That's officially a wrap on May01st! In total, we had 115 submissions featuring a variety of of our favorite members! We want to thank everyone for participating whether you submitted your own work or showed your love and support to those who did!
Below, we have all our participants, their masterposts, and also the tag to find all their respective reblogs:
If you liked any of the works they made, go support them!
Rules and Guidelines ⁕ Prompt List ⁕ Q&A Tag ⁕ AO3 Collection ⁕ Banners ⁕ Tags
@aknightreaderr @archivewriter1ont @maybe-some-words @w31rd0-art1st @lonewolflupe @tealmisthams @gars-weaponeer @alor-ika @snarkyfina
(If you would like to be added to our taglist for announcements, let us know!)
To conclude this wonderful event, we have a message from our mod:
Hi May01st Participants!
From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank everyone for participating. Whether you submitted one piece, seven, made new works, reblogged old ones, shared as many submissions as possible, or lurked, it wouldn't have been possible without you! This is my first time hosting a fandom event, and part of me was worried it would fall short, but seeing all the notifications on the first day really made me smile! :)
I tried my best to go through every single entry over the past two weeks, and I'm still amazed by the work of everyone. My goal for this event was to celebrate some of my favorite characters with the fandom, and everyone sure did deliver! I love the uplifting and support from the community, and I hope you continue to maintain the positivity!
Until next time!
Mod Ting <3
This event has been a great excuse to write some more pieces about the boys in blue - a group I have been neglecting lately. To celebrate the end of the week, here are a couple of my favourite past 501st works.
All fics are gen-rated, and all varying degrees of angst (although a couple of fix-its). In approximately chronological order:
1. Wave, I Can See You | 550w | Umbara fix-it | OC: Keys
501st brothers line the ridge, ready to spring their trap. Figures in 212th gold creep through the trees, Flick’s familiar paint bright in the gloom. Keys can’t believe that the Umbarans stole his batchmate's armour, it feels wrong on so many levels.
2. Missing you at my side | 100w | AU | Fives & Echo
When clones die, they haunt those they were closest to. So where is Echo? Why is Fives alone?
3. Just An Echo | 250w | Echo & Fives
Echo is hurt in a cave-in, but at least Fives is there with him. ...isn't he?
4. Memories Caught in Amber | 100w | post-O66 | Rex & Fives & Echo & Cody
When Rex looks at their smiles together in the holo, it is hard to believe it was taken only two years ago. He feels the weight of every day since.
5. Out of Time | 100w | Crimson Corsair-era | Kix
Kix is used to working to deadlines: completing training sims, saving his brothers' lives... unravelling the mstery of the chips. He is used to failing too. But this time he missed not just the deadline, but also the aftermath, the rebuilding. How does he cope when he has missed his most important deadline by 50 years?
After three years of war, almost every Jedi has Fallen - and had to be Caught - a least once. Anakin himself has Fallen often enough that the process of his troopers drawing him back to the light is now familiar routine. Familiar enough that he notices when they don't. Familiar enough that he recognises the neccesity of saving himself to save them.
But somehow he usually seems to be the on-duty medic when Jesse slinks into the medbay, sheepishly requesting bacta and bandages as he recounts whatever grand idea backfired this time.
Eventually, he starts seeking Jesse out. Joins him and his co-conspirators - Hardcase, Echo and Fives.
He says it’s because prevention is the best cure, that he wants to be there for when they inevitably get more severely hurt.
What he doesn’t say, is that if he’s going to patch them up afterwards anyway, he wants to be there to enjoy the shenanigans too damnit!
With today being the final day of the event, we want to remind everyone that we will continue to reblog submissions and keep the AO3 collection open until May 14th!
Our blog will undergo some clean up for easy navigation leading up to the day. If you'd like to create and send us your masterpost for this event, we'll feature it in our final post! Tag us or send us the link directly, so we see and can feature it! Otherwise, we'll see you in a week when submissions close!
Additionally, we want to thank everyone for participating in May01st! We wouldn't have done it without you!
Rules and Guidelines ⁕ Prompt List ⁕ Q&A Tag ⁕ AO3 Collection ⁕ Banners
@aknightreaderr @archivewriter1ont @maybe-some-words @w31rd0-art1st @lonewolflupe @tealmisthams @gars-weaponeer @alor-ika @snarkyfina
(If you would like to be added to our taglist for announcements, let us know!)
Summary: Growing up training to be a Jedi, dating was something that Ahsoka was never able to do. She didn't need a relationship, but she had to admit she wanted to experience going out on a date once in her life. When she accidentally admits this to her friends, Fives steps up and offers to take her out. They're both certain that going out together once won't affect their friendship and Ahsoka will be able to get the experience she's hoping for. Of course, things don’t go quite as planned.
Read HERE on AO3!
This is one of the few fics I’ve written that isn’t teeming with angst. For once, we get to be in a nice everything-is-mostly-fine-and-they’re-all-mostly-happy AU. Enjoy! 💙🧡
for the last day of @may01st i wanna share the full banner illustration without the text! this was one of my favorite things i've drawn recently for how much personality i was able to pack into it :D
i love how it came out and i think it's better than the new years illustration i did! that's what 5 months of drawing most the same thing does baybeeee XD (but how did drawing 12 characters take the same time as 21...)
also process shots below since i forgot to record the sketching and lining process...
rough sketch! it's so messy to the point of me needing to write their names above their heads for me to tell who's who XD
clean sketch!
line art!
flats! (from this step on i was working in csp rather than procreate)
coloring and finishes timelapse because i only remembered to hit record here :P
and since you made it this far here's the rough sketch for the original banner idea before i scrapped it because i didn't like it and the aspect ratio was wrong
Author's Note: Last day of @may01st! I originally was just going to repost an old work with new art, but then I felt like their little vignette series before Rex left again needed a conclusion... so this is just that. If you are new to their story, they exist within @leenathegreengirl's PabuAU, Tagged below I have my masterlist where their story is listed in order, as well as the previous section. Art, as always is by @leenathegreengirl. So glad to have participated in this event! Thanks for hosting!💙
Also: This chapter features a bit of a post I saw HERE, from @fandom-blackhole! Thank you for the lovely inspo darling and thank you again for letting me include in my story!
Summary: Rex finally prepares to leave Pabu, and the weight of all the changes he's come to realize press upon his chest much harsher than anticipated
Word Count: 4.7k+
Warnings: some kissing, mentioning hardships of being a solider, mentions of casual semi nudity
Rating: SFW (with some kissing)
Masterlist | Previous
Rex woke early, the weight of the coming day already pressing on his chest. The decision had been made the night before—discussed quietly under dim lights and hushed tones. Howzer had asked for his help with a major breach at a Zygerrian facility they’d finally gotten a lead on, and Rex knew there was no real way to say no. He was the only one with firsthand experience inside a similar compound, and that made him indispensable, whether he liked it or not.
Mae had taken the news with grace, offering him her quiet support. “I understand,” she’d said, her voice calm but soft with unspoken sadness. He’d nodded, appreciating her strength. But that didn’t make the morning any easier.
When the sun finally began to rise, dread coiled in his gut like a live wire. He had never felt this way before. Deployment had always come with a sense of duty, sometimes urgency, but never this. Never hesitation. Never the sick twist of wanting, just once, to stay.
This time, it wasn’t the mission that unsettled him—it was the parting.
The warmth of the bed was a tether he didn’t want to break. Mae’s body was curled against his, their limbs naturally entangled, as if even in sleep she was trying to keep him close. Slipping away felt like betrayal. He moved slowly, careful not to wake her, but she stirred anyway. He brushed the curls from her face and whispered for her to go back to sleep. She mumbled something incoherent and nuzzled into the pillow.
Rex paused, just watching her for a moment.
Leaving had never been this hard.
With a quiet sigh, he finally stood, steeling himself. This was going to be more difficult than he ever could have imagined.
The door whispered shut behind him as he stepped into the fresher, the soft click of it closing sounding far louder in the quiet. He stood still for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The man looking back at him was familiar, but there was something in his eyes he hadn’t seen before. A kind of weariness that went deeper than exhaustion—more like the slow erosion of something once solid.
He ran a hand over the top of his head, then turned on the faucet. The sound of water hitting tile was immediate and comforting, steam already beginning to cloud the glass.
As he stepped in, the heat enveloped him, sinking into muscle and bone. For a moment, he let his head fall forward, hands braced against the wall. The water rolled down his back like it was trying to wash away the weight of the morning, of the decision, of Mae’s sleeping face burned into his memory.
He had never hesitated to leave before. Orders were orders, and he carried them out. Missions gave him purpose. Direction. A reason to keep moving when everything else had been stripped away. But this time, it wasn’t a matter of orders. It was a choice—his choice—and that made it infinitely heavier.
The steam blurred the edges of the room, made everything feel distant, dreamlike. Here, in this pocket of warmth, he allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability. He didn’t have to be the Captain right now. He didn’t have to be anything but a man trying to make sense of something he didn’t have the tools to fix.
Mae had said she understood, and maybe she did. But understanding didn’t mean it hurt any less—not for her, and not for him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water pour over his face. It was a temporary comfort, a fragile illusion of peace before the cold reality of duty pulled him back under. But for now, it was enough.
Eventually, the water began to cool, and the illusion faded with it. Rex shut off the flow, standing in the sudden silence as droplets clung to his skin and steam drifted around him like smoke. He grabbed a towel and ran it over his face and shoulders, then stepped out onto the cool tile floor, each movement slow, deliberate—like his body was reluctant to go through the motions.
The mirror was fogged, his reflection a smudge in the haze. He wiped it clean with the heel of his hand, leaving a streaked oval of clarity. What stared back at him was still himself… but different.
He leaned in slightly. The beard—if it could even be called that—was more than stubble now, but just barely. Coarse and dark against his tan skin, it framed his jaw in sharp contrast to the lighter hair on his head. It was the first time in his life he’d let something like this grow. Regulation frowned upon it, and before Mae, he’d never had a reason to wonder what it might look like. But here, in the quiet comfort of her home, where there were no helmets or no squads to report to—he’d simply let it be.
Now, standing here, he hated what it meant to shave it off.
It wasn’t vanity. It was the loss of something intangible. The beard was a marker—small, maybe even trivial—but it had been his. A quiet rebellion. A sign that he’d stepped outside the skin of Captain and into something closer to just… a man. Mae’s man. The one who helped her cook dinner, who fell asleep with her hand resting on his chest, who laughed—really laughed—for the first time in years.
His hand hovered over the razor.
He didn’t want to let it go. But the mission didn’t care who he was without the armor. Out there, no one would even see his face. And he couldn’t afford to carry hesitation with him—not in the field. Not if it puts anyone in danger.
Rex drew a long breath and reached for the shaving cream, spreading the cool foam across his jaw with practiced fingers. The scent was clean, neutral—too sharp, too sterile. It didn’t belong to this version of himself.
As he dragged the blade across his cheek, the rasping sound filled the space between heartbeats. Hair vanished, revealing bare skin beneath. He moved slowly, methodically, as though each pass of the razor was peeling away something more than hair. Like he was stripping off the quiet mornings, the softness in Mae’s eyes, the way she touched his face like it was something to be cherished.
He rinsed the blade. Another stroke. Another piece of that other life gone.
When it was done, he rinsed his face and looked up again.
The man in the mirror looked familiar now—clean-shaven, sharp-jawed, every inch the soldier he'd been bred to be. But something was missing, and he knew it.
He toweled off the last of the water, then turned away from the mirror without a second glance.
Rex stepped out of the fresher, towel slung around his waist, the chill of the room a stark contrast to the fading warmth of the shower. He instinctively glanced toward the bed—but it was empty now. The blankets were tossed back, the space where Mae had slept already cooling.
He paused, listening.
Soft sounds filtered in from beyond the bedroom—muffled footsteps, the faint clink of ceramic, the low hum of the caf machine sputtering to life. A small, familiar ritual.
He followed the scent of brewing caf into the kitchen, where the early morning light was just beginning to stretch across the countertops. Mae stood in her robe, barefoot, curls still messy from sleep as she moved slowly, methodically, setting out two mugs. One hand cradled her own cup while the other reached for the carafe.
Rex leaned in the doorway, watching her for a moment before speaking. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
She looked over her shoulder, a smile curving gently across her face—tired, but real. “You didn’t.”
He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms loosely. “Then why are you up?”
Mae turned back to the mugs, pouring steaming caf into both. “Because I wasn’t about to miss the chance to have a cup with you before you left.”
Something in Rex’s chest pulled tight.
She said it so simply, like it was obvious. Like waking up early and standing in the kitchen while the world outside was still gray was a small price to pay for a moment together. And maybe it was. But to him, it felt like more.
He stepped forward and took the mug she offered, their fingers brushing for a brief second. He hadn’t realized how cold his hands were until they touched hers.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
Mae took a sip from her own cup, then leaned back against the counter, eyes on him. Her gaze lingered on his face, studying the newly bare jaw, and something in her expression flickered—regret, maybe. Or just recognition of what it meant.
“You shaved.”
“Yeah,” Rex murmured, glancing down at his caf.
She nodded, understanding, but the silence that settled between them was laced with the weight of unspoken things. They sat in silence at the bar, the soft hum of the caf machine winding down behind them. The steam rising from their mugs curled lazily into the air, fading just like the last remnants of sleep still clinging to the edges of their thoughts.
Neither of them spoke. There wasn’t anything new to say—not really. All the important things had already been spoken in whispers the night before, in the quiet look they’d shared before falling asleep, in the stillness of her reaching for his hand under the covers.
Now, with the morning here, words felt too thin to carry the weight of what lingered between them.
Mae next to him, hands wrapped around her mug, her eyes flickering between the table and his face like she was searching for something she wouldn’t quite let herself ask for. Rex took a slow sip of his caf, then set the mug down with a soft clink, his gaze fixed on her—not the whole of her, just the small things. The way her fingers tapped quietly against the ceramic. The delicate curve of her neck where the robe had slipped just slightly. The way the morning light turned her curls into gold at the edges instead of the normal copper.
His chest ached.
He reached out, hand brushing against her knee before tugging gently.
“Come here,” he said, voice low, almost rough.
She blinked once, surprised, but then moved without hesitation. She slid into his lap, fitting against him like she belonged there, her knees tucking against his hips, arms draping over his shoulders. Rex wrapped his arms around her waist and let out a slow, steadying sigh, pressing his face into the crook of her neck.
For a moment, everything else disappeared—the mission, the unexpected weight, the armor waiting in the other room. There was only her warmth, the smell of her skin, the quiet thump of her heartbeat against his chest.
Mae ran her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, the gesture slow and grounding. “You okay?” she asked softly, though they both knew the answer didn’t matter as much as the asking.
Rex didn’t answer right away. He just held her closer.
“No,” he finally murmured, not quite into her ear, but close. “But I will be.”
Rex held her like he was trying to memorize the shape of her. One arm wrapped securely around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head, his fingers threading gently into her curls. Her weight in his lap grounded him—real, warm, steady—while everything else felt like it was already pulling away. His cheek rested against her shoulder, eyes closed, breathing her in like he could somehow take part of her with him.
Neither of them moved. Time stretched, soft and fragile, the world outside their little kitchen forgotten for just a few more moments. He didn’t want to break it.
But eventually, he did. Because he had to.
“I hate this part,” he murmured, his voice quiet, worn at the edges. “Leaving. Knowing what it does to you. To me.”
Mae said nothing at first, just smoothed her hand along his shoulder, down his back, like she could press comfort into him through touch alone.
“I know,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard. “It was easier when I didn’t have anything to come back to. When I didn’t know what I’d be missing.”
Mae shifted slightly in his lap, just enough to lean back and look at him—really look at him. Her hand lingered at the back of his neck, her fingers still tracing gentle circles into his skin.
Her voice was soft, but it cut straight through him. “What will you be missing, Rex?”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked downward, then to the side, as if the question had hit a place inside him he hadn’t dared to look too closely at himself.
She didn’t push. She just waited. His throat worked around the words before they came out, rough and quiet. “You. This,” he said. “The mornings. Waking up and knowing I don’t have to be anything except yours.”
Mae’s breath caught slightly, but she stayed quiet, letting him keep going.
“I will miss the way you look at me when I say something stupid and you pretend not to smile,” he said, eyes finally lifting to meet hers. “I will miss hearing you hum in the kitchen when you think I’m not paying attention. The way you pull your robe tighter when you’re cold but refuse to admit it.”
A small smile ghosted across her lips at that, but her eyes shimmered.
“I will miss sleeping without a blaster under the pillow,” Rex continued, voice thickening. “I will miss quiet. I will miss peace. But most of all…” He trailed off, jaw clenching for a beat before the words forced their way out.
“But most of all…” he trailed off, his jaw tightening, breath catching as the words struggled to come. “I’ll miss the way I feel when I’m with you,” he said finally, voice low and raw. “Like I’m more than what they made me to be. Like I’m not just a soldier waiting for the next mission. I’ll miss feeling like I belong somewhere… like I belong to someone.”
Mae’s lips parted, but no words came. Her eyes shimmered, full of emotion that mirrored his own—too much to say, and no time left to say it all. Rex let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Being with you makes me feel human,” he said. “I didn’t even know how much I could miss something like that… until I had it.”
Mae didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.
The moment stretched between them—full of everything they hadn’t said, everything they couldn’t say. Then she moved, not slowly, not hesitantly, but with purpose. She set her caf down on the table with barely a sound, then wrapped her arms around him and buried herself in his chest like she could anchor him there, if only for a little while longer.
Rex held her like he’d never let go.
One arm came up around her shoulders, the other tightened around her waist, pulling her in until there was no space left between them. He pressed his face into her hair, breathing her in—cinnamon, caf, sleep. Home.
His eyes burned, and he squeezed them shut.
Mae’s fingers curled into his back, her grip steady, like she could feel the tremble in him he wouldn’t let show. He was always strong—always calm, always composed—but right now, here in her arms, he didn’t have to be.
He could just be hers.
Her hand slid up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into the short hair there again, slow and soothing. She didn’t speak. She just held him like she was afraid to forget how, like the shape of him in her arms was something she’d need to remember in the days ahead.
And Rex, for all his strength, for all the weight he carried out there in the galaxy, just stayed wrapped in her, unmoving, because this—this—was the only place he ever truly felt like he was more than a number, more than a military asset, more than a soldier.
Eventually, he whispered into the curve of her shoulder, voice barely audible.
“I don’t want to go.”
Mae’s arms tightened around him. “I know.”
They stayed like that, holding on to the moment like it could stretch forever—even though they both knew it couldn’t.
Mae pulled back just enough to look at him, one hand still resting on his chest, over his heart. Her eyes searched his face, seeing all the lines that had deepened since they’d met. The clean-shaven jaw. The eyes that had seen too much. The soldier, and the man beneath him, both worn thin.
She didn’t speak. She just kissed him—slow, soft, deliberate. A promise in silence.
When she pulled back, her forehead rested against his. “Come back to me.”
Rex closed his eyes again. “I will.”
But even as he said it, he knew the unspoken truth hung between them: not every promise could be kept. Not in his world.
The resolve in him burned brighter now, clearer than it ever had before. He’d fight tooth and nail if it meant coming back to her. Rex had never quite understood what Cut had meant that night on Salcumi when he’d said he’d fight with his last breath to protect his children. Rex could’ve echoed that sentiment without a second thought, when it came to his brothers, Ahsoka, or even Anakin. But here, in this kitchen, holding Mae in his arms, he finally understood. He’d fight to come back to her, with every last ounce of strength he had.
And that knowledge—it made the ache in his chest almost unbearable.
Mae let the silence linger a moment longer, her hands still resting on his chest, her forehead pressed to his. Then, with a quiet breath and a small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips, she leaned back just enough to meet his eyes.
“You should probably get dressed,” she murmured, voice soft but teasing. “Howzer likely doesn’t want to see all this… even if I enjoy you practically nude in my kitchen.”
Rex huffed a short laugh, a breath of real warmth cutting through the heaviness. “You’re assuming he hasn’t already,” he muttered dryly.
Mae let out a soft, amused scoff and gave him a light push on the shoulder—not enough to move him, just enough to make her point.
“Well, if he has, I hope he was polite enough to avert his eyes,” she said, tilting her head with mock severity. “This view’s supposed to be exclusive.”
Rex smirked, hands still resting on her hips. “A little different when we are all clones, Doll.”
Mae gave him a dry look. “Semantics”
That earned a fuller laugh from him—quiet, low, but real. He rested his forehead briefly against hers again, the sound fading into a sigh.
“I should go get dressed,” he murmured, less as a statement and more like he was reminding himself aloud.
She nodded, though her arms didn’t move away from him. “Yeah,” she whispered. “You should.”
But neither of them moved, suspended in that small, fragile stillness where time hadn’t caught up with them yet. Her thumb traced an absent path over his chest, and he held her like letting go would break something he couldn’t fix.
Finally, she leaned in and kissed him again—just once, slow and deep, like a breath drawn from the very center of her. When she pulled back, her voice was quiet, a little steadier now.
“I’ll make you a second cup,” she said. “Something to take with you.”
Rex nodded, reluctant but grateful. He gently lifted her off his lap, easing her down with care before standing. She caught his hand briefly as he turned to leave, just for a moment, her fingers curling around his like a silent tether.
He squeezed once. Then let go.
Rex padded back through the hallway, the warmth of Mae’s touch still lingering on his skin like an afterglow. The house was dim in the early light, shadows stretched long across the floor, soft and familiar. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like a lifetime lived inside these walls—quiet mornings, soft laughter, shared silence.
He dressed slowly. Not out of hesitation, exactly, but with the sort of care that came with knowing each piece of armor, each fastening, was another step further away from her. From them.
The undersuit was folded neatly on the chair where he’d left it the night before. He pulled it on, the fabric cold against skin that still held the memory of her hands. His body moved with practiced ease—years of repetition had carved the motions into his muscles—but the weight of the armor felt heavier this morning. Not physically. Just… heavier.
Piece by piece, Rex reassembled himself.
Greaves first, then knee guards, locking each one into place with a familiar click-hiss that echoed too sharply in the stillness of Mae’s home. Then his thigh armor, vambraces, gloves, each one closing over skin that still felt too exposed—too human.
The motions were second nature by now. He could’ve done them blindfolded. But today, he moved deliberately. Slowly. As though rushing would shatter the fragile quiet still holding this morning together.
He saved the cuirass for last.
The chestplate waited at the edge of the bed, newly repainted—clean white broken by the bold blue markings of his old battalion. A few days ago, he and Mae had sat cross-legged on the floor with brushes and rags, the scent of paint sharp in the air, her foot occasionally nudging his when she thought he was getting too serious. He’d caught her watching him once—eyes soft, like she was memorizing the way he looked in the lamplight.
He lifted the cuirass now, ready to slide it into place—but then paused.
There. Just on the inside edge, near the right shoulder strap. A faint mark—barely visible unless the light hit it just right. A smudge of deep red, shaped unmistakably like a kiss.
He blinked.
It wasn’t there by accident.
It was small. Deliberate. Hidden just enough that no one else would notice unless they looked for it. A single pressed-lip print in paint. Mae’s lips, if he had to guess—no, knew. Probably left when he wasn’t looking. Maybe when he stepped out to wash the brushes, or turned away to rinse his hands.
Rex stared at it for a moment, something sharp and warm catching in his chest. It wasn’t the mark itself that undid him. It was what it meant.
A claim. A reminder. A quiet, defiant act of love etched into the armor meant to protect him.
He ran his thumb over it once, not to wipe it away, but just to feel it. Then he drew in a slow breath and finally fastened the chestplate into place, sealing it over his ribs like a promise.
He stood fully dressed now—every piece of armor secured, every familiar weight returned to his frame.
But under all of it, beneath the plastoid and the paint, he still carried a piece of her.
Boots echoing softly against the floor, Rex made his way back through the house. Each step felt heavier now—not from the weight of his armor, but from the ache of leaving something he didn’t want to let go of.
Mae was at the counter, back turned, pouring the second cup of caf she’d promised him. She’d changed out of her robe into a simple shirt and soft pants, her curls pulled loosely back. She looked… grounded. Like home.
She turned at the sound of his approach, and her eyes scanned him from head to toe. Not with the appraising look of a commander checking a soldier—but something gentler. Something that saw through the armor instead of around it.
“Well, don’t you look dashing,” she said softly, setting the caf down and walking toward him. Her hands slid up his arms, pausing at the ridged seams of his biceps, then resting lightly over the center of his chestplate—right over where the kiss was hidden. “My soldier,” she murmured, not with pride or possession, but with affection so deep it rooted in his bones.
He exhaled slowly. Her words shouldn’t have meant so much—but they did. Not because they reminded him of what he was, but because they reminded him of who he was, to her.
His hands came up to cup her face, thumbs brushing beneath her eyes, and for a moment neither of them spoke. The silence was full, not empty—overflowing with everything they wanted to say but didn’t have to. “I wish I could give you something more,” he said finally, voice rough. “Something better than a man who is always going to be walking out that door.”
Mae shook her head gently, a tear slipping free though her smile never wavered. “You already did,” she whispered. “You gave me you. That’s enough.”
Rex leaned in and kissed her—slow, reverent, like a prayer whispered between breaths. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, but full of all the things he couldn’t fit into words. The weight of goodbye. The ache of love too big for a chaotic world. The quiet vow that, no matter how far he went, some part of him would always belong to her.
His lips moved against hers with a gentleness that belied the strength in him, hands cradling her face as though she were something sacred. And in that kiss, he gave her everything—his heart, his longing, his promise to return.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t go far. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in, grounding himself in her presence. His armor cool from the morning air, pressed lightly against the thin fabric of her shirt, a sharp contrast to the steady heat radiating off her skin.
She didn’t seem to mind. Her hands slipped up along his chest plate until they curled around the back of his neck, pulling him just a fraction closer, as if that could slow time itself. Their breath mingled in the narrow space between them, neither one ready to be the first to let go.
“I love you,” he whispered, too focused on the thumping in his chest to hear if she said it back.
“Don’t wait up,” he murmured, trying to make it sound lighter than it felt.
Mae’s hands trailed down his arms, fingers lingering at his wrists before slipping away as he stepped back. “I will anyway,” she said quietly, her voice threaded with both defiance and devotion.
He hesitated—just one breath, just one beat longer than he should have—and then finally turned, footsteps heavy with the weight of parting. Mae followed him to the door, her steps soft, her presence steady. She didn’t reach for him. Didn’t try to stop him. She didn’t need to.
When his hand touched the door panel, he paused, something pulling at him like gravity. He glanced back over his shoulder.
She stood framed in the early light, curls soft around her face, arms wrapped around herself not for warmth—but to keep her heart from spilling out onto the floor. The sight of her nearly undid him. The woman who saw through the armor. The woman who loved not the soldier, but the man beneath him.
And still—she was more than that. More than a place to return to. More than warmth and caf and soft mornings. In his eyes, she was his commanding star. His center. The person he served now in every way that mattered.
"Come home," she demanded, voice unwavering.
So Rex straightened. And then, with all the formality of a man before his superior—but none of the informality—he lifted his hand to his brow and gave her a crisp, reverent salute.
Not as a soldier to a general. But as a man to the one he loved without question. As if to say: Everything I am, everything I do, is yours.
Mae’s breath hitched, one hand lifting slowly to her lips as her eyes brimmed. Rex held the salute for a moment longer, then let his hand fall. His voice was low, rough around the edges, but unwavering.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
And with that, he turned, stepped through the door, and disappeared into the cold morning light—her kiss beneath his armor, and her name etched into the rhythm of his heartbeat.
May01st | @may01st | Day 7: Tattoos (Free Day) with Dogma
Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7
Today's the last day of May01st, and I filled today's free prompt with Tattoos! After entries featuring Rex, Vaughn, Fives, Echo, Jesse, Kix, Hardcase and Tup, I obviously needed to get Dogma in as well.
And to be fair, I really struggled with his haircut haha. But I'm glad I pushed through, because I needed him to have a moment to shine as well. I mostly regret having to draw Kix's tattoo like this, but it is what it is.
I'm gonna try to create a little masterlist for this, so stay tuned for more ramblings about our 501st boys and this event (:
As a free day I want to share the discarded draws, also because they will be forgotten in my ipad
It's a long thing
The first is almost a complete draw of Kix when he got unfrozen and discovered to be 50 years in the future and everything he known is gone, he's psychologically wounded
The second is a one page comic-like of Jesse and Hardcase, they discovered Rex had his own jet and Hardcase drag Jesse to the airfield for a fly
Of curse they asked permission
Was fitting the new experience prompt but then I thought the downtime prompt was fitting better
Rex's jet isn't his arc 170, consider it as its little brother, more close to a military jet like an F35 or a Tomcat, a personal project you may never see 👀
Last one is unfinished, supposed to be two page comic-like for the Alternate Universe
Fives is passing by with his horse, then noticing Echo curved at 90 degree, he's cleaning his horse front hoove, Fives got a silly idea
Fives approach Echo carefully with a tiptoe walk, his knees rises high at each step, his back a bit curved forward, his arms in t-rex pose, Echo didn't notice anything but his horse did, the horse extend his neck to reach Fives and he lean to him to caress his muzzle and press a silent kiss in the middle of the horse nostrils, right then Fives look at Echo still curved and place a loud slap on his butt, Echo's horse flinched at the sound and Echo raises yelling "HEY!" while turning his head back, what he sees was Fives running away laughing hard dragging his horse with him, Echo menaced him with his scomp arm now turned in a hoves clean tool.
You can see Fives's horse here
For Echo I didn't share anything at the moment but is just a matter of time, his horse is a gelding or a stallion, still deciding, in a dunskin going grey color, almost white, yep
Ever since the widespread phenomenon in which a primordial ocean deity of the Force announced her existence to every single clone cadets of Kamino, the longnecks are sure occupied as kark to study it, but of course, the clones never care more with their interrogative intervention. Six-Seven needs to be careful since his dreams are different. While the others dream of raging waves and a bellowing voice, Six-Seven dreams of a warm tropical paradise and a quirky version of the very same goddess who's clearly trying to establish some sort of friendship bond with him, of all people.
Six-Seven can only wish his programming and loyalty to the cause won't slip, because she's been so kind to him, and his vode love and adore her, deniably dipping their toes in the religious pool.
He finds himself falling into the warm cushions that are all her, where at the same time he'll figure out her actual intentions. Soon, he'll also find that there's so much more behind sea green eyes, the upcoming galactic war, and the Force itself meddling in the future of the galaxy.
✧ Rating: Teen & Up Audiences, General
✧ Characters: Rex, OFC Force Goddess, Cody, Fox, Wolffe, etc.
✧ Series Tags & Warnings: hurt/comfort, childhood friends, romantic friendship, fluff, pre-star wars: the clone wars, clone cadets (training in kamino), very rex-centric, rex whump
✧ A/N: May I present my take on Cadet!Rex sort-of character study, featuring a primordial ocean deity of the Force and clone shenanigans, focusing on how his strict upbringing goes in and out between trainings, his brothers, and his dreams that it sends him reeling into good old identity crisis™. May I also add that this is to be a prologue to the canon divergence and Order 66 fix-it series I'm still working on. And I'm honestly torn whether to headbutt this pairing into the chasm of eventual sickly-sweet romance like one of those either whimsical or wonderfully twisted Greek myth love stories. Enjoy!
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen | eighteen | nineteen | twenty | twenty-one | twenty-two
Status: Finished ✧ Read on AO3 ✧ Spotify Playlist
Author's Pinned Post ✧ Join Taglist ✧ Clone x Reader Masterlist
Summary: Firefly x Clone Wars mashup. A couple of scenes from the Shindig episode.
Words: 678
Warnings: blood, sword fight, stabbing, Rex might be a tad OOC
Read on AO3
For May01st Week hosted by @may01st
A/N: I so want to write this crossover. It’s been in my WIP folder for years. But this is the farthest I’ve gotten in writing it, apart from creating a beat sheet for some of the episodes, and mapping out which characters and planets are which.
**********
Rex paced around his room, mentally berating himself for going after Clovis.
He’d known better. Known Padmé could take care of herself. Rex had been on the receiving end of her right hook during sparring. But to see Clovis treating one of his crew like an object . . . like a possession. Well, Rex had seen red and that was the end of that.
Rex was pretty sure he could handle himself in a sword fight. He’d served under General Skywalker in the 501st Overlanders after all, and the general had been a master of the saber. Had taught Rex well enough so they could spar from time to time, to keep in practice.
There was a knock at the door, and Padmé stepped inside before Rex could even call a greeting.
“You are an idiot,” she said placing a cloth wrapped bundle on the chest at the foot of the bed.
“I know,” Rex said ruefully.
“I could have handled Rush. Why did you have to go and punch him?”
Rex scrubbed his hands over his short hair. “I’m sorry, Padmé. I just—”
“You’re an idiot,” Padmé repeated.
“Yeah.” Rex sighed.
Padmé shook her head and a fond smile bloomed on her face. “Well, lucky for you, the name Amidala still holds some clout. And so does the family purse. I was able to bribe a couple of guards into looking the other way while you get out.”
“No,” Rex said, shaking his head. “I have to duel Clovis. Lord Farr won’t give us the contract otherwise. Something about wanting to see how far I’ll go to protect his interests.”
“For the Force’s sake, Rex, stow your ego for once. We don’t need work badly enough that you have to risk your life.”
“And what are you going to do when we run out of food or fuel?” Rex snapped. “Stand in the market on Tatooine and flutter your eyelashes?”
He regretted it as soon as he said it. Saw the hurt flash in Padmé’s eyes. If it came down to it, Rex knew Padmé would use her formidable slicing skills to pinch a few credits from her family’s accounts to keep Serenity and her crew going if necessary, even though Rex would never ask that of her.
“Padmé . . . I’m sorry,” Rex started, taking a step toward her.
“You always were stubborn,” Padmé muttered.
She twitched the cloth open on the bundle she’d brought in. Two sabers lay within. Padmé picked one up and tossed the other one to Rex, who caught it by the hilt.
Rex looked at the saber in Padmé’s hand. “What are you planning to do with that?”
“Make sure you don’t get killed tomorrow.”
“Padmé, I used to train with General Skywalker—”
“That was over six years ago, Captain. When was the last time you picked up a saber?”
Rex frowned. She had a point. But still . . . “I don’t recall ever seeing you with a saber either.”
“You don’t accompany me on my diplomatic duties.” Padmé gave him a grin that was mostly teeth. “I get a lot more practice than you think.”
* * *
“You have to finish him,” Lord Onaconda Farr said. “For a man to lay beaten, and still breathing . . . It makes him a coward.”
Rush Clovis glared up at Rex from where he lay on the ground; his hair disheveled, his face bloody.
“It’s a humiliation,” Padmé said, coming to stand next to Rex.
“It would be humiliating,” Rex said. “Having to lie there while the better man refuses to end your misery.” He looked over at Padmé. “Mercy is the mark of a great man.”
She smiled at him.
Rex turned back to Clovis . . . and stabbed him in the stomach. A match for the wound in his own belly. Nothing fatal, but painful. Rex did want the coward to live after all, if only as an example that Rex didn’t let anyone mistreat his crew.
“Guess I’m just a good man,” Rex said.
He heard Padmé snort, which she turned into a cough.
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