WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS WOMAN, MENTIONED DEATH OF A PARENT. SEX SCENE (NOT VERY EXPLICIT, MORE SENSUAL&SUGGESTIVE).
Note: This came out to be so long! Just so you have an idea, it's 30 pages of word doc. I'll divide it in chapters in this same post so you can continue with your reading easier if you need to do it in more than one go. Don't worry about the warnings, this is mostly adventure with fluff and just a tiny sprinkle of angst (happy ending and all). Upgraded Hunter to Captain. On another note, only 4 more prompts left for the 100celeb! Enjoy and please let me know what you've thought. Reblog if u can! XX, Blue :)
The stench of alcohol would have been overwhelming if you hadn't been living in this kind of atmosphere your whole life. It makes the air around you feel charged and warm; clinging to the old wood of the chairs, tables, and countertops alike. The crowd is loud and roars with fits of laughter; a fight or two breaking in the corner of the bar. You don't spare them a second glance. If you had been a proper lady, all of this might have scared you away; but no, you're no lady. You're a pirate.
You feel at home in places like this. There's drunk men, yes, and dangerous ones; but you've never felt more alive than surrounded by fellow pirates. There's freedom, banter, and songs so ancient everybody is able to sing along. Even the sporadic fights are a reminder that you're all human; that you get angry and make mistakes with consequences. Sometimes those in a position of power don't even look like one; just empty carcasses dolled up with pretty dresses and jewelry that somehow have learned how to move and talk. All practiced, meaningless smiles and repetitive conversation. This is nothing like it.
You're enjoying all of this while being alone and silent in the far end of the counter, perched up on one of the chairs. A patron or two have attempted a conversation with you tonight; though a quick, cold side glance has been enough to shoo them away. You're not a conversationalist; and you're on one of those melancholic moods today. Memories of your father and your youth fleets by your mind; like gusps of wind you can never catch. Still, even when distracted and lost in thoughts from a life time ago, a part of you is always vigilant; cataloguing changes in your surroundings and possible dangers. It's the reason why you hear the almost imperceptible change of the crowd straigthening their backs and their voices changing to a wary, expectant tone. Footsteps; a lazy, slow spring, light and cautious in it's feet. Ready to fight -or flee-.
You don't turn around to acknowledge the newcomer. For others it may seem like you don't even care for who approaches you or what could he want from you; perhaps it even makes you look arrogant and overconfident. But oh, you are paying attention; and even if your posture seems relaxed and nochalant with your back still facing the crowd âthe aproaching strangerâ the hand carefully positioned over the knife hidden in your left boot is perfectly ready to strike.
The footsteps come to a halt right behind you. The atmosphere in the bar turns tense. It must be someone of importance, to make the crowd react like that. If it weren't, people would have just continued laughing and drinking.
"You're hard to find".
Cryptic. It's a peculiar voice; you'll give him that. Deep and slightly raspy, though somehow smooth and warm at the same time. A bit of an incongruence. You know a lot about that.
You take a slow, long gulp of your whisky before answering; your index playing with the rim of the glass.
A hint of amusement slips into your answer. You can't help but play âjust enoughâ with danger; you've always been like that.
"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".
He hums, not impressed with your comeback. Your ears pick up the sound of the man dragging the closest chair towards you. The tone of his voice ârelaxed but quietly carefullâ doesn't change while he sits down.
"That would be a bit ironic, considering who I am".
You've played with the moment long enough. You glance at the man sitting next to you; eyes quickly cataloguing his hard facial features, long hair, strong shoulders and trim waist. With that half-tattoed face of his and the red bandana across his forehead, he's hard not to place.
"Ah" your lips turn up in a tiny smile. "Captain Hunter, famous treassure-seeker and leader of the misterious Marauder. Yes, that would be quite the joke".
You can't help but feel in danger âand curiousâ being this close to him. This man is one of the most well-known pirates on this side of the Five Seas; you'd grown up at the same time the stories of the Fett brothers had grown as well. They were said to be eight; along a longer list of cousins and other distant relatives. Some had tried to join their crew under the pretense of being one of them; but their physical similarities were a dead give away. If there was a Fett around you, you just knew. They had the same bone structure, a sort of sharpness to their features, and brown or amber eyes that rooted you in place. There was no need to question it.
You've watched members of the Fett family here and there âsome in bars you frequented, some walking across the harbor, a few even taking their pleasure with a lady in the protection of a dark alley at nightâ, but you've never once talked to one of them. There's always a first, you guess.
"To what do I owe the honor, then?" You ask, feigning desinterest though this is the most exciting thing that has happened to you in the last three months.
The pirate scans you in silence. You understand the flush the Fetts often pull from the ladies; he's got one hell of a stare. It takes all the years you have facing oponents for you to not squirm.
"I'm sure you've heard something around" he finally starts, his eyes turning to scan the crowd. "I'm planning to start a new adventure soon, all the way up to the North Sea. I'm looking for recruits".
You arch an eyebrow, not fooled by his vague explanation. You don't like when people do that on purpose; it means there's always things to hide.
"I thought you boys didn't let any stranger join your little family club" you answer, almost teasingly.
He looks back at you. He gives you a single word.
"Exactly".
It's heavy and full of meaning. He's pointing out you're no ordinary stranger; admiting that you're somewhat special. You're not gonna' lie; it strokes your ego a bit, even if you don't let that distract you.
"You need me" you realise with a smirk. That's the only reason he'd allowed you to join them. You must have something he can't find in nobody else. But what would that be? "Why?"
The pirate shrugs. So quiet, so misterious. You're intrigued.
"I hear you were born in Ionia. It would be useful, having a guide through the dangers of the North Sea. It's dangerous waters".
Your smirk widens.
"Mm, you've heard" you mock almost in a singing voice. "So you've studied me. Not many know I was born there. Ionia is too far away from here for anyone to cross-check".
Hunter's lips curve upwards in a faint smile.
"You're right with that. There are a lot of different and often oposite stories about you".
You hear the rest of the sentence even if he doesn't say it out loud; who knows which ones are true.
You fully turn your body towards him.
"And which one brought you to me?"
You'll say yes. He probably knows that too; you're not one to turn down a good adventure, and it would be a heck of one to be able to work with the Fetts.
You still want to have all the information before you accept.
"I admit all of them were pretty interesting" Hunter says, fingers tapping against the wood of the counter. "But there's only one that makes you unique".
It's involuntary; the way your face adjusts to a new proud and understanding smile.
"You need a diver" the puzzle slowly starts to make sense. "What treassure are you trying to find this time, Captain?"
Hunter's dark chocolate eyes sparkle with interest. He might be a feared pirate; but in his heart he's still a child dreaming of magic and fairytales, like all good pirates are. Like yourself.
"It's going to be a long journey. I need a diver that can hold their breath for at least twenty minutes underwater. There's only one place in the North Sea where I'd need a skill like that".
You find the last missing piece.
"The caves of Ilum" you realize, your own eyes brightening in wonder. "You're trying to find the Moon Kyber cristal".
It was your favorite story growing up; how a group of trained soldiers named "the Jedi" had learnt to canalyse the energy residing in a special mineral and used it to improve their fighting style. They were said to be extinguished âdecimated in a great war in the Old Timesâ, and that the last of their kind had hidden his Moon Kyber cristal somewhere in the cold North Sea, burried in one of the Ilum caves. Pirates and sailors had tried to find it for centuries, desperate to fill their pockets with money or their hands with power; others, for the simple pleasure of owning a piece of history. But the Moon Kyber had never been found; soon forgotten in memories and often brushed aside as tales.
"And you're what, going to send me to explore each posible underwater cave you find?" You ask, wary about the execution of his plan.
He remains calm and unbothered.
"We could try it that way, but it would take us a bit too long for my taste. I've already done my work and I know exactly where to navigate" before you've had the chance to ask, he's already sending you a warning glance. "And I'm obviously not telling you. Can't risk you trying to get it on your own or giving the information to someone else".
You sigh in resignation.
"You want me to make a blind jump. To trust you. That all of this is true and I'm going to be safe in a ship full of men I know nothing about".
He answers with a single, final word.
"Yes".
You hum in thought. You don't. You don't trust him; and you don't trust you'd be safe with the crew of male strangers either. Perhaps he wants you to bring the cristal to him âif it existsâ and then he'll get rid of you to enjoy the reward alone. Perhaps this is all a story and he needs you for something else. Who knows, he might even want to hand you to someone else for some sort of revenge. No matter. You'll be alert and you'll come out if this clean.
You make up your resolve and tilt your chin up at him.
"I'm asuming you'll sell the kyber and make a fortune from it" you point out, then state with a firm voice. "I want a third of the price".
Hunter snorts; the first real, uncontrolled reaction you pull from him.
"I have seventy men on board and you want a whole third of the reward. A bit ambitious, don't you think?"
You shrug. Negotiating is part of being a pirate. You know it's too much to ask, but it's just a start.
"Like you said, my skill is unique. We both can't get the Kyber without the other. You know where it is and I'm the only one able to get it. Good luck trying to find someone who can hold their breath for twenty minutes and swim in those freezing waters at the same time".
Hunter tries to make you back down with his stare and his silence; but you don't waver, and you defiantly stare back at him.
The pirate clenches his jaw once.
"Twenty-five percent" he conceeds.
You grin. You don't think this man is the type to soldier through an extense negotiation; and you're not in the mood for that yourself. You might have tried to go for a thirty percent some other time; but you'll consider it as a victory this once.
You wake up to the king of your nightmares. You haven't seen Commodoro Palpatine in eight years; but he still manages to evoke the same feeling inside of you. Terror, anger, fear, pain. He's the one that killed your father eleven years ago; the reason why you're covered in scars you haven't allowed anyone to see.
"Hello, my dear" he smiles, a crooked, cold thing. "I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure to meet you again".
His fingers graze your shoulder while he walks around you like a vulpture waiting for the poor hurt animal to exhale his last breath; sending goosebumps through your skin.
You clench your fists; unable to tear yourself from his touch with the tight restraints they've put you in. The last thing you remember was walking outside of the tabern to get some sleep. You don't remember receiving any blow to your head, so it's possible they may have slipped a drug to your drink.
"What do you want from me?" You spit out, trying to hide your fear beneath a layer of ire.
Commodoro Palpatine laughs almost in delight.
"Straight to the point, I see" you hate the way he talks, so falsely sweet. "You've made a deal with a certain Captain lately. I want to make you a deal as well".
At this point in your life, his extense list of spies doesn't surprise you. You haven't seen him in eight years because he hasn't wanted to; not because he couldn't. It's the problem about him; he has everyone under his radar with promises of money, threats, and power.
"What deal?" You ask him directly, skipping the show of you trying to resist to his wishes. Better get this over with.
"You'll go on your little trip with Captain Hunter. You'll get the Moon Kyber for him, and once you return to land, you'll hand it to me".
You scoff, voice coming out in irritated muttering.
"And what makes you think I won't flee with it?"
Palpatine's dark smile could kill death itself.
"There's two things pirates always look for, my dear. Credits... And treasures" he finally shows you the small object that he has been hiding in his hand this whole time, an old pendant you recognise well. It belonged to your father âbefore he gave it to you in your eight birthdayâ; Palpatine must have teared it from you the day he tortured you and killed him.
Your body tingles in pain with the memory; your heart clenches. Even for pirates, credits don't have enough value compared to a few handfull of things. Your late father's pendant is one of yours. You need it.
For the second time in the week, you say the word again.
The Marauder is everything you have ever imagined it would be. The ship is beautiful; dark wood and scarlet sails, with it's three mastils standing tall and a sharp bow to cut into the sea. The crew is as you expected it to be too; fierce and diligent, paired with a common distrust towards the new recruit -youâ. On the first day, Captain Hunter gives them orders to let you be; though it does little to stop the glares and sneers as you move through the ship.
It doesn't matter. They'll get used to your presence; you all have a long trip up to the North Sea.
You can't help but feel excited. It's been a decade since you last stepped in home. You'd escaped Ionia with your father in an attempt to hide from Palpatine; and while Corus is full of dark memories and loneliness, you still keep a fond memory of Ionia. Of long dips in the water and a time when everything felt safe, easier. You know your return won't feel the same ânot without your father by your sideâ; but you still long to see the white coast and it's dark, almost black waters. You've always find that to be a beautiful contrast.
You don't let Hunter out of sight. As weeks pass by, you can't help but make a habit of observing him. You're curious; and you still don't trust him. The wariness starts to dissapear with time; but it's a residue that always stays no matter how hard you scrub.
Hunter is as fierce as the rest of his men. Frown set and jaw tense, he barks orders around no-one dares to give a second glance. The ship advances so fast that you start to think that the way to the North won't take as long as you'd originally thought. It's a well oiled machine; his words are actions inmediately carried by his crew. There's a special kind of relationship between this men; Hunter might be their leader, and there might be a clear hierarchy, but they act so in sync and hold such a deep respect for each other that it's hard to see the lines between their positions. You've never seen pirates move and fight like that. Perhaps that's the reason for their fame and victories; the fact that they know each other so well, the fact that they trust each other to the bone. The fact that they're family. You wonder how it would feel to have so many siblings spread around the world and never feel alone.
To your surprise, you notice your relationship with the Captain shifting as well. With each harsh encounter you face by their side against other pirates, sailors, or the dangers of the sea, he seems to relax a tiny bit more around you, giving you more freedom to move around the ship without his gaze set upon you. The night you help one of his brothers âEchoâ with a deep gash on his hand, he even offers you a nod and a slight curve of his lips you catalogue as a smile.
Alcohol has always been sailors favorite method of killing time; and facing the cold and loneliness of the night. Unfortunately, it does more than soothe one's worries away; it gives men courage, which in itself is not a bad thing, but if taken too far rum loosens tongues and problems arise. The night you finally cross the border of Corus's sea into the North one, everyone is happy and excited; bottles of rum being passed around the crew, everyone sprawled lazily in deck. Hours creep in between jokes, stories and laughter; eyes growing glassy and slowly blinking sleep away. As usual, you're sitting alone close to the bowsprit; a position that allows you a perfect vision of the rest of the ship. You're still close enough to hear them âsince they're not bothering in whispering anywaysâ.
"Shut up, di'kut" one man playfully punches another's arm. "You're probably gonna' spend all your credits in a woman when we get back".
Everyone laughs and snickers, and the pirate in question shrugs with a radiant grin.
"You would understand why if you'd had experienced the warmth and pleasure that comes from being buried between a woman's legs. One day, vod" he rises his rum and takes a long gulp from the bottle.
The crowd roars in laughter, and the first man's cheeks light up in an embarassed red.
"Not my fault all the woman we happen to come across are whores, Blades" he mutters, as the chuckles slowly die around them. "I prefer to save my earnings for other things. And to save myself from who-knows-what disease".
The one named Blades smirks and doesn't let him go that easily.
"Well, you have a pretty pirate right there" he points at you with a jerk of his chin. "Why don't you try your luck with that one, mm?"
All eyes turn to you. They roam up and down your figure, considering the pirate's words. Like they've suddenly remembered you're a woman. And you're here, with them. The man Blades is taunting hesitates; but eventually nods tersely, and stands up to make his way towards you.
A shiver spreads through your spine. Though you don't think they'll try anything as a collective ânot under Hunter's commandâ you can read the hunger in their eyes. This men have never been your friends âyou're aware of thatâ, but neither have they acted as enemies. Now, though, you feel surrounded by sharks.
Even if your heart speeds up and emotions clash inside of you, you keep your breathing under control, casting your eyes downwards in order to look distracted and ocupied. You listen to his stumbling footsteps approaching you. Your left hand carefully moves towards your ankle, where you keep a blade cinched to it and covered by the fabric of your boot; waiting for the perfect second to move.
"Hey, gorgeous" he starts his line once he's just a step away from you, towering over your sitting position. "How about you and me go to have some fun below deck?"
"No, thanks" you answer feigning boredom, ears and corners of your vision still trained on him and the rest of the men avidly watching the interaction behind him.
He makes a disaproving sound with his tongue.
"Ah, come on, girl" he keeps trying, growing nervous at the thought of the rest of the crew watching his defeat. "Don't be a prude..."
He goes to grab your shoulder, but you're way faster than him. You swipe his legs of the floor with a quick strong movement of yours; and you're holding the blade to his neck in a blink. He's too stunned to say anything âwatching you with wide eyesâ; but the rest of the crew inmediately straightens up ready to defend him.
"The answer is no" you insist, voice low and dangerous, finally retracting your weapon and standing up and away. "Now I sugest you return to your place".
He does it without uttering a single word, perhaps still shocked from the surprise. Everyone seems to be. Surprised and wary. Perhaps your reaction has been a little too much; but once again, you're alone in a ship full of strangers âstrangers that could turn on you in an unfair fight you'd had almost unexisting chances of winningâ, and you need to send a message. You're no-ones plaything. And no one is going to touch you unless you want them to.
You sit back down quietly as well, studying the crowd in case of another altercation. Adrenaline pumps through your veins. There are some insults being spat under their breath and some whispering; but no one picks up another fight. Your eyes eventually find Hunter; who is standing up and watching the situation in front of the Foremast. He's tense âthough you're not sure who exactly is he angry withâ; and when his eyes bore into yours, your scars itch uncomfortably under your shirt. You tilt your chin up at him.
The Marauder is more or less two weeks away from the caves of Ilum. You can't help but feel a sort of peace as you stare into the horizon; an orange sun melting into black waters, setting everything on fire. It's beautiful. The air is already so much colder; though you know it's nothing compared to how freezing the North Sea is.
When the sun is completely extinguished and there's no longer light to guide the Marauder through the rocky coast of Ionia, Hunter gives the order to rest for the night. The crew bunkers down below deck âhiding from the coldâ and you use the rare oportunity of being completely alone to take a quiet swim.
It's not that you're enthusiastic about going into the freezing waters at night. But it's been a few years since you did a long dive, and it's a good idea to start gaining a bit of practice. Your body needs to get used to moving in the North Sea again. It's not an easy task.
You carefully lower yourself on one of the boats until you touch the surface of the water. It's so black it acts like a perfect mirror under the moonlight; your eyes staring at your reflection without a clue of what could be hiding underneath. You try the temperature sinking a hand on the sea. Goosebumps inmediately rises on your skin.
Boots on and everything âany layer of clothing helpsâ you slowly leave the boat and dissapear under the water, teeth inmediately pressing against each other in an effort to cope with the paralising cold. It's almost as if it grips each one of your muscles and locks them in place, trying to drown you.
You get used to it for a few minutes first; then, your hands leave the edge of the boat. You close your eyes and remain floating with the minimum effort; legs gently moving to keep you close to the surface from time to time.
You train in a progression, just like you learnt when you were a kid. You first hold your breath for five minutes; then you do a dip of ten, then fifteen. When you come up for air again, you take another fifteen to rest. Although the water is freezing cold, your wet clothes and the wind makes the return to the sea for one last dive feel almost like a relief.
Twenty minutes gives you a lot of time to think. Your mind does a slow review of this last month in the Marauder; whatever you've happened to learn about members of it's crew, of Hunter. He's closest to other four pirates; Wrecker, Tech, Echo and Crosshair. They seem to be even more in sync than the rest. You notice they're the most different appearance-wise as well; perhaps that's what pushed them together, or maybe they have just known each other the longest.
You also think of Palpatine and your father. It doesn't sit well with you, hiding this second deal to the captain of the Marauder; but you have little choice. Palpatine wouldn't have let you go if you had refused; and you know he'll be waiting for your return. You'll find a way to fool him; but until you do, you'll keep that secret close to your heart. Who knows what would happen to you if Hunter or any of the Fetts discovered it...
Stress evaporates underwater. Your mind eventually empties; you're part of the sea. Time vanishes too.
You wake up from your trance with your lungs burning. You're forced to break the surface of the water; inmediately taking a quick breath of air in. Your head pounds; but you close your eyes and calm your agitated body down, anchoring your elbows to the boat and letting out a tired, panting sigh. Each gulp of air hurts for the first few seconds; until you regulate your breathing again. Exhausted and shivering âyou really should get to warmth nowâ, you use what little strength you have left to pull yourself over into the boat and then lift it up to deck again.
Completely exhausted and curved forward with both of your hands resting against your knees, you don't even notice him until he speaks; his calm voice startling you and making you stand up straight again.
"You could have died and nobody would've even known".
His dark chocolate eyes are set on yours. This time, the surprise brought up by his unexpected presence makes them look innocent and young.
Water dripping onto the deck and clothes stuck to your skin, your answer comes out in a whispered shiver.
"That would have been really tragic" you agree, hugging your own body in a futile attempt to warm yourself up. "You'd never get to see your Kyber".
Hunter's lips and throat moves as if to speak; but then he stays in silence, observing you quietly with that intimidating stare of his. You can usually ignore it, but this time you feel the need to break the tension.
"I was getting myself used to this waters again. It's been eleven years since I was last in Ionia. I have a natural skill for diving and holding my breath, which I've been training since I was a kid, but believe it or not, I still need a bit of aclimatising".
"And you decided to do your first try at night without warning anyone".
You give him a shrug and a guilty smile.
"I can't really practice while the ship is moving, so it had to be at night... And I don't like others watching" it slips out.
Hunter hums. His eyes flicker down towards your collarbone, and you suddenly realise that with your loose shirt sticking to your skin, the very first of your scars is now visible. You inmediately tense and pull it back to place.
He notices it, but makes no comment.
"Your skin is starting to turn blue" he points out. "You should get to warmth".
"Guess I'll have to make myself a spot between your men under deck" you chuckle, trembling. "Steal a bed roll or two".
What Hunter offers doesn't leave your head in the next few days.
"You could take my bed. I can always bunker with Tech" the pause between the two of you is long, perhaps because you're both shocked by his words, and Hunter continues in an effort to downplay his sugestion. "We can't have you falling sick now, with no proper medics on board".
If Hunter's words surprises you, perhaps your answer shocks him as well.
"You could always stay".
There's a million of thoughts and emotions roaming in those dark eyes. For a moment, you think he'll pass; but when you shiver again, his gaze turns soft, warm, and he smiles.
It's unfair. Hunter is, to date, the best sex you've had; and it's difficult not to want a repeat of that night when you see him everyday, and you're both trapped in the same ship in the middle of the sea. Maybe that's why you can't tear your eyes off of him; yes, the fact that he's good like that, and not the lingering doubt that you're starting to like him.
Hunter had treated you like only lovers in books did. He wasn't rough, though he certainly wasn't soft either; it was sensual, passionate, lips moving over bodies and hips joining in endless waves. You had been reduced to moan and whimpers; and you had left him breathless as well. Hunter had been particularly unselfish and considerate, mindful of your comfort and pleasure; and in a world of pirates and dangerous men, it had shocked you to your very bone. It was a bit scary, in fact; how it felt like he was undressing your every layer and pulling them apart even when you had remained hidden in most of your clothes all the time.
The tension between the two of you builds and builds while days pass; until you can't longer keep it locked inside.
You knock on his private room at night; and when he opens with an irritated expresion that quickly morphs into hunger and surprise, you all but jump him. You bite down onto his lower lip, ravenous, and he groans into your mouth; hands caressing your back before taking a firm hold on your hips and pushing you back.
"What?" You ask him, panting, face tilted up towards him.
Hunter's dark eyes scan you. Studies you; almost as if he doesn't quite understand.
You can't help yourself. You want him too bad; you're on fire, impatient, and you kiss him again when he stays in silence. He seems to forget whatever he was going to say; because he let's you push him backwards into his room, and tugs you to bed. His eyes close while you caress and kiss his body, taking his clothes off; and he only seems to come back to his right mind when you're seconds away of sinking onto his cock.
"Wait" he asks, fingertips digging into your hips while you take position over his hips.
He breathes heavily under your confused gaze; a hesitant expresion on his face. It's like he wants to tell or ask you something; but he's afraid.
You search his eyes; the hunger and eagerness, mixed with the confusion and wariness, and you suddenly understand.
"You think this is some sort of plan. A way of using you".
Hunter sighs, relieved he doesn't have to voice his worries out loud, and you answer with a dry laugh.
"And what is that plan, Hunter? Seduce my way into your heart and flee with the cristal?"
The silent is painful. It hurts; though you understand his waryness. You'd probably have thought the same had he looked for you again. The thought has crossed your mind; that doing this is dangerous, that it could complicate things. But you don't care; you're used to running the long way.
"Perhaps I'm using you" you taunt, and his eyes darken in a warning until you elaborate with a fervor you rarely let anyone see. "But to feel something other than anger, loneliness, ambition. There's no ulterior reason why I want to have sex with you. You don't trust me. And I understand. But you can".
You wait; eyes open and eager. Honest. You don't exactly know how this trip is going to end; but you've got no intentions of hurting him, and you'll try to avoid it as much as possible.
You just want to enjoy his body and affection now; feel that exhilarating pleasure again. Leave your head for a little while.
"I can try" he finally answers, taking a deep breath. His fingers take hold on the edge of your shirt. "I want to see you this time".
You tense; it's an involuntary reaction. Hunter gently caresses your hip with one hand, patiently waiting for an answer. You can read his words in his warm eyes; "You can trust me too".
Your voice is so low and meek he has trouble hearing you.
"I've never shown them to anyone" you whisper, biting onto your lip uncomfortably.
Hunter squeezes softly. He stays quiet; letting you decide.
It's dangerous. You already see him differently than anyone else; sharing this vulnerability with him is a big step. And like him, you have trouble trusting; you don't want to get hurt.
You look at him, sprawled under you, long hair tangled in a mess and warm brown eyes staring straight at you. Gentle hands, beautiful skin. Vulnerable. Patient.
Your trembling fingers pull off your shirt; leaving you exposed to him. You tightly shut your eyes and remain inmovile on top of him; Hunter breathes out and slowly reaches a hand towards your skin.
"Who?" He asks, because it's obvious this scars haven't been made by accidents, but inflicted by someone.
You shiver.
"Palpatine".
You don't have to specify. Even if he's from Ionia, like yourself, his power and cruelty extends everywhere.
"When your father died?" He quietly questions, cautious not to push you away.
You remember he had studied you before all of this.
You give him a sad smile.
"Yeah. I foolishly wandered alone once, when we were on the run, and he captured me first. He used to play this sick game with him... Where he would cut me open and leave a trail of my blood around, for my father to search and follow like a dog. It wasn't enough to just kill him. Palpatine is a monster, and he and my father were the oldest of enemies".
And then, a confession burried deep in your soul, because you're too fierce of a pirate to be scared of anything, and more so of just one man.
"He terrifies me" you whisper.
Hunter's hands take hold of your innocent face.
"He isn't here" he soothes you, tenderly. "You're safe with me".
He kisses you, and you swallow every worry down. The "he's closer than you think", and "he'll be waiting". They're your burdens to carry; your curse. Your secret.
For now, you let Hunter kiss you and guide you onto his cock; and you surrender to pleasure and oblivion.
A whole month of nights in Hunter's bed and the heartfelt conversations afterwards, the Marauder stops in a big formation of rocks in the region of Ilum. Hunter explains to you everything he knows about this place; and then it's your turn to play.
Every single man of the crew is waiting in deck, staring at you while you're lowered on one of the boats and take a few minutes to calm down and prepare yourself.
The moment is inevitable; and you jump headfirst into the water, ignoring the biting cold and calmly starting to swim towards the rocks. You stay close to surface at first. Once your hand comes into contact with the first of the caves, you anchor yourself to the rock as best as you can and take a deep breath.
"Here goes the first dive" you think to yourself, and you start to swim straightly downwards into the depths of the sea.
The first ten minutes feel easy after this last two months of training. You try to find some sort of entrance between the rocks; but to no avail, and once your lungs start to burn, you start your way up to surface again.
Panting heavily, you make a negative sign with your finger to Hunter, who is watching among the crew from the ship, spyglass in hand; and take ten minutes to calm yourself down again.
You nod and open your eyes; swimming to the next rock and signaling you're going down again. Ten minutes of swimming downward goes; the water getting colder and the pressure on your ears bigger. It borders on painful; but you push that to a second plane and focus on your research. Your eyes follow a group of tiny yellow fishes moving towards a gap in the underside of the rock; and you wonder if the treasure could be hiding in the other side. It's wide enough that you could carefully swim through it.
There's only one way to find out.
Resolved and confident, you start swimming forward, following the trail of fishes in what you now identify as an underwater tunel. It get's progressively darker the more you advance; and your lungs start to burn, making you worry about wether if you should start your way back or continue with the dive. But then the colour of the water slightly changes; dark blue instead of black, and then ligther in what has to be... light.
You swim faster, and faster, and faster; and then, you're suddenly taking a deep, rushed breath in in what you can now identify as a cave. You've never seen anything this beautiful. Thin rays of sunglight enter through tiny spots left between the rocks; partially iluminating the cave in a faint glow. There isn't just one cristal in here; but dozens of them, all different colours and shapes, stuck all over the rocks in both the cealing and walls. They shine and sparkle. This cave really feels magical. You get lost for some minutes staring at your finding; until your eyes fall in some mineral you've never seen before.
You swim closer, one hand clinging to the rocky wall to support part of your weight; studying the sparkling cristals curiously. It's a mix between grey and blue, and the size of a finger; they look like some sort of gemstone. You know this probably isn't what you're looking for; but it doesn't mean it's not special.
You continue searching; but you're unable to find the Moon Kyber. You sigh, tired, and close your eyes. You think of the stories; the supposed origin of this cristal. The Jedi. Kybers were thought to be almost alive; the Jedi believed some could be even heard as music. That the Kybers called them; had a natural affinity with some. You're no Jedi, and you don't really quite believe all of it; but perhaps there's some truth to what you nowadays know of history.
You take a deep breath in and remain with your eyes closed; focusing on the rest of your senses. The small movement of the currents against the rocky walls; the tiny fishes swimming around. Your presence, alive and warm; picture all the other gems around you. You stay like this for a few minutes, almost in a trance; until something shines over your closed eyelids, and even before opening your eyes, you already know what you're goint to find.
It's an amber colour, much smaller than what you had imagined, and shines like there's a tiny sun, liberating energy, trapped inside the cristal's walls. Even if you're not touching it, it feels warm; in ways you can't understand. You carefully close your fingertips around it; and the cristal almost comes off of the rocky wall inmediately, like it wants to go with you. A sincere smile forms on your face.
Your eyes travel back towards the other unidentified mineral you'd found in the cave. Your mind starts to connect the dots; an idea taking shape in your head. You take two pieces of the blue-grey mineral as well; and the kyber goes into your boot while one of the blue cristals sits on top of your tongue.
Shooting one last lingering glance towards the cave, you take a deep breath; and initiate the way back.
When your head pops out of the surface of the water after almost an hour of exploration, cheers and shouts sound from the men on The Marauder. You get back onto the boat; and they pull you back onto the deck. Your breathing is shattered, exhausted, and you smile tiredly at Hunter when he inmediately steps towards you.
"Did you find it?" he asks, eyes shinning, hands coming to rest onto your shoulders affectionately.
You make a chuckling noise with your throat and open your mouth, spitting the blue cristal into the palm of your hand. Around you, there's a chorus of disgusted groans and excited whispering.
"Yeah" you laugh, pinching the beautiful shinning cristal between your fingertips. "I got it alright".
Hunter's rare smile is just as radiant as the real Kyber; which remains hidden inside of your boot when you both join each other in bed hours later.
While for everyone the journey from Ionia back to Corus is one of pure hapiness and bliss, you can't help but feel melancholic; like all things are coming to an end. It's not that you'll miss The Marauder dearly; but coming to port means a possible end to your's and Hunter's relationship, and that... That you'll miss.
You catch yourself glancing up at him all the time. He notices it, and you mask it under a small smile or a teasing wink; but inside, your heart squeezes painfully. For your idea to succeed, you're going to have to betray him first. Well, you won't be really betraying him; but he'll believe so. And he has to believe it. For this to work, Palpatine has to see the hurt and pain in Hunter's eyes; the surprise and rawness of his anger and the rest of his men. It's the reason why you can't warn him. The time to soothe him will come; but first, you have to push him through despair.
You wonder if he loves you as you've come to love him. Yes, you do. It's a hard truth to accept; but it's the truth. Somewhere between liking him and growing fond of him, somewhere between melting at his rare smiles and sharing nights of pleasure and passion and the quiet conversations afterwards, the pirate had stolen another treasure, fiercely protected under numerous walls; your heart.
Sometimes you're sure he does. It's the way he looks at you; or how he grazes your hand and back. The way he shoots a glance at anyone else when he hears them speaking ill of you or how he turns protective. Even his close brothers often tease him about it. Others, his feelings seem to be burried between his own layers of distrust and nochalance; when he can't bear to show such vulnerability any longer. In those times you try to disarm him with one kiss after another one. Sometimes you suceed, and sometimes you don't; and he'll twist out of your arms to take you from behind. To escape the power of your eyes; eyes that will force him to blurt all worries and desires he isn't ready to share yet. There's still a long way for your's and Hunter's interactions to grow; but you have plenty of patience for a man like him.
The Marauder docks quietly but swiftly; it's crew happy to touch land again no matter how much they've enjoyed their adventure at the sea. Everyone rushes to enjoy their free time; The Marauder will only stock up for the night before moving elsewhere. Hunter offers you his hand in a mocking chivalrious gesture; and you accept his help laughing, entwining your fingers with him afterwards and tugging him along. Hunter chuckles quietly and follows.
"Where are we going?" he asks, lightness in his voice.
You turn to grin up at him.
"Isn't it obvious? I think we deserve something other than rum to celebrate".
Hunter smiles wider, his eyes taking that quiet warmth and softness he sometimes show when looking at you. You squeeze his hand affectionately too.
One whiskey gives way to another one; and soon you're lost again in Hunter's chocolate eyes, in how handsome he looks, how much you like him. Love him.
"Please, forgive me" you beg him in your head, memorising his features. "Please, please, please".
Palpatine irrupts in the bar three hours after you had arrived -perhaps waiting for Hunter to be inebriated, perhaps making sure none of his men would be close to help him-; followed by a flock of the Red Guard soldiers. He likes to do an entrance; and as expected, time seems to freeze with his appearance, frightened eyes and shocked expresions directed at him. Palpatine's own cold eyes inmediately find you; and Hunter -Oh, Hunter- inmediately stands up to put himself between the two of you.
You can see his tense shoulders and his jaw clench; while Palpatine looks relaxed while he shortens the distance between you.
"How lovely" his voice is that of a snake, acompanied by a cruel, dark smile. "Don't tell me you've stolen his heart too, my dear. Absolutely brilliant".
Hunter stays in place; but his eyes flicker from him to you in a mix of confusion and hope. He knows how Palpatine's words sound; he just can't believe you've done it, the thing he was afraid of from the beginning. Grow close to him only to betray him in the end. Use him.
Though surprised, Palpatine doesn't seem to be at all interested in whatever is happening between the pirate and you. He extends his hand; tone laced with sudden boredom.
"Now dear... Please, the Kyber" he asks.
This time Hunter does turn around to look at you. He looks as you push your hand into your pocket; and come up with a grey cristal. You hand it to the Commodoro.
"My fathers pendant" you demand, voice sharp and serious.
Hunter's eyes find yours; almost like he's asking if that has been the price.
Palpatine laughs.
"When you've given me the real one, dear" he points out. You knew he would.
You shoot him an irritated glance; nodding quietly and taking the blue cristal out from your breast band. Palpatine arches a brow; and examines the gemstone. It's nothing he has seen before; it shines even with no light inflection, a bright, glowing blue. Pure. It looks like it holds the sea itself. Or perhaps the moon.
Hunter makes a move to grab it; but two Corries inmediately hold him in place, Palpatine tutting condescendingly.
"Ah, ah. I believe the Moon Kyber is now mine, Captain Hunter. You should take more care of who you trust for the next time".
You can't look at him. Can't watch Hunter's face and the pain and hurt reflected on it. Everything in you is screaming to comfort him; to take his hand, to caress his hair like you do at night. You can't.
Palpatine offers you his part of the deal; and you quickly take your father's pendant of his hands, tying it up around your neck. Keeping it safe.
The man of your nightmare smiles.
"Well, it was nice to oficially meet you, Captain. I'm sure we'll see each other again" the Commodoro says, briefly nodding at him in farewell before turning towards you and gesturing to the door of the tabern in invitation. "Shall we leave now, my dear?"
You feel Hunter watching you. You want to take one last look at him before following Palpatine; but you'll break. You can't.
You take a deep breath in and walk outside the bar.
A month later -one of the hardest of your life, after the loss of your father- you hear news about The Marauder docking in Kamino's port. You've been keeping an eye on Hunter in the distance; cautiously asking around and following him around the South just one carefull step behind. You'd like to have contacted him sooner; but it was too risky, considering Palpatine had yet to sell his blue cristal and he'd probably keep an eye on you as well until he had those credits in his hands. Now, though, now... Palpatine is a million credits richer; and you are free to explore the world again. Free to find him.
You know things wouldn't end well if you'd directly confronted him. He probably hates you right now; has tried to burry your memory in a pit of anger and hurt. And you understand. He might probably still resent you even after you've explained yourself; but you have to at least try.
You miss him. So much...
You send a messenger instead. It's a ten year old boy who doesn't even know who you are or who Hunter is; who doesn't know the content of the small bag he's been paid to deliver. It's safer this way.
Hunter makes a silent gesture to Wrecker, and his brother let's the child pass. Wrecker -and all of his crew, really- has been particularly protective lately. Although he was just as furious and dissapointed as the rest by what had happened, his brother's love for their family would always be bigger; and thankfully, Hunter hand't had to give much of an explanation to his crew other than that the pirate girl had deceived him with the cristal. Fled.
The kid is awfully persistent, though, and he's just a kid; so Hunter receives him with a gentle but tired expression on his face. It's been weeks since he had been able to shut en eye for more than three or four hours at a time.
"I've been paid to hand this personally to you, sir" the young boy says, handing him a letter first.
Hunter guesses he has recognised him by the long hair and the bandana; or the half-tattooed face. The kid waits patiently while he opens the letter.
Hunter's mind blanks while he reads the six words scribbled on it.
"Told you; you can trust me".
No signature, no name; but he knows very well who the writer is. A girl he hasn't been able to take out of his head; one he hates and loves at the same time. Misses.
Hunter can't do anything else than to stare at the kid. The young boy nods to himself, and then hands him a small bag, almost shoving it in Hunter's hands.
"Miss will be in the last tabern of the harbour until twelve" he waits to make sure his message has been listened, and then nods again. "Good night".
The boy quickly dissapears, and Hunter is left staring at the small bag in his hands. It's very light; but somehow, Hunter knows there's something inside. He can... Feel it. It's some sort of moving energy. Alive.
He takes a deep breath; preparing himself for what he could be about to find. For possible disappointments.
He slowly opens the bag.
The cristal shines almost like it is trapping the sun inside. It's the prettiest object Hunter has ever seen before; a rich amber colour mixed with orange and gold. The different tones swirl and mix inside of the cristal's walls; it... Pumps, like a heartbeat. Calm and consistent. Warm.
A tearful smile forms on Hunter's lips. This is the Moon Kyber cristal; it's real, it exists. And it's there, right in his hands. Which therefore means she hadn't really betrayed him; just carefully played her cards. She wanted her father's pendant. It hold great sentimental value to her; even if it had hurt, he'd understand. Commodoro Palpatine had probably forced her to get the Kyber for himself; and she had been left trapped between two men that wanted her skills.
Hunter thinks of how scared she must have felt. She had explained to him the story behind her scars; carved deep all around her torso when she was nothing but a young girl. A decade later, she had still shivered and trembled when Hunter touched them; when he had tried to soothe the pain away with his hands, his lips, and his tongue. She had almost cried that first time; holding her tears if only by pure stubborness. Hunter thinks on how much stress she must have gone through; knowing what fate awaited her. He smiles realising how smart she has been; taking not just one, but two fake cristals with her from the cave as well as the real one. She'd known Palpatine would believe her to be hiding the Moon Kyber; tried to trick him. So she'd fooled them all; Hunter included, because -now he realised- she needed Palpatine to see his hurt and dispair for all of it to become real. And she had done it all in silence. And won.
Maker, he loved her. She could have kept the real Kyber to herself; and yet, she had handed it to him, maybe because... Because she loved him as well.
Hunter leaves the real kyber in Tech's capable hands and walks to the tabern; the last one in Kamino's harbour, where she awaits.
You're on your second whiskey when you hear the footsteps; a hand coming to rest on your back. You know who it belongs to without even looking at him; the size of it, the splayed fingers -trying to touch as much of you as he can-, the gentle presure, the emotions that somehow seeps from it.
Hunter's voice is warm and slightly raspy; your favorite combination.
"You're hard to find".
Love and happiness burst inside of you. You know what his presence here means; what that sentence means. He has forgiven you; or at least, he's willing to try.
You turn around and study him. He's... You melt under his watch. You never thought this would happen; that you'd fall in love with another pirate.
Echo is a Demon. His kind is tasked with killing. Lumi is an angel; a protector. What happens when they are both sent to the same person?
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · 100 celebration â PROMPT 4 = ANGEL&DEMON AU
PAIRING: ECHO/ORIGINAL FEMALE CHARACTER
WARNINGS: WOUNDS, BLOOD, MENTIONS OF
â Prompt 5. Superpowers&Fantasy AU.
Pairing: Fives/original female character.
In a galaxy where superpowers are an everyday thing, Li is what people call a "Blink". She has the ability to teleport anywhere; which is certainly useful when you're a fugitive escaping from the 501st. Fives has dreams.
In a world were appearance is almost as important as reality, your family stands at the very top of the piramid. Like every other seventeen year old girl you're nervous and expectant for your presentation in society; and of the delicate decisions you'll have to make.
READ HERE NOW
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 6. HISTORIC PERIOD (REGENCY) AU
REX/FEMALE READER đđ„
WARNINGS: ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE INSPIRED BY THE BRIDGERTONS,
â Prompt 7. Pornstar AU.
Pairing: Hunter/f reader.
Your manager tells you it's time to find a new co-star. You decide to film with Hunter, a gorgeous sexy clone turned pornstar.
READ HERE NOW
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 7. SEX WORKER/PORNSTAR AU
HUNTER/FEMALE READER đ„
WARNINGS: PORN INDUSTRY, VIDEO TAPES&FILMING SEX, FLEETING MENTI
â Prompt 8. Pirates AU.
Pairing: Hunter/ f reader.
You made a deal with Captain Hunter to join his crew of pirates and find the legendary Moon Kyber for him. You made a second deal with Commodoro Palpatine to deliver the treasure to him instead. How can you come out of this conflict of interests alive and with the pirate you've fallen in love with?
READ HERE NOW
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 8. PIRATES AU
HUNTER/F READER đđđ„
WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS
â Prompt 9. Mermaids AU.
Pairing: Tech/f reader.
READ HERE NOW
Below the surface, where the world is a myriad of blues and different marine kingdoms coexist, there are two subspecies of mermaids; shallow mers and deep-water mers. You've always been told to be wary of the second ones. A casual encounter starts to make you think otherwise.
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 7. MERMAID AU
TECH/ FEMALE READER đ
WARNINGS: This story alternates between reader's and third person (Tech'ish)
â Prompt 14. Telepathy.
Pairing: Tech/f reader.
READ HERE NOW
Tech can't figure out why you seem to shy away from him; so he uses his telepathy to find out. Your thoughts about him are definitely a surprise.
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 14. TELEPATHY
TECH / F READER đ(đ„)
WARNINGS: BRIEF MENTIONS OF INSECURITIES, SEXUAL THOUGHTS BUT NO PROPER SEX SC
â Prompt 15. Arranged marriage/fake dating.
Pairing: Crosshair/original female character.
READ HERE NOW
Trying to wipe off the smile out of your ex-best friends' face, you tell her you're currently engaged; blurting out the first name that comes to your head.
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 15. ARRANGED MARRIAGE / FAKE DATING
CROSSHAIR/F READER đ
WARNINGS: past friendship breakup, fluff fluff fluff.
N
â Prompt 17. Prince&servant AU.
Pairing: Rex/f reader.
You're the princess of Bahr; the succesor to the Crown. Rex is just a servant; a boy that works at the kitchen first, a captain in the army later. You should have forgotten him through the years; and yet, almost a decade later, you can't help the feeling that you two just belong.
READ HERE NOW:
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 17. PRINCE&SERVANT AU
REX/F READER đđ
WARNINGS: servant/slavery themes, social gap, mentions of war, soulbonds, f
â Prompt 22. Forced to share heat/one bed.
Pairing: Wrecker/f reader.
When your ship, the Starlight, suffers the consecuences of the wrath inflicted by the pirates, Wrecker and you have to find the way of surviving together. And once you get back to safety... Was surviving all that that was, or is there something more happening between you?
Eru's native species are just about to enter their mating season. To pry you from the aliens hands, Rex needs to cover you in his scent.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Please god captain Rex + reader MAYHAPS FAKE DATING TROPE? I am grasping for straws đđđđ honestly just ANYTHINGG fluffy m
- MANTIS â CROSSHAIR/F READER đ„đ
You're a bit of a sociopath; selecting victims to swallow their last breath in a mix of fear and pleasure. Crosshair is your new target.
đŹ 0  đ 2  â€ïž 6 · Hahahaa I'm so glad u liked it! I was a tad worried u wanted to go for a softer, fluffier oneshot and I'd leave you traumat
- LITTLE SHADOW â REX/READER đ
You develop a small crush for Captain Rex. The squad has his fun with it.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · I recently saw your post on requests for Captain RexâŠand ive looked at some of your other writings and LOVE THEM! đ€đ€đ€
Mayb
- "LOVE AND DUTY" â REX/F READER đ
Rex had been a knight at the service of the crown âat your serviceâ since he was barely more than a teenager. Now he has to see you marry someone else.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Sooo this is a knight/lady request!! I'm so sorry but I accidentally eliminated the first version of this and it was anonym
- LOUD SECRETâ REX/READER đ
You and Rex had managed to keep it a secret for quite some time; but then Fives notices it, and then it's all but a bet with the rest.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · ok i saw that you want captain rex requestsâŠ. đ my time to shine
i think itâd be so cute if you did a rex x jedi reader in
â THE SHAPE OF A GHOST â REX/READER (f) đđ
A few years after order 66, you believed Rex to be dead. But your settlement is destroyed, new clues arrive, and so you start the chase. You just pray he is real, and not a ghost.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Post by @oceansssblue · 1 link · Captain Rex and reader (who had some role in tcw- medic, jedi, linguist, strategist, liais
â HOLD YOU THROUGH THE PAIN âREX/READER (f) đđ
You break down after an argument with your toxic boyfriend. Thankfully, there's a wonderfull shoulder to find comfort on.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Hi lovely! I saw your post from a few weeks ago about Rex reqs!! If youâre comfortable, could you write a hurt/comfort ambi
I usually stick to clones in sw, but is anyone interested in reading some Maul x ofc/reader or something?? Would u like me to write some maul oneshots requests? I just started his series and oh well đ€Ș
Rating: E
Warning/Tags: smut; graphic depiction of violence; angst; hurt/comfort; touch-starved
Word count: 4.3k
Summary: Maul is forced to confront the painful memories of his past, and you get hurt in the process. Left vulnerable and struggling with guilt and fear after the incident, he becomes convinced that he has lost your trust. You prove him otherwise.
Read on ao3 â Part 1
Brother, Iâm an unworthy apprentice.
Normally, Savageâs voice came to him as a source of comfort. There was a familiarity to it, something that pulled him back from the isolation he had endured since his upbringing under Sidious. It stirred a longing for a place he hadnât had the time to get fully acquainted with. Home, with his brothers. Life on Dathomir would have been perilousâit may not have been a life at all, he suspectedâbut in his head, every other scenario seemed gentler than the torments he had been subjected to for years on end.
Iâm not like you. I never was.Â
Grounded, that was how his kinâs voice made him feel, a reminder of what was but mostly what mightâve been. But not this time. This time, it rang like the prelude to a very somber memory. Maul sensed the vision his mindâs eye was about to conjure before it fully materialised. An inevitable tragedy, one he had seen unfold many times before. First on Mandalore, and then regularly in his slumber, like a perpetual haunting.
Savage lay in his arms, the yellow in his eyes fading into a warm ocean green. He looked like a boy, the brother Maul thought he remembered from his past. Yet the recollection was so distant that he wondered if he may have fabricated it entirely.Â
Behind him rose a wretched and sickening sound: the cruel laugh of his master. Taunting and mocking him as he had so many times throughout his training. That voice, sinister and venomous, reminded him just how unworthy he was, how feeble, in body and mind.Â
Remember, the first and only reality of the Sith: there can only be two. And you are no longer my apprentice. You have been replaced
That was the final humiliation. The last deliberate step by which Sidious stripped away what remained of his humanity. He was not even good enough to serve as a tool, cast aside without a second thought. But it was not simply dismissal. The monster wanted him dead. Maul had forgotten his station and overplayed his hand. Even from the shadows, his master had sensed the betrayal, the challenge implicit in Maulâs relentless pursuit of vengeance against all those who had wronged him. What a mistake it had been to try and fool a master of deceit. He would pay a hefty price for it.Â
It didnât matter how many times it had happened; each strike of his masterâs lightning hurt as much as the first. Begging only made it worse. It didnât matter what he would beg for, mercy or death, there was no difference. Of all things, Sidious despised weakness above all else, and he answered it with punishments born of such cruelty and malice that they defied comprehension. For the moment, however, Maulâs tormenter satisfied himself with basic discipline.
Have mercy. Please. Please!
After years of excruciating training, Maul had become a very powerful being. There were few things he feared, and even fewer people. But when it came to his master, none of it mattered. In those moments, he was the child he had once been on his home planet: scared, innocent and helpless. The only difference between then and now was that he did not cry anymore. He knew what happened when he cried. There was only one man who got to see him at his most vulnerableâbroken, on his knees, stripped of all pretence of strength. Only one man who could instil such dread within him. But one was enough, and unfortunately for Maul, Sidious very much enjoyed it.
There is no mercy.
On the modest couch of your apartment, Maul felt the electric current course through his body ceaselessly, frying him from the inside. He felt every single burn vividly, as if the events were unfolding in real time. He was still deeply asleep, but his body reacted to the imagined assault. He wanted out. His head thrashed violently from side to side as if to shake himself awake. All the while, Sidiousâs incessant cackling went on.
Living alone had many perksânamely, the ability to notice when something was off. Whether it be a suspicious sound or a misplaced object. In this case, though, you suspected that even the most oblivious person in the galaxy would have noticed.Â
You nearly fell off your mattress as the first scream tore through the night. Without even bothering to turn the lights on you rolled out of bed, bare feet hitting the floor as you rushed to the living room in long strides. The large windows bathed the space in the neon glow of the commercial panels outside, casting enough light for you to see clearly.
What you saw was a man in agony. His body spasmed as if possessed, hands clawing at nothing, and his horns had pierced through the blanket you had given him earlier. You had seen nightmares before, occasionally experienced them yourself, but this was sheer terror, unlike anything youâd see before. Maul seemed to be speaking to someone, pleading or begging, but you didnât sit around to find out. After barely dodging one of his flailing arms, you gripped his shoulders with steady hands and started shaking him hard.Â
Sweat poured out of him, his teeth bared as he kept screaming. You had suspected the man carried demonsâwhether he was running from them or chasing themâbut you had never imagined it was that bad. In addition to your vigorous movements, you started calling out his name, although you were unsure if he would actually hear you over the sound of his own voice. It took several attempts before your efforts finally paid off .Â
Maul jolted awake, but before you could even catch your breath or ask him if he was okay, his hand shot out, seizing you with force. His fingers dug painfully in your collarbone, and a pained grunt escaped you, suddenly aware of just how brutally strong he was. His eyes were glowing in the darkness, piercing through you like daggers. However, it was not anger that filled them. Only fear. Whatever he had faced in his nightmare had left its mark, and Maul had not completely snapped out of it.
You wrapped both hands around his wrist and tried to pry him off. To no avail. Even half-awake, he was much stronger than you.
"Maul," you managed, your voice strained with pain. It didnât reach him. His gaze was fixed on you without really seeing, as if in a trance.
"Maul," you tried again, more urgently. "You have to let go." Panic began to rise in your chest. If he didnât release his grip soon, you feared he might just snap your clavicle.Â
Then, something shifted.
His eyes flickered, as if he finally registered what was happening and where he was. The fear dissipated from his eyes, slowly replaced by recognition. He released you immediately. You stumbled back, clutching your collarbone where his fingers had been only moments ago. Maul instinctively went to reach for you, then seemed to think better of it. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a brief moment before curling back into a fist at his side. He doubted you wanted him anywhere near you after what just happened.Â
"Iâm sorry," he said quietly, a hint of shame in his voice. "I didnât mean to."Â
You were still catching your breath, a little under shock, the ache in your shoulder throbbing when you pressed against it.Â
"Are you alright?" he asked with genuine concern. You nodded, and the movement made you wince.Â
"Iâll be fine." It wasnât a lie. Actually, now that you were free from his grasp, you found yourself more worried about him. "You okay?"Â
Maul hesitated, then gave a short nod. Evasive, as always. You didnât press for now, it would be a slow process for him to open up, if he ever did.Â
He looked around the room. Most of the pillows had been knocked down, and the cover was ruined, torn and ripped. He grabbed it and looked at you apologetically.Â
"Iâ"
"Itâs fine, itâs just a blanket," you said honestly. "At least the couch survived." You offered a small smile to ease the palpable tension and keep him from dwelling on what he had just done. The nightmares clearly werenât new to him. Despite how disoriented he had been upon waking, he had regained control rather quickly, all things considered. What he was troubled about was what came after, how he had hurt you. It was so easy for him to inflict pain on people, he was very gifted at that. He may even enjoy it under the right circumstances. Sometimes he wondered if he was capable of anything else. Sidious had nurtured the hatred inside him, but the violence⊠it might have always been there in the first place.
At this very moment, hurting was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to help you the way you so often did for him, to soothe the ache he had caused. To touch you gently, instead of violently, if you would even allow it now. The thought of frightening you bothered him deeply, especially after the trust you had slowly built between one another. He had hurt you, and even if you had waved it off, it would very much stick with him.Â
The most frustrating part, though, was that despite all his powers, there was nothing he could physically do to for you right now. Of all the abilities the dark side had granted him, healing was not one of them. Ironically, he almost envied the Jedi for that. Almost.
You saw the cogs turning in his mind, he was angry with himself, that much was obvious, and there was probably very little you could say right now to make him feel better. It was wiser to give him a minute to collect himself. Besides, you needed to tend to yourself anyways.
"Donât worry about the blanket, really. Iâll⊠Iâll be back." You cast one last glance at him before making your way to the bathroom. Maul remained where he was, silent and brooding, but you missed the way the hand that instinctively reached for you flexed uselessly at his side, as though mourning the feel of you there.
You let out a long breath as you leaned over the sink. Life certainly was never dull with Maul around. Without preamble you pulled your nightshirt over your head and examined your reflection in the mirror. A sizeable crimson bruise had already begun to form across your skin. You grimaced and grabbed a flask of bacta gel from the shelf. It came in handy when you injured yourself at work, which happened more often than was probably reasonable, judging by the half-empty container. You spread it thoroughly over the bruise and the tender skin around. It wouldnât erase the mark entirely but at least it would dull the pain.Â
As the gel began to take effect, you thought back on the events of the nightâto the fear, the confusion, the look in Maulâs eyes when he hadnât recognised you. There was no point sugarcoating it. For a moment, you had feared for your safety. But fear was not the feeling that had prevailed. It was concern. If anything, you wished to know how he felt. Something terrible must have happened to provoke such a violent reaction from him. If only he could help you better understand what troubled him so much that it followed him into his nightmares. You didnât even need the details, just a little insight would do.Â
The sound of Maulâs durasteel legs echoed in the corridor, growing closer and closer. He stopped somewhere behind you. You didnât bother covering yourself, didnât feel the need to. Instead, you looked up in mirror and found him standing in the doorway, head lightly tilted as he observed you in silence. He wasnât staring in the crude sense, nor did he seem embarrassed by your state of undress. His eyes roamed the expanse of your back and shoulders, as if searching for additional damage he might have caused.Â
Maul had always had a very practical approach towards you, which is why this situation didnât strike him as odd. You had seen him shirtless countless times before while patching him up. Now the role were simply reversed. Still, you found that you liked being watched by him, even if his attention stemmed from curiosity rather than want. There was something strangely intimate about it.
He looked different when survival wasnât hanging over him. Whenever you had cared for his injuries in the past, he had always maintained a stoic facade. Even when the pain broke through, he worked his hardest to appear completely unmoved. Now the harsh lines of his face had softened. You had no idea how old he was, but he certainly looked younger like this. And his golden eyes, which had looked so menacing earlier, were now so kind and caring. And they were watching you.
A little reluctantly, you cleared your throat, breaking the moment before addressing him.
"Do all Zabraks make a habit of staring at half-naked people, or is it just you?"
Maul blinked slowly.Â
"I wasâŠwaiting to see if you required assistance." The sincerity of the answer pulled a genuine grin from you. His species must have had a very different perspective on nudity for him to miss what you were getting at. His brow furrowed and an almost child-like confusion passed over his face.
"Have I offended you?" There was that uncertainty again in his tone. This was more than casual conversation to him. Your relationship was still fragile, unfamiliar ground. He seemed perpetually afraid to say or do the wrong thing.
"No, Maul," you shook your head. "Itâs just⊠youâre staring at me while I donât have my clothes on." Better to speak plainly.
His eyes widened in realisation. Truthfully, it had never once occurred to him that the situation was strange, or even unusual. He had never thought anything of being undressed around you either.
"Right." He rubbed the back of his neck, considering your words. Before coming up with a rather interesting conclusion.
"Would it help if I removed this?" He suggested, vaguely gesturing at the top of his tunic. You genuinely couldnât tell if he was serious or humouring you, but as your eyes met his in the reflection, you realised he was absolutely sincere.Â
"Youâre a strange man, you know that?" That only deepened his confusion. He felt like he was losing the hold of the conversation, somehow making everything worse. For the life of him, he couldnât understand how uniting the biggest crime syndicates in the galaxy had felt less complicated than this. Â
"I can leave if you prefâ" You raised a hand to stop him.
"Thatâs not what I said." You turned around slowly, and not a single of part of you felt uncomfortable doing so. His gaze immediately fixed on the nasty bruise, the lines of his face tightening once more.Â
"I can tell that youâre settled on the belief that Iâm afraid of you." That was not a question, and he didnât deny it.
"I hurt you." He said matter-of-factly
"You didnât intend to," you countered, and he smiled bitterly.
"It does not change the fact."Â
So he wanted to be stubborn. Fine. You could work with that.
"Youâre right. So, what should we do about it?" He didnât have an answer. This was not the kind of problem-solving he was skilled at, and it was beginning to unnerve him.
"You talked about trust earlier," you said, deciding on a different approach. "Come here."
He stared at you questioningly, already considering refusal. Yet against his better judgment, he took a step forward, then another, until he stood only inches away from you.Â
Progress.Â
Without a word, you slowly reached for his hands and guided them upward. You waited for him to get the hint and open his palms. When he did, you placed them carefully on your shoulders, so that one of them covered the bruise.Â
Maulâs entire body tensed up. He had not expected this at allânot you allowing him to touch you again so soon. Deep down, he hoped you were not forcing yourself through this, carrying the burden of reassurance for both of you. You had already showed him more kindness than he thought he had ever properly earned, let alone returned.Â
"You wonât hurt me," you said with certainty. "Not if you can help it. And thatâs enough for me. Because I trust you." You squeezed his wrists reassuringly before sliding your hands under the length of his arms, all the way to his chest. You placed them flat where his tunic parted, over his twin hearts. You lingered there, breathing together.Â
The air in the room shifted. What started as an attempt at reassurance turned very intimate, you both felt it at the same time. Maulâs eyes drifted downward, taking in the rest of you below the neck. But this time, it was clearly not the same look as before. A pleasant sensation ran through his entire body. He may have not been particularly experienced in matters of intimacy, but it wasnât his first day on the star system either. He recognised the feeling for what it what.Â
Desire.Â
Not the gentle sort. This was want. Need. Oh, yes, he was very much staring now. The way you started tracing the black ink down the column of his neck did nothing to ease the hunger building inside him.
You were deep in his personal space now, foreheads nearly touching. With quiet satisfaction, you noted the tension had finally left his body, the weight of his arms resting comfortably against you. Your gaze dropped to his mismatched lipsâthe upper one black, the lower one red. You leaned in closer, pulled in by the urge press your mouth against them. Maul not puling away gave you the last bit of courage you needed.Â
The kiss was a bit clumsy at first, just the time for him to reciprocate and move in sync with you. He moaned appreciatively against your mouth as his hands came up to cradle the back of your head with surprising gentleness. It didnât take long for his tongue to come pushing insistently between your lips, and you gladly let him in. On your end, your fingers had slipped beneath the soft fabric of his tabard, exploring the smooth skin of his chest. You found that he was already running hot beneath your touch. Maul pressed you flush against him, his teeth grazing the side of your neck, alternating with slow licks and kisses.Â
By the time you broke apart, both of you were breathlessâand nowhere near satisfied. Maul needed no encouragement when you led him silently to the bedroom. He was already stripping off his gloves and gauntlets as he crossed the threshold, letting them drop to the floor. Next he undid the magnetic clasps of his large utility belt and sash. Once they came off, the rest of the layered tunic parted naturally, and he slid it down his muscular arms. You reacquainted yourself with the familiar scars on his chest and stomach. Some you recognised as wounds you had personally treated, others older, though there were so many that you couldnât tell them all apart.
Maul watched you watch him with hungry eyes. But he was nothing if not disciplined, and waited for you to decide what came next. You made quick work of your night pants and stepped out of them, now completely bare. His gaze darkened instantly.
You claimed his mouth again and savoured the feel of his now bare hands on your skin. One of them wandered across your chest, rough fingertips brushing your nipple in slow circles making you gasp in his mouth. He squeezed your ass and pressed his hips against you firmly enough for you to feel something hard against your front. You held him at the waist, tracing the surgical scar where flesh ended, then lower still over the matte durasteel already visible over the hem of his pants.Â
"May I?" you asked between heated, open-mouthed kisses.
"Please," he breathed against your lips, the word rough with need. "Touch me."Â
The trousers came off and Maul kicked them unceremoniously towards the pile of clothes on the floor. Then waited.
You paused for a moment, openly observingâadmiringâwhat had just been revealed to you. As expected, everything below was a blend of durasteel and carbon-weave plating, bordering on artistry. And between his legs lay a cybernetic cock, unmistakably machine yet sculpted to mimic the appendage of an organic body. The durasteel was seamlessly merged into red synth-flesh and threaded through with faint bioluminescent crimson veins along its length. You tried not to stare too long, but it was difficult not to. From a mechanicâs perspective alone, the craftsmanship was exquisite.
When you wrapped your fingers around it, you found that it was warmed to body temperature, likely through internal coils. You shook your head, that was enough cataloguing. Instead you focused on Maul. His jaw hung open in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut, confirming that his prosthetic was very much functional and sensitive.Â
He obediently let himself be pushed onto the bed, and grabbed your hips as you straddled him. You moaned in unison as you started rubbing your slickness against him, the friction deliciously novel. Maul surged upward to hold you closer as the heat started to build up.
"Please," he panted in your ear as he rolled his hips desperately against you, trembling with restraint. "Let me in. Let me make you feel good."
You didnât need to be told twice. You aligned him to your entrance and sunk down slowly until he was fully buried inside. You started riding him at a slow pace, feeling every inch. Instinctively, your hand slid up the back of his head, your fingers spreading carefully between his sharp horns to hold him close. Maul buried his face in your neck, breathing hard against your skin as he thrust up to meet you.Â
You kept this rhythm going for a while, enjoying the deep and intimate drag, before seeking more intensity. None too gently, you shoved him back against the mattress, and pinned his wrists above his head. Part of you was curious to see if he would resist, but Maul was surprisingly pliant. He had no issues letting you take control; as a matter of fact, he would have let you do just about anything to him right now.Â
This time you quickened the pace, chasing you own pleasure, though you couldnât ignore the rough edges of his cybernetic hips and thighs digging into your soft skin. Maul watched you with fascination, his yellow eyes reflecting the neon lights that danced over your skin as your body moved on top of him. His head eventually fell back in pure bliss at the new angle. He was, you realized, impossibly beautiful like this. Neck corded, veins standing out as strained whimpers spilled from his lips.Â
You cursed as you thighs began to get sore from the constant friction against durasteel. Observant as always, Maul noticed immediately. In one smooth motion, he flipped you over as if you weighed nothing, handling you with gentleness still.Â
"Let me," he murmured, voice low and rough. He guided your legs further apart. "Thatâs it⊠just like that."
He slid back inside you from behind. Slow at first, watching the way you stretched perfectly around his cock, completely transfixed. After a few measured thrusts, you begged for more, and Maul obliged. He pulled you back flush against his chest and fucked you like this, with one strong arm wrapped securely around your midsection, his other hand reaching between your legs. It didnât take long for you to come apart in his hands, clenching hard around him. Not long after, your felt his cybernetic cock pulse inside you, the internal circuits growing even hotter than before.
Maul caught you before you could collapse on the bed, easing you down with him so your head rested on his chest. You both lay there catching your breath. Beneath your ear, you could perceived the twin rhythm of his hearts beating fast.
"How was that for a show of trust?" you asked, nuzzling into his neck. You felt the vibration of his chuckle.
"Quite convincing," he replied as he kissed the top of your head. "Thank you."
You tilted your head up to look at him. "You know thatâs not the only reason I slept with you, right? I wanted this," you needed him to hear it. "I wanted you."Â
He nodded immediately, his fingers tracing slow patterns along your spine. "I know. I know, I simplyâŠ" he paused, searching for the right words. "Iâm aware I can be⊠difficult. Thank you for seeing past that. For trying. Not many do." You squeezed his hand and pressed it to your lips.
The two of you talked more afterwards, the conversation circling back to his earlier concerns about involving you too deeply in his dangerous life. You were both reasonable enough to understand the reality of things. Whatever existed between you was not going to be some everlasting romance, and neither of you needed to pretend otherwise. Still, Maul knew there were pieces of himself he couldnât keep from you. It would take time, but one day, he promised, he would tell you more about the nightmares, about his life. About the man who had taught him everything and successively taken everything away from him.Â
But for now, he would enjoy the warmth of your body against his, counting the steady rise and fall of your chest as you drifted off in his arms. And tomorrow, he thought with a small private smile⊠well, tomorrow, perhaps he would stick around, maybe even brew you a cup of Cassius tea. The idea sounded almost absurdly domestic, and it didnât bother him in the slightest.
Well, there you go, hope you enjoyed this little story! Thank you so much for reading; as always, don't hesitate to let me know what you think :)
(And thank you for all the love you guys showed for part 1, it was truly unexpected <3)
Banner by @carnally-mauls !!
@lainey-laines @darthmaulshispanichousewife , dinner is served!
Eru's native species are just about to enter their mating season. To pry you from the aliens hands, Rex needs to cover you in his scent.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Please god captain Rex + reader MAYHAPS FAKE DATING TROPE? I am grasping for straws đđđđ honestly just ANYTHINGG fluffy m
- MANTIS â CROSSHAIR/F READER đ„đ
You're a bit of a sociopath; selecting victims to swallow their last breath in a mix of fear and pleasure. Crosshair is your new target.
đŹ 0  đ 2  â€ïž 6 · Hahahaa I'm so glad u liked it! I was a tad worried u wanted to go for a softer, fluffier oneshot and I'd leave you traumat
- LITTLE SHADOW â REX/READER đ
You develop a small crush for Captain Rex. The squad has his fun with it.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · I recently saw your post on requests for Captain RexâŠand ive looked at some of your other writings and LOVE THEM! đ€đ€đ€
Mayb
- "LOVE AND DUTY" â REX/F READER đ
Rex had been a knight at the service of the crown âat your serviceâ since he was barely more than a teenager. Now he has to see you marry someone else.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Sooo this is a knight/lady request!! I'm so sorry but I accidentally eliminated the first version of this and it was anonym
- LOUD SECRETâ REX/READER đ
You and Rex had managed to keep it a secret for quite some time; but then Fives notices it, and then it's all but a bet with the rest.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · ok i saw that you want captain rex requestsâŠ. đ my time to shine
i think itâd be so cute if you did a rex x jedi reader in
â THE SHAPE OF A GHOST â REX/READER (f) đđ
A few years after order 66, you believed Rex to be dead. But your settlement is destroyed, new clues arrive, and so you start the chase. You just pray he is real, and not a ghost.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Post by @oceansssblue · 1 link · Captain Rex and reader (who had some role in tcw- medic, jedi, linguist, strategist, liais
â HOLD YOU THROUGH THE PAIN âREX/READER (f) đđ
You break down after an argument with your toxic boyfriend. Thankfully, there's a wonderfull shoulder to find comfort on.
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Hi lovely! I saw your post from a few weeks ago about Rex reqs!! If youâre comfortable, could you write a hurt/comfort ambi
Hi lovely! I saw your post from a few weeks ago about Rex reqs!! If youâre comfortable, could you write a hurt/comfort ambience fic (not too much plot/backstory if that makes sense?) about Rex comforting fem!jedi!reader who is in an abusive/toxic relationshipâmaybe just had a recent argument and comes to him cryingâand just being the stability and safety she needs while navigating a bad situation? Lots of hugs/cuddling and physical comfort! In desperate need of soft gentle empathetic Rex đ„čđ„čđđ»
Hi there! â€ïž Alrighty! My first thought was "what do you mean shes in a relationshippp thats not a jedi alowed thingg" and then I was like "well you do write jedi/clone fics all the time even if they hace to play with the forbidden thing" so oh wellllllll xD
Here you have your hurt/comfort fic, I hope you like it! Xx, Blue.
"HOLD YOU THROUGH THE PAIN" â REX/F READER đđ
WARNINGS: references and memories of a toxic/abusive relationship (not physical). Mainly focused on the comfort. No self-hurt, but there's a tiny bit in the beginning that tiptoes, so just be aware.
The maintenance cabinet wasn't meant for people. That much became painfully obvious after the first ten minutes.
The compartment was little more than a narrow storage space tucked between two sections of corridor. A few old supply crates occupied one wall. Dust lingered in forgotten corners; exposed pipes running overhead, disappearing into shadows near the ceiling.
The air smelled faintly of metal... And your own misery.
You sat on the floor with your knees pulled tightly against your chest, arms crossed over them in a hug that tried to keep everything together.
At some point, you'd stopped trying to keep the tears quiet. There wasn't anyone here to hear them anyway, and you were sort of in an uncontrolled panic attack. Your heart burned, and you had to resist the urge to claw it out of your chest.
The argument replayed endlessly in your head. Every word. Every look. Every moment that had somehow spiraled into another fight.
You still didn't understand what you'd done wrong. That was the worst part. You genuinely didn't know.
One moment everything had seemed normal. The next he had gone cold. Dismissive. Sharp.
Every answer you'd given had apparently been the wrong one.
Every attempt to fix things had somehow made them worse.
And then he'd left, leaving you alone with the awful feeling that somehow, once again, you had failed a test whose rules nobody had bothered explaining.
A shaky breath escaped you.
You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes.
Force, you were tired. Not physically, not the sort of exhaustion sleep could solve. You were tired of trying. Tired of second-guessing every conversation. Tired of wondering whether today would be a good day or a bad one.
You just didn't seem to get it right. All your good intentions were twisted in the end, all your words a problem, and you couldn't understand how it all went so wrong no matter how fucking hard you actually tried. What else could you do? What more could you give when you had already given it your all?
Another tear slipped free despite your efforts. You hold your head in your hands, nails pressing hard into your temples while your mind circled around "what more can I do" and a desperate "I don't understand". You whined in pain, unconsciously scratching the sides of your forehead until the skin turned red.
The sound echoed strangely in the cramped compartment.
Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. A Jedi Knight reduced to crying in a closet. Master Kenobi would probably have something wise to say about that.
The thought almost made you smile. Almost.
A muffled sob escaped instead.
And thenâ Footsteps. The sound echoed faintly from the corridor outside. Steady, measured, and approaching.
Your heart dropped. No. Please no. Not now. Not right now, Force please...
The footsteps slowed and stopped directly outside the door.
Silence. Then a knock.
You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course. Of course someone had to find you. You could pull your hair off out of raw desesperation.
"Hello?"
The familiar voice made your stomach sink. Rex.
You considered remaining perfectly silent. Pretending the compartment was empty. Pretending you didn't exist.
Unfortunately, your breathing was still uneven enough that nobody with functioning ears would believe it.
Another knock. Softer this time.
"Anyone in there?"
You immediately scrubbed at your face, wiping furiously at the tears. Trying to smooth your expression, to convince your voice not to betray you.
"It's me, I'm fine. Just getting some stuff".
The words came out horribly strained. Your excuse was bad as fuck.
A pause followed, long enough that you briefly hoped he'd simply leave.
Then:
"...Are you?"
You sighed quietly.
Because of course he noticed. Captain Rex noticed everything.
The handle rattled once. Locked, thankfully. Your protection from the outside world.
You could practically hear him thinking on the other side.
Then, gently:
"Can you open the door?"
You stared at the floor. The smart answer was no. The smart answer was absolutely not. The smart answer was preserving what little dignity remained.
But it was Rex. And you knew you could trust him. And you respected him too much to tell him to f away. So instead, your hand moved toward the lock.
A soft click echoed through the compartment. The door slid open, and light flooded the small space immediately. After sitting in the darkness for the last twenty minutes, it felt almost blinding.
You stood up, and watched Rex standing in the doorway.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sight of him should have been ordinary. You saw him almost every day. Yet something about seeing him now felt different. Perhaps because you'd been crying. Because exhaustion stripped away all the protective walls people âspecially Jedisâ normally carried. Or perhaps because Rex had always possessed an unsettling ability to make you feel seen.
Not as a Jedi. Not as a fighter. Just... You.
His armor was still on; freshly polished blue markings reflected the corridor lights. His helmet rested beneath one arm. A datapad occupied the other hand.
He had probably been heading back to his office; probably thinking about tomorrow's mission. Probably expecting a completely normal evening. Instead, he'd found you hiding in a maintenance cabinet.
You offered the best smile you could manage. It was terrible, you knew it. He did it too.
"Hey, Rex."
Your voice wobbled slightly. You hated that.
"So..."
You cleared your throat, trying to go again for a light, happy tone.
"On your way to your office?"
His eyes never left your face.
Studying. Observing. Taking in every detail.
The redness around your eyes. The dampness still clinging to your lashes. The flushed skin. The exhaustion. The obvious evidence of crying.
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Concern replaced confusion.
Slowly, he nodded.
"Yeah."
His voice had become quieter. Gentler.
"I wanted to have one last look at the mission briefing before tomorrow."
A pause, then brushing everything he had said aside.
"Are you okay?"
The question hit harder than it should have, maybe because he genuinely wanted an answer.
There was no frustration in his voice. No irritation. No accusation. Just concern. Simple, honest concern.
You nodded quickly.
Too quickly.
The sort of nod nobody would ever believe.
"I'm okay."
Another smile, worse than the first. Your voice cracked towards the end.
And suddenly the fragile wall you'd spent the last twenty minutes throwing away and rebuilding shattered completely.
Your lower lip trembled. You looked away immediately, determined not to cry again.
Just hold it together. Hold it together a tint bit longer, don't cry. Don't cry, come on. Come on...
Your lips trembled, twisting down no matter how hard you tried to force them to stay in place. They worked against you as if moved by an invisible cord that your heart was tugging at from the bottom. The first quiet fresh tears escaped before you could stop it.
"Oh, Force..." you half cursed-half whined, pressing a hand over your eyes and mouth.
Embarrassment burned through you. You couldn't even look at him. Couldn't bear to see the awkwardness. The pity. The discomfort.
Insteadâ
"Hey."
The word came softly, closer than before. You lowered your hand slightly, like a kid told to be brave.
Rex had stepped in and closed the door of the compartment. The tiny space suddenly felt even smaller.
He looked completely out of his depth. Like a soldier confronting a problem no amount of combat training had prepared him for. Yet he stayed.
One gloved hand settled carefully against your shoulder. Tentative. Uncertain; as though he wasn't entirely sure whether the gesture would be welcome.
"Hey."
The word came again. Gentle. Patient. There was no judgment. No frustration. No demand that you explain yourself.
Just kindness. Just "I'm here, it's okay". And after weeks of trying so desperately to be enough for someone who always seemed disappointed... Kindness felt unbearable.
The sob that escaped you was louder this time. Broken. Helpless.
Without thinking, you leaned forward, your forehead dropping and resting against cool plastoid armor.
And then you realised what you just did. Force. You should pull away. Apologize, probably, too.
But the armor beneath your forehead remained perfectly still. And then, just a second later, cautiously, awkwardly, one arm came around your shoulders. Tentative; as if he was asking permission without words. Slow enough to swat away if you wanted to.
There was something almost painfully sincere about it. No perfect speech. No easy solution. Just a tired clone captain standing in a maintenance closet trying his absolute best.
His hand shifted slightly against your shoulder blade. An awkward pat. Then another. Clearly improvising.
You would have laughed if you weren't crying.
"It's okay."
His voice was low, steady. Close enough that you could hear it above and through the armor.
"You don't have to explain anything."
Several long minutes passed like that. The ship continued humming around you. The distant vibration of engines thrummed through the walls. Voices occasionally echoed from nearby corridors. Life continued normally outside.
Yet inside the tiny compartment, time seemed strangely suspended.
Eventually the storm began to pass. Your breathing steadied. The tears slowed. Then stopped, leaving behind pure exhaustion and a big sprinkle of embarrassment.
You reluctantly pulled back, unable to meet Rex's eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Immediately:
"Don't."
You finally looked up.
Rex's expression was serious. Not annoyed, or uncomfortable. Just like he'd just been informed someone had insulted his entire battalion.
"You don't need to apologize."
The certainty in his voice caught you off guard.
A moment passed. Then another. Finally Rex glanced toward the corridor behind him; then back to you.
"Do you want to stay here?"
You looked around. At the crates. The dust. The overwhelming dignity of your chosen hiding place. Yeah, it was time to let this go.
"...Not particularly."
One corner of his mouth twitched.
"My office?" The offer came gently. "No one's going to bother you there."
You hated what the kaminoans had done with them; but felt ever gratefull for having such a good man beside you. He wasn't giving you a pat on the shoulder and letting you go. He wasn't sending you away.
Rex immediately stepped aside, giving you room. Never rushing. Just waiting.
The two of you began walking through the corridors. The ship felt quieter now. The artificial lighting had shifted into evening mode, bathing everything in soft gold and amber tones.
Crew members occasionally passed. Most offered Rex a salute. A few nodded respectfully toward you. Nobody lingered, and nobody asked questions.
When you finally reached his office, Rex keyed the door open and stepped aside. The room was exactly what you'd expected; functional, neat, and painfully practical.
A desk occupied the far side of the room. Several datapads sat stacked in perfect order. There were mission reports, troop manifests, strategic projections... A large viewport overlooked endless stars beyond.
You settled on the floor near the viewport almost immediately, too emotionally exhausted to care about chairs.
Rex placed his helmet on the desk, then removed his gloves. For some reason the simple gesture felt strangely intimate. Less Captain Rex. More Rex, the man beneath the armor.
He sat down across from you.
Eventually, you sighed.
"I had an argument with someone... " You hesitated, and carefully added. "With someone I'm dating. A boyfriend".
You didn't need to explain who. This kind of things were not well seen within the Jedi; but you always felt antinatural not having relationships. Focusing on doing the good, on self-sacrifice, protecting others... Yeah. But you were human. You needed to connect with other humans, and you didn't mean just physically. Rex understood immediately.
You looked down at your hands. Your fingers twisted together nervously.
"I don't understand why." The words emerged quietly. Small. Vulnerable. "I genuinely don't."
You took a deep breath and looked at him then.
"I really, really try to do things the right way. I just want to spend time with him, make him happy. I try" you repeated vehemently. "It's just so... Hard. I somehow always fuck up something, and then everything escalates so fast I'm splashed with things I don't even know why or where they're coming from and I don't know even what to say to excuse myself. Every thought blends into a mesh and I...".
Rex stopped you with a gentle hand on top of yours. His face showed sincere understanding, even though you were sure you weren't making much sense.
"Breathe, and start from the beginning. How did this argument began?"
It was difficult to remember at first. It had all sort of mushed together. But you thought of when you arrived to his apartment; and you just went step by step from there.
So you told him almost everything. The coldness. The shouting. The criticism. The way everything somehow became your fault. The way he ignored you for hours, sometimes days, when you did something he didn't like. How he gave you the cold shoulder and ignored you in person too, if something didn't float his boat. How everything almost always turned out to be about him. And the apologies that always came afterward. The promises. The good days. Those wonderfull, beautiful moments were you felt loved, cherished, glowing. The details he remembered, the soft caresses, the kind eyes and quiet conversations right before going to sleep. The kiss on the forehead saying goodbye.
Rex listened. The more examples you gave, the quieter he became. When you finished, he let all the info sink in for a few minutes.
And thenâ
"Have you thought about ending it?"
Your head snapped up.
"What?"
Rex sighed.
"He doesn't sound like a good man."
The words were gentle. Not judgmental, just honest.
You immediately defended him.
"He's not that bad. He... Has his moments, I admit it. But you haven't seen the good parts. And he knows when he's in the wrong, too. He apologizes, takes credit his fair share of times."
Silence. A frown.
"Look...I don't think he means it. And 'not that bad' shouldn't be a criteria to begin with."
Silence.
"Rex..." you sighed. You got how one could see it from the outside. It was easier to say 'okay, bye' than facing problems. But nothing good in this galaxy was easy, and you happened to be a knight. "It's not that simple. When he's okay... Life is good, and better. When he's not... I just know he doesn't hurt me consciously, and I just need to be patient.
Rex looked away briefly, toward the stars. Then back. His expression hardened once before gradually softening.
He knew you weren't ready. And he wasn't going to force you. Right now you needed someone to lean on to, a friend, more than you needed someone to criticise you and make you feel stupid, or attacked.
"Okay."
The answer came reluctantly; but accepting.
A few moments later he stood.
"Where are you going?" You frowned.
"Tea."
The answer was immediate. Matter-of-fact. Very Rex. Despite everything, a tiny smile escaped you. He was a soldier through and through, you guessed.
A few minutes later he returned carrying two steaming mugs. Warm herbal tea filled the room with comforting scents. He handed one to you before settling onto the floor beside you; close enough that your shoulders nearly touched.
Neither of you spoke.
The tea warmed your hands. The silence warmed something deeper.
For the first time all day, your thoughts began slowing. Untangling. Minutes passed, adrenaline dropped, and exhaustion started to take over. Without really thinking about it, you let your head drop to the side, resting gently against Rex's shoulder. Solid armor met your cheek. It was cool and uncomfortable; and yet still reassuring. He was there.
Rex didn't move. Didn't comment. Simply let it happen.
You closed your eyes. A long breath escaped your lungs.
"Wait."
You blinked, lifting your head slightly. Perhaps he needed to go. Perhaps he just wanted to change positions, move.
Rex carefully shifted away. For a second, confusion flashed through you; then he started removing armor.
One shoulder plate. Then the other. Chest plate. Arm pieces. Each released with a soft metallic click, and one by one they joined the growing pile beside him.
When he finally settled back against the wall, he looked different. Smaller somehow, less intimidating; yet still broad and strong enough to admire. But he didn't look exactly like captain Rex now; just like the man.
He re-positioned beside you, arm lifting slightly. An open invitation, this time without cold hard surfaces to lean against. A soft smile touched his face.
"I bet it's more comfortable now."
The words were sweet.
You didn't hesitate. The moment you settled beside him, warmth replaced cold plastoid. Soft black undersuit. Steady breathing. Comfort.
A relieved sigh escaped you immediately.
Your head found its place against his shoulder. You gave up and nuzzled his neck. One of his arms settled loosely but protectively around you. You felt some of the tension leave him too, a long breath escaping his chest as if he'd been carrying worries of his own.
"Thank you, Rex."
His arm tightened slightly around your shoulders, inevitably pressing you tigther against him. Not enough to trap, but enough to reassure, to make you feel cared for.
The stars continued flowing beyond the viewport. Infinite. Silent. Beautiful. Rex traced soft, slow patterns with his thumb on your shoulder. He could put you to sleep with that and the sound of his breathing alone.
For the first time all day âno matter how much you knew about using your lightsaberâ you felt safe.
After a while, Rex finally spoke. His voice was low enough that you almost missed it.
"Meshla, if things get difficult again..."
You listened quietly, face almost hidden in the warm spot between his chin and his shoulder.
"If you need somewhere to go, someone to pick you up, someone to talk with..."
A small pause.
Then:
"I'm always a com away."
Your eyes felt wet, but this time you didn't cry, because you were too happy for that. He had done so good by you... Rex was such a good man. He was truly a gem.
Rex took a very hard decision that day. If you weren't yet ready, if he couldn't make it go away... At least he'd hold you through the pain. He would keep you on his watch, be your shoudler to find comfort in; until you were ready to take that step, and he'd help you right through it.
You smiled and took one of his big warm hands in yours. You squeezed slowly and affectionately.
Taraaaa! I know you did this request quite some time ago (sorry, I was finishing college lol, I'm graduated now!) but I actually did it all in a day. I felt so inspired! Hope it is what you had been waiting for. See you in the next one!
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Captain Rex and reader (who had some role in tcw- medic, jedi, linguist, strategist, liaison) reuniting in a brutal attack
The observation deck was empty, not unusual at this hour. Most of the ship was asleep or attempting to be.
The war didn't stop at night, but exhaustion eventually forced even the most stubborn soldiers to rest.
The viewport stretched from floor to ceiling. Beyond it, hyperspace flowed endlessly around the cruiser. Rivers of blue light. Brilliant. Beautiful. Almost enough to make someone forget where they were going.
Almost.
You leaned against the transparisteel with a mug of rapidly cooling caf cradled between your hands.
The warmth had long since disappeared. You kept holding it between two hands anyway. An old habit that made you feel... Safer.
"You know," you said, "one day I'm going to stop pretending I don't hear your armor from halfway across the ship."
A familiar chuckle answered.
"I'd have to find another way to announce my arrival."
The footsteps approached. Heavy. Measured.
Rex stopped beside you. For a while, neither spoke; but the silence wasn't awkward. It never was anymore.
The stars flowed around you.
You had just finished a campaign; but another one was waiting ahead. The war had become a chain of beginnings and endings that all looked the same.
Rex rested his forearms against the railing, looking out at hyperspace. He was pensive. Something hard to fix.
You studied his profile quietly. You could stare at him for hours.
"Bad debrief?" You asked.
One shoulder lifted.
"Bad everything."
The silence returned. Longer this time. Heavier.
You knew Rex well enough by then to recognize when something was bothering him. The difficult part was waiting. If you pushed, he'd retreat. If you waited, eventually he'd talk.
"Do you think we're winning?"
You blinked.
The question surprised you enough that you actually turned toward him.
Rex was still looking out the viewport. Watching the stars. Not looking at you. As if that made the question less dangerous.
For a moment you weren't sure how to answer.
Because the Republic line was obvious. Of course we're winning. The Separatists are retreating. More worlds are returning to the Republic every month. Victory is only a matter of time.
The sort of thing politicians loved saying. The sort of thing neither of you believed anymore.
You looked back toward the stars.
"What kind of answer do you want?"
Then, simply...
"The real one."
Of course he did. You sighed.
"The real one is that I don't know."
A small nod. Not surprised. Not disappointed. Just listening.
"We win battles," you continued quietly. "We take worlds back. Push the Separatists farther out. And yet somehow everything feels worse."
Rex was silent, which was answer enough. You glanced toward him.
"You think it too."
Another nod. This one slower.
"Yeah."
The word barely rose above a whisper.
For a while all you could hear was the ship. The engines and the endless sound of movement.
Eventually Rex spoke again.
"I used to think there'd be a point where it felt like we were getting close."
His gaze remained fixed on the viewport.
"Like we'd know. But every campaign just feels like another campaign. We're suposed to be winning, but I don't feel very victorious".
A humorless smile touched his face. You looked down into your cold caf. The dark liquid reflected distorted lights.
"Maybe that's just how war is."
"Maybe. I'm tired of war".
The silence stretched again. You knew how hard it must have been for Rex to admit that out loud. He was always so strong âhe had to be, most timesâ he rarely admited anything. But he did to you, just sometimes, in quiet, vulnerable moments like this.
"What would you like to do after?"
That finally made him glance at you. It felt childish, asking that. Too innocent and naive. No-one knew about any after. War was brutal, umpredictable, and weird.
He looked as if you'd asked what he planned to do after gravity stopped working.
You smiled.
"You've never thought about it." You guessed.
"I've been busy." He answered dryly, and you conceeded him the objection nodding in understanding.
"I'm tired of war" he added after long, thoughtfull seconds. "But I don't know who I am without it".
He paused. You knew he didn't need comforting there. He didn't need false words and promised. He had been literally bred for this, for war, and had been pushed, by obligation, duty or honor, to do this. It had shaped him all his life.
"What about you?" he asked.
You looked back toward the viewport. Toward the stars. A future that suddenly felt strangely difficult to imagine.
A small smile touched your lips.
"I wanted a little house somewhere. Sunlight, trees, quiet" you glanced at him and shrugged admiting it. "Life has always gone a bit too quick for my taste. I wanted boring."
Rex smiled.
"Boring sounds nice".
You nudged his shoulder lightly. He nudged back.
"What about now?" he asked then.
The question was gentle. Personal.
You thought about the war. The losses. The years.
Then, quietly:
"I don't want to burry any more friends. I don't want... I don't want to see others burrying theirs."
Rex shifted beside you. His hand moved, and he carefully placed it on top of yours in the railing. You took a deep breath in, focusing on the gesture, and turned towards him. The expression on his face was strangely soft.
As though he understood exactly what you'd meant. Of course he did.
"I want you to be safe".
You weren't telling him a wish, now. You were imploring him. You needed him to survive, to be okay.
His eyes observed you for a minute in silence. Both of your eyes were holding a quiet conversation. He could read there was more into what you had said, what you could say out loud right now, and he...
He had waited long enough.
"When this is over..."
He hesitated. Just briefly. As if the thought felt unfamiliar in his mouth. As if he wasn't sure he'd be corresponded.
"When this is over," he repeated, quieter now, "I'd like to see that house."
Your heart stopped. Just for a second. Not because of what he'd said, only, but because of how naturally he'd said it. As though he already expected to be there. As though your future somehow, inevitably, included him.
The realization stole every prepared response. Every clever remark. Every joke. This was the end of all your wondering. He had feelings for you, just like you did; no matter how temptively you'd moved around each other, how this moment, amidst war, was.
In the end all you managed was a smile. Small. Soft. Entirely helpless.
"Yeah?"
Rex nodded. His hand squeezed yours in a promiss.
"Yeah."
Outside the viewport, hyperspace stretched endlessly into tomorrow. That night, you felt the luckiest woman in the galaxy; but neither of you knew that tomorrow was running out. And faster than you thought.
Varka's capital never slept. From orbit it looked beautiful; a sea of lights stretching endlessly beneath the clouds. A glittering jewel suspended in darkness.
Up close it was something else entirely. Noise. Crowds. Rain. The sort of place where ten thousand people could disappear without anyone noticing âwhich was probably why so many people came hereâ.
The lower levels of the city lived in permanent twilight, towering structures blocking what little sunlight reached the streets.
Neon signs flickered against wet durasteel. Steam rose from vents beneath elevated walkways.
The air smelled faintly of machinery, rainwater, and overcrowded humanity.
Perfect for you, because nobody paid attention to strangers here. The few who did generally minded their own business.
You kept your hood low as you moved through the crowd. Dark fabric concealed most of your face. You weren't as recognisable as the Jedis or the high clone command; but you could never be too carefull.it was a habit you'd developed years ago. Attention got people killed.
The steady drizzle tapped softly against your cloak as you followed the navigation marker on your old datapad.
Around you, life continued in a thousand different directions. Merchants shouting from stalls, speeders roaring overhead. Children darting through crowds âstealing a thing or twoâ. A musician playing something melancholy beneath an awning.
You followed until the marker stopped moving; then looked up.
The building in front of you was a surprise; a narrow structure wedged between two larger ones. Its durasteel exterior had long ago surrendered to rust and neglect; and a faded sign hung above the entrance. Half the letters no longer worked.
It was exactly the sort of place people chose when they didn't want to be found.
You slipped inside.
The cantina was dim and warm, crowded enough to discourage questions. A haze of smoke drifted beneath the ceiling. Muted conversations blended together into a constant background murmur.
Nobody looked twice at you.
You scanned the room; then found him.
The contact sat alone near the rear wall. Older. Gray-haired. One mechanical eye glowing faintly blue beneath the low lighting.
He looked exactly like the sort of man who knew too much, and exactly like the sort of man who preferred not to share it.
You crossed the room, and quietly but confidently pulled out the chair opposite him. Sat.
The man glanced up. Expression neutral, uninterested. Carefully so.
"You took your time."
His voice carried the roughness of someone who had spent years breathing bad air.
You removed your gloves.
"You're difficult to find."
He hummed.
"Usually on purpose."
A server arrived, and dropped a cup of caf onto the table. The contact hadn't orderdered it, and neither had you.
The server immediately vanished again. Neither commented. The city seemed built on unspoken agreements.
For several moments, neither of you spoke.
The contact studied you. Waiting. Measuring. Deciding. You had encountered enough informants over the years to recognize the routine.
The less they spoke, the more valuable the information usually was.
Finally, he leaned back.
"What are you looking for?"
Straight to the point, no rodeos. Good. You had no time to waste. You had already been searching for a long time now.
"A clone." You answered.
No reaction. Not even a blink. Impressive.
The contact folded his hands together.
"Lots of clones in the galaxy." He replied vaguely.
You half agreed, one shoulder into a shrug and then adding...
"Not this one."
Still nothing.
You slid a datapad across the table. Several coded names appeared. Several reports. Several incidents connected through a year of investigation.
The contact glanced down, then away. Too quickly. A tiny movement. Almost invisible. Almost a flinch.
But you caught it, the same way you used to caught hesitation in briefings. How you caught lies during negotiations. Years of experience had taught you what people looked like when they were hiding something. You were an analyst and a strategist, and you had done your work.
For the first time since beginning this search, your pulse quickened. Because this man knew something. You could feel it. Something good.
The contact pushed the datapad back.
"I can't help you."
A lie. Not a good one, just practiced. You stared at him.
The rain outside intensified. Water streaked across the windows. The city beyond became a blur of colors and lights.
"You recognized the reports." You point out, calmly.
"No."
"You did." A pause, and you added. "You looked at the third one longer."
The contact's jaw tightened. Another crack.
Hope stirred painfully inside your chest. Dangerous. Sharp.
You tried to refrain yourself, because hope was the cruelest thing in the galaxy. It lifted you just high enough to make the fall hurt.
But the contact looked away, and you just knew there was something there.
He glanced toward the window, the rain. Anywhere but you.
You kndw why he wasn't talking. Fear. Not for himself, but for someone else.
He knew him. He actually knew him. The realization settled quietly into place.
You lowered your voice, barely more than a whisper.
"He's alive." Not a question. A fact.
The contact said nothing. Didn't move. Didn't react. Yet somehow the silence became answer enough.
Your breath caught. The city noise faded into the background. For one impossible moment all you could hear was your own heartbeat.
Alive. Alive. Alive, after all these years.
Until this very moment, all this chase had been based on not much more than a whim. Some clues, yes, but nothing tangible, nothing sure. Now, the possibility was a reality.
You were somehow afraid to ask now, like the answer might vanish if you moved too quickly.
The contact finally looked at you. Whatever he saw in your eyes must have surprised him, because his expression softened. If only slightly.
"How long have you been searching?"
You laughed. The sound emerged strained. Broken.
"Long enough. Everyone thought I was crazy. I thought so too, at first."
You rubbed a hand across your face. Exhaustion crashed over you all at once.
Months of chasing rumors. Years of grief. Years of convincing yourself you had moved on.
You met his gaze.
For the first time since the start of this chase, you abandoned strategy entirely.
No manipulation. No negotiation. No careful wording. Just truth.
"Please."
The word sounded small. Smaller than you intended.
"I don't need names."
The contact watched quietly.
"I don't need specific coordinates."
Your voice tightened.
"I don't need you to bring me to him."
The rain hammered against the windows. The city lights shimmered beyond the glass.
"I've spent years thinking he was dead."
The admission hurt. Far more than it should have.
"I just need a direction. I can't lose everything again. Him again".
The contact's expression changed. The sort of look people got when confronted by something painfully human.
You looked down briefly. Then back up.
"Tell me which planet."
Silence.
Then:
"I'll do the rest."
The words hung between you. For a long time neither moved or spoke.
Finally the contact exhaled. Slowly. Like a man surrendering an argument he'd already lost.
His mechanical eye flickered.
The city hummed outside. The rain continued falling.
And thenâ
Very quietlyâ
He reached for the datapad.
Hope surged so sharply it almost hurt.
"Small moon of a small planet lost in the Outer Rim".
His gaze met yours. Understanding passed between you.
Then he entered a single word onto the screen. A place far beyond the usual trade routes.
You stared at the name. The end of the trail. Or the beginning of something else entirely.
The contact stood up. You could't see much about him either; camouflage was in these days. For a moment you thought he might say something else. Offer advice. A warning. Anything.
Instead he simply said:
"If you're right..."
You looked up. The man studied you carefully. Then glanced toward the revealed moon in the datapad. Toward the future.
"If you're right, he's been looking too."
A faint smile touched his face. Misterious, fond. Then he disappeared into the crowd.
You stared at the name of that tiny, unimportant moon lost in the middle of nowhere, your heart filled with renewed determination.
You weren't searching for a ghost. You were searching for a man. And you were just one step away from finding him.
This was a world you had never planned to visit. Dust clung to your boots. Your small ship was cooling behind you; your heart hammering so hard you thought you might pass away.
Months of chasing ghosts had led here. Months of rumors, of fragments. Strategies. Witness accounts. Half-erased transmissions. Contacts.
All pointing to this place. To this settlement. So far away you hadn't even noticed it existed. But there were survivors all the way to this corner of the galaxy too; and if someone felt the need to hide from the heat of the Empire... It was definitely here.
You felt terrified. If this lead was wrong too... You weren't sure you could survive it. It would mean a dead end. That he was dead.
You were half prepared for it. But then you saw him. Across the settlement, half-hidden by sunlight and moving bodies. Talking to another clone.
Older. More worn. More tired. But him. It was him.
The galaxy seemed to stop.
Everything became distant.
Muted.
Like you were underwater.
You couldn't breathe.
Couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
Years of grief crashed into you all at once.
Every night you'd spent wondering.
Every nightmare.
Every prayer.
Every moment you'd wished for one more chance.
Tears blurred your vision. You didn't wipe them away.
A laugh escaped you instead. Small. Broken. Disbelieving. Because somehow, impossiblyâ
Rex was alive.
A smile pulled at your mouth. Wet with tears. The kind that hurt. The kind that healed.
The clone beside him noticed you first. His posture shifted immediately, alert. Suspicious. His head turned toward Rex. Told him something you couldn't hear. A warning, probably; someone was staring, someone unfamiliar, someone crying.
Rex glanced over absentmindedly. The way you look when someone calls your attention to something unimportant.
Then he froze. Completely.
The conversation died. The world died with it.
For a second, he didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe. You watched the color drain from his face.
Watched disbelief shatter into something rawer. Something painful.
His friend kept talking. Asking questions. Rex didn't answer. Didn't even seem to hear him.
His entire world had narrowed to a single point.
You.
Slowly, he started walking. Like a man in a dream. In a trace.
Like someone approaching a miracle he was afraid would disappear if he moved too quickly.
Your chest ached, because you knew that look. You'd worn it yourself every time you'd followed another clue. Every time hope had whispered that maybeâ
Maybe.
His steps faltered once. Then continued. Closer. Faster. Closer.
Neither of you spoke.
What words could possibly fit between years of mourning?
Between funerals you'd held in your heads?
Between all the lost time?
By the time he reached you, you were openly crying. So was he.
His hands lifted slowly. Trembling. You knew why; it was fear that you weren't real. Fear that if he touched you, you'd vanish. A hallucination. A cruel trick. Another ghost.
His palms hovered beside your face, not quite touching.
You saw his jaw tighten. Saw him struggle to breathe.
Then, carefullyâ
So carefullyâ
He cupped your face.
Warm.
Real.
His eyes squeezed shut, like the sensation itself had broken something inside him.
A strangled sound escaped his throat. Not quite a laugh, not quite a sob.
His forehead dropped against yours.
And for a long moment neither of you said anything.
You simply stood there.
Existing.
Alive.
Together.
"I thought..." his voice cracked violently.
He swallowed. Tried again.
"I thought you were dead." He whispered, hurt and happy in equal ways.
The words shattered what little composure you had left.
A sob escaped you.
"I know."
His grip tightened instantly, as if the very idea of losing you again was unbearable.
"I looked for you," you whispered.
The confession slipped out before you could stop it. You'd found him years late. Years too late.
"I looked everywhere."
His face crumpled. Suddenly Captain Rex was gone. There was only Rex. Only a man who had spent years grieving too. Years surviving. Years carrying a loss that had never truly healed.
He smiled through the tears, and caressed your cheek with his thumb as if you were to him the most delicate thing in the world.
His answer was whispered vehemently, and hold so much love and understanding...
Captain Rex and reader (who had some role in tcw- medic, jedi, linguist, strategist, liaison) reuniting in a brutal attack on the underground clone network after order 66, thinking the other was dead. ANGSTTTT AND FLUFFFF
Thatâs it. Thatâs the request.
Okay, sorry for taking so long but... Your request inspired me for a long story instead of a short oneshot, so... Hope you like it!!!
THIS IS JUST THE FIRST PART, THE SECOND IS TAGGED AT THE END!
"THE SHAPE OF A GHOST" â CAPTAIN REX/ (f) READER đđ
The first thing most people noticed about the tunnels was how loud they were. The generators. The pipes. The distant hum of machinery hidden somewhere deep within the rock.
Everything vibrated. Everything groaned. The entire underground settlement seemed permanently on the verge of falling apart.
You loved it. Maybe because it reminded you of old Republic cruisers. Maybe because after years of running, hiding, and surviving, it was one of the few places left in the galaxy that felt like home.
The tunnels stretched for kilometers beneath the surface of an unremarkable moon whose name most maps had long since forgotten. The Empire certainly had. At least, that's what you hoped.
The old mining complex had been abandoned decades ago. Most of the original structures had collapsed, leaving behind a maze of natural caverns and reinforced passages.
Perfect for people who needed to disappear. Clones. Refugees. Runaways. Anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves on the wrong side of Imperial attention.
The underground network wasn't one location. It was dozens. Hundreds. Hidden routes. Safehouses. Supply caches. People helping people. One thread connecting countless survivors.
This particular settlement was simply one knot in that web. One you had called home for nearly two years now.
A child nearly collided with your legs as you rounded a corner.
"Sorry!"
He darted away before you could respond. His laughter echoed through the corridor.
For a moment, you simply watched him go. Healthy. Fed. Safe. That counted for something.
A voice called your name. You glanced up.
One of the clones, Drop, was approaching carrying two crates stacked precariously in his arms. There was no doubt he was strong, but... His beard had started to go gray. The expresion lines on his face were more noticable than ever. He looked as handsome as they all were... But worn, tired. The years showed on all of them now. They had never been given enough time to grow older slowly.
"You still heading to Junction Four?" he asked, balancing the crates on one hip so he could rest his arms for a bit.
You nodded.
"Generator's acting up again." You told him, and Drop groaned dramatically.
"I swear that thing waits until I fix something else."
You smiled quietly.
"That's because it hates you."
He rolled his eyes.
"Pretty sure everything hates me."
You snorted.
He grinned.
For a brief second, the expression transformed him. Not into a soldier. Not into a survivor. Just a man.
"Well, better get this to its rightfull place. See you around, Strat".
Then he continued down the corridor. And the moment passed. Most moments did.
Life after the war was made of little moments. Little victories. Little disasters. Little reminders that somehow you were all still here.
Years ago you would have hated that. Years ago you had dreamed bigger. The Republic. The war. The future. Staying hidden like this would have not set well with you, then.
Now? Now you were grateful whenever an entire week passed without anyone dying. Funny how perspective changed...
You reached Junction Four twenty minutes later. The generator was exactly where you'd left it. Ancient. Temperamental. Held together by determination and spare parts. Much like everyone living down here.
You crouched beside the exposed panel and immediately found the problem. A burned connector. Again. Of course.
You sighed.
Your tools were halfway out of your bag when the lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then steadied.
You frowned. That wasn't normal. The backup systems should have compensated.
Another flicker. This time, accompanied by a distant vibration.
Not machinery.
Not the usual background noise.
Something else.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Years of war had taught you to trust instincts. And your instincts were suddenly screaming.
A second later, the alarms began.
The sound ripped through the tunnels like a knife. Every light shifted red.
Your blood turned to ice.
No.
No, no, noâ
Footsteps exploded through nearby corridors.
Voices.
Shouting.
Someone sprinted past the junction.
"Imperials!"
The word hit harder than any explosion. For one terrible moment nobody moved. The settlement seemed frozen. Disbelieving.
Then chaos erupted.
Training took over before panic could. You grabbed your bag and ran.
The tunnels transformed instantly. People flooding the corridors. Children crying. Clones and other commanders shouting orders. Emergency bulkheads slamming shut.
The sound of distant blaster fire echoed through stone.
They'd found you. After all this time. They'd found you.
You rounded a corner and nearly collided with a crowd moving in the opposite direction.
"Civilian route's blocked!" Someone explained in a shout.
"What?"
"Collapse near Section Eight!"
Other reports and orders were shout then.
"Move them through the east tunnels!"
East tunnels.
Your brain froze. Something about that order snagged in your mind.
The route.
The placement.
The sequence.
Your thoughts barely registered it before another explosion shook the cavern.
Dust rained from the ceiling. Someone screamed. The moment vanished. You kept moving.
The settlement became a battlefield. A familiar one. Too familiar.
Every exhausted expression. Every frightened face. Every impossible decision. For a little while, it felt like the war had never ended. Like the last twelve years had simply disappeared. The realization made you sick.
By the time the final evacuation transport departed, smoke hung thick in the air. Sections of the tunnel network had collapsed entirely. The settlement was no longer a secret. It was lost.
The survivors weren't. That would have to be enough.
You stood near one of the exits of the transport watching families cry and find comfort together.
Your hands were shaking. Exhaustion. Adrenaline. Maybe grief. The distinctions had blurred over the years.
Someone approached from behind. Drop looked as tired as you felt.
The words settled heavily between you. Rebuild. Again. Always again.
The Empire destroyed. You rebuilt.
The Empire found you. You ran.
The cycle never ended.
Eventually, Drop patted your shoulder and moved away.
You remained where you were. Staring at the smoke. Trying not to think about how much this place had meant to people. Trying not to think about the homes now buried beneath stone. Trying not to think at all.
Then something caught your attention. Several commanders had gathered around a portable holotable, reviewing the evacuation.
You should have walked away. Instead, an old instinct kicked in and you drifted closer.
A familiar shape appeared within the hologram. The route. The fallback positions. The civilian corridors. The defensive placements.
You frowned.
Something about it felt... wrong. Not wrong. Familiar.
Your chest tightened. You stepped even closer. Studied the projection.
The sequence of retreats.
The positioning of reserves.
The exact timing between withdrawal points.
Your pulse quickened again.
No.
The thought arrived instantly.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
You knew this strategy. Not similar. Not inspired by. The same.
Years ago. During the war. A siege on a Mid Rim world the Republic was trying to save. Hours spent arguing over evacuation priorities. Hours spent refining routes and fallback contingencies. One stubborn clone captain insisting civilians had to come first. One equally stubborn (strat)egist refusing to let him throw away his men.
The memory appeared so suddenly it almost hurt. You hadn't thought about that night in years. Yet you remembered every detail. The arguments. The caf. The exhaustion. The laugh he'd given you when you both finally got the plan working.
You stared at the hologram. Your mouth had gone dry. Nobody else seemed to notice. Nobody else could.
To them, it was just another strategy. Another evacuation. Another battle.
To you...
Your stomach twisted. It was painfully specific. A dozen tiny secuencial decisions woven together. A dozen choices unique to one conversation. One person. One man. Captain Rex.
The thought struck so hard you almost laughed.
Rex.
After all these years.
After all this time.
Ridiculous.
The galaxy was full of former officers. Former commanders. Former soldiers.
Someone else had probably developed the same idea independently. You were smart, but not that uniquely-smart. That was all.
Nothing more. Nothing impossible. Nothing dangerous. Just a coincidence.
You tore your gaze away. Forced yourself to breathe. Forced yourself to move.
Yet, as you jumped on the space ship, one thought lingered stubbornly in the back of your mind. A thought you had buried years ago. A thought you never allowed yourself to entertain.
The first few weeks aboard the cruiser had taught you three things.
First, nobody slept enough.
Second, every system aboard the ship seemed permanently one malfunction away from catastrophic failure.
And thirdâ
Captain Rex was impossible.
Not in a dramatic way. Not in a terrifying way. Just... Literally, unironically impossible.
Everywhere you went, people seemed to have a story about him. Rex had stayed behind alone to cover a retreat. Rex had volunteered for a mission nobody wanted (and sucedeed). Rex had somehow gone forty-eight hours into battlefield without sleep.
Again. Rex this. Rex that... You weren't sure whether he was a clone captain or a Republic myth.
But then you started seeing him around the cruiser. Every time, he seemed to be moving somewhere at impossible speed with a datapad in one hand and ten different responsibilities hanging over his head. No time to look elsewhere. No time to talk, to smile. The man was exhausting just to watch.
Which was why it surprised you when you found him asleep.
The medical bay was quiet for once. A rare miracle. Most of the wounded had been treated and transferred. The night shift had taken over. Even the endless hum of the cruiser felt softer than usual.
You were carrying a stack of reports of medical materials recently used and in need when you noticed movement in one of the recovery alcoves.
At first you thought someone had forgotten to return a patient to their quarters. Then you recognized the armor perfectly stacked into a neat, practiced pile on the floor.
Blue markings. Jaig eyes. Your steps slowed.
Captain Rex was sitting on an empty bunk. Arms folded. Head tipped back against the wall. Asleep.
It was rare, he was rare, so you stared.
The sight felt strangely illegal. Like discovering something that no one had given you permision to see.
His helmet sat beside him. The overhead lights casted soft shadows across his face.
Without the armor and the constant motion, he looked surprisingly younger. Not a fierceless soldier. A young man. Human. Tired. Far too tired.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes. A healing cut along his jaw. Bruises he was surely pretending that didn't exist.
For the first time since arriving, he looked less like a commander and more like a man carrying far too much weight.
You should have left. Instead you found myself standing there. Watching. Not in a creepy way. At least you hoped not. Just... Curious. Pensive.
The stories never mentioned this version of him.
A moment later, his eyes opened. Your heart jumped, body frozen in place.
Rex blinked once. Twice. Clearly disoriented. Then, his military instincts slammed back into place.
He sat upright immediately. He frowned, looking at you, before inmediately...
"Sorry," he said automathically, as if he had been caught slacking.
You tilted your head.
"To whom?" You pointed out, looking around as in an answer. "You were sleeping."
He frowned harder.
"Wasn't supposed to be."
That only made you smile. His expression suggested he didn't understand what was funny. You shifted the reports under your arm.
"You know, most people don't apologize for sleeping." You felt brave enough to tease him.
He looked at you as if it were obvious.
"Most people aren't responsible for hundreds of lives."
The response came automatically. Like he'd repeated it so many times it had become part of him.
Something about that bothered you. You weren't entirely sure why.
"That's a terrible excuse."
One of his eyebrow lifted.
"I believe there's no better one" he answered, convinced.
"You're a perâson." You emphasised the last word pointedly.
"I've been told." Some sarcasm and amussment entered his expresion, and that gladly surprised you too.
"Then don't feel guilty when you do people like -things. Like, you know, eat and sleep. It's not like you're getting drunk with the twins."
He actually chuckled at that. Small, reserved, but a chuckle nonetheless.
"I can't seem to place your name, but I see you have had the pleasure of meeting the Dominos already".
You shrugged and smiled.
"Fives popped into my office last week stating he shouldn't waste the oportunity to meet any, and I quote, 'pretty hot woman who make boring officer clothes look that good'".
A faint smile appeared again. Tiny. Brief. Gone almost immediately.
Still, you had almost never seen him smile like that. And somehow that felt like an achievement.
"I work with Intelligence" you finally introduced yourself. "Everyone here calls me Strat."
That earned an actual chuckle.
"That's a horrible name".
You shrugged.
"I've grown to quite like it."
A small pause, a small nod hiding a smile.
"Well, welcome aboard, Strat"
"Thank you, Captain" you joked pulling the little salute thing soldiers did.
However, that day you stopped seeing a soldier. And you started seeing him.
That was the strange thing about tragedy. No matter how devastating it felt in the moment, eventually it became old. A list of casualties. A list of survivors. A list of things lost.
The clone network endured. Damaged, but alive. Just as it always had.
And life continued. People rebuilt. People adapted. People survived.
The galaxy moved on. It always moved on. The trouble was that you couldn't. Not entirely, at least.
Two months after the attack, you found yourself sitting alone in a cramped supply office on one of your temporary safehouses, staring at the same report for the fifth time.
Outside, rain hammered the durasteel roof.
The safehouse had once been an agricultural processing facility before being abandoned decades earlier. Now it housed nearly a hundred displaced refugees.
The corridors smelled faintly of rust and recycled air. Generators hummed through the walls.
Children played somewhere down the hall. Someone was arguing in the mess. Life. Messy. Ordinary. Alive.
You should have been grateful. You had escaped, after all, one more time. Jumped to a nearby planet with part of the group and started again.
Instead, you were staring at a holomap. A dozen of the last year network routes glowed softly blue against the dim office. You leaned back in your chair. Rubbed your eyes. Looked away. Then looked back.
You weren't searching for proof anymore. You were searching for reasons. Reasons you had imagined it. Reasons it wasn't what you were thinking. Reasons why Rex had nothing to do with any of it.
Because that was easier. Far easier.
The alternative was dangerous. Hope always was.
You shut the datapad off. The room immediately darkened.
For several moments, you sat there listening to rain striking metal. Years ago you used to love storms. They somehow felt... Fresh, like a chance to wash all your problems, all the stress, and start again. A chance to breathe.
Rex had always hated them. If it were a mild one, water slipped into the free spaces between his armor and made his undersuit stick even further to his skin. It meant moving with more difficulty, more risk. Less visibility.
If it were too big of a storm to go into battle by air, it meant grounded ships. Delays. Civilians waiting longer for help. He'd spend entire evenings pacing command centers while everyone else relaxed.
The memory appeared suddenly. Sharp. Unwelcome.
He also told you he had personal mixed feelings about that kind of weather. It reminded him of Kamino; and that was good and bad for its own reasons. It was home; yet they had not been treated fairly.
You closed your eyes. For a moment, you could almost see him. And the image hurt.
Not because it was sad; because it was easy. Years later you could still picture him perfectly. Every detail. The scar. The tired but beautifull brown eyes. The slight crease between his brows whenever he concentrated. The way his face became gentle when you talked to him about your problems. How his eyes almost shined when he smiled. The timid quiet one you sometimes managed to pull out of him, towards the end, when you droped your head on his shoulder or grazed your hands together, tempting but not quite touching yet.
Some losses faded. Others settled into your bones. Rex had become one of those. Not a wound, not anymore. Something older. Something permanent. Like a star that had burned out long ago but whose light still lingered.
The thought followed you through the rest of the week. Through supply runs. Through strategy meetings. Through endless reports.
And then the second clue arrived.
You almost missed it. A transport carrying refugees docked late in the evening. You were helping process arrivals when one of the clones mentioned another hidden settlement further along the Outer Rim.
"Almost got hit by Imperials last month," he said casually.
You knew Drop and some of the others, but you didn't know this man personally.
You glanced up.
"Oh?"
He nodded. It seemed he wanted someone to talk with. You weren't particularly sociable, after all this, but perhaps you didn't need to say much.
"Tight escape."
The clone accepted a ration pack from you. You hoped he took it as an invitation to keep talking.
"Some commander warned us in time. He wasn't from this settlement."
You frowned. Only slightly.
"Clone or nat?" You asked, expecting to hear the second.
"Didn't say his name, of course" he shrugged. "But he surely sounded like me..."
You stared in silence, and he felt sort of obligued to continue.
"I asked, but nobody knows exactly who he was. Just that the signal in our chanel came from another of our settlements."
Your stomach tightened.
"Alright" you answered, quietly, final.
There were thousands of former clone officers scattered throughout the galaxy. Hundreds. Maybe fewer now. But enough. Plenty. Still.
The conversation moved on. Your mind didn't.
When you finally climbed into bed that night, sleep refused to come.
The hardest part about grief wasn't exactly losing someone. It was losing them again. And again. And again. Every birthday. Every anniversary. Every familiar song. Every joke that reminded you of them. Every moment you turned to share something only to remember they weren't there.
The galaxy thought grief was an event. A single terrible moment. It wasn't. Grief was repetition. A wound reopening in tiny ways for years.
You had learned to live with it. Or so you thought.
But the galaxy seemed to find new ways of torturing you. The clues kept coming. Small things. Always small.
A resistance contact describing an anonymous clone captain who refused payment.
A battle report using tactics Rex, Echo and you had argued for during the war.
A coded transmission containing terminology only veterans of certain campaigns used.
Individually, they meant nothing. Togetherâ
Together they became difficult to ignore.
You began noticing them everywhere. And that terrified you. Because maybe they weren't real. Maybe you were the one creating connections. Maybe you were seeing patterns because you wanted to. Trauma did that. Loss did that. People saw ghosts all the time. Especially when they missed someone badly enough.
One evening, you pulled an old storage crate from beneath your bunk. The hinges protested. Dust coated the lid.
You hadn't opened it in years. Inside sat relics from another life. A datapad. Mission reports. Republic insignia. Photographs. Memories. At the very bottom rested a holochip.
Your fingers hesitated. Then reached for it. The projection flickered to life.
It was a video. A recording. A mesage he had sent you in between misions, when the war effort increased and he had less and less time to come to base, to spend a few hours with you, to see you.
His voice echoed in the room. Firm and deep, and yet, so calm and gentle. Warm, when he talked to you. Face exhausted, still in that beautiful yet terrible white and blue armor. Telling you he was going to be late to your usual cup of tea (his, always a coffee).
You stared, trembling.
His tired tiny little smile was directed at the camera. At you.
He looked so... real. Alive.
Your chest ached. Enough to remind you how long it had been. How thoroughly you'd buried everything connected to him.
You smiled, and you cried.
Outside, the rain had stopped. Darkness pressed against the windows. And for the first time since the attack, a thought entered your mind that you couldn't push away.
What if you were right? What if you had stopped too soon?
If Rex was alive, then, for you, everything changed. And if he wasn'tâ
Then you were just chasing a ghost. Again. Just. One. More. Time.
The command center always felt different at night.
During the day it was alive; officers moving between stations, comms constantly chirping, voices overlapping... A controlled sort of chaos.
Now it sat almost empty.
The overhead lights had dimmed automatically hours ago, bathing the room in soft amber shadows.
Most of the stations had been abandoned, their displays dark; their operators finally dragged away to find what little sleep the war allowed.
Only a handful remained active. Tiny points of blue and green light flickering across the room.
Outside the massive viewport, stars shined endlessly into infinity. Their light spilled across the floor. From here, the sight of the galaxy looked peacefull. But you knew.
You sighed and frowned at the report in front of you. Your brain felt fogged and dizzy, and the words were beginning to blur together.
You rubbed your eyes. Waited. Looked again.
Still blurry, though less. The realization should have concerned you more than it did, you supose, but at some point exhaustion became less of a warning and more of a permanent condition.
Your shoulders ached. Your neck burned. Even your eyes hurt. You couldn't remember how many days it had been since the last time you'd slept properly. Not a few hours stolen between meetings. Not unconsciousness born from complete collapse. But actual sleep.
A yawn escaped you. You made a disagreeing clicking sound with your tongue, and pushed yourself through the file you had been reading. But soon another followed.
Your blinks got slower. You gave up and lowered your forehead against the desk.Just for a moment. Just one moment.
The cool metal felt wonderful. You closed your eyes. Five minutes. Just five, and you would get through that report.
The door hissed open. You looked lazily at it, expecting to see another intelligence officer and return right to your five minute sleep.
But it wasn't a nat. It was a clone you knew, by now, all too well.
"Rex" his name was a relieved sigh on your lips.
It had been a whole month since you last saw him. Things were turning uglier. But despite battles and campaigns and impossible odds, he was still there. Still alive. And a knot you hadn't even realized you were carrying loosened instantly.
He looked exhausted. Not ordinary tired. He carried the sort of exhaustion that seemed woven into every movement. Into his bones.
Dust coated portions of his armor. A fresh scorch mark cut across one shoulder plate. His vambrace was scratched badly enough to expose the metal beneath the paint. There was dirt on his gloves. A cut near the corner of his jaw. His helmet rested beneath one arm. He looked like he'd stepped directly off a battlefield.
You gently hugged him before he had had the time to stop you.
"You're going to get all the grime on you" he warned, trying to be polite as always, but leaning down into the embrace.
Your head rested on his chest plate. You pressed your cheek right against it to make a point and told him in a confidential whisper.
"I haven't showered in five days".
You could feel his body echoing with his chuckle.
You pulled back, scanning his face before telling him in all honesty.
"I've missed you".
Something softened in Rex's expression immediately.
"I have too".
You felt that warm happy feeling you so often experienced around him. You stepped back and smiled.
"When did you get back?"
His gaze remained on you.
"A few hours ago."
A few hours. He'd returned from a campaign. Completed reports. Debriefed commanders. Done whatever impossible list of responsibilities accompanied being Captain Rex. And then he'd come here. To you.
The realization melted something inside your chest.
"You're supposed to be asleep." You sort of told him off affectionately.
One eyebrow lifted. Slowly. The hypocrisy was obvious.
"We are." He pointed, and his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Close enough.
Weeks of casualty reports arriving before confirmation that everyone was alive. Weeks of forcing yourself not to worry âno that you had actually stoppedâ...
"Are you going to finish that now?"
He asked, glancing at your desk.
You hummed in confirmation.
"Just this one last report, yeah".
Rex nodded in understanding and slowly sat down beside your desk. He rested an elbow on it and rested his chin on his hand, clearly exhausted.
"Go on, then".
You stared.
"You don't have to wait for me, Rex. I'm sure you're tired". You told him softly.
"It'll just be a few more minutes" he brushed it off. "I'll make sure you don't fall asleep on top of the datapad and then we can both go to take a shower and get some rest".
You laughed softly.
"At least buy me dinner first" you teased him for his comment, nonetheless gladly accepting his company.
He smiled and rolled his eyes, gently pushing his shoulders against yours.
"Don't be a menace, now. Focus so we can feel like humans again".
The war had taken pieces from all of you. Some visible, some not. Still, this was nice, and familiar. Something flickering quietly between us. Soft. Unspoken. Temptative. Waiting to be mentioned, and not asking to be rushed either.
With Rex, the war felt far away âthough it had never been closerâ. Just for a moment; but a beautiful and tressured one.
END OF PART ONE! Tumblr didnt let me write more here lol, so here you have the SECOND PART of this story!! :
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Post by @oceansssblue · SECOND PART OF "THE SHAPE OF A GHOST"
FIND THE FIRST PART HERE!:
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · Captain Rex and
ok i saw that you want captain rex requestsâŠ. đ my time to shine
i think itâd be so cute if you did a rex x jedi reader in a secret relationship, where reader gets assigned to the 501st and rex and reader have to try to cover their tracks, but theyâre not the best at it. maybe they sneak off together a few times just to be with one another, or simply looking at eachother very unsubtle- ly đ i can definitely see some jokes from fives, jesse, and hardcase!!!
The first time you stepped into the briefing room aboard the Resolute as the newly assigned Jedi General of the 501st, you had one goal; act normal.
You had spent the entire trip repeating it to yourself. Act normal.
It shouldn't have been difficult. You were a Jedi. You had spent years mastering control and discipline.
And yet the moment the doors slid open, your eyes immediately found Rex. Maker, there he was. Standing beside the holotable in his armor, arms clasped behind his back, looking every bit the capable captain you had fallen hopelessly in love with.
For a moment, the rest of the room disappeared. You smiled before you could stop yourself. Rex smiled back. Not his polite captain smile. His real one. The one reserved only for you.
"General." His voice was firm, and yet, still soft.
"Captain." You answered, voice controlled. Your eyes, though... That you couldn't control as much; the love and devotion with which you looked at him.
The silence stretched. Neither of you looked away.
Across the room, Fives slowly glanced at Jesse. Jesse arched an eyebrow back at him. Hardcase looked between the two of you and frowned.
At the feeling of being watched, the spell broke instantly. You cleared your throat and moved toward the holotable.
"So. Let's got through the mission?" You asked, trying to get back to professionalism.
"Yes" Rex agreed quickly.
In the other side of the room, Fives immediately pulled out a datapad.
"What are you doing?" Echo whispered.
"Nothing." Fives murmured.
"You wrote something down." The clone insisted.
"It's for personal records." Fives ended the questioning with that, and Echo sighed without resolving his suspition. For now.
You and Rex weren't trying to be obvious. You were actually trying very hard not to be.
The problem was that after months of stolen moments and secret conversations, being around each other felt natural. Too natural.
You automatically stood beside him during briefings. Rex saved a spot for you at strategy meetings. You finished each other's thoughts. Knew each other's habits. Predicted each other's decisions and suggestions.
To everyone else, it looked suspicious. To you, it was simply normal, comfortable.
One evening after a successful mission, you found yourself sitting beside Rex in the hangar while mechanics worked on damaged gunships. The rest of the battalion was scattered throughout the bay.
Technically, nobody was paying attention. At least, that's what you thought.
"You did well today," you told him softly.
Rex glanced over.
"So did you."
You let out a small laugh.
"I nearly got hit by a rocket." You pointed.
Rex shrugged.
"You dodged it".
You smiled, and his expression softened. His eyes holded the kind of warmth that never failed to make your chest tighten.
You bumped your shoulder lightly against his. Rex immediately looked away, hiding a shy smile.
Across the hangar, Fives witnessed the entire thing. He slapped Jesse's arm.
"I knew it."
"Knew what?" Echo pipped in.
"They're in love." He answered, resolute.
Echo looked over. The sight of you and Rex sitting entirely too close together made him pause.
"Oh..."
"Right?" Fives grinned victoriously.
Echo watched as Rex brushed your hand. As you turned it towards his and squeezed once.
A week later, you and Rex managed to steal a few minutes alone; which was becoming increasingly difficult. Not because of military obligations, no. Because of the clones. You were beginning to suspect they had developed a collective instinct for interrupting you.
The two of you sat together in a quiet observation room overlooking hyperspace. The stars stretched into brilliant blue lines beyond the viewport.
For once, there were no battles. No reports. No responsibilities. Just the two of you.
Your head rested against Rex's shoulder. His arm was wrapped around your waist.
The moment felt so peaceful that neither of you spoke for several minutes.
"You know," you murmured eventually, "I missed this."
Rex pressed a kiss against your temple.
"So did I."
The gesture was small. Simple. But it immediately made you smile.
You tilted your head up just enough to look at him. The affection in his expression nearly melted you on the spot.
No captain. No general. Just Rex. Your Rex.
"You keep looking at me like that."
His lips twitched.
"Like what?"
"Like you forgot how words work."
Rex smiled, and glanced to the side.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
You smiled, and pecked his cheek.
"You absolutely do."
He laughed quietly. The sound was warm and rare and entirely worth teasing him for.
Then he faced you, leaned down and kissed you. Soft. Unrushed. Perfect. The kind of kiss that made the entire galaxy seem very far away.
But the door slid open.
You jumped apart so fast you nearly fell off the bench. Rex looked ready to throw himself out the viewport.
Standing in the doorway were Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, and Echo.
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The clones simply stared. You stared back. Rex looked like he wanted a tactical retreat.
The silence dragged on. And on. And on.
Then Hardcase held out his hand.
"Pay up."
Jesse groaned. "Oh, come on."
Harcase insisted, merciless.
"You said we'd catch them next month."
Fives grinned.
"Actually, you all need to pay ME. You went for a week, Hardcase. I gave them three days".
"A very active betting pool." Fives nodded, still grinning in entertainment. "Most of the 501st was on it. I'm going to be rich or something".
Jesse shrugged at your astonishment.
"To be fair, you two aren't exactly subtle."
You felt almost offended. All that walking in your toes for nothing?
"We absolutely are!"
The four clones burst out laughing. You looked at Rex for support; only to discover he was tryingâand failingânot to laugh too. Your betrayal would not be forgotten.
You buried your face in your hands.
"This is humiliating."
"Nah," Hardcase said cheerfully. "It's actually kind of adorable. Never seen cap act like that before."
Fives smiled.
"Yeah... Never knew our faces could do that!"
Rex groaned, and the clones laughed harder. For the next several minutes, they refused to let either of you live it down. Puns flew everywhere, and you two just had to take it. Eventually, you joined in with the jokes too.
Im pretty sure the knight!rex request was meeee (ive had a very stressful month and I have a bad memory) Omg it was so good thank you so much. Im fed for months. Will be rereading it over and over again.
Yayy!! I'm so glad you managed to find it! I was worried you wouldn't get the notification or something. I'm so happy you liked it!
Also, in case you'd like to have a look, I have two Rex stories similar in theme to the one you asked. Here's the link to that specific list if u want to read them. One is a prince/servant oneshot (prompt 17) and the other is a regency au (prompt 6).
I hope your stressfull month gets better btw :)
Xx, Blue.
đŹ 0  đ 4  â€ïž 20 · Post by @oceansssblue · ~ 100 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION âTEN WINNING PROMPTS MASTERLIST
[CLONE WARS&TBB]
â Prompt 4. Angel
Sooo this is a knight/lady request!! I'm so sorry but I accidentally eliminated the first version of this and it was anonymous so I hope this somehow reaches you!!
The first time Captain Rex swore himself to your service, he was little more than a young knight standing in the great hall of House Tarka.
The memory remained sharp even now. The cobalt blue banners had hung heavy from the stone walls, the air rich with candle smoke and incense. You had stood beside your father's throne, dressed in fine fabrics and sparkling jewels that marked your station, while Rex knelt before you in polished white and blue armor.
"I swear my sword, my strength, and my life to the service of the princess".
At the time, the words had been simple. A duty. An oath. Nothing more. Years later, Rex would come to regret how easy they had been to speak.
Because somewhere between accompanying you to council meetings and escorting you through dangerous roads, between quiet conversations in libraries and long nights spent guarding your chambers, the oath had become something far more dangerous. Love had slipped into the spaces duty left behind. And Rex had never found a way to force it back out.
The castle buzzed with preparations. Servants hurried through the corridors carrying flowers and candles. Courtiers whispered excitedly about alliances, treaties, and futures secured. A royal visit was good news for everyone.
Everyone except Rex.
He stood in the training yard, supervising the guards as they prepared for tomorrow's arrival.
Prince's Reigon delegation would reach the castle by noon. Three hundred soldiers. Twenty noble retainers. Enough political importance to make every noble in the kingdom lose their minds.
Rex barely heard the discussions. For everyone else, the visit of the neighbours kingdom heir was a promise of prosperity and power. For Rex, it was a personal threat.
The captain's attention shifted automatically when he spotted you crossing the courtyard. The afternoon sun caught the embroidery on your clothes, making you look ethearilly soft and yet dangerously powerfull. You looked every bit the ruler your house needed.
Confident. Graceful. Untouchable.
His chest tightened.
You noticed him immediately. Of course you did. After all these years being your personal shadow, you could find him in any crowd now.
"Captain."
The single word drew him from his thoughts.
Rex bowed his head.
"My lady."
You smiled. A small thing. Yet it struck him harder than any sword ever had.
"I was looking for you." You answered, warm expresion on your delicate face.
The words shouldn't have affected him. They did.
"Is something wrong?" He asked, first. As your protector, this was one of the questions he had repeated most since he had been assigned to you.
"No." Your smile softened. "I just wanted to know if you'd be joining us for dinner tonight."
Rex hesitated.
For a brief, selfish moment, he wanted to say yes. To sit beside you one more time. To listen to you laugh. To pretend tomorrow wasn't coming.
Instead he shook his head.
"I still have preparations to oversee." He declined, quietly.
Something flickered across your expression. Disappointment. It vanished almost immediately.
"I see." You were quieter, even. Resigned.
Silence settled between you. An old, familiar silence. Comfortable. Dangerous. Neither of you ever seemed capable of saying the things that truly mattered.
Finally you nodded.
"I guess I should look for Erin" you smiled fondly at the name of your first maid and friend. "Don't work yourself too hard, Captain."
Rex forced a smile.
"As you command."
You touched the plate on his shoulder. Smiled. Left.
The next evening arrived far too quickly. Music echoed through the grand hall. Nobles danced beneath chandeliers.
Prince Reigon sat beside you at the high table, handsome, polite and charming and everything a future spouse was supposed to be.
Rex stood behind your chair. As always.
It was a position he knew better than any other. Behind you during council meetings. Behind you during feasts. Behind you during every journey, every celebration, every ceremony. Close enough to protect you. Never close enough to touch.
"The prince arrives tomorrow at noon."
You had spoken those words only a day earlier while reviewing documents in your study. Now tomorrow had become today. And Rex felt as though the world had shifted beneath his feet.
The prince leaned closer to you. He whispered something and you looked gladly surprised. You both watched the nobles dancing in front of you. You laughed. You smiled in a way so sincere that crushed his already sinking heart.
The court seemed delighted.
Rex's hand tightened around the pommel of his sword. He hated himself for it.
The prince had done nothing wrong. You deserved happiness. You deserved peace. You deserved a future free from war and uncertainty. That future simply didn't include him. He had always known that. And yet, he had never felt this hurt.
A servant approached with wine.
The prince made another joke. He winked at you before joining another noble lady from his kingdom for a dance. You laughed. There was already shared complicity there, and something inside Rex cracked.
Not enough to show. Never enough to show. But enough that he suddenly couldn't breathe in the crowded hall.
He stepped away before anyone noticed. Before you noticed. Before he forgot his place. Before he made a scene.
The castle gardens were quiet at night. Moonlight silvered the stone paths. Rex stood beside a fountain, staring into the water.
He should have returned to the feast. Instead, he found himself wondering how much longer he could endure this. It felt like a constant battle between his mind and his heart. Could someone live without any of the two?
Minutes later, footsteps echoed behind him.
He knew who it was immediately. He always did. His job was to stick close to you; but he noticed, if he dared to wander, you were never too far away from him either.
"You disappeared." Your voice was gentle.
Rex closed his eyes briefly.
"My apologies." He mumbled, still staring into the fountain.
"You don't owe me an apology."
When he turned, you stood only a few feet away. No nobles. No servants. No obligations. Just the two of you.
The sight hurt.
You looked beautifull, your kind soul projecting to the outside, to each wave of your pale cristal dress. It reminded him of everything he would lose.
"You should be inside," he said quietly.
Your eyes searched his. You looked pensive.
"So should you." You pointes out calmly.
Neither moved.
The fountain trickled softly between you.
Finally, after a few seconds of silence, you spoke.
"Are you unhappy about the prospect of this marriage?" You dared ask, building courage inside of you.
The question struck like an arrow.
Rex looked away.
"My feelings are irrelevant."
You frowned. You swallowed your fears and pushed. You begged.
"Rex."
His name. Not his title. Not captain. Rex. The way you only used it when no one else was listening.
His resolve weakened instantly.
"My duty is to support whatever choice secures your future." He answered carefully, eyes wandering back to the trickle of the fountain again.
You took a small step towards him.
"That's not what I asked." You replied, gentle but firm.
Silence.
Heavy.
Fragile.
Dangerous.
You took another step.
"Look at me."
He did. And that was his mistake. Because the moment he met your eyes, years of restraint began to unravel.
"I have served you for nearly a decade," he said softly, begging, hurting.
"I know."
"I would die for you."
Your expression softened.
"I know that too."
Rex laughed once. A bitter sound.
"That's the problem."
You tilted your head in question. The moment felt delicate. You could feel your own emotions buzzing, screaming for you to let years of strict rules and restraints to go.
Rex swallowed. He took a breath in, filling himself with the fierce courage he often displayed in battle. Suddenly, there was no taking the words back. No retreat. No armor left between you.
"I swore my life to you," he repeated, and then, he finally confessed. "Somewhere along the way, I gave you everything else as well."
The world seemed to stop. The fountain. The wind. The distant music.
All of it faded. Only you remained.
For one terrible second, Rex was certain he had ruined everything.
Then you crossed the distance between you.
Your hand found his.
Warm.
Certain.
Real.
"Rex..."
His name sounded different now.
Like a confession.
Like hope.
"This marriage doesn't have to go the way you're thinking."
He stared. Taking his hand and speaking about the prince... It felt like a contradiction. But he didn't think you were this vile. To hurt him this way. You were gentle, but there was no need to hold him through a goodbye.
"What do you mean?" He tried to remain calm and asked.
A small laugh escaped you. The sound trembled.
"You know, when I first learnt about Reigon's visit, I was terrified. I know what this kind of royal meetings mean. I'm in that age now. It felt like my life was about to end. My choices. My voice."
You paused and smiled fondly now.
"But Reigon has surprised me. He's sweet and understunding. Funny. I never thought royals could be funny" you laughed again, and Rex burned. You looked up at him. A new emotion, one he had never really seen on you before, shined. "Reigon is in love with lady Liana, the beautifull woman you may have seen him dance with today. He confessed this to me. He gently told me he was not opossed to marry for his kigdom, but that he would never be able to give me everything that he has already quietly sworn to someone else. Someone he truly loves and cherishes. And that I should be able to choose having the full picture".
You paused, and his already messed thoughts wound up even further with what you said next.
"That gave me a lot to think. The situation with the East Regions is unstable. Our kigdom would be safer with their alliance. So perhaps... We could indeed marry each other and still keep our true loved ones for ourselves".
For a minute, Rex genuinely couldn't speak. The implication of what you last said...
"You... Are in love as well?"
For a man who had faced battlefields and monsters without fear, he was terrified now.
"Yes, you idiot." The candor and simple camaradery shocked him. Your smile turned watery. "I've loved you for quite some years now, Rex".
The sound that escaped him this time was breathless.
Disbelieving.
Astonished.
Relieved.
Before either of you could lose your courage, he reached for your face.
Slowly.
Giving you every chance to stop him.
You didn't.
"You have?" He couldn't help but ask, wondering if this had been just some sort of trick of his own mind, something to protect him from pain and heartbreak.
You turned your head towards his hand. Your lips moved, caressing his palm. The kiss was soft. Gentle. Reverent.
"Yes, Rex. You..." your eyes flickered through his face. "I can't picture a better man".
Rex melted. His hand cupped your face with more determination, but equally softly. His eyes danced to your mouth. He breathed. He kissed.
Warm. Soft. Burning. Like something precious finally being held after years of being kept out of reach.
When it ended, your foreheads rested together.
The future still remained sort of uncertain. There would still be politics. Negotiations. Theater. Difficult conversations. Perhaps even scandal. But for the first time, neither of you would faced it alone.
Rex brushed his thumb across your cheek. You looked like a fairytale.
"My princess."
You smiled, eyes sparkling with upmost joy. A tint of redness in the cheeks.
"After that, I think you've earned the right to use my name."
His answering smile was brighter than any victory he had ever won.
And for once, the knight who had spent years standing behind you finally allowed himself to stand at your side.
As a padawan, you were trained for danger. You sparred with lightsabers, faced down battle droids, learned to let go of fear. Knowing those things and living them were very different.
The Separatist outpost was collapsing around you. Smoke clogged the corridors. Red warning lights flashed through the haze. Somewhere behind you, another section of the facility gave way with a deafening groan.
Your hands shook around your lightsaber. Your weapon casted a warm glow on the darkness around you.
"Padawan!"
Your master's voice cut through the panic, echoing in the dusty corridor from the intercom you had attached to your belt.
You swallowed hard.
"We're good!" you called out, your throat complaining after facing the aftermaths of the explosion.
"The building is falling apart! Get out of there!"
Obi-Wan's order snapped you back into motion. There wasn't time to stop and process anything. To think about how the Separatist had been already waiting for you, to ponder how did they know and how this had all been but a trap. You were all in danger, and those questions couldn't be resolved right now. Later. Not now.
So you ran. You pushed through the fear and the noise and the awful certainty that you were one wrong step away from dying. You kept moving because the clones beside you kept moving too. And they were your responsability. Obi-wan had taken Cody and his group to the other side of the Separatist base. No matter how young, you were the Jedi in charge of those of the 501st who remained by your side. And you weren't going to return to Anakin and Asohka with half of their men. Not if you were still standing. And for now, you were.
Captain Rex and you led the way throw a maze of endless corridors. You advanced swiftly with quiet precision. You got rid of the ocassional droid that crossed your path. The soldiers that followed you never wavered, pushing through exhaustion and pain. There was always enough courage for one more step.
The exit to the building was sealed off by some building remainings and debris. At your back, Hardcase reached his belt for a grenade.
"Don't" you stopped him, still evaluating the blockade in front of you. "There are still a batallion of droids out there and we're in disadvantage. The mission is compromised and we need to return to the cruiser as fast as we can. Bombing this exist would draw too much attention to us and would make our retreat harder".
Hardcase noded and Rex turned towards you. You could feel that he was worried, but he remained composed and calm.
"What do you sugest?"
Your eyes travelled throw the debris. You turned off your lightsaber and hooked it to your belt.
"I'll try to use the force to open a space. Give me a moment".
Nobody complained, though you knew most of them were unsure about this. You were just a padawan. Fifteen. A kid. They trusted you with a lightsaber. After all, learning to use a weapon was more or less easy. Achievable. The Force, however... Was a more difficult task.
You could feel Captain Rex's trust on you, though. It spread out like a moving wave form his body to yours. You closed your eyes and latched onto that trust, letting it power you and strengthen you.
You closed your eyes, slowly breathing out. You emptied your mind, yourself, allowing you to exist and feel the currents of energy, of living, around you. The Force buzzed, and kind of swam, powerfull but elegant and tranquil. You caressed it and it responded, flowing more vibrantly. You directed it in front of you, you asked for it to flow between the rocks, to open a path for you to push through.
When you opened your eyes again, the debris had rearranged and a tunnel big enough for a person to pass through had formed. Rex patted your shoulder, a new wave of admiration coming out of him. The rest of the clones behind him replicated it, along with happy relief.
"Nice work" he told you, and you nodded before leading the way out of the building again. You and Rex fought back to back until the 501st was aboard the cruiser.
Safe. Technically.
The debrief came and went in a blur. Obi-Wan praised your performance. Anakin, in the videocall, too. Several troopers clapped you on the shoulder. Fives joked around you. Someone told you you'd done well.
Adrenaline dropping and exhaustion creeping in, it all bounced off.
Hours later, you sat alone in your quarters, staring at the wall. The fear had waited patiently until there was no battle left to fight. Until it felt safe to come out. Emotions were safe now.
And they arrived all at once. Your chest hurt. Your hands wouldn't stop shaking, no matter how you tried to tell yourself that the danger had passed, that everything was okay now.
You weren't properly pannicking. But every time you closed your eyes, you saw collapsing corridors and falling durasteel and soldiers dying and the split second where you'd been absolutely certain you weren't getting out. And then there was the guilt for those who hadn't made it.
A Jedi should be able to handle this. A Jedi should meditate. A Jedi shouldâ
The thought broke apart before it finished. You weren't a master, or even a knight yet. You allowed yourself time to learn.
Restless and without really deciding to, you stood. Your door swooshed closed behind you as you started a mindless stroll through the cruiser. You let your mind wander out of the usual restrictions of your Jedi learning.
A few minutes later you found yourself outside Rex's office. The realization came only after you'd already arrived.
You stared at the door. This was ridiculous. Rex was busy. Rex had actual responsibilities. Rex was not your Master. The logic thing was to spin around and look for Obi-Wan, really. Perhaps some tea and experienced insight would help.
Before you could take a decision the door slid open. Rex looked up from a datapad. For a second, neither of you spoke.
The captain's gaze flicked over you. Tired eyes and face. Unsure wriggling fingers.
Understanding settled immediately.
"Can't wind down?"
The words were so simple. So normal. Not asking for what was wrong, exactly, for explanations. Just a knowing look, a simple way out. An offer.
Your throat tightened. You nodded.
Rex looked at you for another quiet second. He didn't feel the force like you could, but you knew he could read you like a book by now. He was intelligent and perceptive, kind, loyal and fierce. And no matter how rough his life and the situations he was permanently exposed to were, he still had empathy.
Rex stepped aside.
"C'mon in".
That was it. No more questions. No lectures. Just room.
Something in your chest lifted.
You sank into the spair chair beside his desk while Rex returned to whatever report he'd been working on. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was quiet in the way a safe place is quiet.
Eventually, Rex pushed a cup of caf substitute across the desk. You didn't think caf was the greatest idea, but accepting it felt like receiving extra help. Comforting. Seen.
"Thanks."
You took a first quiet sip. Rex glanced at you.
"Mm."
More silence.
Somewhere along the way your breathing evened out. The stress stopped. Your thoughts drifted to the man next to you instead of the horrors you had seen today.
Rex kept working. He always kept pushing, even after when missions ended. It was admirable. He was admirable.
You watched him for a while. The steady movement of his hands. The scratch of a stylus. The focused frown. The warmth of his eyes. The familiar blue markings on his armor.
The following morning, Hardcase walked into Captain Rex's office without knocking. When missions didn't went as planed, he knew he would always find Rex there.
It turned out to be a mistake. Not because the captain wasn't actually there, but because he...
"Morning, Capâ"
He stopped. Blinked. Looked again.
Blinked.
But because he wasn't alone, this time. Obi-Wan's padawan was curled up in the chair beside Rex's desk. Fast asleep. Wrapped in one of the captain's spare blankets.
Rex, of course, was already working. Nochalant, like this was perfectly normal. Like this sort of thing had happened before.
Hardcase slowly backed out of the room. The door slid shut.
He immediately found Fives.
"You're not going to believe this."
Five minutes later, half the 501st was conducting the least subtle reconnaissance mission in military history.
Jesse peeked through the small vertical window in the office door. Kix peeked after him. Fives practically unceremoniously pressed his entire face against it.
Inside, perhaps alerted by the movement, Rex looked up.
The clones started to scatter. The door slid open a second later.
"Do you need something?" The captain asked, already suspecting the reason for their visit.
"Nope."
"No, sir."
"Absolutely not."
Rex narrowed his eyes.
You stirred. Immediately, every clone froze.
You blinked awake, clearly disoriented. Rex handed you a ration bar without even looking.
"Morning." He told you, voice warm and surprisingly soft.
"Morning" You yawned, accepting it automatically.
The clones outside watched the exchange in stunned silence.
"Did..." Fives began.
"Did they just do that from memory?" Jesse whispered.
"He knew the kid would be hungry."
Rex finally looked toward the doorway. Every trooper snapped to attention.
"Away." The captain ordered with one word and a stare.
The door shut. A long silence followed.
Then Hardcase spoke.
"So."
"Yeah."
"We're all seeing this, right?"
"Yep."
Fives grinned.
"The captain adopted a Jedi."
Echo's smile was more fond, a contrast to Fives's smug one.
Angels share names in the Safe Temple. Some mean "light", some "guardians", some "peace"; and yet with this three single words, you can find so many variations. Lumi âshort for Luminousâ, belongs to the first bunch; her closest friend, Agnar, to the second. This three origins represent what all angels are; or at least, what they should be. That's their task, the reason of their existence. While demons only know of death and destruction, angels are beings of light; encharged of protecting those who deserve them and preserving the fragile peace in Coruss. It's not an easy task.
Lumi was five when she achieved her first rune. She was an early starter; most angels began their trainning at eight, and only the Great Angels had shown signs of their powers before such age. But Luminous had always been very persistent, perhaps almost a bit too headstrong for an angel; and her compassion and empathy had always been her greatest motivators. There had been someone who needed help; and so, five-year-old Lumi had furrowed her brow and studied the Old Books for months, trying to understand the laws of magic until she could create the rune and perform her spell. It hadn't been anything overly complicated. Just something to lift a humans spirit, make his toll a little less heavy; but it had pointed out her potencial, and decades later, Lumi had carved so many more runes in her skin she barely had any space left to spare.
That's how their magic work. You create the conections, the runes; then you sew them into your skin. Lumi's are almost a sparkling gold against her light brown tone; forming figures and criss-crossing with each other as they climb from her toes all the way up to her neck. When she uses them, they shine with a golden hue; a soft glow hugging her ethereal figure, iluminating her wings like a flash of energy. Ah, yes of course; angels do have wings. Not made out of feathers, not like a hard shell like most human believe them to be; but fragile and very thin, their strength residing in moving fast and agile more than serving as a shield. For that, angels conjure their own protective barriers; Lumi being an expert at that.
The thing about angels is that they can't voluntarily harm another being; no matter if the person in question is the most cruel they have come across or if it is one of the thousends of monsters that roam through Coruss. Their magic is only supposed to heal, to protect, to save; and so it is limited to producing shields, redirecting attacks, and blinding their enemies. Any sort of rune one can create that is meant to difuse and desescalate the situation rather than end it. The down-side to that is that those cruel beings are left alive to cause chaos another day; but well, that's not exactly an angels problem. That's what demons are for; why they exist.
If things in life often come in pairs and opossites, demons are angels perfect counterparts. They can't create, can't heal, can't bring light to someones life and make it better; they're just the final executioner, death dressed under millions of identical haunted faces, capes made of darkness, and weapons designed to not only kill, but hurt in the way. They don't posess their kind of magic. By design, demons are physically stronger, faster, more resistant; and their strength resides in those abilities along their use of the shadows and an endless list of weapons infused in various kinds of venoms and mysteries of the Underworld.
Lumi has only interacted with a demon twice; enough to make her blood ice cold and wish for the experience to not become a habit. Angels are able to sense other people emotions, aura, souls; they feed on those. The two demons Luminous happened to come across possesed such an angry rage, such an unforgiving cruelty, such darkness, that the angel could feel them crawling silently towards her like invisible fingers reaching towards her throat. She had felt crushed, almost suffocated by their presence; as for where darkness exist light can't, and viceversa.
Lost in thought, Luminous makes her way through the Safe Temple. It has been a while since the Great Angels summoned her to give her a new task. There's a kind of hierarchy between angels, even though no one dares to brag about it; they all have the same purpose, form part of the same comunity. It's just a matter of ability, really; some angels are more powerfull than others, and so they're usually reserved for more delicate, difficult missions, while the rest are sent on small everyday assignments. Everyone plays their part; and keep a delicate balance in two of the three Coruss's realms.
Lumi isn't extraordinarily powerfull. Not like the Great Angels, at least; but she is somewhat admired by her peers, having acomplished already so much by her short age. For an angel's life-span, her hundred-and-one years alive barely pulls her out of the naivety of adolescense; while at the same time, her mindset has matured and grown so much in the last decade she almost feels like a different being. Lumi is definitely not a teenager anymore; but a young spirit with her skin covered in golden runes and a fierce disposition rarely found in their kind. She almost feels excited at the possibility of a new task.
The young angel flies through the stairs of the Safe Temple; following the memorised path through the impecably white marble corridors towards the Great Salon. A guard nods towards her in a form of greeting; and seconds later, Luminous is standing in the middle of the room and being the center of attention of the five Great Angels. From left to right, sitting down on golden puffs, she quickly acknowdleges Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, Yoda, and Mace Windu; the first and last having formed part of Lumi's training. She awaits patiently for orders.
The silence in the Great Salon stretches long enough that Lumi begins to feel its weight settle across her shoulders. Lumi has never been particularly fond of waiting in silence. Her golden runes hum faintly, an unconscious reaction to her pulse quickening, and she clasps her hands together to keep them from glowing too bright. It was a problem she often had when she was a child.
It is Yoda who finally speaks.
âToo long without a mision, you have been, Luminous. Another path for you now, there is.â His voice is even, but his gaze carries something sharperâconcern, perhaps, or warning.
Shaak Ti leans forward, her scarlet headdress catching the pale light. âThere is one among the humans who has drawn the eyes of both realms. A scholar by the name of Anakin. He works without knowing what his hands create. He will change much, for better or worse, and we can't leave him without aid.â
Kit Fisto adds with a tilt of his head, âHe is under threat. A number of dark spirits already circle him, drawn by what he carries. You will go to him, Luminous, and you will protect him.â
The young angel straightens. She's ready to get back to the field, to do some hard and rewarding work. She can take it.
âYes, Great Angels.â
Windu raises a hand before she can bow. His dark eyes pin her in place. âYou will not be the only one sent.â
For a fraction of a second, the room feels colder. Lumi doesnât move, doesnât even breathe. The Great Angelsâ silence explains more than their words do. She doesnât need to ask the question forming in her chest.
Still, it is Plo Koon -his first mentor- who confirms it, his voice low behind his mask. His patience and calmness has always been extraordinary, even within angels. You had always admired that from him.
âAn Arc-demon walks the same path. His task mirrors yours, though his methods will not. He will try to eliminate Anakin, leave no risk at chance. But the human can still be saved. We trust you to give him a second chance.â
The golden runes along Lumiâs arms spark faintly at the thought. She remembers the suffocating rage that had crawled over her skin the last time she felt a demon near, how the shadows themselves seemed to whisper of violence. And yet she cannot help the flare of something elseâcuriosity, perhaps, beneath the dread.
The narrow alleyway was dimly lit, the walls of the surrounding buildings rising high on either side, trapping the pale light of the distant streetlamps above. The air was thick with the smell of wet stone, the distant hum of a city that never quite quieted. If one listened closely enough, one could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation floating down from the apartment aboveâthe space where Anakin lived with his two friends, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. For the moment, all was calm.
But the calm was deceptive.
In the shadows of the alley, two figures faced one another, separated by only a few feet of cold, damp pavement. The first was Lumi, her wings wrapped tightly against her back, her luminous skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She stood still, her posture tense but graceful, her wide, gold eyes scanning her surroundingsâever watchful, ever aware of the danger that was about to unfold.
Before her stood Echo. The demonâs form was nearly a silhouette in the alleyâs darkness, a tall figure cloaked in shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming from within the dark void of his hood. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and though the alley was small, it felt as though the very space between them had grown far larger in his wake.
"Youâre late," Echoâs voice cut through the silence, rich with dark amusement and barely contained menace. The words fell from his lips like poison, thick with a biting edge.
Lumi didnât move, not even to acknowledge the insult. She had no need to. She had a purposeâone far greater than engaging in mindless banter.
"Iâm not here to fight you," she said, her voice steady, each word deliberate. "Iâm here to protect him."
The demon let out a low chuckle, one that resonated in the narrow space between them, bouncing off the cold stone walls.
"Protect him? A lost cause?" His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his boots scraping against the gravel beneath him, sending a shiver through the air. "Youâre wasting your time, Angel."
Lumiâs expression remained unshaken. She shifted slightly, instinctively placing herself between Echo and the narrow doorway to the apartment building just beyond, where Anakin remained momentarily safe with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.
"You donât understand," she replied quietly, but firmly. "Anakinâs not lost. He has darkness in him, yes, but that doesnât mean heâs beyond saving."
Echoâs lip curled into a half-smile, though the expression was far from kind.
"You angels always think you can save everyone," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But youâre deluded, Angel. You think your light can save him, but it wonât. The darkness in him⊠itâs already too deep. Itâs been festering for years. Heâs mine to deal with. You have no place here."
Lumi flared her wings slightly, the light from their soft, ethereal glow casting faint shadows on the alleyâs walls.
"Youâre wrong. Iâm here to protect him," she said, her voice unwavering. "I wonât let you get to him."
For a brief moment, the demon said nothing. The quiet between them stretched on, thick and heavy with the weight of their conflict. The distant sound of footsteps from above echoed down the alley as Obi-Wan and Ahsoka moved about in their shared apartment, unaware of the dark encounter unfolding just beneath them. Humans were so fragile...
Then, slowly, Echo raised his hand, his fingers curled into a loose fist. The shadows around him seemed to bend, darkening the alley further, thickening with every passing second. The air felt colder, more suffocating.
"You really think you can stop me, donât you?" he asked, his voice lowering to a deadly whisper as he took another step forward. His red eyes burned with an unspoken promise of destruction. "Iâve been tracking him for days. His darkness is my domain. Iâve already claimed him, whether you believe it or not. And if you stand in my way, Iâll destroy you too."
Lumiâs heart raced at his words, but she refused to be intimidated. She was an angel, and her purpose was clear. She would protect him.
"You canât claim what doesnât belong to you," she replied, her voice unwavering. "Anakin is not yours to take."
For a long moment, the demon's gaze remained fixed on her. A strange stillness filled the air between them. The tension was thickâboth of them standing firm, unwilling to give an inch.
Finally, Echo let out a low chuckle.
"You wonât stop me," he said, his tone turning cold again. "Youâll regret standing in my way."
Lumi stood tall, unyielding, her golden eyes fixed on his.
"Weâll see," she said, her voice calm but resolute. "Perhaps it'll be you the one to regret it."
Echoâs gaze was firm, unwavering, as he studied her closely, sensing the intensity in her stance. He was trying to break her, to force her to back off, but the angel didnât flinch. Her emotions were bubbling inside of her, a mixture of anger, frustration, and a growing sense of something deeperâsomething that wasnât going to be shaken.
His lips curled into a cold, almost amused smile as he took a small step closer, his eyes narrowing.
"Mm. Canât remember seeing a furious angel before," he mused, his voice low and teasing. "Are you sure youâre not a fallen one, pretty angel? Wouldnât surprise me to see one of yours failing to do their task again. More work for me, huh?"
Lumiâs eyes flashed with shock, the words cutting deeper than she expected. She was momentarily stunned by the weight of what heâd implied, but it was enough to send her temper flaring. Her teeth clenched, and she snapped back, the words tumbling out with more force than she intended.
"There are different types of protectiveness," she shot back, her voice sharp and full of defiance. "Weâre not all the same like you fucking demon clones. And you wouldnât have more work to do if you didnât attribute ours."
Echoâs expression shifted, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Iâll be back for this one, Angel," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "We'll see each other again."
Without another word, the demon turned, disappearing into the shadows from which heâd emerged, his presence leaving the air thick with his dark energy.
Lumi stood still for a long moment, the silence swallowing the alley as she watched him vanish. Her wings slowly folded in against her back, the light dimming just slightly. She let out a breath, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. The encounter had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
The space between her and Anakinâjust a few floors aboveâfelt impossibly vast now, and the burden of her task weighed heavily on her. But she wasnât going to back down. She would stop the demon from hurting him.
Anakin hadnât slept since that night. The dreams hadnât stopped, only sharpenedâvisions of ash and feathers, of burning eyes and cold hands reaching for him in the dark. Even in waking hours, something stalked just outside his perception. Heâd stopped mentioning it to Obi-Wan or Ahsoka. What could he even say? That something was hunting him? He didnât believe it himself.
But Lumi did.
She stayed close now, never fully revealing herself, but always there. An unseen warmth that hovered at the edge of his consciousnessâa gentle shield whenever his thoughts turned too dark. She walked rooftops in silence, her light dimmed to avoid drawing attention. Her eyes never left him. Not since the alley.
And she knew he was watching too. Echo.
He hadnât made another approach, but she could feel himâlike the chill left by a storm cloud creeping across the sky. The demonâs presence lingered. He was patient. Calculating. Waiting for her guard to drop, for Anakin to break. She couldnât let that happen.
And yet, every night it was a game of shadows. Anakin tossing in his bed. Lumi, posted just beyond his window ledge, wings wrapped tight. And somewhere below, Echoâlurking, watching, biding.
Until the attack came.
It started as a tremor.
Lumi felt it before she saw itâa rippling, unnatural energy pulsing through the city like a distant heartbeat. She turned sharply toward the alley behind the apartment, narrowing her eyes. Something was coming.
A heartbeat later, the monster revealed itselfâtall, sinewy, more smoke than flesh, its form shifting like ink underwater. Its eyes glowed the color of dried blood, and its mouth stretched open in a silent, impossible scream. It was hunting. And it had found him.
Lumi dropped from the rooftop like a blade of light, hitting the pavement hard. Her wings flared, throwing up a barrier just as the creature lunged at Anakinâs window.
The beast collided with her shield, snarling as it twisted in the air. It slashed at the barrier again and again, each impact echoing like a bell toll. Lumi gritted her teeth, golden runes glowing as she fought to hold the line.
âStay back!â she hissed, light lashing out from her fingertips, trying to push the thing away.
But it was relentless. The creature didnât stop. It slammed against her shield âand againâand again. Each hit chipped away at her shield.
Lumi grit her teeth and pushed forward, wings flaring again, this time unleashing a burst of radiant force that sent the Rakâhir tumbling into the alley wall.
Her breathing was ragged now. Her energy was draining fast.
The beast recovered faster than she expected.
It came at her againâits limbs blurring, claws slashing. Lumi blocked the first, dodged the second, but the third caught her across the ribs, tearing fabric and drawing blood.
She cried out but didnât fall. She staggered back, summoned a sharp flash of light to stun the monster, then launched a forceful pulse that cracked the pavement beneath it.
It wasnât enough.
The Rakâhir shrieked and slammed her back against the wall. Her right wing crumpled against the stones. She coughed, gaspedâbut still pushed forward, raising a trembling hand to summon another shield.
Her light flickered. Fear âone she hadn't felt in a lifetime, swallowed her. Was this going to be her end?
Just as the creature reared for a final strikeâ
He appeared.
A spear of shadow sliced through the air, hitting the beast square in the side and slamming it into the floor.
Echo stepped from the shadows like death itself. His red eyes burned.
He was all sharp lines and dark energy, his cloak moving like smoke around him. He didnât look at Lumiâhe didnât need to. His entire focus was on the Rakâhir.
"You shouldnât be here," he growled to the creature, voice low and lethal.
The Rakâhir roared in response, but it was already backing away.
Echo advanced.
The shadows around him twisted and thickened, forming jagged weapons, chains, and dark spikes that slashed through the alley with precision. The Rakâhir fought back, shrieking and thrashing, warping its body to avoid his attacks.
Lumi, still breathing hard, forced herself upright. She didnât trust the demon ânot fullyâ but she wasnât going to let him fight it alone.
With what strength she had left, she lifted her arms and threw out a shimmering arc of protective light toward Echo, catching one of the beastâs stray limbs before it could hit him.
He didnât glance backâbut he felt it. And for a moment, their movements synced.
Lumi sent bursts of golden force between his strikes, shielding his exposed side with radiant barriers when the beast moved too fast. Echo, in turn, drove the monster back with vicious blowsâeach one drawing more smoke, more shrieks, more darkness.
They moved togetherâlight and shadow, clashing and complementing, two forces never meant to coexist, fighting as one.
Lumiâs energy was nearly gone. Her vision blurred at the edges, but she kept going. She unleashed a final blinding flare directly into the creatureâs many eyes. It screamedâstunned for just long enough.
Echo seized the opening.
He leapt high, shadows coiling around his arms like armor, and slammed down with the force of a collapsing void. The creature buckled, then shattered into smoke and ash. It dissipated quickly; the darkness then inmediately reabsorbed.
The alley fell silent.
Lumi exhaled shakily, the effort of maintaining her stance draining the last of her strength. Her legs finally gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, knees hitting first, then hands, then nothing at all.
Her glow dimmed. Blood ran freely from the gash at her side.
Echo turned, breathing heavily, his face pale and drawnâbut still standing. He walked to her and knelt slowly.
She was still consciousâbarely. Her eyes met his, cloudy with pain.
âYou protected meâ he murmured, almost to himself. âYou protected a demon.â
Her eyes fluttered, barely open.
âI canât help someone who canât be saved,â she breathed, just a whisper now. âI guess⊠thereâs good inside you, too.â
And with that, her body went still.
Echo sat there for a long moment, his hand hovering inches above her cheek. Then he reached outâtrembling slightlyâand brushed her skin with the back of his fingers. More curious than confused, more admiration than hate.
Soft. Warm. Still alive.
He clenched his jaw, stood, and lifted her into his arms.
He didnât know what he was doing. Only that he couldnât leave her to die there.
Echoâs grip on Lumi was firm but gentle, carrying her unconscious form through the winding paths of his realm. Shadows clung to the jagged spires and twisting streets like living smoke, eyes glinting from the darkness as if every corner held a watcher. The air was thick, heavy with heat and the faint scent of brimstone. Every step was a reminder that they were far from the world the angel knewâa place where their counterparts belonged.
âYou canât be serious,â hissed a familiar voice behind him. Fives stepped forward, eyes blazing with distrust. âYouâre bringing an angel here? Into our world?â
Echoâs jaw tightened, his eyes sharp and unyielding. âSheâs been wounded by a Rakâhir. This is the only place where I can attempt to draw out the darkness he inflicted in her safely.â
Tension sparked in the air. Fives sighed, still thinking this was not the best course of action and wondering why his brother was risking it all for someone who probably despised him and their kin.
ââŠif Palpatine finds out, weâre all dead.â
Echoâs jaw clenched, his darkness pulsing around him.
âThen heâll never know.â His words were calm, but the weight behind them made the air tremble.
Without another word, he carried Lumi through an imposing archway and into a chamber hidden deep within the twisting labyrinth of his home. The faint glow of molten rock traced intricate, alien patterns across the floor. It was beautiful in a terrifying way.
Echo laid the unconscious angel down carefully on the dark, cushioned bed in the center of the room. Hours passed in silence, save for the faint hum of the demon realm beyond. Lumiâs eyelids fluttered occasionally, but her injuries and exhaustion kept her in a deep, dreamless sleep. Outside, the demons prawled and whispered, but inside this room, a fragile bubble of quiet held her.
When she finally stirred, a gasp tore from her throat. Her eyes opened to darkness softened by the dim glow of the chamber. Shadows danced along the walls, casting strange, shifting shapes that made her heart pound. Slowly, panic crept in as realization settled over her: she was an angelâaloneâin the demon realm.
Every muscle ached, both of her wings trembled. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breaths shallow. She swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed. Her heart pounded in her earsânot just from exhaustion, but from the reality of where she was. Her mind raced, imagining what could be waiting just beyond the room, in the vast, shadowed halls. She tried to steady herself.
Echo was there, kneeling beside her, eyes dark and unreadable but holding a strange, steady calm.
âYouâre safe, Angelâ he said softly, perhaps sensing her fear, his voice low and measured. âBut I need you to stay here. Do not leave this room.â
Her gaze flitted around, and then back to him. Why am I here? Can I trust him? Or has he trapped me? Is he planning something else? Each thought collided with the memory of the pain she had endured outside, and the undeniable reality that he had saved her.
The demon's hands hovered above her, careful not to touch unless necessary. His jaw was tight, emotions pressed down, contained. He had to leave soonâthere was work he could not ignoreâbut he could not leave her unprotected.
âStay inside. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyoneâ he ordered, firm but not unkind. âJust rest until I get backâ.
Lumi nodded, fear and caution warring with the fragile thread of trust she felt toward him. Her body was weak, her wings ached, but she did not move from the bed. She watched as he stepped back, jaw clenched, eyes flicking once toward her before he vanished into the shadows.
Alone, the weight of the demon realm pressed in on her. The walls seemed to breathe, the shadows whispering secrets she could not understand. Fear, doubt, and a strange flicker of gratitude swirled inside her. Did he bring me here just because I helped him? Is he trying to pay me back? Why did he even step in against the monster in the first place? Why not... Let it kill me, then kill Anakin himself? What does he want from me?
Every sense was heightenedâthe faint heat from the walls, the low hum of energy in the air, the darkness around her. And yet, even in that terror, a part of her recognized something⊠protective. Something that told her she might survive this place. But survival, she realized, came at the cost of trustâand she was not sure if she was ready to trust him.
The door shut with a low thud, sealing Echoâs presence out of the room. For a long moment, Lumi sat frozen, staring at the carved patterns on the stone as though they might shift again and reveal some hidden threat.
Silence pressed down on her, thick and heavy. Only the low hum of the walls remained, a deep vibration she felt in her bones. Her golden runes ached faintly on her skin, the faintest flicker of light tracing across themâlike her body was fighting the foreign shadows still coursing inside her.
He told me to stay. To rest.
Her chest tightened. Her instinct screamed at her to move, to run, to find light again. But what good would it do? She was in the heart of the demon realm. Even if she escaped the room, there were corridors filled with shadows, millions of demons breathing the same air. They would notice her immediatelyâher wings, her light, her very soul would betray her.
Her hands trembled as she pulled her knees to her chest, wings wrapping around herself like a cocoon. âWhy here?â she whispered into the dimness. âWhy did he bring me here?â
The question gnawed at her. Every angel had been taught demons were mercilessâexecutioners designed to kill. But Echo⊠Had looked at her differently. Not with hunger, not with scorn, but with something closer to⊠resolve. Determination. Maybe even a flicker of concern.
Her pulse quickened at the thought, and she shook her head sharply. No. Heâs a demon. They canât care. They canâtâŠ
Still, the memory of his voice lingeredâsteady, low, almost grounding. The protective stance and grip on her. That truthâthe posibiliy of demon's being more than the evil tales she had always heard, unsettled her almost more than the shadows themselves.
Minutes crawled by, the voices outside fading. She sagged back onto the bed, trembling, the weight of her fear pressing down like a mountain.
She hated it. The fear. The helplessness. She was an angelâshe was supposed to be a guardian, a shield. Yet here she was, hiding in the dark, depending on a demon. Was Anakin even okay?
Her thoughts tangled, a storm of contradiction. He brought me here to save me. Heâs the reason Iâm breathing. But if he wanted to hurt me, he couldnât have chosen a crueler prison.
Hours crept by in silence. Lumi had no way of telling time here; there was no sun, no familiar rhythm of light and shadow, only the constant hum of the walls and the faint glow of her own runes whenever she lost focus on suppressing them.
She shifted on the bed, wincing at the dull ache in her side where the monsterâs venom lingered. Echo had patched her wound, but she felt weak still. It would probably take a few days of rest to feel okay.
Her gaze wandered around the room, hesitant at first, then with growing curiosity. She had expected the living space of a demon to be cold, barren, perhaps littered with weapons or bones. Instead, the chamber felt⊠personal.
The walls were carved stone, yes, but smoothed with care, lined with shelves. On them rested small things: trinkets of dark metal, strange stones that pulsed with a muted glowâLumi didn't think it served any purpose other than purely decorational, scrolls tied neatly with black cord. There was a blade propped in the corner, its edge etched with runes she didnât recognize, yet it wasnât displayed like a trophyâmore like a tool set aside after use.
Her eyes caught on something stranger still. A strip of parchment pinned above the desk, covered in handwriting. Notes, sketches⊠diagrams of runes. Demon runes. The sight made her breath hitch. Their scripts werenât supposed to resemble hers, yet hereâthough rougher, sharperâshe saw patterns that mirrored angelic wards. Almost like Echo had been⊠studying.
Her fingers itched to trace them, but she forced herself still. Donât. Donât touch. Donât even think it.
She tore her gaze away, focusing on the bed again. Her wings curled tighter around her as the unease in her chest grew. Every angel was taught the same truth: demons had no desire for knowledge, only destruction. Yet Echoâs room whispered of order, of restraint, of someone who did not entirely fit the mold she had been warned about. Of someone who wanted more than what had been first assigned to him.
That contradiction unsettled her more than anything.
Another faint noise drifted through the wallsâa heavy step, a muffled growl, voices speaking in low tones. She swallowed hard, remaining in complete silenceâalmost holding off her breathing, until the soundâthe danger, passed.
Lumi exhaled and layed back down on the bed. The room was suffocating, both prison and sanctuary. And she was caught in betweenâfear gnawing at her, mistrust anchoring her down, yet curiosity and hope creeping in, slow and dangerous like the shadows themselves.
The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the walls. Lumi flinched, her breath catching as she sat upright on the bed. Echo stepped in, shadows trailing after him like smoke, his chest heaving with the rough rhythm of someone who had just been fightingâor killing. His black clothes were streaked with dark stains, and his hands trembled faintly, curling into fists as though he hadnât yet come down from the surge of battle.
For a moment he didnât even look at her, only braced his palms against the table as though the wood was the only thing keeping him upright. Then his eyes snapped to her, sharp and cutting.
âI see you actually stayed,â he said flatly, voice rough, lined with exhaustion.
Lumi swallowed. Her runes itched faintly under her skin, glowing soft gold in response to her unease. âYou told me to,â she answered, steady but quiet, cautious.
Echo gave a humorless snort, shaking his head. âI wasn't sure if you'd listen. After all, angels have been ignoring demons for lifetimes.â
The words stung, and a part of her wanted to bite the bait and protest, but she forced herself to push past them. She studied him, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders twitched like he was still braced for a fight.
âWhat kind of work leaves you like this?â she asked carefully, nodding toward the stains on his long-sleeved shirt, the restless edge to his movements. âYou escaped mostly untouched from the Rak'hir, and that's a powerfull dark spirit. What can possibly...?â
His gaze flicked to her, dangerous now, like she had stepped over a line. âRak'hirs, powerfull spirits?â he laughed, dry and humourless, his facial expresions hardening instantly. âThey're a playground compared to some of the monsters that roam human realm. The evil and darkness we can't kill in time can group and transform into really terrifying things. Anakin's will for sure, it's already begging to be released from that tiny fragile human body.â
The angel ignored the pun, still reluctant to believe what the demon claimed. She had seen light in the young man herself and she just knew he could be saved.
Echo turned away as if to put distance between them.
Luminous pressed on, her voice firmer this time. She was tired of wondering. She wanted answers. âWhy did you help me, then? It doesn't make sense. You couldâve left me to die. You'd have free way for Anakin then. Isnât that what a demonâs supposed to do?â
For a long moment, silence thickened in the small room. Echoâs back was to her, broad and unmoving, but she could see his hands clenching tighter, shadows curling around his wrists like they were drawn to his anger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, almost bitter:
âDonât mistake this for kindness.â He turned just enough that his dark red eyes found hers, gleaming faintly in the gloom. âI didnât save you for your sake. I did it becauseâŠâ His jaw tightened, the words strangled before they could leave. ââŠBecause letting that poison win wouldâve been worse.â
The edge in his voice was sharp enough to cut, and Lumi felt a tremor run down her spine. Standing there now, shadows whispering at his heels and anger radiating from every movement, Echo looked every bit the demon her kind had warned her about.
When he stepped forward toward her, she had to fight the impulse to back up on the bed. The demon's expresion looked murderous; barely controlled enough to hide his hunger to kill. Lumi was suddenly reminded of how vulnerable she was here; not recovered enough to use her runes at her full potential and surrounded by demons who would have no remorse to kill her.
âYou don't even know how a Rak'hir's venom works, do you?â he lowered himself down so he was sitting in the edge of the bed, so close Lumi could feel the expanding cold of the shadows playing around him. âThe venom it inflicts is the real reason why one should be carefull with that monster. It's not the fact that it can kill you; it's that it will turn anything it infects with part of his soul, evil and darkness that will consume everything until the possibly kind creature you once were is no longer there.â
He was so close to her face now, his features so alive with that burning anger, that Lumi couldn't try to look anywhere else. She was almost mesmerised by his danger.
Echo showed her a tiny, cruel smirk.
âThere's a little lie your dear Great Angels have been telling you since your soul was sharpened into form, Luminous. Because at the beginning of the three realms, demons weren't born simultaneously to angels, oh no. Palpatine, the Demon King, was once an angel too, just like Yoda or any of the other Great ones; and it was a hoard of Rak'hir who changed him, poisoned him with centuries of evilness and darkness until no light remained. Until the first Demon was shaped into humanoid form.â
At the shocked expresion of the pretty angel's face, Echo chuckled, finally backing away and standing at the feet of the bed, letting her breathe in the new space. Adrenaline still pounded through his veins, and he made an effort to keep his emotions at bay.
âYou can take a read about the actual truth of our origins if you like, Angelâ he pointed to one of the shelves pressed against the stone wall and fake smiled âTop shelve, it's the third one to the left.â
The demon dissapeared into the bathroom.
Lumi read, and her world tilted on it's edge again.
Luminous sat cross-legged on Echoâs floor, the book open in her lap, its pages smelling faintly of dust and old ink. She traced the letters with her finger, though her mind wasnât really on the wordsâit was on what they revealed.
The origins of demons. According to the book, the first demon had once been an angel, radiant and whole, until a horde of rakâhirs twisted it into something dark, something vengeful, feeding on his light for decades until it extinguished. Everything about itâthe anger, the cruelty, the relentless hungerâwas the product of that torment. Palpatine had then used a human woman to propagate that same corruption, creating the first generations of demon clones.
Lumiâs chest tightened. She had read it all, absorbed the details, but her mind kept circling back to the same questions. Why had the Great Angels hidden this truth from them? Was it to keep them from fearing monsters, to make them fight without hesitation, without the fear of ending like demons? Or was it⊠worse? To keep them from feeling? From seeing demons as beings capable of inflicting more than pain or death, from having compassion, from understanding them?
She left the book on it's shelve again and layed down on the demon's bed, gaze fixed on the stone ceiling above her. When Echo came out of the shower, he was quiet too; the anger he had felt before seemingly having dissipated with the blood and sweat.
Lumiâs fingers tightened around the edge of the bed. She wanted to speak, to test the waters, but every word felt heavy, laden with more than just apology. She was still confused, too; too many thoughts and changes to process.
Finally, when Echo settled beside her on the bed, both of them silent, Lumi let her voice slip out, tentative, almost fragile.
âEcho⊠Iâm sorry.â
Echo turned slightly to look at her. His expression was unreadable for a long moment, just the faintest crease between his brows.
âYou donât have to apologize,â he said quietly, his voice low but steady. âFor what happened. Or for⊠anything you canât control. I might have over reacted with the adrenaline I still carried from the outside.â
Lumiâs chest tightened further, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to tell him everythingâthe doubts, the fear, the sorrow for the first demon, about how maybe, just maybe, they could create the first angel/demon allianceâbut she didnât know if she could put it into words. Not yet.
âI justâŠâ she started, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers twisted in the edge of the blanket. ââŠI donât know how to feel about all of it. About them. About what the angels hid, if that book holds the truth. About⊠You. And everything.â
Echo shifted slightly closer, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. Enough to let her know he was there, not judging, not pressing, just⊠present.
âYou'll figure it out,â he murmured. âOne step at a time.â
Lumiâs lips twitched, a faint, tentative smile breaking through. She let herself lean just a little, her shoulder brushing his. The heaviness in her chest didnât vanish, but it felt⊠lighter. Shared.
The Safe Temple seemed like a distant memory now. Days had passed since the Rakâhirâs venom had torn through Lumiâs veins, leaving her trembling and hollow, her light flickering like a candle in the wind. She was improvingâher glow had steadied, the pain had ebbedâbut Echo had warned her time and again: the darkness still nested inside her, buried deep where her runes could not reach. To remove it too soon would be reckless, he said. If done wrong, the extraction could shatter her soul, corrupt her light, or worseâleave her somewhere in between, neither angel nor demon, lost in an endless void.
And so she waited, healing slowly under the unspoken truce of his protection. She did not belong here, in the Demon Realm, but Echo had hidden her well. For now.
That night, she heard him before she saw him.
The door burst open with a slam, shaking the roomâs frame. Echo strode inside, his steps heavy, his presence darker than usual. His eyes burned with that unsettling shade of red, wild with leftover adrenaline, and his skin was streaked with bloodâsome his own, some not. An unstelling painting of red and black.
Lumi froze, not knowing what to do about it.
Echo didnât look at her. Didnât say a word. He went straight for the bathroom. Another slam, sharper than the first. She heard the rush of the tap, water running then cut short, the harsh thud of fabric angrily hitting the floor, the creak of pipes as the shower roared to life.
Then silence.
Noâ not silence. The muted thump of his head hitting the tile. Then two smaller ones, perhaps his clenched fists resting against the shower walls too. Water pounding down, drowning everything except the steady ache in her chest. It was just in her being the need to comfort and help; and she had never done a good job at ignoring the chance to do so.
Lumi sat there, hands tangled in her lap, the book she had been reading now abandoned in the bed, her wings pressed tightly to her back. She wanted to ask, wanted to whisper through the door if he was alrightâbut fear and caution kept her quiet. If she interrupted him, reminded him that she was technically an enemy... Would he snap back?
Minutes passed, only the hiss of water and the echo of her own heartbeat filling the air. She was on her way to standing up, bare feet brushing the cold stone floor, when the shower cut off. Her breath caught.
The door opened, steam curling out into the room like smoke. Echo stepped into the dim light, bare-chested, only a pair of dark pants clinging to his frame. Droplets of water still ran down his skin, tracing lines between scarsâscars upon scars, old ones faded into silver and pink, newer ones raw and red, layered over his chest, his arms, his sides. Battle written into his body like scripture.
Lumi gasped before she could stop herself. Not loud, but enough for the demon to hear her. A sound of shock, of pain that wasnât hers but might as well have been. He looked... Broken, and yet, so very much alive.
Echoâs gaze flicked to her. Just for a heartbeat; as if he had suddenly remembered he had brought an angel to his own very room in Demon Realm. He scanned her, quick, sharp, making sure she was unharmedâthen turned away as if it meant nothing. He crossed the room, shoulders heavy, movements rigid, and collapsed onto the bed beside her.
âNight" he muttered flatly, already rolling to face the wall and not the concerned, anxious expresion on her face. With a flick of his hand, the light went out, plunging the room into quiet shadow.
But Lumi still glowed. Not brightlyâjust a soft, fragile shimmer, her runes humming faintly against her skin. She lay still, watching the broad expanse of his back.
That was when she saw them for the first time.
Runes. But not like hersâhers flowed in elegant curves, gold threaded with light, each mark crafted with nurturing purpose. His were jagged, sharp, carved deep into his flesh as though angrily torn rather than carefully drawn. Dark purple, crisscrossing one another, their sharpness biting into his skin even in stillness. Not quite similar to the ones she had seen on the parchment on his desk before; those looked somewhere in between.
She stared, her breath shallow, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. Questions. Wonder. A quiet ache she didnât want to name.
He carried scars she couldnât even begin to count. He was a demon. And yet, sleeping there in the same bedâhe just felt like a man. A tired, and troubled man.
He had fought monsters she couldn't even begin to name and still he slept with his back turned, as if imaginary walls between them were safer than facing the worry in her face.
She wanted to ask him. Wanted to whisper his name into the silence, to bridge the endless distance of the few inches between their bodies.
But when she parted her lips, no sound came out.
Because what would she even say? Iâm sorry for your scars? Do you want to talk? I donât know why I donât hate you? None of it seemed right. None of it felt safe.
So she stayed quiet. His name lingered on her tongue, heavy as a prayer she couldnât admit she wanted to make.
The exhausted demon soon fell to the tempting, numbing comfort of sleep; but Lumi layed there, glowing faintly in the dark, unable to tear her eyes of the demon's back. A map of purple runes and scars.
The days pass in a strange rhythm. Small conversations here and there, brief moments when silence feels almost companionable. Lumi is healingâslowly, her light returning, though Echo insists it isnât time yet.
âYou wonât stay here forever, you know that, right?â he says one evening, voice quiet, steady, while she fusses with the thin blanket over her lap.
Her anxious glance softens.
âYouâll just need a week more or two, probablyâ Echo continues, eyes sliding away, âand youâll be safe to go.â
A warm, genuine smile spreads across her lips. âThank you, Echo.â
He only gives a short nod, already turning away to implant his imaginary wall. âGood night, angel.â
Another night comes. Luminous waits, watching the door, hours dragging with no sign of the demon returning. Trapped inside this room, Echo is her anchor to sanity. The only thing to entertain herself with beside his collection of books -which Lumi had already gone through half of the shelves-. Her anxiety grows heavier with each minute. A difficult mission? A fight? Has someone discovered her? What ifâ
The door finally creaks open.
Echo stumbles in, dark eyes dimmer than usual. His chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. He looks seconds away from unconsciousness; the worst shape the angel had ever seen him in.
âEchoâ! What-what happened?â Lumi rushes forward, reaching him just before he collapses against the wall.
He groans, stumbling forward with her pannicked aid and fumbling for the small med kit in the bathroom. âCrassar⊠spines⊠Needâneed you to pull them out.â
Echo winces when he takes his soaked shirt off. Lumi's eyes widen, horrified at the sight of jagged dark spines lodged deep into his side and shoulder. Realisation hits her and she whispers in doubt ââŠThatâll rip part of your skin off.â
His hands shake as he forces the kit open, jaw clenched. âI-I know. Donât care. If they stay, theyâll rot the tissueâinfect it, then sink into my blood vessels. The longer we wait, the worse itâll get. I need you to take them out.â
Lumi hesitates. This will hurt like hell. It'll be... bloody. Almost like torture. But he needs it. It's... a different brand of help than the one she is used to offer, but help nonetheless. And she has always had a backbone for tough things.
Her voice steadies, firm with quiet resolve. âOkay. Turn around and sit down. Put a towel in your mouth.â
Echo obeys with a grunt, lowering himself to the floor in front of her. He shoves a folded towel between his teeth, body tense and ready for pain.
Lumi readies the tweezers, her own hands shaking as she steadies the jar for the spines. Her breath hitches. And then, in contradiction- âBreathe.â
He inhales, and the angel grips the first spine. She takes a second to center herself. Then, with a sharp pull, it tears free -at the cost of some of Echo's mostly superficial skin.
A muffled cry is released against the towel, Echoâs entire frame shaking involuntarily with the pain. His fists clench, knuckles white. Eyelids shut holding back tears.
Lumi blinks back her own, swallowing hard. She doesnât stop. She can't, even if she wants to. She swallows down, and one by one, she extracts the spines, the sound of tearing flesh filling the small room. Each whimper that escapes him cuts through her chest, but she pushes on.
âIâm sorryâ she whispers, again and again, words like a prayer as her eyes brim. âIâm sorry, Echo⊠just a little more.â
Finally, the last spine clatters into the jar. Echo is shaking, drenched in sweat and trails of blood, breath ragged.
Lumi sets the tools aside quickly, scooping balm from the medkit into her hands. She spreads it carefully over the wounds, then closes her eyes, voice trembling as she murmurs healing runes under her breath. The faint glow of her light seeps into his skin, calming the burn, slowing the bleeding. Numbing the pain.
His body sags with exhaustion and desperately needed relief, half-conscious.
âLetâs help you to bed now, Echo,â she says softly, guiding him with steady arms outside of the bathroom.
He stumbles but lets her lead him. His lips twitch into something like a broken smile. âMâfilthy. Going to stain everything.â
A breathless laugh escapes her, wet with relief. âWeâll survive. You need rest more than you need to look immaculately menacing, you know.â
She settles him onto the bed. As she tucks the blanket around him, he turns his head, eyes half-lidded but sharp enough to catch the shine of a tear sliding down her cheek.
ââŠWhy are you crying, little angel?â
Her lips tremble into a smile. She kneels beside him, brushing his damp forehead, her touch feather-light with care. âI might be growing fond of you, Echo... Youâre not all bad. You scare me sometimesâall that hate and coldness inside you. But⊠thereâs also a quiet kindness. A warmth you seem to be oh so persistent to hide.â
The demon's eyes flicker, unreadable. They don't look as terrifying as she once thought they did. ââŠYouâve stayed too long down here. Itâs evidently affecting your judgment.â
Her smile softens further, her thumb tracing gently across his temple. âMm. Better not tell anyone, then. Sleep, Echo.â
He exhales slowly, the fight finally draining from his body, and lets himself fall into unconsciousness.
Lumi stays at his side, her hand still resting in his hair. Her thoughts swirlâdangerous, forbidden, but undeniable. Something is changing. In him. In her. The line between them blurring, impossible to ignore. If she's getting lost, she's not sure she wants to be found.
Echo came and went, sometimes returning whole, sometimes wounded, always carrying with him the heavy air of battles Lumi could only imagine. Yet in between, in the quiet of his room, something fragile began to form.
Amicable respect. Tentative conversation.
Lumi noticed first. The way his skin seemed less ashen than when sheâd first woken in his world, the cold cast to him softening as though warmth was returning where once there had been only frost. Sometimes, when he didnât think she was watching, the tension in his shoulders eased, as if the presence of another being âeven an angel, a supposed enemyâ dulled some unseen weight.
It began with small questions.
Her: âDo you⊠have dreams?â
Him, after a pause: âNot of things remotely realistic.â
Then his, equally hesitant: âWhatâs your realm like?â
Her smile, faint but true: âEndless. Bright. Warm.â
They shared fragments â shards of memory, of places neither could visit in their own on the otherâs realm without tearing the world in half. And though their words were careful, veiled, each answer laid a stone on a bridge neither had intended to build.
Yet beneath Echoâs quiet voice, beneath this growing, temptative friendship, his thoughts churned.
He should not enjoy this. Not her laughter, soft though it was. Not her gaze, gentle even when wary. Angels were hypocrites draped in light. They had abandoned demons to claw through centuries of blood and evilness alone. Where angels refused to strike, demons bore the burden â slaying men too cruel to let live, monsters and spirits too vile to deserve mercy. They did the work angels deemed themselves too holy to touch.
And for that, demons were called evil. Condemned. Forsaken.
Echo knew this truth as surely as he knew the scars carved into his flesh. Hatred had guided him, sharpened him, kept him standing when all else threatened to break.
But nowâŠ
Lumiâs presence unraveled him in ways he hadnât thought possible.
When she asked about his battles, he wanted to tell her. When she looked at him without fear â or worse, with pity â he wanted to shake her, to remind her that he was born of darkness, that her kind had no right to see anything else. That each of them had their own side of the balance to keep. And yet, when her hand brushed his once by accident, when her light seemed to warm the air itself, something in him tightened, something old and restless and dangerous. Something he barely remembered feeling from when he was a child and had first felt at the sight of his twin, Fives.
She should be his enemy.
Instead, she was becoming a tether.
At night, when she dozed beside him, he found himself often shifting from his usual resting position on his side to stare at her, replaying her words in his head. âYouâre not all bad⊠thereâs also a quiet kindness, and warmth.â
Kindness. Warmth. Words meant for another âfor angelsâ, not for him. And yet they burrowed deep, defying the very hatred that had defined his existence.
He hated her for it.
And at the same time, he wasnât sure what heâd do without it. Those words... Were the hope for Echo's very unrealistic dreams. For the mix of purple and golden runes that were scribbled on the parchments on his desks; the ones he had secretly being working on for decades. His hope.
The days bled into nights, and nights into more of that strange rhythm they had fallen into. Lumi felt herself healing â her ribs no longer screamed every time she moved, her glow had grown steadier, but there was something off. Subtle at first. Her laugh sometimes rang a little sharper than intended, her patience was thinner, and she caught herself feeling surges of irritation that werenât⊠her. Her warmth flickered, like a candle threatened by a constant draft.
She didnât say it aloud, but Echo knew. He had been watching closely â too closely. He saw the way her light faltered in odd pulses, the faint tremors beneath her skin. He knew that poison. He knew it like his own blood.
One evening, after another long day where he had returned battered and she had patched him up in silence, he didnât lay down right away. He stood at the edge of the room, eyes unreadable, jaw set hard as if bracing himself for a storm.
âItâs time,â he finally said. His voice was low, rough, almost reluctant.
Lumi curled up in the blankets, blinked at him. âTime for what?â
His eyes, dark and endless, flicked toward her ribcage, to the hidden wound beneath. âFor me to take it out. The darkness. If we wait longer, itâll root too deep. Itâll change you.â
Her breath caught. She had felt it. That shadow that didnât belong to her. Her hand instinctively touched her ribs, as if she could stop the poison from invading her with that. âWhat happens if you donât?â she whispered, though part of her didnât want the answer.
âYouâll turn,â Echo said bluntly, voice like stone. But something flickered in his gaze â something fragile and dangerous. âYou wonât be you anymore. Youâll⊠belong here. With us. With me.â
The words tasted wrong on his tongue. Temptation laced every syllable. The thought of her falling â of her light burning out and becoming dark like his â had haunted him these nights. A part of him wanted it. Wanted her bound to his realm forever, no angel watching, no heaven to claim her. Just him. Just them.
But that wouldnât be Lumi. Not the Lumi who smiled despite fear, not the Lumi who touched his scars like they werenât something vile. Not the Lumi with endless compasion and empathy. If she turned, sheâd be gone. Her smiles wouldn't be warm, but cold. Her delicate expresions would churn with the burning rage of hate an anger.
He clenched his jaw, fighting the quiet ache that settled in his chest. He couldn't let the voice inside of him that screamed and begged to let the poison take it's route win.
When he crossed the room, his steps were heavy, his aura bristling with restrained power. Lumiâs heart raced, unsure if it was fear or something else. Unbeknowns to him, a similar trace of thoughts swarm inside of her own mind.
He knelt beside her, and rested a hand over the scar that marked her ribs.
âThis will hurt,â he warned.
She nodded faintly, searching his face. âI trust youâ.
That cracked something inside him.
His fingers pressed into her skin, his power seeping through. She gasped â not eaxctly in pain, but in shock at the pull. It was like icy chains ripping out roots that had latched into her very soul. The venom twisted, screamed, resisted. Lumiâs back arched, breath trembling as shadows coiled out of her, threads of darkness drawn to Echoâs hand.
He absorbed them all. Every drop. Every thorn of venom that had tried to corrupt her, he dragged into himself. And the moment it touched him, he felt it â the sweetest intoxication. A rush of power and something more dangerous, like tasting stolen light mingled with the familiar poison of his kind. It was bliss. It was ruin. It was hers. And it burned.
He gritted his teeth, forcing the pain down. He shoved what the Rak'hir had inflicted her with deep, locking it away inside the endless cavern of his own darkness.
Lumi slumped back against the pillows, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. The wound at her ribs stopped throbbing â it felt clean again. A weight she hadn't even noticed at first suddenly lifted from her spirit. She was safe.
Echo pulled his hands back, trembling, a faint purple haze flickering across his runes as he whispered hoarsely, âItâs done.â
When she looked at him, she didnât see just a demon. She saw someone who had just given up the very thing his kind thrived on, just so she could stay herself.
Lumiâs heart ached, swelled, overflowed. She reached for him, her hand delicate against the rough line of his strong jaw.
âThank youâ she answered in a heartfelt whisper.
Lumi knew how hard that must have been to him. Not just the physical aspect of that extraction; but the will to do so. To not let the dangerous thoughts win. To let her keep being herself; even if it would make things more difficult to him.
For a long moment, Echo only stared, caught between resignment and a raw ache that felt like a wound. He had only felt that towards Fives before; love.
âLet's get some sleep inâ he murmured quietly, the moment vulnerable. âI think we both need it.â
Echo didn't show Lumi his back that night. They slept face to face; staring silently at each other until sleep came.
The night was heavy, almost liquid in its stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of movement outside. Shadows coiled and shifted in the room, thin tendrils of darkness twisting like smoke in the angel's soft light. Echo trembled in his sleep, fingers clenching the sheets, lips parting in quiet whimpers. A shiver ran down his spine, subtle but unmistakable.
Lumiâs eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded, skin prickling with fear, yet instinct drove her forward. She leapt over him, hands outstretched, and felt the first touch of the darknessâa cold, biting sensationâscrape against her fingertips. Reflexively, she radiated warmth, fingers brushing over his shoulders, a shield that pushed against the black tide.
âEcho! Echo!â Her voice cracked like glass, a sharp contrast to the hissing shadows. Breath quick, lungs tight, she pressed her body over his, knees brushing against the mattress. The darkness recoiled, curling around her like a living thing, pushing and snapping, growing angryâbut she held her ground, palms pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding erratically beneath her touch.
He stirred, gasping awake, chest rising sharply. His eyes opened, a swirl of red and brown flecked with gold, and met hers. His lips quivered as he exhaled, warm air brushing her cheek. He understood the situation inmedietly.
âAngelâŠâ his voice was softer than she had ever heard it. âAngel, stop. Itâs okay.â
âOkay? It's trying to get to you!â she replied in panic. She doubled her efforts and pushed back forcibly at the black shadows trying to surpass her shield. âI wonât let it!â
He lifted a hand, fingertips brushing her wrist, gentle and grounding. Tilting her chin down, he met her gaze with a patience that made her chest ache. ââŠItâs my darkness,â he explained in a whisper, low and almost sorrowful, the vibration of his voice resonating against her skin. âThe evil Iâve conquered through all my life. Each victory... The weight grows heavier. Sometimes at night⊠it leaks out. To let this physical body rest. To breathe. During the day, I trap it back inside.â
Her chest tightened, lungs stuttering in overwhelming understanding. She felt itâthe pressure of years, centuries, compressed around him, and how much he bore alone. She traced her fingers over his jaw, feeling the subtle warmth under her touch, and her thumb grazed a faint tremor at his temple. His skin was warm, his pulse rapid, and the soft sheen of sweat at his collarbone made her ache to soothe him.
âEchoâŠâ she whispered, voice breaking, a few tears running down her cheeks quietly. Her forehead rested against his, and she felt his breath fan across her cheek, slow and deliberate.
He smiled softly, a ghost of light in the shadow of his burden. He almost looked like an angel like this; warm, soft, eyes traced with gold. This is what Echo could have been if he hadn't been forced to play demon, trapping all that darkness inside of him.
âItâs okay. Let go, Lumi. Itâll be fine.â
Her shields dissolved completely, surrendering to the truth of him. She collapsed against him fully, chest pressing to chest, limbs entangling, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat through every inch of her body. Fingers dug into his shoulders, and she wished she could lift even a fraction of the darkness that weighed him down.
The shadows and darkness filtered around her and rushed inside of the demon again, quietening and relaxing inside of his body. His eyes darkened to red again, his skin colder.
âI love you, Echo,â she whispered, voice wet with tears, lips brushing the curve of his jaw.
âYou⊠you what?â
A shaky laugh slipped past her lips, damp with tears. âI love you,â she repeated, firmer now, letting the words sink into the space between them.
His chest tightened painfully. âYou⊠canât. Youâre an angel, and I⊠We canât be.â
âIt's what I feel,â she murmured simply, closing the last fraction of distance before he backed away.
Their lips metâsoft, tentative at first, then deeper, warmer. She felt the tiny heat of his lips against hers, the press of his colder body under hers, his hands tracing the line of her spine, anchoring her in place.
âThere is darkness and light in all of us, Echo. Perhaps⊠this is how we coexist. Perhaps we can love like this.â
He stared, marveling, hand cupping her jaw, thumbs brushing against the curve of her cheekbone. His other hand rested lightly on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body against his. The shadows within him stirred, a living storm, but her presence held them at bay, their chaotic energy rippling against her skin but contained.
âIâve been trying⊠to change things.â he finally confessed. Hope rising inside of him. âLearning from angels, their shields, their power⊠Iâve been creating runes, combining both demon and angel elements. Youâve⊠seen the parchments on my desk. MaybeâŠâ
Her lips curved softly against his, wet and warm, brushing his jaw as her hands traced the gentle strength of his shoulders and back. âIâll help you. Perhaps we misunderstood each other all along. Maybe we can work together instead of fighting. After all⊠our goal is the same: to control the darkness. We'll find a new method.â
He exhaled slowly, muscles relaxing fractionally under her touch. âIt'll be hard. Neither of our sides will be supportive. It wonât be easyâŠâ
She pressed her nose softly against his, the warmth of her breath seeping into his skin. âIâve always liked my life a little complicated. Iâm willing to try, if you are.â
His eyes lingered on hers, heart clenching, pupils dark. Finally, he whispered, âYeah⊠yes. I am.â
They kissed again, slowly, deliberately, every brush of lips, every press of their bodies against each other magnified. His hands slid from her jaw down her back, spine arching under his touch, while hers threaded through his hair, pressing him closer. The shadows inside him shifted, writhingâbut the warmth of her heart, her pulse, her very life pressed into his chest, made it bearable, even soothing.
Darkness rattled inside of the demon's body while he lost himself in the safety and warmth of the angels soul. She was there, steady, luminous, unafraid. Her tiny warmth flooding the cold, and he let himself be held, safe, for the first time in centuries.
Angel's and demon's had once had the same origin, long time ago; perhaps they could melt in one same ending once and for all.
Taraaa! It took me quite long to post this since I had other requests and stuff to write, but here it is finally, the last piece of the 100 celeb! (now we're almost at 200 lol).
I really loved this idea, hope you enjoyed the reading too!
I feel like writing some Captain Rex so... Any Rex requests? (No sex scenes, I wanna reeeaaally write interesting stuff, violence, fantasy, fluff...). Send me a text or ask! :)
Echo is a Demon. His kind is tasked with killing. Lumi is an angel; a protector. What happens when they are both sent to the same person?
đŹ 0  đ 0  â€ïž 0 · 100 celebration â PROMPT 4 = ANGEL&DEMON AU
PAIRING: ECHO/ORIGINAL FEMALE CHARACTER
WARNINGS: WOUNDS, BLOOD, MENTIONS OF
â Prompt 5. Superpowers&Fantasy AU.
Pairing: Fives/original female character.
In a galaxy where superpowers are an everyday thing, Li is what people call a "Blink". She has the ability to teleport anywhere; which is certainly useful when you're a fugitive escaping from the 501st. Fives has dreams.
In a world were appearance is almost as important as reality, your family stands at the very top of the piramid. Like every other seventeen year old girl you're nervous and expectant for your presentation in society; and of the delicate decisions you'll have to make.
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100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 6. HISTORIC PERIOD (REGENCY) AU
REX/FEMALE READER đđ„
WARNINGS: ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE INSPIRED BY THE BRIDGERTONS,
â Prompt 7. Pornstar AU.
Pairing: Hunter/f reader.
Your manager tells you it's time to find a new co-star. You decide to film with Hunter, a gorgeous sexy clone turned pornstar.
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100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 7. SEX WORKER/PORNSTAR AU
HUNTER/FEMALE READER đ„
WARNINGS: PORN INDUSTRY, VIDEO TAPES&FILMING SEX, FLEETING MENTI
â Prompt 8. Pirates AU.
Pairing: Hunter/ f reader.
You made a deal with Captain Hunter to join his crew of pirates and find the legendary Moon Kyber for him. You made a second deal with Commodoro Palpatine to deliver the treasure to him instead. How can you come out of this conflict of interests alive and with the pirate you've fallen in love with?
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100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 8. PIRATES AU
HUNTER/F READER đđđ„
WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS
â Prompt 9. Mermaids AU.
Pairing: Tech/f reader.
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Below the surface, where the world is a myriad of blues and different marine kingdoms coexist, there are two subspecies of mermaids; shallow mers and deep-water mers. You've always been told to be wary of the second ones. A casual encounter starts to make you think otherwise.
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 7. MERMAID AU
TECH/ FEMALE READER đ
WARNINGS: This story alternates between reader's and third person (Tech'ish)
â Prompt 14. Telepathy.
Pairing: Tech/f reader.
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Tech can't figure out why you seem to shy away from him; so he uses his telepathy to find out. Your thoughts about him are definitely a surprise.
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 14. TELEPATHY
TECH / F READER đ(đ„)
WARNINGS: BRIEF MENTIONS OF INSECURITIES, SEXUAL THOUGHTS BUT NO PROPER SEX SC
â Prompt 15. Arranged marriage/fake dating.
Pairing: Crosshair/original female character.
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Trying to wipe off the smile out of your ex-best friends' face, you tell her you're currently engaged; blurting out the first name that comes to your head.
100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 15. ARRANGED MARRIAGE / FAKE DATING
CROSSHAIR/F READER đ
WARNINGS: past friendship breakup, fluff fluff fluff.
N
â Prompt 17. Prince&servant AU.
Pairing: Rex/f reader.
You're the princess of Bahr; the succesor to the Crown. Rex is just a servant; a boy that works at the kitchen first, a captain in the army later. You should have forgotten him through the years; and yet, almost a decade later, you can't help the feeling that you two just belong.
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100 CELEBRATION â PROMPT 17. PRINCE&SERVANT AU
REX/F READER đđ
WARNINGS: servant/slavery themes, social gap, mentions of war, soulbonds, f
â Prompt 22. Forced to share heat/one bed.
Pairing: Wrecker/f reader.
When your ship, the Starlight, suffers the consecuences of the wrath inflicted by the pirates, Wrecker and you have to find the way of surviving together. And once you get back to safety... Was surviving all that that was, or is there something more happening between you?
