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𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (fem reader)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

𝟓.𝟏𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 (𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬) 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐥, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜? 𝐀𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬..

Crystal water swallowed me within its' jaws, rubbery kelp fluttered against my body as I swam through, observing the numerous bubbles that toppled their way towards the surface. I felt a childlike laughter erupt within my chest, and as I let it out with a cheshire grin on my face, I was met with a surprise.

Normally I'd have to swim back up to the surface, refill my lungs with oxygen before I could continue cruising away, but not this time. As the air escaped me, I didn't feel myself suffocating, didn't feel that familiar burn. Instead, I breathed the salty seawater in, as though it was the freshest, crispiest air I've had the pleasure of coming across.

Though the initial shock wore off quickly, and I soon found myself freely floating, spinning around, exploring deeper and deeper until I felt the grainy sand rub against my feet, wafting upwards as my feet dug into it momentarily.

In the far away distance, a speck of gold caught my attention, lingering just behind a boulder. It flowed in the water, casting some sort of spell on me.

As I neared it, a pair of emerald eyes came into view, inspecting me with a tinge of inquisivity.

The closer I got, the more I could see, and subconsciously I knew who it was; I just couldn't recall his name. It felt as though I had known him all my life, and yet I've forgotten him.

His tan skin glinted in the green hue of the water, his grin revealing a row of perfect, pearl-white teeth, his hands gripping onto the boulder which separated us.

I swam closer, placing my hands gently against the cool surface, nearing my face to his with a smile. Our noses almost brushed against each other, his hand coming up to cup my cheek, eyes searching mine lovingly.

A sudden shadow swept over us, and he no longer had that smile plastered on.

His eyes lost that starry spark, and were instead filled with an empty void.

I looked to him, his name leaving my lips, but I couldn't hear it.

I couldn't hear my voice.

I couldn't hear myself.

A burning sensation erupted in my chest, pricking against soft tissue like needles on skin; pricking and tearing.

I looked to the boy, my heart rattling against my chest as the burning intensified. A wildfire under water.

My limbs moved on their own, searching for the source of the sun rays, and my body moved upwards, until he gripped my ankle.

I didn't dare to look down. My feet were kicking violently, arms thrashing as I tried to swim, coughing and inhaling more salty water.

The grip on my skin began to crush at my bone, bruising the skin in shades of pinks and purples and yellows as though it was a canvas. My gaze slowly dropped down, eyelids fluttering as I felt the temperature drop, embracing my body in an icy hold.

"Y/n..." A honeyed voice whispered to me, resonating within the stillness of the water.

I could no longer see the sand, or the kelp. Only those eyes, his eyes. Swallowing me into a void filled with nothingness, my screams and thrashes more futile with each pull.

He pulled, and pulled, and pulled. He pulled until my body was trapped within his steel embrace, his nose ducking to hide in my neck, his hands gripping at my arms until all my thrashing ceased, until my eyelids fell over my eyes, darkness falling over me like a frosty sheet.

"Y/n? Wake up." His voice reached my ears, and my eyes snapped open. My breathing laboured, palms sweaty, heart startled.

"Hey, you need to wake up now." Was that Finnick? Why did he sound so... nervous?

I turned around, towards the direction that his warm, soft hand came from, and saw that he was leaning over my body, concern rippling across his features.

"Finnick? What's wrong?" I muttered, bringing a lazy hand up to my eye. I felt my gut twist, and my heart dropped as I remembered. "Are we there yet?"

Finnick confirmed with a nod, his lips pressed thinly together, hand holding me still. His mouth opened, and closed, like he was at a loss for words. With a shake of his head, he released a tired sigh, rubbing his hand over the side of his face.

"We're almost at the Capitol, Mags and Sylvia need you to be dressed and ready," He paused, inhaling deeply, "They want you and Beau to go wave at the citizens."

At that, a snort left me.

"You're being ridiculous. They want to parade us before the show's even started?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

"Yes, yes they do. That's what I did, and that's what the two of you will do." Finnick confirmed, a tint of annoyance lacing his tone. "I need you to get dressed, alright? You think you can do that for me?" He continued, lowering his face so he could keep level eye contact, his voice a low baritone drumming against my ears.

With an uncertain nod of my head, I released a sigh. "Look- Finnick, I- I'm sorry for- you know, for earlier..." I said, stumbling over my words as I felt another emotion get added into the swirl in my gut.

Finnick's hand rose up to wave me off, and he refused, insisting that it was 'fine' and 'totally understandable'.

"Anyone in your place would have done the same." His voice soothed me, his hand giving me one last squeeze before he rose from my bed, heading towards the door. Just before he was going to leave, he halted, his hand lightly pressing against the door frame, eyes casted down and away from me.

Then, he turned to me again, the glint in his eyes hardened over like stone.

"Look, I will do everything, and I mean everything, in my power to help you. To bring you home." He said, quickly turning back to the door as he pressed a button, the medal doors sliding open. 

"For Annie."

He didn't mean for me to hear it, but I did. And my heart felt as though it was about to shatter into a million pieces as I showered, the warm droplets of water covering my own, thick, salty tears.

The ride to the Capitol didn't take as long as I had expected; it was rather mind-numbing.

As soon as the train had breached through the stone gates, my eyes were bombarded with a flurry of colours; vibrant pinks, oranges, yellows, and so on.

It was ridiculous, the citizens looked almost delirious as they hollered and cheered when Finnick appeared, his face displayed across every single TV screen at the station.

The train had significantly slowed down, enough for some brave citizens to stick their unnaturally coloured hands on the crystal clear glass, leaving smudges and wet, sloppy tear stains as they chased after Finnick, screaming, begging and pleading for at least a glance.

Finnick, of course, didn't disappoint.

Flashing a pearly-white, toothy grin, his dimples on display, his ember eyes had looked directly at the cameras, his body being put on film as the cameras scanned down from the tip of his luscious golden locks, to his torso and more.

This was all just part of the plan. Part of the games.

I had looked up at him in that moment, noticing how that toothy grin, the one I loved so much, hadn't reached his eyes at all.

Maybe if Annie had been there, maybe if he could look after her, he'd seem more joyful.

Or worried.

I remembered how he'd smile so brightly every time she'd enter the room; as though she was the moon to his sun. He never failed to make some form of physical contact with Annie, whether it was pretending she had something in her hair, or holding her hand as he would lead us somewhere, me being left behind, of course.

Maybe if Annie was here instead of me, Finnick would have a better support for his own struggles. 

Not that Annie would be completely okay, but the two were much better together than apart. During my long friendship with them, I have come to learn that they often snuck out together, going on long walks on the beach, or simply walking around the edges of town, to avoid detection.

I remember seeing the two together as I was on my way home after another visit to the seals. 

They were laughing so, so loud,  it was a surprise that no one had heard them. They were causing a ruckus, splashing one another with water, golden rays of sunshine illuminating their bright, infectious smiles. 

That day, I witnessed the two almost kiss, though Annie had prevented it. From the treeline, I could just about make out the furrow between her eyebrows, and the way her lips moved so animatedly. Finnick had responded with a shake of his head, and I almost pictured a cartoonish question mark pop out of thin air, right above his head.

I didn't linger long enough to listen in on their conversation though; my mind was swirling with stormy rain clouds and thunder.

I always knew the two would fall for each other, but I guess a small part of me still hoped for Finnick to return my hidden affections.

Oh well. 

That evening, on my way home, I had released my anger, my frustration, and most of all, my pain, by kicking a boulder until my ankle had swollen over with excruciating pain.

Whatever. 

It didn't matter anymore, I was going to be dead soon enough anyway.

With a shake of my head, I pushed the memory away, my heart stinging just the smallest bit more, tears pricking at my eyes as I side-hugged Beau, putting on my prettiest smile for the cameras.

The rest was a blur, and as I sat in the cold, grey room, all that my mind could focus on was the strange sensations on my skin.

My prep team, who were no better than your average Capitol citizen, had smothered my body in sticky, sweltering wax, mercilessly ripping out my hair by the roots.

They wore sinister grins, their voices an unnaturally high pitch, gasping at the amount of hair they'd managed to rip out in one go.

They had pricked at my eyebrows with a small pair of tweezers, cut my nails, washed and brushed my hair, and then lathered my body in expensive-smelling oils. They eased the burning and dry sensations that the wax had left, flooding my nose with the faintest scent of lavender.

Once they had deemed me to be ready, they left the room in a flurry, leaving me shivering in a paper-thin blue gown.

Like a sitting duck, I took a moment to observe my surroundings; grey stony walls, a surgical table, and an empty stationary table. My prep team had taken great care to take all of their tortuous equipment, leaving me completely and utterly defenceless.

What if my stylist was dangerous? What if they tried something, and I defended myself?

Capitol punishment.

The grey walls seemed to have cracks all over them, expertly hidden under the dim lighting of the room. Had previous tributes tried to break free? Had they smashed everything this small room could provide?

I could imagine some of them, the tallest and the strongest, flipping the strange surgical table I was sat on top of, into the nearby walls in a fit of rage.

In a fit of panic, of horror.

Of helplessness.

A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined the previous years' largest and highest rated tributes, reduced into raging balls of fear and anxiety, clawing desperately at any semblance of security. 

Or maybe they weren't raging or violent, maybe they were simply diminished into cowering marbles of apprehension.

The doorknob clicking open had caught my attention, my head turning to follow the sound. 

A young man came through, a stone-cold expression gracing his features. His jaw was sharp, pulling in smoothly to his plump, peach pink lips, his nose almost as sharp. His eyelids sparkled, and his eyes had an unnaturally honeyed tone, each blink of his eyelids uncovering amber stones. 

"The name's Hazel, I'll be your stylist for this year's Hunger Games." His voice was velvety smooth as he quirked an eyebrow, looking me up and down with an almost patronising gaze. 

I thanked the heavens above for not letting my mouth droop open as I gaped at the man. I had never seen anyone like him, so glamorous, so.. Confident? I couldn't tell whether it was confidence or pure assholery as he finished looking me over, turning to look back as the door opened once again.

"C'mon, hurry up now, I don't have all day for this." Hazel snapped out, a vein popping on the side of his temple as he scolded a pair of peacekeepers, totally unfazed by the heavy guns that they were carrying in one hand each.

The other hands were preoccupied with carrying a large, raven suitcase. From how they heaved, I could tell it was packed with heavy tools. 

As soon as the suitcase touched the floor, Hazel barked orders at them, telling them to get out. 

And once the door had closed, he turned to me, his lips no longer pulled into a purse, and his alluring eyes all the more softer. "Now honey, would you like to come help me get this up?" He asked, his tone smooth like butter.

With a small nod, I got up, helping the man bring the suitcase on top of the table I'd just been sitting on. 

"Holy Mary, what the hell is in that bag?" I looked over to him, my eyes wide and unblinking, arm numb at my side. Hazel huffed out a breathy, snappy laugh, ignoring my question as he reached to open the suitcase.

"This, my dear, is a sewing machine, and those are my fabrics." He pointed with his finger, leaning over to rub the numerous coloured fabrics between his thumb and pointer finger. "You'll see what kind of hocus pocus magic I can do with these soon enough."

My eyes trailed over the fabrics, the different types of needles and threads, all in various colours that I had only seen on rainbows and TV screens, never on the clothing that we had in District 4. 

"Now tell me, are you scared of electricity?" Hazel asked, having leaned his face closer to mine, his sharp eyebrows and hooded eyelids casting a dark shadow over his golden orbs. 

"Hazel never ended up telling me his plans for my parade outfit," I spoke softly to Mags and Sylvia in between spoonful's of a creamy seafood soup, the familiar and yet strange taste of crab lingering on my tongue, "But he did choose out 'Lilac purple' and 'Electric blue' fabrics for my dress." I said with a shrug, eagerly reaching over for a fancy piece of bread called a 'garlic baguette'. 

It was heaven on Earth for my rumbling, exhausted stomach.

Hazel had kept me in that room for longer than I thought, having matched different colours to my skin tone, exclaiming excitedly about how different colours and shades had brought out the best or the worst features on me. 

"So you're telling me he didn't utter a single word to you about what you'll be wearing?" Sylvia asked, rubbing her pointer finger over the plump skin of her bottom lip. 

"Oh, he did ask me if I was scared of... Electricity?" I asked, hesitantly, my hand faltering in the air as I stopped eating the soup. My eyes wandered between the creamy, white liquid, and Sylvia's clouded eyes. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see Beau scarfing down his food, traces of a chocolate liquid visible on the corners of his mouth, his fingers lathered in some sort of oily liquid as he chomped down happily on a piece of deep fried chicken.

A small smile tugged at my lips; the boy was absolutely adorable. His curly locks had been tied into a small, palm-like ponytail to avoid it getting in his eyes, or worse, his food. He wasn't defensive or protective over his food, but his pearly blue irises shined with a newfound eagerness to try out all of the dishes that the Capitol had to offer.

Finnick himself joined in on the conversation once he had finished eating, his cheeks puffed up and stuffed with food, like that of a hamsters'. 

"I assume it will be something similar to what they have in mind for Beau, right?" Finnick asked, looking between everyone seated at the table. 

Earlier, he had muttered something about not having the stylists here and how it was so strange, though it hadn't mattered 'too' much, he had said sarcastically. The business of the stylists could only either make or break the tributes, after all. 

"I- I want to... T-to sleep." Mags rasped out, her voice strained and throaty as she massaged her throat, clutching her armrest to stand up. Finnick rushed to her side, his hands gently offering support to the woman, a warm smile gracing his face and a glint of worry in his eyes.

I took in a deep breath, lifting the bowl of soup to my lips to ensure I finished the whole thing, before I looked to Beau. "C'mon little man, let's go sleep now, alright?" I asked, though my voice seemed to sound so foreign to my ears now.

Beau turned his head to me, eyes looking up in confusion. 

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Concern laced his tone, and the boy placed down his fruit desert, wiping his hands on the table cloth. 

His concern was valid, as I felt dizzy as soon as I stood up from my chair, a numbness made my legs sway like the dessert I had back in the train cart, jelly. 

"I-I'm fine Beau, come on, let's go." I said, my hands gently taking a hold of his shoulders as I led him to his room. My head swayed, and I found myself leaning on Beau for support instead. My chest heaved up and down, and it felt as though there was a certain weight squeezing my lungs. But it didn't... Hurt?

The sound of footsteps made its way to my eardrums, but before I could move my head to look, a voice followed, and I instantly recognised it as belonging to Finnick. "Beau, what's wrong?" His voice seemed so close, but so far away as I felt him place a warm, reassuring hand on my shoulder.

Whatever Beau replied with, it had caused Finnick to place his other hand on my forehead, his eyes shooting me a concerned look as Finnick muttered something. 

"D-Don't... touch me." I muttered, taking my hands off of Beau's shoulders, which proved to be a bad decision as my legs instantly crumbled underneath me, my bottom landing on the carpeted floor with a loud 'thump'. 

"Ow."

"Come on Y/n, let's get you to bed." Finnick muttered, his voice now right by my ear, his breath fanning over my cheek as he lifted me into the air, moving towards my temporary room.

"Come on Beau." He said, his chin nudging against the top of my head.

"Put me down, F-Finnick. I can... walk-" My breaths became heavier, and it became all the more difficult to speak. My head lolled from left to right, right to left, and so forth, until it finally slumped against Finnick's collarbone, spots of black dancing in my vision as my eyelids drooped. 

I could hear the door to my room sliding open, and soon enough Finnick had placed me on a mattress, unwrapping his arms from my body. But now that I was suddenly so tired and sleepy, I remained latching onto him, having a newfound strength to grip onto his bicep.

"You can't go now.." I muttered, my head swaying lazily to the side as I opened my eyes, though droopily.

A quiet laugh escaped his lips as Finnick shook his head, that beautiful toothy grin gracing his features once more.

"Love, I need to get Beau to his room now, okay? I'll come back, I promise." He muttered, his voice husky and laced with a sweetness only I seemed to experience. My heart fluttered lightly at his words, and with a soft nod, I slowly set Finnick free.

His large hand came down to caress the side of my head, his thumb caressing my cheek lovingly. Was it lovingly though? It may have been forced. Who knows.

"I'll come back, honey." He whispered, and his hand slid down to give my hand a reassuring squeeze, before his touch left me and I was embraced by the chilliness of my room.

The last thing I heard was the sound of the door opening, and Finnick's honeyed voice muttering 'goodnight Y/n', before everything turned black and I fell unconscious.

The cheers and screams of the citizens shrouded me in a haze of puzzlement and anxiety, my thumb and pointer finger twirling and tinkering with the thin, golden bracelet enclosed over the wrist of my dominant hand. 

I wasn't with the other tributes yet, instead, Hazel was still fixing my dress, fluffing it up and ensuring the string of lights attached to the soft fabric was working and had no faults in it. 

'If one light breaks, the rest will not light up.' He had stated, pursing his plump lips again as his eyes narrowed, glaring at the remote switch. 

"As soon as you emerge from the lobby, I want you to flip the switch on, okay?" Hazel asked, his eyebrows raised high, his eyes staring into my soul almost threateningly. 

It was difficult to tell whether he cared about me as a person, or as a tool to reach more fame.

Though as the stylist of numerous tributes in the annual Hunger Games, with vast amounts of success, Hazel had climbed his way to the top and earned respected amongst the best of the best. 

So to be honest, he was probably most concerned about his reputation. 

"Do you remember how to turn the lights on, Y/n?" He asked, his tone gravely and gaze unrelenting. 

Swallowing down a forming lump, I nodded, my eyes unchanging as I refused to let my anxiety show. 

Hazel sighed, seemingly satisfied as he nodded and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. 

"Now stop fiddling with that bracelet, it makes you look nervous. It makes you look weak." Hazel spoke, adding extra emphasis onto 'weak', though his gaze had turned mellow and buttery, his hand patting down my hair. 

He led me to the elevator, a hand placed on my shoulder as we stepped into the metal box.

"I won't be set on fire will I?" I turned to him, gaze worried, my hands clenched into fists as they fell to my sides. 

A warm chuckle escaped his lips, and Hazel shook his head, his features almost unmoving. The corners of his lips had risen slightly though, so I knew he was amused.

"No, these are battery powered, so you'll be okay." He said, pointing to the lights scattered over my dress, glinting under the bright lightbulb above our heads.

I nodded my head in understanding, and turned to face the doors, heart beating wildly in my chest.

The elevator soon came to a stop, and I felt my stomach churning as I heard the machinery whirring above and around us, a sound coming from the doors.

"Now go show them all who's the boss." Hazel spoke softly into my ear, his hands giving my shoulders a soft push as the doors fully opened, and I was greeted by the sight of fifteen other tributes, all coming to a standstill, all heads turning in my direction.

The screams and hollers of the citizens had significantly risen in volume, and I fought hard not to look up in awe, as well as terror.

"Don't let them see that this fazes you honey." Hazel's voice softly muttered, even though he was a good distance away from me to be able to hear. He was carrying the flowy end of my dress, ensuring that the delicate, lavender fabric does not touch the ground ever.

A blue shawl hung from my shoulders, the tips reaching my knees as I strode forward, my face unmoving, chin pointed in the direction of my carriage, although my eyes were scanning over every other tribute present.

Most District partners were already at their carriages, stood on the vehicles as they watched expectantly. Some other tributes and I had certainly taken our time, but time and effort were essential to ensuring we get sponsors.

The boy from District 2 was eyeing me up and down, a scowl present on his face as he turned to his partner, his lips moving animatedly. I think his name was Geralt, or something, and he was just two years younger than me, though possessed a much stronger, much taller figure.

I had watched him carefully during the replay of the reaping, and he never showed any hint of fear, or dread or anxiety. He clutched his District partners, Amelie's, hand proudly, fisting them into the air before the screen had switched.

As I approached my carriage, I looked further ahead, noticing the stocky ginger girl from District 7 looking my way, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. 

I think her name was Ophelia, I think.

It was her body that took me by surprise; she was awfully muscular. And yet, still just as skinny as most tributes present. Maybe less so than those from Districts 8, 10 and 12, but nevertheless, she was intimidating as fuck. 

Her hair was long and thick, some strands had been tied into braids, which flawlessly fell over her shoulders, reaching her hips. She was wearing an ember green dress, which was accentuated with golden lines and swirls, travelling all over the expanse of her body.

"Quit staring." Hazel's voice ripped me out from my thoughts, now much closer as I was aided onto the carriage designated for District 4. For me and Beau. 

"I wasn't staring." I hissed out, fighting hard not to scowl at Hazel's accusation.

Why would I be staring?

I'm supposed to be the star of the show, in his words.

Hazel didn't respond, and instead, looked around, searching for Beau and his styling partner, Melina. I hadn't yet seen the woman, but Beau's eyes sparkled like stars when he described her thick, curly pink hair. 

She had said that she would dress Beau as a young fisherman, to which nobody objected. 

Minutes passed as Hazel and I waited, more tributes filing into the lobby, until finally, Beau, Finnick, Mags and Melina came into view. 

Beau wore a straw hat that seemed way too big for his head, his golden curly locks peeking out slightly under the hat, his dark blue overalls and checkered shirt fitting him adorably. Before I could move an inch, I felt Hazel's sharp gaze on me, and I remained still, wishing to pinch Beau's cheeks. 

"Y/n! You look stunning..." Beau said, his eyes widening in amazement as he looked over my dress, his hands extending as if to feel the fabric. 

Hazel's hand extended out, and he took a tight hold of the boy's hands, shaking his head in disapproval. "You can look, but you can't touch." He said, his tone as sharp as a butcher's knife. 

Beau visibly gulped, nodding his head as he tugged his hand free of Hazel's grasp.

"Hazel! Don't be mean to my little pumpkin over here!" Melina scolded, slapping the man's hand away as she shook her head at him disapprovingly. Hazel furrowed his eyebrows, tutting at her as he ignored her. 

The woman gasped, her pink-dyed eyebrows raised comically as she moved her head to the side like a snake, making her way back into my stylist's view. "You will not be ignoring me, do you hear me?" She asked, waving her pointer finger from side to side in front of his face.

An annoyed groan left Hazel's throat, and at that, Melina laughed, her body shaking animatedly. 

"You're as cute as ever, Hazel dear!" She shouted, smacking his back with the force of a god. 

Just before the man could reply, he was interrupted by an announcement,

"The tributes shall now file out in numerical order, please, give a round of applause to Geralt and Amelie from District 1!" A man's voice shouted over an intercom, followed by loud cheers and hollers from the citizens.

"Come on, Beau. Hop on that cart." Melina said, and wasted no time in grabbing the boy under his armpits, heaving him up next to me.

I turned to Beau, giving the faintest of smiles as the boy gripped the carriage with a newfound anxiety.

My lips opened as I was about to speak, but I was interrupted by an all too familiar baritone of a voice.

"Y/n?" Finnick asked, popping into view at the last second. I looked down at him, not sparing another smile his way as my heart palpitated in my chest. "You look- you look gorgeous." His voice was soft, husky as his eyes gazed at me as if I was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. 

I mentally thanked Hazel for the layers of makeup he had lathered onto my face, as I knew they would hide my blush. What betrayed me though, was the soft 'oh' that I let out.

I'm gonna kick myself for this later.

Just as I was about to utter a 'thank you', our carriage began pulling away, and with one last glance back, I saw an unknown emotion swirling in the green sea of Finnick's irises, as well as the way a soft, toothy grin that made its way onto his face.

"Show them who's boss!" Melina shouted, and just before I fully turned to face the oncoming audience, I saw Finnick and Hazel send me a 'thumbs-up'. 

With a deep breath, I straightened my back, raised my chin, gripped my fists onto the carriage. The horses that pulled us trotted slowly, entering the long stretch of lights, cheers and screams. A sea of colourful bodies welcomed us, and my eyes widened as I remembered the switch.

As if on cue, a man's voice, this time I recognised it to be that of Caesar Flickerman's, boomed through numerous speakers.

"Please, give a round of applause for the Tributes of District 4; Y/n and Beau!" His voice shouted, and I took that as my cue to turn on the switch. Instantly, Beau and I were engulfed in a swirling sea of lights, all twirling around my dress as I felt the back of it flowing in a gentle breeze.

I looked ahead, taking in slow, deep breaths through my nose.

I felt Beau's hand reach for mine, and I looked down to him, casting a soft smile as we held each other's hands, squeezing reassuringly.

"Beau, show them who's the boss." I said softly, and the boy looked at me with a small smile, followed by a nod of his head.

"Show them who's boss, Y/n."

Tags;

@bambikitten @noisyalmonddreamer @avoxrising @honethatty12 @circe143 @dnpo1son @innercreationflower @lagrimasdepandora @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @lil-tracys @i-bitch-you-bitch @pinkigirl @yourdailymemedelivery @nexxus13 @ropickle @spilled-coffee-cup @zucchinimalfoy @l5byrinth @superbfishhumanoidweasel @whens-naptime @nordicvxid @luvrboiwonu @lili19080 @nojustn00 @antoheartit @glowwingrae

the mistake you can't live without (Rex x Reader)

Summary: After spending hours by your side in the med bay, Rex decides that maybe mistakes are meant to be made.

Rex x Jedi Reader (gender neutral), angst with happy ending.

A.N: Got inspired by the song The High Road and since Rex seems to be a source of angst for me, it fit perfectly. This is entirely from Rex's POV.

Warnings: Mentions of injury/hospitalization, self deprecation and questioning ones self worth, mentions/implied steamy situations.

The urge to take hold of your hand was eating him alive.

Kix said nothing when he stood guard at your bed side, just gave him a little smile and nod. Kix knew, but the captain couldn't much care right now. Hours passed and the pain in his chest never ceased, if anything it grew, spread like a poison down to his finger tips. And maker did they itch to touch you, as if his skin on yours was the only way to cure that poison.

Instead he focused on the steady rise and fall of your chest, the assurance that you were breathing- something that wasn't so easy to see when he pulled you from that wreckage. You had felt so small and cold in his arms as he screamed for Kix and he didn't think that memory would be going away any time soon.

It should have been him. It was his job, it was what he was made for!

But he knew what your answer to that would have been: that protecting others was what you were made for, the job the force had laid in your arms. It was one of the reasons he admired the Jedi so, their dedication to life, their fierce protection of the innocent and those who relied on them.

He still should have protected you. What good was he if he couldn't? Just another reason he didn't deserve you. Just another reason he held himself back from taking you in his arms.

And force, did he want to take you.

Every time you stood close to him, so close he could feel your warmth seep through the spaces in his armor. Every time you smiled at him, that smile that made his heart skip around like some child playing in the park. Every time your hand grazed his shoulder, the touch that set his skin on fire in the most delightful way.

Every time you spoke to him in that intimate tone, told him how proud you were to fight beside him, told him he was worth more than he knew, told him you would always be there for him.

He didn't know his heart could soar and shatter at the same time until he met you.

Rex jumped when Kix tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned he had a tray of food shoved onto his lap and Rex looked up at the medic in bewilderment.

Kix winked, "Knew you wouldn't leave the General's side, so I had Echo bring up some food from the mess."

The captain let out a long breath. Maybe he'd been holding it the whole time. He hadn't even realized how many hours had passed of him just sitting there with his eyes on your breathing.

"Thanks," he said and briefly thought about giving him a grateful smile, but realized it would probably just be a grimace.

He forced himself to swallow a few bites, again because he knew what you would say. You would tell him he needed his strength, then when he still resisted you would narrow your eyes and turn it around on him. Tell him he owed it to his men to stay strong and healthy. And you'd be right. You were almost always right.

His eyes couldn't stay away from you though, not even here. He always found it hard not to look at you when you were in the room. As if his gaze could never get its fill of you, as if trying to burn your visage into his mind.

And what a visage you were. That effortless aura of power and control, but still somehow so soft at the edges. Soft enough to laugh when Fives and Hardcase were at it again, soft enough to smile at Echo when he sassed his brothers, soft enough to ask a 'stick in the mud' captain to join the fun.

He always told himself to look away. You didn't deserve to be ogled, didn't deserve to feel his eyes running over every feature that he adored.

Rex was starting to realize that everything he did around you was a mistake. His feelings were a mistake. Even if there was ever a chance that you wouldn't recoil at his feelings, you were a Jedi. Even on the slim chance that you felt the same, you could never love him back.

That didn't stop him from letting little things slide, small acts slip through. His hand brushing yours. Eyes lingering even after you catch him staring. Leaning in just a hair closer than needed. Smiling at nothing more than you being near.

Whispering for you to stay with him between calls for a medic.

Every slip-up big or small was something he should regret.

When had he gotten so comfortable making mistakes? He had never allowed for such sloppy behavior before, he prided himself on his control and meticulous nature. It would seem as though he started to let mistakes slide, so long as they were tied to his feelings for you.

Rex wondered if you even noticed. He wondered if he wanted you to notice. If he ever made you uncomfortable he would never forgive himself. But, as far as he could tell, you were never uncomfortable with him. You always lifted your fingers towards his brushing hand, smiled at his lingering gaze, leaned in to match his closer than needed posture.

Maybe...

He closed his eyes and sighed. This was no time to think about that. Besides, none of that mattered. You were a Jedi. Anything that could ever be between you two would always be a mistake.

Again, Rex had lost track of time. Tup cleared his throat right behind him and only then did he take turn from you again.

"Sorry, Captain, but General Skywalker wants to see you. The Jedi council wants your personal report on what happened."

Rex saw the way his eyes flickered to you, the guilt that flashed across his face for just a moment. Tup had been one of the ones you saved with the force, one of the troopers you had pushed to safety as the building caved in. Tup, Fives, and himself. Just another day in the field, another time they owed their lives to you.

His body felt like it was made if durasteel as he rose. As much as he wanted to stay, wanted to be there when you finally woke up, duty came first.

And that's who he was. Duty. It always had to come first. You knew that, so both of you knew that any feelings between you two didn't matter in the end.

Duty came first, and anything else would be a mistake.

Rex hadn't been by your side when you woke. Anakin had ordered him to get some sleep the moment he was done debriefing the council. There were only a few times that he had wanted to defy orders, and that was one of them. In the end though, he knew his general was right, and of course, just like his eating, he knew you'd insist on it too.

Not that much sleep came to him. Every time he closed his eyes he saw your body in the midst of that rubble. Blood covered and as still as a corpse. Rex had seen too many of his brothers like that to not fear the worst as they dug you out.

He laid awake with nothing but his thoughts and in the end fate had kicked him again; he hadn't been there when you woke. Kix insisted that you were fine, well on the mend, nothing a few hours in a bacta tank couldn't solve.

Rex had to ignore the ringing in his ears as you explained that you managed to mitigate the worst of the impact with the force, cocooning yourself with it until the sheer weight was too much.

All in all, you were fine. All things considered it had turned out better than anyone could have hoped.

That didn't stop Rex from collapsing in the first dark hallway he found. His stomach heaving up bile in place of the food that wasn't there. He had kept such a tight hold on his grief and worry that, when it was rapidly replaced with relief, his body couldn't take it anymore.

You were okay! You were safe! You were alive!

His eyes watered when the dry heaving reached its peak, but he was able to get his breathing under control eventually.

How could relief cause such an effect on his body, even when it was relief over you? He pressed his forehead to the wall, the cool durasteel soothing him. Maybe he just need sleep, or food, or both. Maybe it was all just a combination that made his composure snap.

In the end all that mattered was that you were okay. He could live with himself so long as he knew that you hadn't died because of his mistakes. And of course, all he told you was that he was glad you were safe, because anything more would be an even bigger mistake.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed that fate, or the force, or some maker who hated him had other plans.

He had been in the gym, practicing his forms when the news came. Dressed in nothing but shorts and a black top, he had already worked up quite a sweat when Kix and Jesse wandered in. They were also dressed in training clothes and Kix was wearing an amused smirk as he talked.

Usually he wouldn't pay them any mind, but Rex paused when he heard your name and 'injury' in the same sentence. Wheeling around in an instant he called out, marching towards the men and all but demanding to hear what they had just said.

Kix straightened up, seeming taken aback for a moment, "Uh, was just joking that I should have a frequent visitor program, the General was in for another injury just now."

"What!?"

Kix and Jesse shared a quick look before Kix mentioned that you were in your quarters resting and- and Rex didn't know what else he had said because he was out the door in an instant.

Perhaps he looked like a mad man as he ran down the halls, but that was the furthest from his mind. It hadn't even been a week since you fully healed from getting near crushed to death and you were injured again? He didn't think he heart could take this, this constant cycle of aching worry and blinding relief. Especially since he knew that someday, that relief may never come.

He bypassed the keypad by your door all together, electing to pound his fist against the durasteel instead. If it wasn't locked he would have opened it without a word.

A call of your name died in his throat as the door hissed open, your eye wide the second they met his.

"Rex, what-!"

"Are you okay?" he closed the small distance between you two in an instant and the door slid shut behind him, "Kix said you were hurt again, I- what happened?" his hands were hovering over your arms, needing to touch, to hold, but afraid of hurting more. "Was it your last injuries? Were there complications-"

You held up your hands, shushing him gently, "Rex, Rex, I'm fine. I was training with Anakin and Obi-wan, and Obi just managed to nick my hand." You waved the bandaged palm, "Bacta patch is taking care of it as we speak."

Without thinking, he took your hand in his, gazing at the wrapping as he felt that blinding relief again. Just a scratch, just a little burn, it was nothing. So why did he feel so sick again? His fingers were stroking your palm an effort to ground his reeling thoughts as he felt the urge to tuck it against his chest.

He flinched when he felt your other hand brush his cheek

"Rex, you're shaking." It was a whisper, as intimate as the closeness of your bodies. "What's wrong?

He finally broke his gaze away from your injured palm to meet your eyes. What a mistake. Those eyes were so full of worry, a silent plea to confide in you, to let you in. You were right, he was shaking, and his heart was pounding in his chest violently. He should be calming down now, now that he knew it was nothing, that you were fine, that you were safe.

Instead, all he wanted to do was envelop you in his arms and beg you to never worry him again. Wanted to bury his face in your neck and tell you every little want and need in his heart.

The hand that was clasped in his started stroking his knuckles. "Rex, pleas-"

"I can't do this any more," he whispered, before dropping your hand, cupping your face, and pulling your lips hard against his.

He knew he shouldn't, knew it was a mistake, but he just couldn't take it, not now, not anymore! The hands holding your cheeks must have been rough against your soft skin, because he heard you moan into his mouth.

It was only then that Rex pull back, ashamed, " 'm sorry," he whispered as he began to step away, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry."

But your hands gripped his shirt tight, yanked him back against you.

"Don't you dare," your words were breathless as you cupped the back of his neck, "don't you dare stop kissing me, Captain," and your lips were back on his, all passion and desperate desire. Just as his had been.

It was his turn to moan into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you, making sure every centimeter of your bodies were pressed against each other. All he could think of was the way you moved against him, the way one hand slid down to grip his arm while the other moved to grip what little length his hair had.

But it didn't take long for reason to seep in.

When you pulled back for air his mind cleared just long enough for him to say, "We shouldn't, we shouldn't be doing this."

"Why?" was your only panting response.

He shook his head, and since he couldn't bare that look in your eyes, he closed his and pressed his forehead to yours. "I have no right. No right to impose my feelings on you, you're a Jedi-"

"I don't care," that was practically a growl as pulled back, making him look you in the eyes again. "I don't give a damn anymore. Rex, I love you, and now that I know you feel the same, I don't care what the Jedi say." You moved then, pressing his back against the cold metal of the wall. Then, placing a hand over his heart you said, "This can't possibly be wrong, Rex, I know it, I feel it." Next your hands were cupping his face, just as his had done when he first pulled you in. "Rex, do you want me?"

His answer was quick, as easy as breathing. "More than anything."

"Then don't stop kissing me."

He was a man who followed orders, and said nothing else as he leaned into your waiting lips. He wasn't holding back this time. The captain relished the whimper you let out when his tongue slipped passed your lips, eating it up, wanting more.

If you didn't care, then he couldn't find it in him to care either, not now, not here with all his dreams coming true. Mistake or not, it was yours and his to make, here, now, together.

Your robe found its way to the floor when he started backing you up towards your bed. He would spend hours giving you the worshiping attention you deserved, devote night after night to fulfilling any desire you wanted. If this was still a mistake, if he was a mistake, than damn it, he would make damn sure he was a worth while one.

Anything you wanted was yours, he swore it. Anything that was in his power to give was yours for the taking. He would make himself the mistake you couldn't live without.

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

501st x F!Jedi!Reader General Skywalker clearly wasn't a reliable source of intell, having pointed you and Rex's squad into the icy tumbra of a long deserted planet, however, it was due to his calculated mistake that the Clones were able to reveal your deeply hidden desires. Being stuck in a cave with numerous handsome, attractive men was not on your to-do list, yet you weren't complaining. Word Count: 3028

Warnings: Unedited, random brain rainbow vomit I had whilst practicing writing techniques <3 It's somewhat (quite) spicy towards the end. There is a lot of fluff throughout most of it! A/N: This is mostly just Tup, Rex and Fives x reader as this was a very spontaneous fic T_T pls forgive me.

"General Skywalker said this would be an easy mission," Fives hissed under his breath, the deep, reverbrating sound of his voice lost underneath the wolfish howling of the wind, clusters of snow beating at his helmet. This was supposed to be a quick and easy diplomatic trip, but where did he and the 501st Legion find themselves? Somewhere on a deserted, icy, snowy planet. "My toes are about to fall off!"

"Yeah, he promised us there'd be clear blue skies and hot weather. A beach even!" Echo added on, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. Rather than being on a hot, sandy beach, the brothers had found themselves treading through waist-deep snow, their fingers and toes turning into icicles, their blasters heavy in their grasps. 

"I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic trip, Captain," Fives continued, his voice becoming white noise as Rex all but ignored his brother, gracing him with an occasional hum or grunt, to let him know he was listening. But he wasn't hearing. Rex was also unhappy with the circumstances, but it was his job to do this kind of thing. It's not like the clones could refuse not going on a mission, not going head-first into a battle, so he definitely would have appreciated General Skywalker's honesty, over trickery. 

The weather was only getting worse, the wind and snow beating at the men cruelly, the blue paint on their armour completely disappeared under the clusters of snow that had latched themselves onto the clones. 

He paused in his tracks, scanning the area through his optical goggles. He spotted something. Something dark, something round. His men stopped behind him, eerily silent as they anticipated their Captain's next words. 

Rex, turning to face his brothers, couldn't help the way his shoulders visibly relaxed as he relayed the news, "I see a cave entrance just a couple yards ahead, boys! We will seek shelter there!" He exclaimed, waving his arm, signalling for them to keep going, to keep following him. 

In the very back, just behind Tup and Jesse, a lone, female Jedi guarded their backs, one hand hovering protectively over her weapon, the other shielded away in the pocket of her coat. A backpack hung onto her shoulders, the leather material soaked and cold, receiving most of the onslaught of the weather. 

Her mind was wandering, body craving to feel the heat of a hot sun glazing against her bare skin, just as Anakin had hinted to. But instead, she was stuck walking through a blizzard, her body cold and tired.

She had also been excited to spend some quality time with the boys from the 501st, whom she had been recently often paired with for missions. The sight of them all relaxing and enjoying their time on the beach, with their tops exposed, tan skin glistening under the sunlight.. Yeah, that would have been a sight worth seeing.

A sudden, much harsher gust of wind jolted her from her thoughts, clumps of snow quickly settling against the icy skin on her face. 

Her robes, too, were soaked, struggling to maintain the warmth in her body as she did her best to follow the path created by the clones, snow crunching under her winter boots. 

She too wasn't made aware of the true conditions of the mission. She couldn't tap into the force either, to predict or to feel some kind of warning of the mission ahead. What was Skywalker thinking? He was lucky none of her men had fallen! The moment she'd get back, the moment her eyes would land on him, he would be wise to run for the hills. She could imagine the fear in his eyes as she comically choked him out, swaying the male back and forth in a fit of anger.

Relief flooded the squad as one by one, they made their way into the cave, it being cleared by their Captain and medic, Rex and Kix. 

Quickly setting camp, the clones hovered around their makeshift fire, some huddled close together, others snuggling under individual, soaked blankets. The snow had penetrated all of their supplies; food, water, tents and blankets. All they could do was hope that the fire would last long enough for the storm to pass, for their blankets to dry out and warm up. 

"What the hell was the General thinking?" Fives muttered, his eyebrows furrowed. He rubbed his bare hands together until they were warm enough, and then he shifted closer to the fire. 

His feet stung, the feeling just barely coming back to him after that gruelling tread. He was sure if his feet didn't fall off yet, then something else soon would. 

You exhaled a heavy sigh, a blanket resting over your shoulders as you extended your palms out towards the fire. Rex had been kind enough to lend you his blanket, noticing that your robes and skirt were practically drenched from the weather. Sure, you weren't dressed for the beach, but you also weren't dressed well enough for a blizzard. 

You were lucky to have been warned, or rather told, by Master Kenobi of the true conditions of your mission. If you hadn't been, your troops wouldn't have had enough time to prepare for the weather. 

Looking over your squad, you made eye contact with Tup. A worried frown ghosted over his rough features, the creases that you hated so much appearing on his forehead. 

Slowly, you made your way over to the trooper, one hand outstretched.

"Tup? Are you okay?" You asked, resting your hand over his shoulder. As if startled, the man looked to you, his brows quirked in surprise. 

"G-General? Why do you ask?" He questioned, gaze flickering down to your hand, before coming back up to stare into your eyes. A soft, pink hue dusted over his cheeks, and your heart fluttered at the sight. Sure, he was sweet and kind, he was the shyest of your men. He was almost like a puppy, his chocolatey brown eyes so deep, so sweet, you had lost yourself in them again. 

He was the only man who gazed into your eyes long enough for you to drown, a soft smile erupting on your face as you fought your best to not reach up and caress his cheek in your palm. 

"General? Are you listening?" He asked, his gloved hands reaching up to shake at your shoulders, gently. 

Your lashes fluttered over your eyes, taking in a deep exhale, you shrugged. Were you really okay? 

Taking a moment to respond, your gaze flickered up, noticing how wet his hair was. 

"Tup, d'you want me to dry your hair?" The words tumbled from your mouth before your brain could finish processing their meaning. Tup's eyes widened into saucers as he stood there, frozen. You had never been so caring to your men, at least, not like this. 

Remember that pink hue that dusted his cheeks just a moment ago? Yeah, now that's turned into a beetroot blush, the colour painting his ears, his face and neck in a deep shade of reddish-purple. Would it be okay for you to display such blatant acts of affection? Wouldn't that be against the rules and regulations of the Jedi council? Against the regulations of the GAR? If so, would his brothers snitch?

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to-" You started, your mouth quickly dropping into the shape of an 'o' as Tup interrupted you.

"General, I would love for you to dry my hair." He said with a soft smile, scratching at the back of his nape.

Realising it was too late now to back out, you gave a small nod of your head before taking his gloved hand in yours, the leathery material scraping nicely against your soft skin, as you led him closer to the campfire. 

Motioning for Tup to sit down, you stood directly behind, and, above him, reaching to remove your dry blanket from your shoulders. You didn't have a towel, so a blanket should be a good enough substitute. Your hands reached to remove his hairtie, sliding it over your hand to rest on your wrist, your fingers quickly making their way to masssage Tup's scalp. 

As he leaned his head back into your soft hold, Tup couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped his lips. Your fingernails grazed softly against his skin, tugging gently at his soft curls, sending eletric shivers down the male's spine. 

But it was when your hands slid from his scalp, over to his nape and shoulders, applying soft but firm pressure against his tired muscles that the involuntary groan escaped his lips, rumbling deep from within his chest. 

Your body stiffened, stopping your ministrations as a familiar spark shot through your heart, right down to your abdomen. 

Your eyes, wide and unblinking, stared into Tup's as the colour red flushed his cheeks once more. His eyes searched yours, a worried glint dancing across as he waited for your reaction. His lips stuttered as he was about to apologise, provide an excuse, tell you it was okay if you didn't want to continue. 

But the words fell short on his tongue as the corners of your lips tugged upwards, your hands applying the slightest bit more pressure to his sore muscles. 

A grunt was stiffled in his throat, his eye fighting hard to stay open, looking anywhere but at your face. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, give you the wrong idea-

None of his brothers did. 

Though a lump formed in his throat as Tup looked around the cave, noticing the numerous lingering gazes of his brothers as they sat there, watching your movements. He could almost feel the jealousy vibrating off of Rex in waves, his gaze hardened as the corners of his lips fought to stay straight. 

A smirk tugged at Tup's lips, as he noticed Jesse squint his eyes at him. Deciding to add fuel to the fire, Tup groaned again when your hands pressed against a particularly tense muscle in his shoulder. 

"Woah, General, where did you learn this?" He asked, a familiar warmth blooming in his abdomen as your nimble fingers danced across his shoulders, tugging at the black suit he wore, exposed now as his armour rested beside a sleeping bag nearby. 

"Oh, you know, just learned bits here and there when I was stationed with Commander Wolffe," You chuckled, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue, "That man was full of knots in his shoulders." You added, feeling Tup's shoulders relax more and more, until you had mentioned Wolffe. That's when his posture straightened, from a relaxed lean, to a pin-straight sitting up position. 

He tilted his head back to look at you, a curious yet worried glint in his golden eyes.

"Were you and Commander Wolffe close, by any chance?" He questioned, his breathing paused. 

If you were Wolffe's girl, then he knew the 501st couldn't, wouldn't pursue you. 

Or, if you weren't, then they knew at least they could ask the Commander of his previous.. Experiences, with you. 

Slowly, you caught onto Tup's drift, and your gaze travelled around the room. Some of the men were fully facing the two of you, legs spread, eyes laser-focused as they listened to your conversation, the cave suddenly, and eerily silent.

A shiver travelled down your spine, and a gentle smirk tugged at your lips.

"Oh, just you know, the occasional date here and there.." You said, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. Your smirk threatened to grow as you heard someone scoff, and you looked up to see Rex rolling his shoulders, a scowl on his face.

"Date? Isn't that, like, forbidden?" Fives questioned across from you, leaning over curiously, his eyebrows raised, resembling the blue markings on his helmet. 

A giggle escaped your lips as your hands returned to Tup's hair, suddenly remembering why you were giving him a random shoulder massage. You reached over to grab the blanket Rex had given you, placing soft curls between the two valleys of softness created by your hands, which were hidden underneath the soft cushion.

Your hands brushed through Tup's soft hair, gently dragging the strands through the dry, fuzzy material of your blanket. 

"I don't mean a romantic date, Fives, though I wouldn't be opposed to one." You mused, softly tugging at the locks. "I don't particulaly agree with the 'No Attachments' rule. But that doesn't make me less of a Jedi, or does it, do you think?" You questioned, your gaze softening, a small scowl now tugging at your lips. 

"Of course not, General," This time, it was Rex who spoke up, albeit too fast for his liking, "You're one of the most dedicated Jedi I've had the pleasure of working with," He stated, soft footsteps making their way closer and closer to you, "Plus, it is human to wish to form attachments." He whispered that last part, now standing directly above you as you twisted Tup's hair into the towel.

Your heart fluttered at the proximity, warmth enveloping your pinkening cheeks.

"Is it now, Rex?" You asked, looking up at him. Your heart palpitated at the close proximity, your hands gliding down to caress Tup's shoulders. Your gaze stayed unwavering, unbreaking as you looked into Rex's deep, honey-gold eyes. The Captain suddenly shifted, breaking eye contact as he stepped back a little. 

"I-I believe any of us s-should be able to form attachments," He paused, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, and back to your eyes, "Romantic ones, especially." A chorus of 'Yeah's' and humms of agreement followed, catching your attention as you looked around.

The atmosphere in the cave seemed to have completely shifted, the sound of howling wind drowned out underneath the loud beat of your heart. You swallowed a forming lump, looking between Rex and his brothers, Tup now stood by your side, sandwiching your body between his and Rex's. 

Gloved hands came up to softly caress your shoulders, fingertips lightly tugging at the edge of your collar, grazing the skin underneath. 

"What do you think, Commander?" He whispered into your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin.

"Of?" You prompted, turning your head lightly to look at Tup. 

"Of close relations between Jedi and their Clones?"

Your eyes widened, feeling a familiar heat rush over your body, and you took inhaled a slow, deep, shaky breath. As you looked between Tup and Rex, the latter had made his way closer to your body, his hands making their way to your hips.

The sound of soft footsteps reached your ears, and you saw Echo, Fives, Jesse, Kix, Dogma and Hardcase making their way closer to the three of you, looking completely entranced by the conversation. You hadn't casted any spells on them, have you?

Your breath hitched in your throat, shivers overtaking your body as someone nuzzled their nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, exhaling with a shaky sigh. As they spoke, your heart fluttered with recognition. 

"General, answer the question." Fives whispered, his voice gravelly and deep, one gloved hand gently grasping your chin, twisting it to face him. His gaze flickered to your lips,  just mere inches from his own. He could almost feel the taste of you on his tongue. Oh how he wished to kiss you, right then and there. He was so sure you'd let him, too.

Sure, maybe you did fantasise about the men from time to time, when your thoughts weren't preoccupied by ongoing battles and Jedi duties. How you wished to be allowed to form a connection deeper than General and Trooper, but did they?

"I- I.. I don't k-know?" You questioned, a soft whimper escaping your opened mouth, before you knew it, his lips crashed against yours, his hands latching themselves into your hair, pulling you closer, if physically possible.

The kiss was, to simply put it, sweet. His goatee rubbed nicely against your chin, his lips melting together with yours, as if they were always meant to. His tongue prodded at your bottom lip, asking for permission. Slipping in, it danced with yours, hot breaths mingling together as you felt something press up against your front.

Rex.

You had almost forgotten you were trapped between Rex and Tup, too engulfed with the sudden kiss Fives had engaged you in.

The smell of pine and smoke invaded your nostrils, their scents overwhelming, flooding your senses as Fives became rougher, his hands tugging at the roots of your hair. With one hand, you grasped the side of his face, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his rough skin, your breath hitched as a groan escaped his lips.

"Okay, that's enough I think." Kix spoke, the kiss abruptly interrupted as he pulled Fives away by the scruff of his neck. 

"General? Are you okay?" Rex's voice was soft as he neared you, his breath fanning over the sensitive shell of your ear. 

Inhaling a shallow breath, you grasped his biceps with both hands.

"Call me Y/n.." You whispered, hazily meeting Rex's stare, his eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

"R-Right.. Y/n, d'you want us to continue?" He questioned, bringing a hand to gently clutch your chin. 

Your eyes widened as you took in the situation around you; eight men surrounded you, watching. Waiting. Ready to pounce, the moment they received your permission. 

And receive it, they did.

With a brisk nod, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut as Rex closed the gap between the two of you, his lips rough but warm as his body pushed roughly against yours, your back meeting Tup's chest in a close embrace. 

Your hands rested against Rex's chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt underneath your thumbs. His chest was warm and firm under your touch, the feeling of his heart racing beneath your hand had your own chest swelling with joy. A sigh left your lips as you felt a pair of lips press open-mouthed kisses against the expanse of your neck, a new pair of hands rubbing up and down your hips, encouraging you.

You weren't dreaming, were you? You weren't about to wake up, were you?

Your questions were answered as you felt Rex bite your bottom lip, his hands tugging at the roots of your hair.

No, this definitely wasn't a dream.

And if it was, it wasn't one you wished to wake from.

im that "look at the moon!" and "omg its raining!" girl