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Part 2 of “Forget Me Not” is coming out tomorrow 👹👹👹👹 RAHHHHHH IM SO EXCITED I AM SO PROUD OF IT SO FAR!!!!!!!!

Little sneak peak <33

(Ps it’s out now)

A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence. 

Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?

Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze. 

"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, with so much delicacy, as he touched his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin. 

He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day, for so. Many. Years. 

He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of holding her, of crashing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, letting her feel his undying love for her. For so many kriffing years.

She's alive. 

She's breathing.

She's here.

"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left her lips. And that was what undid it for him. 

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA IM SO EXCITED TO POST THIS!!!!!!!

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 of Forget Me Not Rex has finally settled down on a faraway, isolated planet. Finally, he has found some semblance of peace from the ongoing war against the Empire. Finally, he can take the time to recover from losing you, but how long will that last? Word Count: 3007 Warnings: Swearing, making out, old injuries. A/N: This has been specifically requested, and can be thought of as either the continuation of the previous story or an alternative ending :) It was going to turn into a big fat smut but my brain couldn't handle posting that (I've never written or posted a full smut before!!)

Vast golden fields swayed gently in the warm, evening summer breeze. The golden sun illuminated the landscape, a warm glow settling over the hay and Rex's figure, who was relaxing on his porch, hands behind his head as he observed the sight before him.

How many times had he dreamt of such a sight? Of owning his own little farm, of owning a couple of banthas and chickens and goats? 

Too many times for his younger, prouder self to admit. 

Where his brothers used to loudly fantasise over their ideal futures, he was too busy playing the perfect soldier, sticking to his obligations, rules and limitations.

But now? Now he had that one small bundle of joy, held tightly within his iron-hard grasp. And he wasn't about to go exchanging it for anything else. Not in a million lifetimes.

The loud, content bellowing of a few banthas stripped him of his thoughts, his gaze looking for the one particular creature that always seemed to make the most noise. Far ahead, to his left, was one bantha, rolling its body in the hay, short tail wagging left to right, continuous hums and moos escaping its throat in ground-shaking vibrations.

A soft smile tugged at Rex's lips; that was his oldest, and his first ever Bantha.

He had spent the last four years nurturing and caring for the creature, leading it over stretches of land, until he was finally able to settle down in an abandoned farmhouse, far away from any civilization.

The farmhouse itself wasn't in such bad shape. Sure, it needed repairs here and there, but it wasn't anything a tough solider like Rex couldn't handle. He got to work pretty quick, with his handy tools and a shit ton of determination, he had refurnished and fixed the farmhouse within a year and a half, and now, all that was left was to renew the coat of paint that seemed to chip away any time it rained.

But Rex figured that could wait, after all, no one would be able to tell that the farmhouse was being used as long as it looked old and rusty, right?

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth provided by the rays of the setting sun. He was tired. It was a long day of working on the farm, planting the appropriate crops for the upcoming, much colder, season, as well as milking the banthas to make different cheeses the next day.

He thought over his schedule, already feeling a headache rising in the back of his head. The following week he was supposed to be making his way over to the nearest town, to sell whatever he had managed to produce over the last two weeks. Going to the closest town over was his least favourite activity; he preferred to stay hidden away in his little farmhouse with his Banthas and Tooka.

He preferred to relax on his porch, to watch over his animals as they grazed happily across the long stretch of fields, to feel the warm sunrays kissing his skin, to watch the sun lazily disappear behind the horizon.

He let his tired eyes fall closed, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly fading away, a soft smile shining on his face at the soft hum of the summer breeze and grazing animals, an all too familiar weight lifting from his chest inch by inch. The gentle breeze passed his body, leaving a pleasant, cooling chill to run down his spine.

Darkness and warmth surrounded him like a weighted blanket, though his body felt light. He dreamt of nothing, his mind jumping to and from consciousness, his body twitching at a sudden shift in atmosphere. His ears almost twitched at the soft whir of a ship flying above, goose bumps rising over the expanse of his bare, muscular arms as a much stronger wind grazed past his body.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of panicked tip-tapping of his banthas, their heaved breathing and confused whines reaching his ears. The warm honeyed glare of his eyes was gone, now replaced by a deep black as he looked around, the night sky pitch black.

He must have snoozed off or something, how many hours have passed?

The banthas continued to make noise, but this time the briefest whispers accompanied them. With a strong, heavy inhale, Rex slowly rose from his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to cover for his lack of vision.

Who were they? The Empire? 

Surely not.

Rex had made sure to cover all of his tracks, remaining classed as officially dead in the Empire's files. 

Did someone betray him? 

But who? 

And how? 

Only a very small number of people actually knew-

"Hey lady! Calm it!" A familiar voice said all too loudly, giving an affectionate pat to one of the banthas. The voice, it was so.. so like Rex's.

His eyes widened as the other figures shushed the man, and Rex couldn't help the relieved smile and sigh that escaped his chest. 

He knew those people. After all, they're the ones he rescued Echo with.

However, one by one, various emotions swirled around in his head. Happiness? Of course. He was happy to see his brothers after four gruelling, lonely years. Confusion? Hell yeah! What was so important that they had to break their no contact? Relief too, he could feel the way his heart rate had spiked just at the mere idea of danger, blood rushing into his head, loudly pounding against his eardrums.

Slowly, one foot moved, followed by the other, taking turns leading Rex down the porch, towards his brothers. Towards his family.

At the sight of Rex's moving figure, some men groaned, whereas Wrecker and Omega began running at full-speed towards the male, tackling him to the ground in a long awaited hug.

"Rex! We missed you!" Omega exclaimed, erupting into fits of laughter as Rex's strong arm wrapped around her and Wrecker.

"Alright alright! Now get off of me, I can feel my bones being crushed!" Rex exclaimed, though his hold on the two didn't ease, nor did his smile disappear.  Quickly scrambling off of him, the two couldn't contain their happy, yet seemingly mischievous smiles as Hunter extended a hand out to Rex.

"It's been a while, brother." Hunter nodded, pulling Rex in for a quick hug, patting his back. Hunter's body was stiff, his shoulders tense and breathing strained as he moved away, Rex noticed. That was unusual.

Though a smile remained on his face, Rex couldn't help but feel nervous at the strange tension surrounding the batch. As he looked around, one eyebrow quirked at the sight of Tech and Crosshair shielding Echo from view and.. someone else? Who were they?

"What's going on..?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two.

Echo and the figure stood in the very far back, Echo's arm was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, holding them protectively close to his chest, his grip tight as if the figure would disappear into the darkness of the night if his hold let up even by an inch.

His eyes remained trained on Echo and the mysterious figure, though Rex's head tilted slightly to the right, in Hunter's direction.

"Hunter-" Rex started, but was quickly interrupted by the look on Echo's face. His ears strained, almost missing the soft, trembling whimper. The figure brought a hand up to their face, too late in stifling the sound.

As their hand lifted, Rex noticed that all-too familiar, cuffed sleeve hanging onto their hand. 

Time seemed to slow, his chest straining painfully at the sound. Rex could feel his heart drop, the air sucked from his body like a popped balloon.

His sight was stuck on that sleeve, visions plaguing his mind, replaying like a broken tape.

Memories, memories of her.

That voice.

His legs moved before his mind could even comprehend what was happening. Tech and Crosshair narrowly avoided being collided into, stepping to the side as Rex pushed through. 

His lips twisted into a pained frown, his teeth gritted together like metal bars.

That robe.. That Jedi robe.

How didn't he notice it right away?

The look on Echo's face told him everything he needed to know, his hold easing on her as Rex reached his arms out, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Y/n.." Her name spilled from his lips so easily, so softly, as though he was cursed, spellbound to only repeat her name, only those few simple syllables for the rest of eternity. It lingered on his tongue like the sweetest of syrups, leaving a fiery, burning trail in his throat, scalding at his heart like a molten fist, twisting, turning and tearing.

"Rex," A shiver fell down his spine, his breath hitching in his throat. How long had it been since he last heard it? Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, his gut twisting into a familiar knot, adrenaline spreading like fire through his veins. His heart pumped blood so quickly, so fiercely through his body, it was like a thousand fireworks had gone off in that instant. Many people have said his name, of course, but only her voice had ever evoked such strong emotions in him.

From the way she'd command his attention during meetings, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary, the way she'd whisper it when it was just the two of them, hiding in a faraway corner on one of the ships, or even the way it rolled off the tip of her tongue whilst-

It felt like the world around had been sucked into the background, leaving only the two of them, hearts beating wildly, minds melting over one another, even the cold night failing to gather their attention.

His hands, which had been previously on her shoulders, were now gently cradling her face, thumbs swishing back and forth in soft strokes. 

His whole focus was on her eyes- oh, those starry eyes.

How many times had he dreamed of them?

How many times had he cried at night, calling out for her in broken whispers and sobs?

Rex knew it was a few times too many, and yet at the same time, it wasn't enough.

A sob left his lips as he dropped the hood off her head, revealing the person behind the shadowy figure.

Something was different. Off.

Her face, although so familiar, was now so different. Bathed in aged lines, marks, grease and dirt, and worst of all.. A scar.

He hadn't noticed it under the shadow of her hood, but now, it was ever so prominent under the blaring moonlight.

A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence.

Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?

Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze.

"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, like a prayer, with so much delicacy, so much practice, as he brushed his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day. For. So. Many. Years.

He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of pushing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, making love to her. 

For so many kriffing years.

She's alive.

"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left your lips, unknowingly acting as a trigger for his next movements.

His lips crashed against your own, his hands keeping your face steady, making sure you wouldn't slip away like the hundreds, no, thousands of dreams he's had before.

Your lips were as soft as he remembered, your touch featherlight and rough. Your hands were shaking, he noted. You were afraid. Afraid of him? You wouldn't be kissing back if that was the case.

Your scent overwhelmed him, it was that faint smell of peach shampoo that he loved so much, it was making his knees weak. Where did you manage to get that from? From the state of you, he was sure you were dying for a hot, bubbly bath. Maybe it was just his imagination playing up. Kissing you, it was addicting. He was like a starved man, pushing his lips against your own, his tongue slipping past to dance with yours in a sweet Waltz, full of grief and hope and longing and all the years wasted away by your separation, by his fear of your light having been snuffed out, like a flickering flame.

You were his light in the dark, his oasis in a never-ending dessert, his midsummer night's dream. You had that spark in you - the one that attracted individuals to you like moths to light. Your laugh, so easily evoked, and your kind smiles, so easily graced upon anyone and everyone, shining down like sunshine on a dewy, autumn morning. You were a breath of fresh air, but also a crackling, comforting fire on a cold winters night.

But he had lost you just so quickly, on that day. Never knowing, for years, if you'd be back. If you were alive.

Your touch slowly grew from soft, dissipated like cotton-candy and falling snowflakes, to eager, pleading for more as your fingers found solace in his slightly outgrown blonde hair, encasing his head in your embrace, pulling him closer as you kissed feverishly, afraid he will disappear like dandelion seeds on a spring day.

You couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, you couldn't smell anything but his scent, one that had creeped up on you and wrapped around you in an invisible embrace, the smell of freshly cut grass and smoky campfires entrapping you. You couldn't feel anything but him. His hands, always so much bigger than yours, had completely and utterly gotten control over your body, feeling and caressing your hair, gripping your chin and pulling you closer by your waist, his lips hot against your own, his breathing stuttering and yet so laboured as his teeth clashed against your own, his eyes scrunched shut - afraid you would disappear.

Being held in his arms was like a dream come true. You could spend an eternity with him, never losing your love and affection for the soldier standing before you. His warmth planted butterflies in your stomach, and his touch ignited them, making them burn wildly in your gut, scalding and yet patching over the old scars and wounds, gently embracing your heart in a healing bandage.

Only Rex could do such a thing. 

Only Rex could make your heart beat faster, only Rex could have adrenaline pumping through your veins just by a featherlight touch, or a sweet, candy-like, tooth-rotting whisper, or a longing, loving gaze of his golden irises and lush eyelashes.

So lost in each other, for so long, neither the two of you broke contact, until Hunter had to clear his throat awkwardly and speak up to make the two of you slowly, unwillingly, pull apart. 

Rex's forehead rested against yours, crows feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, his lips slightly agape as he tried to calm down the galloping of his heart. 

Slowly, eventually, his eyes opened again, the familiar warm colour of honey swirling around his pupils as he gazed into your eyes, a small, pained, and yet happy smile overtaking his features. His heart melted as that same smile reflected on your face, and tears brimmed in your eyes.

"Are you guys done yet?" Crosshair's voice called from a short distance, disgust and yet somehow a hint of endearment present in it.

"You lot go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," Rex tossed the words over his shoulder with little to no care, rolling his eyes at the loud scoff that came from Crosshair. It was quickly followed by an audible smack, an 'Ouch', and the sound of retreating footsteps.

Your shoulders shook as a breathy laugh escaped you, and as you shut your eyes once more, tears began to escape one by one, sliding down the expanse of your cheek. Rex wasted no time in bringing a hand to gently wipe away at your tears, his own tears tickling at his waterline. 

He missed you so damn much.

And finally, you were here, with him, crying and smiling in his arms.

His throat felt tight, as if someone was strangling him, daring him to say anything. His chest felt heavy, and he was sure if he was stood up any longer, he would simply collapse. 

His thumb caressed the soft, and yet ragged, skin on your cheek, the corners of his lips twisted into a semi-frown, his heart hurting, blood pumping loudly in his ears.

His lips opened and closed, at a loss for words, but his voice found a way to come through.

"You have n-no idea," His voice was just above a mere whisper, afraid if he were to speak any louder, you'd crumble away under his touch, or he'd wake up. 

His thumb moved to trace the outline of your scar, a loving look present in the golden pool of his irises.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.."

Currently writing 3 different fics 😭two are romantic and angsty whereas the other is just an adorable funny one about our beloved 501st boys because I need to give them some happiness :,)

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Reader Pt. 1 Rex tells the story of his first love, his first heartbreak, his one last regret. Word Count: 1,166 Warnings: None (from what I can tell) A/N: This is meant to be a multiple-part story, the second chapter will be out soon!

"Rex? How come you're so good with kids?" Hera's soft voice rung out in the almost empty cockpit of the Ghost. It was an early afternoon when Kanan, Ezra, Zeb and Sabine left, leaving the two captains behind. And Chopper.

They had been sent on another stealth mission, something about retrieving data on the Empires latest star fighters. Now it was the early hours of the evening, and they still weren't back.

"Huh?" He hummed as he turned around, his swivel chair squeaking in protest at the sudden movement. "What do you mean?"

He had an inkling of an idea of what she meant, though he wasn't too happy to pursue this topic. Play stupid, yes, play stupid, Rex thought as he nervously made eye contact. Maybe she'll drop it.

"Oh come on Rex, you know exactly what I mean. You're practically a second father to our youngest ones!" She exclaimed, elbowing him in the ribcage as she leaned over, egging him on.

"Beep boop!" Chopper added, his tiny, robotic arms raising into the air.

Rex left out a soft grunt at the sudden dig, recoiling into the soft cushion of his chair. He rummaged through his thoughts, trying to form the most believable lie in the next five seconds, before the two managed to catch on.

The cogs in his brain turned, working overtime as Rex dragged on the silence, scratching at his beard in thought.

After a few moments, he let out a sigh, his shoulders drooping.

"I-I'm not sure this is appropriate, Hera." His voice was soft and yet firm, he used it often on his brothers back in the day when they wanted to disobey command, he agreed, and yet followed orders like a good soldier.

In response he received a confused 'huh' before a sudden pain erupted in his shin. That goddamn clanker!

A grunt left his lips as Rex attempted to smack the top of Chopper's metallic head, a slight burning pain erupting in his palm as the robot mechanically cackled, enjoying Rex's demise.

Though to Hera and Chopper this was a sweet, lighthearted moment, to Rex it was a sticky situation. He hadn't yet told the others of this part of his past, and he wasn't sure he wanted to dip his fingertips in deeply drowned memories.

"Oh come on, you know we won't judge." Hera continued, wiggling her eyebrows at the older man. "And plus, this is great for team bonding." She wiggled her eyebrows at him, trying her best to look as convincing as possible.

The two got on well, being somewhat close in age even with Rex looking like a grandpa. He still had the refreshing energy and spirit of a young man, but he also had the knowledge and experience of an experienced veteran. How fitting.

Rex would do anything but talk about this. The room felt a little too hot for his liking, his heart beating harshly against his rib cage.

"It's a bit hot in here, isn't it?" He asked, getting up and moving over to the temperature control panel.

Though as his gaze moved from the control panel to his fellow captain, Rex couldn't help but sigh out loud, his head hanging down. "Fine. You got me."

Before she could even proclaim her victory, Hera was quickly hushed by Rex.

"Just know this doesn't have a happy ending." He warned, crossing his arms over his chest. All of a sudden, the cool steel grey of the cabin seemed more inviting to look at than his fellow crew members.

Leaning back against the wall, Rex thought over how to tell her. These.. Memories, these events, he had hidden them away deep within his subconscious, like sacred mementos in a time pod.

Only a few people were allowed to dig them back up, if they hadn't been by his side as he lived through them.

I guess it's their time now too.

A heavy sigh and a shake of his head later, Rex was feeling ready enough. As ready as he could be.

"Long ago-"

"You sound old."

"Be quiet," Rex hissed out, his words whistling out like bullets from a gun.

He could tell Hera meant it as a joke, but this wasn't something he could bring himself to joke about.

"Long ago, when I was just a shiny, I met this.. Girl."

"Ooo."

"It was during one of my first missions," He paused, observing the scratched out pattern on the floor, "She was caught in the crossfire, and I saved her." He felt his chest twist as more words spilled from his lips. Even though so many years had passed, the memories still felt as fresh as the day they were formed.

He couldn't stop now. He wouldn't. 

"As we made our escape, a plasma bolt grazed her hand, and she fainted and then we defeated the bad guys and my brother Kix had gone off to tend her wound, he was a medic clone, y'know." His shoulders shook as he scoffed, remembering how well Kix had handled the situation.

"She was so.. So weird. She insisted on walking herself home, but then proceeded to get lost on our ship. So I had to find her and escort her, like a gentleman," He paused, his gaze locked onto a scratch of the ships floor, "I think that was the first time I ever felt like a human, like a man."

"From there on, we became closer. She was moved t Coruscant and so I was able to see her during every shore leave. We wrote letters to each other, we went out together, we slept together. Waking up to her by my side was like a dream come true. Until it wasn't."

At that, Hera's posture straightened out a little. She wasn't sure where this was going, and she could feel Chopper shielding himself with her leg.

"My duty to the Galactic Republic outweighed my duty.. My loyalty to her. I left her when she needed me most." He paused again, this time his shoulders shaking, tears tiptoeing at the edge of his waterline. "She wasn't my priority. And neither was Tala."

"Rex-"

"I spent so many months, weeks, days yearning for her. She was there when I closed my eyes, reaching out to me, she was as beautiful as a morning sunshine, her eyes held so much love for me. And I abandoned her." He paused, hiding his face in one hand, seemingly pushing the tears back with his thumb and forefinger. "Tala was three when I left, and I hadn't seen them since."

Silence fell over the trio. Rex didn't want to continue, and Hera was at a complete loss for words. Even Chopper, the usually chippy chirpy robot, had nothing to beep out at this.

Simply put, nobody knew that side to Rex.

"R-Rex I- I don't know what to say.."

"It's fine. I've made my peace with it." He waved her off, the tears having evaporated from his eyes in mere seconds.

"Are they.. alive?"

He felt his breath get caught in his throat, encircling and squeezing at his wind pipe like a tight fist.

"I.. I don't know."

Lana del rey is my one true favourite artist to listen to whilst writing 😭 her voice gives me fanfic ideas and now I’m gonna write a short Rex fic based on a song she sang 🤫🫣

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Captain Rex x Reader Every waking moment you had to yourself, you spent on trying to remember. To remember his touch. His voice, his warmth. His face and his eyes. But how could you when after so many years it's become nothing but a blur? And each time you're close, each time your mind drags back pieces of the puzzle together, you're interrupted. Word Count: 1,462 Warnings: Angst A/N: This idea came to me whilst listening to Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty and I couldn't help myself but vomit words onto screen, I hope whoever reads this enjoys this because I loved the idea TT

The city lights from below twinkled and burned brightly like the stars in the dark sky above. A miniscule smile rested atop your lips, a familiar gleam sparkling in your irises.

The cold autumn breeze flew past you, ruffling your unruly hair into an even more so, larger mess. 

A blue, old scarf a size too big hugged and entangled your shoulders, floating up and down with the cold. Your fingers twiddled with the loose threads, feeling the coarse material between the pads of your fingers. It was a gift from him. The man from your dreams. 

You used to love him. You used to miss him. You used to wait for him.

You used to walk with him,

Once upon a dream.

His hands used to be warm, his gaze so smitten. 

That look in his eyes, was so familiar a dream.

His voice used to be so soft, his touch so tender. 

Those visions of him, you knew they were seldom true.

His embrace endearing, his kisses slow and passionate, as though you were the most delicate flower he had ever the pleasure of finding. 

His love was your hope, like that of a sprouting seedling in a vast desert. His scent was your calm, like the sound of rain pattering against glass. His voice a lullaby to your dreams.

And now all you had left of him was the old, scruffy, pale blue scarf. 

And you loved it as much as you loved him and he loved you.

The faint scent of his cheap cologne still lingered. You had done your best to find the brand, but failed. How hard was it to find the same exact cheap cologne? Very, you had come to realise.  

The Empire destroyed everything. It took him away, it destroyed his memory.

"Y/n?" His voice asked, but it wasn't his voice. This one had a husky timbre to it, as though he hadn't felt anything but the familiar burn of a cigar against his lips in a long time. It wasn't the same.

"Hunter?" Your voice came out soft, quiet as though he had interrupted an intimate moment you were having.

He took a long moment to continue, his gaze sturdy and focused on your figure.

"Someone's here to see you." 

His eyes met yours as you shifted around, a brow raised questioningly. His shoulders stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He knew what you were about to say.

"Tell them-"

"It's urgent," He interrupted, putting emphasis to his words, swallowing harshly as he felt his throat tighten, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't," He paused again, this time his gaze dropping to the wet concrete beneath his feet, and suddenly he was all too aware of the loud pattering of the rain against his hair and the concrete, of the rough and short beats of your heart echoing in his ears, "Trust me." His gaze rose back to yours.

With a shake of your head, you pulled the scarf tighter around yourself. This was one of the few bits of time you had to yourself, that you could spend on thinking. Thinking of him. 

Amongst the many missions and bounties, your mind always failed to remember him. The faces of his brothers, the different tones and accents and timbres, they all mixed and matched together until it was all a blur. At first, you were happy to be surrounded by Hunter and the Batch. But now you could barely remember the face of the man from your dreams.

The door creaked shut behind you, the sound of rain muffled by the all-too loud music of the bar below. You hated it. You could never focus with it on.

The heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, like a poisonous fog ready to fill your lungs and taint your blood. Your chest felt stuffy every time you were forced to be in the vicinity of the awful stench. 

Hunter's heavy boots thudded against the concrete floor, his head hung low as he kept a fast. steady pace, refusing to give you enough opportunity to question him, enough chance to prod him where you needed to get your answers.

He wouldn't give in so easily even if you tried.

Not tonight.

Though it seemed you hadn't felt the need to ask. 

Not tonight.

Your mind was in a different plane, a different galaxy. A distant past.

The hallway seemed to narrow down the longer you walked, winding around corners and staircase openings like a never-ending labyrinth. You were slowly becoming sick of it. Why was this building so dauntingly tall? 

The walls seemed to be crumbling down and wailing for repair with each crack that extended down hallways, staircases and rooms. Grimaced faces were painted on the sickly orange walls, freshly patched spots grasping to hold the structure together as the building shook with the volume and vibrations of the music.

Hunter hated it too. But he could bare with this for a moment longer. For you.

His throat dried up as the door came into view, and his ears heard the way the pace of your heart picked up as he spoke, "They're behind that door."

His hands fell to his side, smearing the sticky sweat on his armoured thigh, and his steps slowed down, his own heart matching the pace of yours. You must have known by now, right?

"Who is it?" You asked as you came to an abrupt stop, just inches away from the door. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. The two of you stared into each others eyes, silently communicating through the miniscule, atomic-like movements of your irises.

It wasn't hard to know what you were thinking. Nor what Hunter was.

Who is it? He imagined your voice to be soft, velvety like freshly cleaned cushions, the unsure tenderness of it warming his heart.

Go ahead and find out. You imagined his voice to be gravelly, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, the hum they left behind sending shivers down your spine.

With a soft sigh, you turned away from his towering frame.

Lifting a shaky hand, you turned the knob. 

The door creaked uncomfortably, like the wornout strings of an old violin. 

A gentle, dimmed light flooded the hallway, painting it a sickly shade of yellow. Was this a hotel or a pigsty?

You could almost taste the years worth of dust on the tip of your tongue.

The doorknob felt rough and weak under your touch, the dragged wood pressing against the pads of your fingers. 

With a heavier push, the door managed to pull open, screeching in protest until it came to a final stop. 

Your chest stopped heaving up and down as the air was caught in your throat. 

A sudden lightheadedness hit you, eyelashes blinking rapidly as you tried to get a tighter grasp on the doorknob. For a moment, you scrunched your eyes shut, and fought away the dizziness that clamped around your temple like a pair of metal tongs. 

When your eyes opened again, you felt a pair of arms get a hold your waist. 

Was someone hugging you?

Maybe, you thought and as you slowly looked down, you noticed a pair of armoured arms wrapped around you. Hunter's arms. 

Did you fall?

You couldn't feel your legs. 

As you looked up again, it all dawned on you.

The man from your dreams.

At first, you only saw the faded maroon poncho. It was overly large, and clearly didn't fit. It looked old, tattered as loose threads stuck out at odd angles.

And then you glanced down. White armour clung to his legs, embracing his feet and shins and thighs.

Your gaze wondered up, spotting the helmet seated atop a bed behind him. Blue streaks dancing down the expanse of the white coat of paint. It lingered there, pricking at your heart strings as though wanting them to snap one by one. 

It hurt.

Your chest was burning. 

Your throat tightened, the painful drags of a wail tugging at your voice chords.

The arms around your waist tightened, a familiar head of ashy, chestnut brown hair tickling at your skin.

Where were you again?

Your eyes fluttered, blinking erratically as you fought to look up. Your mind couldn't let you.

You couldn't- 

You couldn't rememeber his face.

A hand flew to your gaping mouth, covering the strangled whimper that erupted from deep within your chest, tearing at your throat as slowly, slowly you allowed your eyes to look up.

It hurt.

Did he always look so familiar? So.. Awfully perfect? So familiarly strange? 

His warm, honey gold irises were locked onto you, wide and unblinking and disbelieving. 

New wrinkles and aged lines dragged at his tanned skin, painting the picture of an abandoned, weary, scarred soldier, an abandoned and forgotten man. 

His hair was still that beautiful blonde, his sun-kissed skin and chapped lips still brought out that awfully familiar, but long forgotten feeling in the pits of your stomach.

It's him. 

It's-

"Rex?"

He has the most adorable smile ever y'all 🥲😭😭

Just my daily ramblings on how much I adore and love Rex.

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader Word Count: 351 Warnings: Angst. A/N: Just a sad Fives mini fic whilst I practice aspects of my writing :(

She couldn't keep doing this.

Each scar, each wound, each struggling breath and each death, she felt her resolve growing weaker.

What if he was truly, really dead? It would be easier to know, she hoped, than to keep living like this. But what if Rex was right? He wasn't mad, not yet, so what if he was right?

She already lost Fives. She had come to terms with his death. Her duty allowed her to push away those feelings of sorrow, to supress those lonely nights. Her throat itched at the memory, the day she lost everything, the day her world fell apart, the day he died. She had come to terms with it.

And now? Knowing Echo, her dearest Echo, could be alive, she felt nothing but strangling, nauseating pain. It felt like she was underwater, losing precious air every moment longer that it took to hear back from Rex.

Fives had always wished he could have done more to save Echo. He prioritised his brothers happinness over anything and everything.

He had come to her, silent tears cascading down his cheek. He allowed her to embrace him, to let her hear him cry, to let her heal his shattered soul. She was the reason Fives hadn't deserted yet.

But how she wished he did now. She would have followed him to the deepest, darkest corners of the galaxy.

Every morning she woke up, her hand feeling his side of the bed. She'd forget he was gone, and wake up confused, and then reality would hit. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

A couple tears shed here and there, before she'd swallow a forming lump, and get on with her day.

She'd heal the injured, aid the recovering, eat, shower, watch some holofilms and go to sleep.

She dreamt of him nearly every night, but it felt more like she was relieving precious memories. Her and Fives cuddled up on her old couch, watching her favourite holofilms together. Her and Fives cooking dinner, his arms caging her against the counter as he'd steal a fleeting kiss, a fleeting promise of a better tomorrow.

And then, she'd wake up. Feel his side of the bed, wake up and hear the faint pitter patter of the shower, and then she'd remember.

Maybe she's going crazy. Maybe Rex never even mentioned the chance of Echo being alive. Maybe she was crazy. 

Time to rewrite the whole plot line of a short fic continuation because it’s refusing to work with me for the THIRD TIME🛐(dear diary Rex x reader x fives)

Just a little snippet of a fanfic I’ll be posting within the next two days🫣 turns out it’s going to be a 3-4 parter as I’m incapable of writing 2 part stories :) (it’s gonna get angsty before it gets smutty)

It’s a Rex x reader x fives because they’re my baby girls <3

It still needs to be edited (for the 50th time) but it will be out soon !!

——

He moved the strand away, gently tucking it behind your ear, as best as it would go anyway.

"You're gorgeous, cyar'ika." His words came out as a whispered prayer, his gaze so tender and loving and devoted as he caressed your cheek with his knuckles.

It was as if your brain short-circuited again; your mouth parted, your eyes widened just the slightest, and your heartbeat was now racing a thousand miles per hour. Your breath was caught in your throat, and your mouth suddenly felt dry. Was this normal? Were you panicking or were you blushing? Were you going crazy? What was happening?

"F- Fives..." You whispered, your grip on his chest tightening. You never expected those words to come from him, or anyone at all. They weren't meant for you. But if so, why did they make you so happy? So ecstatic and why did he make you swoon so hard?

He leaned his face a tad closer, just enough for you to feel his breath fanning over your lips.

You could feel his warmth, it was comparable to the sun itself. It rode in your veins, searing into every nook and cranny of your being, it had your blood bubbling up in excitement the longer he looked at you. You were just a small planet orbiting his sun, being pulled in closer and closer until all you could feel was the heat and the burn of him.

His tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip, ridding it of dryness and discomfort.

But that small action had you going wild, absolutely wild. Feral, even. In that split moment, your gaze flickered to his lips, eagerly watching the muscle before it flickered back, his eyes watching you intently.

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓻𝔂..

Pt2. Captain Rex x F!Reader x Fives What happens when two of the men you admire suddenly begin to show just how interested they are in you, days after your secret diary goes missing? Word Count: 3514 Warnings: Edited but most likely has some grammar mistakes, reader is scared of water. A/N: Ugh this took my poor little brain too long to write but it's here now and I'm very proud <33

The rhythmic buzzing of cicadas paired with the summer heat and sunbathing on the beach was the perfect situation to find yourself in. The negotiations had gone smoothly, and your squad was permitted a spontaneous shore leave.  

Navy blue waves licked lazily at the sand; the water contrastingly cold to the desert-like temperatures of the beach. A cool breeze accompanied the waves, providing a semblance of comfort as it danced with tall, sparse strands of wild grass.

You were seated on a sunbed, just beneath the dark shadow of an umbrella, enjoying the distant echoes of laughter from your squad. It was extremely uncommon for them to enjoy anything but the popular bar, 79s, on their days off. 

You had to bargain with the Jedi council for a solid half an hour before Master Windu had finally given you the nod of approval.

Now, Rex reaped the benefits of shore leave in the form of a nap in the sun. You had made sure to apply a kriff ton of sun cream onto his back and shoulders and neck before he had fallen asleep, a mumbled 'thank you' rolling off the tip of his tongue as his eyes became droopy.

He was severely sleep deprived; always being assigned to Skywalker's side rather than yours. It wasn't that he didn't like Master Skywalker, it's just his missions and plans were always reckless and exhausting, and they ended with a few too many casualties.

Of course, that was always inevitable, and Rex did his best not to linger on the fallen, but it didn't always come to him easily.

But with you, he could rest assured.

With you, he could relax under the warm sun, feel the burning sand, and enjoy the comfort of seaside waves.

His caring nature also ensured that everyone would be provided for whilst he was asleep. Bringing extra sun-cream, a cooler filled to the brim with water bottles and ice lollies, and extra towels as well as beach balls.

Where did he get the credits from?

Well, that was a code that nobody could decipher.

Nevertheless, there you were, relaxing with your beloved Captain. Fives had dragged most of the squad into the waves, insisting that they play volleyball. He had tried to take you too, but your reluctance and uncertainty deterred him. 

He had waved you off with a 'Watch me, General' and a wink before he engaged in a series of games of clumsy water volleyball.

Since they'd undergone ARC Trooper training, it became more uncommon for Echo and Fives to join the 501st on longer campaigns. 

Each time they were reunited, Fives would glance to Echo with a small smile. And now, he was busy wrestling with Hardcase in the shallow parts of the water, laughter escaping the two as Echo hit the ball into the air.

A series of hoorays and pats on the back erupted as the ball hit the water with a splash. 

One score for Echo's team.

You were content with watching from the side lines, if you remained far from the water.

If you still had your diary on you, you'd probably busy yourself writing down the details of this day, so the memory could continue to live on long after the war was over.

But just a few days prior it went missing. You thought you misplaced it and ransacked your entire quarters for it. By the time Rex had knocked on your door, nothing was in its' correct spot. Crumpled bedsheets, swinging closet doors and a chair in the middle of the room as you had searched under your desk.

He wanted to question your panicked state, but as soon as the words 'Mission' and 'Jedi Council' were said, you had put a halt to your search mission.

Rex hadn't tried to ask since.

But now, forced to sit by idly, you were mesmerised by the beauty of none other than Fives himself. He was an ARC Trooper for a reason. His shoulders were broad, his waist slim and his thighs - thick and strong and defined from hours of battle and constant training. His tan skin was wet with salty sweat and even saltier water, and if one were to squint hard enough, they could see droplets running down the side of his neck. 

You often found yourself feeling grateful to Jango Fett for having such fine genes.

As if reading your mind, Fives decided to stretch, and in the process flexed his biceps. How big were they?

Was it just you or did it get twenty degrees hotter?

His head slowly turned, and for a moment, you made eye contact. It was quick, but it was still enough to have your heart racing. A smirk stretched across his lips as he caught sight of your blooming blush.

The moment was cut short as Jesse splashed salty water right in his face. You didn't even get a chance to process the expression on his face, the water having wiped it away, as a surprised yelp escaped Fives.

His hand flew to his face, a guttural groan leaving his lips as he swore. His form was hunched over, his hand wiping at his eye.

Before you knew it, you were up and running towards the water, your sunbed abandoned and dusty in your wake.

"Fives?!"

His attention snapped to you at the sound of your voice.

A gasp left your lips.

His eye. The usually tawny skin surrounding his eye had now gained in darker colour, the area a faint red under the sunlight. Tiny, crimson vessels coated his sclera, reaching with thin, curly tendons towards his iris.

Just what was in that water? Surely it shouldn't be this bad.

Jesse was quick to utter apologies, his mouth cast into a downturned smile.

"Jesse it's fine," Fives insisted, "It's nothing." He continued, rubbing at his eye, the corners of his lips fighting an oncoming scowl. His attention quickly diverted from Jesse, focusing on you just as your feet reached the water.

Your body stuttered, your movements faltering as you glanced down at the waves.

Fives eyed you wearily, noticing the hesitation plastered all over your features.

But then in a flash, the water was already hitting your knees, lazily crashing against your waist as you progressed further. Goosebumps rose all over your body, visible under the blaring sun.

Your stomach twisted into a ball of thread, bile rising in your throat. You squeezed the water bottle and towel in your hands, then proceeded to raise your arms into the air like a cheering fan.

The water was now waist-deep, splashing against your torso and swaying your body back and forth.

Pieces of broken pebbles dug into the balls of your feet, and you had to supress the urge to scream when a floating piece of seaweed tickled at your ankles.

A small wheeze left your lips though, and as you reached Fives and looked up, you noticed the concerned expression on Jesse’s face. Was it for Fives or for you? You couldn’t quite tell.

"Let me see." You requested, placing your busy hands on top of Fives’ shoulders.

"General, I'm fine. It's just a bit of water." Fives winced as he attempted an eyeroll, his hands having wrapped around your wrists.

He failed to notice the brief flash of panic in your eyes or the tension in your jaw as the water splashed onto your chest.

"Just a bit of... Water?" You repeated, swallowing harshly. Tugging your hands from his hold, you looked back up at him. "You look like you’re on some hard spice, Trooper. We’ll get your eye rinsed; we don’t know just how safe the water is."

The men behind him had gone awfully quiet, Fives noted as he silently pleaded with you. His eyes searched yours, his head tilting just the slightest. He wasn't a fan of silence, at least not when it came from his squad mates. And he knew all to well that they were watching like hawks, supressing their laughter.

However, as you stood there looking up at him, he couldn’t help but allow his resolve to crumble just a tiny bit. Who could say no to those sweet puppy eyes? Maybe Echo. Most definitely not Fives.

"Alright, lead the way." He finally let up, heaving a sigh. His eye was stinging a bit too much and it’s not like he minded the extra attention from you.

A snicker left one of the men behind you, and Fives was quick to whip his head around, motioning for them to ‘zip it’.

"General?"

"Fives?" You pursed your lips as you looked up at him, though you didn't last long as your gaze faltered, focusing on your primary target, the sunbed. You wouldn’t be rinsing his eye on the sand; it was too hot, and it felt like walking on lava rocks.

“Is it that bad? Or did you just want me all for yourself?” He asked, nudging your side with his elbow.

Wordlessly, you pushed him onto your sunbed.

“Aggressive, I can work with that.”

“Shut it.” You laughed out, shaking your head.

By that point, Rex had slowly begun waking up, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

A confused hum left his lips as he noticed the state of your clothes. They were wet. Soaking wet, in fact.

"General?" His voice was deeper than normal, more guttural as he was recovering from his nap. "Why are you...Wet?"

“No reason, Captain.” You shrugged your shoulders with a wink.

Rex looked to Fives, giving him a confused look. He sat up in his sunbed, crossing his legs and rubbing his face. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”

“First time? First time for what?”

“Oh? Didn’t you know? Our General- “

“Rex.” The way his name rolled off the tip of your tongue had shivers running down his spine. It carried authority and a warning, but the captain was feeling quite daring. His chest puffed up, his whole demeanour changing. This wasn’t your sweet Captain Rex, this was cheeky Cadet Rex, ready to tell the most embarrassing of stories to his brother.

He looked over to Fives, leaning back on his hands.

“Our General over here is terrified of water.” He mused, recalling a specific memory, “On one of our first missions together, we were sent to a swampy planet. The General had us all fooled at first,” He paused, snickering at the displeased expression on your face, “The second a frog swam by, she was screaming and jumping into my arms. Jesse almost blasted the poor thing to bits!”

“Rex!” You exclaimed, throwing the damp rug at him, “You promised not to tell anyone!”

Rex sputtered as the cloth hit him square in the face, launching it into the air in retaliation. “Fives isn’t just anyone! Am I right or am I right?”

Fives looked between the two of you, his brows raised in shock and his eye looking much better.

“General? I’m not just anyone, I’m your favourite ARC Trooper!” He shook his head, pressing a hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you!”

Before you could deny his words or assure him, Rex was already stood by you.

“See General? You hurt his feelings.”

“N- No I didn’t! Fives you are my favourite, just don’t tell anyone, alright?” You pleaded, attempting your best puppy eyes yet. Your attempts faltered as he shook his head, feigning a hurt look.

“I’m not sure, General. You’ll have to make it up to me somehow,” He paused, exchanging mysterious looks with Rex.

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Oh I don’t know.. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” He retorted, pouting at you. Sometimes you forgot just how childish the man could be. You clutched the empty water bottle in your hand, readying it as your next weapon for Rex.

Turning towards him, a fake scowl twisted your expression.

“Don’t look at me like that, General, it’s a waste of a pretty face.” He quickly said, shielding his face as you raised the water bottle. Before it could leave your hands voluntarily though, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

“H- Huh?” A gasp left your lips as your body was swiftly rotated and slung over Fives’ shoulder like a sack of rations. That man really harboured more strength in those biceps than you knew. “Fives? What are you doing?”

“I’m having you repay me! Starting now!” He exclaimed and began moving. Rex moved to his side, keeping in step with Fives. Your eyes widened as the sunbed slowly moved further and further, becoming a distant promise of safety and comfort as salty waves made contact with Fives’ feet.

“Fives! L- Let me go! Please!” Your voice was reaching new peaks, rising higher and higher as you began kicking your legs. “I- I can’t swim!” You continued, lightly hitting his back.

His steps began to slow. You held your breath, leaning your head as far from the water as possible.

“You can’t swim? Are you serious or are you bullshitting me, General?” He asked, looking towards Rex, who only gave him a shrug of his shoulders.

“I promise! Please, please, please don’t go any further.” You pleaded once more, looking over to Rex too. Your hands were clasped together, as if you were praying to the two men. He exchanged glances with Fives, wordlessly communicating.

Rex looked over to you, pursing his lips.

“What’s holding y’guys up?” Hardcase shouted, coming closer and closer. “And since when did the General go into water that isn’t a part of her refresher?” He asked, coming to a stop with the three of you.

“Hardcase! You know I can’t swim! Help me, please!” You began kicking your feet again, leaning your head to the side. Your hands pushed against Fives’ back, attempting to heave yourself off.

His grip on you only tightened, and a squeak was forced from your chest as his palm squeezed your thigh.

“The General is a worse swimmer than me! At her level she isn’t even a swimmer, she’s a sinker!” He exclaimed, pointing to himself, Fives’ shoulders shook as a small laugh escaped him. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, setting your skin aflame.

“Fine, I’ll let you go, but only ‘cause I trust Hardcase.” His voice was gruff as he lifted your body, slowly placing you in the water. Goosebumps attacked your skin once more, but this time from the chilling cold that encased you. Looking up, Fives wore a grin that challenged that of the cheshire cat. “You should see yourself, General. You look like an angry loth cat.” He said, pinching your cheek with one hand as the other rested on your waist, his hold firm but gentle, his thumb caressing your waist in small, centred circles.

Swatting his hand away, you looked back down to the water. It rested just below your hips but would venture higher up as the waves moved back and forth.

“D’you wanna go further?” Fives asked, his voice much closer now. Looking around, you noticed that Rex and the others had moved further into the water, where it now reached their chests.

Shaking your head, you turned back to Fives. “I can’t swim, plus I don’t have the same height advantage as you,” You paused, pointing to the others, “I’d be under water where they are now.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, crows’ feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes. Your hands rose to his chest, steadying yourself as a rogue wave lifted your feet off the ground.

“C’mon, you can sit on my shoulders? I’m sure the others would be more than happy to have you around.” He asked, giving your waist a faint squeeze.

You took a moment to think over his proposition. Sure, being on his shoulders would mean you get to, mostly, stay out of the water. But what if you fell off? You cringed at the thought of water invading your nose, burning your windpipe and choking you from the inside out.

“I- I don’t know…” You paused.

Slowly, you looked up, your breath hitching in your throat. He was already watching you, admiring the tiny expressions you made as you watched his brothers. There was this smitten look resting across his face, as if you were the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen.

His face was so close, his body slightly brushing against your own. His scent invaded your senses, so much so you could almost taste it on the tip of your tongue.

The sunlight reflected in his eyes, outlining the different shapes and shades as if you were looking into a kaleidoscope. His irises had this gorgeous colour of warm honey, and they sparkled like a pair of amber crystals under the soft sunrays.

His skin glowed under the warmth, the rich olive colour becoming tanner the longer he sat outside of his armour, making Fives look healthier and happier. All of the men, in fact. Though their armour kept them safe and sound, you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of them. They were in their zone.

Fives’ hand moved up to your face, his eyes concentrated on a stray piece of hair. The soft smile kept playing at his lips, never fully going but never fully staying.

There was a tension in his jaw, however, as his fingers toyed with your hair. It was like he was holding something back.

He moved the strand away, gently tucking it behind your ear, as best as it would go anyway.

“You’re gorgeous, cyar’ika.” His words came out as a whispered prayer, his gaze so tender and loving as he caressed your cheek with his knuckles.

It was as if your brain short-circuited again; his words dropped on you like a heavy boulder, so sudden, and yet your heartbeat was now racing a thousand miles per hour. Your breath was caught in your throat, and your mouth suddenly felt dry. Was this normal? Were you panicking or were you blushing? Were you going crazy? What was happening?

“F- Fives…” You whispered, your grip on his chest tightening. You never expected those words to come from him, or anyone at all. They weren’t meant for you. But if so, why did they make you so happy? So ecstatic and why did he make you swoon so hard?

He leaned his face a tad closer, just enough for you to feel his breath fanning over your lips.

You could feel his warmth, it was comparable to the sun itself. It rode in your veins, it had your blood bubbling up in excitement the longer he looked at you. You were just a small planet orbiting his sun, being pulled in closer and closer until all you could feel was the heat and the burn of him.

His tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip, ridding it of dryness and discomfort.

But that small action had you going wild, feral even.

In that split moment, your gaze flickered to his lips. For a man who spent the majority of his life on a battlefield, his lips sure looked plump and made just for kissing.

It was like you were gravitating towards him, like a comet curve-balling around his planet, entangling around his soul and burning brightly at each twist and pull. His hold on you had your legs melting, as if you were nothing but a shard of ice, being thawed away at by his warm touch and sweetly whispered nothings.

His hand tilted your jaw, just enough for your lips to rest an inch from his. Any closer, and you’d be kissing, melting into one another.

Before either of you could do more, say more, the distant voice of Hardcase called out to you.

“Are you two comin’ or what?!” He shouted, cupping his mouth with both hands.

You jolted in your spot, effectively snapping out of whatever spell the man before you had cast on you. Clearly, he had been put under a spell too as his hands retracted and his posture stiffened.

“We’re on our way!” He shouted back, waving Hardcase off. His attention quickly returned to you, but the spell was now gone.

A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed it down with struggle.

Uncertainty and fear tugged at your heartstrings, and Fives knew exactly what that meant.

“G- General-“

“I need to go.” Your voice was meek and shallow as you retracted from his touch, as if he left your skin with painful burns and sears wherever his fingertips touched. “Alone.” You continued, placing a hesitant palm on his chest as Fives attempted to follow you.

This couldn’t be happening.

With your back turned to him and your figure disappearing into the distance, Fives couldn’t help but curse under his breath. His lips slightly agape, he stood in the same spot you left him in just moments ago.

How could he have ruined everything in such a short amount of time?

Got two new Rex fics coming out tomorrow 🤞🤞🤞 after what felt like years of no inspiration and writers block 😭 one is meant to be a long one and the other is just a small snippet of a thought (thot) 🫣🤫

There is a big delay in my publishing of a new Rex fanfic as my brain isn’t letting me publish it without very thorough editing and adding on more to the story plus working evenings is getting in the way 😭 I promise (I hope) it’ll be worth it 😭

I kinda really want to write a regency oneshot for Rex after watching the first half of bridgerton s3 😭😭

(Maybe a 2 parter)

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Captain Rex X F!Reader You aren't special. You don't have any form of magical connection to the force. So why then, are you constantly plagued by vision-like nightmares straight from the pits of Mustafar? Word Count: 4,632 Warnings: Minor swearing, minor cut to thumb, concussion, horror, mention of character death, feelings. A/N: This took so long to write when I have to spend my evenings stressing at work T_T but its here and its out, even tho no one asked for it lol. I'm quite happy with this one, it's a mix of a few different genres (?) and I'm happy with how it came out <33 hopefully whoever reads it will enjoy it just as much <33

Pure, blinding light ignited the hallways in a sterile white glow until you could almost taste the smell of disinfectant on the tip of your tongue. Distant whirring and humming of machinery filled the inside of the building, drowning out the raging storm outside. You had no kriffing clue where you were.

In a flash, the lights blacked out, one by one, until the hallway was swallowed in a momentary darkness. Your eyesight had a hard time adjusting, as the power promptly came back on, and once again you were blindsided.

Although the hallways were barren of any life, your gut churned. Anything and anyone could be lurking about, deep in the shadows where no artificial light could reach. Just like in the deep ocean, creatures lurked. They peered from below, anticipating the right moment where they could strike. Like an innocent, disoriented animal, maybe you were being carefully observed by some predator of a higher strength and intelligence. Maybe they were watching through a camera or watching you from behind the glass.

As thunder roared wildly, a loud creak travelled through the walls, all the lights in the room flickering out with a crackle.

You waited a moment, observing the ceiling expectantly. A small spark crackled from one lamp. But nothing. The power was dead.

Your gaze moved to watch the glass, the waves crashing against it with a vile ferocity, blanketing the facility you found yourself in, in further, deeper darkness. Droplets of water hung onto the glass, racing downwards with the pull of gravity, similarly to bleeding paint on a canvas.

Your body was stuck in a state of distress, and you wondered how you even got to this place. The last thing you remembered was laying in your cozy, warm, queen-sized bed, enjoying the absurdity of some comedy-based holofilm.

The last thing you expected was to find yourself standing in an unknown, bleach-scented, derelict, straight-out-of-a-horror hallway.

As the waves continued to claw at the windows, a shiver ran down your spine. A sudden coldness enveloped you, icy shadows embracing your body.

Anything could be lurking within the darkness, waiting, inching closer, anticipating.

As your vision adjusted to the darkness, you noticed something.

Your reflection moved, but you didn’t.

You blinked furiously, leaning forward and hoping that if you squinted hard enough, your eyesight would adapt to the darkness faster. Your arms wrapped around yourself, providing some warmth amidst the freezing air of the facility.

You could almost feel frost settling in your lungs.

For a split second, you wondered if this is what it felt like. If sheer cold and anxiety embraced one moments before death.

Something moved. Again.

A flash of clarity struck through you. This had to be a really, really shitty dream, you realised.

There was no possible explanation other than this being a nightmare. An overly, awfully vivid nightmare.

But there was a dull ache crackling in your fingertips, and it settled deep within your knuckles and bones as you tightened your grip on your arms, on something.

Something cold. Something hard. Something almost… Metallic.

Your subconscious seemed to clock the nature of the object before your conscious mind could.

You grazed your thumb across the object, feeling for that familiar ridge. You counted six, perfectly equal elevations. Your thumb trailed higher, feeling for the gradual thinning out of the instrument. Until the pain registered in your mind, and a warm sensation enveloped the delicate pad of your thumb in a pooling droplet of blood.

A… Scalpel.

Bile teased at your throat, burning and scratching its’ way up, yearning to see the surface. You quickly averted your gaze, the tool dropping to the floor with a hollow clank.

This felt too real to just be another shitty nightmare.

As you glanced into the window again, you caught a glimpse of a shift in the shadows. It was slight, so subtle you were convinced it was just your imagination playing up again.

Suddenly, you felt movement.

At first, it felt like a shiver on a cool spring morning. Almost as though it was nothing to fret over, something you could insist would pass. But then you felt the unmistakable sting of sharp claws digging into your waist, and the panic settled in. You weren’t alone.

Foreign limbs strangled around your body, suppressing your chortled scream with a hand, pulling you deep into the shadows of the facility. Your vision was slowly blocked, until you could only see a fine line ahead of you.

Your hands clawed at the thin air before you, begging to latch to any foreign surface that could save you from the darkness, and pull you back into the light.

Thunder roared and lightning cracked, igniting the room in a blinding white glow for a split moment, your screams suppressed as your eyes landed on the reflection in the glass.

Your arms fell limply to your sides, the veins in your sclera’s a stressed, bulging red.

A body.

Your eyes fluttered open in a hurry. Your lips were gaping in a silent scream, beads of sweat trickling down the side of your temple. Blood pulsed loudly in your head, almost hurting as you brushed the sweat away.

An involuntary, guttural groan escaped your chest as you crawled backwards in your bed, your hand frantically searching behind you for your bedside light as your gaze never strayed from the space before you.

Whatever that thing was, it was following you. It could be anywhere. It could be hiding in plain sight, and you wouldn’t know it until the lights were on-

The familiar click and the spread of a warm amber glow illuminating your room eased your senses, your fingers lingering on the switch. It took a moment to register what just happened.

You were safe. There was no creature. There was no body.

You took in a deep, shaky breath and hid your face away into the safety of your palms.

It was that dream, again.

Ever since you left med school on Coruscant, your mind has been plagued by these nightmares. Each time they increased in their intensity, in their detail, in their vividness.

Your heart rattled against your ribcage, and your mind raced at thousand miles per hour.

What the fuck…?

This couldn’t be normal, you thought as you slowly settled, your body drenched in cold sweat. Those weren’t just silly images conjured up by your mind.

There was something else at play.

You shook your head as you leaned back against the headboard, looking down at your palms. Shadows hung over them, deepening the scars and creases.

Those nightmares… They meant something.

You weren’t quite sure what they meant, yet, but you were determined.

You’d find out, someday.

But for now, you needed to catch some Z’s, after all, tomorrow was your first assignment.

Blaster fire and pained howls of men coddled your brain like a swarm of wasps.

You couldn’t catch a break. It was constant analysing, bandaging and praying as one soldier after the other were hit with plasma bullets, their agonised screams and cracking of bones and barely contained groans playing in a loop like a broken record.

Heat from explosions blew charred smoke in your face, drenching your skin in more sweat with each passing second. Your hands were painted with ash and dried dirt. No amount of disinfectant was adequate enough to sanitise at a faster rate than the one of injured men coming to you.

You were more of a surgeon than a field medic, but a shortage of medical staff in an already politically unstable Republic was not something you could fight against. You had no choice.

Sure, the GAR could afford to train their own medical personnel, or even better, invest in droids, but the hostility between its soldiers and the mech wasn’t something that could be easily treated.

Either way, you were a surgeon stuck amidst a raging invasion and piling injuries and corpses.

“What’s your name soldier?” You asked as you scanned him over, brows furrowed, lips narrowed into a tight line. At this rate you were simply following a script, offering a false sense of comfort to the injured.

“R- Rex. The name’s Rex.” He coughed out, groaning as you gripped his shoulder. Or well, his pauldron. The metal beneath had been grazed with a bullet, cracking under the initial impact.

“Rex?” You mused, testing it out before removing his armour to quickly assess his shoulder for any injuries. Your fingers quickly found your scissors and got to work in cutting some of the black undershirt he wore. “That’s a pretty name, for a pretty soldier.” You joked, sending him a quick wink and your prettiest smile.

You gave him no chance to reply as you moved the piece of fabric, your eyes quickly analysing the extent of the damage.

The armour did absorb most of the impact, though it didn’t prevent him from coming out completely unscathed. There was visible swelling, his otherwise tan skin becoming discoloured where most of the impact had been taken, and tiny, raging, red vessels were swimming aggressively in the bruises. You had seen similar injuries before. This would be a piece of cake.

Something felt off, though.

Something about his demeanour. You weren’t sure what specifically, just yet, but he was brimming with confidence, with experience.

“This’ll need to be checked over later, but a bacta patch will do just fine.” You slapped a patch over the bruising, before placing his armour back into place. “See me after the battle, soldier.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he thanked you, checking his armour was in place.

“That’s Captain for you, doctor.” He threw over his shoulder as he placed his helmet on, his voice quickly turning robotic under the modulator.

Recognition flashed in your eyes as you scanned him over, spotting the navy blue kama, the markings on his helmet, the pauldron that sat proudly atop his shoulder. He was the Captain Rex. Right hand of your new General, Anakin Skywalker. How could you not have realised the moment he spoke his name?

“Kriff.” You hissed out as another explosion erupted, shielding your face. The captain glanced back at you, and without missing a step he hauled you up.

“Come with me. It’s not safe out here.”

The two of you ran, narrowly dodging bullets as Rex manhandled your body out of the way, expertly aiming for the droids’ weak spots. He had done this a thousand times and would do it a thousand times more.

The doorway was just a couple more metres, the clear glass reflecting the colour of plasma bolts and fires. But as always, your luck seemed to run out at unexpected moments, as a droideka pulled up in front of the two of you. Rex pushed you behind him, shielding you away from the mech. It wasted no time in raising its’ shield, had its guns drawn before you could even blink. But Rex wasn’t the Captain of the 501st for no reason.

The droid was blown up almost in slow-motion. From the rolling of the grenade to its downward look as it pierced through the shield. A yelp left your lips as Rex turned, bringing you into a protective embrace as the two of you were flung backwards.

Air escaped your lungs as if you were a deflated balloon, your body feeling hollow as you struggled to breathe. Unexpectedly, the air returned, and you found yourself gasping.

Intense pain bloomed in the back of your head, spreading through your body like a shockwave. Your eyes felt as though they were about to pop out, a heavy ache resting in your skull.

Something was ringing in your ears. All sounds were muffled as you slowly lifted your head. The Captain’s figure was blurry as he leaned over you, his helmet moving slowly, animatedly, his voice drowned.

Were you underwater?

His gloved hand lifted to your cheek, giving it two light taps.

And then, everything rushed in all at once. The sound of blaster fire, the screams, the metallic stomping of droids, the Captain’s voice.

“Talk to me, doc. We gotta get going if we don’t wanna get blasted.” He said quickly, taking your wincing as a response as he hoisted you up, draping your arm over his shoulder. His touch was warm and firm, it enveloped you like a warm blanket.

Confusion overtook you as Rex placed you down against a wall before he took his helmet off.

Your vision was blurred, spinning. But his voice acted as your guide through the blurriness.

“Doc, how many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, raising his hand up.

Squinting, you looked him over. The explosions outside seemed to quieten down as you looked from his hand up to his eyes. In your hazed state, you were stunned to silence. You never knew clones had such beautiful eyes.

They brought a sense of calm amongst the raging battle around you. You leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fanning over the tip of your nose. Something sparkled in his eyes; and it drew you in like a bee to honey.

His irises were a perfect mirage of the golden dunes of Tattooine, coated in the amber glow of the setting suns.

His voice, coarse like sands of arid deserts, soothed your mind back to the present, back to his question.

“T- Two?” You asked hazily, rubbing your forehead. The confusion was slowly easing, only to be replaced by a stinging sensation. A hiss escaped through your teeth as you touched the spot, retreating your hand to observe your bloodied fingers.

“S- Stitches…”

“What was that?” Rex asked, rummaging through your backpack.

“S- Stitches… I’ll need stitches.” You huffed out, letting him handle you however he pleased. He was gentle as he pressed a cloth against the back of your head, his breath fanning over the tip of your nose.

“Stitches… That’s catchy. And yeah, you’re right.” He said as he retracted the cloth, the softness that accompanied it gone too. You heard a soft thud before Rex’s hands were on you again. He carefully wrapped a gauze around your head, his fingers careful not to cause more discomfort.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bloodied cloth laying limply on the floor. It was stained a crimson red, laying abandoned by your side. Surely the bleeding wasn’t that bad.

He ripped the ends of the gauze, tying them into a knot. It sat tight against your head, and you fought the itchiness in your fingers to rip it off. You weren’t usually one to be injured. Though you had to admit, the added gentle pressure kept you grounded.

“We need to go and get backup. C’mon, this way, Stitches.”

You concluded that the hallways were endless. Rex had been hauling your body for the duration of the journey, narrowly avoiding colliding into another clone. A Commander. After that, time became a blur yet again.

It didn’t help that you were feeling tired, sleepy, nauseous.

The three of you headed down the hallways, searching for any other lingering troopers. The sound of distant conversation caught your attention, your head turning in the direction it came from.

“You hear that, Rex?” Commander Cody asked, his helmet turning to face Rex’s.

“I hear that, Cody. We’ve got backup.” He proudly said, exchanging quick glances with him.

As the three of you rounded the corner, you were able to pick up on their conversation. They were discussing their next course of action, it seemed.

“What are we going to do?”

“We fight.” Rex replied as you came into view, his hands reaching to take his helmet off, your vision swayed though a steady hand quickly supported you. As the rest began talking, Rex propped your body against a wall, and you couldn’t help but glance over the other 501st members.

One of them, Fives, you heard his name earlier, had a goatee and a tattoo. He seemed fiery and so damn sure of himself – not in an arrogant way, no – as he spoke encouraging words to the young cadets. The other one, Echo, seemed shyer and more reserved, and was constantly glancing up at Fives. He looked like any other normal Reg. Freshly shaven, distinct regular haircut, no identifying facial marks like scars or tattoos.

Something twisted at your gut with a molten fist. He was so familiar, and yet you couldn’t understand why. The answer was settled just on the tip of your tongue, scratching at your brain like an unreachable itch.

The pain in your head had shrunk into a dull ache and blurry vision whenever you attempted to walk on your own, so resting and letting the actual soldiers do the rest was not up for discussion on your part.

With a boosted morale, the clone, 99, began talking about an armoury. Rex used that moment to kneel beside you. His gloved hand felt warm on your shoulder, his grip tight and comforting.

“I’ll be back for you in a sec, Stitches. Don’t close your eyes, understood?”

“Yessir.” You muttered in response, attempting a mock salute. He rolled his eyes at you before departing, his steps hurried and glances anxious as he disappeared behind a corner.

The walls were painted a filtered red, doing little to quench your own anxieties. Were you going to get out of here? Would Rex and the others come through? You had very little experience with a gun, nethertheless facing a whole group of bloodthirsty, unfeeling droids. You reached for the strap of your bag, fiddling with the bumpy material. A soft hand on your shoulder shook you from your thoughts.

“You’re a new face around here, what’s your name?” The clone asked, Echo, as he eyed the gauze wrapped tightly around your head. You eyed him up and down, the itch returning as you thought over your response.

After a moment, you let up, rubbing the strap between your fingers.

“I’m the new medic for the 501st.” Your reply was short and curt as you pulled the bag atop your lap, unzipping it.

“New medic? That’s perfect. But, what’s wrong with your head?” He asked as he watched you pull out a bacta patch. It probably wasn’t a good idea to put the substance onto your hair, but you had no other choice. Not if you wanted to avoid having to be stitched up.

Recognition flashed in Echo’s eyes as he watched you unwrap the gauze. His gaze followed it as you let it drop to the ground. It was bloodied, dirty with sweat and gunpowder and hair sticking to it in a weird mixture of odd substances.

“A concussion?” He asked, offering his palm to you. “Let me help.” He said, and you reluctantly dropped the unopened patch into his hand. You were hoping he’d know what he was doing as he gently moved your head away from the wall.

His fingers were delicate, practiced, as he moved some hair away. He remained quiet as he opened the patch and applied it to your injury, but a soft huff bubbled in his chest at your relieved sigh. The cool liquid was amazing, to put it simply. It latched to your scalp, tiny cyan tendrils reaching out for your skin. A quiet curse left your lips, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let yourself lean against the cool metal of his armour.

“Thank you.” You muttered against him, relief blooming in your chest. Your heart swelled as he caressed your hair tenderly.

Rex’s voice cut through the barracks as he, Cody and 99 returned, essentially interrupting your strange, little moment with Echo.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on Echo’s shoulder as you looked the three of them over.

They had stacks of guns in their arms, the cadets cheered as they crowded the three of them. You quirked a brow at Rex, noticing his quizzical expression as he looked you and Echo over. What you failed to notice was the stunned look and deep blush adorning Echo’s face.

“Ready up, boys,” Rex spoke, handing the last gun to Fives, “This might be a tough one.” His sight fell upon you again, his stare stern and yet tender as he remained focused on you, and you only.

“Doctor?”

Your body stuttered at the sound of a voice, your shaky hands almost dropping your datapad. “Captain?” Your voice was laced with confusion as you looked up. There he was, shoulders relaxed, gaze tender as it locked onto some feature of yours. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d like a follow-up on my shoulder, Doctor.” He replied almost instantly. He’d only ever gone to Kix for medical examinations, but unfortunately – not - his usual go-to medic was suspiciously nowhere to be found.

“You can look at me, y’know.” Your voice softened as you set your datapad down. Guilt began to tug at your heart as his gaze met yours. The last time the two of you were in a room together, you had made a grisly confirmation of 99’s death. He had not only protected the others, but he even risked his life to save yours. He hadn’t even known you for more than a couple of minutes at most. He was a soldier, through and through, no matter what cruelties life and Kaminoans had thrown at him.

“Doc?”

Your attention snapped back, your body taking in an involuntary breath. Rex’s eyebrows were furrowed, a small wrinkle formed between them as he eyed you.

“C’mon, let’s see what’s underneath all that armour.” You breathed out, hoping to distract him. You didn’t need the Captain to study you under a microscope.  

Rex nodded, remaining quiet. He began to carefully remove his armour, one by one, his touch careful, practiced. He had done this a thousand times, and he would do it a thousand times more.

You distracted yourself by reaching for a medical cart. His armour would not be going on the floor, nor the bed. As you returned to his side, cart in hand, his stiff figure had you quirking a brow. His hands were hesitant to lift his shirt, itching at the hem.

Rex wasn’t a shy man by any means, he had been friendly with many fine women. So why did his heart stutter at the thought of being undressed around you?

“I’ll need to watch to assess for any impairment.” Your voice startled him. His throat grew dry, his fingers restless. He wasn’t expecting you to be so forward. This is just a normal checkup, Rex, he scolded himself internally.

With a quiet nod, his arms crossed over and tugged at the hem of his shirt. He lifted it, hissing a little as his shoulders shrunk in. It was nothing to worry about, you noted, as that was where the bruising was.

However, you supressed a choked gasp. The sight of his naked chest had your well-practiced professionalism struggling. Tan, sun-kissed skin, taught muscle and broad shoulders, numerous scars littered across the expanse of his chest, stomach and waist. A few freckles here and there.

Something bloomed in his chest, something warm, and a smirk tugged at his lips, his chest almost puffing up with pride as you stood motionless for a few seconds. His hands were resting on his lap, and you wondered for a moment whether the flex of his biceps was forced or natural in this position.

“Doctor?” His voice was raw, guttural as he leaned his head to the side. That was when you finally averted your gaze, settling on looking at his shoulder instead. The bruise was still there, discoloured skin and blood vessels swimming around in patches. It must have hurt like a bitch.

“Let me get a patch for that.” You said quickly, moving to rummage through a drawer on the side of the bed. They contained all sorts of supplies and materials, in case of emergencies. “We’ll check for your range of motion – in case the damage is deeper than just surface level.” You mused as you placed the bacta patch and gauze beside him.

You moved around him, poking at different muscle as you inspected him. So far so good, no abnormalities or bumps.

“Try and raise your arms above your head,” You requested, observing as he does so with little difficulty, “And now stretch them behind your back.” You continued, placing your palms on both of his shoulders, applying gentle pressure.

No swelling, no stiffness, no difficulty in movement.

“Now place your arms by your sides, then slowly lift and extend them until they’re above your head.” You requested, showcasing an example with your own arm. Starting from your hip, you kept it straight before slowly lifting it to the side, from your hip to your head. Rex followed your instructions, and you found yourself quickly dismissing any concerns about the damage to his shoulder.

“Your shoulder seems to be doing just fine, Captain,” You said as you stepped away, typing away on your datapad, “Try not to apply pressure onto the bacta patch, or else it might pop. Come back in two hours and I’ll take it off for you.” Your fingers were careful as you placed the bacta on, softly smoothing it over as you ensured it stuck.

You reached for the gauze, your arm brushing against his.

“Sorry.” You muttered, facing him.

Your breath hitched, realisation striking you like lightning.

His face was just inches away. His breath fanned over your nose, his warmth reaching out to you.

You could count every freckle, every scar, every imperfection across his features. Thousands of tiny stars and speckles flickered across his face, the light above you serving as his little sun, casting shadows to dance over his features.

And just like a shooting star, you disappeared from his orbit in the blink of an eye.

His gaze remained trained on you, observing every little movement and twitch. He was studying you again, like bacteria under a microscope. A blush fought its way to your face, painting your cheeks a shade darker.

You moved away from Rex wordlessly, keeping your attention fixated on wrapping the gauze over his shoulder.

As you stepped back, Rex uttered a small thank you, easing back into his shirt.

The two of you remained silent, you watching him put his armour on, and him fighting to keep the poker on his face. His heart was beating fast, hard against his ribcage and he worried you could hear it in the silent confines of the medbay.

You continued watching, quietly, even as he uttered another ‘thank you’ and headed for the exit.

Your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Captain?”

“Doctor?” He asked, his body half facing you.

You swallowed, taking a sudden, deep breath.

“Thank you… For saving my life back there. I owe you.” You said, offering a small, rigid smile.

He shook his head at you, mirroring your smile. Much softer, though.

“I guess you do, Stitches. I’ll see you around.” He said, before stepping outside. The doors closed behind him with a woosh, and you should have felt relief. You could breathe again. But your chest ached. He saved your life, he took care of you, so why did you feel so tense in his presence? So nervous?

Stop being silly, you thought as you made your way over to your desk, the screen of your holopad lighting up. You did your best to focus on the reports at hand, and yet you couldn’t fight off the giddy smile that ghosted over your face, or the nervous, unsteady racing of your heart.

Or the recurring memory of his lips so close to yours.

Tags: @flamingbisexual08

Regency era Rex is coddling my brain and it’s 2AM AND I-

I’ve already written an outline for a story but THIS. 🤧🤧🤧

Quick warning this is spicy and MDNI 👺

The mellow glow of a candle is the only source of light amongst his bedchamber. Soft, feathery cushions are pliable under his weight, the sheets tender and tangled with sweat and constant movement.

It feels as though a weight has been dropped onto his chest, his breathing laboured and his heart racing with vigour. His fingers trail every curve of her body, nails dragging just enough to have goosebumps spreading like wildfire over his skin.

But it is when she utters his name, her voice strained, breathless and yet tender, that something finally snaps in him.

His gaze is trained on her lips, and his throat runs dry. They’re perfect. Swollen from his incessant attacks, a tint darker after he was done with them; biting and tugging.

He rests his face along her neck. His nose caresses her jugular, inhaling the scent of expensive soaps and fine perfumes; lavender and peppermint. Chosen by his own hand.

His grip on her waist tightens, his muscles flexing as he flips her over. Her legs entangle with his own and she lets a giggle escape as he allows himself to indulge in her presence one last time. He is quick to ease in, swallowing the sounds that leave her throat as he holds her throat, melding his lips against her own.

The weight lifts off his chest with every tender movement, and a smile eases its way onto his lips. This moment… It was perfect.

She was perfect.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝

Viscount!Captain Rex x Maid!F!Reader Pt. 2, Pt.3, Pt.4 The Viscount is a renowned bachelor, known for his kindness, his wits and his charm. Ladies from across the planet swoon over him, visit him, are denied by him. He is a respectable, well-known man. What nobody seems to know is his knack for venturing out into the night, returning home with treasures, jewels, drinks, and most of all, ladies of the night. What does one do when they are caught red-handed, by none other than a lowly maid? Word Count:3,474 Warnings: Descriptions of sexual activity, minor swearing, also halfway unedited (will work on that). If I missed anything (pls im not good with tags) please let me know! ^^ A/N: This Rex fanfic idea took over my brain and I already have the whole story planned out and I'm in love <33

The evening burned so hot; the arid August air grazed through your lungs like gravel. The usually rackety crickets were unusually quiet, except for the occasional croak. The steady drip, drip, drip of water filled the still evening. And then, as your hands wrenched the dirty water from the rag, a hushed groan trickled from around the corner. It was quickly suppressed, but you had heard it. Slowly, you stood up from your crouched position, you abandoned the rug on the concrete. As far as you were aware, all the residents of the Viscounts’ manor were asleep. You took a step forward, craning your head in the direction of where the sound came from. Nothing. Just the occasional hum of crickets and your steady breathing.

With a few more steps forward, your heart leaped to your throat. It wasn’t nothing. Someone was there. Hidden behind the arched wall and doorway that separated the manor from the extensive, plush green, mile-long fields. Were they intruders? But the manor was so far out into the countryside. It would take hours to get there by carriage, never mind by foot. Who would bother going that far? But it was a possibility. An unlikely one, but still a possibility.

The grass was soft beneath your bare feet, cold and tickling as you inched closer and closer. Your thoughts were racing, and your heart was punching vigorously on your ribcage. What were you going to do, if they were in fact, intruders?

As you reached the wooden doorway you noticed it was slightly ajar. Enough to fit an arm through it, enough to not be seen by anyone unless they were standing directly in it, watching. The wood was harsh against your palm as you leaned against it, scraping warningly on your fingertips.

Your heart dropped. Your throat dried. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up.

Breathy, desperate muffled moans, the ruffle of expensive silks and fine cotton, the rhythmic sound of skin against skin. It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been splashed in your face. This… You’d been hired as a House Maid. Previously you had worked in a number of different roles, so you had seen all the different kinds of dirty and awful in homes and manors alike. This wasn’t one of them. This was a situation you found yourself stunned at. Confused at. What were they doing?

The woman’s hair covered their faces, lending them some privacy in such an intimate, and yet such vulgar moment. Who were they? Servants? No. The clothing was too expensive, this place too hidden. All you knew was that this was deliberate. Whether you were meant to find them was a coincidence or not, you weren’t sure.

Unexpectedly, the woman leaned her head back. Her lips, coloured some finest shade of red, gaped openly at the sky above. You didn’t recognise her. But the male who had trapped her against the wall – you knew his face all too well.

He was your employer.

The Viscount.

A light gasp escaped you, realisation crashing into you like a carriage into a boulder. His head snapped in your direction.

Surprise gleamed in his eyes, but he continued his ministrations, his gaze locked onto you. As if he had casted a spell, you found yourself unable to move. Your feet were cemented to the ground, your lungs still as you held your breath. You were a mere statue, your gaze forever stuck on the pair before you. There was a glint of a warning in his irises, as if he was daring you to make a sound, daring you to interrupt him.

Your gaze wavered, straying to glance at the darkness behind.

The amber glow of a nearby lamp was the only source of light, the only thing that allowed you to comprehend what was truly happening. It flickered with each gentle breeze that passed, swaying alluringly on the burning wick. It burned warm, so warm you could almost feel the scalding, waxy trail of it across your skin. The fields behind were pushed away into the background, swallowed in complete and utter darkness, the forests looming in the far distance like a shadow. Whatever was lurking out there would have been a more welcome disturbance than what you were witnessing up close. You felt like a meagre, frightened insect tangled up and struggling in a sticky web you had no business soaring into.

The Viscounts’ voice snapped your attention back to him. No, it commanded you.

“Look at me.” He rasped out, and for a moment you faltered. You weren’t sure whether the command was directed at you, or the mystery woman. Were you beginning to get caught up in a fantasy you had no right to dream?

With another moan, she gripped the Viscount’s face, pulling it towards her. “Kiss me.” She uttered, looking up at him through a fan of thick, dark eyelashes. He was quick to oblige, leaning forward, pressing his lips against hers. His gaze slowly abandoned you, and so did the spell with it. Your feet no longer felt stuck, your hands no longer felt ice cold, and your breaths no longer felt suppressed.

Like a fawn, you scurried away, bunching your skirts in your hand. Your feet carried you as fast and as quiet as they could. Your sight landed on the wooden bucket you had abandoned, and with one hand, you reached for it. You couldn’t leave any traces behind. You couldn’t risk losing your job.

“What was I thinking?” You muttered to yourself as you entered the manor again, heading straight for the kitchens. How long had you spent staring and gaping at them? Surely long enough for the images to replay vividly in your mind, long enough for all the floors to dry up. The tiles sparkled like thousands of miniscule diamonds under the low glow of candles. Vases of ruby pink and white, carefully picked out roses littered the hallways, spaced exactly five metres apart until they stopped just before the kitchens.

One hand reached for the door, pushing on it with vigour.

In your hurry, you forgot one thing.

The doors creaked and protested loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. You flinched, gripping the doors. You stopped them from moving, and warily glanced over your shoulder. Not a living soul in sight.

“Thank the lord.” You whispered, and silently slipped through the small space.

The door closed behind you with a soft thump, and you allowed yourself to take a deep breath. Through the nose, into the chest. You counted to three, holding your breath, before slowly exhaling. You repeated the motion as you emptied the bucket and hung the rags to dry. You continued it as you made your way to your small, closet-sized bedroom. Your steps were small, timid as you feared of walking past someone, anyone. Fear prickled at your skin; every sound of the manor caused goosebumps to flare up on your skin like a rash.

You couldn’t feel more relieved when the small, wooden door came into view. Gently, you twisted the doorknob, letting yourself in.

You let it stay open, just long enough to light a single candle.

The flame flickered as it grew, warmth extending from the wick to your fingertips. It engulfed the room in a fading orange glow as you closed and locked the door. The only sound in the room was your deep inhales and exhales, and the light creak of your bed as it dipped under your weight.

Your heart was pounding, blood thrumming deafeningly in your skull. Your stomach twisted in an unfamiliar knot, and a burning sensation settled at your core long ago. Your thoughts were quiet, replaying the sight like a melody on a gramophone.

You had stood there long enough to imprint the sight into your memory.

You could recount every second of the encounter, every drawn-out breath, every sound a scullery maid like you shouldn’t hear, as if you were a sinner in church.

“I’ll be lucky if I still have a job and a roof over my head in the morning.” You muttered to yourself as you stood up, readying for bed. You had a long day ahead tomorrow, to be sure.

But as you lay under the duvet, your mind couldn’t stop replaying the memory.

Those golden, dangerous eyes.

Morning rolled around faster than you had expected, your eyes snapping open when someone knocked loudly on your door. You scurried out of your bed, wrapping a stray blanket over your chest.

“Coming!” You shouted, searching for your shoes. You searched under your bed, and next to your small closet. They were nowhere to be found.

Two more knocks, and you moved towards the door. Screw it, you’d find your shoes later.

As the lock turned and the hinges swung, you were greeted with a surprising sight. The Housekeeper was at your door.

“Mrs Opal? What can I do for you?” You had asked, fighting hard to keep your surprise at bay.

The woman scorned you with a glare, her lips drawn into a thin line. She looked you up and down, her hands neatly folded behind her back. After a silent moment, she spoke up.

“The Viscount has requested your presence in his study… He says there is a matter he must discuss with you. Get dressed and make your way to the First Floor.” She said promptly, walking away before you had a chance to even think of a response. Confusion was clear on your features as you peered out, watching the Housekeeper disappear round the corner.

What did the Viscount himself want to do with you?

You shook your head, mumbling profanities under your breath. The door closed with a loud thud behind you as you began searching for your neatest piece of clothing. The best you could do was the violet petticoat given to every member of staff. Working as fast as you could, with practiced, experienced hands, you were dressed within minutes.

As your hand landed on the doorknob, your stomach churned. What could be so strangely important that the Viscount wished to speak to you?

Your footsteps were light and hurried as you made your way through the hallways, your voice soft as you greeted the other members of staff. The kitchens were already busy, with cooks and maids scrambling about to deliver breakfast to the family.

The footmen were at their stations, nodding lightly to you as you passed each one by. The rows of ruby pink and creamy white roses were a welcome sight, and a sense of calm washed over you. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been so bad. Maybe, possibly, you were about to receive the opportunity of a lifetime.

Your thoughts didn’t stray even as you made your way up the stairwell, the soft thud of your footsteps the only sound coming from the lower floors.

And, as you reached the first floor, you were greeted with the sight of the Housekeeper and the Steward moving animatedly, deep in discussion. They seemed to be… Aggravated. No, perhaps quarrelling.

They stopped as you approached slowly, your hands entwined together at your front.

“There you are. You look presentable.” Was the highest appraisal Mrs Opal could lend out. You gave a curt nod, thanking her quietly. The steward remained silent; his bird brown eyes trained on you. “Now follow us. The Viscount shouldn’t be made to wait.” She continued, leading you down the hallways. More light flooded the upper floor, and you couldn’t help but admire the view of the windows from afar. The ground floor and basements lacked natural light or windows, and it was more common for you to be scrubbing something during daylight hours.

Mrs Opal and the Steward exchanged no more words in your presence, choosing to remain distant and silent. Their footsteps remained as light as a phantom’s, almost floating on the soft, teal carpet. They served their purpose; chilling you to the bone with anticipation and uneasiness.

The air felt cleaner up here, you noted. More windows had been opened, allowing fresh, countryside air to waft in. Along with it came the harmonious chirps of songbirds and insects alike. You rubbed the material of your skirt between your fingers, doing your best to wipe any sweat off as the doors to the Viscount’s study came into view. As the three of you came to a stop, Mrs Opal and the Steward exchanged glances, before turning to you. This time, the Steward spoke up

“When in the presence of the Viscount, you do not speak unless spoken to. You do not look at him, unless you are requested to do so. You do not sit unless you are permitted to. And last of all, we refer to the Viscount as ‘Lord’. Are we clear?” His voice was like a nail under a tool, sharp and unrelenting as he hammered the rules into your skull.

“Yessir.” You answered quietly, not looking up.

“Wonderful.” He responded, and inched closer to the door. He raised a gloved fist to the door, and knocked three, distinct and perfected knocks, as if the rhythm and consistency of a knock varied from situation to situation. The doors opened before him, the hinges silent, unlike the ones on the ground floor.

“Come in.” A soft voice instructed, and the three of you walked in in a single file. The Steward led at the front, Mrs Opal stationed in the middle, and you at the end. The doors were closed behind your figure, and you failed to hide your jitteriness as you jumped slightly. However, you did succeed in supressing the urge to look back. Your head remained tilted downwards, your sight focused on the diamond-patterned carpet beneath your feet. A short-lived relief surged through you as you remembered; you had lost your shoes. You were essentially barefoot on the Viscount’s expensive carpet. The morning had already had a rocky start, what was next?

“This is the House Maid you requested to see, my Lord. Is there anything else you need, my Lord?” The Stewards’ voice softened, his stern posture shrinking under the gaze of the Viscount.

He must have whispered or something, as you were caught by surprise when both the Steward and Mrs Opal stuttered in confusion, and you once again had to fight the urge to look up.

“Must I repeat myself?” The Viscount asked, his voice deep and gravelly. Someone must have had an early morning, you thought to yourself.

The Steward shook his head, gesturing for Mrs Opal to follow him.

The doors opened, the sound of a few pairs of footsteps retreating reached you, before they swung again.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, flapping wildly like the wings of a hummingbird. Were the two of you alone? If so… Why?

You swallowed the forming lump in your throat, rubbing the pads of your thumbs on the cotton material of your skirt. Why was he so quiet? Were you meant to look up? No. The Steward – you really should have asked for his name – was stern on telling you to avoid doing so.

So what was the Viscount waiting for?

“You may look up, little one.” His voice was coarse, finer than the most miniscule, smoothest grains of sand on Tattooine. Heat rushed to your face, and you questioned whether it was from the uneasiness you felt or embarrassment. As your eyes met his, recognition rushed through you.

Those golden eyes. Stern, solid and unrelenting. And yet… There was something else. Something you couldn’t quite decipher as your heart leaped into your throat.

“Recognise me?” He asked softly, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Should you lie? Should you be truthful? Which option would ensure you’d keep your job?

A soft laugh bubbled in his chest. Your gaze wavered, and you found solace in focusing on the cedarwood desk separating him from you. You decided on the latter.

“Y- Yes, my Lord. You’re the Viscount, my e- employer.” You stuttered out softly, wincing as you seemed to be doing everything but looking confident and calm. Surely, this was some cruel joke. You were sure you had dreamed up the events of last night after collapsing into your bed from exhaustion. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real.

You allowed yourself to look up at him once more, and your chest tightened at his expression.

He seemed to be amused by all this.

“Let us not beat around the bush, and get straight to the point. I know what you saw, little one. But do you know what’ll happen to you now?” He questioned once more, challenging you to look away. He was relaxed and yet domineering, confident, his form leaning against the chair, his legs spread wide open. He was the one with all the power here, as much as you wished he wasn’t.

You took in a deep, shaky breath before replying.

“I’ll be removed from my position as House Maid immediately, my Lord.” Your voice was steady as you maintained eye contact, your breathing method calming you down.

He remained quiet, observing you like a hawk watching its next meal. His thumb caressed the plush softness of his bottom lip in slow, circular motions.

“If I may be dismissed, my Lord, I shall go and pack my belongings.” You tried again, before you paused. You broke Rule Number One. Do not speak unless spoken to. The Viscount betrayed none of his thoughts at your mishap, though he quirked a curious brow at you.

But what did it matter if you were about to lose your job anyway? And with that, you went against your better judgement once more.

“If I’m honest, though, you shouldn’t be so… Intimate with a strange woman at late hours of the night in your back garden, my Lord. At that point you are begging to be caught. So, technically speaking, it is not my fault,” You paused, pursing your lips, “If it were any other servant, the whole manor would know by now.”

Kriff. What were you thinking?

He gave a soft hum in response, his posture straightening up.

“You dare speak to your employer so… Callously?” He questioned, but you didn’t grace him with another smart-ass response. You had dug yourself a deep enough grave already, you might as well forget your headstone.

“To ease your confusion, I wasn’t aware that any servant would be working at such late hours of the night. I also own this manor, and do you know what the word ‘own’ means?” He questioned, quirking a brow at you, again. “It means it belongs to me, it means I can do as I please, with whomever I please, wherever I please. Does that aid you in your confusion?” He rounded his desk, his footsteps light and calculated right until his chest was inches from yours, his figure towering over you. Your breathing stopped completely, your eyes almost bulging out from their sockets as your heart raced faster than a horse. You had royally, majorly pissed him off, haven’t you?

Unexpectedly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The crease between his brow eased up, and for once, the Viscount looked relaxed.

“I admire your confidence, little one. No one has ever spoken to me so… Plainly. Rudely, even. But I’d reign it in a little, for future reference. I’m not going to dispose of you, no.” He whispered, searching your eyes with his own, as if there was a lost treasure buried deep within the vibrant colours of your irises.

“You’re… Not?” You asked again, swallowing harshly. Clearly he wasn’t too bothered by your obvious disregard for the rules he imposed on the servants.

He shook his head, still smiling down at you.

“No. I’m instead promoting you. You’ll work as my personal servant, after all, I can’t have you be free to gossip about my nightly endeavours to anyone. Wouldn’t you agree, little one?” He cocked his head to the side, eyeing you up and down.

Heat rushed over your face like a flame, burning and scalding until you were left as nothing but ashes. Why was he so relaxed? So calm? What was going on?

You blinked once, then twice, before remembering to breathe. His scent flooded your senses, until all that you could think of and feel was the Viscount himself. He smelled like a warm, wet spring day, of pine needles and steady streams of water. Was this man anything but perfect?

His fingers gently cupped your chin, tilting your head upwards until he had your entire attention focused on him.

“What do you think?” He inquired again, dissatisfied with your lack of response.

You fought your way out of his touch, shaking your head.

“W- What?”

Tags: @actuallybarb <33

Writing part 2 to this cute little fic and so far I like where the plot is going🫣

Gonna be quite angsty..

Part 2 to ‘the viscount and his maid’ is all wrapped up now, needs some editing and hopefully it will be out later today 🫣!!! It’s a bit of a slow chapter (a filler even) but it introduces a new beloved character 😏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝

Pt 1, Part 2, Pt 3, Pt4. Viscount!Captain Rex x Maid!F!Reader The Viscount is a renowned bachelor, known for his kindness, his wits and his charm. Ladies from across the planet swoon over him, visit him, are denied by him. He is a respectable, well-known man. What nobody seems to know is his knack for venturing out into the night, returning home with treasures, jewels, drinks, and most of all, ladies of the night. What does one do when they are caught red-handed, by none other than a lowly maid? Word Count: 4,385 Warnings: none from what I can recall A/N: This is a bit more of a filler chapter, it's much needed to move the story forward and introduce new characters (one included in this) for later on ^^

You didn’t sleep well that night. Nor the night after.

Just hours after the Viscount had informed you of your change in positions, you’d been forced to move to the upper levels of the mansion. You had been gracefully gifted with a slightly larger room, in the furthest corner of the second floor. Your bed looked slightly bigger, felt slightly more luxurious, spacious, even.

By the time you awoke, your back felt stiffer, and your sheets warmer. Your mind felt hazy and disoriented, and the new room hadn’t quite felt like home yet. Your body itched to return to your small closet, the one place you found yourself craving after a long day’s worth of work.

But those fantasies and mind-puzzles could be saved for later. You had to focus on the ‘now’.

As soon as she had been informed, Mrs Opal wasted no time in assigning new tasks to you. Each morning, you and the Steward were to wake the Viscount, you were to prepare his clothing and follow him around as the Steward explained the proceedings of the day before disappearing off to someplace. You were to be a personal barber, daily personal assistant and sometimes caretaker. Not your typical Valet, but you realised there was little you could do.

The Viscount was insistent on keeping you close at all times.

And so, the next time you had crossed the Viscount, he took you by surprise. He hadn’t done so much as even acknowledge your presence. Whether that was for the better, or, for the worse, you couldn’t quite tell yet. The stiffness in your back prevented any more than a few simple thoughts.

Maybe it was typical to do so.

Either way, you were relieved. You did not need the entire staff to see the phantom interactions between you and the Viscount. But no matter what you did, it seemed that the entire household had eyes on the backs of their heads.

That first morning, you had almost received a lashing for simply looking at the Viscount. Apparently, it was in your job description to keep your head low and your voice lower. You were not to utter a word.

At least around the Steward.

Your eyes remained trained on the sharp slope of his jaw, the long blade clutched between your fingers feeling threatening with each precise incision along the tender skin.

Your breathing was steady, your fingers trembling, and your eyes focused as you ignored the burning gaze of the Viscount. He was definitely trying to mess with you. Make you slip up. At this point, you felt like simple game to him. An unsuspecting, grazing fawn.

He watched you with an eager curiosity, studying every inch of your face, like a little toddler exploring nature. This was probably the most intimate he was with a woman without the presence of sexual need or desire.

A curt, relieved sigh escaped you as your fingers carried out the last stroke, leaving the Viscount with a neat, freshly shaven face. You reached for the wet cloth beside you, wrenching the water from it before you gently wiped at his face, removing all excess foam. His eyelids finally fell, separating the two of you, and you allowed your eyes to stray a little, watching drops of water cascading down the expanse of his jaw and throat, before they connected with the towel wrapped neatly around his collarbone and shoulders.

You felt a tinge of pride as the Viscount was visibly relaxed.

You turned away for a moment, towards the chimney. A lone towel had been hung close to it, to ensure it was dry and warm. You observed the flickering, amber flames for a moment, before you returned to the Viscount. You wished to reach out, to feel the sunlight-like warmth of the fire on your skin. Instead, you confided in the burning comfort of the towel.

A soft sigh escaped the Viscount as you pressed the material against his skin. As you moved to wrap it around his face, you were promptly stopped.

“Don’t.” He muttered out, raising a single hand. His eyelids remained closed, and yet you felt more watched now than ever.

Your heart dropped, and the false sense of calm you had managed to conjure up had shattered into a million pieces. A cold sweat bloomed over your skin, your hands paused in mid-air.

“Don’t…?” You repeated, unsurely.

The Viscount took a moment, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Don’t wrap it around my face. Just… Stick to pressing.” Was all he said, his hand dropping back to the armrest.

“Yes, my Lord.” You muttered, giving a slight, courteous nod, even if the Viscount couldn’t see it. The moment felt like an eternity as you gently pressed the towel against his face, making sure it didn’t cover his mouth or nose. The Viscount didn’t protest, and so you assumed that was the most he’d tolerate.

You couldn’t slip up.

You had seen the state of the other girls who had.

Their wounds, if not treated, would quickly become infected. They’d fall ill and were forced to leave. And if they were treated, the scars would run deep into their skin, like valleys that weren’t ever meant to be there. Some would say they still hurt from time to time, even if their last lashing was years prior.

“That’s all, my Lord.” You softly spoke as you stepped away, collecting all the essentials. He took a moment to open his eyes, but when he did, he didn’t leave the seat. His gaze was trained on the fire before him, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. Instantaneously, your body went into full alert. You cleared your throat, attempting to gain his attention.

The Viscount didn’t even turn his head at the sound.

“M- My Lord? Are you feeling unwell?” You asked, keeping your distance. Whatever it was, you weren’t keen on getting involved in it.

After a moment of silence, you heard him sharply take in a breath.

“You’re dismissed.” His tone was ice cold, quiet as he hummed the words out.

You blinked in surprise. Were you supposed to argue? Remind him of his duties? Or leave him be until it was time to leave?

“Y- Yes my Lord.” You uttered, taking all your equipment. As you opened the door, you looked back, giving a slight bow of your head. The Viscount was still staring at the fire, unmoving even as the door slid shut with a soft thump.

Confusion prickled at the back of your head as you headed down the staircase, heading for the washrooms. Skilfully, you ignored the curious stares and mocking whispers as you kept your head down.

You were used to fellow servants gossiping about the daily lives of their employers, and occasionally you’d lend a listening ear. But you certainly did not enjoy feeling like the centre of the attention.

There were more important matters on your mind.

The Viscount was certainly odd; that went without saying.

It was strange, his behaviour. One moment he was intimidating and charming, the next he was oddly distant and quiet. His eyes would haze over with a fog, as if he was miles away in the past.

Whatever it was, you needed him to wake up from it. He had a ball to attend to that evening, and you needed him to feel ready and excited, after all, this year he was intending on marrying. You’d decided you would do anything to gain his trust and help him, although he didn’t need much help in the way of looks and charm…

A familiar voice reached your ears as you rounded the corner

“I don’t know what that girl did, but I do know one thing,” The voice spoke, and you quietened your steps so as to not betray your presence.

“And what’s that, Opal?” A masculine voice replied. It was the Butler, Mr Karr.

“Nothing good will come of this. She knows something that the Viscount doesn’t want anyone to know about, but sooner or later, the entire house staff and town will hear of it,” She paused, and you could hear the heavy sigh escaping her lips, “One way or another.”

You carefully peeked round the corner, looking Mrs Opal and the Butler up and down. Both had busied themselves with washing and drying some glasses.

It seemed as though they also enjoyed indulging themselves in a little bit of gossip.

However, you knew Mrs Opal was right. One way or another, this entire situation would turn sour, and you would be the sole victim of it.

You ducked out of sight and leaned your entire body against the wall. Just wait a little bit, or else I’m going to look suspicious, you thought to yourself. Your arms were slowly beginning to feel uncomfortable, the towels and shaving items were heavy, but you did not want to raise suspicions. Mrs Opal seemed to be the only person in this house that was trying to help you, to some degree at least.

The two didn’t say anything else, settling instead for a comfortable silence, and after a few more moments, you made your way into the washrooms.

You made your presence known as you stepped down into the lowered room, avoiding as many puddles as you could. The Butler glanced to you, acknowledging you with a curt nod.

“I have brought the Viscounts’ trimming essentials, Mrs Opal.” You quietly stated and stifled a laugh as the woman flinched and clutched at her chest.

“Goodness me, Y/n! You do not sneak up on others like this!” She exclaimed, half-heartedly whacking you with a rag on your bottom. A yelp left your lips as you hopped out of the way, narrowly missing a slip up.

“Apologies, Mrs Opal, I didn’t mean to!” You said quickly, “The Viscount dismissed me, it seems like he needed a moment alone, so I’ve brought his towels and tools to be cleaned.” You explained, setting the basket down on the floor. Mrs Ophelia looked towards you and with a nod, returned to her tasks.

“I’ll have a scullery maid take care of it. Now go back, you aren’t to be away from the Viscount for long.” She quickly dismissed you, and with a curt nod, you made your way out.

“That’s the maid?” The Butler was quick to ask as soon as you had disappeared out of sight.

“Careful! She might hear!” Mrs Opal scolded, and as you got further away, her voice became fainter and fainter until it blended in with the other background noises of the mansion.

It only had been a couple of days, but you felt yourself warming up to the woman. Previously, you had known her as a stone-cold, strict housekeeper, but now, now you felt there was more to her stony exterior than she let on.

Or maybe you were tricking yourself.

Maybe she was just gossiping and wasn’t looking out for you. Maybe she was as selfish as many of the others, after all, the life of a servant was anything but pleasant. Who could blame her?

However, there was that small inkling of hope within you; maybe she’d help you when you’d need it the most.  

Those thoughts could be saved for another time, though. For now, you needed to return to the Viscount.

You feared what the Steward, Mr Owens, would do were you to ‘neglect’ your duties for too long.

The sound of hurried footsteps reached your earshot, and you slowly turned your head to check out what was happening. You steadied yourself with a hand on the grand staircase, and quirked a brow as Mrs Opal came into view.

“Y/n, wait!” She exclaimed, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you glanced around. It seemed that she not only caught your attention, but also everyone else’s.

“Yes, ma’am?” You inquired, twisting your body to face her.

“I forgot to mention it to you earlier,” She paused, catching her breath. “I’ll be taking you to the village today, as ordered by the Viscount. Be ready and waiting by five o’clock.” She said as she closed the distance between the two of you, looking up at you with a strange seriousness.

“We’ll be going to the village? Whatever for?”

“I’ll tell you on the way,” She said, glancing sideways at the tuned in onlookers, “It seems like we have found ourselves an audience. Scram!” She suddenly exclaimed; your body flinched in response. She really knew how to raise her voice.

It seemed to work though as the scullery maids and footmen dispersed, leaving the grand staircase as empty and quiet as it was meant to be. It wasn’t common for staff to linger around the area.

“I’ll let you get going now.” She waved you off, descending the stairs.

“Yes ma’am.” You muttered, resuming your climb up.

How strange.

You’d never been tasked with duties that were to take place outside of the manor. What was so important the Viscount was willing to let you go into the village?

You bunched your skirts in your palms, lifting them just enough to not risk tripping. When did climbing stairs become so daunting?

Though your exhaustion was shadowed over by the awe you felt as you looked around the hallways.

Creamy white tapestries, golden accents on railings and paintings expertly placed everywhere. Navy blue curtains were drawn at every window, and you noticed they almost touched the ceiling as you craned your neck. Ruby pink and white roses were perfectly spaced, following the edge of the wall. They lead to different rooms and windows like a path of crumbs in a forest.

You wondered whether that was the Viscount’s influence or someone else’s.

You paused in your steps.

A figure stood atop the staircase caught your attention. You recognised him.

Lord Wolffe, one of the Viscount’s older brothers.

What was he doing here? As far as you were aware, he was always hiding away in his study, or disappearing for drinks late at night.

And now, he was watching you. His gaze scorned your skin, like a blaster bullet.

Maybe he’d be gone by the time you reached the top.

But with each step, and each glance up, he wasn’t budging. His stare was solely focused on you. You felt your heart drop into your stomach as you reached the last step.

“My Lord?” You asked, keeping your head low. You did not wish to upset another one of your employers.

You ensured to keep an appropriate distance between the two of you. You were close enough to signal to him that you needed to pass, but far enough to not invade his personal space, or make it seem as though you held no respect for him. But the Lord didn’t move.

“Yes?” He asked. You could feel his glare on you.

“May I pass by, my Lord?” You asked, keeping your focus concentrated on his shiny polished shoes.

There was no hesitation in his response.

“You may not.”

Your head raised faster than your mind could comprehend his response.

“Why n- not?” A small gasp escaped you, and your skirts dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth. A slip up.

“M- My apologies, my Lord. I did not mean to be disrespectful.” You said quickly, bowing your head back down. You could feel your heart thundering against your chest, so quickly and strongly it almost hurt.

He did not respond. Instead, his feet moved, and his fingers cupped your chin.

“Look at me.” His tone was sharp yet gentle, like a blade, falsely comforting until you applied enough pressure to cut. Hesitantly, you allowed him to angle your face until it met his, but your gaze concentrated on the wall behind him. You did not wish to anger the Lord.

“M- My Lord?”

He studied your features with a scolding stare, causing heat to rush up to your face and shivers down your spine. What could he want from you, a lowly servant?

“You’re an obedient one, aren’t you?” He questioned, his hold on your chin tightening. Were you supposed to grant him a response or nod your head or remain quiet? Mrs Opal did not prepare you for this type of situation. You weren’t even sure she herself had ever encountered such one. You weren’t even sure this man before you wasn’t crazy.

You opted for the obvious; remain quiet.

He leaned a tad forward, just enough for you to feel the coldness of his presence on your skin. Your shoulders stiffened, almost shrinking back into your body. A lump formed in your throat and you fought hard to swallow it. You felt trapped, and in all honesty, you were.

He studied your features like an open book, his gaze dragging over each blemish and dip with clear precision, as if he did this kind of thing often.

You’d definitely have bruises on your chin if his nails added on any more pressure.

But his tone held more hostility than his touch ever could.

“What do you know? You’ve had my brother stressing all morning, ad’ika.” He hissed out, squinting at your figure. Maybe his cybernetic eye can read minds, you thought. Maybe it could see the quickening of your pulse or the dilation of your pupils.

Did he find this amusing? Certainly. But you were officially shitting yourself. Trembling in his hold. What did he want from you? Why was he so strange?

“I- I don’t know My Lord I-“

“Ah ah,” He tutted, easing his grip on you, “Don’t forget your manners, we only talk when talked to.” He taunted, abandoning your chin with a harsh tug. His knuckles moved to the side of your face, gently dragging over the skin before cupping it in his palm.  

The contrast between his touch and his tone was giving you whiplash.

His face neared yours, until you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. Your eyes widened and your hands felt clammy against the soft fabric of your skirts.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard or seen, ad’ika,” He paused, his hand tilting your head until your gaze was locked with his, “But the moment word gets out, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it.”

“Wolffe?” His own voice called out, but from your far left. You didn’t dare to look away, too afraid he’d snap your neck with the lightest of touches. Gods, what did you get involved in? Why?

Wolffe was quick to retreat, leaving your stunned figure breathless on the staircase.

The Viscounts’ steps were light as he made his way over, eyeing his brother curiously. He was well aware of just how menacing Wolffe could be, and he did not wish for him to scare you so awfully.

“What are you doing, brother?” The Viscount asked, eyeing him up and down.

“Just familiarising myself with your new maid, Rex.” He replied, sending a nonchalant nod your way. The Viscount glanced between the two of you with a raised brow.

“By scaring her shitless, brother?”

“Precisely.”

The Viscount took a long inhale, staring his brother down. Wolffe didn’t back down, and the two remained motionless for what felt like an eternity.

And there you stood, watching like a bystander with tense shoulders and a rattled heart and a running mind. That Wolffe Lord was definitely crazy.

“It’s a good thing I’ve caught you doing this,” He paused, throwing a glance your way, “Or else someone would’ve suffered the consequences.” He continued, walking past his brother. He halted at the top of the staircase, staring down at your frozen figure.

“Let’s go, we’ve got things to do and places to be.” He said directly to you, brushing past you without another word.

 Your mind seemed to be frozen as you remained in your place, looking up at the Lord. He returned the stare with a small smirk gracing his lips.

Damn, he was attractive. But awfully strange.

With a flutter of your eyelashes, you threw the Lord one last weary look, your hold on your skirts tightening as you turned and followed the Viscount.

The trek down was quiet, the two of you lost in your own thoughts. You weren’t even sure you should be conversing with the Viscount. Mr Owens would surely have your head for that. But how could he if he wasn’t around to see…?

Your mind kept wondering back to Lord Wolffe.

His character intimidated you, to put it lightly. His stare never relented even when his brother called out his name. He was interrogating you and was so keen and set on getting his questions answered. But you couldn’t. The Viscount would have your head for it.

However, he had impeccable timing, it seemed. Or Lord Wolffe has indeed done this before and the Viscount just knew.

You observed him, noticing how his blue and white armour hugged his body protectively. Beskar. Pure, expertly forged Beskar. Lord Wolffe was also wearing it. It was a symbol of the Mandalorians, though you weren’t aware of the Viscount and his brothers having any connection to the planet of warriors. What was he doing on the planet of Naboo?

You were the Viscount’s maid, and yet you knew so little about the man.

Where he was from, his age, his past, his favourite foods and favourite activities, even the place you were so urgently needed at right in this moment.

So, against your better judgement, you spoke up.

“My Lord?” Quietly, you asked. No response. Not even a hum.

“My Lord, may I ask where we’re headed to?” You tried again, watching each one of your steps. The Viscount didn’t look back, though his steps slowed.

“The Housekeeper didn’t tell you?”

“Mrs Opal?”

“Yes.” He replied, turning to face you as he stepped on the floor.

“She informed me that her and I would be visiting the village later on.”

“Well, we’re moving it to now. I’ve got other businesses to attend to later,” He was prompt in his response, and proceeded to walk towards the entrance of the mansion, “Inform her of the change of plans, will you?” He turned back to face you once more as the footmen opened the doors.

“B- But my Lord- “

“I’ll be waiting in the carriage.” He said nonchalantly, disappearing through the doors, leaving your gaping form in the hallway.

“What the-?” You questioned but shook your head. It seemed that there was a behavioural pattern between The Viscount and his brothers; so far, they all seem to be giving you whiplash. Their words and actions don’t match up, from what you’ve seen from two of them so far.

You were quick to inform Mrs Opal, though you weren’t quick enough to escape her confused frustration.

“He wants to what!?” She asked angrily as she wiped her hands on a dry rag.

“The Viscount insists on leaving for the village now.” You repeated, flinching as she tossed the piece of material to the side.

“That isn’t what we agreed on! He’ll have to wait, I need to change my skirts, I mean look at me!” She exclaimed, straightening her arms out and down, pointing at her clothing, “I’m drenched from head to toe.”

She let out a frustrated huff, before stomping out of the washrooms.

“Inform him he’ll have to wait; I cannot leave looking like this.” She sent you off with a glare, though you knew it wasn’t truly aimed at you. She knew you were just the messenger.

“Yes ma’am.”

With hurried steps you made your way back to the Viscount. The sun was shining brightly, the breeze cool against the humidity of the day. The sky was crystal clear, the grass an inviting lime green, and the carriage stood out like a scarecrow in a farmers field. It was a tall, mahogany brown thing with purple curtains and two horses. It was a bit too fancy to head to the village in, but it wasn’t up to you to decide.

The Viscount had a reputation to uphold, after all.

As you neared the carriage, you were ready to open the door to it yourself.

But the carriage driver beat you to it, and aided you inside with a practiced perfection. He did this on a daily basis, and yet it still took you by surprise when he asked to hold your hand, letting you use him as support to climb in.

The Viscount was already there and waiting, reading over some sort of pamphlet. His eyebrows were furrowed and eyes focused even when the soft click of the carriage door closing reached his ears.

“So?” He popped the question without ever drawing his gaze away from the words on the page.

“She said we’ll have to wait, my Lord. Mrs Opal was in the middle of washing up the cutlery when I told her.” Your voice was hushed, controlled as your body sunk into the seat, trying to take up as little leg room as possible.

The Viscount sighed loudly and placed the pamphlet down with a whack.

He knocked on the door; impatience clear as a vein popped out in his temple.

“Let’s go now!” His voice was raised, and a few moments later, the carriage slowly began taking off.

“My Lord? Aren’t we going to wait?” You asked, lifting from your seat. You moved the curtains away, peeking through the window and allowing some light to flood the carriage.

“No, I’ve got other businesses to attend to and I need you to be presentable by evening.”

“But what about Mrs Opal?” You paused, furrowing your brows, “I need to be presentable? Whatever for, my Lord?” You questioned again, this time turning your attention to the Viscount. His statement, once processed clearly, had caught you off guard.

With another sigh, he looked up at your staring figure.

“You’re my maid, you’re with me at all times,” He paused, raising his brows and tilting his head, “That means you will be accompanying me to the capital city, and to balls.”

“Oh.”

“And that means you need… New attire.” He continued, looking you up and down to emphasise his point.

“So, we’re going to a boutique, my Lord?”

“Yes, we are.”