#clone haven gift exchange

[swiftwaterprawn]

Fic exchange for Cody Day (2/2/24) for Vatukka, first half beta read by trashcan_nottrashcant 🧡

After Cody defected from the Empire, he was caught and taken to Hemlock's lab, where he was subject to experimentation. When rescue arrives, Cody is reunited with someone he thought he had lost - Rex.

Or: Shifter Cody claims Rex as his

Explicit, 4720 words, Cody/Rex, angst with a happy ending, fluff and smut, biting, mild gore

[cloneficgiftexchange]

All of the fics from the Clone xReader Gift Exchange are up! If you missed some of the amazing fics written for this event, here is a list of them!! They are organized by character and are in alphabetical order by title. 

If you liked a story, consider reblogging it! Reblogs are a great way to show appreciation for an author’s work. reblogs to signal boost this list are greatly appreciated as well.

NSFW fics are strictly 18+ and are marked as such. 

Across the Stars by @wanderer-six (NSFW)

Somewhere to Start by @cioneo

The Way You Look Tonight by @miseries-mistress

Untitled by @mayonnaisepudding

Always by @writing-positivelyexisting

i told you not to follow me by @burningfieldof-clover

Sunshine by @moonlight-sonata99

Untitled by @techs-ass

don’t you know by @221bshrlocked (NSFW)

enough for you by @miaowshacat

Heart Made of Flesh by @dragonrider9905

Just in Time by @pizza-writes

Meeting the Family by @haven-is-happy

Not Just For Show by @ghostofskywalker

By Your Side Tonight by @toomanybandstocare

Challenge Accepted by @of-stardust-and-dreams

Open Your Eyes by @tecker

Crescendo by @wizardofrozz

Insidious Visions by @agenteliix

Let the Sun In by @exxasperatedauthor

The Escape by @chicknstripz

A Match Made in a Classroom by @melliejellybellybean

Begonias by @diviluscorner

Bleed For Love by anonymous (hosted on @staycalmandhugaclone)

Don't Be Afraid by @echos-girlfriend

Growing Into Love by @ladysongmaster

Jealous by @knightprincess

Personal Tastes by @l-lend

The Force Works in Mysterious Ways by @staycalmandhugaclone (NSFW)

Yours & Mine by @embeanwrites

Falling For You by @masterjedilenawrites

Born For This by @arctrooper69

Lucky by @snippy-tano

i remember... by @221bshrlocked (NSFW)

Into the Forest I Go by @fives-lover

it's always been you by @obixwan

It's Gonna be Fine? by @loving-the-cambridges

Just This Once, Everybody Lives by @l-lend

Precious Soul by @wizardmando

Slowly But Surely by @ghostofskywalker

This New Reality by @angelltheninth

Circumstance by @captainpains

Jogan Rolls For Two by @theunderscorekinginyellow (NSFW)

Logical by @photogirl894

Pretty Boy by @manofworm

Don't Let Me Go by @rainydaydream-gal18

Fine Line by @homie-one-kenobi

Pack Mentality by @corona-one

I Like You a Lot by @imarvelatthestars

[clonecest-bin-account]

I’ve participated to the Clone Haven secret santa exchange and was assigned to @firewoodwander! This is the first one of the two gifts I’ve made for you.

Jesse and Kix are cuddling under the covers and enjoying some holo-novelas. Jesse’s surprised by the “big twist”, but Kix has called it from the first episode and he’s pleased to see that he was right.

[coruscantguard]

looking at him was safer than facing the damage again

My gift for @clonecest-bin-account for the Clone Haven Gift Exchange!

Commander Fox/Commander Cody, Commander Wolffe, Captain Rex, Commander Stone, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango Fett, Boba Fett

Warnings for child abuse re. Kamino, clone trooper-typical eugenics beliefs,  implied/referenced violence between children, internalized ableism, trauma, mentioned child death, and... Cody with a lightsaber!

(Ao3 Link)

The mission is a kriffing disaster.

Usually, Cody refrains from calling missions that, because the universe always seems to take it as a challenge, but kriff that. The mission is a kriffing disaster, and half of his face feels like it's on fire, and the Forcedamned universe can go kriff itself.

"Osik," he hears Bishop say from above him, feels the medic grab his arm. "Osik, Commander, I swear to the karking Force—"

Cody blinks up at him. Sees, for a moment, not Bishop but Boba. He squints at the light that looks all too much like the lights in Kamino's training rooms. Tries to remember what the kriff happened, why the golden boy is here instead of following Prime around like his shadow, except extra tiny and extra bratty.

"Osik—" he hears Boba-maybe Bishop- say, and he frowns. Feels a hand on his face, a flare of pain—

Jango, furious, Boba, bleeding—

"Sorry," Cody mumbles, tries to figure out what's going on. Feels, for a moment, the phantom weight of a kama on his hips, sees the room flicker—

And then he sees nothing at all.

Read More (On Ao3, because this is 7k, and Tumblr had a tantrum when I tried to post it here, rip.)

[firewoodwander]

honey-gold — Tup/Dogma

Domestic holiday decorating fluff as part 2 of my clone haven gift exchange for the wonderful @parkkrys ! 🤍

No warnings, just fluff! Rated Gen

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Summary:

Dogma hums to himself as he sits on the living room floor unwinding coils and coils of fairy lights. Some are multicoloured, some are blue, some are even pink, but his favourite ones, as simple as they are, are the long strands they have of warm white. The ones that glow a yellow-amber that always reminds him of soft blankets and warm hands and even warmer, beautiful honeyed eyes.

“We don’t have to,” Tup says suddenly. He wrings his hands together as Dogma considers the two cardboard boxes he’s unearthed from the tiny, crowded attic above their flat. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to—”

“Tup.” Dogma steps over a box and peers up into his face. He looks calm, somewhat amused, even, when he takes Tup’s hands in his and slips their fingers together to curl over their knuckles. “Just because I don’t do Christmas does not mean I don’t want to spend time with you putting up all the pretty things I know you love. It’s hanging some tinsel on the wall, not making me participate in dinner and… whatever else it is people do.”

Tup rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and tilts his head when Dogma brushes away a stray strand of hair with their linked hands. “I just… I don’t want you to feel you have to.”

Dogma smiles slightly and tugs him down to sit on the floor, curled towards each other and knee-to-knee.

“Do you know how much I loved going to your house to see you when it got to December?” he asks. Tup lifts a brow to look at him from under his lashes. “I did. I loved it. The later it got, the more everything was pretty and warm and nice. And my favourite part—lucky, I think, considering how much time we spent there—was your room. You’ve collected so many things over the years, and it was always covered with—”

“Lights,” Tup murmurs. “It was always covered in lights. I knew you liked them.”

Dogma squeezes their hands. “I did. It seemed… fitting. I think I… I think…”

Tup strokes a thumb over the back of his hand. “What is it?”

“I think I fell in love with you in that room,” comes out all in a rush, a voice small with embarrassment, colour rising to Dogma’s face as he stares fixedly at their feet. Tup feels his own cheeks flush with prickling warmth, bubbles rising in his chest that make him beam. “Lying on your bed with you, in-in the dark, there was that string of golden ones you had on the ceiling, and you looked so pretty when we turned out all the lamps and lay there with all the reflections glittering in your hair.”

“You know I did it for you, right?” Tup says. If he focuses he can feel his old mattress and sheets at his back, the radiating warmth of Dogma’s hand resting mere millimetres from his own and yet feeling that distance as keenly as if it were miles. Wanting to reach out and tangle their fingers like they are now, wanting to roll over and kiss the starry-eyed look from his face but never having the courage to ask. His best friend, warm and sparkling under the fairy lights. “I…” he swallows down the lump of nostalgia that forms in his throat. “You always looked so relaxed. Happy. I would think about you when I put them up.”

Dogma leans forward and presses their lips together, just a chaste kiss, cute and sweet, and still it has Tup’s heart fluttering like he’s seventeen again and pining. The way his scruff grazes Tup’s skin makes him shiver and melt all at once, just like it always does. Tup squeezes his hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet.

“Then come on. Let’s start with the lights.”

Of course, Dogma puts up a minimal protest when Tup puts on the Christmas songs. Tup knows he doesn’t mind—not when he can see him swaying along out of the corner of his eye—and Tup quite adores it too when he can grab Dogma’s hands and waist as he’s walking by and twirl him around the room to all his favourite songs. But the lights go up, and then the tinsel, as Dogma said, and Tup finishes it with little glittery stars and snowy pinecones he hangs from whatever is hook-like enough to take them. There’s a candle holder with a forest deer pattern on the coffee table, and Dogma is just inspecting the label on the candle when Tup finally brushes off his hands.

“Orange and cinnamon?” he asks. He frowns at the thing before lifting it and sniffing cautiously. “Is that supposed to work?”

“Don’t you like it?” Tup smiles. The empty boxes are kicked aside and he falls onto the sofa with a huff of breath, watching out of one eye while Dogma lights the candle and stares at it with suspicion.

“It’s surprisingly not bad.”

“There, see?” Tup rolls onto one side and holds his arms out to his boyfriend. “Now come on, I’m cold!”

Dogma frowns again and makes towards the thermostat, abandoning his candle and Tup, who pouts. “Cold? I can get you a jumper if you want? The heating was on not long ago…”

“Dogma,” Tup says. He lifts his arm up again. “I meant I want hugs.”

A soft look passes over Dogma’s expression. He turns back to Tup fully, his lips tilted in a lopsided smile, and reaches to take his hand.

“Sorry, cyare. I can do that too.”

“Good,” Tup smirks, pulling him down onto the sofa. He lands heavy in Tup’s arms and quickly rearranges himself, pressing him back into the cushions and covering him with his weight. Tup pushes his nose into Dogma’s neck and allows himself to be cuddled.

“Thank you for today,” he murmurs into his skin.

Dogma hums and tangles his fingers in the lengths of Tup’s hair. “I already said it’s perfectly fine, there’s no need to thank me.”

“No,” Tup says, grinning with giddiness just at the memory. “Telling me about it. When you fell for me.”

The arms around Tup’s waist and back tighten momentarily, hugging him closer to Dogma’s chest. “I wanted to,” he mutters. “You deserve to be loved.”

Tup bites down on his smile and plays the fleece of Dogma’s hoodie between his fingers. “You never let me forget.”

“Exactly.”

For a minute all is quiet, just the thump of Dogma’s heart under Tup’s ear and the even rise and fall of his chest. Tup snuggles even closer into him and buries his nose in his neck, the beloved smell of him mingling with the sweet spice of their steadily-burning candle.

“Hey,” Dogma says gently, nudging his shoulder just as he’s on the verge of dropping into a doze. “I have something to show you.”

“Hmm? Do I have to move?”

He chuckles. “Well, it’d be a darn sight harder bringing it to you.”

“Could always move the sofa with me on it.”

With a snort, Dogma slips down to kneel on the floor and leans in to drag a careful knuckle over Tup’s cheek. “Come on, cyare. I want you to see this.”

Tup rouses and blinks his eyes open to return Dogma’s smile. He stretches, yawns, and holds out his hands in a silent request to be carried.

“Oh come on, you lazy ars. Up you get.”

“Fine,” Tup sighs, though he levers himself up happily enough. He takes Dogma’s hand and lets him guide him out, through their freezing fucking airlock of an entrance hall and to their bedroom door. Dogma stops with his hand on the handle and—

“Close your eyes,” he says. Tup nods and holds a hand over his closed eyes, pursing his lips in quiet excitement. He’s guided into the room and positioned somewhere in the middle of the small floor. He hears the door click shut behind him, Dogma moving around, a click, and then warm hands landing back at his waist.

“Can I open them?” he asks.

Dogma laughs, gently pulling the hand away from his face. “Yes, yes you can look.”

When Tup opens his eyes again, he isn’t at first sure quite where he is at all. The room is dark—blackout curtains pulled tight and pinned for full effect—except for the dozens upon dozens of hovering, glowing golden twinkles that arc from wall to wall across the ceiling, bathing everything in soft light.

“Oh,” Tup breathes. He steps forward and tips his head back to stare up at them, his fingers brushing the fluffy throw blanket over the foot of the bed before he sinks down onto it. “Dogma.”

“Is it good?” he asks. “I did it right, didn’t I?”

“It’s wonderful.”

The bed dips as Dogma joins him. He lies back, lets their thighs brush, hears the sigh that leaves his boyfriend’s lips as he settles. Their fingers, inches apart on the covers, meet in the middle and curl together.

“Thank you,” Tup tells him eventually. The bed is soft, Dogma’s warm and sleep calls to him, but he stares up at the pattern of stars swirling above his head, not wanting to lose this feeling he never thought he’d have again.

Well, he supposes it’s not quite the same as it used to be.

“Thank you,” he whispers again, rolling onto his side to gaze lovingly into Dogma’s eyes.

“Of course,” Dogma breathes. “I didn’t know if there was a-a pattern, or anything, so I did my best.”

“How many years has it been since we last did this? It’s beautiful, ner cyare. Really.”

Dogma smiles. “I’m glad you like it.”

Tup leans down to kiss him. Dogma’s mouth is soft and pliant, and he kisses like every one might be his last; it sends a shiver down Tup’s spine, a small noise catching in his throat when he lowers himself onto Dogma’s chest, indescribably grateful for every moment they’ve had leading up to this. Them.

“You don’t know how happy I am that I can do this with you,” he says once they part, breathless and heart aching. Dogma reaches up to hold his face again, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and grinning. The fairy lights shimmer in his eyes, make his gaze fall softly, so softly, it makes Tup weak.

“I know.”

[mockingjay34]

Title: Baatir

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Relationship: Gen: Tup & Dogma

Summary: The older brothers were nice to have around. The trainers weren’t likely to comfort the cadets or help them around the compound or tuck them back into bed at night, not to mention how the Kaminoans would react to such infractions. But sometimes, Tup was glad for the independence he had found at six and a half.

[shirlleycoyle]

Before TikTok, Witches Traded Their Spells on This Ancient Internet Forum

Long before the witches of Gen-Z claimed TikTok as their digital coven, and even before the Geocities-scattered digital landscapes of Web 1.0, a thousands-strong community once formed via the world’s phone lines to trade spells, advise on sigils, and correspond on spiritual guidance. It was called the Pagan And Occult Distribution Network, or PODSnet: a slice of occult internet history that helped pioneer mass online collaboration.

Today, it’s easy to take for granted that online communities are only a few taps away, but in the 1980s and early 1990s, finding like-minded individuals in niche subject areas was practically revolutionary. And in the case of PODSnet, it provided an unusually free space to discuss the esoteric arts—for many of its members, for the first time ever.

"In the 1990s and 1990s, accessing the social media of the day was very different than it is today,” Farrell McGovern, a PODSnet cofounder who came to Paganism through books about quantum physics such as The Dancing Wu Li Masters, told Motherboard. “It was louder, slower, and connectivity was perilous.”

In the early 1980s, computing enthusiasts began using Bulletin Board Systems (BBS) to communicate with each other. These systems were a precursor to the World Wide Web, and although relatively primitive, paved the way for the always-on communication of today.

Because BBS ran on phone lines, discussions were asynchronous and often confined to local groups due to the dramatic costs of dialing farther afield than your own state. What’s more, the boards were isolated from one another: an analogy might be if every single subreddit needed its own website, and you could only speak to users in your immediate area.

But in 1984, artist and technician Tom Jennings created FidoNet, a network that could connect all of these BBS systems. With the advent of cheaper modems, FidoNet’s popularity exploded into a huge 20,000-node network that connected users all around the world. Eventually, something called Echomail was introduced by a system operator, or sysop, called Jeff Rush, allowing for the support of public forums.

Instead of simply picking up your smartphone, BBS users would have to connect their computer to a modem, which was linked to a phone line—translating digital 1s and 0s into audio information and back again to the modem and terminal operating the BBS.

Popular BBSes would frequently return a busy signal: unlike today, actually logging off was necessary because only one connection was allowed at a time. A successful login returned a screen of text and a list of messages grouped into categories, with the software tracking the ones you had read. Here, users would respond to text, download what they could, and hang up.

Here, a BBS called "Magicknet" flourished, but one problem in particular spurred its users to found their own splinter network: Christian fundamentalists had infiltrated the group to spy on members.

This infiltration led to a number of incidents, including McGovern being written up in the magazine of infamous cult figure Lyndon Larouche as a “well-known witch from Toronto”. Given the various tabloid-led "Satanic panics" at the time, founding an independent BBS was not only right for promoting lively metaphysical discourse, it was a matter of safety too.

“People were losing their jobs, child custody, etc,” McGovern told Motherboard. “People had to move to escape persecution in some areas: very much so in the Bible Belt, but in other places, too. Unless you were in a major metropolitan area, and even then, you ran some degree of risk if you were outed.”

McGovern was first involved in his local BBS scene around Ottawa in the mid-1980s. Working at a local computer store that sold Apple and IBM PC clones, McGovern set up the Data/Sfnet BBS to advertise the business. In doing so, he became a SysOp—a system operator who ran, maintained, and in many cases built a network—granting him honorary entry to the computing elite at the time.

Being based in Canada, McGovern was the first to help Magicknet go international before it split into PODSnet, which would swell to 10,000 members who accessed the BBS by dialling into the 93 "zone number"—a reference to Thelema, the spiritual movement developed by Aleister Crowley.

The logo of the PODSnet bulletin board system.

For author and occult store supplier Dorothy Morrison, who was raised Catholic but eventually joined a coven of practicing witches in California before forming one of her own, discovering PODSnet was an “incredible way to find so many people of like mind at one place”.

“It was a place where I could be myself, regardless of the fact I really was living in a very conservative, buttoned-down state,” Morrison told Motherboard. “It wasn’t just a safe haven for me, it was an escape from having to appear to be someone I wasn’t for safety reasons."

“When someone wants to burn you at the stake—at that time Missouri was not a place that would’ve taken kindly to Witches—you certainly don’t tell them where you keep the gas can,” she said.

The atmosphere on PODSnet was typically collaborative and friendly, said Morrison, and the most arresting dramas on the board she was aware of usually related to the enormous phone bills that came from connecting to the network. (Although once or twice these charges “damned near landed some folks in divorce court.")

But, like the internet today, there were hints of gossip, rumours, and fake news. One popular cause for the community was the supposed persecution of 9 million witches by Christians (The whole idea was based on bad scholarship, according to McGovern). At one point, there was a six-year-long debate on whether or not Kate Bush is Wiccan—perhaps one of the most heated internet disputes of its time.

Whatever the topic, much of these PODSnet discussions would have been lost to time were it not for a community effort to archive the cherished message board. Still accessible in its archived ASCII form today, PODSnetters worked together to produce what was perhaps the first mass collaborative online project of its type: a massive, crowdsourced digital grimoire  called the Internet Book of Shadows.

The name of the enormous seven-volume text references the catch-all "Book of Shadows," a name commonly used for tomes of spells and rituals, and the text covers the A-Zs of alternative spirituality from "Asatru to Zen Buddhism." Chapter one alone is 70,000 words long, and there’s a varied store of stuff available within, including an essay about bashing fluffy bunnies (the tendency among some well-seasoned practitioners to troll newbies, as opposed to bashing actual rabbits), a guide to cleansing rituals called "smudging," and an introduction to the suppressed traditions of Gnosticism.

Plenty of contributors to the Book of Shadows remain involved in esoteric spiritual communities today, and some, like Morrison, became authors in their own right.

One of Dorothy Morrison’s favorite contributions to the Internet Book of Shadows.

Morrison says the book of rituals, spells, stories, legends, and “other magic-related miscellany” took seven 5-inch loose-leaf binders to contain it when she once decided to print out the information the community had amassed. The community then began compiling the grimoire into downloadable digital files.

Once it was finished, PODSnet users agreed to offer the Book of Shadows as a gift, free of charge, to the community. While they were copyrighted, they were free to use and copy under the proviso that there was no charge for their acquisition—leading to later frustrations about unauthorized reproductions of the manuscript for profit.

“It’s probably the largest collection of pagan thought that was freely available to copy for non-commercial use,” McGovern added.

According to Dan Harms, an author and librarian at SUNY Cortland, magick practice has thrived on community-produced documents throughout history. Even during the print era, there was a “tremendous sort of traffic in books, manuscripts being passed back and forth between people,” chopping and changing aspects of the manuscripts they liked before copying them out.

“What was really different here, is that when the material was copied or created, it’s put up online for everybody to see,” Harms said. “It becomes a collective memory. It’s not something that’s stuck on somebody’s shelf, it’s something everybody can get into.”

Harms told Motherboard that communities like PODSnet were of enormous importance for establishing networks of occult practitioners and helped lay the groundwork for driving a boom in occult publishing.

“I was growing up in rural Kentucky with an interest in these kinds of arcane topics,” said Harms, who wasn't involved in the occult internet at the time of PODSnet but was an active Usenet user. “It was just so hard to find any sort of information – you would have to rely on the local library.  But the local library in rural Kentucky is probably not looking to fill up its shelves with books about magic and paganism and things like that.”

Today, what was once a recondite pocket of the primordial internet has hit the mainstream, with even the Financial Times covering the "WitchTok" phenomenon. Speaking with PODSnetters, there’s a sense that in today's online spaces, community and information exchange can often take a backseat to clout and hostility. “[But] how much of that is getting older and yelling ‘get off my grass’,” asks McGovern, “or true insight – only time will say.”

Whatever the case, PODSnet—which closed around the turn of the millennium before hopping to Yahoo Groups, LiveJournal, and now with its remnants on Facebook—proved that digital technologies can bring disparate people together in a meaningful way, where they are happy to create and produce for the good of their communities.

“I remember those I met along that journey, what they taught me—not only about the Craft, but about myself—and the connections I made," said Morrison.“I remember how fortunate I was that PODSnet was there for me. To a large degree, that experience formed the person I am today, and I'll be forever grateful.”

Before TikTok, Witches Traded Their Spells on This Ancient Internet Forum syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[clonecest-bin-account]

Just a crush

Ship: Rex/Wolffe

Rating: G

AO3 link

As if Kamino isn't already hard enough to live through, Rex gets a crush. Great.

Second gift for @firewoodwander!

When Rex finally finds enough courage to reveal it to Cody - because keeping stuff from him is infuriatingly impossible - what he gets is to get laughed in his face.

“You’re such an asshole!” he exclaims, elbowing him on his side but to no avail. Cody’s about to double over for how much he’s laughing.

“Rex, my sweet little vod’ika, I’m so sorry for you,” Cody manages to say, barely holding back his laughter. He even dries one tear from his eye for dramatic effect, but after clearing his throat he becomes serious again. “You’re not joking, right?”

“Of course not! I’d never joke about something like that,” Rex immediately replies. Cody sighs, ruffling his short hair - it used to be longer but Rex has started cutting it very short only recently so Cody hasn’t lost this habit yet.

 “Is this because he helped you find your name?” Well, that sure is a question.

The fact that Wolffe helped Rex pick up a name sure has helped, but it’s not all. It’s actually hard to be able to tell exactly how and when it began; he supposes it was something that happened gradually.

Wolffe is tough and fierce, and that’s something Rex has always admired, because he could never act the way he does, not with his hair mutation: the Kaminoans are already constantly coming up with excuses to get rid of him, there’s no need to give them more. He has to be the perfect soldier, not like Wolffe who can growl and snarl at the trainers with little to no repercussion.

That’s not to say that Wolffe’s life is an easy one - none of them could ever even dream to aspire to something like that - but instead of keeping his head low, he takes this life by the tail, he kicks and screams, he doesn’t go down without a fight.

In the end, Rex realizes, it’s a mix of wanting to be him and wanting to be with him.

 Remembering that he’s still involved in a conversation, he shrugs.

“Dunno… Maybe.”

He slides against a wall, letting himself fall on the cold floor. Not the most comfortable spot, but he doesn’t feel like moving right now. Cody follows him down immediately.

“You plan on telling him?”

“Of course not! That would be a death sentence!” Rex exclaims. He isn’t actually sure about that, but he’s also not sure of the contrary either.

Still, he doesn’t want to risk ruining everything he’s build until now just because of a stupid crush, because at the end of the day, it’s just that, a crush. Wolffe, Cody and the rest of their batch have taken him under their wing, integrating him in the group; he doesn’t want to become a pariah even for them.

“That’s dumb,” Cody says, and Rex doesn’t have it in himself to disagree. Still, there’s something about Cody’s smile that doesn’t convince him at all.

“What?” Rex asks then, because if Cody’s going to pull some shit, he’ll kill him. Cody shakes his head.

“You’ll see,” is the cryptic answer. “Hopefully…”

 The days pass and Rex still has no idea about what Cody meant with that. If it was supposed to be a warning, he should’ve been more specific.

Oh well, he was probably messing with him anyway.

 Today he’s supposed to watch Wolffe’s batch train-- well, he’s not the only one of course: the cadets are occasionally granted a chance to see the older ones train and then give their own assessments on it; it’s a way for them to develop critical thinking skills.

While all the other cadets are taking notes, however, Rex just stares at Wolffe wiping the floor with the training droids. He hasn’t missed his target once.

When his blaster malfunctions, instead of hiding or retreating, Wolffe presses forward, showcasing a great sense of determination. He plummets the droids with his bare fists, sending a wave of heat through Rex’s entire body as he thinks that now more than ever he would love to have a spar with him.

He shakes his head, lowering his gaze to the datapad in his hands. Right, he should write some notes down.

 It takes him just a moment to gain back his concentration; as much as he’d love to keep ogling at Wolffe, he also has a job to do, and he can’t afford his performance to be scarce.

He writes about adaptability, movement, observation of the enemy, fury. He knows he should also find something to critique - the longnecks looove when they do that - but what is there to critique? Wolffe is flawless.

Anyway, he’s doing pretty good by the time the siren signifying the end of the session begins to echo. Wolffe immediately takes off his helmet, a cocky smile on his face that makes all the heat in Rex’s body go to his face; he hopes nobody notices.

Then something happens: the bastard begins to look around and, seeing Rex between the other cadets, he winks at him. He winks.

At this point Rex is pretty sure his entire soul has left his body, though he keeps his face carefully blank as the cadets around his area begin to wonder about whom exactly that wink was pointed towards.

 Right, Rex isn’t alone. Even though he’s pretty sure Wolffe was looking at him, they’re far away from each other, so he might’ve just projected his own desires on him.

Still, it seems that he was really looking at him, so… Agh, he doesn’t know!

Asking Wolffe might be the solution, but how weird would that be? Pretty weird, in Rex’s opinion. Imagine going to someone and asking “Hey, you remember before, when you winked? Was that directed at me?”

Yeah… he’s not going to do that.

Still, what if he did actually wink at him. What should he do?

Again, mentioning it might make things weird, so maybe he should just pretend that nothing happened. Yes, this sounds like a great choice; he’s going to do just that.

 No matter how much he’s tempted to ask during the next days, he keeps his mouth shut.

It’s for the best.

 The unfortunate thing about Rex being younger that Wolffe, is that he still has some few months to spend on Kamino before being deployed. He’s not going to lie: he’ll miss his older friends.

In all this, he still hasn’t had the guts to confess to Wolffe, and neither he understood what Cody meant with that “you’ll see”, or what that wink was for, admitting that it was actually pointed at him. So many mysteries and he hasn’t found the solution to even one of them.

Well, not that he’s thinking about that now, no. Now he’s moping around because it’s their day of deployment, meaning that for a while Rex will have to make do without them. He doesn’t like it.

 It’s his fault, he realizes, for having gotten attached to them and, more importantly, to the protection they granted him. He should’ve relied only on himself but instead he became too dependent from their support.

Things are definitely going to get harder for him, but he’s not afraid of decommissioning anymore, not when he’s the best of his entire batch. The longnecks would be dumb to get rid of such a promising asset.

 Tap tap.

“Hey, Rex? You there?”

Rex shakes his head. R-Right: he’s supposed to wait for them to get their armor on so that he can give them his last goodbyes before - hopefully - meeting all back on the battlefield, but instead he’s closed himself inside his head.

Of course, the one who had to shake him back to reality is Wolffe.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Wolffe jokes, though Rex can see that he’s tense. He raises an eyebrow at him, questioningly.

 Instead of answering, Wolffe looks around. Everyone else is ready, just like him.

“Um…” he begins then, talking to his batchmates, “You go on. I’ll catch up in a moment.”

Nobody comments on the reason why he said such a thing. Ponds chuckles while Fox rolls his eyes.

“Finally!” Bly says, and the three of them begin to walk away, followed by Cody who pats Wolffe on the back and ruffles Rex’s hair - he still hasn’t stopped doing that.

“See you soon, vod’ika.”

“See you soon…”

 Thus, Wolffe and Rex end up completely alone.

“Wolffe,” Rex begins to ask, “What exactly do you--”

“You are the most oblivious motherkriffer I’ve ever seen.”

Rex wants to know why he would tell him something like that, but when Wolffe surges forward kissing him on the lips, he thinks he gets it: in the end, his crush wasn’t as one-sided as he thought.

The winking episode comes to mind immediately. Kriffing hells, he really is dumb then: instead of accepting the reality as it was, he made up excuse to think that Wolffe didn’t actually wink at him.

Was this what Cody meant all along? The asshole should’ve just told him already!

 When they pull away, Rex can only think about the fact that he’s just kissed Wolffe, no, that he has been kissed by Wolffe.

“Seriously,” Wolffe begins then, continuing what he was saying before, “How could you not--”

This time it’s Rex’s turn to interrupt him with a kiss. It feels too good to be true but he’ll be damned if he lets this opportunity pass, not when he’s wasted so much time convincing himself that Wolffe didn’t see him that way.

Well, what matters is that it’s happening now.

 This time, when they pull away, they do it only because they’re both out of breath.

“Sorry…” Rex can’t help but to mutter then, but Wolffe shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s my fault, I should’ve just asked you out instead of going around it,” he replies, then he smiles. “At least we got there, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Rex replies, returning the smile. “So… See you on the battlefield?”

“Yes,” Wolffe replies, before his expressions turns serious again. “I’ll wait for you.”

 They kiss one last time before Wolffe walks away to join the others, with Rex following him with his gaze until he disappears from his view.

On one hand, he feels empty, but on the other… It’s weirdly exciting: it won’t be long before Rex will be deployed as well, meaning that they’ll really see each other in battle soon.

Will Wolffe have changed by the time they meet again? Will Rex have changed? He doesn’t know the answer to these questions, but of one thing he’s certain: he can’t wait.

[firewoodwander]

To the robin on the window ledge — Wolffe/Comet

For @parkkrys and her amazing Sugar Daddy au!! Christmas & holiday fluff for the Clone Haven gift exchange 🤍 Love you lots x

Read on ao3 or below the cut

No warnings, rated G. Full image on ao3 — fair warning, I cannot draw backgrounds.

Summary:

Woken by birdsong and the bright light of winter outside his window, Wolffe sighs and shuffles to tangle his legs with those of the sweet thing in his arms. Comet’s chest rises and falls with his gentle breathing, his skin warm and soft as Wolffe cuddles him close under the covers, and his fingers cling to Wolffe’s arm as if there’s any chance he’d ever let go.

When Comet slips back into wakefulness, he finds himself tucked under the most beautiful feeling of comfort and warmth he could imagine. In his sleep he’s managed to curl around and cling to a familiar arm wrapped around his middle, holding him, hugging him like an over-large pillow, and now he sighs and runs his hand along sleep-warmed skin, through Wolffe’s fur and over scars, up to reach his shoulder. Wolffe stirs behind him, his arm tightening and pulling him into the hot curve of his body, and Comet splays his fingers as he turns his head, stretching his spine languidly.

“Good morning,” he murmurs. Wolffe groans quietly and pulls him in, cradled closer again against his bare chest. Comet laughs. “Mm hm, hello to you too.”

Wolffe smiles and combs his fingers gently through the ends of Comet’s long and curly hair. When he replies his voice is low, affectionate, and so soft like it nearly never is when they’re fully awake.

“Merry Christmas, Starboy.”

Comet gasps. “Merry Christmas!” Suddenly bright and energised, he turns in Wolffe’s arms and leans up to flutter kisses over every inch of him he can reach, persisting amidst half-hearted protests until Wolffe snorts and stops him with a kiss to the cheek.

“Your phone’s been lighting up all morning,” he tells him fondly, brushing his thumb under the corner of Comet’s eye. Comet sags at the thought of leaving the circle of Wolffe’s embrace—or even just turning over again, really, he’s comfortable here—and is pleasantly surprised when the offending phone is dangled in front of his face without him needing to move an inch.

“Wooley!” he murmurs gleefully, swiping open his messages and showing Wolffe the picture he’s been sent. Today is breakfast in bed from Boil, it seems, though that’s secondary to the unbearably smug way Wooley’s stretched between his two doting boyfriends as he takes the picture, both of them with fingers intertwined and eyes only for each other and their third.

Comet taps out an excited reply before holding out his arm to take his own photo, dropping a kiss to Wolffe’s shoulder when he only gives a token grumble.

“I love you,” he says, once he’s seen to the rest of his notifications and clicked his phone off again. He winds his arms around Wolffe’s neck and buries his face beside them. “I love you so much.”

The hand leaves his hair to be able to wrap both huge arms around Comet’s waist, scruff grazing his chin when Wolffe turns to kiss his cheek and ear. “You have no idea how much I love you too.”

Comet smiles. His chest is bubbly with excitement, with gratitude, with his barely-contained adoration. He snickers. “I think I do a little bit.”

Another snort and Wolffe lets him pull away to look down at his face again. “Smartass,” he says. “Cody texted. Says he and that chakaar send their best.”

“Alpha is nice,” Comet reminds him. “They even sent us a card. You know he’s probably the only reason—”

“I know,” Wolffe cuts him off gently. “I know, it’s just…”

“That’s your little brother.”

“Yeah.” Wolffe falls silent for a moment. Comet watches his eyes, one brown and one pale ivory, go distant for all of a few seconds before snapping back to meet his gaze. “And the damn man should know better than to be going after my brother.”

With a giggle, Comet finally works up the strength to tear himself away from his favourite place on earth and roll out of bed. He’s not worried about Wolffe’s slightly antagonistic relationship with Alpha—they always end up chatting over a drink or two in the end, anyway.

He pulls his jeans off the chair in the corner and wanders over to the wardrobe to pull out a fresh top, stretching out his arms and rolling his neck as he goes.

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder, to where Wolffe is propped up enticingly on his side among the sheets and is watching him with appreciation. “I was promised we could make pancakes for breakfast before we leave.”

The turtleneck stretches over his shoulders and settles loosely under his jaw, just about perfect for hiding the numerous marks and bites he’s far too proud of to mask or soothe. By the time he’s pulled his jeans and socks on and is brushing his hair, ready to tie, Wolffe has grunted and pulled himself out of their nest to wander out and plaster himself to Comet’s back again.

“Wolffe,” he grins to their reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Wolffe, baby, I can’t move.”

“Good,” Wolffe tells his neck. “Keep you here forever to hold and cuddle and spoil.”

“Brush your teeth,” is all Comet tells him when he tries to kiss his way up to his lips. He wets their brushes and hands Wolffe his, amused when he doesn’t even bother with toothpaste before he shoves it in his mouth, and happy to regain full movement to finish tying off his braid when he does. Wolffe wastes no time once they’re done, chasing Comet’s mouth and staggering all the way back to the bedroom with him.

Comet smiles and kisses him once, twice, cheeky and lingering things, before thwapping him in the side with a jumper. “Put some clothes on, I want Christmas pancakes.”

“Yes dear,” Wolffe concedes. “And you can check to see if Santa ate those cookies while you’re there.”

Comet blushes and fiddles with the corners of his phone. The screen lights up to show a number of interesting emojis in the preview of Wooley’s reply, along with the first few words of a horribly rude song from Sinker. He smiles, bashful, when Wolffe looks over again.

“Thank you,” he says eventually. It’s a loaded statement, filled with things he doesn’t really know how to say, or when to say, but he thinks they might come across anyway, especially with the way his boyfriend’s face softens.

Finally dressed, Wolffe comes back to stand in front of him. He slides his hand over Comet’s cheek, his fingers curling behind his ear, and watches him with emotion enough to make tears threaten to well behind Comet’s eyes.

“Starboy, if there’s something I can give you, something I can do for you, especially as harmless as a few cookies on a plate, I won’t hesitate to make it happen.” Comet ducks his head and Wolffe lets him, lifting his other hand to hold Comet’s face between them like something precious. “I love you. You give me so much and I have… Not a lot to offer in return. Of course I’ll look after you, my cyare, of course I want to make you happy.”

“You being with me makes me happy,” Comet argues quietly. “And even if you were right, you’re more than enough just by yourself.”

Wolffe smiles and tilts Comet’s head back up to kiss him slowly, softly, and oh so sweetly. His lips are a wonder against Comet’s, never failing to flare golden warmth through his chest and down through his navel, always so loving and heated. Comet sighs and leans against his chest, hands at Wolffe’s hips and fingers hooking through his belt loops.

Wolffe breaks away quietly and rests their foreheads together, brushing the tips of their noses and smiling. “Think of it as an extra Christmas present from me to you.”

Comet bites his lip and nods before drawing away. Wolffe grins and pats his backside as he passes to get the door, holding it open and following him through in a suspiciously good mood.

“Come on, breakfast pancakes, and then we can open that huge box Rex and Boba and the twins sent.”

With a click of his tongue Comet rolls his eyes and looks back teasingly over his shoulder. “You’re just hoping it’s a few sets of those new Lego bombers and gliders lines, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?” Wolffe defends. “I get to have fun, you get to have a few hours of peace and quiet, everyone’s happy.”

“I get several hours of you rambling about planes. Not that I’m complaining, you’re very interesting, but don’t fool yourself into thinking you can behave with that much enabling.”

“Now that is blatantly false, I am not that bad—”

“Wolffe, we can’t even get through a full movie without you telling me something or other about the engine or propellor or fuel lines of the model they’re using…”

When Wolffe flicks on the switch that lights up the decorations in the living room, Comet can’t help but grin like a small child seeing it all for the first time all over again. There’s something about all the glitter and colour and light and the snow on the window sills that he can never get over, that makes him giddy every time he has the time to look around and take it in.

He leans back into Wolffe’s chest as they stand in the doorway, safely ensconced in his arms once more, and wonders how he ever got so lucky in his life.