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the-bad-batch-baroness · 13 hours

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Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Fem!Reader

Part 10

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Fem!Reader

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Comet, Sinker, Boost, Plo Koon

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, reader is not the spouse, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: Things are still crazy right now, but I am managing. Thank you to everyone who has reached out. I appreciate it! This is another transitional chapter. Not much happens, other than the plot moving forward. You know, the meaning of "filler episode" really changes when you write 😅 The chapter isn't exciting or emotional, but it's still important to the overall plot and contains context for future chapters. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

The ride over to the Jedi Temple is quiet once Cara settles on Wolffe's lap. Most children fall asleep to the lull of a moving ship or speeder, and Cara is no exception. Wolffe doesn't mind, though. He prefers her to be asleep and peaceful than awake and chaotic. She's been through enough already, and yet, the tragedy is nowhere near over. Not by a long shot. Deep down he knows the funeral is going to rip off every band-aid he and the others have meticulously placed.

They can lie, dance around the truth, replace facts with illusion, and carefully craft misdirection, but at the end of the day, they can't hide it forever. The pain is painted across all of their faces. A grim truth they all know but refuse to acknowledge, even for Wolffe. No one wants to speak it aloud out of fear that maybe, just maybe, if they don't say it, it won't happen. But while trying to conceal it from Cara, they have disillusioned themselves with their own blank stares and frowns.

Wolffe stares out the window and watches as other speeders fly by, lost in his thoughts about the future. Not many clones think about the future, because it's not in their brain chemistry to look beyond anything other than their immediate present, but that changed for Wolffe after he met his wife. There was a moment where it felt like he unlocked a part of his brain. The part that wants to survive and thrive, instead of fight and die. It's a fleeting feeling, but there nonetheless.

He's wondering, not only about the funeral, but what comes after. What will he do when he gets a new assignment? He can't stay on Coruscant forever. No clone can. Wolffe scoffs at his own thoughts and corrects himself. In reality, the only clones who can stay on Coruscant forever are the Coruscant Guard. At this moment, Wolffe thinks they're lucky, even if they don't. Fox would kill to be back on the battlefield, and Wolffe would trade his command with Fox’s in a heartbeat.

However, Fox has his own life to lead and his own things to worry about on Coruscant. This is just how life is for the clones. It's a luck of the draw in who gets to be a commander and who gets stationed where. To the Republic, all clones are the same, so it shouldn't matter what clones go where, but to the clones, sometimes, it does matter. Clones who haven't been around long enough don't understand, and those who have, don't live long enough after they find out.

Wolffe is pulled from his thoughts when they arrive at the Jedi Temple. He peers out the window at the towering structure and breathes deep as he feels his heart rate increase. He's never been enthralled with the Jedi like other clones; finding their religion strange and their battle tactics even stranger. Perhaps it's the deep-seeded Mandalorian genes coursing through his veins that makes him wary of the so-called peacekeepers, even if Rex tries to convince him otherwise.

The only Jedi Wolffe remotely likes or cares about is his own. General Plo Koon saved him, Boost's, and Sinker's lives, and for that he owes him his undying loyalty. The rest he disregards. He serves them as he should, like any good soldier who follows orders, but that doesn't mean he has to like them or worship them. It's the Jedi that caused him to lose his first battalion, even though he alone received the demerits for it, much to his general's disgruntled displeasure.

To stand at the precipice of the Jedi Temple with the intent to leave his beloved daughter in the care of these Force-wielding wizards that aren't his general makes his skin crawl. Even with his disdain for the Jedi, it's still better than the alternative of Cara entering the foster care system, or even worse, being left in the care of her grandparents. That thought alone makes Wolffe bristle. At least with this arrangement, he can come and go within the Jedi Temple without explanation.

"Do you want to put your armor on?" Comet asks from across Wolffe.

Wolffe moves his gaze from the window to look down at Cara, who's still asleep in his lap, and then up at Comet. "Whenever I put my armor on, she thinks I'm leaving."

"Understood," Comet nods. "I'll have Aug– Warthog lug it to your new quarters."

Wolffe chuckles.

"I'll grab a box," Sinker says as he exits the speeder.

"I'll grab the other box," Boost says as he also exits the speeder.

Comet, Cara, and Wolffe are left alone in the speeder and Wolffe isn't keen on moving.

"You really don't want to do this, do you?" Comet asks.

"Would you?" Wolffe retorts, his disdain bleeding through. "Would you leave your kid with strangers? With Jedi?"

"It's not that bad," Comet says.

Wolffe huffs and looks back out the window. "You'll never understand."

"Guess not," Comet sighs. "I'll probably die before I fall in love and have a kid like you did."

Wolffe snaps his gaze back to Comet and glares at him. "Don't get insubordinate with me, Trooper."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Comet says before leaving the speeder.

Wolffe tilts his head back against the top of the seat and groans. He is such an idiot. Even after everything Comet did for him following his wife's death, everything he did for Cara, Wolffe still has the audacity to bite at him like he's some random shiny that stepped out of line. Pathetic. At least he continues to live up to his namesake, whether he's proud of it or not, because when you corner a wolf, it will lash out. He needs to get his fears, anxieties, and his temper under control.

"Daddy?" Cara says sleepily as she stirs on his lap.

Wolffe tilts his head back down and smiles. "Hi, baby."

Cara whines. "I wanna sleep."

Wolffe picks her up so she's sitting on his legs instead of laying on them, much to her protest. "Not yet. We need to get settled in our new room first, then you can have a nap."

Cara whines and wriggles against Wolffe.

"I know," Wolffe soothes as he exits the speeder and sits her on his hip. "Daddy wants a nap too, but can you stay awake for me for a little longer?"

Cara groans and moves restlessly in Wolffe's grasp.

"Close enough," Wolffe sighs.

Wolffe carries Cara towards the edge of the stairway leading up to the Jedi Temple, where his general and men are waiting for him. He grips her tightly in his arms, afraid that at any moment someone is going to rip her out of his arms and he'll never see her again. It's not an entirely irrational fear. The Jedi take children away from their parents all of the time. What makes his daughter so different from those children? What if he leaves her here and never gets her back?

"Calm yourself, Commander," Plo says when he senses Wolffe's trepidation through the Force. "There are no enemies within these walls, only the enemies we bring in from within ourselves."

Wolffe heeds his general's words of wisdom and steadies himself. He stares up at the daunting, stone stairway, takes a deep breath, and releases it slowly. He's as ready as he will ever be, and he hasn't even gotten to the hard part yet. Nevertheless, he steps forward, and his men step forward with him in solidarity. A silent march up the Jedi Temple steps towards a new normal. A terrifying new normal, for both him and Cara, and this is only the beginning of it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @sun-roach @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @moonwrecked @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @cw80831 @ca77m3anna @reader6898 @kimiheartblade @dukeoftheblackstar @arc-trooper-8008 @knightprincess @kell-of-storms @skellymom @grindeeloo @totallyunidentified @ladylucksrogue @tesahuy1629 @tanaka @gjrain20-starwars @roboticsuccubus83 @totally-not-your-babe @rinwritesfics @t3mpest98 @asyas-daydreaming @vithe-potato @haybellewrites @unicorngirl17

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clonesuperiority · 1 month

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I'm using my recent TBB osession to draw my clone ocs for the first time in forever again (Since I haven't named them yet: These are Kick, Boxer and Isle - finally cleaned up)

I have been reading some clone x reader fanfics (share some with me pls I love them gsjvkfgsf) and lets say ... I have been noticing a pattern in regard of the ... bathrooms in Clone Bar 79 ...

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freesia-writes · 2 months

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Am I gonna start something for every day of the week? Not that I'm aware of, LOL. But let's give this a try? Maybe I'll alternate fanfic and fanart... Or make a separate day. Who knows.

Fanfic Authors: What are you CURRENTLY working on (choose ONE, haha) and what's your favorite part about it?

Don't be shy, share a link! 🤓

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starwarsalltypesoflove · 3 months

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SW - ALL TYPES OF LOVE WEEK

INFO

Star Wars: All Types of Love week is a fandom event of fancreations, lasting a week, that celebrates love in its many forms! Since we celebrate romantic love and familial love often, we thought it might be time to give an opportunity for other kinds of love to shine!

Inspired by the Ancient Greek Philosophers and their seven kinds of love, we aim to showcase those different, less celebrated loves. Rooting for the little guys!

HOW TO PARTICIPATE

No sign-up, nothing. Just create!!!

Post during the appropriate week and you’re good!

We welcome any kind of creation, as long as it is truly yours. Even old posts being reblogged is fine! Old creations deserve as much love as new ones.

Fanfics, fanarts, moodboards, fanvids, fancomics, banners, playlists… An epic fic or a 100 word drabble, an amazing painting or a stick figures funny scene- we love it all!!

WHEN TO POST

Wednesday 7th of February, 00h00 PST, to Wednesday 14th of February, 23h59 PST.

HOW TO POST

Post under the tag SWATOLW during the week the event is running. Add the tag of the type of love you are representing.

Be sure to @ us so we can appreciate what you’ve made and put it in the round-up!

WHAT TO POST

Star Wars characters, places, animals, games… Be it from the movies, the novels, the comics, the shows like The Clone Wars, The Mandalorian, Andor or even your own OC, the important parts are:

It must be from the Star Wars fandom

It must be about Love and that love must be not romantic or familial

To get a better idea of what we mean by that, you can read more about the seven types of love here. In short, we want to give a chance to shine to:

Love of Friends #philia

Love of Strangers #agape

Love of Partners #pragma

Love of Players #ludus

Love of Self #philautia

You can post about any of these, at any time of the week. There isn’t a day assigned to each type. The point is to create without pressure and celebrate all the types of love we don’t often focus on! The more of these you depict, the more we will love you for it!

QUESTIONS

“I love my two clones who are bffs, but they are clones. Does their love count as familial?”

Well, the truth rather depends on your point of view how you present it.

Pairs like Fives and Echo, and Rex and Cody, are usually understood in canon and fandom to be family. They can be friends too, but we’d prefer to focus on other pairs for this event. Post another time. We’re sure people will love it.

Alpha-17 and Cody have a cross-generational friendship? As long as the way their relationship is described/shown isn’t the dynamic of big brother & younger brother, or father figure & son figure, it’s good!

Want to show off Waxer & Boil being two peas in a pod? We would love that! As long as it isn’t a ship or they, the characters, don’t feel like the other is kin in the way we understand it.

“I want to show my two Mandalorians who are Partners In Bounty Hunting, but they are from the same clan. Does this work?”

No. I’m sorry, but it does not. We consider clan to be the SW equivalent of immediate family, a close circle, so it’s not the right event for this. But it does work if they are just from the same house or faction!

“Can I do two Jedi who are teammates and lovers?”

You can show any characters (two, three, four…) having a relationship that is sexual and based on love. As long as that love is not romantic.

If what moves your Jedi is the sense of purpose found in duty, the common love for the Light and the wider galaxy, the playfulness and affection shared between bed partners, these feelings can be as big as the moon, and it is still fine!

That is the whole point!

Feelings can be enormous and serious and important and still not be romantic or familial.

But if it’s shown or implied that the relationship is romantic/familial or turning so at some point, that is not what our event is focused on.

We know people are a bit tired from the holidays and that Valentine’s Day is a period often rich with events, which is why we put these conditions so it can be as low-pressure as possible. The point is to rejoice in all the breadth and the richness of the human sentient experience of love. In the love of Star Wars. And in the love of this community.

Be civil and show goodwill to participants and spectators. Be kind. YKINMKATO. Go crazy! Be creative! Have fun!

Love!

@swfandomevents

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meerlichts · 21 days

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A Stranger On Coruscant

summary:

"I'm not going back," Fox hisses.

"Sweetheart, you don't really have much of a choice in the matter," Quinlan says. "Your mind has been messed with. You quite literally need to talk to us."

"I don't think my mind has been messed with," Fox says. After a moment he adds: "Why aren't they taking Thire?"

"Thire told us everything he knew already. You're the only one staying loyal to the old fuck."

"The Chancellor is a good man," Fox says. "You wouldn't understand."

Quinlan raises an eyebrow.

Or: Quinlan Vos discovers that the Chancellor may be affiliated with the Separatists. This doesn't make anything better for Fox.

Note: this fic IS entirely written and I’ll post one chapter a week, starting with the first real chapter March 30th, then every Saturday after that!

#meer writes #there. my child. out in the wild #wipes tear. they grow up so fast #commander fox #commander fox fic #what were the star wars tags again. i dont go here anymore #clone commander fox #star wars the clone wars #tcw fic #erm. ok thats it

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bananasofthorns · 5 months

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lunch break

read on ao3

In a rare stroke of luck - or, more accurately, bureaucratic alignment - Cody has leave at the same time as Wolffe, and they manage to talk Fox into taking a break for once in his life to join them for lunch.

Cody also uses the opportunity to finally make good on his promise to Kenobi to introduce him to his batchmates in a non-professional setting - Dex’s, in this case. He hasn’t yet decided if he’s going to regret this decision. Wolffe already knows Kenobi, to an extent, and they at least seem to like each other. Cody thinks that Fox and Kenobi will either despise each other or get along like a LAAT on fire, on fire part emphasized. Reason: they are both pains in Cody’s ass and he, unfortunately, still loves them.

He and Kenobi arrive at Dex’s early and claim a booth in the back; they sit across from each other and Kenobi allows Cody the seat that faces the door, since he has the Force and Cody just has paranoia. Wolffe arrives a minute or two late grumbling about traffic. Cody graciously does not make fun of him for being unable to account the hell that is getting anywhere on Coruscant into his travel times.

They make small talk - about the war, of course, because what else do any of them do with their lives - while waiting for Fox. After ten minutes without even a hint of his presence, Kenobi orders them a large basket of fries. Cody gets himself a milkshake and then resigns himself to the losing battle of keeping Wolffe away from his straw.

Wolffe could ask Dex for his own straw, or even his own milkshake. He does not, because Wolffe is an ori’vod and a bastard. Cody respects Dex too much to start a fight in his diner, but he resolves to make Wolffe spar with him once they’re back in the barracks.

It hits minute fifteen with no sign of Fox. Cody shares a look with Wolffe. They reach for their comms in sync.

If Fox does not respond to their pestering by the time it reaches minute twenty, they will write him off as a lost cause and enjoy lunch without him.

Minute eighteen arrives. There is no response to either of their messages, but there is a flash of familiar red through the windows of the diner’s door. Two flashes, in fact. Cody raises an eyebrow.

Fox and another Coruscant Guard commander that Cody doesn’t recognize slip into the diner with surprising stealth, given that they’re in full armor and there’s a bell above the door. Cody scrutinizes them as they approach.

They’re both limping, though the unfamiliar commander only slightly; Fox’s is much more pronounced even as he tries to hide it. When he reaches their booth, he lifts his arm gingerly to remove his helmet.

Wolffe greets him with, “What the fuck happened to you?”

This is a fair question. There is a large bandage plastered across the right half of Fox’s face, stretching from just beneath his eye to his chin. The rest of his visible skin is so bruised it looks like he went hand-to-hand with a commando droid.

“He got mugged,” the unfamiliar commander offers when Fox stays silent. “I’m Thire, by the way.”

Thire takes the seat beside Kenobi and leaves Fox to the fate of sitting next to Wolffe. He has a mullet, but he makes it look good, so Cody doesn’t hold it against him.

Fox sits, reluctantly, and finally graces them all with the deadpan scrape of his voice. “He’s my babysitter.”

Thire’s smile is as sharp and bright as a vibroblade in sunlight. “Yes. Sorry for joining your lunch without notice - we had to make sure Fox wouldn’t get into any more fights along the way.”

“This was not my fault,” Fox growls.

It is, obviously, an old argument. Kenobi interrupts before it can begin again.

“We’re happy to have you,” he says. “Have you been to Dex’s before?”

Thire blinks at him. He does not comment on the unusual presence of a Jedi in their midst, unlike Fox had, many times, when Cody had first broached the topic. Even now, Fox does not seem very pleased that Kenobi is here.

“I’ve had his food a few times,” Thire responds, which is a non-answer. Cody has become very good at noticing them in his time working as Kenobi’s right hand. “It’s good. This is the real reason I went with you,” he tells Fox.

Fox, eloquent as ever, flips him off.

Dex arrives to take their orders. He greets Fox and Thire with familiarity and does not comment on Fox’s injuries.

When he leaves again, Wolffe keeps the ensuing quiet from stretching into awkwardness by turning to Fox and saying, “I'm serious, vod. What in the depths did you do?”

Fox waves a hand. “Blacked out. Woke up on the lower levels. Got jumped. They got in a few lucky hits,” he gestures to his face, “before I killed them.”

“Just a normal Centaxday, really,” Thire adds faux-cheerfully. “What about you guys? What have you been up to? Besides the war, of course.”

The change of topic is not graceful. Cody exchanges a look with Kenobi. Kenobi raises an eyebrow. Cody raises one back: no, it is not normal for Fox to show up looking awful - this awful, at least. Something bigger is going on here.

“You blacked out?” he asks for both of them.

“It's fine,” Fox dismisses. “Happens to everyone at some point, right?”

He is full of shit and he knows it. Cody tells him so.

More diplomatically, Kenobi adds, “I am curious by what exactly that turn of phrase means, at least in this instance. I’m sure you weren’t drunk, but just to be clear—”

Thire laughs. Fox sighs. “I was not drunk.”

The two of them look at each other and proceed to have a conversation that consists entirely of facial expressions. Gone are the days when Cody could do that with his batchmates; they don’t spend enough time together now, and the only people he can read that well anymore are Rex and Kenobi. He has no idea what Fox and Thire are saying to each other.

Finally, Fox says, casually, “I’ve been losing time since about six months into the war.”

All of Cody’s attention snaps to him. The war has now been ongoing for over two years. This is not what he was expecting to hear at all; Fox has never even hinted at it before.

“Ah,” Kenobi says delicately.

“And you’re just mentioning this now?” Wolffe asks with far less grace.

“Well, I kind of hoped the problem would go away on its own,” Fox shoots back dryly. “Clearly, that didn’t happen.

“I started losing time six months into the war,” he starts again. “A few hours, a day. A few days.”

“The worst one was over a week,” Thire inputs quietly. Fox acknowledges him with another dip of his head.

“Every time, I’d wake up somewhere on Coruscant, usually in the lower levels, with no idea how I got there. If I had all of my gear still on me, it was lucky, and if I was uninjured, it was even luckier. After a few months, I realized I wasn’t the only one this was happening to.”

“It’s all of the commanders,” Thire explains. “Fox and I have them the most often, followed by Thorn. Stone only gets them rarely.”

“So that’s why you look so bad,” Wolffe surmises.

Fox chuckles, low. “Yeah. Woke up way further down than I should’ve been with half my armor gone and in the middle of some natborns kicking the shit out of my body.” He scoffs. “They should’ve made sure I was dead first.”

Cody, Wolffe, and Kenobi all grimace, though the latter’s expression is likely for very different reasons.

“You said you killed them to get away?” he asks. “How many of them were there?”

Fox frowns. “Not sure; it was all kind of a blur, and my memories are always shit after blackouts, anyway. Five, give or take.”

“And you killed them,” Kenobi repeats. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

Wolffe shakes his head, somewhere between fond and amused. “Of course you did, Fox’ika.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fox and I were the top of the entire command class on Kamino,” Cody explains for Kenobi’s benefit. And, as much as he hates to admit it, “He graduated with the highest score in hand-to-hand combat sims.”

At peak condition, a handful of natborns would be laughably easy for him to take down. This time, he was injured and disoriented and obviously paid the price, but Cody still isn’t the least bit surprised that he came out of that fight on top.

“I see,” Kenobi says, nodding. “You must be a very formidable fighter.”

Fox smirks. Somehow, it just makes him look tired. “I am.”

There’s a rumble of that old, bitter anger in his voice. He hadn’t been happy to find out he’d been assigned to Coruscant instead of the frontlines they’d all trained for their entire lives. Clearly, his opinion has not improved.

Wolffe clears his throat. “Do you know what’s causing the blackouts? Because they sound a little fucked up, vod.”

Thire and Fox exchange a look.

“Well,” Fox says, and then does not elaborate.

“We have...theories.” Thire glances around and lowers his voice. “As far as we can tell, the blackouts only happen after one of us has a meeting with the Chancellor.”

Well, indeed.

Dex sweeps over with their food. They all gratefully take the excuse to process what was just said. Kenobi looks like he’s bitten into something sour, but the expression fades as he takes the first bite of his nerfburger.

In the awkward conversation lull that’s arisen, Thire adds, “I think Palpatine is a Sith.”

Cody jerks his head up and stares. Kenobi chokes.

“Oh?” he manages, strangled.

Wolffe recovers first. “That’s a pretty fucking big accusation.”

Thire shrugs. He and Fox are both eating like they’re starving; Cody takes another, closer look at them and notes the sharpness of their cheekbones. A warning bell pings belatedly in his head.

Kenobi has recovered his dignity. “Yes, it is. I assume you have evidence, or at least suspicions, to back it up?”

“I’ve been around Sith before,” Thire explains between bites. “I was there on Rugosa when General Yoda stopped Ventress from assassinating the Toydarian king. I know what they feel like. The Chancellor feels the same way.”

Kenobi’s raised eyebrow betrays his incredulity. “Forgive me for presuming, but as far as I’m aware, none of the clones are Force-sensitive.”

“This is true.”

“So how is it that you can sense the Dark side on Chancellor Palpatine when none of the Jedi ever have?”

“Maybe he doesn’t bother shielding himself around us,” Fox mutters. He doesn’t look up from his food even when everyone’s attention swings to him. “Trust me, he drops all his other facades, too.”

Thire scoffs. “Yeah. He hates us and he’s not subtle about it. Stone jokes that he’s getting off on our misery.”

He seems to remember who he’s talking to and grimaces. “Uh. Sorry, sir.”

Kenobi does not seem to register the apology and has abandoned his food entirely, lost in thought. Cody passes him a napkin before he can press his fingers to his temples and get grease in his hair. He nods absently in thanks.

“A Sith controlling the Senate,” he murmurs to himself, with an expression like he’s connecting several dots and is severely unhappy with the picture they make. “Well, then.”

Louder, to Thire, he continues, “You do realize I’m going to need something more substantial than your word if I’m to bring this to the Jedi Council.”

Thire and Fox look at each other. Another wordless conversation commences. Wolffe, meanwhile, turns to stare at Cody; what the fuck? his raised eyebrows ask. This, at least, is not hard to understand. Cody shrugs back.

This is not the kind of bonding between the two sides of his life he had anticipated. He is honestly not sure if he’d prefer the possible-friendship possible-immediate-hatred or the sedition.

“I could just shoot him and see what happens,” Fox finally says.

Cody sighs. Wolffe presses a hand to his face. He has never looked more like an ori’vod.

“Please don’t,” Kenobi says, pained. “That could go incredibly badly if you’re wrong.”

“We could ask,” Thire suggests.

This is only marginally better than Fox’s idea.

Cody turns to Kenobi. They have done stupider things before and ended up with perfectly satisfactory results.

“I’ll turn on my helmet cam,” Fox adds. “Is that good enough evidence for you?”

Kenobi pauses and then shrugs like it hurts him to do so. He does not say no. The great negotiator has run out of will to argue; Cody never thought he’d see the day.

<><><>

It is less than twenty-four hours later that Thire, Fox, and a third Coruscant Guard commander that Cody doesn’t know come stumbling up the steps of the Jedi Temple. Thire is clutching Fox’s helmet against his chest. The third commander is carrying Fox himself and yelling for a medic.

Cody does not personally witness that spectacle, but he is there a few hours later in the chamber of the High Council when Thire gives his report. The third commander - Thorn - is with Fox in the Halls of Healing, having refused to move from his sentry position by Fox’s bacta tank. Cody hasn’t even seen him yet, with how quickly the Council meeting was called; all he knows of his batchmate’s condition is how long the list of injuries is.

“Sir, have you heard of the Sith?” Fox’s voice, distorted slightly by the recording, asks.

Palpatine chuckles. It sends chills down Cody’s spine in a way it never has before. The holo wavers, once, before Thire gets control of the shaking in his hands.

“Of course I have, Commander. Who hasn’t, in times like these?”

“Are you one of them?”

It is times like these that Cody both curses and loves Fox’s bluntness. Naked shock flashes across Palpatine’s face before he can control his reaction; the mask of the kindly old man does not return. The Jedi murmur at the poisonous anger in his eyes.

The recording stays steady. Thire does not shake, and neither does Fox, even in the face of darkness.

“An interesting question indeed, Commander. Let’s make sure you don’t remember it.”

Lightning bursts forth from his outstretched hand. Fox falls. The recording glitches and cuts on the edge of his scream.

It is only years of training that keep Cody from flinching. Thire’s knuckles are white on the helmet when he lowers it back to his side.

“Is that enough evidence for you?” he asks quietly, looking at Kenobi but directed at the Council entirely. Yoda’s ears droop. “Sirs?”

It seems it is. Cody has never seen the Jedi Council formulate and mobilize a plan so fast.

Fox is still in the bacta tank, but they let Thire take his slugthrower. The questions have already been asked, and he shoots first.

The Chancellor - the Sith Lord - dies quickly and loudly.

Afterwards, the Force is lighter than it has been in decades, or so Cody is told; he can neither confirm nor deny it, but the war is over, and he imagines the foreign joy he feels at this realization is a similar sensation.

#commander fox #commander cody #commander thire #star wars #the clone wars #tcw fic #banana made a post #banana writes things #this is very goofy i like it a lot

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happy-beeeps · 1 year

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Hi love! Could I request a Rex X reader where reader can’t sleep so he stays and talks with her?

Hi lovie!!! Tysm for the request! It makes me so happy to answer these especially when they're about Rex. I actually struggle with insomnia so this is like a very real occurrence for me, so I hope you love it!! Also the way i'm posting this at night aw it's like a bedtime story this has so many layers

Bed Time

pairing: Rex x jedi!reader

Summary: You have a hard time finding sleep, so Rex finds you instead

Warnings: None, this is tooth rotting fluff for my sleepy girlies (gn)

WC: 1.2k

* * *

You’re a monster when you’re low on sleep, according to everyone in the Jedi Council and most of the GAR. For being a Jedi, you’d think you’d be well equipped to handle low sleep, but to you, sleep is currency. There’s a running gag of all the places you’ve dozed off when trying to catch up on lost hours (the current favorites being Master Yoda’s council chair, at Kix’s med station, and inside the youngling’s training room.) You’re bristle and groggy when you’re low on energy, and everyone jokes of the time Anakin had proposed one of his haphazard “plans,” and you had looked at him, eyes sullen, and placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m going to need you to stop talking.” You grumbled.

He got over it. Eventually.

This lack of sleep is how you find yourself here, padding through the jungles of Felucia in nothing but your sleep shorts and tunic. When sleep struggles to find you, you’ve found it best to seek a quiet spot away from your bed and do something, anything, to calm your mind. Meditate, read, once you have even scrubbed the entirety of the 501st’s gear. So now, you settle on a quiet spot overlooking a valley, out of sight from where you’ve all made camp, but not too far that you’re in any inherent danger. It’s hard to focus here, the air is thick and soupy and you swear if you swung your arms down fast enough you’d catch water droplets on them. Still, the quiet hum of wildlife around you allows you to ground yourself in the moment, to pretend you’re not at war. It’s calm, peaceful even. Of course, until the peace is corrupted by the crunch of footfall, and you spin around to face the intruder, though your gaze softens as it lands on him.

Rex walks in through the bushes, holding a canteen and a scrap of fabric in one hand, and his bucket in another. He’s dressed only on the bottom, opting to just wear his blacks across his broad chest. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smirks, then moves to settle next to you, offering you the canteen of crisp water.

You graciously accept it, drinking as much as you can muster in one breath, hoping to replace everything you’ve just sweated out. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

“You know, some might even say I was made for you.”

You roll your eyes at the quip, sending your shoulders gently into his. He takes the movement as an invitation to open his arm, and you happily settle your weight on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“What are you doing here,” he murmurs against your hair, and you make a movement that resembles a shrug.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

He laughs, and you can feel the rumble down your spine, “Right, so we’ll be paying for that in the morning.”

You look up at his smirk and stick out your tongue at him, and he responds by pressing a warm kiss on the back of your cheek near your ear, swinging his arms around you to hold you firmly across your chest. “How can I make it better?”

“Master Yoda would say by leaving me alone,” you joke, and you know he gets your jest, as he only holds you tighter. “Can we just talk? I don’t know why I’m so unsettled right now.”

“Of course, about what?”

You shrug again and nudge your feet outwards, kicking Rex’s helmet as you move. “What are your marks for again? Tell me about them.”

“Those?” he gestures his head towards the helmet, “For missions I’ve successfully completed. Course, I’ve had to start counting by fives.”

Your eyes land on the newest cluster scrawled on his forehead and you count seven dashes. 35 battles won. You don’t know why that fact impresses you, considering you’ve been at probably half of them at least, not to mention the other missions you’ve completed. Then again, everything Rex does impresses you.

“You ever think about what you’d do without it all, the war, the missions? When it’s all over?”

He hums, pulling you in closer, “Nah, not much use in it. I’m not meant to know anything but war.”

You swat at his chest, “Don’t say that, you know I don’t like it." There’s a blissful silence that falls around the two of you after that. Not quite enough for you to get sleepy, but enough for you to melt into his arms a little bit more, to meditate a touch and use his breathing as an anchor. After a few minutes of this, you start up again. “I know what I’d do.”

“Oh really, General? I’m all ears.”

“First, I think I’d rescue this one dashingly handsome clone captain I worked with, if he’d have me,”

“He would, always, but go on,” and he trails kisses up and down the back of your neck, wherever he can reach.

“Then I think I’d settle on a system somewhere warm, with a beach maybe.”

“Like Naboo?”

“Sure, we can go to Naboo. Then, I think I’d be a teacher.”

“Like a Jedi Master?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’d teach all the kids in our town and then I’d come home to my captain.”

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to see you.” And he is. Rex pulls your chin in for a kiss, not fueled by lust or urgency, but a slow, easy kiss that’s meant to put you at ease. “Do you mean it?” he asks, eyes searching yours for any deception.

You yawn. “When it comes to you, always.”

He grips you tighter, and sleep threatens to overtake you now. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs, running his fingers up and down the sides of your arms, sprouting chill bumps in his wake. “Put this on.” And he passes you the black fabric resting beside him.

You unfurl it and open it to reveal one of his black undershirts. “Rex,”

“I just washed it, it’s clean. It’s designed to wick sweat so it’ll keep you cool,” he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck now, “sides, it’ll be like I’m sleeping with ‘ya.”

“Won’t that look suspicious? What if Anakin says something-”

“I can guarantee you that he won’t.”

You do as you're told, and settle into the warmth of his chest once more, surrounded by him and his scent. You must drift off in a matter of minutes, and Rex scoops you up carefully, holding you with both arms and carefully bending down to pick up your lightsaber. He walks the short distance back to camp, and meets a smirking General Skywalker at the flap of your tent. The Jedi puts his hand up before Rex can say anything, “Whatcha got there?” he smirks, opening the flap for Rex to place you at your bedroll, you still fast asleep. He ducks back out to face Anakin, who just gives him a knowing look before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Goodnight, you two.”

Rex rolls his eyes but grins at his General, before turning back to face your tent. “Goodnight cyarika.” He murmurs, the sound quick and fleeting, floating away on the warm, Felucian air.

#fic factory is OPEN BAYBEE #captain rex x reader #captain rex #captain rex x f!reader #requests #commander rex #rex x reader #clone trooper rex #tcw fic

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dickarchivist · 6 months

Note

Hello!

I am obsessed with your OC Clone squad. Thanks for sharing them with us!

You said you’re taking requests so I’m sliding in with one 👀

I’m taking from the same delicious NSFW prompt list @dystopicjumpsuit used!

The prompt is “Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.” with Ghost. He seems so sweet and deeply caring. With his cybernetic eyes perhaps eye contact is important to him/his partner???

Do with this as you please, no pressure! 💕

Thanks @starrylothcat for the fic request!! I'm so excited to deliver, and for my sweet boy Ghost too 😭

I Will Know You Forever, Even In Darkness

Clone OC Ghost × fem!Reader (civilian mechanic) (new relationship)

Word count: 2860

🔞Minors DNI🔞

Prompt: “Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.”

Summary: After a scare on a mission, your new sweetheart's in recovery at the hospital. When you're finally allowed in to see him, you make up for lost time.

Contents and Warnings: fluff and smut the ultimate combo, bit of angst at the beginning, PiV sex, mentions of eye trauma (nothing graphic), yearning good lord the yearning this man does for you. Happy ending, pinky promise.

Author Notes: This fic takes place directly after the mission that causes Ghost to lose his eyes and get his prosthetics. No actual eye trauma is described in detail, it's only stated that he lost them from acid splash, and he's given cybernetics as a replacement.

Small cameo of others in Grave Squad, the jedi of the 404th, and even smaller cameo/mention of two other sw OCs I've made over the years.

Sorry this one's so long, but also not sorry at all because I think it's really good.

When The Crypt lands in the hanger, you're absolutely thrilled. Ghost and his brothers were home at last. You set down your tools and twll your assistant you'd be back in a second, to which they roll their eyes with a smile, "Boyfriend's back huh?"

"Shush," you giggle, and start toward the ship with glee. But the closer you gwt, the more your smile fades

Wraith is out first, Specter and Banshee carrying a stretcher after him, "Careful! He's fragile, don't jostle him, I just got his vitals stable again!"

Guilt bubbles in your stomach as you hope and hope that the clone on the stretch was Phantom. You wouldn't wish for any of them to be hurt, but please. Please, anyone but--

"Ghost's gonna be fine," Phantom stretcha as he gets out of the ship, play wrestling with Wraith in a bad attempt to lighten the worried media's mood, "You saved his face, I'm sure he'll thank you for that when he wakes up."

"If he wakes up, Tommy!" Wraith spits at his brother, poking his finger hard into his chest, "Like I said, he's fragile, we can't be too cautious! I don't know the extent, he could die for all-"

"Wraith." Specter's voice cuts like a knife. He had noticed you when you'd arrived, and knew all the talk wasn't helping your anxiety.

"He's... he's not going to die, right?" There's a tremble in your voice, your hands are gripping the front of your jump suit so tight its almost hard to breathe, "He can't, he's- please..."

Phantom pushes his brothers along, the stretcher jostling just enough that Ghost's arm falls limp from it, and the cry that comes from you is mournful enough to make the hanger fall silent.

Wraith tries to comfort you, but his anxious yammering only proves to make things worse. Phantom catches your shoulders, then pulls you into a hug, "Hey, hey Mesh'la, it's fine. It's fine, Cap's been in worse spots than this. His name is Ghost, not Dead Guy, right? Afterlife can't get him, he's stuck here with us. Take a breath, okay, it'll be fine. He'll be fine."

His brothers keep you up to date while you aren't allowed in to see Ghost. He's lost both his eyes. They tell you he was heroic, only thinking about the lives of the people he was protecting during the battle. Wraith later confides in you that he believes it was his fault, that if he hadn't forgotten his helmet, Ghost wouldn't have given him his. Ghost's eyes wouldn't have been lost. You want to be angry, but you know them too well at this point.

"Rai, you didn't take his helmet off him. You didn't throw the acid. You didn't do anything malicious... Specter said you kept him alive, it was your quick actions that saved him. Stop calling yourself Ghost's attacker, he'd hate to hear that..."

Wraith nods, but doesn't say anything else, just goes back to Ghost's hospital room to do his best in helping his brother. You get the feeling that Wraith isn't going to belive it's not his fault until Ghost tells him that himself.

On the fifth day, you hear a voice you don't recognize.

"I don't care, no one is going to replace Captain Ghost." There's a few garbled words, then the voice came back, more forceful, "Ghost, not CT-1313." There's another pause before you hear a snarl, "HIS NAME IS GHOST!"

There's hushed murmers, then the voice speaks again, "Good, now that we're clear that this is a man and not a number: you'll give him new eyes. Yes, I do mean that. I do not care what it costs you, he's an irreplaceable asset to the 404th, and I will not have him decommissioned when the best course of action is to replace what he's lost."

You don't realize how close you've gotten to the door until it a little girl grabs your hand, "It's not polite to easedrop... it's fun to do though."

You'd seen her once before, Ghost called her "Vod'ika", and you aren't sure if that's her name or not. She's got her ear pressed to the door, and she giggles, "Oooh, Master Dax is angry, he's using his little voice."

"Master-" when the door opens, a yellow zebrak in jedi robes stands before you. His bright blue eyes catch you, then the little girl behind you.

His glare turns to a funny face immediately. Hands beside his head flaired out, tongue sticking out, eyes crossed. It makes you laugh for the first time in days. "Good!" The zebrak booms, holding your shoulders, "We like happy. Happy means hope, and what's wrong with a little hope right? You must be this "Cyare" Ghostie has been muttering about in his sleep, I know all his brothers, and none of them have that moniker, Athena there is "Cyar'ika", so Cyare must be you!"

You know that word, you heard it often when you were a mandalorian foundling as a child. Beloved. Your face blooms with blush, and you look down at the kid behind you, then back to the man, "uh... y-yeah, I guess so."

"Good, good good good, excellent, good!" He puts his arm around your shoulders, leading you away from the door you'd been camped in front of since Ghost was admitted, "Listen Cyare, Ghost's gonna be fine, Wraith and another clone, I don't know if you know him, Repeat, they'll be preforming Ghost's surgery. Why you ask? Because I don't trust those smug asses with my boys!" His laugh booms again, and you can't help your giggle either, "Now, Re is from my previous Padawan, now a master, so proud. Re is from Annika's battalion, the 418th, let me tell you..."

Master Dax talks your ear off for hours. But it takes your mind off of the situation, and before you know it, Specter is collecting you from the enthusiastic jedi, "Buir, shut it. C'mon, Ghost's up, he wants to see you."

You wave to Dax and Athena, thanking them for spending the day with you. As you walk the now familiar path to Ghost's room, you find that your pace moves quicker the closer you get. Specter chuckles at your side, "Just run, we told the staff to let you in."

"Thanks," you manage before sprinting away. You're running so fast the doors don't part for you at one point and you slam directly into them, eliciting uproarious laughter from a few of the clones lucky enough to see the disaster. It takes a lot of patience to slow down enough for the automatic doors, but eventually you're where you need to be.

Wraith is waiting inside Ghost's room for you. He's fidgeting more than normal, and when he sees you, his speech goes into over drive, "Okay keep in mind I'm not perfect I did my best and he's my brother so of course I did my very very best for him and Repeat was a huge help please don't be mad at-"

"Wraith," Ghost's voice sends your heartbeat further into overdrive, "Shut up before she thinks you killed me." There's humor... stars you're so happy to hear that light chuckle, "C'mere Cyare, I want the first thing I see to be you."

Before you go to his side, you stop at Wraith, kissing his cheek lightly, "Thanks for brining him back to me..."

"Y-yep." As Wraith stumbles out of the room holding his cheek, you cross to Ghost.

Your hand finds his, and immediately his head turns to you with a smile, "There she is, my heart. Rai said the bandages could come off a few hours after surgery. Told him I wanted you to be there for it, hope that's alright."

You don't say anything. You climb into the bed with him, your arms wrapping around him, tangling your legs together as best you can with the blanket over him. Ghost kisses the top of your head as you settle in, rubbing your back, "I'm alright..."

"I know."

"If I'm not handsome anymore, you can always date Phantom, he hits on you enough to where I think he might be serious." He chuckles, but when you don't, he stops. Ghost's hand finds your cheek, and brings you to look at him, even though he can't see you yet, "Hey. I'm not going anywhere, alright? I'm alive, and I want to see you... please Cyare, let me see you."

You move on him, straddling his hips, thankful for his eyes being the only injury this time. You hold his face gently, and he steals a kiss to your palm, making you blush. "Ghost..?"

"Hm?"

"It's not just your looks, you know that, right? It's you. Even if you're still blind, or your face is weird, I'd still want to be with you... Phantom's gross anyway, not made of boyfriend material like you." When he laughs this time, so do you. Hope, you think, a little hope is good.

Careful, so much so you're holding your breath, you begin to take off Ghost's bandages. His eyes are closed underneath, and you cover your mouth for a moment. It's like a mask of scars tissue, still gently pink from the acid. When he flutters his eyes open, white irises meet yours, and you can help but cry. Tears stream down your face, and Ghost looks almost dejected before you croak, "You're okay..."

Ghost lets out a breath of relief, his new eyes focusing on you, "I was hoping to see you smile, but I'll take happy tears too. They are happy, right?"

"Yes!" You burst, bouncing in his lap a little with the laugh, reaching for him again as you go to kiss him.

Ghost gives an appreciative "mmm~" as your lips find his. He puts his hands on your hips, one leaving its post rather quickly and rubbing across the small of your back and side. He's surprised when you deepen the kiss, and you feel his length move under you as your tongue slides over his. He chuckles when you part, and looks up at you with new eyes, "Careful there Cyare, I'm getting excited."

"Is... is that a bad thing?" You bite your bottom lip a little and deliberately roll your hips on him this time, "I... I missed you, and these last few days, I couldn't stop thinking about... a-about how I don't want to be without you."

Ghost throbs against you, but you get the feeling it wasn't because of your movements on him, rather your words. You keep rolling your hips on him, wanting to feel him yourself, "For a moment I thought you were gone, and I realized I didn't get to tell you how I feel-"

"Stop," he holds you still, his hands finding yours, "Don't say it. N-not unless you mean it, got that? Don't say it because you feel like you have to."

You recognize the look of fear in his eyes, of rejection, pain from a love once spurned. You're not each others firsts, but you do know one thing, you want him to be your last firsts. You put your hands on Ghost's and guide them to your heart. It beats fast against his palms, much as his does on yours when you reach out to him. You mirror each other's moves, one hand each going to hold your cheeks. His thumb rubs your cheekbone, eyes locked with yours, "Cyare..."

"Kar'taylir darasuum." The mandalorians who found you, became your family, they had taught you this phrase when you left them. With how Ghost's eyes soften at you, you know he understands them too. You repeat them to him all the same, beginning to rock on him again, "I will know you forever, Ghost."

Ghost repeats them back to you, his hand guiding your face to his for another kiss. It's slow and lingering, when you pull back, he's smiling so warmly, lips gently parted with soft breath, "I will know you forever, even in darkness."

Ghost's eyes roam down between you, and blush finally shows on his face, "Cyare, if we don't do something about these clothes, I might throw a fit."

You're both giggling as you fumble with your clothes. Soft stolen kisses, small gasps of appreciation, little stories of "What's this scar from?" And kissed freckles. When you're standing beside Ghost's hospital bed fully bare to him, he looks at you with so much adoration. His hand reaches for yours, and you're guided back to his lap. He's bigger than you thought, his length hard in your hand. "Wow..."

"I could say the same," Ghost chuckles and puts his hands on your hips, eyes on your slick folds before slowly working up to your eyes again, "Never seen such a beautiful body before."

You bite your lip as you move against him, running his length through your folds to slick him. The groan he makes joins yours as you toy his tip against your clit. Ghost smiles up at you, hands holding your breasts, circling your nipples with his thumbs, "Stars you feel great already... Cyare, mmm~"

Your eyes flutter closed as you take him into your waiting walls, "Ghost..."

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby," when he speaks, it's so soft, so breathy and light, you're not sure if you heard it or thought it. You look down at him, and he already looks love drunk. Eyes half lidded, his hands move down to your hips again and pull you further onto him. You moan, bracing on his chest, and he groans with delight, "That's right baby, eyes on me... I want to see you."

"Ghost... kriff, s-so full," your eyes stay on his as you start to move on his lap, taking him fully each time you lower back down. You start slow, easing yourself through the burn of the initial stretch, but soon you're at an even pace. The sticky wet sound of his length moving in and out of you fills the room with your tandem breathing.

His hands hold you tight, hips bucking up into you as you bounce on his length. His eyes flicker between yours, your breasts bouncing, and the way he glides in and out of you with such easy. You whine for him, hands balling in his chest hair, clenching around his length, "Feels so good, Ghost, s-stars." When his fingers slide to your clit, you cry out for him with an arch of your back, "Ghost! Ah!"

"D-dont look away," his other hand holds your face, thumb running over your bottom lip before you take it in your mouth and suck. Ghost's eyes widen a little, his hips stuttering before the pace quickens, "Oh kriff..."

You release his thumb and lock eyes with him again, "I'm close, do-don't stop, don't stop, Ghost, oh-" a whine releases from your lips as he rubs your clit faster, eyelashes flutter but you keep your eyes open, closer and closer to the edge, "Ghost, oh, oh baby, oh Ghost!"

"S-stay with me baby, come on, s-so close, so--" he grunts, his hips snap up into your walls in an intense build of pressure before he sits up off the bed with a cry of your name, spending himself inside you without restraint.

His wild bucks and intense attention to your clit were enough to get you to the edge, but feeling him fill you with his spend, it sends you over into ecstasy. You collect his lips in a kiss as you orgasm, body clenching around his length and shuttering with aftershocks of pleasure. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you come down, and as Ghost holds you close, kissing your neck and shoulder, you feel so warm and safe.

Small drops of warmth hit your shoulder, and for a moment concern holds your body still. Was he hurt? You pull away to see Ghost's face, and to your surprise, tears are filling his new eyes, falling down his cheeks. You hold his face gently, wiping the tears from his unmarked skin, Careful of the sensitive scarring, "Ghost... what's wrong baby?"

"Nothing," he laughs a soft cry, kissing your lips just once, "I'm... overwhelmed. Spent the last month thinking of this, the last week needing to see you, just one more time, and..." He chuckles, feeling silly, kissing you again, "I can't believe this is real."

Your heart flutters, how is he this sweet? You press a delicate kiss to his forehead as you ease the both of you down. You nestle under his chin, still full of him, not willing to let that feeling end yet, "It's real, I promise."

After a few minutes of silence, Ghost rubbing your back in soothing circles, you're nearly asleep when you hear him again, "Did you mean it...?"

"Hm...?"

"You love me?"

You press a sleepy kiss to his jaw, "I love you, Ghost."

His heart picks up, you can feel it against your own, and it has you smiling. Ghost gives you a little squeeze, going back to rubbing your warm skin, "I love you too, Cyare."

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chocmarss · 3 months

Text

Lionheart

Summary:

“We found you half-dead already, ad,” the voice says, and Cody’s attention immediately sharpens on the pet name. “I’m surprised you’re still kicking, but someone recognised you when they hauled your sorry shebs into my medbay.”

tcw. repcomm meet. cody-centric. post tcw. fulcrum!cody. rated T. 4.1k+ words. (1/4)

Notes: Thank you @codyday2224 for organising this special day for our boy! Gave me that push I need to write something about him 🧡

Unknown, Unknown, 17 BBY

When Cody wakes up, it feels as if he’s been slugged in the head with a blaster.

He won’t be surprised if that’s exactly what’s happened, from where the back of his head prickles with something of a ghostly press. That sucks.

“Ah, hello,” a voice suddenly says, and it’s taken most of Cody’s hard-rock grip on himself to actually prevent that startled jump. “Glad you’re awake.”

His heart’s making a racket, though. Force on a karking wheel, what the kriff.

“Easy. Didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice continues, and there’s a soft beep on Cody’s side that sounds like a heart monitor. “You’re alright.”

His eyelids refuse to pry themselves open, heavily sealed together with the glue of his sleep-yuck. The lack of cooperation has annoyance trudging past the haze of pain when Cody tries his best to find out if he’s on the way to being killed soon, and if killing him requires as much effort as letting him go through torture first.

Would it have been kinder if they just got on with it? Cody isn’t opposed to keeping his nails in tact, if that’s the case.