my concern, but she just reiterated that-”

“That ‘no one is going to scare me into hiding’ right right, so she’s said,” the Commander finished, having heard that same line several times from the woman- and her bossy little handmaiden, over the last month. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, mind wandering over the dozens of security weaknesses this rally was sure to have. Why was it so damn important that she make some speech at a gathering for- kriff, he didn’t even remember what the topic was. Not that it mattered in the end. He was quickly realizing that this willful senator was going to give him endless migraines.

“Perhaps, assigning more troops to her will help, sir?” the shinny offered, obviously trying his best to help.

“No, we’re already stretched thin, even if I hadn’t made up the schedules for the week.” At least he managed to sound less grumpy that time, it wasn’t the kid’s fault that his new job wasn’t what he’d expected. He thought he’d be out putting blaster holes in droids right now, freeing innocent civies from seppie control in a blaze of glory. Instead, he was bowing to the simpering pleas of the chancellor and corralling feral senators like cadets in their first shooting lesson.

Alright, maybe ‘feral’ was a little harsh for Amidala, and her bossy aid. Truthfully, despite their tendencies to brush off his concerns, they at least showed some respect to him and his men, more than a lot of the politicians in the building. Not that it was his place to care about said things in the first place, he had to follow orders no matter who treated him in whatever way.

He let out a sigh. “I’ll escort her personally,” he eventually concluded.

It was the best answer, he could put off reports or the couple of hours the rally took, and his skills were more finely honed than a majority of his men, meaning he’d more than enough.

“Dismissed, trooper, you’re off duty.”

An attentive ‘yes, sir!’ followed that, with the familiar sound of armored feet marching out his office door. The Commander rolled his shoulders and picked up his personal data pad to double check Amidala’s schedule. He’d have to let Thorn know he wasn’t going to be in during that time slot, and ask him to take on any in-house emergencies, but, other than that, it shouldn’t be an issue.

This was going to be an interesting day.

About two hours later, his shuttle was landing on the platform outside Amidala’s residence. Always vigilant, he was greeted by her personal guard dressed in traditional Naboo attire- how nat-borns felt safe wearing nothing but cloth, he’d never know.

“Commander,” Typho, the captain of her guard, greeted, “what brings you here this time?”

“I was informed of the Senator’s plans to attend that rally,” despite my warnings and advice, “I’m here as extra security,” since, apparently, I care more about her safety than she does!

Typho smirked, the skin near his roguish eye patch crinkling, “If you insist, though, if you have more important duties to tend to, I assure you, we have everything under control.”

“If my other duties were an issue, I wouldn't be here.” The words came out more flatly than he’d intended, but Typho didn’t seem bothered as he led him through the transparisteel doors into the apartment proper.

As always there were aids and household staff running about, along with that gold protocol droid who seemed to find something to fret and cry about at all hours, according to his men. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in the residence himself in the last month and, just when a particular handmaiden came striding out of the bedroom chamber with that cool collected expression, the memory of the previous time came flooding back.

Not many people stood their ground against a man like him, but you seemed to do it as if it were nothing. He had been demanding to see Amidala, to update her on his latest information regarding the mercenaries, but you had planted yourself between him and her door like a statue. He still remembered that blank stare you gave him, that told him everything and nothing at the same time- that somehow said a rude ‘take a hike, boy’ and a polite ‘the senator will answer your concerns at a later date’ simultaneously. It was only when he had made to shove past you a third time that you told him why he couldn’t go inside yet. Honestly, if you had just said that Amidala was undressed in the first place, he would have understood! He wasn’t that unfamiliar with nat-borns and their boundaries.

Standing in the same room again now, he felt his face get a little warm at the memory, especially when you approached him.

“Good evening, Commander,” you greeted in that smooth, even tone of yours. “Senator Amidala is getting ready for the evening’s events, and wants me to thank you for your offer of extra security.”

How did she- how would you- how could either of you possibly know why he was here already? He recovered quickly enough, clasping his hands behind his back. “Just, doing my job, ma’am.”

“Would you like anything while you wait? Something to drink perhaps? Or…a lengthy report on the event hall and its security weaknesses?”

He blinked behind his helmet, unable to tell if you were joking. Ever since that late night of debating security in Amidala’s office, you seemed a little less careful with your words when talking to him. Even if he still couldn’t always discern their actual meaning.

That was another thing about you that he noticed, his own inability to puzzle you out sometimes. One moment you were all bossy, demanding answers and actions out of him in a cooler tone than most of his COs, the next you were rather pleasant, all respectful nods and considerate questions. Like asking about his name. His name, you were the first nat-born to ever ask him if he even had one.

Even after these little encounters, he still couldn’t quite figure you out, and it was honestly starting to annoy him a little.

“I already did thorough research on the venue, so there’s no need for that,” was the answer he finally settled on.

There was that polite bow of your head again, “Of course, Commander.”

“Fox.”

He almost saw your face twitch in confusion as you looked back up at him. “Pardon?”

“You said that if I ever chose another name, to tell you. I’m Commander Fox now.”

There was the smallest little lift at the corner of your mouth. “Then, I am pleased to reacquaint myself with your name, Commander Fox.”

Fox wasn’t sure if that was some particular Naboo saying or not, but he didn’t have time to wonder as Amidala came striding out of the bedchamber. Fox snapped back to attention fast, and put everything except for protocol out of his thoughts as the evening went on.

All in all, the rally had gone… well.

Fox stood on the sidelines, scanning the perimeter, repeatedly checking the entry points, and when Amidala gave her speech he made sure no one got even an arm’s length from the podium. You and the other handmaidens were at the woman’s side the whole time, never wavering, always at attention, always watching. Seeing all four women together for the first time, and noting how they positioned themselves around the Senator, made him realize something.

When the handmaidens moved together, they used a formation that he and his men often did. A military formation. He’d recognize it anywhere, even if the bodies were swathed in velvety cloth instead of hard armor and the hands were tucked into sleeves instead of gripping blasters. Maybe he had more to learn about the training nat-borns went through on various planets.

Oh and…had he said the rally went well? There was an amendment to that: it went well until it all went to shit.

The meeting was over and Fox waved for the senator’s group to follow him through the back room of the venue, to where the transport was waiting outside. His eyes were keen, as always, watching, searching, but even when he didn’t spot anything, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

His fingers were just about to open the door to the outside landing pad, when your voice called out behind him. He turned and saw your brows pinched together as you pressed your finger to your ear.

“I’m not getting a response from our driver,” you said, “I think somethi-”

He saw your eyes go wide in shock before he registered the door sliding open behind him. Fox’s body was turning on instinct, but he thought he saw a flash of silver being pulled from the velvet of your sleeve before he came face to face with a thug lifting a rifle.

Hands went to his pistols a second before the goon fired, but it was still too slow- until the thug got hit square in the chest from shot fired somewhere behind Fox. That left the Commander free to fire at the two others who where closing in on the door. The second they fell he slammed his elbow on the control panel, eyes darting across the platform to assess, even as the door slid shut.

Another punch with his hand and the door resealed itself, but it wouldn’t hold them for long.

“I counted five,” there was your voice again, as you crouched opposite him of the entrance, holding a elegant silver blaster at the ready, “five, besides the ones we already stunned.”

“Obviously they thought they could overwhelm us with numbers instead of skill,” he heard Amidala say, completely surrounded by her guards and other handmaidens, all with blasters in hand.

“This door won’t hold them for long,” Fox could already hear shouts and feet closing in.

That’s when he saw a mischievous kind of determination glimmer in your eyes. “Commander, if they want to trap themselves on that small platform while we hold a choke point, I say: let them.”

Despite himself, Fox smirked behind his helmet. He liked the way you thought.

“We’ll watch your back,” Typho offered, signaling his own guards to cover the only other door in the room.

“I take the left, you right?” you asked, face set, ready.

Fox gave you a second’s long look, and nodded, before he opened the door.

The moment it hissed open there was chaos. Thankfully, the idiots on the other side couldn’t aim worth a shit. Fox had to trust that you could cover the left, which was, admittedly, not easy for him, but you had been quick enough to shoot the first gunman over his shoulder, and that gave him a little confidence.

Instead, Fox made himself focus on the two who had been trying to get the door open, their closeness making them easy pickings. Later, he might actually laugh at the sheer lack of skill and coordination the group had. He couldn't laugh, though, idiots with guns were their own kind of dangerous and he shouldn't underestimate that.

“Fox, straight ahead!” he heard you shout over the blasterfire, just as his second target fell.

He looked up and saw a mountain sized lassat, charging at the door with a riot shield in hand, taking all their blaster shot. With barely enough time to dive out of the way, Fox didn’t even see that you had jumped up to grab a shelving unit beside the door.

Your timing was perfect.

The lassat had just barely cleared the door as you pulled on the shelf and sent it slamming into his side, the shield falling useless from his grasp. It wasn’t quite enough to fell the large man, though, and Fox- as well as the other handmaidens in the room, opened fire as the enemy rounded on you with a shout. You ducked under his large fist as the first volley of stun bolts hit him.

By Fox’s count, it took 17 shots to bring him down, and when he fell it was with a resounding thud.

Everyone held their breath for a moment, heart beat thudding in his ears. Not another shot sounded, even as you moved to sweep the doorway one last time. When you confirmed that all was clear, the room breathed again.

Fox was just about to clamber to his feet, when you walked up and extended your hand. “Are you alright, Commander?”

He grunted in reply, taking your offered hand, and felt a jolt of surprise when you hauled him up with almost no effort. A quick scan of your body assured him that you hadn’t been hit, so he turned to the room at large.

“Is everyone else alright?” Fox asked, just as he heard sirens closing in.

“We’re fine,” Amidala announced with pride, “it takes far more than a few would-be bandits to shake us, Fox.”

“Our driver was finally able to reach us,” Typho interjected, “she managed to escape their ambush and call for back up.”

That explained the sirens. Fox pulled out the wrist binders from his belt pouch and knelt to cuff the lassat. He would have to give his report to the others when they landed, but, before they did, he had one other duty to tend to.

He straightened up, standing practically chest to chest with you as you finally relaxed and lowered your blaster. Fox liked your fire, and hadn’t misplaced his trust when he let you help him. Honestly, if today was any indicator, he’d be proud to fight beside you any day. But, rules were rules.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” his hand shot out to snatch your blaster before you could react, “but you’re in violation of code 187-24.”

“E-excuse me?!”

Fox had never seen a strong emotion on your face to date, so the look of completely anger and incredulity that crossed your face almost made him laugh.

He pushed the thought away as he waved his hands at the other handmaidens, “Neither you, or any of them are registered as personal guards in our records. Under the new Coruscant Guard Regulations, aids are not permitted to carry firearms. Now, given the newness of the codes, I can let all of you off with a warning, but this is a serious violation and further investigation may be needed.”

“Now wait just a moment, Commander!” Amidala said through her teeth as she rushed forward.

Quite a bit of squabbling now mixed with the sounds of sirens, all of it giving Fox a headache. He sighed through he helmet, honestly, he was just doing his job.

And, it was only because he was nice that he wasn’t forcing you into cuffs right there. But no one thought of that while he cleaned up this mess- the mess that also could have been avoid, had everyone just listened to him in the first place!

No one ever listened to Fox.

You should definitely be thanking him for not arresting you.

Tag list: @blueink-bluesoul @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @lightwise

#commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #so nervous about this and IDK why #Fox has been hard to write but I'm nervous about how i did!#clone x reader #clone wars reader insert #star wars reader insert #series: the handmaiden's fox #deeja writes

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marymunchkiin · 1 year

Text

"𝗥𝗲𝘅, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲, 𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸, 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻-"

"𝗡𝗼, 𝗦𝗲𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿. 𝗪𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗮 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲.

𝙒𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩."

-----

My dumbass went and binged on some Rex x Reader fanfics and read a few about Senator x Bodyguard Trooper on AO3 (because I'm a sucker for the forbidden love trope), so I drew my TCW OC Verata Dallafor as a Republic senator and Rex as her trooper escort.

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starrylothcat · 8 months

Note

Hey hey! Love your writing!

I wanted to ask for some nsfw headcannons for Wolffe, Cody, and Rex. Where their F!Jedi reader keeps force projecting different sex scenes of them together during a briefing; with the boys trying to keep it together during the briefing and their reactions/what they say to her after.

I also just wanted to say, that you are one my favorite TCW/TBB writers on Tumblr!

Distractions - NSFW Headcanons with Cody, Wolffe, and Rex

Summary: You decide to spice up a pre-mission briefing meeting by projecting naughty visions to your clone, knowing you’ll pay for it later.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Absolute filth. Smut. No real plot. Dom vibes from Wolffe and Cody, slightly rough handling but everything consensual. Fingering, oral, PiV sex. Reader a Jedi, not described in detail.

Pairings: Cody x Fem!JediReader, Wolffe x Fem!JediReader, Rex x Fem!JediReader

WC: Around 2,000 total (bullet points)

A/N: Let me tell you, the squeal I squealed when I got this ask! Thank you for this filthy request, anon! And thank you for your even kinder comment, I was having some self-doubt in my writing lately and I’m glad that you are enjoying my silly little stories, it means a lot to me and I love writing for y’all!

This is pure smutty goodness below the cut, I hope it’s what you envisioned. I had fun writing this for sure! I kinda got carried away with Rex, oops. Enjoy! 💛

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

💛 Cody 💛

He is a tough man to crack.

He’s always the Marshal Commander, taking his duties seriously on and off the battlefield.

You started innocently, visions of you kissing up and down his torso, slowly taking off his armor and blacks, fondling his cock, whispering how good of a girl you’ve been and that you’re ready to please your Commander in any way.

Cody didn’t even look at you, though you saw his hand twitch slightly at his side.

You smiled to yourself, projecting a more enticing scene into his mind.

This time, you were sucking his cock, his gloved hand wrapped in your hair, mumbling how amazing your lips felt around him, how much he was going to reward you later for being so good to him.

Still, nothing. Though his jaw seemed tense as he listened to Obi-Wan go over battle plans.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game, an exceedingly dangerous game, one that you will be thouroughly punished for later.

The thought shot a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, upping the ante again, needing him to crack.

The next image was of you, laying on his bunk, pleasuring yourself, two fingers deep inside your sopping pussy, your other hand pinching and tweaking your nipples writhing and moaning in pleasure, getting off completely fine without his assistance.

Since my Commander can’t be bothered to help me, I have to take matters into my own hands…

You held that teasing, lewd image in his mind, and you could almost feel the blade of his stare pierce straight through you as he finally made eye contact across the room.

It was a simple gesture that said so much, and you knew you had him.

After the meeting, you went straight to your personal quarters, knowing he wouldn’t be too far behind.

As your door hissed closed behind you, it was open again, and Cody had you pinned to a nearby wall so fast you barely had time to register what was happening.

Cody was deadly silent as he crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue clashing as his armored body pressed into your robed one.

You smirked against his lips as he pulled away for air, your lungs burning. “Cody-“

Cody growled as he flipped you around, your face pressed up agains the wall, tugging down your robes, revealing your ass to him and your glistening pussy.

He gave your ass a solid smack, his lips against your ear, heavy and commanding.

“You’re not getting away with this.”

You sighed in both pain and pleasure, hearing the clunk of his codpiece hitting the floor, his fingers gripping your ass hard as he rubbed his rigid cock at your entrance.

“Is this what you wanted?” He husked, “to be filled by your Commander? To beg for this cock? Oh, mesh’la, you’ll be begging.”

You let out a whine as he teased your dripping entrance with his cockhead, already thinking you maybe took it a little too far with your visions, knowing he was a man true to his word.

It was too late now.

“Cody, please, I need-“

Smack! Another slap to your ass, his other hand wandering between your folds.

“Only good, obedient girls get this cock. After that stunt in the comm room, you have a lot to make up for.“

He swiped a finger over your clit, causing you to cry out, your body twitching, unable to move much between the wall and his solid form behind you.

He roughly rubbed your clit, pushing two fingers into your entrance, immediately finding the spongy spot that made you see stars.

“You’re soaking, mesh’la, so needy for me.”

You could feel your release coming quickly, choking out his name as his other hand groped at your breast.

Cody knew you were close, feeling you tighten around him, your high pitched moans giving you away.

Cody removed his fingers right as you were about to reach your peak.

You whimpered, trying to lean back against him, desperate for your release, for anything.

Cody spun you around again, pressing his gloved fingers soaked with your juice to your lips.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you cum. You haven’t proved yourself to me, though. Now be a good girl, and clean me up.”

You licked his gloved fingers clean, tasting yourself and giving him a little show of what you could do with your tongue, if you let him.

Cody’s eyes darkened, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a line of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.

“On your knees, mesh’la. Like I said, you have a lot to make up for.”

🖤 Wolffe 🖤

The image you projected was absolutely filthy.

Your hands were pinned behind your back by his large hand, the other pressing between your shoulder blades keeping you down on the bed as he pounded into you from behind.

You were shamelessly moaning his name like a dirty Holofilm star, crying out for him to go harder, faster.

You stood at attention, casually glancing at him, noticing a bead of sweat forming at Wolffe’s temple.

You could sense he was trying his best not to leap over the holomap and ravage you in front of everyone.

You decided he had enough of the first fantasy, briefly closed your eyes, projecting another scene into his mind.

You were on your knees in front of him, your mouth open as he shoots ropes of cum all over your face, greedily lapping it up, kissing up and down his still-hard cock, begging for more.

Wolffe’s eyes flashed at you, his cybernetic eye and scar making him look more dangerous than usual, his eyes narrowing.

Got him.

You were enjoying watching him keep it together, a vein bulging at his forehead, his neck tense as he stood at attention, listening to Master Koon’s hologram.

You knew you were in for it after the meeting.

That was the entire point.

Wolffe was practically kicking down the door to your personal quarters after the meeting, pinning you to your bed, his mouth ravaging yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck, hard.

He had your wrists held above your head with one hand, his grip like iron.

There was no escape.

“What was that?” He growled as he continued the assault on your neck, his hand tightening even more around your wrists that were wiggling to get free.

You whined as his hand that was digging into your waist moved under your robes, up toward your breasts.

“Answer me, mesh’la. Or you won’t get what you so obviously want.”

His gloved touch left a trail of fire on your skin, sending goosebumps across your body and a jolt of arousal straight to your pussy, your panties wet at the anticipation.

“You looked bored during the meeting.” You smirked at up at him, breathy pants leaving you as he touched you. “Thought you could use some entertainment.”

Wolffe’s gaze darkened at your teasing tone, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Without warning, he ripped open the front of your robes, yanking down your breast band.

You yelped as he attacked your breasts with this lips and teeth, leaving more marks for him to gently kiss over later when he was through with you.

“Do you want my cum, mesh’la? Is that what you want?” Wolffe grunted against your flushed skin as he switched to your other breast.

You gasped a yes, his teeth expertly nipping and tugging at your sensitive bud.

You writhed, your wrists still restrained above your head by his strong hand.

“I’ll fill your mouth to the brim, and you’ll swallow every drop, isn’t that right you filthy girl?”

You nodded, almost delirious just at his mouth on your nipples. He hadn’t even really started touching you yet.

“And then I’ll fill that pretty pussy of yours, but only if you behave. Will you behave for me?”

“Y-yes!” Your voice cracked, needing him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes…?” He stopped, his predatory gaze locking on you.

“Yes…Commander.”

“Good girl.”

Wolffe continued ravaging your breasts, your mewls filling the room.

“Please, I want your cock inside me, I want you to cum so deep inside me, Wolf-Commander. I’ll be good, I promise…”

Wolffe released your wrists, your hands finally free.

“You haven’t been good though, you knew that the second you invaded my mind with those visions.”

Wolffe sat up, and began removing his armor. You forgot it was even still on.

“I’ll make sure you’re properly punished for such distractions, and then I’ll decide when you’re ready for my cock.”

You shivered at his promise as he climbed over you, just in his blacks, the outline of his rigid cock straining against the fabric.

“I dunno, Commander. You seem to be all bark and no bite.” You teased, knowing you were getting yourself into even more trouble.

A dark chuckle reverberated in his chest, ripping your pants and panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

Wolffe grasped your thighs, biting down into the soft flesh of your inner leg, earning a loud yelp from you as his tongue eased the first of many marks he will leave on your body.

“Be careful what you wish for, mesh’la.”

💙 Rex 💙

You had him sweating and fidgeting as Rex tried to keep a straight face in the briefing room.

Rex was attempting to listen to the mission report, but your vision in his mind was proving to be quite the distraction.

You were on his face, his hands grasping your thighs as he feasted on your pussy from below.

“Rex, oh kriff, more, please, I need your big cock, I want you to ruin me.”

Rex gave you a desperate look from across the room, slightly shaking his head.

You ignored his pleading glance, changing the vision.

Now, you were splayed out on his desk in his private Captain’s quarters, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you, your back arching as you rubbed your clit, cumming over and over again around him.

His desk was dripping with your juices, your breasts bouncing almost comically as you cried out his name, hamming up the vision to see Rex squirm.

Rex suddenly coughed, everyone in the room looking at him momentarily.

You rocked on your heels, hands behind your back, pretending to listen as the pre-mission brief continued, completely innocent.

Finally, the meeting ended.

You exited the room, Rex quickly walking past you.

“My office. Now.” He hissed quietly, before being called over by Anakin to discuss further plans.

When Rex opened the door to his office, you were sitting at his desk, waiting for him.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, General.” Rex strode up to you, placing his hands on his desk, leaning over toward you.

You loved it when he used his serious Captain voice on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”

“You know.” His voice dropped an octave, husky and gruff, just how you liked it.

“You’ll have to elaborate. I can’t read minds.”

Rex stood up straight, his expression unreadable. You continued to sit in his chair as he walked around the desk and over to you.

Rex leaned down again, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, caging you in.

For a moment, you thought he was actually upset with you. You felt guilty, maybe you did take it too far in the meeting.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Rex spoke first.

“I think you can, mesh’la. How else would you know those visions are what I think about doing to you every waking moment?”

His lips were hovering centimeters from yours, a quiet gasp leaving your lips, your body quivering at his statement.

Oh, he liked it.

His breath fanned over your face, feeling your panties dampen, his usual soft eyes glazed over with lust.

You leaned forward to close the small distance, wanting to taste him, but he pulled away, avoiding your kiss.

“Mmm, mesh’la. You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” Rex purred in your ear, his gloved hand snaking up your neck, tilting your head to the side.

He placed a hot kiss right below your ear, lazily licking your neck.

“Rex…” you sighed, grasping at his shoulder pads, his teeth grazing your skin, his lips pressing to the side of your jaw.

“You want something from me?” He removed himself from you, kneeling between your legs.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. I could write you up for what you did back there.”

Rex hooked his fingers under your pants, pulling them down your legs. You lifted your ass, helping him remove your lower clothes.

“Yeah? What would the report say?” You shuddered as Rex began lavishing your bare thighs, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling as he slowly made his way up to your aching apex.

You could feel Rex smirk against your skin.

“My General coercing me into questionable situations. Inappropriate use of Jedi abilities.”

Rex stopped right at your core, aching and throbbing for him. You could feel his breath on your pussy, desperate now for any friction.

You let out a frustrated whine as Rex kissed your inner thigh, ignoring where you needed him most.

“Rex…”

“Patience, mesh’la. You need a lesson in discipline, it seems.”

Rex brushed his nose against your clit, your hips instinctually bucking up toward him, your hands grasping at his buzzed hair.

You groaned impatiently as he gently kissed your labia, touching you everywhere but your clit.

“You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” He rumbled into your core, a finger now teasing your entrance.

You panted, knowing you asked for this, that you deserved this, but you could still protest to his teasing.

“Captain, please…” You begged, shifting your hips, hoping he would press his finger knuckle deep inside you.

Rex continued to just tease your entrance with his finger tip, slowly circling, not quite pressing all the way inside.

“Kriff, you’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? Do you want to cum over and over again on my cock?”

You nodded, heavy pants the only sound able to leave your lips as he finally pressed his finger inside.

“Use your words, is that what you want?”

Rex’s lips were brushing over your clit, the teasing almost too much.

“Y-yes! Please, Rex, I need you inside me!” Your words came out as a garbled cry as he suddenly sucked on your clit, adding a second finger to your pussy, stretching you so deliciously you thought you might cry, pleasure shooting up your spine.

And his cock wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’ll get my cock, mesh’la, don’t worry. But first, I want you to cum just like this.” Rex added a third finger, his tongue and lips circling your clit, your vision white from the pleasure as you squirmed and writhed in his chair, totally at his mercy, your orgasm building quickly.

You came apart on his fingers, shaking and sobbing his name, pleasure coursing through you as Rex’s fingers and mouth worked you through your first orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Rex’s pupils were blown with desire, licking his lips as he cleaned you up, his baritone voice was laden with desire, his control now gone.

You barely had time to come down from you high as Rex easily lifted you onto his desk, removing his codpiece in a flash, pulling down his blacks far enough for his flushed, dripping cock to spring free.

“And you’re going to cum again, and again, and again. Are you ready, mesh’la? This is what you asked for.”

Your answer was a cry of his name, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed into you, starting a devastating pace, fucking you exactly like you showed him in your vision.

Your last coherent thought before being so thoroughly fucked and blissed out by your Captain was that you should definitely tease him like this more often.

Tag list: @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @dreamie411 @aconstructofamind @coraex @multi-fan-dom-madness @freesia-writes @kashasenpai @sunshinesdaydream @din-miller @clonemedickix @wizardofrozz @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @blueink-bluesoul @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @sleepingsun501 @sunshinesdaydream

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qvnthesia · 21 days

Text

Another You (.02)

an anakin skywalker/jedi consular!reader fic set during the clone wars

the pitch: best friends with anakin since he had joined the jedi order, you hadn’t expected to catch feelings for him, not that hard, at least. his intentions were clear — his heart already enraptured by the nubian senator, leaving you to ruminate about the prospect of letting go of not just him, but maybe everything. until another anakin shows up, and your — your universe’s anakin starts behaving strangely.

A/N: happy birthday, @kaizsche! i hope you enjoy this update!! a note to all readers — there’s no y/n here, the reader’s nickname for the fic is sky. happy reading!

part two— you're not helping.

word count: 7,042

part one | two (here) | ....

Simply put, Aayla Secura was enjoying this. Restraining herself with absolute failure from bursting into fits of laughter, Aayla watched as even the most experienced of Jedi masters drop their caf or just stare with their jaws dropped, t h u n d e r s t r u c k, at Anakin and his double — the long-haired Anakin — walking side-by-side with Master Kenobi being the only one who separated Anakin from thoroughly sizing up his copy, who simply viewed his new-found sights with a twinkling gaze and an even more unbothered attitude.

“Is it just me—” Aayla leans next to your figure, her eyes fixated on the live footage from the Jedi Temple’s security feed. “—or is our new guest having a wind machine around him? Because you humans could take some hair care tips from him.”

You scowl, elbows propped up on the desk, as you watch the footage behind your intertwined fingers held together as tightly as your frown.

“Relax, Sky,” Aayla props an elbow on your stiff shoulder, “He gives off a good vibe. And plus, he’s definitely more attractive than—”

“Aayla!”

The agile Twi’lek proves herself as one of the best the Jedi Order has to offer as she flicks on the live footage faster than your attempts to take it away from her.

“Mon amie, this is literally out of a holo drama!” she giggles, switching off the footage under your sharp gaze. “It’s a sign from the Force itself to take your leap and get your man, or in this case, one version of the man!”

“Aayla, he belongs to another universe—”

“And you’re saying you haven’t been attracted to him?”

You freeze, and Aayla smiles.

Twi’leks weren’t humans, but were sure as hell kriffing good with their senses, so Aayla knew you were lying, and how much she was going to enjoy the day ahead.

Maker, why did I go for this job?

You silenced your mind — there’s a member of the kriffing Jedi Council in the same room as you and you’d feel much more comfortable knowing Master Kenobi had a visual on his enemies rather than the six hundred scenarios of you and Anakin in your mind.

Instead, you focused on your datapad, tapping on six different squares as Anakin answered your questions.

“—Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, aged twenty-one Galactic Standard. Commanding officer of the Five Hundred and First Legion—”

“Currently on leave,” Master Kenobi remarked, stroking his beard.

“Yeah, but still, Obi-Wan, come on—”

“You’re really Anakin?”

You perked up at Ahsoka’s voice, who munched on a ronto wrap while perched on one of the desks.

“Yes,” the long-haired Anakin hummed. You’ve lost count at how many times Ahsoka has asked the question, and you’re pretty sure Master Kenobi, Rex and Cody have the same question swimming their head since yesterday. It’s only the constant patience that has persevered through the Order’s new guest that sets a guilty fire ablaze within your body — and it’s definitely from the way his voice never even fluctuates, just stays the smooth baritone, lower than the usual. It’s the same tone that your Anakin’s voice always has when he woke up to you working again late in the night, or he just strolled into your quarters wearing nothing but shorts and pressed himself against your back, his toned frame somehow slotting perfectly against your edges.

“But…” she tilted her head, her lekku twitching. “You look so mature.”

“Snips!” barked Anakin, shooting a sharp scowl toward Master Kenobi’s hacking laughter. Ahsoka shrugged, stuffing herself with more of her ronto wrap. Anakin’s long-haired copy softly pressed his twitching lips together. He caught your lingering gaze, and spread his lips into a smile, one that crinkled the edges of his twinkling eyes.

“How long is this going to take again?”

You snapped to a stiff, attentive posture as Anakin cleared his throat.

Master Kenobi sighed again. “Anakin, you must be patient—”

“—farmboy here smells like weed—”

“Anakin!”

“He’s not wrong.”

Anakin and Master Kenobi’s bickering ceases.

“What do you mean?”

He turns to you, and you internally slap yourself for suddenly becoming his center of attention. Not such a bad idea, but then—

“Are you…” Master Kenobi finds his voice again, bringing you back to the room again. “Are you not a Jedi, Anakin?”

There’s a slight crack in Master Kenobi’s voice, one that propels Ahsoka to stand next to him. The long-haired Anakin surveys the both of them, eyes softly squinted deep in thought, possibly pondering on how to break this brand new piece of information to a suddenly very fragile-looking old man and a dispirited young teenager.

The long-haired Anakin exhales. “I’m Anakin Skywalker, aged twenty-one Galactic Standard. I left the Jedi Order after I turned nineteen, and I’m a farmer—well, part-time mechanic, on Naboo.”

Your eyes widen, exchanging a surprised glance with Aayla.

“Master Kenobi, are you sure none of us are high?”

“Padawan,” chastised the Jedi, his shock secured tightly behind his shields. “I apologise, Anakin—I mean—”

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan.”

The long-haired Anakin waved his hands, and Obi-Wan visibly stiffens at the use of his name by a version of Anakin he should know but he doesn’t.

“You did train me, but I…” he scratched the back of his head, showing all teeth with a gentle, sheepish smile. “Things happened, and I made the choice to leave.”

You swore he looked at you; you were always looking at Anakin for some maker-forsaken reason or the other.

“And the war?”

Anakin turns to Cody and Rex, their military etiquette all thrown out the window.

“What war?”

The floor practically shifts with a lurch from the Force.

“You… you don’t have a war? The Clone Wars?”

He turns to you, and the world melts away as you look up at him, datapad clutched to your chest as a shield from him and from your simmering desperation.

The long-haired Anakin — you should definitely give him a name aside from his long hair — has a piercing gaze, one your Anakin looked at you everytime you looked up at him, your chin pressed to his chest, his arms around your waist as his nose crinkled with every laugh shared between you two about the stupidity of the Separtists’ battle droids.

“From all that I’ve been privy to," he swallows, his sharp apple jutting out even more prominently that it did. “The galaxy isn’t having the, uh, Clone Wars. We do have clones, but they work with the Jedi and provide humanitarian aid.”

“Captain Rex and Commander Cody work under Obi-Wan, who took on a young Togruta as his new padawan after I left,” he turns once again to Ahsoka, smiling. “I’m not General Skywalker, I’m just… Anakin.”

You blink, unable to process him. A part of you pushes that there’s a complete liar standing before you, a shapeshifter sent here to trick the Republic and distract the Consular who’s coincidentally working to counter their latest planet-killing superweapon. But the Anakin before you is as real as yours. He’s had a different life that you can’t help but wonder if you’re there—

“Hypothetically speaking—” coughs Rex. “Can I sign up for multiversal travel?”

“Rex!”

“I don’t like this.”

“More than sand?”

Anakin rolls his eyes at Padmé, who gives him a laugh as she continues to type her latest proposal behind her desk.

His lithe legs propped upon the corner of her desk, Anakin crosses his arms together, replaying the exact moment where he felt your Force signature spring alive when his double looked at you.

He’d never elicited a similar reaction from you when he was there. All those moments holding you close, regaling you in his tales until you succumbed to sleep, feeling your heart against his and wishing it were just like this for eternity. It was torture having to stay away from you, to be called time and again to this siege and that battle when all he wanted was to wake up next to you and live the life that other people did when they loved each other in a way he had loved you since the two of you were sixteen.

He even felt embarrassed to voice this in front of the Chancellor, who had suspiciously kept on pestering him to great lengths to enquire about the reason for his distraction. Clearly, he’d been sloppy — even Obi-Wan had managed to pick up his emotions in the heat of the battle. He’d decided to stay away from the Temple, show his ‘interest’ in politics so that such a slip wouldn’t occur again though, that your position as a Jedi wouldn’t be compromised by his misery. Though, he thinks to himself, the emergence of his double from another dimension spelled trouble for him in both Basic and Huttese.

Damn father, he grumbled to himself.

“If you keep having that stupid, angry look on your face, I’m afraid Sabé would be more than happy to throw you out of my office.”

Anakin sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s just—” he stood up from his seat, pacing. “She likes him more! That peaceful, farming version of me over… me.”

Padmé turned her attention away from the blue screen, sincere pity softly twisting her lips.

“And you’re here, out of all places.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m just saying,” she shrugged, her smile growing wider. “It’s a sign.”

Anakin hesitated, his stomach roiling with anxiety.

“Are you sure I should—?”

“If you don’t, I will.”

Anakin laughs. Hope blooming bright in his chest, he gives his childhood friend a grateful nod, and races out of the office.

Having receiving enough complaints about ‘seeing double’ of a certain Anakin Skywalker, Master Yoda explicitly commanded you to serve as the long-haired Anakin’s tour guide for the day, remarking a day away from the Temple ought to make him comfortable in his new universe — and reduce Master Windu’s migraines. Since you concomittantly had to visit the Senate Archives for business, you decided your new guest would accompany you to the prompt excursion to the laughing stock that was the Galaxy’s governing body.

Both of you had been loaned a speeder by the Jedi Council, to which the long-haired Anakin simply pointed a slender finger to a sleek, open-roofed speeder glinting under the spotlight of Coruscant’s artificial weather.

"That looks better, wouldn’t you think?” he grinned.

Maker, let the Force lend its might to you today to calm your fluttering heart. He wasn’t just glowing with happiness, you knew very well he was playing with you, and you’d be a fool to deny it wasn’t a good look on him.

So, with a begrudging sigh, you agreed, and headed straight for Dex’s Diner — an establishment he seemed quite familiar with.

“Ani!” Dex roared proudly, sweeping you and him in a hug before you even had a chance to look around for empty seats. “Look at how you’ve grown,” he said appraisingly as he drew back, “And what’s with the hair, eh? All dressed up for a date?”

“This—no—” you fervently shook your head, cheeks ablaze. “No, this isn’t a date—”

You glared pointedly at the long-haired Anakin — Ani — who softly cocked his brow. He seemed to decide with himself for a moment, and then spread his lips in a cocksure grin, the exact same your Anakin had in those holo-videos labelled ‘Hero with No Fear’ racking up views all over the galaxy.

“Last time I remember—”

He snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you next to his toned frame.

“—I did get a yes.”

“That was fun.”

Your disagreements lose to the quick beat of your heart, and you stab the scoopful of ice cream in your hands as you walk through the senate hallways. Leaving aside the fact that the trip to the archives was a monumental failure as you’d expected, you’d come as close as falling to the dark side to melt into a pool of a miserable puddle of your love and embarrassment.

“You’ll figure it out.”

You look up at him, realising the two of you have come to a stop in the middle of your footsteps.

“Whatever the enemy is planning, I’m sure you’ll foil their plans. I know it.”

He smiles, licking the ice cream off the corner of his lips and jutting the spoon in the air as if it were his lightsaber.

The confidence in his voice makes you wonder if he knew you. Not you, but a version of you in his universe.

What were you to this version of Anakin? Were you what Anakin was in your universe? The ‘Heroine with No Fear,’ or ‘The Jedi with No Fear,’ even if there was no war in his galaxy. Were you an acclaimed Jedi or a nobody from the backwater planet you belonged to?

Were you even someone he liked? With the manner you currently struggled to contain the depth of admiration you harboured for your Anakin, being lovers seemed out of the question. Were you at least his friend? Or, you gulped to yourself as your heart sunk low, were you dead?

“Consular Jedi.”

Your voice perked up at the entourage making way towards you, led by—

“Chancellor Palpatine!”

You offered the old man a short bow, which he returned to you with an amicable smile. His eyes roved over—

“Anakin, my dear boy,” his visage extended over to Ani; he let out a chuckle. “I must have caught you by surprise, son.”

You looked over to Ani, who had dropped his ice cream and the little wooden spoon on the floor, the hem of the Chancellor’s robes trailing with tiny chocolate chips.

He looked like a deer caught in the spotlight, except only a fool would describe him as a prey. No, he looked like the commander that Anakin always had been — alert, sharp, observant, and most of all, protective of his loved ones and his duty.

“Are you alright, my boy?”

The Chancellor’s eyes darted between the two of you, and you cleared your throat, wrapping your arm around Ani’s right one, shielding it entirely by your billowing robes.

“We were just coming back from the archives, Chancellor,” you cleared your throat. Feeling Ani tighten his grip around your arm, you continued. “Anakin thought to offer an extra set of hands in my search for a solution to the Separatists’ rumoured advantage.”

“Ah, of course,” the man nodded, interwining his bony fingers one over the other hand. “I must not hinder you, I suppose—Anakin, my boy, do come for a visit, will you? You seem to be avoiding me, though I now understand why.”

He shot a fatherly wink at Ani, who only seemed to stiffen even further, his arms balling into tight, iron-rod fists.

“Of course,” Ani found his voice, steel replacing his usual gentleness. “It was lovely meeting you but I’m afraid we must be on our way—”

Before you could even hear the old man’s professional toodle-oo, Ani simply tugged you by your arm and walked past the entourage, his long strides taking you to the far end of the Senate’s circular hallways within a blink of your eye. Reaching a destination guarateeing privacy, he looked around.

“Anakin, what—WHOA!”

You let out a grunt as your back slammed against the durasteel walls. He looks down at you, an apology flashing in his eyes, but the steel in his voice stops your protests.

“What the kark is that man doing here?”

Your eyebrows shoot up into your forehead, “What?”

You look at him through the Force; his sun is now an eclipse, shadowed by the foreboding storm and thunder.

“Anakin,” you gulp softly, gathering your courage, “He’s the Supreme Chancellor, what—what are you—”

You pause, your mind backpedalling to the events in your office.

“Things happened, and I made the choice to leave.”

He shifts in his feet just as your eyes widen.

“Sky.”

His arms wrap around your trembling figure, but you never leave his gaze.

“Sky, listen to me, it’s okay—”

“Why…” you cut in, failing to sound calm. “Why did you leave the Order?”

“Because I fulfilled my destiny.”

The storm within him dissolves with a wave of the seas within him. Your glare demands answers; his chest puts strain on the fibres of his beige shirt as he exhales sharply.

"I discovered the Sith that had been plaguing the Jedi and the Republic. It was…”

He lets out a bitter chuckle, the corners of his lips downturned.

“It was so ingenious, the way he had been doing it. Getting close to me ever since I was a child, preying on my fears, my insecurities. Deluding me into thinking I was going to be alone forever simply because I was different than the others, that I was born of no father and only a loving mother, that I was a child of the Force itself and as such, the Jedi viewed me as a threat.”

“But what he hadn’t seen coming, what even I hadn’t expected to gain was that I began to have people on my side. People who trained me and taught me that the Dark is never the option to take, because it takes and it takes from you and leaves you wanting more, it leaves you empty, as a shell of who you were. It leaves you alone and no one to go to. And I had people… people who pulled me back—”

He meets your gaze, blown open and vulnerable.

“—people who made me see reason, that my mind was being tipped in a direction that was not of my own making, but of the Sith who I had allowed to poison my mind since I was a child. Sky…”

He intakes a sharp breath.

“I am the Chosen One just as your Anakin is. And I did it. I fulfilled my destiny and stopped the return of the Sith.”

Ani holds your hands, pressing your palm to his chest. A tremor passes through your body, and he steadies your figure, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Please, you must believe me. I can sense you care deeply for my variant in this universe, and he is in grave danger, Sky.”

Your mind flashes back to one of Master Yoda’s classes, where he had droned in his wise way how the Force made itself known to warn its believers that life itself was in grave danger; it was a warning, a shadow, an event, something or the other that shook the defenders into of their senses and prompted them to act for the betterment of the survival of the Galaxy — and for your own good.

You had felt the Force the first time when Master Windu had arrived to your village years ago, offering his hand to enter the world of the Jedi. The Force had given a warm nudge for you to take his hand and take the chance; you had taken it.

You had felt the Force the second time when you met Anakin Skywalker, nine years old, young and shy, and terribly homesick for the embrace of his mother’s arms. The Force had giggled, and you had decided, fate or not, that you would bring a smile to his forlorn face.

You had felt the Force the third time when you were on Geonosis, standing the arena with your master, saber ignited as Anakin let out a joyous cheer, joining you back-to-back as you both tore through droid after droid in the relentless carnage. The Force, triumphant, had melded the two of you as one machine, as one competently-built Corellian freighter tearing apart the enemy.

The present moment is when you feel the Force again, screaming. You see death and blood, corpses of younglings and clone soldiers strewn on the floors of the Jedi Temple. But Anakin’s there, and you see hope, you see a future with laughing children and the galaxy, alive than you’ve ever felt it to be.

The Force holds its breath, and despite what the Jedi Code said, you’ve never chosen to ignore life.

You steel yourself and look up at him, determined.

“I believe you.”

His gaze widens, and the temperature around you shoots up, charged.

But it isn’t coming from the Anakin front of you, rather from a few feet away from the both of you.

You meet the dark look on your Anakin’s face, his armor glinting in the pale, sterile Coruscanti sunlight.

You haven’t even blinked, but he’s next to you in mere six steps, Ani’s hurling toward the ground, and you’re in Anakin’s arms, warm, cold, safe and scared.

“Anakin.”

He looks down at you, and he melts.

“It’s okay, he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

You turn to Ani, who’s now on his feet, his stance as same as your Anakin.

“We need to leave,” he states to his armoured copy, stark.

“He’s right,” you turn back to Anakin, “We’re in danger, Anakin, the Chancellor is the Sith—”

“What?!”

He recoils, looking back and forth between him and you.

“Sky, he’s messing with you, don’t listen to him—”

“Are you serious?” scoffs Ani, balling his hands into tight fists.

“You’re the one to talk—”

The sky suddenly turns dark, lights blinking awake in the buildings outside. Clouds fog the tallest skyscrapers, crackling with blue lightning.

The floor beneath you trembles, and you look at the end of the hallway.

There’s a man in a dark robe that you could’ve mistaken for a statue. But his eyes are a burning yellow that remind you of the flames of your Master’s funeral pyre.

The hooded figure bristles, and you can feel his sickly smile on your skin, feel the two Anakins next to you tense as the cold finally settles on their shoulders.

The name shouldn’t click in your head, but it does.

“Sidious.”

Silence rings in your ears.

“On three,” whispers Ani.

His fingers grasp yours and, from the corner of your eyes, Anakin holds your left hand as delicate his shock and anger can allow his metal arm to be.

“One, two—”

You take toward the window.

“—three.”

CRASH !

The air r i p s with a violent blue and purple, and glass tears at your clothes as the air whips at your face and you freefall against the cold steel and stabbing rain.

to be continued...

thank you so so much for reading! if you'd like to be added to the tag list, drop a comment below! 💗✨

cross-posted on AO3

part one | two (here) | ....

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freesia-writes · 3 months

Note

Hey there! So... I saw your Valentine post and I would really love to read a little something with my beloved, if that's alright! I really like your blog and your vibe so I figured it would be a great read!

So if it's alright, I'd love to request a Crosshair x Fem!Reader where the reader is shorter than him, kind of with a grumpy/sunshine or a "stoic man goes soft when he looks at the woman he loves" kind of thing... I'm so weak for that trope, honestly, and Crosshair always sweeps me off my feet ❤️

No pressure at all, love! I'll be happy to read what you write for this February 14th.

Hugs!

Hellooooo friend! :) Thanks so much! I hope this is a warm and fuzzy little read for ya. Dividers courtesy of @stars-n-spice via this post. I wasn't sure if I should post them all on the 14th or just churn em out as I finish, but I figured I'd space em out a bit. 🤓

Crosshair x Reader (I think it could be Fem or GN; hair in the face is mentioned, as well as "looking pretty", but I think that's it)

1.2k words - SFW - content warnings are just flirtin n kissin. 😜

The indoor shooting range on Kamino hummed with the steady rhythm of blaster fire, the loud noise constantly reverberating off the walls. You stood at the edge of the range, observing the troopers as they honed their skills and ready to provide additional instruction or advice as needed. A tall, lanky figure caught your eye, and your heart skipped a beat. Clone Force 99 must be on world.

Crosshair's presence always commanded attention, his tall frame towering over the troopers as he moved with purpose and precision. It wasn't the first time you had encountered him here, and each time, you found yourself captivated by his silent prowess and unwavering focus.

As he lined up his first shot, you couldn't help but admire the way he handled his weapon with ease, his movements fluid and controlled. Despite his stoic demeanor, there was an undeniable magnetism about him, an irresistible pull that drew you in like a moth to a flame. The interactions you’d had over the last number of months had always left you wanting more; you were sure of an incredible depth and complexity beneath his icy exterior, and the few quips and jabs you’d traded in the mess hall as well as the firing range had only served to fuel your interest.

The presence of other troopers always kept his walls up, though. You noticed the way he’d walk -- steady and focused, unaffected by anything around him. His gaze was steely and his affect flat, save for the few glances you’d shared where you could swear there was an imperceptible softening in his sharp eyes.

"Nice shooting," you called out as he completed the course, a genuine smile playing at your lips. "You make it look easy."

Crosshair grunted in response, but there was a flicker of something in his amber eyes, a hint of appreciation for your words. It wasn't often that he received praise, and you could tell it meant more to him than he let on.

"It is easy," he replied gruffly, his lips hinting at a smile. "You ever shoot anything in here, or do you just stand around and look pretty?”

You chuckled at his comment, feeling a warmth spread through you at the compliment. "I guess I just stick to what I’m best at," you replied, unable to hide the smile in your voice as you peered up at him.

Crosshair's smirk grew, a rare display of emotion from the typically stoic sniper. "I guess," he conceded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. “You want a lesson?”

The air between you crackled with tension, the unspoken attraction simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, and for a moment, it felt as though the world around you had fallen away.

“I suppose a little extra preparation couldn’t hurt,” you attempted, casting one last glance down the range to ensure that everyone was alright on their own for now before stepping into one of the stalls.

Crosshair stepped in behind you, slipping a basic blaster into your hands and nodding down the alley, where the targets had begun to move and shuffle around one another in their predictable way. You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling wildly self-conscious, as though you’d never handled a weapon in your life.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” you confessed.

“Performance anxiety getting to you?” he teased, stepping closer so his chest was pressed against your back. He reached around your shoulders, easy for him from his height, and fitted his hands around yours where they rested on the blaster. Your heart skipped a beat at his proximity, suddenly swimming in this scent and closeness and presence. Almost automatically, you found yourself nestling into his embrace, completely and totally unaware of everything else going on. You heard him inhale behind you, then he quickly compensated by leveling the blaster at the first target. “Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

You sighed, bringing yourself back to the task at hand and raising the blaster to your eye, squinting to get a good aim and waiting to get the timing right. You watched the rhythm of the targets, memorizing the track and speed of each, then squeezed off a few shots, hitting some of them but not all. A self-effacing little chuckle fell from your lips as you set the blaster down on the tray in front of you, stepping to the side to look at Crosshair sheepishly.

“You make me nervous,” you admitted, seeking an excuse but realizing it was more of a confession.

“So sorry,” he crooned, stepping a bit closer and brushing a strand of hair back from your face. You sucked in a sharp breath, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy of the gesture.

"You've been watching me," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "I've noticed."

Heat flooded your cheeks at the realization that he had been aware of your gaze all along. "I... I have," you confessed, meeting his gaze with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. “Sorry. You’re just really good at what you do.”

“Mmm. Is that it?” he prodded, moving his hand to brush your cheek with the backs of gently-curled fingers.

“Geez, Crosshair,” you breathed, eyes dropping to his chest as your heart pounded in your chest. You were utterly speechless, simultaneously frozen in place and yet fighting every urge in your body to reach out and touch him, pull him hard against you.

“Maybe a lesson of a different sort,” he suggested, a gleam in his luminous eyes that made your knees weak. Before you could respond, he leaned closer, gaze flickering down to your lips and back, hesitating for a second as though waiting for you to pull away. But you were drawn in, moving without your permission, reaching up to bring your face to his as your hand snuck around the back of his neck.

And then he was kissing you. It was gentle at first, hesitant and questioning, then slowly grew firmer as he took one more step closer, cupping your face with two strong hands. Your eyes were closed so tightly that you thought you may have been dreaming, trying so hard to commit every single detail to memory, from the shocking softness of his lips to the intoxicating sensation of his frame curled around your own. Pulling back, he met your gaze once more, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Not bad," he remarked, his tone teasing. "But I think it could use some further practice."

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful arrogance, the tension between you dissipating like smoke in the wind. Lingering for a moment, you cupped his cheek before stepping back, resting a hand on his chest for a second and then dropping it to your side.

“Anything for the Republic,” you said with a cheesy salute, cringing immediately at your own attempt at humor.

He slipped a toothpick into his mouth, flicking it into one corner as touched your chin with some lightly curled fingers before giving you a wink and sauntering away, leaving you standing there, dumbfounded.

“If you’re done making out with the weirdo, can I get a reset on the lane over here?” a clone voice called out, evoking a bright blush across your face as you rushed over to help him, ignoring the taunting grin on his face.

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#the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #star wars fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair #x reader #reader insert #x reader fluff #crosshair fluff #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair romance #first kiss #clone fluff #tbb fluff

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momojedi · 5 days

Note

Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??

JUST MARRIED PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” #97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”

GENRE: Fluff WARNING: none A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!

MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

"Mhi solus tome,

Mhi solus dar’tome.

Mhi me’dinui an,

Mhi ba’juri verde."

Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.

Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...

Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.

When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.

Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.

"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.

The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."

The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes. "Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?" "I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it. "I..." "Yes?" "Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."

...

"WHAT?"

"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us? "You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.

Force, this man is captivating.

Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.

"R-rex, are you suggesting...?" "[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"

I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze. "I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,

Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“So, about that wedding night…”

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emperor-palpaminty · 9 days

Text

Kix X Reader

Hi I had feelings for the last clone and I wanted some angst so. Have some Kix. Here is his wookiepedia which is interesting! It may give you some context as well. This is a part of my underappreciated clones series- send in a clone you don't think gets enough love!

Also BTW this armor SLAPS (from his Wookiepedia)

You had seen all kinds of outcasts, outlaws, and outsiders come by your little hostel. It offered a safe place for people to come stay. With the empire crumbled and a new order trying to be rebuilt, people needed somewhere safe to lay their heads.

You only had one rule: no fighting or killing within the walls of your domain. If they did, they would be subject to being booted out or being hunted down by the other patrons.

And you did not want these patrons getting peeved at one another.

You sighed. The air was humid on this planet. Money and business was good, and that seemed to be enough for you to never leave whenever the inkling came to mind to scurry off this planet. Especially in a galaxy as turbulent as this one- it felt like little skirmishes were still outbreaking, with bounty hunters and gangsters slowly finding their places and rising in this more free and open universe without an Empire to bow down to. Your arm hurt from scrubbing the counter.

Your parents had met in the war. You didn't hear them talk too much about it- war is war, they said, and it is better to not discuss these things.

So you let it stay quiet as they established the little inn. Their scars and weapons hanging on walls behind the counters or hidden in closets did all the talking.

Everyone needed a place to rest. Surviors and deserters and bounty hunters. It made money.

But you never knew who would walk in the door.

Even when the door opened, you could sense the meloncholy weight on his shoulders. You didn't pay much attention to the feelings that plagued you when you saw people- the sadness, the anger, the dread.

This guy was just tired.

You glanced up when the footsteps stopped by you. It gave you pause- his armor looked like a storm trooper, but so very different. Scuffed, but layers of paint were placed in some places as if to rebrand himself, but the stark white armor always coming forward and revealing itself.

A deserter, perhaps?

It was the helmet that made it dawn on you- the shape of the visor. Whatever this man was, he was not a storm trooper, or at least you didn't think so.

A modulated sound came through his helmet. You blinked, making an apologetic sound, and he repeated himself. "A room, please?"

Please. As you nodded and turned to grab a card, something in you kneaded softly against your chest as you handed it to him.

A jolt shot through your hands as you felt the tip of his own hand, a smooth glove, brush your own skin. He was quiet, and only nodded and mumbled his thanks before leaving.

An unusual patron indeed.

You didn't see his face the first couple of nights. He would keep his helmet on, turned away from everyone. You heard stories of some Mandalorians being very private with their faces, and you heard him speaking mando'a over the comm system in his helmet, which looked vaugely Mandalorian from what you had seen.

He didn't walk like a Mandalorian though. He was broad, and treaded carefully. His head was level and his voice was soft. He didn't want attention called to him, even if it was hard to not notice him. The scuffed blue paint stood out to the reds, the metals, the browns and blacks that other folks who came through wore.

Your eyes always found the blue armor.

You rounded the corner, carrying the clean towels. You had a nice and folded stack, pausing on occasion to tuck one by each door. They were clean and still warm, but somewhat worn. Not that anyone minded- a clean towel was a luxury in this part of the galaxy. You hummed softly, kneeling down to set the towel neatly on the little table by the door.

It opened swiftly, making you step back in surprise. A sound caught in your throat and you nearly fell back, the towels tumbling from your arm.

A hand caught your arm and kept you from effectively smacking into the floor. You adjusted at the hold and looked up, gulping when the blue helmet tilted. After a moment of silence, he spoke- the first time you heard his voice since he checked in. "You okay?"

You nodded, pulling yourself back up. "Thank you." The grip had been quick and tight. Not that you minded. "Sorry." You leaned down to pick up the towels and start re-folding them.

He knelt down by you and helped. The motions were fluid and un-soldier-like, but he folded every towel crisply and easily, much quicker than you could. You watched as he turned, holding out the towels.

"I should apologize." He said, gently nudging the towels into your arms.

That was the extent of the conversation- He stepped away and moved down the hall, steps silent. The towels were warm in your hands, and felt softer than before if that was even possible. Your mind flitted to the possibility that, perhaps, he had not always been a mercenary, and that thought lived in your head through the remainder of your tasks.

#kix #clone wars kix #clone wars kix x reader #kix x you #star wars kix #star wars reader insert #underappreciated clones #clone wars reader insert #minty writes

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 2 years

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(The Bad Batch) Hunter x Reader: Stay

(Author's Note: Just a little short!! Enjoy!!)

You were doing a walkthrough aboard the Marauder to ensure that everything was functioning as it should, a favor you volunteered to do for Tech. There were no flashing lights or beeping instruments; however, there was one thing that wasn't quite to your liking. Hunter was planted in one of the seats, head leaned back, with his eyes scrunched shut as if in deep concentration or possibly pain. The sight made your heart ache.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently.

Without opening his eyes, he gave a small nod. "Just a headache." Your eyes softened at his admission. It wasn't uncommon for him to get headaches with his set of special skills, but it never failed to stir compassion in you.

You reached out a hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch instantly, the stubble of his cheek brushing your palm. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He opened his brown eyes then to meet your tender gaze. "Actually..." He began in a low voice, nearly a whisper. "Will you stay for a minute?"

You couldn't say no to such a request from him that was spoken with vulnerable honesty, even if you wanted to. You moved to stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your chin on top of his head. A deep sigh escaped the sergeant as the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. You shifted to hold onto him tighter.

"It's going to be okay, love." You pressed a kiss to his temple and remained there, exhaling quietly against his ear. His muscles loosened as he relaxed into your embrace. Finally, he angled his head to meet your lips in a kiss, a heartfelt gesture of gratitude. You brushed your palm against his cheek once more.

"I need to finish this walkthrough, but when I'm done, I'll be right back."

"Alright." The subtle reluctance in Hunter's tone made you smile.

"It'll only be a few minutes."

"Of course, do what you need to." He kissed the back of your hand as you extricated yourself from the cuddle. "Hurry back."

"You've got it, Sarge."

#hunter x reader #bad batch hunter #bad batch x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #bad batch reader insert #hunter reader insert #hunter imagine #bad batch hunter x reader #clone wars #Clone wars x reader #bad batch fanfics #bad batch #bad batch imagine #clone wars reader insert #clone wars hunter #clone wars hunter x reader

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deejadabbles · 3 months

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Forbidden Blossom (Kix x Fem!Reader, Fantasy AU Part 2)

Part One || Part Two || Part Three Coming Soon

Summary: The tyrant king had never claimed to love you and you certainly held no affection for him. Thankfully, there was someone else who captured your heart. Rating: Gen (but minors DNI!) A.N: Listen....I'm just really obsessed with fantasy AUs right now, so I just had to continue what I created back during Halloween! As always, this got way out of hand and the continuation got too long, so this will be a 3 parter. Part 3 will be posted next week so I don't overwhelm anyone Word Count: 3,409 Warnings: Forced engagement, abusive relationships, implied physical abuse, life threats, and forbidden love. If you are concerned that this chapter's content might be triggering, please feel free to send me a message! I will do my best to answer any questions (without triggering language). That goes for all of my fics, I want everyone reading to be safe.

Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3

The sheets felt like sandpaper, despite their silken weave, the air cold and stifling regardless of the fire and windows ajar. A prison, even though the doors were not locked.

You didn’t know what time of day it was, but the chamber maids had cleared out recently marking that it was some time before lunch, probably. That wouldn’t matter, you had barely eaten anything since you’d been dragged to the palace of the tyrant.

So, it almost surprised you when you heard voices outside your door. One voice was the captain of your guard, the man who, at least once a day, insisted that you eat something. The other voice was not one you recognized and that alone made you stir just a little under your duvet. Not just anyone was permitted into your chambers, let alone this close to your bedroom door.

“Oh gods, please- please don’t let it be him!”

But even as the heartstopping thought came to you, it was wiped away by the gentleness of the stranger's voice. There was no way the King you had met could sound so…

“There has to be something you can do, Kix.” That was Fox, a good man despite his stern frown.

There was a sigh from the stranger “I can try but….” a thought mulled over, carefully considered, “brother, I can’t heal a broken heart.”

“And why would you think- actually, never mind just…just do something, before he does something.”

The sound of retreating boots followed, along with another sigh a moment later. A heartbeat went by and you hoped the stranger had abandoned his assignment, that he would just leave you to your gilded cage, but then the doors to your bedroom opened.

You retreated further under your blankets, sinking into their plush warmth that still seemed so abrasive to your skin. Maybe if he thought you were asleep he would try again later. Yet again though, this mystery man surprised you. His steps towards your lavish bed were slow and careful, as if approaching a dragon’s nest.

“Your Highness?” he asked, voice quiet and soft. Highness, not Majesty, because you were not yet married to that evil man- thank the gods. “My Lady, I’m a doctor, I’ve been asked to see to your health.” His voice was closer now, right beside the head of your bed.

“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do, Doctor,” came your voice from under the fabric.

Another beat of silence, then, “Would you be willing to let me try, at least?”

You had no idea what or why, but something in his tone made you pull back the covers and peer up at him. He was handsome, devastatingly so, with finely styled hair, but the thing that drew you in most were his eyes. A rich brown color and holding a look that…it wasn’t pity. This was the first time a member of the palace had looked at you softly without pity and that alone kept you from ordering him out of your room.

He smiled then, as soft and kindly as his eyes when he reached out to your hand. “May I?”

Soft and considerate, this man was impressing you more by the minute. You nodded and held your palm up to him. Gently, he took your wrist and pressed his fingers to the soft skin there.

“Alright, your pulse is fine,” he hummed then, again slowly so you had time to stop him, he reached that hand to your forehead. His fingers were cool, like a refreshing damp cloth on a hot day, and it was all you could do not to lean into his touch. “No fever, either,” he continued thoughtfully. Then, after a moment he took his hand away, “May I ask you some questions?”

You nodded numbly, silently.

Instead of immediately asking this and that about your medical history, he instead walked over to your fireplace and grabbed one of the chairs. He brought it over to the bedside and sat with a little satisfied sigh.

“Tell me about your home.”

That caused you to blink, “Wh-what?”

His knowing smile didn’t falter, “Talk to me, My Lady. Tell me about where you grew up. What you loved most about it. The things that made you happy there.”

Your brows came together in confusion and you finally sat upright to meet his handsome eyes better. He didn’t repeat himself, just waited patiently. Despite the fact that his gaze never left your face, you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were in nothing but your thin night clothes. He was a doctor, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen exposed bodies before, but your sudden shyness prompted you to lift the blanket over your chest as you settled your back against the pillows.

“Well…” you started after clearing your throat.

Where would you even start with his question? You missed everything about home, every tiny detail that stood in stark contrast to this place. You missed the sun coming in to shine over a room you decorated and filled yourself. You missed visiting the village and all who greeted you with a smile and a wave. Missed the late nights with friends and people you loved. And the people who loved you back.

That and so much more came to mind, but, you only had to think for a moment longer before a memory two weeks old came back to you.

Nothing about this arranged marriage had pleased you, but you had at least tried to find some enjoyment in your first days here. Then you had taken a walk through the gardens and when even they did not spark joy, your emotions spiraled, landing you here, in your current state.

“I miss my gardens,” you said finally, staring off at nothing in particular. “They were so beautiful. So colorful and vibrant…. Not like the bare, minimal flower beds here.” You trailed off for a moment, pulling up fond memories from the depths of your mind and, for maybe the first time since you started your journey here, you smiled. A real, genuine smile. “There was one section where our gardener would let things get just a little overgrown,” a ghost of a laugh escaped you as you met the Doctor’s eyes again, “he said that it represented ‘wild beauty’ and somehow convinced my father to keep it. My loved ones and I set up a little tea area there and every afternoon we would go walking through the gardens and…just talk and laugh. Simple pleasures.”

The Doctor’s smile turned encouraging and your body turned to him fully. Before you knew it you were telling him stories, stories of you and your best friends racing through the flowers, of begging the bakers to let you help prepare the treats you’d stuff into baskets and carry out there. Stories of reenacting scenes from your favorite books like children playing pretend. He listened to it all, laughing along with you, asking questions here and there and encouraging you all the way.

You weren’t even sure how much time had passed before you realized that the weight that had been pressing on your chest for weeks felt…lighter now. Suddenly, the room wasn’t quite as suffocating as before. Maker, you even had the urge to pull back the curtains to let a little sunlight in.

The good doctor must have noticed your sudden silence, because he pulled his chair just a little closer to you. “Thank you, for sharing those stories with me, Your Highness.” He paused for a moment, seeming to think something over. “I know I’ve already asked a lot of you, but, could I ask one more thing?”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even hesitate, you nodded silently.

“I would love to show you something, it’s a beautiful day and I think a walk would do you some good. Will you get dressed and meet with me?”

And there it was, he was still asking you, considering you, taking your wants into account. No one here had ever done that. Not truly.

“Yes, yes, I think that sounds nice.”

Those eyes of his brightened “Excellent! Take your time, I’ll tell Fox where to escort you.”

With that, he got up, pulled the chair back to its original spot and made for the door. Only now it was time for your own question, “Wait- Doctor! What’s your name? You didn’t give it earlier.”

For the first time, he looked surprised, “Kix, My Lady. You may call Kix.” He looked back at you with his hand on the doorknob. “I look forward to our walk, Your Highness.”

And with that, he- Kix, slipped out of the room. It was only then that you realized there was a small fluttering sensation in your stomach, something light and almost uneasy. Well, you hadn’t eaten much in so long, it must be that. You thought about indulging in one of the snack trays the maids left at your bedside, but the thought still didn’t quite appeal to you.

Still, the fact that you could pull yourself out of bed and start putting thought into what you wanted to wear was a good improvement.

You did not call on your handmaids, the idea of being surrounded by people, of hands on your skin and in your hair, did not sit well at the moment. Despite that, and the fact that it was the first time in days you had come out of your room, It did not take that long to get ready and ask Fox to escort you to this mysterious location.

At first when you stepped outside the east wing, your heart dropped slightly, knowing that this was the way to the gardens that were a stark, depressing imitation of your lavish grounds back home. But, the gentle doctor was not waiting for you there. Yes, you had to walk through those almost sterile flowerbeds, but obviously this was not the intended meeting spot.

You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to see the roses cut down to their stems so the thorns prickled in the sunlight, or how the lilies were cut free of any diverse or colorful petals, robbing them of unique beauty. At the edge of the overly pruned yard was a line of tall hedges and Fox led you past them.

What lay beyond took your breath away.

It was an orchard teeming with life. Countless trees bearing fragrant fruit and vine covered trellises blooming with even more. All of them were well tended, cared for, but not overly cut like the flowers before. No, these were how nature should be, respected and loved and free to grow.

And there among it all, looking fondly at a patch of strawberries, was Kix. His smile rivaled the warmth of the sun as he noticed you standing there and he bowed his head slightly. “Your Highness, thank you for joining me.” Then he turned to Fox, “You can leave the Princess to me, Commander.”

In answer, the leader of your personal guard sighed, but turned to stand sentry by the hedge archway without protest. Kix waved his hand down the humble pathway between the trees, an invitation to walk with him. You did, gladly, and didn’t try to hide how in wonder you were of the orchard as you two began your walk.

“Hardly anyone but the gardeners come here,” Kix explained, “It took a long time for them to convince the King that over pruning is bad for the harvest, and that’s the only reason these plants and trees aren’t cut down to their stems. When you told those stories about your garden back home, I thought you might like it here.”

“It’s beautiful,” your tone was breathless, which obviously pleased him to no end, if that look in his eyes was any indication. “Thank you, Kix, this is wonderful.”

He opened his mouth, a response on the tip of his tongue, but then he hesitated. Instead, he walked over to the nearest tree, which just so happened to be bearing one of your favorite fruits, and plucked a ripe specimen from the branch.

“I know that your situation isn’t an easy one, Princess,” he started as he walked back to you, “but if you ever need an ear to listen,” he took your hand and placed the fruit in your palm, “you just have to ask, and I’m yours.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you nearly gasped at his words and that’s when he suddenly looked a little flustered.

“My ear- my ear is yours, I mean.” He laughed nervously, then closed your fingers over the fruit, “What I’m trying to say is that, if you ever need a friend, I would be honored if you considered me one.”

It was hard to meet his gaze, not because you were embarrassed by his misstep in words, but because his promise made that fluttering sensation move to your chest as well as your stomach. This man, so full of kindness and care, he was making your heart feel light and heavy all at the same time. Maybe there was some joy to be found in this cage. You would take any you could get, so, you thanked the Doctor for his kind words.

“I would be the one honored to call you my friend, Kix.”

Something akin to surprise colored his eyes at that, surprise and something… tender.

“Then, whenever you need to talk, or want a reminder of home, just call on me.” Then, Kix closed his eyes and lifted your clasped hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your fingers.

It was that moment that your heart took flight.

It was no wonder that, over the next months, the Princess and the Doctor would fall madly and deeply in love.

Your room had never quite felt like a home, always a golden cell, always a sign of your lost freedom, or the way you were chained to him. But it had never felt as cold and unforgiving as it did now. The fire was out, leaving you in icy darkness, all while the fiance you never chose towered over you.

“I asked you a question, girl: do you think I am a fool?” The tyrant king’s tone was flat and cold, even as you tried to choke back the tears from your spot on the floor.

Even if you tried to get up, he would just force you back down again, so you answered him through gritted teeth. “No. You are no fool, Your Majesty.”

“Then why did you think I wouldn’t find out about this?” It was the first time something besides cold fury colored his tone. He was seething now. “Did you truly think I was so blind? That I wouldn’t see the longing stares or hear about your romantic walks?!”

You yelped when he grabbed your collar and yanked you onto your back.

“Did you truly think you could get away with making a fool of me?”

For all his cruelty, you had never seen him like this, his brutality had always been a cold and unfeeling blade, not this burning fire of rage. It was all there in his eye and bared teeth as he glared down at you and it made you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Then, the harsh curl of his lips eased, teeth no longer bared, as he leaned back and stepped away from your prone form. He was regaining his composure before your eyes as he straightened and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Get up,” he commanded, tone like cold steel once again. “I want you to have a better seat when my men bring in the good doctor.”

That caused your heart to freeze in your chest. “No- no!” The desperate plea left you as you scrambled to your feet.

The King smiled in that cruel curl of his lips. “Yes, my dear. You will watch while I make an example of him. While I show him what happens to men who touch what’s mine.”

“Please!” Your voice cracked with the force of your words, “Please- I’m to blame, not him!”

His smile only grew with more you pleaded, “Which is exactly why I will hurt him instead.”

That vicious mirth in his eyes is what made you lose any last shred of resolve. Of course this was his plan, cold and calculated. Bruises could heal, but the memories of this? They would haunt you forever, and in the end he still got his meek pet for a queen.

“I gave you an order,” he went on, “I said get up-”

He was interrupted by the doors to your chambers being thrown open. In marched a company of the King’s most trusted guards, with Commander Fox, who had been ordered to wait outside, hot on their heels.

“Your Majesty,” the head of this company said with a bow, “my men are still searching the grounds, but it would appear that the traitor Kix has…escaped.”

Oh, the king did not like that.

The fabric of his gloves strained as he clenched his fists, the knuckles surely white beneath. He drew in a harsh breath through his nose as he turned away from you without a second glance.

“Find him. Search the whole kingdom if needed,” all the guards, save for Fox, followed their king as he stormed towards the doors, “if you have to bring him back here in pieces, do it!”

With that threat ringing in your ears, doors were slammed shut again, the sound echoing through the room like glass shattering on marble.

Silence swelled, filling the void the King’s rage left behind. Leaving you in the cold and the dark. In your cage draped in finery.

Gone. Kix was gone. He had escaped somehow. The thought sent a myriad of emotions washing through you, tearing and shredding your body in a confusing whirlwind. Before you knew it, you were curling in on yourself, fists clutching the fabric over your heart and tears staining your cheeks.

Harsh sobs wracked your body and you couldn’t say whether they were from the relief of knowing he was safe or the sorrow of knowing you would never see the love of your life again. Deep down, they were likely both, you supposed.

You jumped when something warm and heavy was draped around your shoulders. You hadn’t even noticed Fox kneeling beside you, blanket in hand. Somewhere, in the back of your mind you remembered telling him that the blanket was your favorite from home, but at the moment all you could do was pull it tighter around yourself as you tried to steady the painful breaths you were taking.

Fox, possibly the only other man who had ever shown you any care in this hellish castle, didn’t say a word as he waited for your body to tire itself out with its mourning. When it did, he silently helped you to your feet. You don’t remember walking to your bed, just that the blankets had been placed over you and the fireplace nearby had been stoked back to life.

Finally, your trusted guard spoke, a firm if still cautious call of your name. Your actual name, not a title. “Please,” he said in a whisper, “don’t do anything drastic. Things won’t be like this for much longer. I promise.”

Confused, you blinked up at him, but he didn’t say anything more, just bowed his head respectfully and closed the curtains of your bed slowly. If there had been any strength left in you, you might have called for him, asked him to stay close. To not leave you. You didn’t need to ask, however, you heard his boots stop just outside your bedroom. Standing sentry, acting as your shield, as much as he could in any case.

The patterns of the curtains danced from the crackling fire on the other side, but it was just a blank canvas to stare at as your mind ran the same thoughts in your head over and over again. He’s gone, Kix is gone. At best, you’ll never know true love’s touch again, at worst, you’ll see that love slaughtered for the crime of existing.

Still, even in your spiraling despair, one other mantra crept in here and there.

“Things won’t be like this for much longer”

Divider by the amazing @dystopicjumpsuit

#kix x reader #clone medic kix x reader #fantasy au #clone wars fantasy au #deeja writes #reader insert #clone wars reader insert

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bountyhunter1409 · 1 month

Note

Hello there ma’am! I was wondering if I could request a headcanon with Hunter & Tech? And if they had a s/o who’s pretty forgetful? This is up to you but thank you so much! 🙏

author's note: thanks for your request, anon! Hope this is what you're looking for!

warning(s): none, just fluff

divider by: @plutism

"Is this going to be a reoccurring habit?"

At first, Tech believed your forgetfulness simply to be that of human error—a once in a blue moon type of thing that he could easily look over.

When it became clear that this was going to amount to an almost everyday obstacle...well, he became annoyed to say the least.

Forgetting how to pilot the Maurader was one thing —despite Tech having shown you the mechanics countless times—but forgetting your weapon when you needed it most was another bridge he couldn't risk crossing more than once.

Tech's annoyance, of course, was birthed from pure worry for your safety and everyone else's. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something were to happen to you because you didn't have what you needed.

"Just trust me. After all, based off of prior instances, I am the least forgetful out of the both of us."

Upon learning that your forgetfulness was going to be a reoccurring habit, Tech finds himself checking after you. Despite being an expert on the mechanics of ships, he'll take it upon himself to go behind you and check your work and question it.

At first it's insulting. You think he doesn't trust you, that you can't handle yourself.

In order to ease his anxiety, Tech even keeps a close eye on you whenever a new mission is set upon the squad.

He goes through a checklist of items you'll need right before the Maurader lands— listing them off out loud, as you confirm with a reluctant 'got it ' or a curt 'check'.

When you've shamefully tightened the straps on your boots, Tech senses your frustration annd walks towards you.

He places his hand on the small of your back, pulls you close to him and kisses your forehead, before pressing your foreheads together.

"Now, are you sure you've got everything?"

"Tech!"

"Are you...uh, forgetting something?"

Yeah...you're a bit of a liability to Hunter.

Given that he already has Omega to worry about, he's not at all thrilled that you're forgetfulness pops up more than he would've liked. But thankfully, he isn't as blunt as Tech about your misgivings.

In fact, Hunter tries to help you out.

He's already packing an extra blaster in case you forget yours. He sets aside a knife just for you to keep in case of emergencies. He's always at your side during missions just in case he has to catches you when you fall. Or rather, remind you.

"I just want you safe."

Of course, at some point you start to think Hunter believes you're incapable of taking care of yourself. Or being beneficial tot he squad.

This is far from the truth in Hunter's eyes. So much so, he pulls you aside one quiet night on the Maurder.

His hands settle on your waist lightly and your hand resting against cheek. The skin under your fingertips is scarred with wrinkles birthed from exhaustion.

Without saying a single word, you have a feeling you were the cause of those tired lines on his face.

"Is this about the incident on Ord Mantell?" you whisper in the dead of night. You cringe, recalling you had forgotten what position you were supposed to be in just before the rancor came charging at you. Hunter had stepped in front of you, taking the bulk of the force so that you didn't have to.

The next day Hunter woke up more sore than usual.

Hunter is amused by this, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at the memory.

He shakes his locks and brings you close to him in an embrace, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Perhaps we'll have you stationed in the ship for the next mission. You and Omega both."

It's a joke, because you both know you and Omega are too stubborn to sit and watch the others on a mission.

You laugh at as you lightly hit his chest armor. Hunter grunts playfully. Before you can fully pull away, Hunter pulls back to him. It's this silent embrace that ensures you he only cares about your wellbeing.

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sinfulsalutations · 1 year

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𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕤/𝕠 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 + 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕩

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ɴꜰꜱᴡ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ɪᴍ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ.

⋆ ★ ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴏʙʟɪɢᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀꜱ ɪ ᴀᴍ 4’11 ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ꜱᴡ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏʏꜱ ᴀᴛᴍ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ɢɪᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ʙᴀᴛᴄʜ+ʀᴇx ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ/ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ꜱ/ᴏ! ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter

Despite being the only one out of clone force 99 who’s the average clone trooper height, he still is immensely taller (and broader, to be frank, excluding that little slutty waist) compared to you.

It strokes his ego quite a bit

Maybe a bit more if you like to point it out.

It ties into any sort of praise you shower onto him, really. If you tell him all about how tall and big and strong he is, you’re practically begging for him to pounce on you.

Hunter’s just whipped for you like that.

Despite that, he finds your height to be really cute.

It’s not everything he likes about you, of course, but it just ties it all in; it's just an aspect he adores sometimes.

He tries not to do it anymore because he wants to be helpful, but occasionally he’ll sit back and watch you struggle to reach something high up. The grin that spreads across his face could lift the entire galaxy’s spirits.

If you realize, you put a hand on your hip and pout.

“Really?”

He hides his red face and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, mesh’la. You just looked so cute.”

When you huff again he reaches for the object you were trying to reach and hands it to you like it was a delicacy on a silver platter.

Whenever you're in a position like that, where your chests almost touched and he looked down at you, you enjoyed going on your tip toes and pecking his chin affectionately.

“I’m adorable, aren’t I?”

Tech

At first, even as you start a relationship with him, it is simply an objective fact about you.

He’ll make slightly offhanded comments about it, but you know he doesn't mean any harm when he says them.

“I should probably handle this instead since it would be easier for me to complete. Considering our heights.”

“Please don’t climb over the shelves, dear. You might hurt yourself.”

Eventually, the comments stop, you don’t really know why.

You do realize though he will always offer help in a situation where you are vertically challenged and his comments aren’t meant to be demeaning.

The height difference between you two, however, shifts from a focus on your height to his.

Tech knew that you gained a sense of enjoyment from the contrast in appearance, but didn’t realize how much you liked it.

And you liked it a lot.

Something about Tech completely towering over you while ever so slightly asserting his intellectual superiority rubs you in all the right places.

You tell him about it, and he tries his best to nod it off. Emphasis on tries.

He subconsciously begins trying to catch you in positions where he’s physically overwhelming; dwarfing your body into his and enveloping you into him wholly.

He doesn't notice hes doing it, but you do; oh you do.

You won't point it out. Both of you get off on his little power trips.

Wrecker

Let’s be real, this man has a raging size kink.

Of course, even if you’re average height or above, you’re minuscule compared to Wrecker. But man, if you’re short, petite, etc.? Wrecker is GONE. Deceased. Done.

He simply will never be able to get over how cute you are.

And maybe you feed into it as well.

Call him ‘big guy’ or give him that doe-eyed look like you’re in awe of a giant overtop you and you won’t walk for the next week.

He gets just a tad bit feral.

Sometimes, he finds it more comedic.

Like when you topple over trying to reach something on a high-up shelf.

You’ve become quite embarrassed about always needing assistance from Wrecker, especially because of all the teasing you’ve gained from his brothers.

So despite him always being fully willing to help at any time, you get a little too flustered for your liking and try to do the tasks yourself.

And yet, this doesn’t solve your problem. You continue to fall straight on your ass every time.

His laughter fills the entire ship.

“I must’ve turned invisible” he toddles over and opens his arms out wide. “Your footstool is right here!”

You can’t help but facepalm.

Other times, he finds it arousing.

Like when you press up against his stomach and chest, your chin resting up so you stared at him with wide eyes.

His whole body could completely swallow you whole in those moments.

How could he not get a boner?

BONUS: You’re small enough to huddle up on his lap and fit your entire body onto him with your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. Yes, those are the best cuddles. Yes, you both fall asleep instantly.

Crosshair

I'm sorry, but if you didn't think Crosshair was gonna tease you, he’s not your man.

On a day he's being especially pesky, every other sentence that comes out of his mouth is commenting on your height.

Crosshair loves seeing you frustrated, he thinks you look cute like that. He's like a schoolboy in that way, but don't say that. He’ll get all pissy and refuse to talk to you for a few hours.

Yep. Definitely a whiny schoolboy.

Will use the top of your head as an armrest and won’t protest if one of his brothers captures a photo of you two in that position.

Even if you're sitting next to each other he’ll find an opportunity to prop an elbow on your shoulder or head. it never fails to make him chuckle darkly to himself.

But if you ask him to help you reach something high up, he’ll do it wordlessly. Save the teasing for after.

if you blush furiously and scold him, he’ll only smirk and if no one else is around, give you a peck on your forehead.

“Can’t stop myself, doll.”

Won't offer help with any vertical challenges despite him being much taller. He’d like to, but in his head, he still thinks that he’ll come out too soft.

He might do it wordlessly and swiftly, even if you don't ask. Perhaps that's his way of showing love.

Echo

He won’t comment on it. Not for a while at least.

This man has had his fair share of body insecurity, and he isn’t so sure if your height is one of yours. He won’t risk that, he cares far too much about you to hurt your feelings inadvertently, or accidentally trigger any association with bad thoughts about yourself with him.

You’re the one to first bring it up, in fact.

It came out when you had started to get a little tipsy at Cid’s, and were talking about the batch’s physiques.

“And Echo, I know there’s wrecker over there but…” you cradled his face and looked up at him with awe, more adoration than he’d ever felt in his life. “You’re just so big and tall… and strong” with your last word, a small, whimpered moan followed.

Oh, if you were only sober enough to notice how his codpiece rubbed against your stomach harder than usual.

Sure, you got some shit from the boys for it the day after when you sobered up, but you didn’t regret saying it.

Finally, you got out of your head and told Echo how much you loved your height difference.

He stumbles a bit at first with your confession, but once the two of you go to continue doing something else, you notice how his chest puffs out just a little bit more and his shoulders are more squared up.

He always used to help you when trying to reach something high up before, but after that day, every time he does it feels so… purposeful.

It kind of is (he’d never admit it though).

He just can’t get your comment out of his mind.

It’s almost feral how kindred his need gets when you look, feel so much smaller than him.

But he’d never say it.

Actions, however, always speak more than words when it comes to Echo.

Rex

Rex is such an act of service guy, c’mon

He’s the kind of guy to always clean up after himself always if he’s around at your place. Does all the gross, menial tasks in the kitchen. If you fall asleep watching something, he’ll turn it off and carry you to bed.

He’s just such a gentleman, you can’t convince me otherwise.

So of course, if you’re more, ahem, vertically challenged than most, he is there.

He’s not the type to hold off on helping you out, like Hunter or Crosshair, but he might make a couple quips after or just randomly through the day.

“You’re so cute like this.”

“Aw, cyare, ‘m sorry you need my help. Can’t imagine living like this every day.”

It's hard to get mad at his comments, though.

Not when he’s always there the second you need him.

Though, when the two of you are more… intimate, the size difference comes into play more.

He doesn’t really have a size kink like Wrecker does, but Rex would be lying if his dick hasn't throbbed seeing the way his hand completely covered yours while going to town.

But he’s just so sweet about it; you’ve seen the way he looks at you in moments like those, with pure awe and revel, it makes you feel so loved and protected.

He could never make you feel otherwise.wise.

#nour writes stuff #the bad batch #the bad batch headcannons #hunter tbb #tech tbb #wrecker tbb #crosshair tbb #echo tbb #captain rex #tbb hunter x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb echo x reader #captain rex x reader #star wars #the clone wars #star wars headcanons #reader insert

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toska-writes · 11 months

Text

“Sleeping/Cuddling Clone Headcannons”

Clones x GN padawan reader

(I guess it could be read in a different way butttt I wrote it with the intention of reader being younger)

Enjoy this because I couldn’t sleep last night!

Rex

• He would definitely be the one everyone goes to for a post mission cuddle

• I mean can you blame them? How could you not feel safe in his arms??

• Rex is 100% the one that would trace small patterns over your arms or back to help you both sleep

• He sleeps wherever as long as you stayed asleep and were comfortable- losing feeling in his arm? That doesn’t matter

• His arm is like a weighted blanket around anyone that he shares a bunk with, it doesn’t matter who it is he has to be holding them tightly

Cody

• I think Cody is the type to wrap his entire being and soul around whoever he’s sleeping with

• He just gets so close and it’s not even his fault because he’s asleep

• Would be the person to nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck, and vise versa

• Definitely the big spoon but occasionally will switch

• If you are in the same bunk as Cody I think you would start off barely touching but by morning it would be like you were stuck together.

Fives

• Fives is a complete starfish in his bunk and will take up as much room as he can

• However of course if you do ask to bunk with him he would definitely move over, but don’t be surprised if a leg or arm invades your space in the middle of the night

• If you struggle with falling asleep or nightmares I think he would be a verbal comforter and would whisper things in the dark

• His head would probably rest somewhere on your stomach or on your back

• He honestly loves when there is someone else in his bunk with him and can’t remember the last time there wasn’t

Echo

• Sleeps on his back like he was trained too

• You would just show up one night a snuggle right into his side melting into his stiff shape

• Over the course of a few minutes, whether he his conscious or not he will turn more and more ‘out of regulation’ until he has you in his hold

• He definitely holds you so that his chin can rest perfectly on the top of your head

• He practically radiates heat and it feels so nice on cold campaigns

• After joining the bad batch you found that’s it’s much better for the both of you if you just sleep in each others embrace

Hardcase

• Snores like an absolute freight train

• He use to be a very heavy sleeper but after the events of Umbara Hardcase feels a lot better if your in his bunk too

•He will absolutely be the big spoon and will put his head on your shoulder and by your neck

• Ok but just imagine Hardcase’s bed full of stuff animals- if that’s not the cutest thing then idk what is

• they are all named and he would definitely give you one to cuddle with along with him

• Loves when you trace over his tattoos, it puts him right to sleep

Kix

• Kix doesn’t get enough sleep as is, but using the excuse that if he lays with you you’ll go to sleep too

• You can practically feel how exhausted he his with his tense muscles when he lays down

• In this case he is definitely the little spoon. With everything this he deals with being a medic it’s the least he deserves

• You love making up funny stories to try and soothe each other as you both lay there together

• Kix definitely sleeps with some sort of white noise to try and drown his racing thoughts

Wolffe

• He would protest a little bit saying that he likes his personal space, but my boy is so touched deprived and will think that this is the highest form of trust

• It’s like sleeping with a warm weighted blanket

• Wolffe would be that person that wouldn’t really fall asleep until he knew you were alright

• He would definitely be a head scratcher because of all the times that Plo Koon has done it for him

• Wolffe wouldn’t tell anyone really if his padawan stayed in his bunk or not but everyone could definitely tell by his attitude and that there are no bags under either of your eyes

Fox

• 100% the small spoon. I will fight you on this one don’t try me, I believe this with my whole heart

• Just to be held like that He would pass away

• Following the same theme I think he would grumble about it and not really want to give up some space in HIS bed to you

• He completely melts into your touch and will find a way to get closer and closer to you

• Fox would definitely sleep in the fetal position

• I think he would be one of those people that wouldn’t get nightmares if someone held him tight enough and I stand by that

_____________________________________

There will be a part 2 to this with the bad batch and others!

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @pb-jellybeans @padawancat97 @floffytofu

#star wars clone wars #star wars #the clone boys #the clone wars #clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #clone boys #captain rex #commander cody x reader #fives x you #echo x you #hardcase #captain rex x reader #commander fox x reader #reader insert #clone medic kix

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ireadwithmyears · 5 months

Text

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

pairing: Kix and GN padawan reader (platonic)

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

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

summary:

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

Also known as

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

“Look what I found on my bunk.”

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

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

Mandatory vaccination updates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Success,” you think to yourself triumphantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

One look at his expression, and your stomach flips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kaysh Mirsh solus,” he mutters to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he hears you, and it breaks him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He fixes you with a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And because you’re you, you do faint.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was easy, quick, painless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds simple enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him with curiosity, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your leg hurts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without prompting, you find yourself bursting into tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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