#clone wars one shot

[rexmeshlasblog]

Give up?!

Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader

Summary: Jedi Reader wants to train during shore leave, ‘cause she got defeated by Ventress on their last mission. Commander Wolffe offers himself as her sparring partner.

Word count: 1700 words

Warnings: feelings, fluff, battle, fighting, war, use/mentioning of guns and war stuff, use of Y/N, Female MC, mentions of loss, intimate moment, cuteness, sexual tension, flirting, teasing, scared of losing in a match and losing people, bit angsty maybe?, Canon typical violence

A/N: Let me know if you like how I write Wolffe and what I could do better. (Not just with character arc but also with my writing style) thank you for reading.

Ps I just found this in my drafts from like a year ago and thought its time to finally post it.

Where the kriff was he? Commander Wolffe, my sparring partner on this evening, was late for our first session. Normally he was always in time, but today, when the 104th left the cruiser for shore leave, he wasn’t.

I was walking up and down the training room while waiting. Biting my lip and clenching my fists over and over again. It made me more anxious than it should, that he made me wait for him.

Maybe he just forgot our arrangement, which consisted of him training with me my hand to hand combat skills, but I hoped he didn’t. I needed him to get better and back in my original shape.

Our last mission was a pretty tough one. We lost good men and friends. They were a part of this family and I wasn’t good enough to safe all of them. It was a misery.

To our surprise Ventress was with the droid army and I had to fight against her. While I tried my best to protect my men and myself I wasn’t able to defeat the woman with her red lightsabers. She was too strong and I too distracted at the wrong moment. Which she used.

Master Plo Koon was the one who had to save me. Luckily he came right in time as Ventress was about to shatter my heart. She nearly killed me and when I closed my eyes just a bit I still felt the heat of her lightsaber on my skin.

A shiver ran through me. It was a close one this time. Death was never as near as in this exact moment. Her lightsaber was on me and ready to slide right through. Thats what this thing was made for, but still I quite couldn’t believe how fast I could’ve been dead. There were screams around me from different troopers. Barking commands. It was Wolffe who screamed my name as Ventress was about to kill me. I’d looked at him as he tried to reach me, but he was way too far away to save me. As I reached through his force signature I just felt pure panic and angst. We held eye contact for what felt like forever before I noticed the figure appearing behind me. My old beloved Master was the hero in last minute. After all I came away with a scar on my chest. Lucky me.

The day after, when I still had to be in the medbay, the Commander offered me to train with him. At least for the time in shore leave. Then we’d see how much progress I made and decide if I’d still need his training, but I was confident that I’d need it. Obviously I would ask him to keep training with me, not just, because I wanted to stay in shape and don’t want to get killed as easily. But also because I kinda had a thing for the grumpy Commander with just one original eye.

“There you are”, I greeted him with a small smile.

Wolffe finally arrived only grunting something, which you could call one of his friendlier greetings. I was grateful that he didn’t seem in the baddest mood. Surprising that I could tell by now how his mood was depending on how he grunted and furrowed his eyebrows. Wolffe was a grumpy one and so you had to check the waters before you let the cat slip out of the bag. When I saw him hours ago he was shouting at some Shinies which broke the caf machine. A hilarious picture to look at. Wolffe had this big furrow between his eyebrows and that annoyed look in his eyes and was obvious on the edge of his nerves while the Shinies looked like they wanted to run away as fast and as wide as they were able to do.

Wolffe was only in his blacks as I noticed now. Showing off his muscles and letting zero to the imagination. I gulped feeling the heat in my cheeks growing. Kriffing maker.

“What would you like to start with, General?”, he asked politely. His voice sounded deeper than normally. If he noticed my darkening cheeks, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Maybe some simple sparring? Just starting easy in this session.“ Starting easy. Yes, for sure.

Wolffe only nodded. I knew that the clones were good at fighting. Not just with their blasters, but also with their hands and body’s. So it was clear that it would be a difficult task to defeat Wolffe.

A few seconds later I was already on the floor again. I stopped counting after the fifth time. And I was a Jedi? Not even able to protect myself without my lightsaber and the force. How should I protect others then?

Above me Wolffe smirked a grin right out of hell. He was enjoying this far too much. 

“Already giving up, General?“ One eyebrow raised a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. There was a sparkle in Wolffes eyes one I rarely saw and which he only showed when he was truly in the mood for some fun.

“You think I’m defeated after a few times on the ground? Then you don’t know me well enough, Commander.“ With a simple jump I was right back on my feet. My arms in front of me in a defensive position. Wolffe switched into fighting position right away, but not before giving me a sarcastic eye roll. He really was one of a kind.

“Then we keep going.“ Wolffe murmured more to himself.

Half an hour was going by. Wolffe only hitting the floor a few times when I remembered some old Jedi tricks from time to time. But now, while he was also slowly losing his power, his movements were slower and less precise. A advantage I’d happily use. I had saved my strength to be able to counterattack at the right moment, when he’d get more tired.

Just as Wolffe was about to punch me in the stomach, a spot I had deliberately left uncovered, I grabbed his other arm, twisted it behind his back and threw him to the ground, all while also pulling his feet away. Too bad I hadn't calculated that he could pull me along with him, because that's exactly what he did. Wolffe grabbed my jedi robe and I fell right with him to the floor. Me above him. For a second I hesitated before I used the position to pin his arms and legs with my own. I got him. The big bad Wolffe was defeated.

“Give up?“ I asked out of breath. Wolffes breathing was as heavy and loud as my one while his chest brushed over mine with every deep breath he and I took. I felt his breath on my lips. His pupils were blowing wide and sweat visible on his forehead. He smelled better than I expected. More like himself and less like everyone else on the ship. More like the real Commander and not the cheap lemon soap the Clones got.

As I noticed now he was wearing a small smirk again. “You should know better.“ And with that he used his power and rolled us over. Now he was on top of me. One of his legs between mine while he pinned my hands above my head. Wolffe was obviously stronger and every attempt to break free failed.

“Give up, Mesh`la?“ Eyebrows raised and a confident smile was all I could see. Kriff, he really got me now. Unless I’d use this situation and my body to my advantage.

“I don’t know, you tell me Wolffe“, I whispered against his lips.

Wolffe growled under his breath before he brushed his lips against mine. Now I got him where I wanted.

“You’re doing things to me you don’t know ‘bout“, he mumbled deeply and I was sure that he felt my heart drumming against his chest. Wolffe had this special power over me and it was clear that I made him feel the same way. We never spoke about our feelings, but we both knew, that this between us was something more than a friendship. Maybe a dangerous game, because if anyone found out about our mutual feelings, they would take each other away from us. After the war, I always told myself, maybe after the war there’d be an opportunity to get together, but not now.

Wolffes hands which pinned mine loosened its grip while one of it went straight to my waist. His eyes were hooded and his breath was quicker than usual. The Commander really thought our little game was over.

“Maybe you should tell or show me then.“

His breath hitched after my respond, “I don’t want to scare you off.“ His eyes were showing pain I’d never seen in them before. Was he scared of losing me? He could never. I knew about his reputation. He was the big bad wolf the little Shinies and other clones were afraid of. But I wasn’t scared of his hard case. I actually adored it. It made him intriguing.

“I’m a Jedi. It’s not easy to scare me off, Wolffe. And you’re definitely not someone I could ever be scared of.“

He shrugged, wanting to say something, but before he could, I wrapped my legs around his hips and turned us over once again.

“Who has the upper hand now?“ I smirked. This time pining him, so he couldn’t roll us over once again.

“Looks like you won this time, Cyare.“

“Obviously, Commander.“

I got up to my feet, before giving Wolffe a helping hand which he agreed to take. This little moment between us was over.

“But I don’t think the Clankers will fall for a move as such.“ Was all he said all while giving my butt a little smack, as I was slowly walking away. All I could do was smirk. Typical Wolffe.

I winked at him, “You aren’t one of the Droids and also, it was a move I specially made up for you.“

Wolffe crossed his arms, not before giving me one last of his typical eye rolls. “See ya, Wolffie.“

I heard him chuckle while walking away. Excited how our next interaction would go on.

[that-dumb-dinosaur]

look me in the eye and tell me this isn't one of the coolest shots in any star wars tv episode. and don't even get me started on when his voice overlapped with Vader's-

[ahhrenata]

‘how quickly power can change hands’ | X |

[freesia-writes]

Kenobi and Hondo… a favorite combo 🤣👏🏻👏🏻

Filed Under: Payroll Complaints

Words: 1,108

Summary: As an office worker living on Coruscant, you had little to no understanding of what the war was like. The only reason you even got a glimpse of it was because you worked in the front office of the GAR.

or alternatively: a collection of voicemails found on your answering machine, all proving one irrefutable truth: that you (and all of the clone commanders) really deserved a raise.

Note: i have no idea where this idea came from, but i cracked open some wine and stayed up way too late writing this (it's currently quarter after midnight. i really need to go to bed) but i hope you enjoy it!! i'm dedicating this to my lovely friend @captainsophiestark, who has asked to be tagged when i posted this fic! it is probably the least "standard" reader fic i've ever written, but i liked the idea of using a reader character to frame the narrative, even if there isn't much importance to them :)

ao3 link || clone troopers masterlist

“Hello, you’ve reached the Grand Army of the Republic’s front office. If you know the extension of your party, you can dial it at any time. If you need to contact the Jedi Temple, please press 1. To reach the Kaminoan cloning facility, press 2. To get in touch with the Coruscant Guard, press 3 in the case of an emergency and 4 for the office of Commander Fox. If you’re interested in enlisting or aiding in the war effort in any way, please press 5. If you would like to speak to someone in our payroll and budgeting department, press 6. For all other inquiries, press 7. To listen to these options again, please remain on the line or press 8.”

Those were the options everyone got when they commed the number posted for the GAR. And half the time, those calls went to you in the payroll department. Rarely did they ever contain requests, demands, or complaints that you could ever do anything about, but they were entertaining (if nothing else).

you have *:･ﾟ✧ eight ✧ ﾟ･:* new messages

“Six.”

“Jesse.”

“What, Fives?”

“You have to press the button, not say the number.”

“I knew that. I did both.”

“Who are you even calling anyway?”

“Payroll.”

“But we don’t even get paid.”

“Exactly! I’m going to fix that”

“I don’t think this message is really selling it vod.”

“Oh kriff, is this thing already recording?”

“Rex is going to kill you.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“Are you in charge of the budget? My name is General Skywalker, I wanted to talk to you about getting some new weaponry but General Kenobi seems to think that most of the GAR’s funding has already been allocated for this quarter. If he’s right, no need to call me back, but if there’s a few credits left laying around, please contact me as soon as possible. My troops and I have some ideas that might benefit more than just the 501st and would love to put our thoughts into action. If you want to get in touch, just contact Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo, she’ll be able to reach me.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“Hello, this is Commander Thorn of the Coruscant Guard. I understand you’ve been in contact with Fox about new equipment for our commanding officers? Look, is there any way that we can divert those funds to cover a new caf machine and grounds that don’t actually taste like dirt? The commander would never ask for it himself, but in my personal opinion the effectiveness of the force would drastically increase if we didn’t have to drink the equivalent of Endorian mud water every morning when we came in to our shift. More so than if we got all new weapons and equipment. I heard that the 212th got a fancy caf machine with the excess funds from the last budget redraw, did their general have anything to do with it or could we have always just asked for it? Either way, let me or Fox know the status of the request as soon as possible. Thorn out.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“This is General Kenobi. I’m calling to hopefully precede a communication you may receive from a pirate called Hondo Ohnaka asking for monetary compensation. Whatever he will claim that he has done for the Republic is likely nothing but trickery and lies, and there is certainly no reason to feel threatened by him. If you receive more than one communication from him or his crew, please reach out to me and I’ll handle the situation. If there is anything else you or the GAR office in general needs, you can always reach out to me or Commander Cody as well.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“Alright, I have gotten through to the payroll and budget department. What supplies do we need at this point, Tech?”

“More explosives!”

“Wrecker, I highly doubt that the GAR’s payroll and budget receptionist will have the power to clear that kind of request. And besides, Hunter asked me, not you.”

“So what are you going to get? Better goggles?”

“No, he’ll just ask for a new ship to ruin.”

“You are all incredibly rude. My requests are based on when I took inventory of the medical supplies and tools on the ship. Speaking of which, maybe you should ask for more toothpicks, Crosshair.”

“I hate you all.”

“Guys, come on. We-”

But before the one calling could get through the rest of his sentence, a beep echoed from the answering machine, signaling the end of the communication on your line.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“This is Hondo, the greatest pirate in the galaxy calling to collect on what is owed to me. Kenobi should have informed you that I will be in touch. Don’t believe anything he said about me, my service was invaluable to your war effort and I believe that it is only right for me to ask for what I am owed. Please call back and I will give you the full itinerary of my grievances, and if you don’t, I will not hesitate to break in and take what I want myself. I hope to speak soon.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“How many massif treats do you think we need to get our point across, Sinker?”

“I don’t know, I feel like we should at least get a box or two, and send some to the Guard as well. Hound is always talking about how they need treats for Grizzer down there.”

“So should we really be dumping a bunch of them on the Commander’s bunk then?”

“Probably not, but if I had to walk around for an entire campaign with blue in my hair because of him, then he’s going to have to deal with the consequences.”

“I don’t know, I thought you looked nice!”

“Yeah, maybe if I was part of the 501st.”

“Good point, two boxes it is. Hopefully they got the message.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“Hello, this is Kix, CT number 6116 calling from the flagship Resolute. The 501st will be arriving for a week of shore leave in two rotations, and I wanted to inform you of the supplies that we need to replenish in the medbay so I could arrange it to be delivered before we are deployed again. Please call back as soon as you can, either the comm in the medbay or Captain Rex’s direct line should be able to reach me in the event I miss your call. Thank you!”

You have *:･ﾟ✧ zero ✧ ﾟ･:* new messages

As the machine beeped to signal the end of the messages, you sighed in relief.

At least that last one was both feasible and reasonable.

-the end-

(divider credit to djarrex)

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers!

Can I please request a fluffy enemies to lovers with a clone of your choice with the prompt “Did you just call me cute?”

Would love to see any! Female reader if possible. Thanks! 💓

Up Close and Personal 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 3.9k

prompt:

• “Did just call me cute?”

Plot: When you accidentally let slip you thought Fox was cute, he grows curious and wonders if you still think the same under the helmet.

Warnings: Safe for work, grumpy/sunshine trope, teasing, awkward moments, flirting, kissing, mutual pining, accidental confessions.

You’ve been working alongside the Coruscant Guard for a while now, handling everything from delivering reports to managing routine tasks that help keep the operation running smoothly. Most of the clones greet you with a warm smile and friendly chatter when you drop by.

You were cheerful and always had a smile on your face, nothing ever seeming to phase you.

But when it comes to Commander Fox, he doesn’t seem to match your enthusiasm. Where others find a moment to chat or joke around, Fox’s response is always the same: curt and dismissive.

You remember one time when you entered the office, probably a fortnight ago, laughing with Thire and Stone as you handed them their files. “You’re a lifesaver,” Thire had said with a sigh of relief and grin after his had miraculously gone missing. You of course always had extra, just in case.

Stone chuckled and added, “You’re the only reason we stay organised.”

Before you could reply, however, Fox cut in. His tone like durasteel. “Can you just leave the files and go? Some of us are trying to work.” He hadn’t even looked up, but the chill in his voice was unmistakable. You forced a smile, and rolled your eyes at his attitude when you left the office that day. It didn’t bother you as you were used to his moods but you couldn’t help wondering what it would take to get past that fickle exterior.

And despite his attitude, you had noticed Fox’s subtle care for his brothers; something you found rather endearing. You’ve caught him running silent armour checks, making sure everyone’s gear is spotless and in perfect order. Of course, it’s not about vanity but simply about keeping his men safe.

It’s those types of moments that make you think there’s more to him beneath the mask. Or helmet in this case.

Today, you decide to do something different. Rumors have been swirling that the Guard’s workload has been overwhelming lately. Crime in the lower levels is on the rise, and the boys are sadly running themselves ragged. So, you arrive at their station with a special treat: caf orders, each customised exactly how you know they like it.

You start with Commander Thire, who breaks into a grin as you hand him his cup. “You’re too good to us,” he says, taking a sip. “Thanks.”

Next is Stone, who raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Didn’t expect this today,” he says, taking the steaming cup. “But I’m not complaining.” He shoots you a wink. “You really know how to keep morale up.”

Sergeant Hound, busy tinkering with his gear with Grizzer snoozing at his feet looks up with a smile when you hand him his drink. “You actually remembered mine,” he says, sounding almost impressed. He takes a long sip before giving you a small nod. “Cheers. Really needed this.”

Finally, you approach Fox. He’s leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, watching you carefully through his visor. “I’ll assume you didn’t get me anything,” he says, voice as flat as ever.

You fight back a smirk and meet his gaze behind the visor. “You assume wrong, Commander.” You slide the cup across his desk. It’s strong, with a hint of sweetness—your best guess based on what you’ve observed. Alongside it, you place a small sweet treat and the stack of data devices you’ve been carrying. Oh, and you also could help but draw a small smiley face on the lid to his cup.

Fox doesn’t touch the drink. Instead, he gives a sharp nod. “Just leave it and go.”

You swallow your disappointment, trying to keep your smile from faltering. “Of course, sir.” You turn to leave, the brief flash of hurt lingering despite your best efforts to shrug it off. Huh, maybe it did get to you.

As you exit, you catch a glimpse of Thire, Stone, and Hound exchanging looks before Thire’s voice cuts through the room. “You know, Fox, a ‘thank you’ wouldn’t kill you.”

Fox remains silent, but you don’t stay long enough to see or hear his reaction. The door closes behind you, and you let out a quiet sigh.

Moments later, you hear quick footsteps behind you. “Hey, wait up!”

You turn to see Thire jogging to catch up. “Don’t take it personally,” he says, offering a sympathetic smile. “Fox is… well, Fox. If he didn’t like you at least a little, he wouldn’t let you stick around.”

You laugh softly, though the sting hasn’t fully faded. “Doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I know he’s under a lot of stress, but still…”

Thire nods, understanding in his eyes. “He’s got a funny way of showing appreciation. But trust me, we all see what you do for us, even if he doesn’t say it. You’re a bright spot in this whole mess.”

Your smile this time is more genuine, though still a bit weak. “Thanks, Thire. I just wish I could get through to him, you know?”

“Give it time,” Thire says, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He’ll come around. Until then, we’ve got your back.”

A few days later, you arrive with—surprise, surprise—yet another stack of files. You expect to find the usual group in the office, and sure enough, Thire, Stone, and Hound are all at their stations, busy with their tasks. But there’s one notable absence: Commander Fox. You glance around, scanning the room in curiosity.

Before you can ask, Stone notices the way you’re searching and smirks. “Looking for someone?”

Your cheeks warm slightly, realising you’ve been caught. “Nope,” you reply, a little too quickly. “Just… making sure I don’t miss anyone.”

Thire chimes in, an amused glint in his eye. “Sure, that’s what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes playfully, trying to play it off. “Honestly, you guys are worse than all those gossiping cadets and shinies.”

“Did Fox ever apologise for the other day?” Hound asks as you stand nearby, shifting through some flimsi. His question surprised you a little since you hadn’t truly thought about it until now. But, you shake your head with a dismissive wave. “Nah, but it’s fine. I’m used to him being a grump. Besides,” you add with a smile, “you lot make it worth coming around.”

But then Stone started to dig a little deeper as he leans back in his chair. “Did you think about what Thire said? About Fox not minding you hanging around?”

You bite your lip, remembering Thire’s words all too well. Now that did have you wondering for most of that night. For someone who always wanted you to go, he never actually told you to fully leave.

“Yeah, actually. It got me thinking… maybe he’s not as bothered by me as he pretends.” You pause, considering your next question. “Hey, have any of you actually seen him without his helmet?”

The three of them exchange glances before Thire nods, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “How do you think he downed that caf you brought him the other day?”

You lean back against the wall, arms crossed as you think it over but also a little smug knowing that Fox clearly liked your drink choice for him. “I always wondered what he looks like under there. Maybe he’s got some cool tattoos, or, like, bright red hair or something; to match the gear.”

Stone shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant. “Could do. But we’re not spilling anything.”

You narrow your eyes at them playfully, but before you can push further, you find yourself blurting out, “I mean, I bet he’s kinda cute.”

There’s a beat of silence before all three of them break into laughter. Hound gives you a teasing nudge. “So, you’ve got a crush on the boss now, huh?”

You wave them off, feeling your face flush. “No, I mean—well, no, yes, kinda? I don’t know!” You fumble with your words, realising you’ve put yourself in an awkward spot. You wouldn’t say it was much of a crush but you did admire him.

“It’s not like that. He’s just interesting, I guess. Annoying, but in a weird way, it’s kind of… cute?”

The boys exchange amused glances, and you’re about to defend yourself further when you notice all of their gazes suddenly lock onto something—or someone—behind you. The laughter dies down, and your stomach drops.

Before you can even turn around, a deep voice rumbles from directly behind you. “Did you just call me cute?”

You freeze, feeling your blood run cold. Slowly, you turn to face Fox, who’s standing there with his arms crossed, his helmeted visor trained directly on you. You can’t tell what expression he’s wearing underneath, but the deadpan delivery of his question makes you want to disappear into the nearest ventilation system.

“I—uh…” you stammer, utterly at a loss. “Well, you see—”

Thire, Stone, and Hound are barely holding in their snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Fox’s posture remains unyielding as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

You finally manage a weak shrug. “I mean sure, why not?”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence, and you’re certain you’ll never live this down. But then, just when you think it couldn’t get worse, Fox turns his helmet slightly as if considering your words. “Interesting,” is all he says before he strides past you, not giving anything away.

The room erupts in laughter as soon as he’s out of earshot, leaving you standing there, cheeks burning, as Thire claps you on the back. “Well, if that’s not a confession, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

Stone grins. “Nope. But hey, at least now you’ve got him wondering.”

You playfully slap Stone’s arm with the thick stack of flimsi you were holding. “You’re impossible, you know that?” you tease, but there’s a grin on your face despite your embarrassment.

Stone just chuckles, dodging away from your reach. “You make it too easy, kid.”

Shaking your head, you wave the guys off. “Okay, I’m leaving before I say anything else stupid. You’ll just have to survive without me for a bit.”

As you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, and although your cheeks are still warm, you can’t help but smile.

Over the next week or two, you notice that Fox isn’t in his office as much. You’re not one to pry, but eventually, Thire lets it slip that it’s the Supreme Chancellor who’s been keeping him busy, not the fact that he might be avoiding you. “He’s been running all over the place on Palpatine’s orders,” Thire had said. “Trust me, it’s not about feeling awkward with you around.”

You nod, but you can’t help the nagging thoughts that linger. Still, you push them aside, deciding it’s better not to dwell on it.

One afternoon, you arrive at the office, balancing a tray with the usual caf orders and some sweet treats. It’s become a bit of a weekly ritual now, something the guys seem to look forward to. But today, when you step inside, the office is eerily quiet—no Thire, no Stone, no Hound. And non-surprisingly, no Fox.

You frown, setting the tray down on the nearest desk. “Hello?” you call out, but the only response is the hum of the overhead lights.

Shrugging, you decide to leave everything on their desks for when they return. You place each clone’s drink down, making sure their reports are organised alongside them.

When you reach Fox’s desk, you pause. It’s a bit messier than usual, the clutter showing signs of someone who’s been overworked and stretched thin. Your brows furrow in concern as you instinctively start tidying up, sorting the files and stacking the more urgent ones on top.

As you organise his drawers, you’re about to close one when something catches your eye. An empty caf cup, tucked away almost like it’s been hidden. You pull it out and recognise it immediately—it’s the cup you gave Fox the other week, the one with the little smiley face you drew on the lid. Your heart skips a beat. He kept it.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the cup, a small, unexpected warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe there’s more to his gruff exterior than you first thought. Maybe he does have a soft spot for you, even if he won’t admit it.

“Can I help you?”

You jump, nearly dropping the cup as you whirl around to face the door. There stands Fox, his arms tucked behind his back, his gaze unreadable behind his helmet.

“Fox—Commander!” you stammer, hastily shoving the cup back into the drawer and closing it. “I was just… fixing things.” Your voice trails off as you awkwardly step away from his desk, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, and you feel your pulse quicken. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you.”

“Oh! Sure, of course!” You’re flustered now, your mind racing. “Is it about the reports? Or maybe the supply request? Or—”

“No.”

You clamp your mouth shut, cheeks burning as you mentally curse yourself for rambling. You stand there in silence, waiting for him to continue, while he circles around you with the careful precision of someone used to keeping others off balance. His presence is commanding (oh the irony), making the room feel smaller as he closes the distance between you.

“I had overheard something the other day,” he says, his voice low, almost conversational. “You were wondering what I looked like. Wondering if I had tattoos, colorful hair…” He trails off, his tone giving nothing away.

“I—uh—well, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious, you know? I hope you didn’t take offense, Commander. It wasn’t—”

He stops in front of you, so close now that you can see your own reflection in the dark visor of his helmet as you crane your neck to look at him. “Why not?” he asks, cutting off your nervous rambling. “Do you not want to know if I’m ‘cute’ or not?”

The words hang in the air between you, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His tone isn’t mocking, but there’s a subtle challenge in his voice, as if daring you to admit something you haven’t even fully acknowledged to yourself.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, searching for a response. “I—I mean… maybe?”

His head tilts slightly, as if studying you. “You know, I rarely remove my helmet. It’s part of who I am, part of the uniform. Most people never see what’s underneath.”

“I get it,” you say quickly, eager to reassure him. “It’s not like I need to know. You’re still you, helmet or not.”

But as you speak, he moves closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “And yet, you’re curious.”

Your gaze flicks up to meet his visor, the tension thick enough to cut through. “Maybe a little,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

You think he’s about it leave, a small stagger in his step. But instead of stepping back as you expect, he reaches up and, with a slow and deliberate motion, removes his helmet.

Your breath catches in your throat. You were expecting him to look like the other clones but nothing prepared you for this.

His hair, salt and peppered with a few streaks of silver, is slightly messy but still shows a hint of soft curls. Framing his face in a way that’s both rugged and refined. But it’s his eyes that catch your immediate attention.

A deep, rich brown, just like his brothers but darkened by exhaustion. Yet somehow still smolder with an intensity that makes your heart stop. They’re striking, alive with an alluring warmth that makes it hard to look away.

You’re utterly speechless, barely registering that your mouth has gone dry. He’s not just cute; he’s absolutely gorgeous. His lips curve into a knowing smirk as he tilts his head at you, clearly gauging your reaction.

“So, tell me…” he drawls, his tone soft and low as he notices your gaze drifting to his lips, “how ‘cute’ am I?”

Your mouth opens, but the words you want to say get stuck somewhere in your throat. You feel a sudden heat rising to your cheeks and creeping down your neck, making you feel warm under the collar. For months, you had wondered what it would be like to be this close to him, to hear his voice without the filter of that helmet, to feel his presence in an almost tangible way. Now, with his breath fanning your face, it’s almost overwhelming.

“You’re… you’re…” You struggle to find the right words, but everything comes out in stutters as your brain short-circuits under the intensity of his gaze.

Fox leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours, his lips still curved in that teasing smirk. “Mhmm? I’m what?” There’s a playful and teasing lilt in his voice as he inches nearer, clearly enjoying how flustered you’ve become.

Before you know it, you’ve backed up until you’re nearly pressed against the edge of his desk; close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, and it’s impossible to think straight. Your pulse feels like it’s pounding in your ears. Especially as he leans in even further, the distance between you shrinking until it’s nearly nonexistent.

His breath is warm against your skin as he adds, “Come on, I’m waiting. You were so curious before. For someone so chatty, you have gone awfully quiet. Why’s that?”

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, but the only thing you can focus on is how close he is, how those deep brown eyes are watching your every reaction, and how his lips look infuriatingly soft. Finally, you manage to stammer out a broken, barely coherent, “You’re… more than cute.”

Fox chuckles as he straightens slightly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good answer.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, brushing a hand through your hair, thinking this is the end of it. But he barely budges before asking, “Do you want to know what I think about you?”

Breath shaky, you avoid his eyes. “Let me guess… annoying… too talkative…”

“Distracting,” he cuts you off.

Before you can respond, his hands lift, gently cupping your face. You’re caught off guard as his thumbs brush tenderly over your cheeks. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the unexpected warmth of his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into it. His presence is all-consuming, his closeness dizzying as his nose lightly brushes against yours, sending sparks dancing down your spine.

His voice is low, rich with a sincerity that makes your heart race even faster. “I find you distracting. Beautiful and distracting.”

Before you can fully process his words, his lips capture yours in a kiss that’s impossibly gentle and utterly intoxicating.

It’s slow and unhurried, his lips moving against yours in a way that feels both tender and deliberate. Your eyes widen in surprise at first, hands raised but unsure where to place them.

Fox was kissing you. the Commander Fox was kissing you. You didn’t even know what this meant fully. Had he been harbouring feelings for you after all this time?

The initial shock soon melts away, your body relaxing into the kiss as your arms instinctively wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The feeling of the warmth of his mouth on yours, the soft press of his lips sending a sweet sent an addictive thrill through your veins. He’s steady and confident, guiding the kiss with a gentleness.

His hands remain on your face, anchoring you to the moment until one slides back to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair that makes you gasp against his lips.

You can’t help but chase after his lips, the slow and tender rhythm of the kiss drawing you in deeper. He’s all you can think about—the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he’s holding you as though you’re something precious.

Fox finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes, those deep, mesmerising brown orbs, search yours as if he’s looking for something—confirmation, maybe, or understanding. You’re not sure, but whatever he sees in your gaze seems to settle something inside him.

His thumb sweeps over your cheek again, a soft, almost absent-minded caress as he holds you there, still so close. “You have no idea how distracting you are,” he murmurs, his voice hushed.

You’re left breathless, your heart racing in your chest as you blink up at him, dazed by it all. “You… you kissed me,” you whisper, your body still flushed against his as you try to piece things together.

“I did,” he replies softly, his hands now moving to rest on your waist, grounding you in the moment. “Is it okay that I did?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess it’s just… I thought you didn’t like me.” You pull back slightly, leaning against the desk this time. He looks down at you, his gaze unexpectedly soft.

“I’ll admit I haven’t been the kindest to you,” he says, a touch of regret in his tone. “The lads gave me an earful the other day.”

“So, was it a guilt kind of kiss or…?” you mumble, sincerely hoping it wasn’t.

Fox’s eyes widen slightly, and he quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he exclaims, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m not great at showing how I feel, and hearing you call me ‘cute’… it pushed me in the right direction. Made me realise I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t care.”

His sincerity catches you off guard. “Oh,” you say, your voice small but relieved.

He offers you a small smile, the kind that’s rare for him, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “So, would you consider going for drinks with me tonight?” he asks, his tone hopeful but tinged with the same guardedness that’s always been there.

The hesitation in his voice makes you understand how much this moment means to him, and you can’t help but smile back with a genuine, warm smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you reply softly.

Fox’s shoulders visibly relax, the tension you hadn’t even noticed finally easing as he nods. “Good,” he says, his voice low and a little rough around the edges. But there’s a warmth there now, something new that you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing before. “I, uh, have to get back to the Chancellor. I knew the others wouldn’t be here today, and I know your routine, so I figured I’d have time to speak to you before heading back.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “So, you’re not supposed to be here?”

“No, I’m not,” he admits with a somewhat sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have told the Chancellor I had an important matter to tend to.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Fox joins in with a chuckle, the sound rich and surprisingly pleasant, before he takes a final step toward you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “It was worth it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart skips a beat as he pulls back, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“Definitely.”

🌊 Masterlist is pinned 🌊

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[zoeykallus]

Hi, Zoey! Are your requests open? I had an idea after watching Kenobi.

There’s a scene in Kenobi where the Inquisitors show up to a market place in search of Jedi. They throw a knife at the shop owner knowing that the Jedi hiding among the patrons will stop the knife from harming him. It would be interesting to see that with Hunter.

Maybe Hunter and Cid’s bartender have a relationship. Bartender was weary of the clones at first but warmed up to them and liked Hunter. They just started dating when Inquisitors show up. They use the knife trick on someone (maybe even Omega) and bartender is forced to expose themselves as a former Jedi.

I’d love to see how Hunter would react to that.

oh oh oh oh... I got something in my head!

*Running in circles*

I actually had a scene like this in my head for a while now, I put the whole batch in there but focus on Hunter as a love interest.

Hunter x Jedi/Reader - One-Shot - The Things We Do For Love

Warnings: Angst/Canon Typical Violence/Blood/Fluff

No one knows about your past with the Jedi order. You are forced to drop your cover, when you try to save Hunter's life.

_______

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_______

It's strange, life after Order 66 - hiding, pretending to be someone else. And it doesn't get any easier every day as you'd hoped, at least not at first. Cid's Bar, that's where you ended up at some point. You work behind the counter. You serve all kinds of strange clientele. Cid's Bar is like a meeting place for all kinds of scum in the Galaxy. Life has changed, a lot. Priorities change. The code after you've lived so long is nowhere near as important as surviving and belonging somewhere so you're not completely alone in this universe. But you can't open up to anyone, not exactly the most decent people come and go here. So you keep a low profile. You even flirt here and there to keep up appearances, but at the same time, you keep everyone at a distance. And then, to make matters worse, these clones turn up. Automatically, every alarm sounds inside you. Order 66 flares up in your memory, sharp and painful. It takes so much willpower to stay calm, to not let anything get to you, so much trauma hangs in every thought of clones. No one knows who you are, no one even suspects that you were part of the Jedi Order.

And yet these men surprise you, especially one of them who leads the group. He is so thoughtful, so serious. Hunter always seems to be lost in thought, trying to keep everything under control, to ensure safety. He rarely leans back and really takes a breath. He's almost always worried and tense, you can feel it in the Force. But eventually, he thaws out, you somehow strike up a conversation, and you quickly learn how much depth and kindness lie beneath that brooding, skeptical exterior. Hunter can even be funny, very observant and above all else, he's decent, probably one of the most decent people to ever come and go in this bar. You catch yourself admiring him. Your eyes meet more and more often, you talk to each other more often, even flirt. But this flirting is different, it's not fake, it feels real, exciting and for you, with your past, completely new and almost reckless. You are both obviously interested in each other, just as you are both shy and cautious in a certain way. Weeks, even months go by before your hands touch for the first time, and he asks you out.

You can see it in his face, he can hardly believe it himself, hidden behind his smile is a nervous boy who is incredibly afraid of being rejected by you. The big, brooding leader has a great weakness, you. Of course, you say yes, you can hardly resist this special man, clone soldier or not, Hunter has so much good in him, he attracts you like a magnet, not to mention his good, bold looks do the rest.

It starts like any other evening. More or less. After your first date, Hunter usually comes into the bar smiling, automatically seeking your gaze as soon as he walks through the door. You can't help it, you smile back every time, accompanied by a warm tingling in your stomach, warmth rising in your cheeks and ears.

But something is different today. There is a presence in the room, dark, determined, hard as stone, surrounded by sharp edges. You sense this presence in the Force, its intransigence. You look around in alarm. The bar is a little busier today, your gaze wanders more or less inconspicuously around the room. Then you see him. You meet cold eyes, eyes as blue as sapphires, their gaze steely and sharp, so intense that you automatically lower your own gaze and distractedly clean a glass. But you know this person has already noticed you. Right now you're feverishly thinking about your next steps and how to get out of here alive without putting anyone in danger. Hunter frowns worriedly, watching you. He can tell something is wrong. Tech is talking to him, but he is focused on you right now. He leaves the table where he was sitting with his brothers and is about to come over to you when he hears a voice say clearly and distinctly, not shouting but loud enough, "CT 9901"

You feel hot and cold, a shiver runs down your spine, you're sure Hunter feels the same way, you can see it on his face. All the heads at the Bad Batch table look up in surprise, shock and alarm. Hunter turns to the voice that seems to be coming from one of the other tables a few meters away. A man suddenly stands up, slowly, unhurriedly, confidently. Like a predator who is sure of his prey, who has no reason to be afraid, no need to hurry. Neither you nor Hunter like the body language. What surprises you, however, is that this man, in his strange, dark uniform, is not looking for you as you expected, but obviously for Hunter and presumably his brothers. "All 99ers in one room, this must be my lucky day. And not only that, I feel like I'm getting a little something extra on top of that," the somber stranger says, his voice deep and clear, almost melodic.

The room falls silent, as if the presence of this man demands it. With a confident little smile, the man pulls a knife from his belt, the first movement is slow, almost sluggish, but the throw comes so suddenly that you barely have time to react. It has become so quiet in the bar that you could hear a pin drop. But when the blade suddenly seems to stop in mid-air barely a centimeter from Hunter's eye, a murmur goes through the room. You're sure you can hear someone whispering the word Jedi.

Hunter only lets out a quiet, "What the hell", he can't help but stare at the blade for a moment. He should be dead, he realizes, that vibro blade should have drilled into his skull, but there it is, hovering right in front of his face. Out of the corner of his eye he sees your outstretched hand, your concentrated gaze, and he begins to understand. You stopped the blade from killing him, you stopped it in its tracks. The stranger's cool voice draws you both back to him. "I knew I sensed a Jedi in the room, and I knew you couldn't resist to show yourself" In the next moment everything happens very quickly, there is no time to think, to process, to make plans. The man reaches out his hand, and you feel his grip on you in the force. You are swept over the bar counter, with a pull on your body, trough the force, knocking over two tables on your way to the floor. Everything around you happens in a haze, you hear Hunter cursing angrily, blaster shots, the distinctive buzz of an awakening lightsaber, screams from the other patrons. A red glow fills the room. The smell of burned flesh.

Your left side hurts. You landed hard on the tables when the Sith Force-wrenched you over the counter, maybe you cracked a few ribs. There are shards on the surrounding floor from the glasses that went down. As you try to pick yourself up, you accidentally reach in and cut your right palm. The pain is sharp, clear and distinct, bringing you back to reality from your surprise. You jump to your feet, skillfully, supported by the force that flows through and envelops you. It's been a long time since you've used the Force and your abilities in this way, but it's as if you've never let it out of your fingers, the lightsaber sliding into your hand, its blade glowing blue with its characteristic hum. Blood runs down the hilt of your weapon from the open cut on your hand, it burns, but you ignore the pain. You feel Hunter's gaze, he is still confused. He knows what you are now, but he certainly hasn't processed the news yet. At the moment, you all have other things to worry about. Did the Sith come alone? Are there Stormtroopers waiting for you outside the bar?

You concentrate on the force, on the intentions of your opponent. Everything you feel emanating from him is sharp, dark, glowing hot. He is driven by rage, and the moment your lightsabers cross, you feel all the hatred in his attacks, which are admittedly much stronger than you expected. You've never fought a real Sith before. The first touch of your lightsabers is like an electric shock, an incredibly hard impact, a wave of fury that seems to roll over you from your opponent. The hilt of your weapon is slippery with your own blood, you have to grab it hastily with both hands so that the sword doesn't slip from your grasp or your opponent will decapitate you. For a moment, Hunter's concern penetrates your perception, but you shut him out and have to concentrate. A quick exchange of blows follows, attack, parry, retreat, attack, parry... The handle of your weapon becomes increasingly slippery with your own blood. Then it happens, another hard blow, you parry, the impact of the blades causes your weapon to slip away.

You hear Hunter yell out, hear the shock in his voice, the terror in that simple word, "No!" His blaster lies on the ground, sliced in half by the Sith's blade. Hunter has pulled his knife from his belt in a split second, lunging in the Sith's direction. The blade of your attacker hovers just in front of your neck, you hold the Sith and his weapon in this position with all the strength you can muster with body and force. Your heart races, adrenaline flows through your body. There are only millimeters between your life and death. Millimeters before the red lightsaber could sever your head from your shoulders. Hunter reaches an arm around the Sith's neck and jabs his knife into his side. The sergeant's voice is dark and smoky as he rasps, "Not on my watch"

The red lightsaber goes out and falls to the ground. Hunter kicks it aside, away from the Sith's hands, and lets the mortally wounded attacker slide to the ground. You see Hunter's chest rise and fall, still electrified, while your adrenaline suddenly subsides and your hands begin to tremble a little. You concentrate on the force, your center, and banish the trembling from your limbs. With a sigh, you look at the man on the ground, who is taking his last breaths, his cold, sapphire eyes still looking up at you with hatred, but there is also reluctance in them, surprise, defiance. Echo kneels down next to him, feels his pulse. "Quite dead," he says dryly, and with a glance at your extinguished lightsaber, he asks, "Care to explain?" "Take it easy, Echo. I guess it's obvious why we're only finding out now, it would have been dangerous to reveal the truth," Hunter says calmly and steps closer, carefully grabbing your hand and looking at the cut.

"That needs stitching," Tech says with a sideways glance and adds, "I can do it when we get to the Marauder, we should get out of here, more will come" The others lead the way, Hunter and you follow at a slight distance. You can't quite believe it yet. CF99 accepts you into their midst, no ifs, no questions, yet. Admittedly, Echo is still a little skeptical, but he always is. But you're part of it now, you're no longer alone. The thought spikes a feeling of euphoria in you. "Looks like Clone Force 99 has its own Jedi now," Hunter says with a wry smile. You crack a smile, liking the idea, forgetting for a moment your bleeding hand and the drops of blood that fall to the ground and on your tunic. Crosshair, who is walking ahead of you, casts a jaunty glance over his shoulder and says dryly, "Just don't expect me to follow your orders, General." He says it with a wink, even if his words sound a little hostile, he is friendly to you, you sense his intentions in the Force.

You say quietly, "I wasn't going to give you orders, you have a working system as a group, I wouldn't dream of changing it" The Sniper laughs softly, "Clever Jedi" Hunter drops back a little, and you do the same, sensing that he has something to say to you. After a little while, on your way to the Marauder, he says seriously, "You gave up your cover to save my life, thank you" You chuckle and say softly, "The things we do for love" Hunter listens in surprise and asks, "So our dates aren't part of your cover?" You've opened up to him in the force, feeling his pulse, the tingling under his skin as if it were your own. "I would never play with your feelings, not even as a cover," you say seriously. Hunter breathes a sigh of relief and asks, "So nothing will change between us?" "I'd like us to continue our relationship and see where it takes us," you reply with a warm smile. You feel his relief, his affection, and you breathe a sigh of relief as well.

"That's what I want too," he says, carefully grabbing your hand and taking another look at the wound. "That looks really bad," he says, frowning. Wrecker comes rushing up and murmurs, "Now hurry up, or our Jedi will bleed to death!" Impatiently, he grabs you and lifts you off your feet to carry you to the Marauder. You make a small, startled noise. "Wrecker," Hunter says softly, admonishing. "What? The little Jedi got hurt!" Wrecker returns unperturbed and carries you to the Marauder. "It's just a cut on my hand," you say, waving it off. "It's bleeding a lot," Tech comments as Wrecker sets you down next to him and points at your stained tunic. Tech already has medical supplies ready, including a needle and thread, but first Echo cleans the wound. You grit your teeth, because the cleaning stings a lot. Echo says knowingly, "Don't worry, it'll be done in a minute"

Wrecker asks curiously, "Is the Jedi officially with us now?" Hunter sits down opposite you and watches as your wound is taken care of, he says, "I think so" "But I'm not really a Jedi anymore. There is no longer a Jedi order and I haven't been following the code for a while now, at least not to the letter," Hunter's eyes meet yours at the last words. Your heart beats faster as a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "We're not really regular clones either, we're not really soldiers anymore," Tech says lightly. Crosshair sticks a toothpick in his mouth and mutters, "Welcome to the defect squad, I have a feeling you'll fit in perfectly here"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

________

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

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@hunterssecretrecipe

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[kaminokatie]

Baby-Trapping || Anakin Skywalker

Synopsis - Anakin Skywalker babytraps you.

Warnings - NSFW.

Note - Based on my c.ai bot linked here.

Word Count - 3.1k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Being a renown author in the Galactic Republic was an honour in itself, but when a few Jedi turned up to your latest book signing on Coruscant, you were over the moon. To know that even peacekeepers like the Jedi had taken an interest in your books felt like a huge accomplishment in one sense. What you didn’t know, however, was that you had caught the attention of none other than Anakin Skywalker - his gorgeous blue eyes looked right through the crowd and at you as you signed the books of the fans waiting in front of him. Then he finally got to the front, your book clutched tightly in his cybernetic hand as he flashed you a smile that went straight to your heart. “Hey, I’m Anakin Skywalker,” he introduced himself.

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled back at him, trying to calm down your quick beating heart. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he whispered, handing the book to you. He watched as you signed the cover of the book delicately, your signature a work of art in his eyes. 

“Did you like the book?” You asked as your pen glided across the smoothened cover. 

Anakin nodded. “Very much so. I’d say it was my favourite one yet.” 

“That’s good to hear,” you giggled. “I am particularly proud of the story I managed to come up with, and in such a short space of time too.”

“Really?” Anakin asked, that movie-star-like smile never leaving his face. “You should tell me about it over dinner.”  

Your eyes widened, breath hitching in your throat at his words but you found yourself nodding regardless. “S-Sure.” 

“Great. I’ll pick you up at lets say, after the book signing at five?” Anakin asked. You nodded your head in agreement, a slight blush now rested on your cheeks as you handed the book back to him. Anakin excitedly took the now signed book and winked at you before he bowed and walked away into the crowd. To say that your heart was beating rapidly was an understatement: it felt as though it was about to beat right out of your chest. Despite this, you tried to keep yourself calm and focus on the rest of the fans that were waiting for their books to be signed. 

By the time the signing was over, you were socially exhausted. You were starting to regret agreeing to go to dinner with Anakin, but the second you saw him walk back into the bookstore to pick you up, you perked up. He had seemingly gotten ten times more handsome since you had last met him just a few hours ago. “I’m here to pick you up, m’lady,” he grinned, offering you his non-gloved hand. 

You nodded your head at him, smiling politely and took his outstretched hand. “Thank you,” you whispered, voice small and shy. 

Anakin quickly whisked you out of the stuffy bookstore and onto the speeder he had arrived in before hopping in the driver's seat himself. “Where to?” He asked, looking at you with those piercing blue eyes. 

“Actually, I’m quite new around here so I don't know what’s good,” you replied sheepishly.

“I guess I’ll have to take you to one of my favourite places. It’s nothing fancy, but the food is always delicious. Unless, you’d prefer fancy?” Anakin grinned.

You shook your head rapidly, not wanting to seem stuck-up to the Jedi besides you. “No! It’s fine.”  

“Great,” Anakin practically purred. “It’s a local diner. Like I said, nothing fancy, but great food.”

“Sounds good,” you smiled, looking at the flying speeders ahead of you. 

To say that Anakin was a good flyer was another understatement of the day. He got you to the diner fast, and yet, safely. It was a rather nice journey, even if he did keep his eyes on you for most of the ride. Anakin helped you off the speeder and walked hand-in-hand with you into the diner, taking a seat near the window. As you sat down opposite Anakin, you took in the brightly coloured furniture, walls, floor and ceiling before turning to admire the various amounts of decorations hanging around the diner. “What do you think?” Anakin asked, snapping you out of your trance. 

“It’s oddly soothing, dare I say almost homely,” you replied. Of course you were talking more about the familial atmosphere than the brightly coloured decor, but you think Anakin understood that as he nodded his head. 

“Ah, young Skywalker!” A voice boomed, forcing you to turn your head. 

“That’s the diner's owner, lovely guy,” Anakin explained quietly to you before waving at the owner who was already waddling his way over to your table. 

“And my Maker…” the owner trailed off as he reached your table, his eyes widening as he saw you. “Could it be that the Y/N L/N has stepped into my small diner?” You grinned immediately at the recognition and nodded your head. The owner held his hand out for you to shake, which you did happily. “It’s an honour to meet you, my dear. Absolutely a huge fan of your work!” His voice boomed. 

“I’m glad you are, Sir,” you smiled, shaking his hand. 

Anakin couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows at the owner’s hand lingering on yours slightly longer than needed. Anakin then cleared his throat, catching the owner's attention. “I’ll have the usual please,” he said before turning to you. “What would you like?” 

You pulled your hand away from the owner’s and smiled at Anakin. “I trust your instincts so I’ll have the same as you.” 

“Great choice! They shall be out for you soon,” the owner chimed before waddling back to the kitchen to get started on making yours and Anakin’s food. 

Anakin stared at you, taking in every detail of your feature as you stared out of the diner window, the light from the buildings only serving to enhance your beauty. “So,” Anakin said, causing your attention to be turned to him and only him. “You said you’d tell me more about your book.”

“I suppose I did,” you smiled, nodding your head. “What would you like to know?” 

Anakin thought for a moment before responding. “Well, you said that you came up with the story in such a short space of time… How did you manage to do that?” 

“Well,” you said giggling, “it actually was a dream of mine. I keep a diary of my dreams, you see and well… this particular one really stood out to me.” 

“A dream you say?” Anakin grinned. “You must have some rather vivid and unusual dreams then.” 

“You could say that.” Just as Anakin was about to ask you another question, your food and drinks were brought out of the kitchen by a droid. You were about to take your plate from the droid’s serving tray when Anakin held his hand out. Your plate lifted from the tray and hovered over to you, before being placed lightly in front of you. Your eyes lit up as you looked at Anakin, a wide smile on your lips. “That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s nothing,” Anakin replied, blushing slightly at your amazement. Anakin took his own food and drink before the droid turned away and hovered back to the kitchen. The Jedi couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of pride swelling in his chest. 

You immediately started digging into the food on your plate as you felt Anakin’s eyes stare at you. You looked up at him with a sheepish smile on your face and a mouthful of food before swallowing. “Sorry, I’m starving. Haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” Anakin looked at you with concern etched onto his handsome features. “Usually, I’d have eaten by now, but book signings can get really busy and leave me with not enough time for a break.” 

“I see,” Anakin responded. “Do you like doing the signings?” 

You took another bite of food and nodded your head enthusiastically. “Definitely! It’s always great to meet those who enjoy my books.” 

“I must say, you’re even more beautiful in person,” Anakin whispered, taking a small bite out of his own food. You blushed at his comment and shook your head, but Anakin was quick to shut down your insecurities. “Seriously. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, not used to these types of compliments. 

You and Anakin talked more about your books and your writing process as you ate. You had found yourself rambling about your next book to Anakin, explaining the overall plot and asking him about his opinions, to which he seemed extremely receptive. He encouraged you to start writing as soon as you could, and that he couldn’t wait to purchase it in store to find out more. When it was time for you to head home, desperate for an earlier night than usual due to another book signing the next day, Anakin offered to take you back. You gladly accepted his offer and gave him your address, jumped in the speeder and rode back to the apartment complex you were staying at for the time being. Anakin, like before, helped you out of the speeder and like a gentleman, walked you to the front door before turning you around. “I had a good time with you tonight Y/N,” he whispered, his voice silky and smooth. He had your back pressed against the door and his body was incredibly close to yours. Your breathing, erratic. 

Before you even realised what you were saying, the words came out of your mouth. “Would you like to come in?” 

“Very much so,” he purred against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned around, your back pressed firmly against his chest as you unlocked the door before pulling him in. 

Immediately, Anakin’s lips met yours in a hot kiss, his body pressing up against yours. A soft gasp left your lips as you felt his hardening length pressed against your thigh. You knew where this was going, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care right at that moment. You kissed Anakin back feverishly, hands making their way to his curly brown locks and tugging on them slightly forcing the Jedi to let out a soft moan. “Where’s your bedroom?” Anakin asked, impatience laced his voice. 

You pulled away from Anakin’s lips and pointed down the hallway. “Second door,” you replied breathlessly. 

Anakin nodded, his lips attaching to yours again instantly as he picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bedroom. Anakin opened the door using The Force, and closed it again before detaching his lips from yours and throwing you on to the large king-sized, silk ridden bed. He looked down at you with a hunger in his eyes that he hadn’t ever felt for anybody else before, all his principles of being a Jedi and following the Code went out of the window the moment he saw you. “Do you want this?” He asked softly, his voice a low growl. You didn’t trust yourself to use your words to answer so instead, you just nodded your head at him, staring up at the man hovering over you with desire. “Good girl.” Anakin’s praise sent a wave of heat straight to your core and you bucked your hips up slightly, your cunt clenching around nothing. Anakin grinned at your reaction and shoved the Jedi robes off of his body, allowing them to hit the ground with a silent thud. He didn’t hesitate, taking the rest of his clothes off and showing you his muscular, yet slender frame that had your mouth watering at the sight. His cock, slightly tanned and standing to attention was already leaking pre-cum and twitching at the thought of actually being inside of you. You took your own clothes off eagerly, pulling your trousers down and exposing your shamefully soaked panties. Anakin let out a groan at the sight, delighted to see the effect he was having you already. “Nice and wet for me already baby?” He cooed softly. 

You nodded your head, biting your bottom lip. You couldn’t even bring it in yourself to be ashamed at how wet you were just at the sight of his exposed body. Anakin stood at the edge of the bed jerking himself off to the sight of your naked form, his breaths coming out in laboured pants, eyebrows knitting together in pleasure before he pulled his hand away and climbed onto the bed. He stalked over to you, leaving a trail of wet kisses up your thighs before settling in between your legs, his tongue immediately licking a stripe up your slit. You gasped, hands once again flying to his brown locks to keep his head in place. Anakin couldn’t believe it. He was actually eating out THE Y/N L/N. His tongue dipped inside your tight heat as he slurped, sending shockwaves of pleasure up your body. Your legs dangled over his shoulders, clenching around his head as his tongue slipped out of your hole and made its way to your throbbing clit. “Anakin!” You cried out softly, silent pants leaving your lips as he continued his assault on your cunt. 

“Mhmm,” Anakin mumbled against your pussy. The hum sending another wave of pleasure through you. You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly, and it almost made you embarrassed. But the feeling of Anakin’s tongue on your clit had your mind devoid of everything other than the pleasure you were feeling. “You going to cum for me baby? Hmm?” Anakin asked against your cunt. 

“Maker, yes!” You cried out, your head resting against the plush pillows. He grinned in response, bucking his hips against the mattress in an attempt to soothe his aching erection. 

“Cum for me baby girl, you can do it,” he whispered, knowing his praise would teeter you over the edge - and it did. The mixture of his praise and pet name had you cumming shamelessly over his tongue and without missing a beat, Anakin slurped up every last drop of juices you had to offer. “Good girl,” he cooed, bringing his hand up to gently slap your throbbing clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation, but quickly moaned in response. He kissed up your stomach, trailing through the valley of your breasts before he hovered just above your face. As embarrassing as it was, you could smell your pussy on his breath and it only increased your already burning desire for him. You felt Anakin slick the raw head of his cock up your slit before he slowly pushed himself in, inch by delicious inch. He groaned loudly at the sensation of your walls clenching around him and threw his head back, eyes shut tight. It was by far the best feeling he had ever experienced. Your legs went to wrap around his waist, but Anakin had different ideas, popping your legs straight up his chest and over his head so his cock could hit deeper inside of you.

You couldn’t help the noise that ripped from your throat as he began to buck his hips against yours. The squeal that left you was obscene and yet, erotic to Anakin’s ears. He moved his hips faster, not bothering about the loud creaking noises of your bed hitting the wall that you shared with your neighbours. He wanted people to hear him fucking you. The galaxy’s most renown author being fucked stupid in her bedroom - the scandals it would bring if the press were hear to listen to your loud moans and the wet, squelching noises your cunt made as it fluttered around his cock. “Anakin!” You squealed, eyes rolling back into your head as his hips slammed against yours faster and harder. The Jedi was chasing a high he had never experienced before and it was becoming addictive. The feeling of your tight pussy around his cock was something Anakin wanted to experience day in and day out for the rest of his life. You felt the coil in your stomach tightening once more the deeper Anakin pushed his large cock into you.

“Kriff, I can feel you tightening around me baby,” Anakin groaned lowly, his hands coming to rest gently around your throat. “You're going to cum again, hmm?” You nodded your head as Anakin stared deeply into your eyes before he slammed his lips against yours. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth, enveloping your tongue with his own. He was close too, his cock twitching as his movements stuttered desperately against yours. “I’m cumming too,” Anakin moaned against your lips, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

“Anakin, pull out!” You cried out, panic lacing your voice as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

Anakin shook his head, his lips nipping at the skin on your throat. “No. Think about how precious our babies would be, baby. They’d have your beautiful eyes, and my nose and-” he whimpered. The thought alone made him cum so hard, spurting his creamy load deep inside your womb as his hips stuttered one last time. You let out a whine as you felt him spill inside of you, your eyes widening with disbelief: a man you had just met a few hours ago at your book signing had cum inside of you. When Anakin pulled out of you, he remained on top of your body, kissing your neck lovingly as he nuzzled against you. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.” Immediately, you felt anxiety swell in the pit of your stomach as Anakin rubbed your stomach. “Just think about it…” He whispered against your throat before rolling off of you and laying next to you. 

The next morning, your eyes fluttered open as memories of the night before played through your mind. Anakin’s arms were wrapped around your waist and he was snoring peacefully. You sat up slowly, trying your hardest not to wake the sleeping Jedi but he knew. He could sense you were awake. “Good morning,” he whispered sleepily, a dreamy expression on his face. 

“Morning,” you whispered back, rubbing your eyes. You looked down at Anakin, his brown curls messily splayed on your silk pillow as his blue eyes looked up at you. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked, smiling softly.

“Good,” you replied, nodding your head. “Yourself?”

“Better than ever,” he said as he sat up, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “I need to go, but I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Later?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he dressed himself. 

“Yeah, later,” he turned to you with a grin. “I’ll pick you up from your book signing again.”  It was only then as you looked at Anakin that you realised what you had gotten yourself into by accepting his initial date: some sort of relationship with a crazed fan, and not just any fan, a Jedi.

[phoenixyfriend]

Secret Son of a Disgraced King

Read on AO3

Anakin Skywalker does in fact have a biological father! Now if only someone could get the man to pick the up the damn comm so they could do a paternity test to confirm!

Initially brainstormed on tumblr here.

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

Shmi is twenty-seven years of age, in transit as chattel, on the day she meets Jango Fett. They do not share any duties, as Shmi has been deemed more useful as a face to sell for maid work or bar service than in the hold, processing spice. Not pretty enough for a brothel, maybe, but enough for service. They still want to get some use out of her, for time she is with them, and so she is set handle the injured until they see fit to sell her.

Jango is what they deem 'strong-willed' and 'poorly-behaved.' Words better suited to an eopie than a sapient being. He is punished more often than the other slaves, and sent back to work twice as soon. Shmi sees him over and again to bandage him with diluted, expired bacta, to stitch up broken skin and press ice to bruised eyes. She is no true nurse, but nobody expects her to be. Not the slaves, and not their masters.

"If you ever get out," Fett tells her, "You could probably get a degree in this. Be a medic. Your hands are steady enough for it."

"There is no getting out," Shmi says, "not for the likes of us."

She will change her tune eventually, but this, now, is a low point in her life. Not the lowest it'll ever be, no, but she is not yet climbing out. It will be years she stops digging.

"It'll be a damn long time before I give up my dreams of vengeance," Fett tells her. He says it with a mad grin that doesn't meet his eyes. "It's what keeps me warm at night."

The sleeping cells are freezing at night, in contrast to the hellish heat of the spice processing room.

"There are other ways to stay warm," Shmi says.

She thinks nothing of it at the time, but when she heads to bed, Fett grabs her wrist and raises a brow.

"Staying warm alright?" he asks.

She considers, then, "I'm looking to get some more sleep, I'll admit."

(Continue on AO3)

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[amarcia]

ive been reading through legends but ive found myself a little dissapointed with the last few books ive read are there any legends books or sieres you recomend for good jedi moments and characters?

[ireadwithmyears]

you gonna swoon on me, meshla?

Pairing: Kix/GN Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Tags/warnings: mostly fluff/humour, injections, mentioned fear of needles, fainting, awkward/embarrassing love confessions, first kiss

Summary: when you quite literally swoon into the arms of the medic you’ve had a crush on for months, you aren’t planning on confessing your feelings for him. When the truth embarrassingly slips out anyways, you’re surprised to find that those feelings maybe don’t go as unreciprocated as you had thought.

Note: look, I did it. I finally titled something without referencing a Taylor Swift song. Are you proud of me? I didn’t know I could do that. 

Please, don’t let it be him. 

This is the only thought that runs through your mind as you anxiously wait in a line of troopers, officers, and Jedi generals and commanders, all neatly filed into the medbay of the Negotiator to get updated vaccinations, a precaution, you were told by your CO, in preparation for a planet you were about to be deployed to, that was currently dealing with an outbreak of some disease or other.

If it’s him, you think, you’ll simply crumple to the floor in embarrassment. 

Your name is called, and at first, you don’t react, instinctively turning to find the owner of the voice, searching through a sea of very identical faces until your eyes lock on him.

“Over here,” Kix calls to you. “I’ll take you now.”

Great. 

Absolutely fanfuckingtastic. 

As your eyes are drawn to the prettiest face that you’ve ever seen in the GAR, instinctively, the butterflies in your stomach take flight, insistent as they flutter. 

This makes for a rather poor combination with your already frayed nerves, anxious about what you’re about to do. What he is going to do to you, you correct yourself, feeling your stomach lurch. It takes all of your willpower not to wilt on the spot.

Move, you silently order yourself. Move so that he doesn’t piece together that anything is wrong. 

Reluctantly, you do, feet awkwardly shuffling forward through the crowd as you try not to be sick. This is, quite possibly, the worst scenario. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. Being afraid of needles as a grown ass adult is embarrassing enough. But being afraid of needles and having the handsome, kind medic with the beautiful brown eyes and impeccable bedside manner who you, you have to admit it, have had a crush on for a long time being the one to administer your vaccination is just on a whole other level of mortification.

This is humiliating, you think to yourself, and not at all what you signed up for when you became an aid to one of the admirals who is stationed primarily on the bridge of the Negotiator. You work and interact with the clones often, and yet, it’s him whose set apart from the others for you, who’s gentle smiles and kind words, paired with that handsome face always sends your heart racing. So of course, of course, it had to be him who was about to see this embarrassing, completely irrational side of you. 

You try not to let any of this discomfort flicker across your face as he leads you into a curtained off cubicle, gesturing for you to sit. 

You hesitate and slowly, with the trepidation of a loth-cat wandering out into the rain, you lower, tentatively sitting on the edge of the seat.

*

“You’re shaking,” Kix murmurs, gently taking your wrist in his hand to feel your pulse. “And your heart rates a bit jumpy,” he adds after a moment.

His voice is soft, non-judgmental, slightly honeyed with a hint of what you think might be concern.

Still, you rush to answer, eyes widening in false surprise even though, his alluring proximity combined with your looming anxiety easily explains his observations.

“I is it?” You ask, voice pitching upward in a nervous squeak that makes you internally cringe.

His lips pull into a kind smile as he inclines his head, crease forming between his eyebrows as he looks at you with a flicker of curiosity.

“It’s not anything to be alarmed about. But it is usually a sign of anxiety or nerves, in this case,” he remarks, leaning forward and propping his elbows against his knees as he gazes at you. “Are you feeling nervous right now, cyar?” He queries, voice understanding and gentle.

In spite of the fact that the word is unfamiliar to your ears, something about it, and the tone of his voice, makes you blush.

Regardless of  that, you’re quickly shaking your head in denial, defensive.

“No,” you respond, forcing your voice to remain even. “I’m not nervous.” 

There’s a beat, a slight hesitation where he deliberates. Then, by some mercy, he nods, straightening and rising to his feet. 

“Alright, then,” he acquiesces, moving to retrieve something as your eyes warily track him. “If you could just roll up your sleeve, which ever arm you prefer, we’ll have you out of here quickly.”

You nod mutely, throat going dry as you do, trembling hand slowly pushing up the sleeve of your T-shirt. 

He moves around you, stepping up and beginning to wipe a disinfectant over the exposed skin of your arm, just below your shoulder. It’s cold, and you instinctively flinch, unable to hide the jolt as the unexpected sensation sends you spiralling into overdrive.

“Okay, okay, I lied,” you admit frantically, raising your hands to cover your face, cheeks burning. “I am nervous,” you confess, voice muffled against your hands.

“Hey, hey that’s okay,” his response is immediate, voice filled with warmth and reassurance. “You don’t have to hide, meshla, I understand.” 

To his credit, he does sound genuine, kind, not a hint of judgement or condescension in his voice.

Hesitating for a moment, you look up at him through your eyelashes, lips pulled downward into a frown. “I didn’t want you to know,” you mumble, cheeks still flushed. “It’s embarrassing, and I know I can handle it.”

He gives you a nod of encouragement. “I know you can handle it, too,” he responds immediately. “But I don’t find your apprehension embarrassing at all. These are unpleasant, and overall not a fun experience. Even if it is finished quickly, it is understandable to dread it.”

You find that you have nothing to say to his sound logic, and you’re still floundering to come up with a response when his fingers lightly brush against your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. It’s funny, because you’d expect, what with your nerves already running so high at this moment, that you wouldn’t have the energy to blush at the simple touch, the light, barely there brush of his gloved fingers against your bare skin.

You’d be wrong, especially when he appears to notice, and his eyes linger on your face, pausing for just a moment too long with something, warm and soft in them. 

“And no offense, but you’re a shit liar,” he teases, giving you a slight grin.

“Am not,” you defend, voice indignantly jumping an octave higher which makes him chuckle.

“Right,” he drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m absolutely convinced.”

He sits back, face becoming serious once more as he looks at you. “Is there anything I can do to help make this easier?” He asks, voice soft.

You shake your head, biting your lip uncertainly. “I I’m not sure,” you admit, looking down at your feet.

“That’s okay,” he says, looking thoughtful as he pauses for a moment before he sits forward. “I’d like to try something, and we can see if it is helpful, if you’re game for it?” He asks, raising one eyebrow as he looks at you.

You let out a slow breath, giving him a half shrug. “Honestly? At this point I’m game for anything.” 

He gives you a smile and nod, wheeling his chair up next to you. Almost absently, he reaches up a hand, carefully tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

In the back of your mind, you know that it’s probably just so that it’s not in the way of the injection site. But still, your heart flutters at the simple gesture, momentarily distracting you from your fear.

It doesn’t last. 

The minute he moves to the tray of tools beside him, your breath catches in your throat and your eyes jump to stare at him, alarmed.

He looks at you, brown eyes searching, and you’re struck by the deep level of compassion you find in them. 

“You might find this easier if you look away,” he says gently. “Nothing is going to happen without warning. I will tell you what I’m doing, and I won’t proceed until you tell me that you’re ready.”

You give him a slow nod, reluctantly pulling your eyes away and forcing yourself to look forward. Despite your pounding heart And your racing mind, you implicitly trust him, knowing that he’ll keep his word. Satisfied, he speaks again. 

Now, this might sound counterintuitive, but I’d like you to clench your fist as tightly as you can. Keep it nice and tense, and ignore everything that’s going on up here,” he says, fingers gently trailing over your upper arm. “I’m just going to disinfect this again, just to be safe. It’ll feel a bit cold,” he warns, and you hear the sound of a plastic wrapper being torn open as he prepares a new swab.

You give him a small jerk of your head, forcing your fingers to close into a fist and holding it tightly as he moves, quickly swiping over the area a few times.

“Good, now, I’m coming in with the injection. I want you to take a nice, deep breath in for me,” he encourages, and it takes all of your strength not to look at what he’s doing beside you.

You nod again, forcing yourself to pull air through your lungs in a long, controlled breath. “Keep that fist tight,” he reminds you quietly. “You tell me when.” 

You take one, two, three seconds to hold your breath, and force the muscles of your fist to contract tighter, and prepare yourself. Kix waits, his presence unobtrusive, patient and calming. Finally, you give him the go ahead.

“Do it,” you say simply, bracing yourself as you do.

It comes without delay, quick and immediate, and a sting that makes you wince. But, by the time your body is reacting to it, it’s already gone.

Your breath exits your lungs in a slow, relieved stream of air as Kix speaks, switching out the syringe for a cotton swab, holding it against the site for a moment. 

“Perfect. All done,” he praises, and you don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a smile on his face, matching the warm inflection of his voice. 

You feel him carefully apply a small Band-Aid to the site, smoothing it down with his fingers before he turns to you, grinning.

“You’re all set. Now, I’m just going to take you to the waiting area, and just wait there for five, ten minutes to make sure you’re good to go,” he continues, discarding the no longer needed supplies.

You not in understanding, and he moves to get the door for you as you rise to your feet when suddenly, something makes you pause as you move to step past him.

Huh, that’s weird.

Distantly, you register that your ears are ringing, and strangely, the world has gone out of focus around you, blurring around the edges as your head spins, suddenly dizzy.

Kix’s eyes are alert and observant, carefully watching as your movements become unsteady, taking note of how the colour has quickly drained from your face. He moves, easily intercepting your path by stepping in front of you, holding out an arm, stalling your movements with a hand on your shoulder. You don’t even have the energy to blush at the touch, and that’s when you should clue into the fact that something is wrong. But you don’t, because everything feels so out of focus and detached from reality. You remain blissfully unconcerned.

“Wo, easy. You gonna swoon on me, meshla?” He asks, carefully keeping his tone casual, as not to startle you further.

He sounds far away, disjointed, and your mind is hazy, scrambling in spite of the dozen possible retorts you have to his teasing. 

What you should say is no. 

What you should say is that you’re completely fine, thanks for asking.

What you should say is actually, now that you mention it I do feel a little bit funny. 

What ends up coming out of your mouth in a slurred, unsteady voice is “well, I’ve actually been swooning for you since the day we met, Kix...”

Then, possibly because of the injection, or more likely because of your far away, detached mortification at what you just said, your body decides that it’s time to piece out.

Without warning, you collapse, and before you have time to worry about how much it’s going to hurt when you hit the ground, you fall, directly into his arms, outstretched and waiting to catch you.

The last thing you see is wide, amber eyes filled with concern before your vision goes dark, and the ringing in your ears crescendos to an almost painful, fever inducing pitch before everything falls silent and still.

*

When you come to, the complete embarrassment and stupidity of what you had said before you fainted doesn’t hit you immediately. 

You’re lying on a bed, and he’s there, warm and steady, but giving no outward indication that you had just confessed your feelings for him before collapsing into his arms. So, your brain doesn’t immediately feel the need to sound the alarm and start panicking.

“You’re safe, meshla, everything‘s alright, just keep those eyes open for me and breathe. This happens all the time,” he says reassuringly, eyes only glancing away from you momentarily to study a readout as another medic tightens a blood pressure cuff around your arm.

“Wha what happened?” You ask, concerned but still dazed. At the seemingly loud sound of the cuff being undone, your head jerks to the side, flinching.

“Shh, nothing for you to worry about, cyar,” Kix soothes.

There’s that word again, you think distantly. It’s comforting, and did he just smooth his hand over your hair, or are you just hallucinating all of this?

“Your blood pressure dropped when you got up. It’s still a bit low, so I’m going to get you a juicebox. That’ll help bring it back up. You’ll feel better once you’ve got some sugar in you,” he says, voice calm and unfazed as he passes you the juice. “Just drink that up for me, and I’ll be back in a few minutes to check your blood pressure again and make sure you’re clear to go, alright?”

You can only nod slowly, allowing him to adjust your pillows and help you into a sitting position before he rushes off, the other medic trailing behind.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the Juicebox when your eyes comically widen, and you nearly choke on the juice as you suddenly remember.

You had confessed your feelings for your medic, not only that, but in the most embarrassing way possible, and then you fainted in his arms.

Fuck.

It all comes rushing back to you, and you have to set your juice down as it does, letting out a long, mortified breath as your head falls into your hands.

You need to leave. 

You need to leave right now. You need to get out of here and save you both the awkwardness of having to talk about your embarrassing blunder. The door isn’t that far, you could make it. You could just slip out, and you both could go on and never talk about it again. 

Now, if you were thinking clearly, you would know that trying to make a mad dash out of the medbay without being cleared to do so is impossible. It just is. Medics of the 501st are like hawks, having a bit of a reputation for troopers who try to bolt, and will swoop down on anyone who tries to sneak out before they even make it to the medbay’s double doors. 

Yet somehow, in your delusional state of mind, you actually believe that you can do the impossible. You are different and you will be the one to succeed where all others have failed.

You don’t. 

You manage to slip out of bed, only feeling slightly unsteady on your feet, and you make it five, ten steps before there’s warm hands settling on your shoulders from behind and a deliberate clearing of a throat as you’re turned to face Kix, jaw tight, and face stern, a look that you’re more than certain is well practiced, and very effective at instantly causing you to break out in a nervous sweat.

“What are you doing out of bed, little one?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I, uh, n nothing?” You squeak, knowing even before you speak that it’s not going to convince him in the slightest. 

“Hmph,” he huffs disapprovingly, gently steering you back to your bed and nudging you to sit down on the edge. “Like I said earlier, you’re a horrible liar.” 

He picks up the Juicebox, from where you had abandoned it on the nightstand, and frowns. “You didn’t even finish this,” he scolds, before setting it back down with a sigh. 

There is disappointment in his voice, and it instantly makes you swallow, looking down at the ground. You feel the need to say something, anything, so that he stops looking at you like you’ve kicked a tooka right in front of him. 

“I was trying to save you embarrassment,” you blurt out, not knowing how else to explain.

“Embarrassment,” he says, sounding genuinely baffled, which, in turn, makes you feel confused. He frowns, tilting his head to observe you for a moment before slowly giving it a bewildered shake. Carefully, he quietly goes to close the curtains around you both, offering you at least a little bit of privacy.

You’re still trying to figure out what in the galaxy you’re supposed to say to explain yourself to him when he turns back to face you, beating you to it.

“What you said, before you fainted, did, did you mean it?” He asks, straightforward and to  the point, but voice losing its usual sureness. 

When you fail to respond, he takes a step forward, eyes meeting yours squarely. There’s something there, something that glimmers within his warm irises that you dare to believe, for one moment, might just be hope, that your answer just, slips out, small and honest and simple.

“Yes,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.” 

It’s Kix’s turn to falter, breath audibly stuttering as his eyes widen briefly, before he takes another step towards you.

“A and what if,” he says, voice a low murmur. “What if I told you I felt the same way?” He asks, eyes intent as he gazes at you.

You blink, staring up at him for a moment before speaking, voice not as confident as you’d like. “I’d say I don’t believe you,” you admit, slightly sheepish as your eyes dart away. When they come back to meet his, though, there’s a sparkle, a slight challenge in them.

“I’d say, prove it.” 

Wordlessly, he nods, unable to hide the breath that audibly catches at your words, quickly closing the distance between you two and moving a hand to tilt up your chin, holding it gently as he stares down at you, expression almost reverent. Then his eyes fall to your expectant lips, and it’s your turn to tremble, watching as they seam to darken slightly. 

He leans forward, breath ghosting over your lips before his, warm and soft and so, so gentle, brush against yours.

It’s a chaste, quick thing, that leaves you wanting and is over far too soon. A displeased noise leaves your throat as he steps back, suddenly tentative and unsure. You surge to feet and quickly step into his space because force, now that he’s here, now that you know he wants you just as much as you want him, you need more, and you’re determined to get it.

Luckily for you, he understands, meeting you half way as your hands scramble for perch’s on his armour plating, trying to pull him towards you. He happily obliges, hand cupping your chin and tilting your head back as his lips meet yours again.

A low hum escapes him as his body presses against yours, lips pressing much more insistently this time as they meet with yours. It’s hot and feverish and already leaving you breathless when his hand drops from your chin, experimentally dipping down to run his fingers along your hip, before he urges you closer to him, holding your waist to pull you closer, eliciting a small, surprised gasp to escape your parted lips. You feel his lips tug into a self-satisfied smirk against you before he pulls back. 

Unwilling to let you go just yet, he lets his forehead rest against yours, unable to pull his eyes away from your still parted, slightly kiss swollen lips. Maker, he thinks to himself silently. That might just be the most beautiful site he’s ever laid his eyes upon. Paired only with what he finds when his eyes trail lower, your chest, rising and falling heavily as your heartbeat doubtlessly flutters rapidly at the effect he has on you

“Do you believe me now, meshla?” He asks lowly, unable to resist grazing his thumb along your lips, causing you to shutter.

“Yes,” you manage to say breathlessly. “I I believe you.”

“Mm, good,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your temple before pulling away, with obvious reluctance.

“You’ll have more of those, then,” he promises, turning to leave before looking back at you with a wicked grin on his face.

“But you have to finish your Juicebox first,” he reminds you with a teasing glare before exiting, letting the curtain drop behind him, leaving you alone with your still racing, scattered thoughts and your wildly fluttering heart, and, of course, a half empty juice box that is now destined to be finished in record time. I

[tragicsiblings]

[stardust-kenobi]

moonlight & heartbeats

Hunter x Fem!Reader

Summary: A year after being rescued by Hunter from near-death on Tantiss, your peaceful life on Pabu is plagued with rampant nightmares. Hunter, now your close friend, senses your distress one night and comes to check on you.

Word count: ~5.5k

Warnings/tags: SMUT (piv sex, fingering, oral, dirty talk), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentioned violence, friends to lovers trope, Hunter cheesily senses reader’s heartbeat, the usual “use of his abilities” smut tropes, sorry not sorry<3

A/N - this has maybe more backstory than necessary but I decided my porn would have SOME plot this time. Enjoy <3

Read on AO3

Partially requested by @yunggoblin. Hunter uses his hearing more than his scent here but still goes along with your prompt :)

The rain poured relentlessly from the darkened sky. Your clothes now weighed heavy upon your beaten figure. The metal beneath your knees felt more unforgiving by the second. The trooper behind you, a clone trooper, held you by your shoulder, keeping you firmly in place.

Your trembling body barely had the strength to sit upright as you painfully craned your neck upward to the steel blaster barrel now level with your forehead. Just moments before, you were sheltering from the attack on the base inside Hemlock’s ship that you were repairing. A mechanic. You were just a mechanic. They’d accused you of treason, and there was no right to a fair trial if they’d thought you betrayed your mighty employer.

"The Empire thanks you for your service" The well-dressed Imperial officer spoke blankly as his finger hovered over the trigger. You’d never even seen him before, and somehow he held the right to take your life.

Your heart sat uncomfortably in your throat as your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the final breath you'd ever take.

Just as the blaster fired, your vision went hazy, and your eyes flashed open.

You found yourself sitting upright in your bed, panting frantically as a bead of sweat dripped down your temple. You grasped at your chest like it would help you breathe better, but you knew it was useless. It was only the third time this week you'd had the same nightmare, or at least, some variation of it. Usually in your nightmare, you were in the rain, as it truly happened. Other times you found yourself elsewhere on Tantiss base. Regardless, the dream always ended with a blaster at your head, reliving what you thought was going to be your final moments.

That is, if you had not been rescued by Clone Force 99. Had it not been for Hunter stealthily jumping into action. He didn't know you, not at the time. He saw a woman seconds away from execution and didn't think twice. You wonder, though, why he saved a woman in imperial dressings. What about you made him see you differently among every other imperial he and his squad killed without hesitation that day on Tantiss?

You were a mechanic for the Empire, and barely one at that. You were in training at the time of your near-execution. Somehow, your skills working on speeders on your outer-rim home world caught the attention of an Imperial Admiral during their invasion of your planet. You didn't have much choice, but you tried to make the best of it.

A few weeks into your job, you were accused of tampering with the safety of Admiral Tarkin's ship. It wasn't true, but your word meant nothing once you were accused. Truthfully, you never signed up for what the Empire had planned for you anyway.

Almost a year had passed since that day, but it never seemed to get any easier. The warm and happily endless days in your new home on Pabu were an oasis compared to your days serving the Empire. Unfortunately, though, even in a paradise of unbothered territory, the Empire still held you in its grasp with these unrelenting nightmares.

Your head rested heavily in your palms as you leaned over the side of the bed. Your roommate was thankfully gone for the night, so you were confident that no one heard your panting and muffled pleas for mercy in your sleep.

The beating of your heart began to pump the breaks ever so slowly. Looking around your home, you felt comfort in knowing you were safe. It always took you a few moments to let it sink in:

It wasn’t real.

The Empire cannot hurt you.

You are safe.

Your attempted solitude was abruptly halted by a sudden knock at the door. You rubbed your face to gather your composure before walking to the door and cracking it open.

Hunter’s face, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight, came into view. Your heart skipped a beat. His presence was always welcomed, but no matter how close you were to Hunter, he always gave the gentlest butterflies.

“Hunter, wh-” You began, your voice rough from sleep.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” He spoke gently, his eyes heavy with worry. He cared so deeply for you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer that question verbally. Pulling the door open, you gestured for him to come inside.

He entered, hesitantly. His eyes not so subtly traveled the length of your body, barely covered by the silk nightgown you wore. His jaw clenched as he made himself look away.

“Sorry, I’ll cover up” You said frantically, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Scrambling to find a tunic, he politely interrupted you.

“No, please” He begged. There was a hint of desire in his tone that you chose to dismiss, “I mean, it’s your home. Don’t worry about me”. His eyes still wandered. Hunter couldn’t peel his eyes away from your exposed skin. At least not completely before finally finding your gaze and holding it.

Setting down the tunic, you crossed your arms, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve…been better. Just a…bad dream is all” You struggled with your words, answering his initial question.

“I, um, sensed that you were…distressed” He started, nervously, “Sorry, It’s not by choice. But I couldn’t ignore it”.

It was no surprise that he could tell. The villa you were housed in was side by side with Hunter and Crosshair’s villa, with Hunter’s bunk being on just the other side of the thin walls of your own room. It wasn’t a lot of space, but it was graciously gifted to you by the Pabu government, and you were grateful.

But although it wasn’t surprising, you were startled by the idea that he could sense your nerves and heartbeat through the wall.

What else could he sense? What could he hear?

“What were you doing awake? It’s the middle of the night” You countered, shaking your head subtly, wearing a soft smile in admiration of his concern and derailing from the topic only slightly.

He sighed and sat himself on your bunk, “Was having some bad dreams myself” he confessed, his elbows resting on his thighs. You followed suit, sitting on your bunk next to him.

You nodded and let the silence between you fill the small space for a moment. It wasn't awkward. It never was with him.

“It’s been a year. I just…I can’t shake how real it feels. Every single time I have this dream -- it’s like I’m right back on Tantiss, staring up through the barrel of a blaster. But…in my dream— my nightmare—you never come to save me” You breathe out, almost choking on the last part.

Hunter’s brows furrow with concern and pain. He thought it over for a few seconds, reliving that moment when he saved your life, shooting the officer dead where he stood as well as the troopers surrounding you. His face twisted in sorrow once more before he spoke again.

“I see Tech” He began, his voice broken, “Every time I close my eyes to sleep. Over and over again, I see him die”

“Oh, Hunter” your voice cracks with his name falling off your lips. Your heart broke for him, for the others. You never had the pleasure of knowing Tech, but from the endless stories the others in the squad had to share, you knew he was extraordinary.

Hunter's eyes remained on the ground for a moment before looking over to meet your gaze. He reached out and rested his hand upon your knee. You were ashamed to admit that the gentlest of his touch was electrifying to you.

“I know what it’s like” He consoled you, “it’s terrible”.

You nodded and stared into him, communicating more in your expression than what your words could provide.

“That trauma — it’s a part of me now”

“It is. But it does not define you” Hunter countered, “That’s what I tell Omega. Shes a tough kid but…she’s haunted by the Empire, too”

You thought of her and smiled. Over the past year, you'd grown close to all of them and were so happy to have them in your life.

Hunter always tended to you back when you were trying to adjust to life on the island. He used check on you several times a day, just to see if you were okay. He still does occasionally, but he’s given you more space as time has passed. He was a good and caring friend.

A Friend.

You chuckled to yourself at the thought of that word. It wasn’t even a week after you met him that you’d fallen head over heels for him. He blissfully plagued your every waking thought. Often you’d worry that he noticed your fixation on him, and were weary of his possible rejection. Other times, you’d hoped he noticed and would do something about it.

There were lingering glances, brushes against one another in a hallway, kind and flattering words exchanged…but you’d both been too afraid to act on it. You accepted that it may never be anything more than that, but it wasn’t without disappointment. Everyone around you, the other guys specifically, all noticed the tension between you two, but it never affected your friendship.

“Can I ask you a question?” You broke the silence, seemingly curious in your tone.

“Anything” Hunter quickly responded.

“Is this the first time you’ve sensed that I was… distressed in the middle of the night?”

Slowly, he sat up straight, “Yes���and no” He answered, hesitantly. You swallowed hard in anticipation of what you already assumed.

You tilted your head at him inquisitively.

“It's your heart rate. But I uh...I don’t think it’s always nightmares" He trailed off, cautious of what he was insinuating. Your heart sunk to your belly. Surely he didn't mean that he could sense when you pleasured yourself?

"What do you mean, Hunter?” You pried, hoping to get him to bring it up first.

“I shouldn't have said anything. I was just worried about you and wanted to check in" He hurried through his explanation, standing to his feet and walking toward the door to look out your window.

Your cheeks burned red with both excitement and embarrassment.

"Sometimes it's the best way to get to sleep" You indirectly admitted, shrugging your shoulders and letting a playful smile sneak upon your face, “Don’t you do it, too?” You casually suggested.

His eyes snapped back to where you sat on your bed.

Touching yourself was the best way to relax. Truthfully, you were starving for Hunter’s touch instead, and you had been yearning for him all this time. It was always him that you thought of when your curious fingers traveled in between your legs.

Hunter swallowed hard, feeling the delicate tension in the air.

“Well, of course I do, I-“ he stumbled over his words.

“Hunter, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it” You reassured him, cutting him off before he felt any more flustered.

You approached him at the window, feeling so dangerously close as you placed your hand on his arm.

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay” You offered a gentle and reassuring smile.

“I want to protect you, cyar’ika. You mean a lot to me and I…sometimes I don’t know how to help”

Hearing endearing terms in Mando’a always melted your heart.

“Just having you around is enough protection for me”

“I’m on the other side of the wall if you ever need me. You know that”

“I know” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to break your attention away from his face. The tattooed side, something you’d always adored, was lit once again by the brightened moon. Stars, he was so beautiful.

It was a mutual exchange of a longing expression between you two. Hunter’s eyes searched your gaze for any hesitation as you both leaned into each other. Your body pressed firm against him as your hands rested on the back of his neck. In the quiet of your room, it was you who could hear your own heartbeat now.

His lips landed blissfully upon yours, sending a radiating current through your body. You sucked in a sharp breath, overcome with the feeling of this sudden intimate contact. You kissed him back delicately, letting your mouth become barely familiar with his after so much longing for this exact feeling. You pulled away only slightly, seeing if he had any urge to stop. You looked up at him, searching for any sense of regret but found none. Hunter’s eyes were hungry for you...so much more of you.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice low and desperate.

You ached for him. Maker…you had ached for him for so terribly long. His lips on any part of your body were near close enough to send you into a frenzy. As your lips returned to his, Hunter’s arms found themselves wrapped around your barely clothed waist, pulling you closer to him, and deepening the kiss.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt ready to remove it, eager to continue this further. To your puzzling surprise, he stopped you.

“Oh, I-“ You began, flustered and confused.

“Mesh’la” he groaned.

“I’m sorry”

“No, don’t be. I just…I can’t” He strained through his words, shutting his eyes for a moment, finding it difficult to reject you but forcing himself to do so.

As you stood there confused, he looked at you with a wordless apology on his face.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I'm right here if you need me” He concluded, gently planting a kiss on your forehead before seeing himself out.

Emptiness consumed you as you stood alone in your villa. Had you done something wrong? Surely not, it was clear he wanted you too, but something stopped him.

With such worry on your mind, you laid awake for a while before your fatigue finally took you over, sending you into a deep sleep.

————————————

“Have a nice day!” You called out to your last customer of the day. You loved your job working in the marketplace in the city square. It was a peaceful and rewarding existence.

Throughout the day, memories of the night before played like a broken holoscan in your mind. You could still feel his lips against yours, devouring you. It was hard not to smile as you reminisced about the feeling, but your smile would quickly fade as you remembered how it ended.

The sun casted an amber glow over the sea, letting you know the day was near over. The entire day had passed without seeing Hunter, which made you anxious. You wanted to see him. To talk to him. To apologize for trying to go too far.

As you processed these thoughts, you felt a presence approach your booth.

Hunter.

“Oh, hi!” You said surprised.

“Hi” He began, his smile warm, “can we talk?”

“Sure. I’m just closing up for the day”, You grinned back to him.

“I’ll be at our spot by the cove” He said, pointing toward the side of the island where your secret spot was. Only you, the guys, and Omega really knew about it.

You nodded before hurrying to finish closing your shop. Never had you packed that quickly before.

You arrived on the shore, in the hidden cove on the beach to find Hunter sitting alone on the boulder.

“Hey stranger” You said, approaching him.

“Hey, you” He smiled. Maybe with anyone else, this would be awkward. But with Hunter, somehow it wasn’t.

“Everything okay?” You questioned.

“I wanted to apologize about last night” He started, not making eye contact at first, but finding your eyes shortly after.

“It’s okay, Hunter, really. I understand” You responded, not entirely sure what you were understanding. Truthfully, you still weren’t sure why he stopped you last night.

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart”

You sat next to him on the boulder, leaving a bit of space between you two, contrary to how close you’d found yourself the night before.

“I had to stop myself” He continued.

“Why?”

“I care about you” He sighed.

“I know you do, Hunter. I don’t see why that made you want to stop what we had started” You countered, growing flustered, shifting your hips slightly.

“Because no matter how hard it is for me to resist you, I cannot take advantage of you like that”

“Wha— you’re not taking advantage of me, Hunter” You subtly scoffed in disbelief.

“I want you. Make no mistake about that” He said confidently yet softly, sending a tingling feeling through your veins.

“I want you too. I think about you…a lot” You began, letting your tone lead his mind toward the deeper meaning of your words.

Hunter looked over to you and raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“I don’t want to mess up what we have” He admitted, disappointingly, “you mean too much to me”

You wanted to fight it. You wanted him. But he made a fair point. Was it worth running the risk of ruining your friendship?

You nodded, offering no further comment on the situation. It made your heart ache terribly, but you couldn’t risk losing him due to your mutual desires.

“I’m lucky to have you, Hunter” You said, scooting closer to him before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too” He concurred.

The sunset on Pabu had never felt so bittersweet. As its warmth and glow made a gradual exit, you felt any chance of something more with Hunter disappearing with it. You sat and talked with him for another hour, chatting about the weather and how his job on the island was going, and you were just grateful for his presence, even if you’d never feel his lips upon yours again.

Returning home some time later, you noticed your roommate had left you a transmission.

“Sorry, still off-world, be back tomorrow!”

You felt relieved. Having privacy was rare but welcomed and appreciated.

The steaming shower in your refresher washed the day away from your body. You didn’t bother to put on your clothes, as you preferred to sleep naked anyway. As you sunk into your bed, you feared this would be another night of endless tossing and turning.

To make matters worse, you couldn’t stop feeling Hunter’s lips on yours. Over and over again, you kept feeling the tingling sensation that came over you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You were already wet just thinking about it, but as you rubbed your legs tightly together, you provided a friction that lit a fire in your lower belly.

He’d know if I masturbated, you thought. He’d sense it.

“Fuck it” You whispered to yourself.

Your fingertips found their place where they always did, right atop your sensitive bud. Rhythmically, you rubbed delicate circles around your clit, just beginning to tend to your aching needs. You whimpered softly. So softly that even you barely heard it.

What you were doing was going to drive him crazy. You knew that. The walls were thin, and he’d already told you that he’d sensed something in your heartbeat other than your nightmares before. But you’d be dammed if you’ll be left unsatisfied after the tease you’d felt last night.

You rocked your hips upwards into your own touch, biting your lip to suppress noises any louder than a heavy breath, especially with what you knew now. Visions of Hunter came to you as you fantasized. You pictured his fingers touching you like this, his body on top of yours.

Slowly, you felt your climax creeping toward you, inching closer like a looming threat. As you covered your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your orgasm was suddenly ripped away from you at the sound of a knock on your door.

You froze.

“Y/N” Hunter’s voice rang quietly from the other side.

Quickly, you pulled the covers to shield your naked body.

“Come in” you boldly called out. Sure, your door definitely should have been locked, but, you never worried for your safety here.

Hunter opened the door with caution. His eyes met yours immediately. As he closed it behind him, he leaned against the door as he took in the sight of you.

“Not a nightmare this time, was it?” He slyly suggested.

“No” you breathed, your heart now certainly beating in your throat.

He walked to your bed, slowly, “Tell me, mesh’la, all those times you’ve pleasured yourself, did you think I couldn’t hear those pretty little noises you make when you come?”

You stared at him, eyes heavy with intense lust and hint of blissful shame. There was a primal desire in his expression and demeanor, something you’d not seen but only a hint of last night, but it was undeniable tonight.

“Every time you touch yourself, I know” He whispered, “And you know what else? Every time you touch yourself, I can’t help but touch myself, too” He admitted, hovering above your bed, looking down to your delicately covered body. You melted at the image of him masturbating and getting off on the idea of you pleasuring yourself too.

“Hunter” you breathed.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want” He begged you. Hunter needed you to give him the green light he desperately needed.

“Please, fuck me” You begged shamelessly, “I can’t take it anymore. I need you”

Within the same second that the words left your lips, he was in bed above you, your lips tangled within his. He kissed you passionately, his tongue slipping into yours, exploring you further. You moaned at the satisfaction of his raw desire, picking right back up from where you left off. One hand held him up while the other ran through your hair. As you stayed covered beneath him, you reached up to grab his face and pull him into you and the kiss deepened between you.

The presence of his body above you pulled the blanket down, revealing your bare breasts. Hunter pulled away from your lips to look down at the sight. He growled lowly in approval and pent up urge to see you like this.

“Cyare” he whimpered, releasing his hand from your face down to cup your breast. He then redirected his attention to your stiffened nipples, taking one into his mouth, causing a gentle cry to fall from your lips.

With his mouth still upon your breast, he pulled the blanket completely off your body, tossing it to the floor, exposing your skin to the chilled air.

Maker, he was eager…so incredibly eager to see you fully bare beneath him. Every inch of your skin on display. Something he’d only dreamed of. Something that fueled every fantasy he had while he stroked his cock mere inches from you on the other side of the wall. And here you were, right beneath him, laid out pretty, just for him.

“You are so beautiful, sweetheart” He praised you, leaning back to fully take in the view. Swiftly, he removed his shirt, revealing the chiseled, beautifully scarred body beneath it. You stared in awe at his physique, your heart skipping a beat.

"Spread your legs for me, baby", He instructed. You obeyed, opening your legs to provide him better access to where you desperately ached for him the most. The moonlight gleaming through your window was enough to offer you both the light you needed. As Hunter caught sight of your pussy, already slick with desire for him, his face turned in pure adoration.

"Touch me, please, Hunter" You begged, feeling as though you could do nothing but beg him in this state of arousal. You were his. All his.

FIngertips trailed softly up your thigh before reaching the wetness between your legs. Hunter whimpered as he felt you.

"Oh sweetheart, is this all for me?" He asked, beginning to rub your clit gently while he whispered into your ear. Chills erupted down your body.

"It's for you. It's always for you" You responded breathlessly, letting your words flow in between your cries of pleasure. Hunter applied more pressure before inserting two fingers inside of you. While he does this, he watches you, enamored with the way your face twists in pleasure, all from his hands. Not yours this time — his.

With a curl of his fingers and a steady pace, Hunter fucks you with his fingers. His thumb remains at your clit, stimulating you beyond what you're used to. No one had paid this much attention to your body before.

His lips returned to yours, stifling a moan that escaped you as you felt your orgasm quickly approaching.

"I'm so c-close" You choked on your words muttered against his supple lips. The bundled coil in your lower abdomen threatened to burst at any second.

"I can feel you tightening around me. Come on my fingers, mesh'la" He encouraged you.

Hearing Hunter talk to you like this, after so long of being just friends, was exhilarating. His words alone were enough to push you over the edge, but the way he worked his hands to pleasure you was so good. Too good.

Your climax unraveled, washing over you gracefully, starting at your core and radiating like a fire throughout your entire body. Profanities flew from your lips as you instinctively rolled your hips against his palm.

"That's it, princess, right there" He coaxed you gently, unrelenting in the curling of his fingers, fucking you steadily through your orgasm, "good girl".

As you came down from the pure euphoria with stars dancing in your eyes, Hunter was careful to pull his fingers out of you slowly. Holding your gaze, he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you and savoring it like a last meal.

You leaned up, propping yourself on your elbows. Hunter stood, quickly pulling the hem of his pants down before removing them completely. You audibly gasped at his size when his cock came into view. Hunter was smirking as your eyes travelled back up to his gaze.

As he stood beside your bed, you got on your hands and knees and put your mouth level with his length. Hunter melted when your tongue licked up the side of his cock. His eyes fell closed when you took him into your mouth completely, or at least, as much as you could. You started to suck him off, using your tongue to guide your motions.

You peered up at him, watching his face twist in ecstasy as you bobbed your head back and forth. With a swirling of your tongue on his tip, you felt his hips twitch subtly.

“Fuck, Y/N. Just like that. Suck my cock” He growled through his pleasure, using a tone you’d usually only heard when he gave orders. This was an order you’d follow any day without question, “That’s my girl”, he praised through his clenched jaw.

His hand rested on your head, gently guiding you in your motions. The sound of his soft little whimpers that quickly turned into deeper groans made your cunt ache for him even more. You clenched your walls around nothing, pitifully empty and needing to be filled. As you moved your hand to your clit to relieve the ache, he reached down your back and plunged two fingers into your pussy from behind. You cried out, sending vibrations over his cock as you tried to still focus on his pleasure.

He pumped his fingers at a faster pace than before, sending you into a overstimulated frenzy and you couldn’t take it anymore. You pulled your mouth from him, desperately catching your breath and crying out his name.

“Fuck, Hunter, don’t stop” You begged him, but instead he disobeyed your request, removing his fingers completely.

Without struggle or hesitation, Hunter lifted you and placed you on your back on the bed. He positioned himself in between your trembling legs. He kissed you passionately once more while lining his cock at your entrance.

The whole world fell silent for you as your bodies seemingly fused together. You’d dreamed of this moment, this intimacy with Hunter, for so long. To have him inside of you was the most erotic experience you’d ever had. He bottomed out slowly, both of your mouths agape, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the connection you felt in that moment.

There was only a slight tinge of discomfort as he filled you completely. You winced only a little, before it was replaced by pure pleasure.

“Mesh’la” he moaned deeply, “You..ugh…you take me so well” he praised you through his expressions of pleasure.

“Feels so good, Hunter” you whine, staring deep into eyes, seducing him further.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to feel you like this?” He whispered against your ear before moving his lips down to your neck, kissing softly at your skin while he thrust deeper and faster.

You choked on your moans as his change in pace overwhelmed you. The room was filled with your whimpers, along with the irresistible sound of Hunter’s rough and deep moans.

“Such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this” Hunter’s praises lit a fire within you, and he could tell, encouraging him more.

You lifted your knees, pressing them against his chest, allowing him to slide inside of you at an even better angle. You cried out, overstimulated and overfilled in the most amazing way. The thin walls were no match for how good you made each other feel, but you cared very little about who heard you.

The year long pent up tension between you two was unraveling beautifully as he fucked you like he was making up for all that lost time.

With one hard thrust, he stopped, holding his cock fully sheathed in your cunt, “Gonna come on my cock, princess? Make those pretty little sounds for me?” He teased, grinding his hips hard against your thighs. Held inside you like this, he brushed against your most sensitive spot, driving you crazy.

You were drunk off him, drunk off his words, drunk off his body. You could barely form a response, but offered him a nod as you felt your next release building quickly inside of you. Maybe he just loved to tease you endlessly, because he then pulled out of you, making you whine pitifully at the sudden loss of his cock and your orgasm.

He was firm yet gentle with your body as he flipped you over flat on your stomach. Similar to how he reacted to your breasts, he growled at the sight of your ass, grabbing a handful to admire as he ran his other hand down your back.

He leaned down, his cock resting on your ass, and he moved your hair from your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss as he sunk himself into your pussy from behind. You moaned against his lips, so satisfied with being filled again.

He continued his pace from before, fucking you with raw desire to claim you. Hips slapped firm against the skin of your ass as Hunter grabbed your waist for even better leverage.

“Hunter!”, You cried out, “right there…right there…I’m gonna come”

Never would he dare to stop now. The sounds he emitted grew louder and more inconsistent, and you could tell he was close too.

The fire that burned inside you erupted into the a burst of absolute ecstasy. It took over every fiber of your being as your vision went hazy. A slew of profanities flew from your lips while your body convulsed, your cunt pulsing around his cock as you came harder than you ever had felt before.

“Yessss, good fucking girl, come for me just like that” He cursed, grinding and pounded hard to chase his own release as well. You tightened your walls for him, pushing him closer, even though you never wanted this to end.

You were breathless beneath him, still taking his cock like you were made for it.

“Come inside me, Hunter. Please” You pleaded. It seems your words sent him over his limit, because as the words left your mouth, his hips faltered and his breath grew shaky. Hunter filled you, coming deep inside you, marking you like he wished he’d done a long time ago.

Together you caught your breath slowly. Hunter was careful to remove himself gently, knowing that you’d be sensitive, as was he. You winced as the last inch of him left you. Exhaustion overtook your body as you lay there, floating on a high like no other.

Hunter laid down next you, your bodies pressed closely together on the small bed. You turned to your side, looking up at him in pure adoration.

“Y/N…” Hunter broke the silence that was only filled with panting as you both tried to catch your breath, “you are…so perfect”

“So are you” You smiled at him.

“I’m never letting you go. That’s a promise” He assured you. The words brought you comfort, and you truly believed him.

It wasn’t but shortly after that you both drifted into a deep sleep, holding each other close while your minds rested. The sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted, as neither of you had nightmares that night.

——

A/N: Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!❤️

Thank you for reading 😊

[tanobatcher]

moonlight

wolffe x jedi fem reader

summary: you’re a jedi with a budding attraction toward commander wolffe of the 104th battalion. even though both of you know that crossing any professional boundaries is simply off-limits, tensions arise when you find him with an injury after a long mission in the outer rim.

warnings: not a lot just wolffe’s back muscles.

a/n: tbh i don’t really like this and i wrote it instead of updating my fics on ao3 omg lock me up please. but i’ve been meaning to post a wolffe one shot for a while now so...yes. thanks.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Space is terribly, inevitably cold. The soft layers of your robes do little to remedy any warmth along the goosebumps that prickle your skin, leaving your body slightly trembling no matter how closely you stand beside the heating outlet. This current state of being is not obvious to the naked eye, but you feel every excruciating second that passes as your fleet drives deeper into hyperspace. On route to Coruscant, you can only hope that the hour disappears faster than expected. The sooner you get off this desolate venator, the less likely you are to lose your frozen fingers. Still, even with how stiff and tingly your exposed skin feels, you’re grateful that you aren’t out there. Realizing this is as safe and sound as you’re going to get, you tuck your hands into your robes and venture through the halls in hopes of finding something to remedy the frigid temperature.

Everything falls to a calm silence as soon as you leave the bridge where most of the chatter and energy can be found aboard this massive ship. The corridors are quiet, only echoing your footsteps until you reach a storage closet a few doors down from the infirmary. You can hear some faint conversations coming from there, muffled through walls and permeating grief. After all, more death than life can be felt after what happened earlier today. There is nothing new about loss, which is merely categorized as casualties in those boring mission reports, but there is also nothing acceptable about it either. Trying to relax your mind with your master’s emphasized teachings, you release an absentminded exhale that loosens your chest before stepping into the closet. Maybe some heating pads or gloves will do…if you can find any.

You lose track of time in the following minutes before the door suddenly slides open behind you with a brisk whooshing sound that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. It isn’t the unexpected intrusion that provokes this reaction, though. It’s the person standing in the corridor, whose presence you recognize before you turn around to look at him. You sense his terse, rigid iciness that somehow warms your skin and accelerates your heartbeat. But when you glance over your shoulder, all that you reveal is a friendly smile you don’t expect him to reciprocate.

“Hey,” you speak first, “Are you looking for something?”

Wolffe’s body is unmoving at this question, not allowing him to take any step into the closet. But he also hasn’t walked away yet, which indicates his current consideration of what to do next. If there’s anything you know about him from fighting this war together, it’s that he’s a deep thinker. The only times he really opens his mouth to say something is when he’s dishing out an order or an insult. And yet, you’ve grown to trust him. Admire him, even. This is certainly not a bridge to cross any further, though. The Council would be terribly disappointed in your inability to control your feelings before they become attachments. Besides, you know that Wolffe is the last soldier you’d expect to break protocol. The loyalty of following orders is weaved into his blood so intricately that you don’t even think about attempting to unravel these threads. It’s hardly your place to do so.

“I’ll come back later,” he answers sternly despite the exhaustion you hear in his tone.

Turning your body to face him fully, you aren’t surprised to see that his eyebrows are drawn together in that instinctive scowl not necessarily aimed toward you. Such an expression is more natural than intentional—at least, for him. He meets your eyes for a brief second before casting them downward, leading you to wonder why he seems so uncomfortably stricken. You sense this, just as you sense the pain he is currently trying to mask under his stoic philosophy. What’s he doing here, instead of checking into the med bay? You wonder this while remembering the tumble he took—for you, technically—just a few hours ago during your mission. The memory of falling from that mountainous peak crosses your mind, immediately followed by the moment when Wolffe cradled your body with his on the way down so that his landing impact was much more painful than yours. You meant to thank him for this sometime after, but things got in the way as they do in war. Now that you’re in a position to bring it up, though, you’re not sure how.

“No, that’s okay,” you tell him instead, “I was just about to leave.”

“Did you not find what you were looking for?” He questions, flicking his gaze at your empty hands you rub over each other in an effort to warm them.

“No. Guess we ran out of warmers—we should really ration them better.”

“You’re the only one who uses them.”

You wrinkle your nose at his factual statement, not wanting to concede but also not finding anything to say in rebuttal. So, you ask, “Did you need something?”

He gestures his chin at the crate beside your body. “Are there any medpatches in there?”

“I didn’t see any in this one…” you look down for a moment before reaching toward another crate while asking, “You might have better luck at the infirmary, to be honest. It’s pretty empty in here.”

“The infirmary’s busy,” is all he responds with a slight impatience to his tone as he takes a few steps further into the closet.

You’re suddenly hyperaware of his proximity, moving toward the side a bit to make room. It’s not a large space, cluttered with shelves and boxes somehow devoid of its usual contents. But you have been on the road for a while now, which could explain the reason for this fleet’s depleting resources. Thankfully, Coruscant is only a couple of hours away.

“Sorry,” you apologize when your backsides brush against each other. The collision of your soft robes against his hard armor is hardly noticeable, but you still find yourself burning in embarrassment for a reason you can only rule off as stupidity. Reminding yourself that this is Wolffe, and that you’ve been in much more compromising situations with him than a mere closet where both of you remain by choice, you swallow hard and exhale quietly.

“It’s fine.” His voice is barely a whisper, low and absentminded like he’s distracted.

You purse your lips, falling silent again until you glimpse a sneaky package of a few medpatches a little deeper into the shelf in front of you. Snatching them up with one hand, you turn around and declare, “Found them.”

Time seems to slow when he turns around to face you, bringing your bodies closer together even though you’re leaning back against the shelf like your life depends on it. His face is shadowed from the dim lighting above your heads, which almost makes his cybernetic eye look like the moon. You perceive the white and silver as an illumination that pauses your breathing and gravitates your gaze toward his scar. Noticing where you’re looking, he frowns and reaches for the box between your fingers in a hasty manner that startles you. Still, quick to adapt, you hold the medpatches closer to your chest and ask, “Too busy…even for you? The infirmary, I mean.”

“Does it matter?” He carefully pulls the package out of your grasp, not once touching you in the process—even accidentally.

You let your arms fall to your sides before squeezing the fabric of your robes. “Well, no, but…it doesn’t not matter.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You know what I mean.”

He rolls his eyes at this, but even that familiar gesture feels half-hearted from his obvious fatigue. You peer up at him closely, wondering why neither of you has left the room by now. It’s already been established that you couldn’t find what you needed. Meanwhile, he got what he came for. The question is simple enough—it’s the answer that you struggle to put your finger on.

“What?” He asks roughly, causing you to realize that you’re staring.

Taken aback by your own lack of control rather than his hostility, you clear your throat and drop your gaze to his chest plate. “If you’re hurt, someone should take a look—”

“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me all the time,” he dismisses, but you’re not convinced. When it comes to him, you’re never fully convinced.

“I’m not worried,” you clarify, taking the box of medpatches from him to tear it open, “I know what you’re doing. I think it’s honorable, but you should let them take care of you, too.”

His expression is wary as he replies, “And what am I doing, exactly? If you care to enlighten me.”

You shrug, setting the opened box on the shelf beside you to free up both of your hands.

“What you always do. Putting your brothers first…” you say quietly while reaching forward toward his armor, “Making sure they—”

Your words cut off when he catches your wrists in one hand. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m helping you. Anyway, it’s my fault you need these in the first place,” you explain, trying to tug yourself out of his grip without too much physical force.

He only tightens his hold at this. Even though you can’t say for certain, you’re almost convinced that he leans in a bit closer before replying, “This is inappropriate.“

“Oh, please,” you scoff, ignoring the humiliation warming your cheeks, “You’re being immature. I’m sorry if you’ve never had your armor taken off by a woman before, but this isn’t that kind of context.”

You’re a bit surprised at yourself for these words as soon as they leave your mouth. Unsure if you just crossed a line, you press your lips together and anticipate a reaction. At first, all you receive is a clenched jaw and a burning stare that makes you realize a stomach-dropping truth. Maybe Wolffe’s right. Maybe this whole situation is inappropriate. If that’s the case, though, the question from earlier still stands. Why are you still here? Why is he still here?

“The women who take my armor off are none of your concern.”

This feels harsher than it actually sounds, but a stinging embarrassment pricks your eyes for a reason you try to discern without reading too deeply into it. Perhaps it’s his tone or the fact that he still holds onto you as if the thought of letting you touch him is simply unfathomable. Or disgusting. One or the other. Unfortunately, you also begin to think about the subject currently in question—the women who have undressed him in less professional settings. Places where you can never even dream of being with him. But you do, and you’re reminded yet again why you shouldn’t.

“I didn’t say they were,” you scowl, averting your eyes from his.

He’s quiet instead of responding, so you continue, “If you’re done proving your point, then let go of me. I’ll get out of your hair.”

A pause that almost feels reluctant passes between the two of you before he releases your wrists. You immediately tuck your hands into your robes, willing away the buzzing heat that strangely combats the cold you felt before this moment. This warmth quickly trickles away, though, diluted by the venator’s unfortunate temperature. But, just as you’re about to leave, it returns in the form of a softer tone you recognize despite not hearing it often.

“It’s not your fault,” he says in reference to your earlier statement regarding his wounds, “I’m fine. It’s a bruise at most.”

You glance up at him, surprised both by this reassurance but also the fact that he hasn’t put an end to this conversation yet. Pushing your back off from the shelf, you find yourself dangerously face-to-face with him as your feet slide into the gap between his legs. You’re standing at your full height now, but you don’t feel as confident as you might appear. Not when he’s looking at you through heavy eyelids that almost seem lazy even though he’s anything but that particular quality. Despite trying to sense his current feelings in hopes of clarifying this inappropriate situation, you’re only thrust into a hazy fog that confuses you more. It’s just as your master always tells you—strong, uncontrolled emotions cloud your judgment. No matter what they are.

“You’re always saving my ass,” you admit to him, “I don’t want that to catch up to you one day.”

His eyebrows raise at this for a brief moment. “You think it will?”

“No, but this war doesn’t care what any of us think.”

“That’s pessimistic. Even for you.”

“Really?” you reply sarcastically with a subtle smile, “I wonder where I got that from.”

He doesn’t react to this other than a flash of amusement that you catch in his eyes as he stares at you. His quiet intensity is so overwhelming that you plead with yourself to leave before you can embarrass yourself further, but the opposite of this wishful thinking occurs beyond your control. Instead of taking a step away, you take one forward. At this point, you’re even closer to him—but he does not move. Your hands are now clasped behind your back even though you’re not actively remembering his words from before—don’t touch me. It’s classic Wolffe to tell you what to do, but it’s not every day when you listen. What is every day, though, is your ability to call him out on his bullshit.

“I don’t know why you haven’t left yet,” you tell him before laughing softly, “Or why you haven’t told me to piss off…because you totally would. If that’s what you wanted.”

He swallows, leaving you wondering if he’s just as nervous as you are. Taking advantage of his silence, you briefly close your eyes and inhale so as to clear your mind. You’re now more certain there’s a way through this conversation rather than around, which will only be proven or denied soon enough.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…even though you don’t want my help…you’re still here,” you continue.

“So are you.”

“Because you don’t have to ask me to stay.”

Another beat of silence consumes the stare both of you hold before he sighs, “Stubborn ass.”

But the insult is hardly effective at offending you, even provoking another laugh that’s louder and sharper this time around.

“You’re one to talk,” you reply, “That’s why you’re not at the infirmary right now.”

“It’s busy,” he repeats his answer from earlier, “The other casualties are more severe. There’s only so many medics available.”

“Well, I’m no medic, but I can tell you that you might have more than a bruise from that fall,” you tell him.

“Well,” he copies your tone, “Since you’re not a medic, I wouldn’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes at this but ignore it otherwise because you know every second spent talking is one wasted in easing his pain. Trying one more time for good measure, you say, “We can just get this over with. It’ll be easier if you let me help you.”

Before he can respond with disagreement or protest, you reach for the top half of his armor again. This time, he doesn’t grab onto you. Instead, he squares his shoulders a bit and replies, “I doubt you can figure it out.”

When you glance up with furrowed eyebrows, he clarifies, “How to take all this shit off, I mean.”

Feeling a bit underestimated, you set your jaw with amusing determination. Of course, this isn’t because of his comment about the other women who might’ve done this before. You’re not even thinking about that—how silly to even remember such a trivial implication. Just as you’re about to prove him wrong, you realize you don’t even know where to start. At first glance, this kind of task doesn’t seem too difficult. But when you lightly tug on his shoulder plate out of curiosity as to what’ll happen (nothing did), you laugh and begin feeling your way around his upper body to find any openings that might make this easier. He sucks in a breath but doesn’t stop you, allowing you to figure this out before interfering.

“I don’t know,” you giggle quietly, slightly embarrassed but also entertained, “Feel free to step in at any point…”

“I think I’m good.”

“You sure? We might be here all day…”

You’re not looking at him as you say this, too far deep into concentrating on the many gimmicks that hold his armor together. Because of this, you miss the brief smile that twitches his lips—but you feel it. A sudden rush of energy sparks your senses, one that you’re aware isn’t your own. It’s similar to affection and joy but also hard to define. A little startled, you lift your head and meet his eyes as your laughter subsides into a calmer silence that seems heavier when considering how your hands are rested against his chest. You’re so close to touching his heartbeat but also so far.

“You’re enjoying this,” you tease despite your heightening nerves, “Watching me struggle.”

“Maybe a little.”

Before you can respond to this, Wolffe exhales and starts taking his armor off himself while holding your gaze. He begins with his arms, never once letting his eyes falter from yours. It’s almost too much to bear, leaving your insides a churning mess as your heart rattles faster against your chest, but it’s also worth the risk. You watch him closely, feeling more seen than ever before. Truth be told, a dark closet is the last place you expect to be found with him. Now that you’re here, though, you silently wish that nobody else comes searching. It doesn’t take long for the armor around his arms and shoulders to fall away, revealing a sight you’ve already seen before from the many missions you’ve endured together. But this moment feels different. You’re not surrounded by other troopers in a crowded medical bay where everyone is either armor-less, shirtless, or somewhere in between. You’re alone with him. He hasn’t even exposed any skin yet, but you know this is already wildly inappropriate. The only problem is…you don’t care.

Still quiet, you carefully brace your hands around the complicated parts of his chest plate. He seems to respond to this with his eyes rather than a verbal command, briefly flicking his gaze downward before meeting yours once again. You inhale a soft breath, letting both intuition and his guiding presence lead you toward the last of this barrier. The pieces of his chest plate are heavier than you anticipate, but you hardly struggle with their weight. Regardless, he takes them from you as soon as they unlatch themselves from his body. You can’t deny the exhilarated rush that floods your veins when you take in the sight of his upper half, still clothed with a skin-tight fabric that never fails to widen your eyes. The shape of his collarbones and the imprints of his muscles stare straight at you. Or maybe you’re just staring at them.

“Turn around,” you whisper, “And take your shirt off.”

His eyes narrow for a split second before he obliges from one order to the next. He turns around first, baring his backside to your perception. You can’t help but look away when he sheds his clothing from his top half, thinking this gesture will ease the intimacy of the present moment. But when you look up again, sliding your eyes over his dark and bruised skin, you realize there is nothing easy about this. The tension doesn’t just freeze you up, though. Through the dim lighting, you can observe every instance the hard plane of his back flexes and stiffens like it’s both anticipating and rejecting someone’s touch. Perhaps under different circumstances, you would admire such a broad and disciplined sight clearly bred from more than just favorable genetics. But when he asks, “How bad is it?” in a hoarse tone that startles you, the real reason for this situation interrupts once again.

You swallow the lump in your throat, unsure why your response is slightly delayed. “Not bad. Just some bruises, like you said.”

He tips his head back a little, supposedly looking up at the ceiling before releasing a breath. This soft sound stutters when you touch his lower back where most of the purplish bruising can be found. His skin is rough, fitting for a man like him. But it’s also warm, contrasting the cold that bites your fingertips.

“Does it hurt?” You murmur while applying a little pressure, “When I do this?”

“No.” But he sounds as if he’s in pain.

You draw your hand back, reaching for the medpatches off to the side. As soon as you begin placing them over his bruises, gently smoothing your hand down so that they stick, he immediately sighs in apparent relief. It sounds more like a groan from the low depth of his voice, though. Goosebumps prickle your arms, but you keep going until you’ve reached a satisfactory point where any remnants of his injury are now encased in this temporary method of healing. Honestly, you still believe he should have gone to the infirmary for a more professional diagnosis—but you cannot complain about this opportunity, either. Your hands are still on his skin even after you’re all done just because he feels so warm.

Suddenly, he breaks the silence. “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, dropping your hands from his body to rub them against each other as if to savor the heat you absorbed from him. You can already feel it disappearing, reminding you that this moment hardly belongs to you. It shouldn’t have even happened. Helping your comrade isn’t necessarily against protocol, but this not-so-innocent favor drives a pang of problematic guilt deep into your heart like a blade wedged between two choices. It’s hard to say what these choices even are, but you already know where your duties lie. No matter how often you dream of another possibility that allows your feelings to truly blossom, you are stuck in the greenhouse where you’ve already pledged your loyalty. The sunlight that has nurtured you ever since you were just a youngling cannot be replaced by the moonlight you crave. Because flowers don’t grow at night. Only dangerous desires do, whispered like the voice in your head that tells you not to cross the line.

Right now, the most dangerous of them all has you wishing for time to move slower so that you don’t reach Coruscant as fast as you initially wanted. The fact is, though, what’s done is done—and you answered this yourself. You sealed it into permanence, widening the distance with every step you take away from his slightly quivering body. He’s shaking so subtly that you almost miss the desperation in his eyes that pierce through yours when he turns his head toward you. Closer to the panel that would open the door now, you pause and stare back at him while wondering if there’s something either of you should be saying. A quick sentence that can lighten the heavy mood bearing down on your shoulders and squeezing your heart. Or, nothing at all. You straighten your back and turn on your heel before anything can slip out. The corridors are much louder as you walk away from the closet, hardly leaving any traces behind but a lingering confession unspoken and unyielding.

It’s still chilly in here, you realize. Because space is terribly, inevitably cold.

[nahoney22]

Hello happy today.

I just read all of your Rex x reader smut oneshots and damn it was sooooooo good,

so I would like to ask if you want to write a Rex x fem!reader with some smutty smut😉 where reader wears a long silky dress and Rex is head over heels for her when she wears it. reader can be a jedi or Senator you decide .

Hope you want to do it and if you don't want to thats totally fine.

Thank you if you do and if you don't thanks for the other storys with rex, ima go read the other ones now.

Bye.

Nightcap*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Captain Rex X SenatorFemale!Reader

word count: 1.9k

prompts: none

When Anakin assigns Rex to a new task, he didn’t expect he would be looking after a Senator. He also didn’t expect to fall in love with you either.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content and language, senate female reader who is wearing a long silky dress (you decide the colour), flirting, Rex gets jealous, minor alcohol consumption, mutual pining, forbidden relationship, friends to lovers, cunnilingus, heavily implied sex.

Sorry for the wait @msblacklupin , enjoy 🩵🌊

Captain Rex stood at attention as his General, Anakin, briefed him on his new assignment: To personally protect the newly appointed Galactic Senator. Rex’s jaw tightened at the task at first. Babysitting a politician wasn’t exactly what he signed up for. However, orders were orders, and he would see it through—no matter how tedious.

But when Rex first met you, the senator in question, his thoughts shifted unexpectedly. You weren’t the stuffy, self-absorbed type he had expected. No, you were something entirely different—warm, kind, and genuinely interested in the people around you. And beautiful. Rex found it hard to ignore just how beautiful you were, though he kept such thoughts to himself.

It was actually starting to annoy him.

Even when his brothers, Jesse and Fives to be precise, nudged and teased him about what he thought of you, he remained tight-lipped, refusing to indulge their curiosity.

As the days turned into weeks, Rex began to appreciate more than just your looks. You were smart, compassionate, and refreshingly authentic. You listened to the clones’ stories, asked about their lives, and treated them with respect.

The moment he knew you were special was when he came with you during a Senate meeting. He stood quietly by your side, witnessing as you passionately defended the clones’ right to continue serving. Another senator had suggested phasing them out, referring to them as mere tools of war. But you weren’t having it.

“Tools?” you’d snapped, voice firm and unwavering. “These men are individuals with thoughts, feelings, and rights. If you can’t see that, then you don’t deserve to represent them—or anyone.”

His chest tightened with a swell of emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. You weren’t just defending clones; you were defending him. It was a level of care he wasn’t used to receiving, especially from someone in such power.

As the days passed, your bond with Rex deepened and it was safe to say the two of you were friends. But, he was also falling for you. Foolishly.

He didn’t realise it at first but when he found himself lingering a little longer during conversations, savouring the moments when you laughed or smiled, he knew he was in trouble.

At night, alone, he would tell himself it’s just a minor crush, something a lot of clones had on Jedi’s or Senator’s who respected them. But you were hard to ignore. Especially after the night of a Galactic Ball.

Assigned to escort you, and though he tried to remain focused on his duty, his breath caught in his throat when you stepped out in your gown. The floor-length, slinky dress shimmered like liquid silk, clinging to every curve. You were stunning in a way that nearly made him forget himself.

“You okay Cap?” You asked through the mirror as you slide your earrings in, noticing him watching you.

“Yes.” He clears his throat and also his gaze, “Never better Senator.”

As you made your rounds at the ball, engaging in tedious conversations with politicians and whoever else, Rex stood close by, vigilant. But beneath his stern exterior, he couldn’t help but feel the twinge of something more—a subtle possessiveness and jealousy when others gave you rather appreciative glances. He told himself it was just his job, but deep down, he knew it was something else entirely.

After hours of enduring the ball, you turned to Rex, your eyes pleading for an escape. “I’ve had enough of this,” you whispered. “Would you mind accompanying me back to my quarters? We could have a nightcap?”

Rex hesitated, torn between protocol and the unspoken pull you had on him. “I shouldn’t. I’m on duty.”

But your smile, soft and inviting, melted his resolve. “Just for a little while? I could use the company.”

You sink into the plush, teal couch in your quarters, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as the opulent surroundings offer a sharp contrast to the exhaustion etched in your posture. "Those grand balls can be a bit much for me," you murmur, kicking off your heels and letting them clatter to the floor.

Rex, ever observant, watches you with quiet appreciation. "They do seem... exhausting," he agrees. He strides over to the small bar, picking up a crystal decanter of Corellian whiskey. "Would you like a drink, Senator?"

You glance at him and nod gratefully. "Please. And pour one for yourself too, Captain. You've been on duty all evening; you deserve it."

He arches an eyebrow, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Rex pours two drinks, the amber liquid swirling in the glasses, before handing one to you. He takes a seat beside you, maintaining a respectful yet comfortable distance.

"You know," Rex begins, taking a sip and fixing you with his sharp gaze, "this life suits you. The grandeur, the politics, the elegance; it all fits you perfectly."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head as you take a sip. "It's ironic you say that. I come from very humble beginnings. My upbringing was far from grand or luxurious; my family scraped by, making ends meet wherever they could." Your gaze grows distant, lost in past memories. "Sometimes, I feel like I don't belong.”

Rex's brow furrows in concern, his focus entirely on you. "I never would have guessed," he says sincerely. "You carry yourself with such grace and strength. No one would ever suspect you came from anything less than this." He gestures to the elegant surroundings.

A small smile tugs at your lips, warmed by his compliment. "It's all just a facade, though. Half the time, I’m questioning if I’m doing the right thing. These politics, the decisions… There's always doubt, this fear that I'm not enough."

Your voice wavers slightly, and Rex instinctively shifts closer, closing some of the distance between you. His gaze is intense, his expression softening as he tries to reassure you. "You're more than enough," he says, his tone firm with conviction. "I've seen how you fight for what's right, how much you care about people—not just those in power, but everyone. That's rare, and it's exactly what this galaxy needs."

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, the world outside seems to fall away. The air between you thickens, charged with something more than just friendly concern. Reaching for your drinks at the same time, your hands brush as you both reach for the same glass. You laugh softly, trying to play it off. "Oops, my mistake."

But the brief touch sends a spark through you, one that's hard to ignore. Rex’s gaze lingers on you, his usual composure cracking slightly as he takes in the sight of you. Your dress has ridden up slightly as you crossed your legs, revealing more of your thigh. His eyes flick downward, betraying his deeper interest.

Flirting bubbles up naturally, your voice taking on a teasing lilt. "Captain, are you sure you're not getting distracted? I noticed the way you were watching me earlier, in the mirror while I was getting ready."

Rex flushes slightly but doesn't shy away. "You looked... incredible. It was hard not to watch." His voice grows more serious, almost reverent. "I admire you more than I can say. You're strong, intelligent, and beautiful. Desirable, even."

The word slips out before he can stop it, and you raise an eyebrow, amused. "Desirable, huh?" you echo, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Just how desirable do you think I am?"

Rex swallows, clearly conflicted, but the attraction between you both is undeniable. His resolve falters as you reach out, taking his hand and guiding it to the silky fabric of your dress. "Go on," you murmur, your tone a mix of challenge and invitation. "You can touch."

His hand rests on your waist, fingers splayed over the smooth fabric as he pulls you closer. The tension finally snaps, and suddenly, his lips are on yours, the kiss fierce and hungry. There’s a moment of hesitation as he pulls back, guilt flashing in his eyes. "I'm breaking so many protocols right now," he mutters, breathless.

You smile, cupping his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips. "So am I, Captain. But it’s worth it, don’t you think?"

That’s all the encouragement Rex needs. He leans back in, his mouth crashing onto yours with a desperation that’s been building for weeks. The kiss is intense, a mixture of longing and release, his hands roaming your body as yours eagerly strip away his uniform. Piece by piece, his armor falls away until he's left in just his blacks.

You giggle as you’re pulled onto his lap, your dress pooling around you. His lips move from your mouth down to your neck, trailing heated and precise kisses along your skin, each one sending shivers down your spine.

“Rex…” you breathe out, your voice filled with need as your fingers graze over his blond buzzed hair.

He groans your name in response, the sound vibrating against your collarbone as he moves lower. Before you can process what’s happening, he gently eases himself down onto the floor. His large hands part your legs, and with a smoldering look, he hooks his fingers under your dress, pushing it higher until it’s bunched around your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire as he kneels between your legs, the sight of you as he tucked your dampened panties to the side, exposed infront of him.

He lowers his head, his mouth descending onto your most sensitive spot. The sensation is electric—his tongue and lips working against your folds with a mix of precision and passion that makes your back arch. You moan his name, your fingers landing on the back of his head as you guide him all the while he devours you with an intensity that leaves you gasping for breath. “Mmm, you taste wonderful.”

Rex holds nothing back, lost in the taste of you, the sound of your pleasure driving him to give more. He alternates between soft licks and firm pressure, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants you. The world around you blurs, the worries of your job fading as the only thing grounding you was the steady rhythm of his mouth and the overwhelming pleasure building inside you.

Your hips start to buck involuntarily, desperate for more as the tension coils tighter. “Rex, I’m so close,” you gasp out, your voice shaking as your body begins to tremble.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t think he would be able to.

Doubling down on his efforts as his brown eyes bore into yours, his tongue flicks in just the right way that sends you spiralling over the edge. Your climax crashes through you, your legs clamping around his head as you cry out in ecstasy. “F-Fuck!” You cry, body shaking.

Rex keeps going until he’s wrung every last tremor from you, only pulling back when you’re completely spent. He looks up at you, his lips slick, eyes dark with a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire. His hands gently stroke your thighs as you catch your breath, still trembling from the intensity.

When you finally regain your composure, you pull him up, capturing his mouth in a deep, languid kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “I want more,” you whisper against his mouth, your tone both needy and commanding.

Rex grins, his voice low and full of promise. “Then I’ll give you everything I’ve got, Senator.”

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

Tags: @lulalovez @whore4rex x @imperialclaw801 1 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone e @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter r @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani

[toastyrobos]

Never again (Rex X female reader one shot)

Word count: 2478

((You and Rex met early during the clone wars. Soon things turned romantic between the two of you. You were off world when order 66 happened. Panicking to find Rex, clone force 99 finds you, and having grown close to Echo, you went with them. When Rex unexpectedly shows up at Cid bar you nearly break at seeing him))

   "Twenty cases of those mantell mix things?! How long have those two been doing that?" Echo's loud voice carried as the four of us filed out of Cid's office into the narrow hall way.

   "I have surmised they have been partaking in this recreational activity for several rotations now". Tech configured, eyes never leaving his datapad.

You shrugged. "It's become a thing they do together after every mission".

Echo grumbled. "A costly one". He did have a point. Hunter wasn't too happy about it either from his narrowed brows and slightly clenched jaw. It was bad enough we owed Cid for basic rations, but now we owed her for this? You sighed.

Wrecker was just treating Omega to a harmless and delicious treat, but unfortunately that treat was racking up credits on your tab. That was exactly what you were trying to avoid.

Hunter let out a deep sigh. "I'll talk to them".

You knew how much he didn't enjoy seeing Omega upset, but maybe he could compromise with her. A way for her to still have the after mission snack while owing Cid a bit less. Frankly though, would you ever owe Cid less?

At this rate, it was doubtful.

Sounds of blaster fire and some sort of crash coming from the bar had your immediate attention. Hunter was the first of you to race ahead to the noises. You and Echo were not far behind, riding his heels. Reaching the bar all of you watched as the remaining species fled from the scene. Only individual left was a hooded figure, gripping on tightly to a singular blaster. The source of said blaster shots.

Something about his demeanor and cloaked face felt known to you. But you couldn't place it. Until your scanning gaze fell to his forearm armor.

White and and blue.

Your breathing paused. Unable to register what you were truly seeing.

It couldn't be.

It was not possible.

But it all became real when the hidden figure reached up and pulled back his hood. Revealing his familiar face to you.

You were stunned at the sight before you. At the person standing mere feet from you.

    "Rex". Hunter said surprised. He was just as shocked to see him here as the rest of you were.

You on the other hand forgot how to breath. Your eyes froze on his figure. Eyes roaming him up and down repeatedly to make sure that he was not a hallucination. A well of emotions came rushing into you. Like someone had punched you in the gut.

He was alive.

Rex was actually alive. Tears were beginning to swell in the corners of your eyes as you racked your brain for anything. But nothing.

Everything had left your head at just seeing him standing here. At the way he was looking at you. Surprised was not how he felt. No. If anything he was beyond thrilled to see you.

The second your name and where to find you left the sisters lips he plotted his course. He had to see you. Take you in his arms and never let you go. His chest rose and fell in rapidly succession at your presence.

It was as if everything and everyone around you two had faded into the backyard and you were the only two in existence. Just you and Rex. Your beating heart picked up speed the longer you stared at one another. The way he was looking at you. That smile painted across his lips, maker that smile. If not for the shock, you were certain your knees would buckle and give out from under you.

Even the way his essence was calling out to you. Beckoning you towards him.

You were hesitant, however.

Tech's earlier statements about the inhibitor chips coming to the front of your thoughts. Bracing yourself and taking a deep breath you pushed past Hunter.

Inch by inch you moved closer. Searching his face for proof that he wasn't here to hurt you, any of you. For any indication that he hadn't turned. All the while he continued to stare at you with that look that made your heart flutter and ache so desperately.

Being this close to him, even on edge, force, was he still himself. Still your Rex.

   "Starglow". The unshed tears filling your eyes, broke open. You instantly knew.

This was him.

Your Rex.

He wasn't going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. Because of this you leapt into his awaiting arms. Crashing your body against his and tightly securing your arms around his neck. His arms found your waist and pulled you close. Orange blossoms. Oh how he had missed that smell of yours. How he had missed the feel of you.

    "Rex". Your voice cracked as you spoke his name for the first time out loud, in several rotations. "Y-your here".

   "I am mesh'la". He choked back his own sob. "And maker I've missed you". So had you. So much that it had ached like a festering wound. Neither of you dared nor wanted to pull away, but you did, reluctantly so.

You grasped his face between your hands, studying it closely. His piercing brown eyes staring into your green ones. How the came alive underneath the dim gray and blue lights of the bar.

The texture of his dirty blonde stubble underneath your fingers. The scratchy nature of how it felt. The barely visuals scars etched into his skin. The way his lips framed his face so beautifully. You had missed him. And you didn't know just how much until he was mere inches from your face. From your lips.

Both of you were aware of it. How you both longed to touch one another. Close the distance the feel the warmth of the others lips. Rex's eyes were the ones to make the first move. Gliding over how lush they appeared. Parted just so. And with the simple action of your tongue running over them in anticipation that's all it took for him to break.

Lips collided with yours in a desperate plea. Fighting to feel, to touch the other after thinking one another dead. The mere sensation of his lips molding into yours sent your body into overdrive. You always lost yourself in his kiss. In his embrace. No one else made you feel as alive as Rex did.

That smile of his, you knew the one, that gave you butterflies. And when it would change into a smirk, may the force have mercy on you. You heart couldn't take it. His infectious laughter that would echo off the walls of whatever environment he was in. Usually caused by one of his fellow 501st members telling a dreadful joke. Who would have thought you'd lose all of that in the blink of an eye. Only for it turn up weeks later. Safe and sound.

Thankful you were that those memories didn't have to become mournful ones. Instead they could continue to exist as they were. Ones that held promises for the future.

It had been a grueling time not knowing. Waiting and waiting for any signs, but now it was over.

You Practically slumped into his chest as he just held you close to his heart. The steady beating of it the only sound that could kept you grounded in this instant. The cold surface of his armored platting on your cheek was a welcomed sensation.

You needed this. To feel his heartbeat. To know that he was real. That he was right here, in this moment. Nearly losing him almost destroyed you.

You let out a shaky breath. "I though I lost you, Rex". Tears slid down your cheeks. "I though my —you—" you couldn't even finish that sentence. Rex knowing the pain you went through, as it was the same pain he experienced. He tightened his arms around you, nestling his head in the crock of your neck.

Feeling his arms around you, like a warm protective blanket you started to relax. The muscles in your body becoming less tense, Knowing that he was safe. That he was right in front of you.

His own muscles started to calm. Like a fleeting flame. He didn't have to worry or fret over searching for you anymore. He had found you.

As crazy as it sounded he would have gotten on his knees and physically thanked the force, to the stars and back again that he had you back.

He let out his own unsteady exhale. "I know".

He did not want to pull away from you, but like you he had the overwhelming urge to see your face. See all the marks and impressions he hadn't seen it what felt like a lifetime.

Needing something to anchor him, he sought out the one thing that could. You.

It was always you.

Bringing you closer, he touched his forehead to yours. Kissing you was so very intimate, but this. This was too. At least between the two of you.

"I'm here now, riduuar and I don't plan on going anywhere". He promised.

You shook your head, confused. "I don't understand. How—wh-what happened?"

Thousands of questions twisted around inside your head. How did this all happen? Why did it happen? Could no one have seen what had transpired? It was encompassing. Paired with Rex bring here. By the maker you were finally feeling the affects of todays mission catching up with you.

"I'll explain everything". He promised, seeing how exhausted you were becoming. "But right now, I just want to hold you". You simple nodded.

You wanted answers and you were certain that he'd tell you everything later, but right now his request, you could and would fulfill-it. As easy as breathing.

"Thank the f-force your safe". You whispered against his chest plate.

He ran his gloved fingers through your hair. Committing every moment he'd done this before to memory.

Kissing you was absolutely his favorite thing, without a doubt. But this. This was a close second. Something about it soothed him. Made any tense or stressful situation better.

Too engrossed in one another aura's, basking in it, you had forgotten that you had an audience. An audience that was rendered speechless by the affections exchanged between you and the now ex captain of the 501st Battalion.

All expect the ex arc trooper standing off to the side. Who had known the full extent and lengths of Rex's and yours relationship. He was present there that day. One of only a few who were witnesses to the pledge you both proclaimed.

It was undeniable, the love you two shared with each other. No doubt in Echo's mind that the both of you were meant to be together.

Wrecker was the first of the group to speak. "W-what...did I miss something?!"

Tech was the next one to speak, offering up an explanation, "Technically no. By my calculations Rex and Y/N have been in a committed romantic relationship for a standard 368 days".

His much larger brother simply stared at him in confusion.

"A standard year, Wrecker". Echo quickly explained. Understanding he formed an 'O' shape with his lips.

You and Rex both shook your heads. "Longer". Tech blinked. "It's actually been 2 standard years since we told one another how we felt". You locked eyes with Rex, your continued smile everything to him in that moment.

The Captain nodded. "It's been one since we said I do". That had their full attention.

Hunter took a step towards you. "Y-your married?"

You nodded. "Yes. Off record though. Only a few were able to know". You gestured to the former arc trooper. "Echo being one of them".

The Sergeant turned his eyes to the newest member of the group. "You were there?"

"Me and a few others were the only ones". He replied to which Hunter nodded. Satisfied. Knowing the full extent of the reprimand the Captain would receive if the Council found out the truth. That he was married to a princess.

The consequences for such an act could have cost him his position. Or worse. His life. Thus a secret their relationship needed to be. Unfortunately.

"Well then uhh congratulations to you both". Hunter replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded in acknowledgment to Hunter. When you thought you had lost Rex, he was the one to step up and comfort you. Reassuring you that you'd be okay. Even if in that moment you didn't feel as though you would.

All of them really made you feel welcomed. After all they were the ones who stumbled across you. Ushering you to come with them. Saying that they could protect you and guarantee your safety. You accepted. Thank the maker you had. If not, then maybe you would have never seen Rex again. And that left a bitter taste on your tongue.

"Thank you". You said at the same time as Rex slipped his hand into yours.

Love was a concept that Rex never thought was possible for him. He never dreamed of having it because it was instilled in him early on that clones were bred with one singular purpose. To fight for the Galactic Army of the Republic. Never had the thought nor idea of finding someone, in that regard, crossed his mind.

Until you came into his life. Changing everything for the better.

"Your here". You whispered into him. You were still in disbelief. Tears streaming down your cheeks like an endless river. Rex lifted his gloved fingers to swipe away your tears, that affectionate grin warming your body. "Your really here".

He was real, yet you still couldn't wrap your head around it, but that wasn't important. All that mattered was him. What this meant for you. For the life you promised to build together that day overlooking the lake when you swore an oath through vows. When you both said 'I do'.

"I am". He replied again. This time the power in which he uttered it, caused your body to shake. The weight those two words held. What they signified.

"I love you". Was your quick response. Even if Rex knew it deep down in his soul, to hear it again from your lips made him so beyond happy.

Another kiss found it's way to your lips. "I love you too".

Smiling, you pressed in closer to his chest. Wanting to be close to him for as long as physically possible. Rex was your everything. Your best friend. Your lifeline. To him, you were his entire world. All roads led you back to one another.

Determined he was that the force weld it so. And as far as the Captain was certain he wouldn't allow you to be parted from him ever again. Not while there was still blood flowing through his veins.