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literallyjustanerd · 9 months

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Twist The Knife To Keep The Scar (Fives & Echo, grief/mourning)

Rex is leaning over his cot, face drawn into a gaunt mask. He knows what Echo will ask. Echo thinks he knows the answer. He asks anyway.

“Rex… where’s Fives?”

In their own ways, both Fives and Echo experience outliving the other. But in the end, it's Echo who has to find a way to live on in a galaxy with half of himself missing. A galaxy that, despite his brother's best efforts, Echo sometimes wishes he hadn't survived to see.

Back on my bullshit ruminating about Fives and Echo never getting to see each other again!

Dividers by the incredible @freesia-writes with amazing helmet art by @lornaka

General vibe: Grief, angst, dissociation, recovery, found family

Words: 4,888

Characters: Fives, Echo, Rex, Tup, Omega, The Bad Batch (mentioned)

Read it here or support me on AO3.

There's an exquisite heat in the air around him. Then a harsh, biting cold. A blinding light, then suffocating darkness. The ecstacy of adrenaline thrumming in his veins, then blood-curdling terror choking him until he cannot even scream. Hope, then despair. Peace, then pandemonium. Repeating in an endless cycle so maddening he wants to split his own skull open to quiet the furore.

And then, he's awake.

He comes back fighting from the void. Lurching, crying out, violent and reckless on instinct and little else. He wrenches at what’s left of his limbs, dismayed when they flail freely, unbound by the tethers and wires he’d grown so used to. It’s bright. He cowers from the light, though can’t think to shield his eyes with his one remaining hand. It’s an eternity before a voice reaches him through the ringing in his ears. The voice of a brother. It changes, alternating between speaking calm words and barking sharp orders. The familiarity is enough to break through Echo’s hysteria. He stills, holds back his own cries to try and make out the words. In time, his bleary vision begins to take in the sight around him, foggy shapes coalescing into a silhouette, then a face. It’s Kix.

It’s Kix. His brother Kix.

He stands in a halo of fluorescent light at the head of Echo’s cot, calling brisk instructions to the other medics. At his order, the lights dim, soothing the ache in Echo’s eyes. He lays a hand on Echo’s shoulder, firm and grounding, and sternly tells him not to try and move. It’s then that he realises that there are lines attached to him. A great deal, in fact. IV tubes snake from his wrist and the crook in his elbow. There’s a port below his ribs syphoning some sort of clear-pink fluid, and wires running to electrodes arranged in a grid on his chest. He listens when Kix tells him they're all there for good reason. He believes it when Kix tells him he’s safe, they’ve got him, he’s okay. Someone raises a cup of water to his lips, and though Echo nearly chokes on the tiny sip, it still makes him want to sob with relief. By his head, Kix makes an adjustment on one of his IV flasks. He doesn’t raise his eyes when he says,

“Someone find Rex. Tell him he’s awake.”

Memory floods back into the broken kaleidoscope of Echo’s mind.

“Where is he?”

Rex hadn’t answered him the first time he’d asked, careening down hallways and around corners, still half-convinced he must be dreaming or dead. He had tried to convince himself that Rex was just distracted. That maybe he hadn’t even heard the question at all, despite it being one of the first things past Echo’s lips the moment he regained control of them. It was plausible: the blaster fire was loud enough and the chaos was all but overwhelming. But even in his addled, delirious state, he had caught the twitch in Rex’s jaw, the guilty way his eyes darted across the room, cagey, avoidant. Everything Rex never was. Echo had not asked again, had instead put the last of his meagre energy into clawing his way out of hell. And, despite his expectations, he’d made it. They all had. He had seen the sun again. He hadn’t lasted much longer than that– his atrophy and fatigue had come back to claim him once he’d been loaded into a transport. Still, the question remained stuck on his tongue as he passed out, not quite able to speak it aloud. He does it now, though, when Kix has cleared out the medbay and Rex is leaning over his cot, face drawn into a gaunt mask. He knows what Echo will ask. Echo thinks he knows the answer. He asks anyway.

“Rex… where’s Fives?”

Three standard rotations. Nine Republic-sanctioned mealtimes since making it off Lola Sayu and out of the Force-forsaken Citadel. And still, Fives has made no appearance in the mess hall. Rex suppresses a sigh at the empty seat next to him, tries to still the bounce of his leg under the table. He gives up on his rations halfway through, sliding them across the table to Jesse as, wordless, he leaves the rows of bustling benches. It’s not easy to track him down. He checks the gym, the boilers, the bridge, even the laundry rooms before he comes to the cold, cramped halls of the armoury. It’s all but abandoned, only a handful of troopers choosing to skip or postpone their meal break. Rex weaves through the tight corridors of catalogued rifles and torpedoes, affording a distracted nod to the men who greet him with the usual salutes. Finally, he spots his brother in the back corner. He's counting stock, eyes boring into a datapad as though it's the only thing tethering him to himself.

"Fives.”

It gets no response at first. He’s far too wilfully engrossed in his task. Just as he has been in every spare moment since leaving The Citadel. Rex has watched him move like a man possessed from hauling cargo to running maintenance protocols, reviewing battle maps to making supply orders. More productive in three rotations than he’d ever been in a week. If he’d eaten, Rex hadn’t seen it. If he’d slept, it hadn’t stuck, judging by the dark, gaunt circles draped under his eyes. They age him, make his cheeks look too sharp and his skin too pallid under the ship's stark lighting. The half-serving of rations churns in Rex’s stomach.

“Fives, look at me.”

There’s a hand on Fives’ shoulder, one he throws harshly off like a man woken from a nightmare. He blinks at his brother, unable or unwilling to focus his gaze.

“Don’t,” he says, before he knows quite what he’s refusing. Self-consciousness leeches into his fingertips, tightening around the datapad. It’s too much to keep his face turned in Rex’s direction, so he points it back at the wall.

“You know you can’t go on like this. You’re running yourself into the ground,” Rex coaxes. A hot rush of shame burns across the back of Fives’ neck, his shoulders raising against it. He’s being spoken to like a scared stray tooka. Like a cadet with a skinned knee. Given the choice, Fives picks the easier of two options and lets anger steer his reply.

“I know what I’m kriffing doing. Don’t need you checking up on me.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t get a choice in the matter.”

The growl Fives gives in response is involuntary. His fingers grip harder at the datapad. A sign of losing control? A sign of trying to keep control? Just because he itches to feel something break under his hands? After waiting patiently for a reply of some kind, Rex fills the silence again.

"I'm not trying to tell you to stop caring. I know that's how it feels, but I'm not. I just want you to take care of yourself, too."

"And what's the point of that?!" Fives blurts. The datapad clatters across the floor, the sound louder than it should be, echoing and doubling off the towering metal walls. "What does it even matter anymore if he—" As quickly as the dam breaks, he stems the flow. Straightens his back and swallows the words back down, bitter as they stick in his throat. The seconds scrape by, sandpaper against his frayed mind. His teeth grit, eyes closed. He waits. But Rex stays silent. No more platitudes, no stern, parental reminders about health and self-care. In time, Fives is seized by the fear that Rex has grown tired of his tantrum and left. But when he turns away from the wall, his brother is there, his gaze steady, open. Waiting.

"I… It was supposed to be… It was always …"

Try as he might, the thought won't make it out of his head in full, ending up in pieces by the time it tumbles past his proud, clumsy lips.

"Always the two of you," Rex finishes for him. "Right from the start, I know. We all knew." Rex's mouth quirks, his eyes dipping downwards a moment. Fives wonders what memory it is that drives the expression. While he is still caught in a losing battle against his own voice, Rex continues, holding the silence at bay. "You know, back after the invasion on Kamino, Cody and I wanted to take one of you each? We both needed a new ARC trooper. It seemed perfect." He steps forward, turning to lean against the wall next to Fives. No resistance this time when a hand braces on Fives' shoulder. There's a lump in Fives' throat that is hard to swallow around. Rex continues. "But when we got one look at the two of you together, the way you were with each other… Well." The quirk in Rex's lip grows to a smile, small and fragile. "Cody and I never managed to stay together long. We were always pulled apart. We couldn't let the same happen to you."

A dry, guttural sob bursts from Fives' chest, breaking through the barrier of his clenched teeth. The words follow before he can stop them.

"It should have been me."

The reprimand he expects does not come. Instead, Rex keeps his gaze on Fives, as resigned as it is devastated. There's a soft understanding in the way he breathes; slowly in, heavily out. Underneath all his composure, it becomes clear just how intimately Rex knows this feeling. How many times Fives’ words have crossed his own mind after returning from battle. Fives lets go. Finally cuts the string he had tied to the top of his head to hold himself off the ground. The plastoid of Rex's shoulder pauldron hurts when Fives' forehead hits it. He relishes the pain.

Goosebumps break out across Echo’s skin when he steps into the rain. He gasps at the little pinpricks of cold, radio static dancing in the gaps of his armour. The sensation is not unpleasant, just another that he had long since given up on ever feeling again. Mercifully, the perpetual storm over Kamino has momentarily ebbed; Echo would not trust himself to stay upright on his cybernetics in a full typhoon. Walking is still entirely alien to him. He knows he must look a mess, unsteady and teetering, each step a lurching fall forward with the hope that the sordid mess of durasteel beneath him will catch his weight. Hunter stands a few feet ahead of him, and he’s flanked by the other members of Clone Force 99 as they disembark. Though they form up around him, clearly ready to act as a buffer if one of Echo’s gambled steps doesn’t pay off, they say nothing, only watching from the corners of their eyes. Affording him his pride. Preserving the illusion of normalcy.

They needn't bother. Under Echo's carefully-drawn expression there is a storm as vicious and brutal as the worst of Kamino’s tempests.

Kamino has changed since the last time he had walked its sleek, streamlined halls. It feels cleaner, smoothed over, more soulless than usual. Was it always so cold here, even inside? Beside him, two of his new squad are bickering. Though only a few feet away, their voices reach Echo from a distance, muffled, underwater. He feels thin. Not just malnourished, though he evidently is. His whole existence feels thin, as though he isn’t actually there. Someone could walk straight through him and feel nothing more than a cool breeze. A fleeting pang of regret tells him he should be with Rex, should have stayed with the 501st. But beneath the crashing waves on the surface, in the depths of his mind he knows that it’s better to be a stranger than to face those who know him, what he was and who he’s lost. What he’s become. Rex could feel it, too, when he had seen Echo off on the landing field.

“If that’s where you feel your place is, then that’s where you belong.”

Was it about belonging? Or was it just that he couldn’t bear to stand so close to the edge of the gaping hole that had been left in his life?

The only time Echo had ever talked about this with Fives, he had been shut down with a single look. A thousand words in a microscopic expression, the silent language they’d forged together accidentally through years of traded glances. Across battlefields and barracks, strategy meetings and mess hall benches, until they knew the other’s mind by instinct, sometimes better than they knew their own.

“When,” Fives had said, with the weight of the galaxy behind the word. A shield raised against the knife of Echo’s ‘if.’

“When we both make it to the end of the war, we’re going to Naboo first. General Skywalker talks about it all the time. It must be worth the hype.”

Maybe Echo should have pushed it. Doubled down on his ‘if’ and done something, said something to prepare them for having to keep breathing after the other was gone. They had never dared to say aloud that their plans for a galaxy-wide sightseeing tour could grind to a halt in a single heartbeat. For years they had curated their list of destinations, sights to see, cities to explore, foods to taste and cultures to learn, everything they had always been denied. Neither wanted to be the first to say their grand adventure might never happen. Or, worse, that it could be a solo trip. Echo opened his mouth. But the minute twitch in Fives’ brow told him all he needed to know: he was picking at a thread that could unravel them both. Once one of them was gone, the other would surely die in every meaningful way. There was no point in even acknowledging the possibility. So instead, he lobbed a wadded-up piece of dirty laundry at Fives’ head and smiled.

“Fine. Naboo first. But I still want to see the museums in Alderaan. Don’t care if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

Beside Echo, the muted conversation grows louder. Words repeated. Someone trying to get his attention. One of them, the big one, Wrecker, slaps him on the back. It jars the rivets along his shoulder blades, sending sharp bolts of pain through his spine as he’s thrown forward by the force. It’s too fast for his cumbersome legs to catch him, and in a split second Echo has accepted he’s going to hit the floor. But the impact doesn’t come, and he opens his eyes to find a shamefaced Wrecker holding him aloft with one arm looped under his chest.

“I– Sorry, Echo, I didn’t mean to– Should’ve been more careful,” he stammers, returning him to his feet as though he weighed less than empty armour. The shock brings Echo crashing back into his body, makes him feel real again in a way he is woefully unready for. The others are staring at him, their eyes singing like blasterfire on his skin. It takes an embarrassingly long moment to will his mouth into moving.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, unable to meet anyone’s eye. “I’m fine.”

He wonders if it’s better to be stranded in a vast, flat desert than to stand at the edge of a bottomless pit.

It’s after Umbara that Rex overhears Fives with Tup. Lights-out was hours ago. They’re out of the barracks, but Rex can hardly reprimand them for it: half of the men, himself included, have had scarcely little sleep since what happened on that wretched, awful planet. All over the ship there are small groups of vode, hunched over mugs of caf at tables in the kitchen, crammed into bunks together, running endless drills in the gym. Rex despairs at being unable to do more for them, but he knows better than most that nothing could grant his brothers rest or peace in a time like this. Still, something in Fives’ tone tugs him closer, makes him linger around the corner and strain his ears to listen.

“–not about glory or heroics.”

“But what about what you–”

“Forget what I did. Okay? What I did doesn’t matter. I’m telling you , here and now, you stay alive.”

They’re sitting on the ledge of a large bay window, faces backlit by the ship’s external lighting and the low ambient glow of hyperspace outside. Tup has his legs drawn to his chest, a steaming mug cradled in his hands, while Fives leans forward, elbows on his knees. Rex knows he should make himself known. Or at the very least walk away now. It’s not his place to eavesdrop.

He doesn’t move.

It was a different version of Fives that came back from losing Echo. Sharper edges, harder, but more brittle. Scar tissue where there used to be unmarred skin. He still jokes, even still plays pranks and pulls stunts to entertain those around him. But his laughter is never quite as free or unguarded. His eyes scan every room he enters, searching, never finding. And most noticeably, he’s developed an intense protective streak over his brothers. Especially the shinies.

“I just want to fight for our brothers. Like you and the others have been.” Tup sounds chastised, confused. Still so sincere. Rex chances another glance around the corner to see Fives topping up his brother’s mug from a small flask before he takes a swig himself. Another breach of regulation Rex can’t rightly fault him for.

“You want to do something good for your brothers?” Fives says, voice low. “You survive the war. You stay around for them. You live to see a day we’re not forced to risk our lives for people who don’t karking care, don’t even know we exist .”

Rex doesn’t realise just how much of a hypocrite Fives has become until months later. Until he’s holding Fives to his chest on the floor of a derelict warehouse, the smell of blasterfire and burnt flesh thick in the air.

Losing Echo has made a hypocrite of Fives. As fiercely as he protected his brothers, as many times as he told them not to be heroes, he never reserved the same caution for himself. In fact, he launched himself headlong into more perilous situations than he ever had with Echo. He hid it under his status: an ARC trooper was supposed to be a more independent agent, a knife to make the daring precision cuts, carving a path for the battering ram of his fellow troopers. Still, Rex worries what the real motivation behind his recklessness might be.

“...Okay,” Tup says finally. But Fives still says it again.

“Just stay alive. Kark the war, kark the Republic, just… stay alive .”

An overwhelming silence falls over his mind, like a blanket of thick, black velvet. Relief. The sudden dying out of a background murmur he had never recognised until it stopped. The quiet is all-consuming, incomprehensible, fantastic. The release of a muscle flexed for years on end. Finally waking from a nightmare to the unworldly hush of night. A dream he knew well, but had never put name nor reason to. Weight lifted from his chest, breathing free, movements wholly his own for perhaps the first time in his life. Respite from the storm. But underneath the stillness, there’s a foreboding: a forest only falls silent in the presence of a predator.

It’s been years, but Echo still panics whenever he wakes on a medical bench. Pain blooms in his frontal lobe as he pitches himself upward, his hand raising to find a bacta patch plastered there beneath the rivets.

“Echo?”

Omega’s voice sounds so fragile. She lays his name out delicately, like she’s afraid she’ll break it. He immediately forces his eyes open to give her a reassuring smile, desperate to rid her of that timid tone.

“Hey, kid.” He cuts her off when she opens her mouth again– “I’m fine. Promise. Good as new.” A quick scan of the room, and he sees his brothers around him, all in varying stages of regained consciousness. All with matching scars on their scalps. Marking them, finally, as free men. If Echo was awake enough to have full use of his body, he would smile at the thought. His gaze lands on Rex, standing guard in the doorway, and he finds that the smile grows completely on its own.

It had taken months for Echo to feel like a part of Clone Force 99. That was mostly by his own design: any attempt at bonding from his new teammates had been met with a wall of solid durasteel. He’d lacked even the decency to respond with anger, denying the others the barest hint of emotion. Scared that even hostility was too much of an intimacy. But his brothers had worn him down, for better or worse.

“Echo, you ever play Sabacc? Cross always cheats, but if we team up on him we might win!”

“I noticed on the last mission it seemed your cybernetics were somewhat miscalibrated. If you like, I can take a look at them and make some improvements?”

“If you’re going to sit up and brood in silence again, you can at least make it worth your while and drink with me. …And for the record, I don’t cheat at Sabacc. I’m just better.”

Before he knew it, he had four new brothers.

Just what he got for vowing never to get attached again.

Rex offers him a hand when he tries to lift himself to his feet, one he gratefully accepts.

“Did it feel this strange for you?” he asks, blinking hard. Rex gives a stiff shrug.

“Didn’t have time to think about it. When I got my chip out, I… had other things to think about.”

Echo doesn’t pull at that thread.

“So… He really was right.”

No matter how many times Rex had explained Fives’ death, Echo had never made sense of it in the past. It didn’t help that Rex’s own recollection of the incident was garbled, fogged over by confusion and grief. All Echo could gather was the vague notion of fear, paranoia and conspiracy. His brother had died desperate and frantic, with a warning to Rex that made little sense in the moment and even less when retold after months of rumination.

It made far too much sense now.

“Yeah,” Rex sighs, eyes flitting to each of the other clones in the derelict room. “Yeah, he was. I just wish…”

Echo nods.

“Me, too,” he breathes. It’s silent for a moment, until Rex speaks again. Echo isn’t sure what makes his brother say it now: despite Echo’s probing questions since he’d first been rescued, Rex had never answered. Now that he does say it, though, it hits Echo like a punch to the gut.

“He never got over it, you know.”

Even after he had begun to consider himself a real member of the Bad Batch, Echo had done little more than coast. Though he still put all his effort into their missions –it was hard to break such a hardwired work ethic– his heart was rarely invested in their assignments.

And then, just like that, the war had ended.

Standing aboard the Havoc Marauder, watching Kamino turn into a pinprick of light in the ocean as they fled, Echo had felt a sudden, harsh pang of relief that Fives was no longer with him. He would feel it often in the coming months as The Empire tightened its grip on the galaxy, sometimes morphing into a bitter jealousy: Fives never had to see what had become of the Republic. Of their brothers.

Slowly, he and the others gather their bearings, carve out as many seconds of rest as they dare before scraping themselves together to leave. They aren’t naive enough to consider anywhere safe for long. The silence as they trek out of the rotting venator is heavy, and it’s jarring when someone breaks it.

“One of your men really figured all this out?” Hunter says to Rex, sounding sceptical in a way that sparks an involuntary flare of anger in Echo. “The chips, what they were for, Order 66, all of it?”

“I don’t know if he knew what it all meant,” Rex says, kicking aside a hunk of warped durasteel to make way for Omega. “But he definitely knew what the chips could do to us. And he figured out the Chancellor was behind it long before anyone else ever did.”

“The Emperor,” Tech interjects, “technically speaking, now.”

Rex shrugs halfheartedly, then continues, eyes trained firmly on the ground in front of them;

“I shouldn’t have been surprised. If anyone was brave, skilled and stupid enough to pull that kind of stunt off, it was always going to be Fives,” he says, smiling wistfully. “But I’m sure you’ve all heard far too much about that since Echo joined you.” The silence from behind Rex makes him pause, turn to see the others’ confused expressions in the light of his headlamp. He looks to Echo, gives him a bewildered, questioning frown, and Echo shrinks, unable to meet his eye. As close as he has grown with his new brothers, there are still a few nerves too raw to touch.

He stays in touch with Rex as often as their situation allows. It may be an unnecessary risk, the number of calls he makes to Rex’s encrypted comm frequency. He always disguises it under some flimsy justification, sharing a scrap of intel or paltry status report. Hardly anything substantial. Nonetheless, Rex answers every time. And he never ends the transmission when the information runs out and the conversation turns trivial.

“She’s getting good,” Echo tells him, smiling vaguely out into hyperspace. “She’ll be a better shot than I ever was.”

“Sounds like she’s got a good teacher.” There’s pride in Rex’s voice. Echo never did manage to outgrow his giddy reaction to positive feedback. Especially from his Captain. Silence takes hold, and Echo searches for something to keep the transmission going, but Rex gets there before him.

“You know my offer still stands,” he says gently. “There’s always a place for you here, brother. I’d be glad to have you back.”

Echo isn’t quite sure what makes him pause. Months ago, in the last days of the war, and even after its end, he would have jumped at the chance. To be back with Rex, to return to something he knew, to what he could only assume was the closest a clone could get to home. He’d been so directionless, disconnected from himself, unsure there was even a self left anymore.

“I…” He begins the sentence with no way to finish it. There’s a lot he wants to say. A lot he wants to do. He’s still getting used to wanting things again at all. It was a strange feeling after spending so long adrift, running on inertia without drive or purpose. But once the Batch had turned from soldiers to brothers, then to sister as well… Once his chip had been removed, and he’d learned exactly what his brother’s death had meant, all Fives had done to try and protect the family he had left…

“I think I understand,” Rex says, and Echo wonders in dismay if he’d said any of that out loud.

“I want to go with you,” he finally blurts. “I want to help you, I do. Eventually. But right now…”

“It’s okay.” Rex’s voice is softer over the comm. Too soft. Echo digs his scomp into the side of his thigh, breath tight in his throat. “You’ve got to do what’s best for your vode. And right now, the best thing you can do is stay around for them.”

A noise in the cockpit behind him sends Echo scrambling to wipe at his eyes, whirling his chair around to find Omega peeking down at him from her tailgun-come-bedroom.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says, like she’s apologising. “Are you talking to Rex? Can… Can I sit up with you?”

Who is he to say no to her, when she looks at him like that?

Rex keeps the frequency open far longer than he probably should, regaling Omega with war stories, some true to life and some Echo knows for a fact are embellished. Still, he doesn’t correct him, not when it would only dull the spark in Omega’s eyes, listening so intently. Echo says nothing when Rex begins the story of two particularly brave ARC troopers, incredibly daring and heroic on the battlefield, but–

“–absolute idiots everywhere else.” Omega giggles uncontrollably, and even Echo smiles: he’ll cop that one. Though he does have to cringe at some of the misadventures that follow. At least Omega enjoys laughing at these two ridiculous, childish ARC troopers and their exploits.

“They were always better when they were fighting together,” Rex tells her, and Echo’s chest seizes, “but even when they were separated, even when they didn’t realise it, they still fought for each other.”

Echo makes the decision right then and there, with his brothers asleep in their bunks behind him, Omega perched on the arm of his chair and Rex’s stories in his ear. When (not if, when ) this is all over, he and his family will go travelling.

Naboo first.

#drabble #fic #do i write a fic now where rex tells echo about umbara and echo has to deal with knowing what his brothers went through #or do i finally leave these poor men alone #sw tcw #tbb #star wars: the clone wars #star wars: the bad batch #sw tcw fic #tbb fic #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #domino twins #captain rex #clone wars angst #angst #grief

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toomanybandstocare · 1 year

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{How Wolffe Falls Asleep & What That Says About Him}

Program: Just how he falls asleep when he's deployed and when he has the luxury of being at home in your arms. Where feels safe and loved.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x GN! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Camp Resolute Masterlist

Every night Wolffe lays down to try to fall asleep and struggles to find comfort or calm his mind enough to drift off

The ticking whiz of his cybernetic eye echoes in the quiet of the night and makes his ears ring from the stimulation

Because of that, Wolffe needs some sort of background noise to help make it manageable

More often than not, he doesn't get a full night's sleep

Either someone wakes him up in need of something particularly pressing or drench in sweat with a racing pulse

Nightmares invade his mind, and he's incapable of waking himself up

Forced to watch whatever horror his subconscious chose for the night

When manages to shoot awake, Wolffe uses the 5 sense technique to try to calm his beating heart and reground himself in reality

That doesn't stop him from checking on his battalion, quietly moving through the barracks to make sure everyone is breathing and safe

While on shore leave, Wolffe completely disappears from the GAR with only General Plo Koon able to get in contact with him if needed

Once planetside, Wolffe is right by your side and focuses on being home

He pulls you to his side in bed, half on top of his chest half sprawled on the mattress, with one arm loosely wrap around you and his other hand rubbing the back of your head

Wolffe's favorite background noise to fall asleep to is the sound of your breathing slowly slowing down, only interrupted by sleepy hiccups

To him, Wolffe knows that he's home when his body sinks into complete relaxation and matches your breathing

He also has learned the subtle changes to know when you've fallen asleep, and he does his absolute best not to fidget too much to avoid waking you up

Morning rises through the light curtain, and the pair of you wake up as one in a tangle of limbs

Wolffe squeezes you tightly with care and pulls you as close as he can to his chest

His morning voice rumbles lowly to greet you with a small kiss to the shell of your ear that sends butterflies flying in your stomach without fail each time

It reminds you of the sound a warm summer thunderstorm approaching

Wolffe begins to allow himself to think about what a life after the war would look like and especially how the two of you would live together with the luxury of being able to stay

To stay and make himself at home in your arms

He hopes that mornings with you will always feel like soft kisses, fleeting touches, and gentle caresses under the warm sunbeams

-> Wolffe has had to push his emotional needs to the side in order to serve the Republic and ensure his brothers could count on him to keep them safe. -> He's not completely comfortable outright showing his love or vulnerability, so he indulges himself in the safety of nighttime. -> Wolffe only finds solace when you spend the night together, and he wants to make sure you know that he loves you just as much as you feel for him. He never wants you think that he's using you for comfort or escapism.

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cookiesabode · 5 months

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@ladysongmaster-library I love your fics so much they’re just so 🥰✨💖💕💞 they’re so sweet; so cute!!! I’ve been reading every night for the past few days and I- *giddy giggling* AH! I love how much energy and detail you put into each one of them I could just die!!!

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omaano · 5 months

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“How’d you get stuck with babysitting duty anyway?” Boba asked one day during dinner. “Oh, I volunteered for this,” Fox told him. “Why the kark would you do that?” “Language,” Fox admonished. “Well, I was just living my normal boring life and I thought to myself, ‘I don’t get called an ugly piece of banthashit often enough.’ So I decided to adopt you.” Boba snorted. “You’re a psychopath,” he told Fox. “I’ve been called worse,” Fox replied breezily. Boba doesn’t find a new family and Fox doesn’t become anybody’s dad; an adoption story.

@bilbosmom-belladonna commissioned me to illustrate a scene from her delightful fic Trying to Escape What You Can't Let Go. She was amazing to work with and you should absolutely check out her fun little found family story!

#boba fett #young boba fett #commander fox #star wars fanart #tcw fanart #my art #digital art #cc 1010 #sw fanart #sw tcw #artists on tumblr #fanart #I've only ever drawn baby Boba with this one expression on his face but I love him with it so much #also I was recently reminded that 12-13 year olds are actually teeny tiny so I guess he got his growth spurt early?#can you please appreciate Fox's barely visible shirt?#I'm so glad Bella let me work it in in the end!! I thought I was being very funny #also totally check out the fic!! the banter is A++! and boba is such a traumatized little shit I love him!#they match just right with fox

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bloatedandalone04 · 4 months

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Dating Anakin Skywalker would include;

Warnings: jealousy, descriptions of smut, smut, fluff, angst, kinks, swearing, more badly written headcanons

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

➪First things first; this man is jealous 99% of the time, let’s be real here.

➪Your relationship is forbidden, so Anakin isn’t able to show you off in all the ways he wants to.

➪All he’s allowed to do is train with you and sometimes is able to get away with pulling your back against his chest as he guides your saber down in a quick slash, but that is really it.

➪It’s nowhere near enough for him, but he puts up with it since he still gets to end most of his days with you in your secret shared room.

➪With that being said, even though he is a very jealous person, he is also very sweet.

➪When he wants to be.

➪But only with you.

➪You are the only person who gets to see his soft side.

➪You train together often since it’s really the only time you get to interact outside of your room, and he shamelessly admitted once that seeing you like that turns him on a lot.

➪Since you are a Jedi yourself, you and Anakin get to go on missions together and protect one another since you don’t really trust anyone else to do it.

➪It also allows for you to be around each other 24/7 without any suspicion being drawn to you.

➪And it usually allows Anakin to be all over you in the privacy of his ship/and or a separate room from the one at the temple.

➪Now....everyone says that he is a massive sub..not me.

➪I don’t buy it.

➪While he’s not a full blown dom (at least not until he turns to the dark side and then later becomes Vader), he’s also not a whiney sub who is just there for you to use.

➪He, of course, cares more about your pleasure than his own, but he also doesn’t act like he’s only a fucktoy for you.

➪Let’s be real, he is a lover, and therefore makes love to you in all the ways that leave you flustered and red in the face.

➪Now, that’s not to say he doesn’t have his full on dom moments.

➪When he gets super jealous, he’ll take you by the hand - and usually doesn’t care who sees, which is something he has to spend time later explaining - and take you back to his room to have his way with you.

➪He’ll say things like, “What were you doing with him, baby? Hm?” or “You think he can make you feel as good as I can? Does he really think that you’d let him?” while he’s railing you into an early grave.

➪With one hand gripping the headboard and the other covering your mouth so you’re not overheard, he is just completely letting out his jealousy and frustration of not being able to show you off like he wants to.

➪That being said, he’s not very quiet himself.

➪He usually has a swollen bottom lip by the time you’re both spent since he had to bite down on it hard to keep himself at least somewhat quiet.

➪His kinks are simple; marking, hair pulling and, you guessed it, choking.

➪He’s very careful with the way marks you, scattering love bites along your shoulders that are always covered by your robes, or on your inner thighs.

➪You’ve been with him for a long time, and saw the departure of his beloved braid, and when he decided to grow out his hair...oh boy.

➪His head had never been more sore.

➪You pull on it every time he takes you to bed, tugging the curls between your fingers with each thrust of his hips.

➪The headache he’d have afterwards was so worth it since he had been a bit nervous that you’d hate the new way he had begun styling his hair, and he was happy he couldn’t have been more wrong.

➪Choking....that should explain itself.

➪But the man loves wrapping his metal fingers gently around your throat, not nearly with enough pressure to block your airways but enough for you to feel it.

➪When he began to turn to the dark side, he definitely applied a bit more pressure, but still not enough to hurt you.

➪After all, you are the reason he lives and breathes, and he would never dream of causing you any type of harm.

➪His names for you are; sweet girl, angel, star and the occasional baby - but he usually saves that one for the bedroom.

➪You two eventually get married in the most lowkey wedding in the history of lowkey weddings, and exchange lightsabers as a way of showing your love.

➪Afterwards he took you away from Coruscant on a special mission - which was really just a fancy name for your honeymoon.

➪While it didn’t last long, Anakin did manage to get you pregnant, and that came with many problems.

➪Hiding it was a challenge, and hiding your son after giving birth was even harder, but you managed to do it for a while until you were able to get your own place in the city, where you and Anakin were able to raise him in peace and privacy.

➪Pick an AU; Anakin never turns to the dark side and gets to experience what it’s like to be a dad, or he does and you give up your son in order to protect him (and to keep him safe from his Sith father).

➪Either way, his love for you never falters and lives on through the memories you share together, whether or not he remains the loyal Jedi he was always meant to be.

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voidartisan · 10 months

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i really really need a scene in star wars animation post-o66 where some inquisitor or bounty hunter or whatever has disarmed ahsoka and they're like "i thought someone who trained under the legendary kenobi and skywalker would be better with a lightsaber" and she just says "yeah well master obi-wan also taught me how to do THIS" and kicks them in the face

#because HE DID #he is not above a little street brawling #he's good at hand-to-hand combat and sometimes it's not as graceful and refined as he'd like it to be and that's okay!!!#maybe i'll have to write it in a fic or smth #we'll see #ahsoka tano #sw #tcw #the clone wars #disaster lineage

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clonemando · 2 days

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Imagine: Fox has Force-given plot armor, basically nothing is able to kill him.

Palpatine tries to lightning him at point blank and it... Just doesn't work. Fox gives him a tired look and finishes his report.

Palpatine tries to chop him with his lightsabers but they just go out as soon as they get close to Fox and Fox sighs deeply and explains that he can't die. That when he was a cadet he saved a aiwha and it turned into some green force goddess chick who blessed him and ever since no one can harm him. He's jumped from the top of Tipoca city, sat at the bottom of Kamino's ocean, left a ship while in space and walked around outside. His brothers have taken to surprise attacking him for the hell of it. Nothing.

Palpatine grins thinking of how great this is having Fox as his servant after all and tries to activate Fox's chip.

Nothing.

Fox sighs again. The Republic is corrupt and even with basic immortality Fox can't just fix it so he just does his job. He's not going to be controlled or whatever. He'll see Palpatine with the usual report tomorrow.

From then on it's just Fox tiredly going about his day while Palpatine tries more and more creative different ways to try to kill him or make him obey him.

Palpatine completely blows off Anakin because he's so obsessed with Fox and Anakin gets all pissy over it and starts trying to kill Fox too.

Thorn and the rest of the Guard find it hilarious and encourage it even joining in sometimes.

Fox: *sitting in the middle of the flaming cafeteria sipping a cup of caff* This is fine.

#commander fox #crack fic idea #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #fanfic #sw tcw #clone troopers #palpatine #anakin skywalker #feel free to use this #just share with me so i can read it

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adh-d2 · 5 months

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I've been thinking a lot about the way Tech and Crosshair speak, how they sound very different but there's a similarity in how precise and measured their voices are.

And now I have the following headcanons:

- Crosshair and Tech are tube twins and they're the youngest of the batch.

- Crosshair was either nonverbal or selectively mute as a cadet. There was a time where the only person he'd murmer things to was Tech and Tech would 'translate' for him.

- In contrast, Tech's always been super verbal but he still struggled to communicate for a while. He used to stumble over words and run out of breath a lot. Maybe he had a stutter. His thoughts just moved so fast that he felt like his voice couldn't keep up.

- So anyway both of them had speech therapy and that's why their accents are different to the rest of the clones thank you for coming to my TechTalk

#Someone more talented than me please write this fic #I just love thinking of them as tiny twin cadets 😭#They are twins your honor #the bad batch #sw tbb #the bad batch headcanons #tbb headcanons #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #the clone wars #sw tcw #ADH-D2's Patented Bullshit

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literallyjustanerd · 7 days

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Requests open! (TCW/TBB)

I'm trying to get back into writing but I'm not ready to tackle any of my big projects yet, so I'm opening requests for flash fics :)

Any clone, any genre, any theme, x reader or other ship (I'm especially partial to codywan)

Smut is very much on the table

Subject to my own limitations but lmk what you have in mind!

Let's hear your ideas!

#sw tcw #tbb #clone x reader #sw tcw fic #tbb fic #drabble

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toomanybandstocare · 1 year

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{A Small Army}

Program: With requests and paperwork assignments falling from two generals, you feel overwhelmed by the lack of support to help finish the additional work. Too afraid to make another mistake, you throw yourself into your tasks unaware of the watchful eyes of those around you. If you won't ask for help yourself, then Wolffe will remind you of the people around who care and want to help. And he'll take the time to explain just how much you mean to him and how much he's willing to do for you, if you let him.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x GN! Reader

Side Pairing Ref: Fives x OC! Kiva

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Length: 4110w

Warnings: Some swears, Overwhelming/Anxious emotions (no outright panic attack, but reader does show beginning symptoms), Petnames (Riduur, Cya'rika, Partner, Love), Reader gets pick up and carried for a little bit before being placed back on their feet

Counselor Note: I had a conversation with @twistedstitcher27 about how communication isn't typically shown in literature, and got inspired to write my own :) If you're a clone wars fan (18+ only) definitely check out their work!

Camp Resolute Masterlist

“I expected more from you,” General Plo Koon sighs as you shrink before him.

The command center hums in silence as everyone tries not to look at the two of you. Their quick glances burn into your skin as you stand before the Triumphant’s general. The thick atmosphere suffocates you.

“I- I’m, sorry, general,” you begin in a hurry. “I can make up that surveillance report in just a few moments. I can get started,” you fumble with your words as General Koon raises his hand to stop you.

“That’s quite alright,” he says. “I’m sure you have more work to keep up with, so just head back to your console. I can prepare one before the meeting quickly”. General Koon pats your shoulder with a nod as he walks past you to leave for the council meeting.

Forcing a deep breath through into your lungs, you move to your systems console. Chatter slowly grows as your fellow officers try to return the command center to its usual flow. However, the pained smiles and sympathetic looks sit heavy with you. As you sink into your seat and slowly wish it could eject you into space, a light hearted chuckle comes from just behind your shoulder.

“I know I don’t need to tell you this, but I wouldn’t take it personally,” Kiva reminds you. He rests his hip against your console desk, and he looks at you with a genuine smile.

“Glad to ever be your source of amusement, Kiva,” you huff. His teasing helps relieve some of the aching tension that rooted in your shoulders. You tear your gaze away from his, and your small smile melts as you boot up the computer systems. “Real talk?”

Kiva’s posture straightens as he looks at you in all seriousness. In a low voice he responds, “Real talk”.

“I keep mixing up the generals’ requests, and I feel like I’m losing my mind with everything stacking on top of each other,” you admit. Your fingertips dance across the keypad as your eyes flicker between Kiva and the holoscreen. “I was up all night working on the survivor assessment for General Kenobi, and I guess-,” your voice trails off as a corporal walks past you to the command console.

“You got lost with the pile of work handed off to you, and the surveillance report slipped from your mind,” Kiva concludes.

Those words hold nothing but the truth, yet they punch you in the chest. Only able to nod your head, you pull up your schedule and task list to cross reference the day’s priorities.

“I just don’t understand why General Kenobi hasn’t been assigned a new civilian officer yet,” Kiva ponders. He grabs the empty chair from the next console over to join you at your station. “Have you mentioned this to Wolffe at all,” he gently asks as he leans on the chair arm. His words become even quieter as he refers to the Commander.

You shoot him an annoyed look before continuing on with the report on Felucia’s ecosystem. “Why would I need to share this with the commander,” your cool voice rings clear with your opinion on the matter. “I’m more than capable of handling some paperwork”.

“Clearly,” Kiva laughs, “Since you keep getting piled up with shitloads everyday, because you’re still worried about proving your keep. Just give me some. I don’t have much going on today, and I know you’re overwhelmed with all of this”.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, Kiva rolls his chair to bump you out of his way. His hands fly across the keypad, and what seems like only a few parsecs laters, the comm signal beeps from his console.

Putting his elbow on your console, he rests his head against his palm as he turns to face you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Now, we can talk about why you don’t want to tell Wolffe what’s going on,” he pushes.

A sting of guilt prickles in your chest. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell him,” you softly admit. “I just don’t want to add to his worries. Felucia is not looking like an easy operation, and he’s been pulled into almost every mission even if it’s under the 212th or 501st’s lead. He has so much more pressing concerns going on, and I don’t want to add to it when we manage a moment alone”. You pull yourself back to your console system and bump Kiva out of the way as you pull up the task list once more. “What did you send over to yourself?”

Kiva sighs beside you, “Community rehabilitation. Just promise you won’t hide this from Wolffe?”

You hum, not giving a definitive answer. The holoscreen has your complete attention as your work on analyzing the ecosystem’s terrain. Determined to make up for your mistakes, you press on throughout the day. When your commanding officers ask for a check, you provide one with minimal delay. Once the council meeting has ended, you immediately put together a tentative schematic based on their decision, and you have it pulled up on the main holopad by the time the generals and commanders return to the deck. Throwing yourself into your work, you hardly notice the late hour from your chronometer or how most of the other officers have gone off to the mess hall for dinner.

“Hey, you coming?,” the corporal of the 104th calls over to you. Comet sends you an inviting smile, and you can only return a tired smile when you shake your head. “Come on,” he beckons you with a wave of his arm, “I don’t think I’ve seen you leave the deck all day. You need to take care of yourself, you know”.

“I’ll be there in a bit, corporal,” you compromise. Your words start to slur together, and you have to blink away the dryness across your eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Comet,” he shoots a teasing smile that doesn’t last long. Comet’s concerned eyes take you in. Your body leans the console for support. Watery eyes cause you to flinch when you blink. Multiple water bottles and snack kits on the ground beside your station. “Just,” he hesitates, “don’t wait too long, alright? The food may be shitty, but it’s something. Join us when you finish up”.

Comet waits for your hum of acknowledgement, and only leaves after he watches you fall back into your databases.

“Come on, Comet,” Sinker says under his breath. He pulls Comet away from your hunched figure. “At this rate, the candle is burning at both ends. We’ll give Wolffe a heads up, but there’s not much more that we can do”.

“I’m this close,” Boost hisses and holds up his thumb and pointer finger barely touching each other between the three of them. The bay doors slide behind them, and their footsteps echo against the corridor. “This close from having Fives tell Kiva to intercept and send half that extra work to me. Just because the 212th is short handed with civilian relief doesn't mean they can dump it all on our civvie”.

It doesn’t take very long for the troopers to reach the mess hall as the corridors lack their usual traffic. Second shift has already begun to take over their posts, and most of the first shift have found their spot in the mess hall. An unspoken understanding drives the three men to search for their leader before finding a place in line for the evening’s dinner options.

There sitting cross-armed at the unofficial CO table, Wolffe watches in disinterest as Commander Cody and Captain Rex argue over which of their men would reach Arc Trooper rank next. This conversation would be somewhat bearable if his riduur was nearby. Usually chatting away with the 501st’s civilian relief officer, he finds a sense of comfort when you’re nearby. His eyes scan the mess hall as a few more groups trickle in, but disappointment only greets him at the door each time. However, the sight of three of his men walking straight to his table makes him straighten up. If it’s about the shiny who keeps starting fights with the 212th’s batch, he wants nothing to do with it.

“Commanders, Captain,” Sinker greets the officers as the three of them approach the table.

Each of the commanding officers take them in with wary eyes. Used to the trouble that their men tend to find themselves in, each dreads what the sergeant’s report will reveal.

“Sinker, Boost, Comet,” Wolffe acknowledges his men, “what is it this time? Colt starting shit he can follow through with?” With a sigh Wolffe begins to stand from his untouched meal.

“Surprisingly not,” Boost stops Wolffe before he can grab his helmet.

Wolffe looks at his men with a cautious gaze. If it wasn’t the shinies acting up, then it’s something far more serious. He slowly sits back down and looks between each trooper. All of whom shift as his eyes move from one trooper to the next. “Who’s in trouble then?” Wolffe asks.

“It would actually be our civilian officer, it seems,” Comet steps forward and meets Wolffe's cold expression. “As the 212th has recently lost their civilian relief officer, General Kenobi has handed off their previous assignments to our’s. From what I’ve been able to observe today and what I’ve overheard from Kiva and other deck officers, our civvie is overwhelmed with the sudden increase of two battalion’s worth of work”.

When you became the topic of discussion, Wolffe’s body froze as worry seeped through his plastoid armor through his skin and into his bones. Everything seemed okay from when the two of you caught up the other night. He tilts his head as he processes the corporal’s words. What is he missing?

“He shouldn’t be doing that though. Regardless of the deployment timeline, we still have enough of a grace period to wait for our new civvie officer,” Cody fills in for Wolffe. Turning to face his brother, Cody sees Wolffe fall further into himself. “Wolffe, why don’t you go check on your officer? I’ll speak with General Kenobi and remind him to split the work between the two relief officers or wait for our new civvie to arrive,” Cody calls out.

Without delay, Wolffe stands up and grabs his helmet. His body moves without thought, and Wolffe’s mind focuses on getting to you. “Thank you for letting us know of the situation,” Wolffe stiffly nods at his squad mates.

All five men watch him quickly walk through the throngs of people and exit the mess hall. They exchange glances before chuckling lightly. This relationship had to be the worst open secret of the GAR.

If anyone thought it odd to see Wolffe so uncollected, no one said a word when he marched past them. His heart races as his boots pound against the metal tiling. Why didn’t he notice you were overwhelmed? A pang falters his heartbeat, and Wolffe sucks in a quick breath. How did he fail you so badly? Practically slamming the holopad, Wolffe hurries through the deck doors just as they open.

“Cya’rika,” Wolffe pants. Desperation crawls up his throat and clings onto his words as he searches the deck. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up as silence blankets over the deck once more.

“Wolffe?” a tired mumble calls from the officers’ consoles.

Wolffe practically throws himself down the stairs and through the scattered chairs in his path. His footsteps fall short when he reaches you. “Love,” Wolffe trails off.

Barely able to keep your eyes open, you peer up at your riduur. You don’t know how long after Comet left that you drifted off to sleep. More report requests filled your inbox and a sudden desire to just stop overcame you. Your body gradually sank onto your console, and the thought of doing anything caused your chest to seize.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at dinner?” you mumble and rub your eyes. When you open your eyes again, Wolffe’s placing his helmet on the console near him as he moves closer to you. His warm eyes take you in with a concerned expression.

“I was, but a few pups told me that my cya’rika feels overwhelmed,” he slowly explains. Wolffe kneels by your side and rests his hands on the tops of your thighs.

Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you can’t help but try to hide in your arms to avoid his gaze. Comet.

“Hey, hey,” Wolffe gently pulls your arms away and holds your face in his hands. The pads of his gloves softly graze your cheeks as he stares up with complete adoration. “What’s wrong, hm? Talk to me,” he quietly pleads.

The deck hums in anticipation as you try to form your explanation, but no words come to you. Your sight becomes blurry as tears burn your lash line. Opening your mouth, a lump forms in your throat and it constricts your airway. “I’m sorry,” you wheeze.

“None of that now. Let’s get you to bed,” Wolffe’s voice soothes your brewing anxiety.

“I still have-,” you quickly try to push on with your work. A wave of nerves rushes through you.

“Cya’rika, please,” Wolffe firmly stops you. He pulls your face to his, and he rests his forehead against yours. “We can figure this out together. I am here for you, and I want to support you. But I can only do that if you allow me,” he deep rumbles. Those words fill with tenderness as his lips invite you to fall into his hold.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you choke on a sob.

“You are never a bother,” he states. Wolffe’s hold on your face tightens only slightly. “You hear me? Never a bother. I love you, and I adore everything about being with you. That means the celebrations and strife of life”.

“I know, but-,” you pause. Biting on your lower lip, you focus your gaze down to your lap.

Wolffe waits patiently. The familiar feeling of dread and anxiety from war often nips at the back of his mind. He rubs small circles across your cheeks as he keeps an eye on you. “I’m here,” Wolffe whispers, “I’m here for you”.

“I didn’t want to add to your stress,” you admit. “I know that you’ve had to work with more battalions and join them for additional missions. Each time your ship requests permission to dock, I run down to the hanger just to make sure you’ve come back. Each time you step off that ship looking more worn down than the last time. So for the few moments we can spend together, I just want to enjoy our time and make sure you have a moment of peace”.

When you pull your eyes to meet Wolffe’s gaze, he greets you with the softest smile that causes a flurry of butterflies to tickle your stomach. Your chest rises and falls heavy as you wait for his response. The faint signals and hissing from the deck fill the silence, but the air feels less thick between the two of you.

“Mesh’la,” Wolffe sighs and pulls you into a tight embrace to rest his head against your midsection. His breath fans across your stomach as he peers up at you. Small wrinkles crease at the corner of his eyes as they look at you in warm regard. He takes ahold of your wringing hands in one of his own, and he unlocks them to weave his fingers with yours. “I suppose we need to work on communicating our needs to each other, hm,” Wolffe hums and trails his other hand up your side. Ripples of soothing tingles spread where his fingers drag across your uniform.

“You’d think with such close quarters, we’d be in sync at this point,” you let out a relieved chuckle.

“May I share my perspective, or would you prefer we wait until you’ve gotten some rest?” Wolffe asks. Without breaking eye contact with you, he moves your hand to press a flurry of small kisses.

His lips pause at each of your knuckles, and he carefully rubs your overworked fingers. The tender care causes a sigh to slip from your lips. Your shoulders relax as you watch your riduur with an adoring expression. Wolffe holds your hand up to leave featherlight kisses on the tips of your fingers.

Neither of you rush to carry on your conversation as Wolffe presses one more kiss to the palm of your hand. Then his lips trail to your wrist with a wicked glint in his eye. He nips at the soft skin quickly and beams from your laughter. His deep rumble joins you, and your carefree expressions only calm down when you hold his cheek in your hand.

“Do you have time now?” you ask. A spark of hope soothes the jittering residual nerves from the day.

“For you? I will always make time,” Wolffe squeezes your hand that cradles his face and rubs small circles on your thigh with his other.

Your smile falters, “That’s what I’m worried about”.

“I,” Wolffe pauses. His eyes flicker across your face as he thinks about the best way to properly convey his emotions. Never having the freedom to share his feelings with another in fear of heartbreak, Wolffe wants to prove his trust in you and foster your trust in him. “I have alway wanted to experience a love where I know my partner, my hopeful riduur, becomes my safe haven. A person who I can trust with my mind, body, and soul,” Wolffe slowly explains. Tearing away his gaze, Wolffe pulls your hands together and rubs his thumbs across your knuckles.

“That’s all I ever want to be for you,” you nod your head for him to continue. Eyebrows creased as you take in his sudden change in demeanor.

“And you are,” Wolffe says and squeezes your hands, “You are my everything. The only person I want to see after a long day, because I know my concerns will be heard. My partner who stays up in the late hours of the night just to spend time with me, because my shifts end later than yours. The love of my life who makes my heart swell when I see you hiding at the hanger doors when I come back from a mission,” he shares and shoots you a knowing smile.

“I thought you didn’t notice,” you bashfully confide.

“I will always notice you,” Wolffe holds your gaze, “I search for you in every room I enter, and I only rest easy when I see you close by. I imagine you when we’re away, because picturing you smiling, safe and sound, keeps me going as blasters echo around me. Remembering how stunning you looked on our first date to the observatory, I know I have a person worth fighting for to come home when I constantly question my worth and dispensability. I have a person who sees me as who I am and loves me for the man I am as well as the man I wish to be. When I picture my riduur, I am greeted by visions of you”.

Neither of you know who shed the first tear, but you are the first to pull your hand away from his to gently wipe his tearstained face.

“You mean everything to me, cya’rika. I want to cherish and devote myself to you as you deserve in your partner,” Wolffe’s voice thick with need. A need for you to understand just how much he is willing to do for you if you allow him. He awaits for your word, your permission, to love you so deeply and care for you how he so desperately wants to. “I will only ever do my best to love you wholeheartedly and take care of you. Mind, body, and soul. But I can only do that if you allow me. Please, I want to be with you if you will have me by your side”.

You open your mouth to respond, but Wolffe beats you with a knowing look, “And don’t apologize”.

The two of you erupt into laughter mixed with sniffles and sobs. Steady hands pull you off your station chair, and you find yourself pressing your face into the crook of Wolffe’s neck while settling on his thighs.

“How are you doing?” Wolffe hums. His arms hold you tight to his chest, and he tucks your head underneath his chin.

“I’m exhausted,” you exhale. The weight of the day and emotional whirlwind brewing inside you suddenly dissipates. Fatigue settles in your bones as you pull yourself closer to your riduur.

“Then I think it’s time for some rest,” Wolffe grunts and lifts both of you up from where he kneels. His arms cradle you to him as he moves the two of you away from your console system.

Tucking your legs around his waist, Wolffe nudges your head with his chin before asking, “Grab that for me?”

Leaning away from him, you quickly grasp his helmet in one hand and pull yourself back into his embrace. Your arms drape around his neck as your cheeks warm. “You don’t have to carry me the whole way,” you point out. The idea of the entire GAR seeing the two of you like this makes you feel dizzy.

“Would you like me to put you down?” Wolffe sincerely asks.

“Please,” you nod.

With one word, Wolffe pauses just before the deck entrance to help you unwrap yourself from his hold. His hand steadies you at the waist when your footing wobbles. Looking at Wolffe, your smile blooms into a beaming expression of appreciation.

“Thank you,” you say and press a chaste kiss to his jaw.

“Anything for you,” Wolffe returns. He takes his hand from your waist and offers it to you. When you take his hand, Wolffe walks with you through the entrance and into the corridor. He leads you past the civilian wing, and your heart flutters knowing you get to spend the night in the arms of your lover. “Cody’s going to speak with General Kenobi, but in the meantime, cya’rika, please send some of the additional work to Kiva. We were all worried today after we had realized the load of osik you were dealing with. You have a small army in your corner who has your back. Remember that, alright?” Wolffe squeezes your hand.

“I won’t forget it,” you squeeze his hand in return with a chuckle, “Especially now that I know I have your pups, the 501st troublemakers, and the 212th jokers keeping an eye out for me”.

Wolffe barks a laugh as he uses his free hand to punch in his room’s passcode, and when the door hisses open, he waves his arm in front to invite you in.

The moment you step foot into his room for the first time in what feels like eternity, you take in the space. Hardly anything has changed as your eyes flitter from his bed to his lock box, but what you see on his desk makes you pause. Sitting beside a pile of schematics and datapads dangling off balance from the other objects that take up space, you find a hologram display set neatly into the corner away from the chaos. Every few seconds, a new image of you or the two of you shuffles onto display and ignites more sparks within your heart.

After you place his helmet on top of his chair, you tear your eyes away from the display and find Wolffe taking off his armor beside his bed. No matter where either of you are in the galaxy or how overwhelming life may be in a moment, you have each other to rely on.

Wolffe straightens up to face you, but his head tilts to the side at the sight of your watery smile. “What’re you thinking,” he asks as he takes slow steps towards you.

“I’m just happy to be home,” you say and take him into your arms. One of his hands rests on the back of your head while the other wraps around you.

Wolffe’s chuckle vibrates against your chest when he says, “It’s not what I have imagined for our home in the future, but for now I am more than glad to share it with you. What’s mine is yours”.

“I’m home when I’m with you,” you mumble against his chest.

Wolfee presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “Welcome home, riduur”.

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sun-roach · 11 months

Text

Fox: Alor, I will-

Thorn: Isn’t it weird to call your vod'ika that?

Fox: *irritated and tired * what?

Thorn: Cody?

Fox: Cody is—- what?

Thorn: Well i don’t think you would call Prime that. I heard you once tried to bite him. Also he is dead

Fox: I tried to bite Alpha-17, not Prime

Thorn: lmao why?

Fox: I called him buir and had to cover up my mistake

Thorn: Awww Fox-

Fox: Do you want to take over my next patrol? Choose your next words wisely

Thorn: You shabuir <3

Fox: *snorts and rolls his eyes *

*Flashback*

Fox: Vor'e, buir!

Alpha-17: … what?

Fox: !… *tries to bite Alpha-17's hand *

Alpha-17: You little shabuir! That’s 3 laps for you, cadet!

Fordo: *raises a brow and watches Fox run*

Alpha-17: He called me buir

Fordo: ….

Alpha-17: He called me buir *grumbled sob*

Fordo: *pats seventeen on the shoulder *

#commander fox #cc 1010 #commander thorn #commander cody #alpha 17 #captain fordo #star wars #tcw #sw tcw #coruscant guard #incorrect star wars quotes #is there a fic where seventeen adopts fox and his batch?

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arctrooper69 · 12 days

Text

Mine

Here's my piece for the wonderful @isaidonyourknees for the @cloneficgiftexchange! So sorry it's a day and a half late! 😂😅

Warnings: Suggestive spice (nothing explicit), unwanted advances, jealousy, angst

--------------------------------------------------

"Leave me alone, Crosshair." The order meant to be snappish slipped out instead with a tired sigh.

"No," came the reply.

You sighed again as you felt him shift and sit down a few feet away. No more words were exchanged - the silence felt both peaceful, yet suffocating.

"Why are you up here pouting?" He finally spoke.

You glanced at him sharply. "I'm not pouting!"

"Yes you are."

"No. I'm not!"

He huffed dryly. "Sure looks like it to me."

"Hunter benched me!"

Crosshair shifted and sighed, "It's for your own good."

You scoffed, "And how would you know what's good for me?"

"You're exhausted. You're off your game."

"I'm fine. I feel fine."

He sighed again and you could practically feel him rolling his eyes. "That constant tapping of your foot and the way you're shaking tells me you're trying to run on stims and caf."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "And how would you know?"

He was silent. "Because I've done the same thing."

"So that makes you think you're better than me?"

"No."

You crossed your arms, turning away from him. “I’m still not pouting.”

“Sure.”

You glared at him out of the corner of your eye. “Just go away.” This time the words did deliver the sharp edge you’d wanted before, but now you weren’t sure it was exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t know what you wanted.

“Fine, came the equally snappish response. Crosshair stood and headed back down the wooded trail. A sudden disappointment threatened to overtake you and a heat burned in the back of your throat as you tried to swallow it back.

“Crosshair wait…” you called out, turning to face him as he paused and turned back.

“What?”

“I…” You stopped. No. Crosshair had better things to do than to deal with emotions that you yourself couldn’t even decipher. “Nevermind.”

For a second he paused, almost as if waiting for you to once again change your mind. He shook his head and turned around once again, disappearing into the woods, leaving you on your own.

Fine. It’s fine. You’d asked for privacy and that’s exactly what he gave you. Yet, it felt lonely nonetheless.

Crosshair was confusing to say the least. One moment it felt like he was trying to make an emotional connection, and the next he acted like he wanted nothing to do with you.

The roar of engines echoed through the trees from the base of the hill as the Marauder soared into the sky and disappeared into the atmosphere.

***

It seemed like forever ago that you'd met the surly sniper on a job. It was forever ago. So much had changed since a heated exchange of angry words led to a moment of heedless passion. One night. A romance ignited by the very intensity that divided you. The same fingers that rested pompously on the trigger of a rifle soon pulled through tangled hair and moved with purpose against your warmth. Tongues once sharp and taunting, now slotted through parted lips with desperate pleas for more.

And then it was over. Back to the cold realities of war. No words were spoken, only awkward avoidances and inverted eyes.

Talk to me, you'd wanted to say. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.

Perhaps that's all it was to him. Maybe you'd given him everything he wanted in that moment. Maybe that's all you were to him - a distraction - a soldier's relief from the stress of a never ending war.

You'd wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come. Then the galaxy changed and as the Republic fell, so did your hopes.

And now after so long, he was back.

***

It was nearing dusk before you finally pushed yourself from the ground and headed back down the path.

Fueled by a growing sense of hunger and the need to be around others, you found yourself walking towards the local cantina.

The music blared from somewhere above, pumping a bass that rattled your bones.

Despite the club-like atmosphere the lighting was dim, illuminating the same bar scene that haunted almost every planet in the galaxy.

The air was thick with the scent of spice and the sound of raucous laughter. You sat at the bar, nursing a drink. Despite the bustle, it still felt lonely.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

Fingers ran across your back as you spun around to face the unfamiliar voice.

A large nikto smiled drunkenly over at you as he leaned against the bar.

“You look lonely. You here alone?”

His breath reeked of alcohol. “You're real pretty,” he slurred, reaching out to grab your arm.

You jerked away, shooting him a glare. "Back off," you growled, voice barely audible over the din of the crowd.

The nikto persisted, his grip tightening. "Come on, don't be like that.”

“Dude,” you rolled your eyes, “leave me alone.”

He sighed, seemingly annoyed at your refusal.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone in a place like this. Let me at least walk you home, baby.”

“Don't call me that,” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grip.

His jaw stiffened as he stood up straighter.

“You should be more grateful that I'm even giving you the time of day, bitch!”

Now it was your turn to stand. The nikto grabbed your arm again. Your fingers curling into a fist, ready to strike the stupid smirk from his drunken face.

"She's not yours to touch."

A familiar voice growled from behind as the nikto’s hand was wrenched from your arm with a cry of pain.

Crosshair.

What was he doing back already? You turned to face him standing behind you, expression dark and dangerous. His hand rested on the blaster at his hip, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

The nikto's eyes narrowed. “And who do you think you are, asshole?”

Crosshair glowered, taking a menacing step forward. “I'm the guy who's going to put an extra hole in you if you don't leave immediately.”

The nikto paused, unsure if he was bluffing or not.

Crosshair clicked the safety off, loosening the blaster from its holster.

"I'm not gonna ask you again," he said, voice low and threatening.

The nikto had enough. “Geez, okay fine! I'm leaving!”

Without another word, he turned and fled, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood silently watching as Crosshair stepped forward, his practiced eyes scanning every inch of you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, “Did he hurt you?”

You let out a shaky breath, “No,” you murmured, “I'm fine.” A smile flitted across your face as you looked up.

Honey brown eyes stared sharp, pierced with concern and something else.

Jealousy?

“Good.” He replied. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something more but couldn't find the courage to do so.

But this time something rose within your own chest, warm and encouraging.

“Crosshair?” The words came timidly despite their bold intent.

He looked sharply, “What?”

“What did you mean by that? ‘She's not yours to touch’?” You asked. His hand, still on your arm, gripped a bit tighter, pulling you close. Something flashed in his eyes. It wasn't the hardness you'd come to expect from him.

“It means you're mine. You've always been mine.”

--------------------------------------------------

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @the-rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rogue @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @ghostlyembassy @skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023 @jedipoodoo @reader6898 @all-mights-babygirl @arcsimper5 @red-robin-yum08 @wintersnnowie @whore-of-many-hot-men @theeyesofasoldier @griffedeloup @starswhores @totallyunidentified @waytooldforthis78

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

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alamogirl80 · 9 months

Text

This has been sitting finished on my iPad for months. I was trying to make it into a cover art for my Codywan “And I’ll Follow the Light in You” fic but I never got the lettering right.

I don’t care to keep fooling with it anymore so I’m yeeting it here.

Also Cody should have had a kama at some point.

#star wars #the clone wars #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #tcw #Star Wars art #clone wars art #mel’s art #sw the clone wars #cody x obi wan #fic art #digital art

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omaano · 11 months

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♥ Ace Wolffe My Beloved ♥

#commander wolffe #wolffe #tcw #star wars #the clone wars #tcw fanart #sw tcw #clone trooper #my art #as much as I like to ship him and when he gets all bite-y in fics ace headcanons for wolffe are close and dear to my heart okay thanks #happy pride month #bit of representation for me through one of my faves because I deserve it #I very badly want to turn this into a sticker or something... not sure how the colours would fare though #tcw wolffe #I know I promised more Rex but I'm taking a bit of a turn towards the 104th when I'll have time for a bigger personal project #it will be cool if I get around to it I promise

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skywlker-sluvtt · 1 year

Note

jealousy angry sex to fluff what do you think I really love a jealous ani like in the clone wars

I adore jealous clone wars Anakin. The whole Padme and Clovis thing was just so 🤤 especially when Anakin beat the shit outta him. Here's a lil headcanon-y piece. I went a lil overboard but...I kinda like it 🫣 I hope you enjoy lovey.

Warnings: degrading, dirty talk, no protection (please be safe), spanking, possessive asf behaviour, and more 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.5k

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

➮ Anakin is so vocally jealous. He’s a cocky ass hole and he will talk to the person flirting with you in the most condescending way ever and it gets on everyone’s nerves.

➮ He’s just so possessive of you and wishes you just wore a sticker on your shirt saying “Anakin’s my husband go away” so everyone fucks off. He also starts getting annoyed at you if you seem to be entertaining someone's flirtatious behaviour. Anakin’s watching you with some douchebag and he’s thinking “Yeah I bet that dick head can’t make you cum as good as I can” cause his mind goes straight to sex.

➮ It starts with his firm assertive ‘I’m the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, fear me fucker’ voice. He stands up straight, with crossed arms and a clenched jaw as he storms over to retrieve you. (this part is incredibly sexy because he’s so hot and jealous)

➮ You can just feel the envy radiating off his body and you almost enjoy it. Anakin will make some shitty excuse to take you away making it somewhat obvious you’re his and only his. He’ll firmly grab your arm basically pulling you away from the guy. Anakin shares his partner with no one. If anyone is even talking to you with any kind of suggestive tone Anakin will go for their throat and sometimes it can be a little embarrassing if he makes it seem like you can’t take care of yourself.

➮ “Anakin! That was humiliating I can look out for myself I don’t need you constantly lurking around me asshole” You complain pacing your shared bedroom. “Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend,” He says sarcastically. “You possessive jealous little boy. Get over yourself” You roll your eyes frustrated with his behaviour, but knowing where it will get you is the real goal here 🤭

➮ “Possessive? I’ll show you possessive” He growls standing up and towering over you. His large muscular frame is just too much to deal with. He grabs your face gripping your jaw to make you look at him. “Do you not value my protection love?” He asks his eyes are dark with lust. “I don’t need you over my shoulder constantly” You huff. “You’re so naive Y/N” He states. You turn your head avoiding his dangerous gaze. “Darling, who do you belong to?” He asks in such a fake-sweet-sounding tone. This is when he decides he’ll just fuck the bratty attitude out of you. “I don’t belong to anyone” You reply. He scoffs before pressing a hard, lewd kiss to your lips.

➮ Knowing what’s coming next you return the kiss threading your fingers through his hair as you both fight for control in the kiss. His tongue dominates yours and he pulls away smirking. “Strip for me, then get on the bed” Anakin whispers lowly in your ear giving your ass a smack and you’re quick to do as he says. As you take your panties off he snatches them from you. “Hey!” You try to grab them back and he smirks. “I think I might keep these in case I have to gag you” He replies swinging them around his finger and making you turn bright red.

➮ He’s the kind of guy to act fake sweet and humiliate you before angry fucking you till you can’t cum anymore.

➮ Slowly, you get on the bed as he takes off his own robes. “Touch yourself” He states still standing at the end of the bed. “What?” You reply shocked by his request. “Touch. Your. Self. Don’t make me repeat myself” He says again as you hesitantly move your hand down to your dripping heat. Biting your lip you slowly begin to circle your swollen cunt and Anakin can’t help but smirk watching the way your eyebrows are drawn together and the breathy moans you let out. “For someone who doesn’t need me you’re soaked princess” He sneers coming even closer to you, his eyes trained on your pussy. “Not for you” You reply. “Really?” Anakin laughs. “Should I leave? Maybe I’ll find someone at a bar who wants me” He sighed getting up. “N-No, no Anakin I-I didn’t mean it,” You whine reaching up to grab his arm and pull him back.

➮ He puts you on your back and cages you between his arms. “That’s what I thought, you're just my needy little slut aren’t you,” He chuckled, the sound of his breathy laughter making you rub your thighs together in pleasure. “I am” You whimper pulling him down for kisses. You yelp as he flips you on your stomach and roughly squeezes your ass while kissing your neck and back. Anakin’s a sloppy messy bitch and decides to lick up your spine and make you squirm first. “Ass up,” He says firmly. You shift positions gently and he gives you a few hard spanks making you moan.

➮ “God you’re so easy,” He tells you grabbing your hips and pushing his hard cock inside of you. “You just love all this attention don’t you, is that why you flirt with these creeps? You’re an attention whore huh?” He asked. You stay silent and he grabs a handful of your hair tugging you upward and keeping your back to his chest. “Answer me” He whispers biting your earlobe. “Yes” Is all you whisper wiggling your hips desperate for him to move. “Please Ani” You continue before he lets you go and starts fucking you at a merciless pace letting out his pent-up anger on your tight pussy.

➮ You’re whining into a pillow moaning at how deep he is inside of you. Anakin’s hands gripping your hips, his cold metal hand probably leaving marks. “You like it when I fuck you, dumb sweetheart, I bet your boyfriend couldn’t make you feel this good” Anakin grins in your ear. “H-He’s not my b-b-boyfriend” You stutter barely being able to speak from pleasure. “I’m the only person that can turn you into such a dumb cock drunk whore” Anakin continues his dirty talk the whole time.

➮Then he reaches down and grabs your throat pulling you back into him. You let out a loud moan at the angle change and he’s holding you up tight against him while he’s fucking you. “Ani” You whimper and he gently squeezed your airway closed. “Good girl taking me so fucking well” He rasped. He lets go of your throat he uses that hand to play with your clit. “Tell me who owns this pretty little cunt baby” His sadistic grin is crazyyy. “You do Anakin! You” “Mhm yeah I do”

➮ “Please l-let me cum Ani I promise I’m yours all yours” You moan before he flips you on your back. Anakin loves the sight of you all messy and sweaty desperate for his dick. “Good girl, you are mine. You don’t need anyone else” He continues fucking back into you causing you to start scratching his back. “I’ll make sure they all fucking know your mine” He groans leaning down to suck the biggest, purple hickeys across your neck to get his point across. “Cum on my cock sweetheart,” He says licking across the marks. “Anakin! Oh, fuck Anakin” You moan coming undone around him quivering in ecstasy. “Mhm, baby I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, get you all p-pregnant with my child. No one will ever touch you if you see you big and fucking swollen with my baby” He growls before finishing deep inside of you.

➮ Afterwards he goes all soft on you. “I love you so much” He whispers so softly making you grin at his sudden change in tone. “You know that?” He asks. “Course I do…I love you too” Laying beside you he smiles and presses the softest kisses to your face. “Y’know I don’t mean any of that right?” He makes sure. “I know, it’s fun” You grin squeezing his bicep. “Let me get you cleaned up pretty girl” He grins.

➮ He’s quickly cleaning you up and getting you a cold glass of water. Eventually, you’re just cuddled up to his chest as he strokes your hair. “I’m sorry for getting so jealous. I just hate seeing other guys talk to you like that. I know you can handle yourself…I just like protecting you” He blushes. “It’s okay, I like how possessive you are Skywalker. It’s cute” “I’m not possessive, I just love you” Anakin whispers kissing your temple making you giggle. He he fully believes with his whole heart he is not possessive, but like bro he so is “Don’t laugh at me” He grins kissing his cheek. “Love you Ani…m’all yours,” You say softly. “I’m all yours too” Anakin replies pecking your lips once more.

#anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin smut #anakin headcanons #anakin fic #anakin x you #anakin x reader #ani wani #tcw anakin #jealous anakin #anakin angst #star wars fic #star wars smut #sw prequels

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dystopicjumpsuit · 6 months

Text

No Sleep Till Coruscant

A/N: Written for the lovely @kimiheartblade. You know what you did 💙💙💙

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader (reader has insomnia and hair that is long enough to pin up)

Rating: M (minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3k (Look, this was supposed to be 500 words. I had to stop somewhere. If people enjoy it, I’ll write another chapter.)

Warnings and tags: fluff; a little awkwardness/secondhand embarrassment; bumps up against consent issues due to power dynamics (Rex is the ranking officer, but the reader makes the first move and definitely wants this); SMUT with feelings; hair touching; talk of masturbation; heavy petting; suggestive dialogue; Rex touches the reader’s neck and throat, but there is no choking

Summary: You can’t sleep. You ask Rex to help you relax.

Suggested listening:

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“Can’t sleep?” The deep, familiar voice rumbled close to your ear, and you knew without looking who it belonged to. He may have shared a voice with millions of other clones, but his was the only one that made your skin prickle with awareness.

You tore your eyes away from the Venator viewport as your captain stepped up next to you. You hadn’t even heard his approach, and his ability to move in total stealth while wearing half his body weight in armor and kama never failed to amaze you. His dark eyes traced your features a little too observantly, and you shook your head without speaking, turning back to the viewport and hoping he hadn’t been able to read your expression too closely.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

“No more than usual,” you replied with a shrug. “I’ve never been very good at sleeping.”

“I guess we all have our faults,” he smiled. “I was wondering what yours was.”

“I suppose there are worse fatal flaws than insomnia.”

His lips quirked in a tiny smile, and he turned toward the viewport to gaze with you at the hypnotic blue swirl of hyperspace. After a few moments, he spoke again, quietly.

“Probably easier to fall asleep if you’re actually in your bunk instead of standing on the bridge hours after your shift ends.”

“Probably,” you acknowledged.

“Do I have to make it an order?”

You smiled. “I wish it were that easy. You could just comm me before bed every night and order me to go to sleep, and I’d have no choice but to comply. Insomnia cured by the power of the legendary Captain Rex.”

He turned his head minutely, and even without seeing it, you could feel his scrutiny. “Worth a try. Come on. I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

It wasn’t a request, so you fell into step next to him as the two of you proceeded down the silent halls of the Venator. You didn’t speak at first, content to walk with him in companionable silence. The majority of the ship was on sleep cycle, and the few troopers you passed merely nodded and continued about their business.

“What’s your excuse—”

“Got plans for shore—”

You and Rex spoke at the same moment, then stopped abruptly with quiet laughs.

“After you, Captain,” you said.

“Just wondering if you had plans when we get back to Coruscant for shore leave,” he said.

“Probably going to lie awake and wish I could sleep for most of it,” you admitted. “You?”

“I don’t think you quite grasp the ‘rest’ half of R & R,” he observed.

“Right, because you’re one to talk, Captain ‘Duty Never Sleeps,’” you teased.

“I never said that,” Rex objected.

“But you’re probably saving it to drop on the next batch of shinies they bring us, aren’t you?”

His chuckle was so quiet you barely heard it. “What were you going to ask?”

“I was just curious what your excuse was for being awake in the middle of the sleep cycle,” you said.

“Duty never sleeps,” he said solemnly.

“I walked right into that, didn't I?” you laughed, allowing yourself the tiny indulgence of nudging him with your shoulder. Not that it did you any good; you couldn't even feel him beneath the cold plastoid armor, and all you got for your effort was a sore shoulder.

Far too quickly, you reached your quarters, pausing outside the door. You didn't want to go inside, if you were honest with yourself. There was nothing in that room except an empty bed and four empty, gray walls that stared back at you through every endless, agonizing hour that you lay awake. Rex, too, seemed unsure of what to do now that you'd reached your destination. He fidgeted subtly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked on impulse. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you hastened to add, “For safety, you know. If you order me to go to sleep, and it actually works, it would probably be best if I'm close to the bunk. That way I don't fall and hit my head or something…”

You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“Good point,” he said, his eyes flicking almost imperceptibly down to your lips. “Wouldn't want to have a medical emergency.”

“Kix would never forgive us for the extra paperwork,” you agreed, keying in your door code and motioning him into the room.

As the door slid shut behind you, Rex asked, “Speaking of Kix, have you talked to him about your trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. He gave me some pills that made me wake up in the morning with no memory of walking to the mess hall and making a grilled cheese sandwich while the cooking droid yelled at me for entering a restricted zone. I never bothered to try them again.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Rex said dryly. “How was the sandwich?”

“Apparently I threw it in the trash without tasting it. Damned waste of cheese, if you ask me.”

“If it was GAR cheese, you did the galaxy a service,” he said.

“When can I expect my commendation?” you asked.

“Best I can do is a heartfelt thank you.”

Your eyes crinkled with amusement, and Rex smiled, looking rather adorably pleased with himself at having made you laugh. You scrambled for a clever reply, but nothing came to mind, and the silence stretched out until it became awkward.

At last, you managed, “I'd offer you a seat, but the only option is the bunk.”

Rex looked away. “I should probably go, anyway. Will you be able to sleep?”

Suddenly possessed by unprecedented audacity, you murmured, “If I say no, will you sing me a lullaby?”

Rex drew in a quiet breath and stepped closer to you. “How often is it like this for you? How often do you lie awake, tossing and turning?”

“Every night,” you confessed.

“And what do you usually do when you can't sleep?” Something shifted in his tone, his words coming out low and husky.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your dry lips, and this time, there was no mistaking the way his eyes dropped to your mouth.

“I—I'm not sure I should say,” you rasped.

He dragged his gaze away from your lips at last, looking up into your eyes. “You can trust me.”

“I know.”

“Then… Will you tell me?” he asked.

“Sometimes, I take matters into my own hands.”

His eyes locked with yours, his gaze sharp and intense. “You…”

You nodded. “Sometimes it works.”

“When was the last time it worked?” His words were quiet and rough, his eyes dark as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“Last night,” you admitted breathlessly. “Probably why there's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight.”

“What did you do?” he whispered.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, you began, “If I describe it to you, will you—”

His eyes widened as you paused, tongue-tied. “Do you want me to… Touch you? The way you tell me?”

You nodded, your entire body feeling like it was aflame. Hearing him put it so bluntly, you understood the magnitude of your suggestion. This was such a mistake. What was I thinking?! Asking a superior officer to—to—Asking Rex—Rex! Of all people—to touch me like that! I must finally be losing my mind.

Before you could backpedal, though, he slowly pulled off his gloves and dropped them on your nightstand. Your breath shuddered to a halt as you realized you'd never seen his hands without gloves before. In fact, this was the most exposed you'd ever seen the captain: helmet and gloves removed, yet still covered in armor. You felt like a swooning maiden in some overwrought period holodrama, having a fit of the vapours at the tiniest sliver of skin.

“How did you start?” he asked, stepping forward into your space.

Force, has he always been this big? You felt acutely conscious of the bulk of his armor, his pauldrons so broad that it seemed like all you could see was white and blue plastoid. When you met his eyes, though, you saw something else: a searing heat that burned away all your doubts—a hunger that made your blood race in your veins.

“I started with my hair,” you replied, your voice noticeably hoarse.

He moved slowly and very deliberately, raising his hand to the back of your head. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as he carefully and meticulously removed every single pin holding your hair in its tidy, regulation bun. You felt your hair loosen as he pulled them out one at a time, making sure not to drop any, and when he finished, he set them in a neat pile next to his gloves on your nightstand.

He threaded his fingers into your hair, combing out the remnants of your bun, until your hair tumbled freely down around your face. He touched the locks gently, not tugging on them in the slightest: simply feeling the texture and brushing them softly out of your eyes.

“What did you do next?” he asked in a low voice.

“I touched my face. My cheeks,” you whispered, “and my lips.”

He tucked your hair back carefully before his fingers grazed your skin. The first brush of skin on skin was electric, and you stifled a gasp. His thumb traced the line of your cheekbone as his fingertips curved under your jaw. His touch was light and gentle, his hand blissfully warm in contrast with the cool, recycled air of the starship, and you swayed slightly closer to him, leaning your face into the sensation.

He trailed his thumb down the line of your cheek until he reached the corner of your mouth. Your breath sped up slightly as you felt the calloused pad of his thumb brush over your lips, followed by two of his fingertips.

“Your lips are so soft,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on your mouth.

You brushed your tongue lightly across his fingertips, tempting him to slide them deeper between your lips. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped them into your mouth as you swirled your tongue over them. He rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning softly over your skin. He raised his other hand to caress your cheek, his gaze fixed on you with an expression of pure fascination.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and traced them over your lips once again. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he took a ragged, shuddering breath and spoke again.

“Keep going. Describe it to me. What next?”

“Next—” the word was inaudible, and you paused to search for your voice. “Next, I touched my throat. Softly. And very slowly.”

The warmth of his fingers as they traversed the short distance from your jaw to the collar of your uniform sent shivers racing across your skin.

“May I?” he asked as he reached the opening of your collar.

You nodded your permission, and he unzipped your jacket with his other hand, the pressure of his knuckles barely palpable on your torso as they descended the line of the zipper. Instead of immediately tugging off the garment, though, he simply continued to stroke and caress your neck, drawing his fingers down from the corner of your jaw to the notch above your sternum.

“After that, I… I traced my collarbones,” you whispered.

His fingers slid beneath your uniform to run along the ridge of your clavicle as his thumb rested against the base of your throat.

“What did that feel like?” he asked quietly.

You shuddered. “Good. It felt… good. But not as good as when you do it.”

At last he slid the jacket off your shoulders, leaving you in only your camisole. His eyes flickered down to your chest, and he swallowed audibly as he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. “What did you do after that?”

“I brushed my fingertips down the center of my chest,” you murmured. “Between my breasts, but I didn’t touch them yet.”

His lips curved into a small smile as his fingers followed the line of your sternum until they reached the silky fabric of your camisole.

“Is this regulation?” he asked in a lightly teasing tone.

“No,” you admitted. “Are you going to write me up?”

“I’m sure the general would be very interested in how exactly I knew that your underwear was out of reg,” he said with a quiet huff of laughter. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice from betraying the fact that you thought you might actually die if he stopped touching you now.

Is it possible to die of frustrated lust? GAR lieutenant investigates. More at eleven.

Rex dipped his fingers lower, beneath the satin camisole, as his thumb traced over the plush swell of your breast.

“Is this how you touched yourself?” His voice was low and gravelly, with no trace of laughter lingering in it.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Just like that.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he must be able to feel it as he trailed his hands over your soft, delicate skin. His eyes were fixed on your body, pupils dilated wide with arousal.

“And what did you do next?”

“I think you can guess,” you replied, heat rising in your face.

He leaned close and whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending a wave of tingles down your spine. “Indulge me.”

You inhaled sharply. “Next… Next I touched my breasts—I cupped them in my hands and played with them.”

Rex froze. His hand stilled, resting against your sternum. Even his breath paused momentarily. He whispered your name, his lips barely brushing the silky skin of your neck.

“Rex,” you murmured in a low, husky tone. “Touch me.”

He dropped his head lower, his lips almost making contact with your shoulder, but he hovered a breath away from you. Both of his hands settled on your ribcage and slid up beneath your breasts, tracing your contours, before finally cupping your breasts through your camisole, squeezing you gently, capturing your nipples between his fingers and teasing them until they were stiff and aching with pleasure.

“Like this?” he asked, his harsh whisper hot against your skin.

You arched up, desperate to feel his mouth on your body, but he held that tiny distance between the two of you. “God, yes, just like that.”

He slid his hand down your abdomen until he reached your hip. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your camisole to tease the soft skin of your belly, and then curled beneath your waistband as he dragged his knuckles over your hip.

“What were you thinking about when you touched yourself here?”

You dropped your head to his shoulder, burying your face against his neck, not wanting him to see the truth in your eyes.

“Tell me,” he said. His voice was soft, but every instinct you possessed screamed to obey his command.

“You.”

The word was quiet—barely a breath—but you might as well have screamed it. Rex’s reaction was immediate and overwhelming. The hand that still held your breast released you, and his arm clamped around your body. His fingers tightened on your waistband and pulled you hard against him as he finally, finally kissed you. Lips, tongue, teeth descended on your shoulder, worked up your neck and across your jaw, leaving a trail of heated sensation in his wake.

When he reached your lips, he devoured you with all the passion he’d been holding back with such meticulous self-control. His kiss was everything you’d imagined for months. It swept over you like a wave, scattering your thoughts and making your head spin as his tongue slipped between your parted lips. He released your waistband and glided his hand beneath your camisole, up your bare abdomen, to palm your naked breast as he kissed and kissed and kissed you, until there was only one coherent thought in your mind: Is this really happening?

You clung to him, fingers gripping plastoid. You’d wanted Rex for so long, and now that you had him, it almost didn’t feel real. The thought galvanized you. You broke away just long enough to yank the camisole off over your head, dropping it to lie in a crumpled heap on the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back into your kiss. His armor bit uncomfortably into your exposed skin, but you didn’t care; you were practically climbing him, frantic for contact.

“Wait,” he rasped.

“Seriously?!”

He laughed at your impatience. “Seriously. I haven’t waited all this time to rush it now.”

Your breath caught at the implication: he’d wanted this just as much as you had. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked pointedly.

“You’re my captain—” you began.

“And you’re my lieutenant,” he replied.

Ah. Solid point.

“You’ve—you’ve been waiting for me to make the first move?” you asked. “This whole time?”

“Since the minute you came aboard.”

“Damn,” you said, struck. “Are you sure I should be working in intelligence? I completely missed the signs.”

“In fairness, stealth is one one of—”

You cut him off abruptly with a kiss. You slid your hands over the back of his head, stroking the soft, velvety, close-cropped blond hair. His groan of pleasure rumbled against your lips, sending a jolt of arousal through your entire body.

“Captain?” you whispered.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he murmured, nuzzling your face gently.

“Permission to remove your armor, sir?”

“Kriff, don’t call me that,” he begged. “But also yes. Please.”

You went to work quickly, helping him unbuckle and strip off the heavy plastoid.

“Not a fan of being called ‘sir’ in the bedroom?” you asked curiously.

“Just don’t need to be reminded that we’re breaking about forty-two regulations right now.”

You shot him a look brimming with mischief. “We’re going to break a lot more before we get to Coruscant.”

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