#fox x reader

[the7thheroine]

Ren hana red String of fate au

(Honestly I’m trying to get the ball rolling on someone writing a string of fate Ren hana x Reader because i hate reading my own work as a fic so if someone else did it I would be so greatful 😭)

(During Strade)

• When Ren had the string during Strade, often Strade would threaten Ren with it and tried to make him cut it off a few times

•when he’d be alone in the basement or in his room he would be contemplating you, what you were like, where you were, and if you were a beast kin like him.

•He’d almost always go to the basement when there was a victim to ensure it wasn’t you. If it was you he’d freak out and beg Strade. (You’d probably die tbh)

•Ren would love you no matter though, even if your millions of miles away and he doesn’t know where. He’s always praying that one day if he gets free, he’d be able to hunt you down.

During btd 2

•now, this is probably the worst time to meet Ren as he’s going through a crisis without Strade and being stuck between being a killer or getting help

•if you met him he’d kidnap you 🤷‍♀️ your his so why is it wrong is what he thinks.

•He’d be so in love with you and would always be touching you and holding onto you

•If he met you in the bar with Lawrence he’s definitely ditching Lawrence and putting the drug in your drink in order to take you home.

• He hates if you try and leave or if you insult him. he doesn’t want to hurt you! But if you keep disobeying and being a bad soulmate he’ll result to it.

•he refuses to make “content” with you. Your his for his own personal pleasure and he’d never share anything remotely physical of you!

(The price of flesh)

•by now Rens gone cold. he’s hardened up and is no longer the soft guy he was.

•he doesn’t really think of you much as he’s now focused on work and his “toys”

•your always there though in his head, always lingering. He can never keep a toy too long as he feels like he’s betraying you and your trust.

•When he meets you though, it’s like a switch flips. He becomes obsessed.

•he was going to target you as a victim, but now he knows your his soulmate? Not a chance.

•he stalks you for a long time. Watching, and learning about you. And eventually he sets up the perfect way to meet you to your preference. So you’ll fall for him immediately.

• He does Trust you and love you, but he can’t be without you now he has you. So he locks you up in a fancy house with everything you need.

•Punishments are far and few but if you do miss behave he’s taking you to the chop shop and your getting streamed buddy.

•He treats you extremely well, however if he’s ever in a bad mood or just feeling particularly sour over his past he’s going to give you a few scratches.

#ren hana #ren #the price of flesh #ren hana x reader #the price of flesh x reader #the price of flesh fox x reader #fox x reader #Strade #strade btd #ren btd #ren x reader btd #soulmate au #soulmates #soulmate x reader

[hiskillingjar]

'You're his pet now.'

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Injury Recovery, Power Imbalance, Coercion Length: Multi-chaptered, 2600+ words

Summary: After surviving hell, how do you navigate your relationship with the Devil?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48528574

“Ngh…ah.”

You were supposed to be dead. That much you knew.

The second you woke up, the only thing that you could initially register was just how much your body hurt. It felt like you had been hit by a truck or trampled by a crowd or a pack of animals.

The next thing you registered, when you lurched forward and let out a long, pained groan, almost doubling up on yourself as your bandaged abdomen started to ache and twist, was that you were leaning up on a bed.

You weren’t on a thin mattress on the ground, nor were you in your cell or the dreaded 'filming room’. 

You were on a normal bed, in a normal room.

Well, maybe not normal. 

It looked a little like a hospital room, albeit a fancy one, when you blinked your heavy eye(s), peering around. A private suite with beige walls and tasteful decorations adorning them, pine furniture, a bedside table for get-well-soon cards and flowers. Your sheets were white and crisp and clean, and when you moved your arm, you could see a needle was pressed and taped inside, providing you with a drip feed. You could also feel a tube in your nose when you reached up to touch your face.

When you moved your other arm, though, you found it bound down to the side of the hospital bed. But the bindings were loose and made of expensive leather and fur that felt soft and soothing against your skin that had been rubbed raw by chains and metal. 

Emphasising that they were there to restrain you, but not to hurt you.

When you gave the cuffs another tug, a thick chain rattled against the metal and an intense pain shot across your left shoulder, making you take in a reflexive hiss and squeeze your eye(s) shut. 

The marred socket was still irritating and itchy, despite how well (you guessed) it was healing from the thick wadding that now covered it, covering half your face.

“You’re awake.”

You flinched at the sudden and familiar sound of...Fox, sitting on the other side of the room next to the closest window. He balanced an espresso cup on his knee and his legs crossed tight, sparing barely a glance at you as he looked out at the view outside. 

It was nighttime. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up?

"Hope you've been enjoying your little nap." He continued, his tone dry but lighthearted like he was talking to a neighbour or a colleague, as he took a quick sip from his cup, keeping his eyes on the night skyline outside. A city. "I can see the nurses have taken good care of you."

"Fox?" You mumbled warily as you sat up a little more on your best, pressing your free hand to your abdomen, trying to soothe the pain as the cuffs were pulled taught and tight against your other wrist. "Where...where am I?"

"Now that's a good question," He said with a thoughtful hum, finally looking over at you with more interest, one of his thick brows raising and wrinkling his forehead in a subtle way (a handsome way). 

He looked good, all things considered. He looked normal. 

He was dressed nicely, in a high-neck sweater and a well-pressed grey suit, his hair combed back and his ears standing high to attention. He looked like a man who had just walked straight out of a business meeting, handsome, in control, and a little intimidating to those that opposed him. 

You had to wonder how many other businessmen made their livings in snuff porn, though. 

Probably a few.

"How about you tell me how much you remember?" He then asked around the rim of the espresso cup as he took another sip, his tail swishing to and fro behind him.

Your brow furrowed pensively as you tried to remember...well, anything. 

You remembered the auction, the haze of colours, the bickering voices debating your worth, the burning stamp of red and blue (the occasional flicker of green) inside your lids. You remembered the announcer, his cheerful voice, and you remembered begging him to take you instead, to spare you from whatever these...people had planned for you. 

You remembered the cameras and the screens, the haze of white imprinted that had still soaked into your vision. You remembered the heckling from an unseen audience that cheered and begged for your blood, your suffering. 

You remembered the twisting ache of chains and bondage. You remembered your eye (or lack thereof), you remembered the demeaning costumes, you remembered the pain. You remembered the cell you were kept in and you remembered being so drugged up on painkillers most of the time, you could barely remember your name.

But you didn't remember why your abdomen was throbbing with agony or why every inch of your body was aching, and you didn't remember how you got here, or why you were still even alive.

Fox looked at your face, a light smile growing across his own (dimpling his deep smile lines and the markings on his cheeks) at the sight of your confusion and uncertainty.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked with a light chuckle after a few long moments, his ears flattening just a little on top of his head as he tilted his head. "Or is it all a blur?" He tutted softly with a shake of his head as his ears pointed again. “Poor dear. What’s gotten you so… lost?” 

His voice turned a touch condescending and mocking as he spoke those last few words, a subtle tone of amusement and pleasure behind them which made your aching stomach twist.

"Why am I still alive?" You said softly as you leaned up more, sitting up against the recline of the bed. "Why are we in a normal hospital? Why am I not in my cell?"

He was quiet for a moment, taking another drink from his cup, savouring the taste with an indulgent roll of his shoulders as he ran his tongue over his fangs in a slow and considered way. He then lowered the cup back down to his knee, with a light clatter of porcelain. 

"You really don't remember, hm?" He said dryly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his gaze golden and glittering with cruel amusement . You shook your head. "Well, what do you remember last? The auction, perhaps?"

"Uh…yeah, yeah, I remember that just fine." You said, a frown tightening the lines of your face (you wouldn't be surprised if you had more, you felt like you had aged decades). "I remember asking...begging, really, for you to take me instead of selling me to the others." You grimaced as you felt a sudden flare of pain in your shoulder, reaching up to idly knead at it and finding a thick swath of bandages stuck to your skin which spanned across your shoulder and down your bank. "It was...kind of a dumb choice, in hindsight."

"Well, that's one way of describing it." He continued, breathing out a short (practised) chuckle through his nose as a sharp smirk spread across his features, his fangs hooking over his lips the more he spoke. "But, and maybe I’m biased…I'd say it was probably the right choice." He then said, standing to his feet and pacing to the side of your bed, one hand in his pocket, his clawed thumb hooked around the fabric. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You weren’t too sure if you should agree or not, but he’d gotten you to a hospital and made sure you weren’t dead. What was the point in getting on his nerves now?

"I guess," You said with a shrug (despite your throbbing shoulder), letting your unrestrained arm drop back down to your side. The needle was starting to throb too, like you needed any more pain. "I'm alive, that's true...though I still don't really know why." You leaned back further against the hospital bed (the best you could), letting your head loll back on the cushions and considering him as he stepped closer. "You were going to kill me. I was sure of it."

"And yet, here you are!" He stood at the side of your bed, a wide and playful grin on my face as he set his coffee cup on the bedside table. “You’re alive, you’re healing, you're even relatively healthy, if your nurses are to be trusted. How lucky are you!”

Well, he was certainly right about that. Regardless of how much pain you were in, regardless of how much your body was throbbing and struggling just to keep you upright, you were healing. 

He was making sure you were healing. 

You swallowed hard, wondering why he was so determined for you to heal.

"I'm not going to.” He then said with a considered sigh. “Kill you, that is." You could see a little twinkle of mirth in his golden eyes as his head tilted again, his tail swishing behind him as he looked down on you. "What do you think that means, then? What does that mean to you?" He then asked, his voice playful and almost teasing, like he was telling you a good joke.

"I don't really know," You said, giving your cuff a little tug as you looked up at him with your good eye. “I…really don’t.”

"Well, since you’re so lost,” He grinned, his smile sharp and threatening (though you’re not sure he intended it that way). “Let me enlighten you." He perched himself on the side of your bed, resting a hand on your knee (underneath your blankets), the wide grin not leaving his face as he looked at you intently, his eyes bright and hungry . "It means… I like you too much to kill you. " 

You took in a sharp gasp, your eye(s) widening in shock once he assured you of the thing you were so scared of, so unsure of, (so secretly wanting of).

"Is that a good enough reason for you?" He then said softly. 

You could feel his warm breath across the side of your neck as he leaned a little closer to you, looking at you intently, his voice dripping, oozing with playful teasing. The touch on your knee tightened just a little.

"You...you like me?" You murmured quietly, so quiet that you were sure that only the two of you could hear it.

"Oh, darling ," He crooned softly as his grin eased just a touch into a smirk, his other hand reaching up to your chin to gently direct your gaze to his own, his eyes softening with fondness and...indisputable lust. "I adore you."

You swallowed a little tightly as he got closer to you, so close you could see the dimples of his smile lines, the creases around and under his eyes, and the freckles that dotted his cheeks.

You weren’t especially surprised by his admission. 

It did make sense, in hindsight, in some twisted kind of way. 

He had been quite sweet to you during the streams despite everything, taking the time to praise you when you behaved, to tend to your wounds, to assure you of his intentions and to make sure you were okay after all was said and done.

Maybe he did like you.

That didn't stop you from feeling nervous, though.

"And more than that..." He continued, his tail swaying just a little more (maybe it was even wagging…did foxes wag their tails?) “I want to keep playing with you , I want to make you beg for more, I want to own you." He leaned in a little bit closer, whispering in your ear softly, your faces inches apart as his soft, unruly hairs wisped against your cheek "I want to make you mine...and I always get what I want."

You were sure of that.

There were a few moments of heavy quiet, his breathing slow as he pulled away from you just a touch, enough that you could see his face, the soft flush to his cheeks, the mischievous, almost boy-ish twinkle in his eyes.

"So, what would your response be to that, then?" He whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Do you want to be mine?"

"I mean…do I have much of a choice?" You asked quietly, though the warmth of his voice against your skin was…kind of nice and enough to make you shiver with a subdued rendition of pleasure.

"Not really, no," He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head, his expression fond and patient, almost like he had expected you to ask a question like that. "Either you become mine, or..." 

Or.

You swallowed again. 

He took another quiet moment to consider your expression, your stiff posture, the nervousness in your eyes, as if he was waiting for an answer, before he let out another little chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he let go of your chin and gave you two light taps on the cheek.

You flinched, your face absolutely burning at the condescending little gesture. “Think about it!” He said easily, casually, like he was negotiating a business deal and not coercing you into a never-ending dynamic of ownership and servitude. He smiled and stood to his feet, letting go of your knee and giving his blazer a little tug to fix it into place. “You have plenty of time to, after all. And who knows?” He held his arms out in a wide gesture of casual friendliness. “You might come to like the idea!”

You didn’t say anything. Your cheeks were still blazing from the light taps.

“Well, get some rest, sweetie,” He then said, letting his arms drop to his sides with a quirked grin, showing you his fangs (again, you weren't sure if the threatening gesture was entirely on purpose). “I want you strong and healthy, after all! I’ll see you later.”

“Wait!” You said quickly, sitting forward and forcing the cuff on your wrist to pull tightly, almost digging into your skin as your arm was jerked back painfully. “Y-You’re going to leave me here? All on my own?”

“Mmhmm,” He nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and raising his brows at the quickness of your question, as if he was surprised that this was what you were concerned about. “There’s work to be done, after all. But I’ll visit you again soon, and your nurses will take great care of you.”

You sat back against the bed with a soft sound of defeat, looking down at your lap.

“Right, okay…” You murmured, fiddling with your fingers (the best you could with the cuff so tight). “...How soon?”

You flinched again when Fox let out a string of barking laughs, real and loud and authentic , his shoulders shaking with amusement and his tail wagging as he did his best to cover his amusement with his hands.

“Oh! Oh my, oh darling,” He said through his giggles, leaning towards you again, his hands on the bed and his smiling face near yours. “That is absolutely precious, it really is! You’re so needy already,” He grinned then and pressed his nose into your hair, like a quick affectionate nuzzle. It’s almost a kiss and it almost makes your heart race. “And oh-so-sweet. We’re going to have such a good time together, I can already tell.” 

You didn’t say anything, but your flushing face said more than enough for him.

“Rest up. And try not to miss me too much, okay?~ ❤”

#the price of flesh #fox tpof #ren hana #ren hana x reader #ren x mc #fox x reader #fox x mc #ray's fics #i'm insaneeeeeee mental asylummmmmm #i wanna go full rebecca the yellow wallpaper with fox i'm sorryyyyyy

[vodika-vibes]

Hi, love~ I am back with request #7 (last one)

This time, I'm choosing Fox, with an opal, and at midday. He needs some love. Some *good* love. Real good love. The kind of love that makes him realize he's worth loving. Give this man the bestest love for me 🫶🏻

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Not A Question Of Worth

Summary: You remind Fox that your love for him isn’t conditional.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Reader

Word Count: 744

Prompt: Opal - Faithful Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm not sure if I hit the prompt for this one. I had an idea and I wanted to write that, but maybe I also did? I dunno, I'm getting sick and it's making everything hard. Also. If you wanted to send me a prompt for my baby boy Dogma I would love you forever and a day. 🥺

You know when Fox has had a bad day.

Partly because Thire and Thorn and Stone, sometimes all of them, will shoot you a message giving you heads up. But also because you know Fox. And you know his moods.

So when you get a message just before you leave work for the day, a warning from Stone that Fox had a really bad day, you’re already planning on what you can do to make his evening better.

On your way home, you stop by his favorite restaurant and grab the food you ordered in advance, you pop into the florist and grab a bouquet of his favorite small purple flowers, and you dip into a bakery to buy a premade cake.

If you’d had more time, everything would have been individually ordered, but such is life you suppose.

You hurry home, and you’re not surprised when you step into the home you share with Fox and you hear the shower running. If the day was as bad as Stone implied, your Fox will want to wash the day off his skin before he sees you.

Your perfect man seems to think that if he touches you after a bad day, he’ll do nothing but hurt you. Which is silly, but if it helps him feel better than you’re not going to question it.

In any event, the fact that he’s distracted, means that you’re able to get the room ready. The flowers are put in a vase and set on the table. The curry is removed from the containers and placed on the fancy china that your mom gave you when you moved out of her house. The cake is put on a fancy platter and cut into slices. Two scented candles are lit and set a safe distance away from the flowers.

And then you dart into the bedroom and peel off your work clothes for something more comfortable. 

And you managed to do so in less than five minutes.

You’re doing one last check of the kitchen, making sure that everything looks perfect, when the shower stops. You turn to the bedroom door and, only moments later, Fox steps out of the bedroom clad in his sleep pants and nothing else.

It takes everything in you to not swoon for him. He really is so handsome that you just want to cry.

“Cyare,” Fox’s voice is rough, “Welcome home.”

He looks exhausted, you note. You’re glad you prepared everything before he got out of the shower. Now he just has to enjoy it.

You walk over to him and slide your arms around his waist, “Stone sent me a message and said you had a rough day.” You stand on your toes and kiss him, “Did the shower help?”

“A little.” He leans his forehead against yours, “I meant to have dinner ready for you-”

You beam at him, “You’re so sweet!” You lightly pull back and take his hands with yours, “Luckily, I took care of it.” Gently, you tug him into the kitchen, and he pauses in the doorway.

You watch him scan the room. From the flowers and candles, to the food and the cake, and then he focuses his gaze on you, “What’s all of this, cyare?”

“Well, Stone said you had a rough day, so I thought I’d try to make it a little better. Do you like it?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he turns to look at you, “I’m not worth all of this. I didn’t do anything for-”

You reach up and press your fingers against his lips, gently interrupting him. “My love is not conditional, Fox. You don’t have to do anything to earn my love. You have it anyway.”

He stares at you, and you can’t help but hope that maybe, this time, he’ll believe you when you say that. Though you’ll repeat it as often as you need to. 

Fox sighs and presses a kiss against the pads of your fingers. “I’m not worthy of you. You should be with someone brighter…like Cody.”

“It’s not a question of worth, Fox.” You kiss him gently and then kiss him again and again, “I love you. I choose you. It’s as simple as that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he ducks his head and kisses you deeply, “I love you” He says against your lips, “Thank you for loving me enough to try and make my day better.”

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #gn!reader fic #answered asks

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Hi! *Waves like a weird-o*

You probably already know this, but I absolutely love your writing and you truly are so talented. Please never stop!! Even if you just write for yourself!!!

So I do have a mini request if you don't mind of course. Post-sex cramps? For female reader? Clone of your choice of course and any way you wanna write it; NSFW or NFW.

No rush of course!! Thank you!! ❤️

- Hales

And here is cat + kitten(s) for your troubles. And puppies if you like those better. And a snake if you like those too.

hiiii friend! *waves back like a weirdo* first of all, thank you so much?? for the kind words?? omg. I appreciate you so much—and the pictures of the baybiessssss! I love all of them, please give them snoot boops for me (if they're yours ofc). anyways, I hope this is somewhat in line with what you envisioned! I opted for the fluff/SFW route because I need that tonight lol enjoy! <3

Comforting Touches

Summary: Some HCs and blurbs about how the commander batch comforts you through some post-sex cramping.

Warnings: no actual sex described but still mature content so 18+, minors get outta here; f!reader, fluff, i guess hurt/comfort?, big strong stoic men being soft and loving

Word Count: 1.1k

dividers by @saradika and @dystopicjumpsuit

Cody

Like with many other things in his life, Cody is nothing if not thorough. Meticulous in the way that he picks you apart and puts you back together, painstaking in the image of self-confidence and dominance that he exudes when he’s intimate with you. 

And just as attentive to your needs after he makes you finish several times. If you wince in pain from the cramps beginning to twist your insides, despite the many orgasms he’d given you, he’s all over that. 

Tilts your head to the sides to check your vitals, gets you meds, and frowns when you try to shoo him off. “You’re not goin’ anywhere until you’re good, cyar’ika.” 

More than anything, you’re just grateful to still be sitting on the edge of his bunk. Between the shakiness in your legs from the strain of having him buried inside you just a few minutes ago, and the pain tugging at your body, you have no energy to stand right now. Cody sighs, a furrow deepening between his brows; you can’t resist the impulse to smooth his skin with your thumb. You trace the outline of his scar when his expression doesn’t relax. 

“Did I cause this?” he asks. Despite the way he tries to hide it, you can hear the concern underlying his words. 

Sighing, you shrug with one shoulder. “Kinda. But it’s okay,” you hurry to assure him. “It’s, um, most often caused by...intense orgasm. Or just intense sex. Happens now and then.” 

He blinks at you, your words clearly taking a moment to compute. Almost unbidden, a small groan escapes him. “O-Oh.” 

“Mhm.” You clench your teeth as another wave of cramps knifes through you. “Worth it.”

He cups your face in one hand, the other resting on your bare thigh, kneading your soft flesh. “Good. Because I can’t promise I won’t be able to keep myself from making you cum like that again.” 

His words are a promise, and you know Cody never breaks promises.

Wolffe

Listen I know we all think Wolffe is this hard-ass, mean dom (and he is) but he’s also very caring. Hard shell, gooey insides.

The minute you show signs of being in any kind of discomfort he’s right there, cradling you to his chest, smoothing his warm palms over your thighs, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. 

“Where’s it hurt, mesh’la?” 

You curl in on yourself within Wolffe’s embrace, your body trying to wrap itself around the dull pain blossoming in your center. Though pleasure lingers in your limbs, this unfortunate side-effect of sex occasionally makes an appearance, particularly after a good romp with Wolffe. Normally it’s not so bad, but right now, you just want to squeeze into a ball and sleep until the cramping fades.

“M’sorry if I hurt you,” Wolffe rumbles in your ear, his voice soft and quiet. “I know I can be rough.” 

“S’not that,” you say with a small smile. “Just...does this when it’s really good.”

“That seems counterintuitive.” 

You bark a short laugh. “Tell that to whoever designed the female human body.” 

Wolffe tucks your head under his chin and presses a large, warm hand over your tummy to act as an impromptu heating pad until the cramps dissipate, his lips pressing chaste, close-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders to help distract you. You hum in contentment, drawing lazy circles on his bare hip, relishing how his muscles flex under your touch.

Fox

If the cramps take a bit to set in, and you’re both already re-dressed and ready to go about your days, Fox will still immediately put his very busy schedule on hold to make sure you’re okay. 

Gives you pain meds, extra water, and kisses you sweetly. “Why don’t you lay on the couch here for a bit until you feel better, sarad?” 

If/when you protest, he simply gives you his best deadpan look—which is quite good, considering he’s perfected it through use on his men—and crosses his arms, cocking his hip. 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, the slight smile tugging at your lips vanishing into a twisted grimace at the next wave of cramping. Fox sighs and ushers you to the old, ratty couch he’d acquired for his office. He guides you to sitting down at the least, and nods in approval when you draw your legs up to your chest and hug your knees to put pressure on your center where the cramps are the worst. 

When he goes to turn away, you reach out to snag his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Fox?” 

“Hm?” He looks down at you, graying curls sweeping over his forehead. 

“Sit with me?” 

“Of course.” He graces you with a soft smile, retreats for just a moment to retrieve his datapad, and settles into the couch next to you. He rests one arm along the back of the couch; you snuggle into his warmth, grateful that he hasn’t yet put on the top half of his armor, and let your eyes drift shut, listening to the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his fingers over his datapad while he works. You’d be able to fall asleep there, in post-orgasmic near-bliss. 

Rex

Rex realizes that something is amiss the moment that you don’t roll over to cuddle him after he returns from getting you a warm rag to clean off with.

When you simply groan your answer, the post-sex cramps clenching your insides a little more intensely than you’re used to, he’s instantly in Protective Partner Mode. 

“I’ve got you, cyare.” 

With strong, steady hands, Rex gently repositions you on the bed so that you’re lying on your front, before settling his knees to either side of your thighs. His thumbs, calloused and rough, rub slow, comforting circles along your spine, from your butt to your neck and back. Though he knows by now that he can’t do much in the way of helping your cramps aside from offering pain meds (which he retrieves as soon as he realizes what’s going on), he can offer you relaxation of other sorts. 

His practiced hands work away all the knots and kinks in your back, urging your entire body into a state of bliss beyond the post-orgasm glow. 

“How’s this, cyare?” he asks, voice quiet, contemplative. 

“Feels s’good,” you mumble, face smushed into the sheets. “Thank you, Rex.” 

“Always.” He leans over you to press a kiss to the side of your head. “I’d say that I’d stop doing whatever causes these cramps, but—”

“Don’t you dare,” you interrupt, playfully glaring out of the corner of your eyes. “You know damn well the orgasms you give are worth this discomfort.” 

He preens just a little at that, and if he happens to give your butt a squeeze or two while resuming his massage, well, that’s his deal. 

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry

#commander cody x reader #commander wolffe x reader #commander fox x reader #captain rex x reader #rhiwrites #rhiplies #cody x reader #wolffe x reader #fox x reader #rex x reader #tcw x reader

[wanderinginksplot]

Commander Fox + Mercenary!Reader

As a mercenary, you travel in and out of Coruscant a lot. You find it more than a little strange that Commander Fox himself always seems to be on the Coruscant Guard team investigating your transport when you come back planetside...

Commander Fox x gn!reader (platonic-ish, with a hint toward future feelings)

Thanks to @nowait-whathappened for the prompt!

Word Count: 3.4k words

Warnings: mentions of weapons, mentions of bodily injuries, implied lack of trust

Masterlist

---

“Transport 47816, prepare for boarding.”

The groans that echoed through the transport ship were instant and harsh. None of the familiar faces around you held an expression more pleasant than ‘irritation’, but you were well used to this by now. 

“Why?” Kann bit out harshly. You tried not to roll your eyes, but it was a close thing. As the Lament’s near-constant pilot, Kann knew exactly why you were being boarded just outside of Coruscant’s airspace, but that didn’t mean he was going to make things easy. 

“Transport 47816, you’re returning from a neutral star system. It’s protocol.”

Kann snarled. “Shove the protocol up your-”

“Shut up and let the troopers on the ship,” Skoh ordered. “I don’t have time for you to argue with the whole damn Guard.”

Despite his previous eagerness for a fight, Kann clenched his jaw and nodded. “Dropping shields now.” 

Kann was one of the more reckless members of the Lament, but Nakte Skoh was a force to be reckoned with. When the tall Togruta spoke, every one of the mercenaries on the team listened. Disobeying him was a good way to get killed - sometimes by the enemy and sometimes by Skoh himself. 

The troopers who boarded the transport were wearing the familiar Coruscant Guard colors. You even recognized a few of the patterns and greeted them with a slight nod. You wouldn’t have minded being a little more exuberant, but not among your coworkers. It would be unwise to show too much emotion surrounded by mercenaries. 

“Everyone stand.” Grumbling. “Leave all weapons here. We will be interviewing each of you separately.” More grumbling, even as everyone started to reluctantly comply. 

The trooper issuing instructions was none other than the commander of the Coruscant Guard, Commander Fox. You could recognize him by his visored helmet easily enough, but there was something in his voice. What exactly made his tone was hard to pinpoint, but if pressed, you thought you could pick it out of a crowd. Even if that crowd were made up of other clone troopers. 

So you stood with the others, smoothly pulling your blasters and blades out from their usual places. The pile they made on your empty seat was respectable, the wear on the weapons a mark of your ability to use every one. With a last quick count to make sure none of the other mercenaries decided to take something that wasn’t theirs, you followed everyone to the link between your ship and the Guard’s. 

“Hope they’ll be less stupid about their weapons checks this time,” Yarrex muttered to you. The Kiffar was impatient at the best of times, but she knew her stuff better than most. “Last time, they misaligned the power pack on my rifle. If I hadn’t checked, it would have taken all of us out.”

You nodded fervently, remember how close a call that had been. Yarrex’s rifle had been actively overheating by the time she returned to the transport ship and she had hissed loud curses the whole time she fixed it. You couldn’t blame her - the smell from the flesh of her fingertips burning had lingered in the ship for days. 

There was a Coruscant Guard trooper just inside the larger ship, ushering you to your ultimate destination. “This way, down the hall-”

“-And to the right,” you finished. “I know, I know.”

“Been here a few times?” Yarrax asked over her shoulder. 

You shrugged, glad there was no one else behind you. What you were about to say could easily turn into tales of bad luck, and eventually spiral into you not being hired onto as many jobs. “Every single time I come back to Coruscant.”

“That’s not fair,” one of the trooper protested. 

You aimed a dry look in his direction. “We both know it is, Chase.” 

“I didn’t know they had names,” Kann remarked as he was led to one of the interrogation rooms. 

Yarrax hissed disapprovingly at his back. The trooper stammered, “I- I’m not Chase.”

“Save it,” Skoh advised with a nod in your direction. “That one can smell lies.”

Chase glanced at you, clearly nervous even through the protective cover of his helmet. You gave him a broad smile and went to sit down. 

Chase and the trooper who had directed you to the interrogation area were watching the room. The unfamiliar one had a medic’s cross on one shoulder and you wondered idly whether the Guard was expecting trouble. 

They shouldn’t, honestly. The standard Coruscant Guard procedure was to pull everyone into individual rooms to ask questions about the most recent mission. The Lament had some latitude in the way they conducted business, but everyone made a point of being as vague as possible in their answers. It was an entertaining game you all played when you came back to Coruscant. 

Though, apparently, no one played it as often as you. 

There were two interrogation rooms being used at the moment. The ship had at least a few more, but Lament missions were made up of ten mercenaries by rule - no more, no less. With Kann and another mercenary in the interrogation rooms, there apparently weren’t enough of you to warrant using more rooms. 

Mercenaries weren’t the most lively and talkative bunch, especially not after a long mission. A few of them shut their eyes to catch a few moments of sleep. The lone Nautolan in the Lament, a female named Veng, worked on repairing a tear she had gotten in the shoulder of her shirt. The needle flashing in and out of the ripped halves was mesmerizing, but your attention was caught by Skoh. 

Your leader was watching the room, gaze intent as he studied the mercenaries and the troopers watching you. There was no real tension in him, not even the kind disguised by the specific relaxation he took on when a negotiation was leading toward violence. But he was awake and alert, so you decided that you should be, too. 

Not that there was any reason to, of course. Skoh and Yarrix were the next to disappear into interview rooms as the first two went back to the transport ship. You weren’t among the next two to be called, or the ones after that. When it was only you and Veng left on the Guard ship, the door opened for Khyr to step out. Commander Fox stood in the doorway, sternly announcing that you were next. 

Veng didn’t glance up to see the amused look you gave her, but that was fine. It hadn’t really been for her, anyway. The commander stepped aside for you to enter the interrogation room, then closed the door before following you to the table. 

“Commander Fox,” you greeted with a nod. “How are you? How’s the wife?” 

The commander removed his helmet, all the better for you to see the confusion and exasperation mingling on his handsome face. “The wife.” 

“Or husband,” you amended. “Or partner. Non-specific.”

“I don’t have any of those,” he told you. “Did you get hit on the head during this massacre?”

You rolled your eyes at him, the way you always did when he disparaged your line of work. “Not a massacre. Not this time, at least. We do things other than kill people, you know.” 

“Yeah? What was the objective on this mission?” 

It just so happened that the mission you were returning from had been far more violent than expected, so you stepped neatly around the question. “Anyway, the point is that I see you so often, I feel like I should get to know something about your life. With anyone else, I would know about their partner or children or pets or hobbies. I see you more often than my parents.” 

“That so?” Fox asked, tilting his head to deliver his skeptical expression to best effect.

“Not in the slightest,” you admitted easily. “But it has come to my attention that not every Lament mission gets investigated by the Guard when they return to Coruscant.” 

Fox stiffened slightly. “We do our best to stop every transport, but our team is spread thin…”

“I’m not doubting your work, Commander,” you assured, “just your selection methods. Why is it that my team is always the one to be stopped?” 

“Coincidence.” 

Now, it was your turn to be skeptical. “You’ll have to do better than that, Fox.” 

His eyes widened briefly and you wondered if you had offended him by dropping his title, but he recovered in the next instant. “Are you suggesting that we should be suspicious of you?” 

“No, but you are,” you countered. “Otherwise, why would you always be focused on my missions?” 

“I told you: we aren’t.” 

Despite the way Fox’s teeth were gritted, you pushed on. You had a trump card, and you intended to play it: “Then why are you here? You, specifically? The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, investigating a transport full of mercenaries? You have better things to be doing than this. It’s suspicious.”

“I’ve told you, it’s a coincidence.” Fox sounded overly stubborn, even for him. 

You lifted your hands innocently in front of yourself and leaned backward in your chair. “Fine, fine. Total coincidence. Your complete lack of supporting evidence or further arguments has convinced me. Proceed with your interrogation, Commander.” 

He scowled intensely at you, but sat in the chair across from yours and started with the typical round of questions. Name, address, interplanetary work-travel permit number, employer, job title.

When you had answered them all successfully, Fox set his datapad down on the table between you. “Now, tell me about the mission you completed just prior to coming back to Coruscant.” 

“We were on Raydonia,” you answered easily. “We were hired to protect a village.” 

Fox gestured for you to continue when you stopped. “And what were you protecting them from?” 

“They were hit by two unknowns a few weeks ago.” The explanation was a little shaky, but it was the only one you had been given. It was still more than you usually got for a job and you were fine with that, but Fox seemed determined to think you were untrustworthy. “They took some of the most powerful warriors in the village. The village elders were worried some of the surrounding people might take the chance to attack them. They were right.” 

“Were there any casualties?” Fox asked, carefully not looking at you. 

You smiled despite yourself. “No Republic citizens were harmed.”

It was a vague and a polite way of reminding him that he had no jurisdiction over things that happened outside of Republic-controlled planets. Technically speaking, Fox had no jurisdiction over things that happened outside of Coruscant, but you wouldn’t bet on that stopping him. 

“And among your team?” he asked. “No injuries or deaths?”

“Nothing major,” you told him with a shrug. “You can count. I’m sure you noticed all ten of us are here and accounted for.” 

“What about minor injuries?” he pressed. 

You knew better than to shift in your chair, or look away from the easy eye contact you had maintained up to that point. Fox was an expert, and a sharp one at that. The smallest possible tell and he would know everything there was to know. That was what made him dangerous.

“None to speak of.” 

Even your flawless delivery left him looking distinctly skeptical. “Then why are you limping?” 

Despite the surge of frustrated exasperation that rose in you, your lips curved into a smile. “You’re too observant for your own good, Commander.” 

“Which isn’t an answer.” 

That made you chuckle aloud. “No, it wasn’t. But since you’re so insistent on an explanation, I sustained a minor injury on the mission. I treated it promptly and it is well on its way to healing.”

“How were you injured?”

Dimly, you wondered if Fox realized that he had leaned forward slightly under the weight of his own intensity. But only dimly, because most of your attention was drawn to the way he was even more handsome from a shorter distance away. 

“Why?” 

Fox blinked, and it seemed to break the spell he had put himself under. An instant later, he was scowling again - a fairly regular expression for him during these stops. “Because I’m the Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard and I asked you a direct question.” 

“I don’t answer to you,” you reminded him, privately savoring the look of profound irritation blossoming on his face. “Not about missions that take place in independent systems. Even if they result in injuries.”

“Maybe I have cause to believe that you sustained that injury in Republic territory,” Fox proposed. “Maybe I need proof you aren’t lying to me.” 

For a mercenary, you were even-tempered. Remarkably so, in fact. It helped you get along with your more volatile coworkers. But you did have a temper, and when it sparked, you were far from subtle. 

The slam of the chair’s front legs reconnecting with the floor was loud. Fox didn’t jump - he had too much control over himself for that - but his eyes darted to yours in a way that made his surprise evident. Your hands connecting with the top of the table between you was loud, too, the sound specifically and purposefully sharp.

You leaned in toward Fox and the expression on your face was unpleasant enough that he looked concerned. “I like you, Fox. I think you’re a good man doing your best in the galaxy’s worst job. That’s why I’m gonna give you this one warning: I do not appreciate being called a liar.”

“I didn’t-” 

Your gaze was hard as you stared him in the eyes. Fox looked startled as well as concerned by that point. He had never seen you truly pissed before. 

“Yes, you did,” you said firmly. “I will be the first to admit that I exaggerate. I dramatize. I embellish for comedic effect. But I do not lie. I have never lied to you or any of your men, despite what is verging on harassment. I do not intend to lie in the future, and I don’t want to file a harassment charge, but all of that depends on you.”

It was honestly a shock when Fox didn’t take advantage of your pause to speak. It told you that he understood how deadly serious you were. With his attention sharp on you, you told him, “I’m a reasonable person. I am willing to overlook this misstep… once. And that offer is entirely dependent on what you say next.”

“I’m sorry,” Fox said, honesty ringing in the simple words. You waited for more and he obliged: “You’re right, you have never lied to me - to any of us. Not about anything big. It was unfair of me to accuse you of it.” 

“And why did you?” you asked. 

The question felt a little like twisting a blade in an injury, but you needed to know. You needed to know that it wasn’t going to happen again, and if it did, you needed to know enough to anticipate it. Because you had grown to respect Commander Fox, damn it, and it had hit surprisingly hard to have him misjudge your morals so dramatically. 

“I… don’t like the idea of you being injured,” Fox admitted, sounding mystified. You understood, since that explanation left you feeling a little mystified yourself. “I would like to know about your injury if you’ll agree to tell me.”

You watched the commander for another long moment, doing your best to gauge his sincerity. It wasn’t easy - especially since it required you to look past those lovely eyes and flawless bone structure - but you managed. It was one of your most reliable skills, after all. Fox seemed to be telling you the truth.

When you leaned your chair backward again, the tension in the room shattered. You sent him a cryptic half-smile. “You know us mercenaries,” you drawled. “We don’t give away anything for free. You ask your question and I’ll ask mine. A truthful answer for a truthful answer.”

Fox considered it for only a moment before he nodded. “How did you get injured?”

“One of the attacking villagers had better aim than I expected,” you said, smiling wryly. “After I pulled his vibroblade from my calf, I changed my previous opinion.”

“Do you have a bacta patch on it?” Fox asked. “If not, I can get you a fresh one before you go back to your transport.” 

“I already have one, thanks,” you assured him. “And I’m feeling generous, so I’m going to point out the fact that I let you ask two questions. Now it’s my turn.” 

Luckily for Fox, you really were in a good mood again. You only let him dangle in his discomfort for a few moments before you asked your question. “Do you always stop my transport on purpose?” 

“Yes.” 

For all that you had suspected that answer, hearing it directly was shocking. 

Instead of responding immediately, you paused for a moment to take a breath. If Fox was targeting you specifically, you had to believe there was a reason. And since you had already come this far, you may as well find out what that reason was. “Why?”

Fox looked reluctant and faintly uncomfortable. It was the look you imagined most of the troopers got when they were asked to do an unpleasant chore. But, to Fox’s credit, he gave the answer he had promised. 

“You’re not the typical mercenary.” You frowned, already opening your mouth, but he quickly went on. “Not that you don’t have your skills, but I’ve been keeping a close eye on the missions you’re a part of. That is, the Coruscant Guard has. There is a concern among the men that the Lament would leave you behind on a mission or allow an injury to go untreated.”

Well, it was an explanation, but you felt like it left you with more questions than answers. “Nice to know you guys worry about me, but I still don’t understand why you care.”

Fox shrugged, but the casual gesture was belied by the way his eyes were locked with yours. “You look at us like we’re human.” 

You frowned again. 

“And I… admire you,” Fox added quietly. “You have a code and you follow it. Unusual, especially for a mercenary.” 

“Again with the insults about my work.” Despite your heavy sigh, your tone was playful, and you knew he would take it as the tease that it was. “I look forward to seeing you too, Fox. That’s why I haven’t complained about being stopped every time we come back to Coruscant.”

He gave you a disbelieving look and you laughed. “Okay, fine. That’s why I don’t complain too much.”

Fox didn’t immediately reply. Normally, the two of you traded barbs and witty remarks back and forth so quickly that it would make an onlooker’s head spin. But you didn’t feel the need to say anything further and, apparently, neither did he. The room filled with a surprisingly comfortable silence, warm and cozy in a way that durasteel interrogation rooms rarely managed.  

“So you’ve decided against filing harassment charges?” Fox asked at length. 

“I have no intention of it,” you told him. “We made a deal. Guess that’s more evidence of my rare and admirable moral code…”

Fox rolled his eyes and you laughed. Before he could say something sarcastic, you added, “Besides, I think I would miss seeing you guys if you stopped checking up when I return from missions.”

“You would miss us?” You would have accused Fox of fishing for a compliment if he hadn’t sounded so charmingly stunned. 

“Of course,” you told him, narrowly stopping yourself from winking at him. He really was a very attractive man. “But I need to get back to the transport now. They wouldn’t leave without me, but one of the others might get a little grabby with the weapons I left behind. Especially since I have a sharp new vibroblade.”

Fox stood when you did, leading the way to the door with a suspicious look on his face. “This isn’t the vibroblade that…” He finished the question only with a vague gesture toward your injured leg.

“If someone stabs me with a knife, I get to keep it,” you told him seriously. “I believe that is common courtesy.”

“No new weapons on this next mission, then,” Fox said as he stood aside to let you pass. “No risks, no injuries, no killing.”

You shook your head in exasperation, already starting down the hall back to the Lament’s transport. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what being a mercenary is, Commander.”

---

Author's Note - Happy Fox day! I knew I wanted to write something for 10/10, and big thanks to @nowait-whathappened for giving me this prompt! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!

You can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here. As always, I'm happy to remove you from the taglist if it's no longer in your interests.

Taglist: @rexs-wife @sugarpuffsstuff @stargazingthenightaway @just-some-girl-92 @kimageddon @ladysongmaster @carodealmeida @adriiibell @boomtowngirl @bitchylittleredhead @blck-omen @lackofhonor @captxin-rex @literallydontlook @salaminus @lucyhelena @808tsuika @ladykatakuri @bikerlorian @torchbearerkyle @frietiemeloen @tsedeshgishnii @buddee @justanothersadperson93 @leotatombs @mavendeb @rain-on-kamino @itsagrimm @captain-splock-you @dancingwiththeplanets @hummellchen @theclonesdeservebetter @cyarinka @ladyemxo @maulslittlemeowmeow @rosmariner @staycalmandhugaclone @coruscanticoffee @crookedwiings @eyecandyeoz @fordo-kixed-rex @musigrusi @lucyysthings @dinsverdika @bombshe77 @cawyden

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #commander fox #coruscant guard #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #fox x reader #fox x you #gn!reader #no use of y/n #fox day #cc 1010 #fic prompt #ink's fics

[coffeeandbatboys]

Hold me close Mesh'la (Commander Fox x Fem!Reader)

A/N I just really wanted to write a little something about making out but not something dirty. So here y'all are.

Warnings: an argument, make up and make out, Fox being insanely clingy. Mention of Fives' death and pretty angsty. Fox tries turning grief into love as a coping mechanism.

"Mesh'la" Fox groaned, spinning your chair around and caging you in with his hands on both armrests.

Anger welled inside your chest. "Fox, for the last time, I'm kriffing busy can't you see?! I will come to bed when I'm done."

"You don't have any idea what I'm going through right now and I need help."

In any other mindset, you would have immediately switched gears and asked what was wrong, but you had a report to write and it was your top priority at the moment. Shoving him away, you grabbed your datapad and without saying a word, slammed the apartment door behind you. Deciding that the best place to work would be the caf shop down the street, you marched in that direction, angry thoughts buzzing in your head.

It was only after you'd written the last line of your report that you realized what he'd actually said.

"You don't have any idea what I'm going through right now and I need help.

Kriff. You hadn't even given him a chance to explain why he was so distraught when you'd gotten home. Were you really that focused on work that you'd neglected the love of your life's mental wellbeing?

You grabbed an extra cup of caf and rushed home as fast as you could, heart pounding in anticipation as the lift ascended into the tower.

"Fox, love?"

You found him in bed facing the wall. Little shivers told you he was crying, but knowing that you were standing right there, he tried to hide it.

You lowered your voice to a gentle whisper as you climbed in bed with him. "Kriff, Fox I'm so sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

It was silent for a moment and the shivers stopped, but then his whole body shuddered as he let out a breath.

"I killed him. I didn't mean to. I swear it was set to stun but..."

Well that was certainly not the answer you were expecting.

"Killed who?" You asked hesitantly, not sure if you wanted to know.

"Fives."

Your heart sank. You'd heard about the ARC trooper that Rex had taken into the 501st. He seemed like a nice guy from what you'd been told.

Forgoing judgment, you wrapped your arms around Fox.

"Do you want to talk?"

Shook his head before turning to face you. "Can...I try something?"

You tilted your head to survey his face in the dim light of the bedroom. It looked almost pleading, and you nodded.

He got up on his hands and knees over you, caging you in once again, before lowering himself to kiss you. His chest pressed against yours, his lips perfectly slotted on your mouth.

Maker, your racing heart could be a side effect of the late night caf coursing through your veins. Or it could be something entirely different.

You reached up and threaded your fingers into his soft hair, pulling ever so slightly at the graying strands. A groan resounded through his chest and echoed on your lips. He pulled away to take a breath and whisper 'I love you' before descending to catch your lips again. You tasted the salty tears that had fallen on his own mouth as they mixed with the sweet caf you'd had before.

In a fluid motion he grabbed your waist and rolled over so that you were perched against his chest, never once breaking the kiss. You had to admit, he was a pretty damn good loverboy.

Finally you pulled away to cradle his face in your hands.

"M' sorry I got angry with you. I was really out of place. And I'm sorry you're going through this. You shouldn't have to do it alone."

He closed his eyes to keep more tears from falling.

"Just hold me close Mesh'la. I'll be okay."

#star wars #marshall commander fox #commander fox x reader #Fox x reader #commander fox #Star wars x reader #clones x reader #The clone wars #Fives #arc trooper fives #Marshall commander fox x reader #Fox x fem!reader #Commander fox x fem!reader

[523rdrebel]

First Kiss with Fox

Because apparently Tumblr decided to eat the original ask, here is my makeshift one.

@moonlightwarriorqueen asked: First kiss prompts 👀 I ask for Fox with " "Don't you dare tell anyone about this", "wasn't planning on it" " (if Fox doesn't jive...maybe Dogma?)

Thank you @moonlightwarriorqueen for the ask! I was supposed to be going to sleep by Fox decided that was the time to inspire this drabble. I hope you enjoy!

Commander Fox x Reader - only descriptor given is that Reader has hair.

Rating: T, SFW

Warnings: None, If I missed any, please let me know.

Fox sat, leaned against the corner of your desk with two fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the pressure of a building headache, "Are you quite finished?" He practically growled.

You had been in the middle of a long and heated argument, not an unfamiliar occurrence between the two of you. You were pacing, the heels of your boots providing a staccato rhythm beneath your words, "-No I am not finished! You agreed to my position here, Fox and if you can't hold up your end of the bargain then your men will suffer for it. Or need I remind you that I fought –"

"Ugh enough!" He was standing at his full height now, "Can't you just keep your mouth shut for five kriffing seconds?"

Feeling indignant and petulant, you quickly shot back, "Why don't you come over here and make me?" His expression was unreadable, but you noticed an interesting darkening to his eyes, "I'm not afraid of you, Fox. I'm here to help, but I can't  do that if you fight me every step of the way!"

Frustrated, impressed, and perhaps a little amused, Fox ignores your familiar tirade and  quickly strides over to you. You release a startled squeak as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He silenced the question forming on your tongue, covering your mouth with his. Your body tenses briefly, until you feel his other hand cradle the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. You melt into his arms with a sigh, kissing him with an unexpected fervor.

You feel Fox chuckle against your lips before pulling away from the kiss but keeping a firm hold on you. "I think I win this argument…"

Your eyes go wide and you open your mouth, winding up for more heated discussion. Once again his lips silence yours, but this time, they gently caressing your lips, teasing and promising.

He pulls away, this time releasing you fully and approaches the door, though not before grabbing the stack of flimsy from your desk that had been the subject of your argument. "Don't you dare tell anyone about this." He commanded, fixing you with a hard stare.

Lifting your chin up, you meet his stare with the same commanding ferocity, "Wasn't planning on it."He gives a short nod of acknowledgement and leaves the room. You remain, head spinning with frustration, excitement, and heated attraction. Oh kriff.

Ye Olde Taglist:

@anxiouspineapple9999 @wings-and-beskareskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69 @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @followthepurrgil @yubnubhubb @nahoney22 @jediknightjana @dangraccoon @wizardofrozz @freesia-writes

#first kiss prompts #first kiss #First Kiss with Fox #Commander Fox #Fox x Reader #Commander Fox x Reader #star wars fanfiction #RebelWrites #SFW #x Reader

[anxiouspineapple99]

Queen of Hearts

Vampire!Fox x Fem!Reader

Summary: On your way home from work one early morning, you catch Fox drinking a man's blood in a back alley, and it changes your life forever.

Pairing: Vampire!Fox x Fem!Reader

Characters: Fox, Thorn, clone OCs

Tags & Warnings: 18+, NSFW, MonsterClone!AU, clone discrimination, clone rights, minor injuries, violence, murder, blood, angst, domestic fluff, mild sexual themes, non-sexual intimacy, erotic blood drinking, enemies to friends to lovers, reader can be considered demisexual, stalking

Word Count: 14.5k

Author's Note: This fic is dedicated to my beloved @starrrgazingbunny! She gave me the clone, the monster, and the prompt, which inspired this monstrosity of a fic. Haha, get it? Monstrosity? Monster? I'm hilarious. Anyway, I love you darling and I hope you like the fic 😘 As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: "Your eyes sparkle."

MonsterClone!AU Prompt: "I know what you did."

Fox’s boots rhythmically clack against the sterile tile floor of the GAR clinic as he strolls through the bright halls with his hands clasped neatly behind his back. It’s late, and he was sorting through an endless stack of data-pads when he received the comm that one of his Corrie Guards was injured on duty and undergoing medical treatment at the clinic. After the comm, he tossed his data-pad to the side and downed the rest of his cold caf before making his way to the clinic.

Fox hates receiving these comms because it’s always the same story. The natborns, who he swears are born with only one brain cell each, are cruel to his corries. Their apathetic dismissal of a clone's mere existence boils his blood. The clones never asked to be created and they surely never expected to be used, abused, and thrown out with the evening’s trash. They are flesh and blood men, his men, and he considers each one of their lives as his responsibility.

Fox lets his frustrating thoughts dissipate when he stops in front of the exam room door. The medic on duty, whose fingers are rapidly tapping on a data-pad medical chart, deviates from his rounds when he sees Fox with his arms crossed. Fox stays silent as he approaches, so the medic continues his data entry as he waits. Fox glances through the window of the door to get a small glimpse at the situation, then turns to address the medic. “What happened?”

The medic looks up from his data-pad and frowns. “He was breaking up a street fight on the lower levels when a natborn busted his nose and broke his arm.” The medic shakes his head. “Poor kid. It was his first night on patrol too.”

Fox sighs, thanks the medic, and dismisses him with a silent nod.

As the medic leaves, Fox opens the door and quietly slips into the exam room, hoping to go unnoticed. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he observes another medic carefully tending to the corrie’s injuries. Fox slumps his shoulders and releases a heavy sigh as he assesses the bruises on the clone’s face. This is the fifth corrie he’s gone through this week and the trend is only getting worse. It’s mind-numbing to him, just how cruel the natborns are.

After watching for a few more seconds, Fox pushes himself off of the wall. He pulls his bucket off and sets it down on the counter, his loose curls cascading down to just above his eyes. He walks over to the exam table, taps the medic on the shoulder, and asks him to take a break. The medic nods and hands Fox the bandages and adhesive before exiting the room. Fox flicks his hair to the side and away from his eyes as he takes a seat on the stool in front of the injured clone.

“C-Commander,” the corrie stammers in surprise while scrambling to stand to attention.

Fox reaches up and places two firm hands on the clone’s shoulders to gently push him back down onto the exam table. “At ease, vod,” his voice soothes. “No need to get up. You’re hurt.”

“Y-Yes sir,” the corrie says, nervousness escaping his voice. It’s not every day a shiny gets a visit from their commander, let alone have them bandage their wounds.

Fox lets a small smile creep onto his lips. He always finds it endearing the way the shinies act around him. They think he’s some sort of celebrity being the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard, but in reality, he’s just an overworked, sleep-deprived, and overly-caffeinated bag of meat. There’s nothing about his existence that makes him feel worthy of their praise, at least, not when his men sit in the clinic wounded while he sits behind a desk doing data-work.

“What’s your name, kid?” Fox asks, his fingers working deftly to continue wrapping the bandage where the medic left off.

“Slapstick, sir,” the corrie says.

Fox chuckles at the name and tightens the side of the bandage.

Slapstick winces at the pain. “Apparently, I’m good at comedy, sir,” he jokes.

Fox grins. “You’ll have to tell me a joke when you’re better.”

“Will do, sir,” Slapstick smiles.

Fox makes quick work of wrapping the broken arm and gently gives it back. He grabs a cloth sling and fits it over Slapstick’s shoulder, making sure the elevation is correct for his arm to rest comfortably. Fox then grabs a few cotton pads and dabs them with alcohol to clean the blood off the corrie’s face and applies a bandage across his nose. When finished, Fox sits back in the chair and watches as Slapstick nurses his broken arm, a flash of emotion crossing his bruised face.

Fox frowns, rises from the chair, and places a firm hand on the younger clone’s shoulder. He peers into the shiny’s innocent, yet fearful eyes, and silently reassures him. “Do what the medics tell you, and you’ll be fine. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Slapstick nods. “Thank you, Commander.”

Fox smiles with sad eyes. “You’re welcome, kih’vod.”

Fox turns away, grabs his bucket off the counter, replaces it on his head, and then exits the exam room. He softly shuts the door behind him and stands in the hallway for a moment to compose himself. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly to release the tension built up in his shoulders. They’re so young. He laments. The new shinies come in looking so full of life and eager to please their superiors. It catches him off guard every time he sees one of their youthful faces.

Being part of one of the earliest batches of clones, Fox feels old. The gray streaks running through the sides of his dark curly hair only serve to prove it. It’s ironic to him since his batchmates haven’t grayed yet, so it must be the stress. He and the shinies are only a few years apart in manufacture date, but the accelerated aging makes him feel as if he’s lived a lifetime. He wishes he could relive the days when he was a shiny. Back then, they didn’t even have names.

Fox still remembers being a fresh young clone and ready to serve the Republic. He was created as part of a batch of commanders bred to be leaders, with superior intelligence and bolstered strength. Little did he know what true horrors he and those under his command would endure. The constant ridicule by every lifeform walking the streets of Coruscant, the discrimination and litany of ‘no clones allowed’ signs on business storefronts, and the lack of human decency was, and still is, repulsive.

He didn’t ask for this post, one so far from the war. Yet, here he is, visiting the broken men under his command and taking every bit of their suffering personally. Each one who is spat on, belittled, cursed at, and dehumanized weighs deeply on his soul. At least on the battlefield they’d receive the respect they deserve. At one point, Wolffe warned him of being overly attached to his men, and Fox knew Wolffe had every right to speak about loss, but he still didn’t listen.

He internalizes all of their pain and lets it steep deep within him. His anger for the natborns burns white hot in the pit of his stomach. He decided long ago that there’s nothing good about a natborn. They’re all useless beings that sit on pious ideals and build their peace on the dead bodies of his brothers, stacking them like cheap bricks and using their blood as mortar. But now, he’s done letting the atrocities slide. He’s done watching his brothers suffer at their hands.

Fox straightens himself as his resolve settles within him. Purpose driven, he marches back to headquarters. He doesn’t bother turning the lights on in his dark office, the blue glow from his data-pad illuminates his face as he sifts through the new reports to find the one about Slapstick. He pulls up a holo-recording of the events and watches it with intent. He notes the location, and when he sees the natborn’s face, he tosses the data-pad onto his desk and leaves his office.

He knows what he needs to do, and he’s finally ready to act on his intentions. The guilt that has crept into him, knowing that he could have done something sooner, only propels him forward in his mission. As he nears the exit of the headquarters’ building, Thorn is waiting for him. Fox curses under his breath. He knows Thorn will try to stop him, try to talk some sense into him, but he doesn’t care. He’s done playing around, and if he has to go through his brother, he will.

Thorn crosses into Fox’s path and folds his arms. "And where are you going?"

"Out,” Fox answers as he steps to the side to go around him.

Thorn follows his movements, preventing him from advancing. "What? You've got a hot date or something?"

"Something like that," Fox mutters, trying to side-step him again.

"I know what you’re gonna do," Thorn says, blocking his brother again. “I can smell it. The lust.”

Fox grunts in frustration and forcefully pushes past his brother. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Thorn turns and catches Fox’s arm, his grip tight. "Whatever you think you're going to accomplish out there is only going to come back to bite you,” he warns. “You're gonna get caught!"

Fox smirks under his helmet. "Not if I bite first."

A small gasp escapes Thorn’s throat. He didn’t want to be right. He knew Fox was up to something malicious when he first caught a whiff of his altered scent, a shift so strong he could smell it from two klicks away. He refused to believe that his brother would go this far and intentionally put all of the commanders at risk by going rogue, but he was wrong. Fox is going through with it. In his brief shock, Thorn’s grip slacks enough for Fox to yank his arm out.

Fox, finally free of his brother’s blockade attempt, stalks off into the night to find his prey.

“Fox!” Thorn calls, desperate to get him to reconsider, but Fox doesn’t respond, and Thorn, powerless to stop him, watches as he slips into the shadows of Coruscant.

You let out an exhausted sigh as you finish up your shift at the diner. It’s been a long night, and you glance at the chronometer on the wall while stretching out your back. It’s 02:00 hours and almost time for you to go home. You don’t mind working the second shift, in fact, you enjoy being a night owl and sleeping during the day. The initial adjustment to your schedule was difficult, but now that you have a routine set, your body works just as well as it did in the daylight.

After bringing the remainder of the plates to the kitchen, you grab a to-go container and pile all of the leftover scraps into it, then pour what’s left from the caf carafe into a to-go cup. Your manager is a good person, and she lets you take food home at the end of your shift for dinner. It isn’t much, just what customers didn’t finish, but you’re always grateful. Once you have all of your things gathered and your leftover dinner, you wave goodbye to the rest of the staff and leave.

As you walk along the diner front, you frown at the bright circular neon sign. It has an image of a clone’s helmet in the center and a large red slash running through it. You don’t understand what people have against the clones because they seem human enough to you. Sometimes it bothers you to be working in such a discriminatory business, but you don’t have much of a choice. Most places of business are anti-clone, and it’s hard getting a job with one that’s clone-friendly.

You sigh, and continue along the darkly lit street towards home. As you approach the next alleyway, you see two Coruscant Guardsmen leaning against the wall. You smile and wave at them and they eagerly wave back. One of the perks of working the second shift at the diner is that you get the pleasure of running into your two favorite Corrie Guards, Traipse and Chris, on their patrol route. They’re wonderful friends, with big hearts, and even bigger stomachs.

“Watcha got for us today, mesh’la?” Traipse asks as he slips his bucket off.

“The usual,” you smile and hand the to-go container to him. “A couple half-eaten sandwiches and some cold fries, but this time there’s a little ketchup stuck to them.”

“Sweet!” Chris rips his bucket off as he eyes the food in the container, practically salivating at the prospect of cold, soggy fries.

It breaks your heart to see them so excited over scraps from another patrons table, but you know that anything you give them is better than what the GAR feeds them. It’s the least you can do for them, and they truly appreciate the meal. You still remember the first day you met them when you began working at the diner. They were new and on patrol when they stopped in for a hot cup of caf, which was a big mistake. The owner was livid, cursed at them, and almost shot them.

The scene that unfolded in front of you was just as frightening as it was disturbing. The two corries only wanted a cup of caf to keep them awake during their patrol, and they were nearly killed over it. That was the night your heart broke and truly softened for the clones. You felt so bad for them that at the end of your shift, you scraped together all the leftover food and caf you could get a hold of, and searched the streets looking for them. You’ve been friends ever since.

“And,” you sing while holding up the to-go cup, “some caf to wash it down.”

Their eyes light up like it’s Christmas. “No way! You got us caf too?”

You laugh and hand the cup to Chris. “It’s not very hot, and it's a bit stale, but it should be enough for the both of you to share.”

Chris takes the first sip of the lukewarm, slightly stale caf, and you can see the tension slip from his shoulders. It’s like he’s tasting caf for the very first time, and it’s not even good caf. You smile, but on the inside, you’re hurting. All of the caf shops on their patrol route are anti-clone, so they can’t stop for a simple cup of caf or even grab something to eat. They have to wait until their patrol is over and return back to the GAR headquarters. You wish you could do more.

“Thank you, mesh’la,” Traipse says, then gives you a big hug. “You’re so good to us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you smile as you squeeze him back. “You know, someday I’m going to open my own diner, just for clones.”

Chris grins. “We’ll be your first customers!”

You laugh at his exuberance, and tap your foot on the ground. “I wish I could stay and chat, but I really need to get home.”

Chris hands the cup of caf to Traipse who takes a small sip. “You want us to escort you home?”

“Nah,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I’ll be fine. I walk this route every night, you know.”

“Be safe, okay?” Traipse says. “And if you need us, you know where to find us.”

“Thanks boys,” you give them each a farewell hug and set out towards home, turning around to wave goodbye one more time.

You really did want to stay and chat with your friends like you do every night, but this particular shift was exhausting and now you only want to sleep. You barely had any breaks in between your tables being filled and emptied, so your feet ache painfully. Just the distance to walk home is enough to make you want to scream in agony. You didn’t want to tell your friends that your feet hurt, because you know that one of them, if not both, would have tried to carry you home.

It’s not that you wouldn’t mind being carried home by a big, strong, and handsome clone, but they have a job to do. They're on patrol, and you’re already putting them into jeopardy by chatting away with them when they’re supposed to be walking about the streets of Coruscant. They’re allowed to take breaks, but to have them deviate from their course so severely just to take you home because your feet hurt, is way too big of an ask. It would not be right..

As you continue to walk the dark streets, illuminated only by neon signs, your thoughts are interrupted by a noise coming from one of the side alleys. It almost sounds like a scuffle. They say curiosity killed the tooka, but it hasn’t killed you yet. So, you cautiously peer down the alley and see two men standing by the wall. One looks like a clone, but you can’t tell what color his armor is, and the other man looks wasted. You tip-toe closer and crouch behind a crate to get a better listen.

“I know what you did,” Fox says as he backs the drunken man against the wall.

“Get lost clone,” the man slurs.

"You hurt my kih’vod," Fox says.

"Your what?" the man asks, clearly confused with the term.

"My kih’vod," Fox repeats. "You broke his arm, and for what? Fun?"

The man pauses as he tries to understand what the clone is talking about through his drunken haze. Once it finally registers, the man sneers and becomes angry. "He deserved it!" the man yells. "All of them! They're all freaks of nature!"

"Freaks of nature?" Fox mocks and cocks his head to the side, feigning confusion at the accusation. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Disgusting meat droids," the man scoffs.

Fox chuckles darkly and gets in the man’s face. "You don't understand anything."

"What’s that?" the man slurs.

Fox pulls his bucket off and whispers in the man’s ear. "I'm the freak of nature." He grabs the man by the throat and lifts him up against the wall.

"Let go!" the man yells as he struggles in Fox’s grasp.

"You're not in a place to bargain," Fox says, purposefully baring his fangs in a show of intimidation. The neon lights bounce off the fangs, making them glow bright, a stark contrast to the dark alley.

You startle at the sight of the fangs and your grip loosens on the side of the crate, causing you to fall into the alleyway, making a thud noise when you hit the ground. You scramble back to your hiding place behind the crate and clamp a hand over your mouth, hoping he didn’t hear or notice you. You close your eyes as your mind races a mile a minute, wondering just what in the stars you just saw.

Fox snaps his head to the side when he hears the sound and he catches a small glimpse of you scurrying behind the crate. Tucking that away to deal with later, he turns his attention back to his prey. “Looks like we have an audience,” Fox sighs. “I just hate it when guests show up uninvited to dinner, don’t you?”

The man wriggles helplessly in the Fox’s grasp, fear washing over him as he realizes the mistake he’s made.

"Confess your sins," Fox says.

"I… I'm sorry, please," the man pleads, tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, not to me," Fox explains. "I'm not your Maker."

The man whimpers, haphazardly kicking and fighting to get free, but he’s too weak under the influence of alcohol.

"I am your death," Fox sinks his fangs into the man's neck and sucks every last bit of blood out of his worthless body. Eventually, the man stops wriggling, and his body slumps in Fox’s grasp.

Fox grimaces at the bitter taste of the man’s blood, but it’d be a shame to waste it. He finally pulls away from the man’s neck, panting for breath, then spits the last bit of the bitter blood out of his mouth as he staggers back. The alcohol in the man’s blood begins to make him feel light-headed and woozy. He turns to where you’re hiding behind the crate and starts walking towards you. His bucket sways in his left hand, while his right hand drags the man’s limp body alongside him.

Fox stops in front of you and drops the lifeless body beside you. The man’s cold, dead eyes meet your live ones, and you feel sick to your stomach. You look up at the clone with wide eyes as fear and dread wash over you like a heavy blanket. You can see now that his armor is red, red like the Coruscant Guard and red like blood smeared on his face. Your breath quickens when you notice the elongated fangs made visible as he pants from his fresh kill.

“You’re a… a…” you stammer out as you slowly inch away from his looming presence.

“A vampire?” Fox finishes your sentence with a roll of his head, still feeling tipsy from the alcohol invading his system.

“That’s… impossible,” you say. You’re at a loss for words as your brain flips between fight, flight, and freeze. Sure, you’ve read the stories about vampires, but they were just stories, right? Vampires don’t exist in real life, do they? You’re not sure what to think, but you don’t have time to work through figuring out an answer. You dart your eyes to the left and to the right, looking desperately for an escape route.

Fox kneels down in front of you and grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “This is our little secret. Do you understand?”

You nod your head, too shocked to give a verbal response.

Fox searches your face for a moment, unsure of what he’s looking for, but eventually he releases you. “Run along little one,” he whispers, “or the fox might catch you.”

At his words, you scramble backwards, awkwardly trying to get up off the ground. He’s not coming after you, but the fear and adrenaline that’s raging inside your body tells you to run away. You get to your feet and you run. You run as fast as you can. You look back to make sure he’s not following you, and you see him, standing where he left you, watching you as you make your escape. You turn forward and continue running, ignoring the pain in your already tired feet.

You’re not sure which direction you're running in, just that it’s away from him. You wonder what he meant by ‘the fox’. Who is ‘the fox’? Is he a fox? No. He’s a vampire. Is his name Fox? You’re not sure of anything at the moment, and you decide to figure it out later. You keep up your stiff pace, dashing through the streets, turning down corners that look familiar until you come to an abrupt stop when you crash into Traipse. A small yelp escaping your lips as you fall backwards.

“Mesh’la?” Traipse asks in surprise.

Chris stoops down to pull you to your feet. “Are you alright? That was quite the hit.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Traipse adds as he looks you over to make sure you’re not hurt.

“I’m okay,” you pant.

Traipse and Chris trade bewildered glances and briefly look around to see what you might have been running from.

“What happened?” Chris asks. “We thought you went home.”

“I…” you want to tell them what happened. You want to tell them what you saw, but you quickly remember that you were sworn to secrecy, so instead, you feed them a lie. “I just got spooked. That’s all.”

Traipse doesn’t believe your explanation for one second. He narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you insist with a shaky breath, trying to sound convincing. You pause for a moment, then make a simple request, hoping that they’ll stop asking questions. “Would you walk me home now? Please?”

“Of course,” Traipse answers. He’s still not happy with the lack of explanation, but he doesn’t want to push it any further. “It would be our pleasure.”

The two corries walk on either side of you as you make the journey home. You feel a sense of safety with them at your side, so you try to let yourself relax a little. Many people fear or even hate the Coruscant Guard, but you’ve always enjoyed having them around. They make the lower levels more bearable and safe to live in, and your late nights aren’t so lonely. But now, can you really trust them? Are they really who you think they are? You’re not so sure anymore.

As you approach your apartment, you once again think about the corrie you encountered in the alley. You know that he’s a corrie based on the color of his armor, but you’ve never seen him around the lower levels before, or at least not on your route home. Perhaps he lives on the upper levels and comes down to the lower levels to feed. Your skin bristles at the thought. A vampire amongst the clones. A vampire amongst the Coruscant Guard. What if there are more?

You glance at your companions and briefly wonder if they’re vampires too. You quickly throw the idea out of your mind. If they were vampires, wouldn’t they have drank your blood by now? You shake your head to remove the swirling thoughts. The sun will be rising soon, and you just want to go to bed at this point. When you arrive home, you thank your two escorts as they leave you outside of your apartment, but they stay long enough to make sure you get inside safely, and for that you’re grateful.

Once inside, you lock your door and check every window to make sure they’re locked as well, and then pull the room darkening curtains across them. The fear that has crept inside of you from the words of the mysterious corrie in the alley has not left you. You shiver and slink down beside your bed, clutching your knees to your chest. You wonder if he’ll find you or if he’ll try to hurt you. You know not all clones are good, but you’ve always tried not to judge them on the outside.

As your adrenaline winds down, you decide to skip dinner, throw on your pajamas, and curl up under your duvet, covering your head with the thick material like a child afraid of the monsters under their bed. You keep a light on beside your bed, just in case, then slowly drift off to sleep as your exhaustion overrides your fear and forces you to sleep. Surprisingly, you sleep well, and are only awoken by your preset alarm at 17:00 hours, reminding you to get up for another day.

You barely remember the events of the night before in your waking haze, but as your senses return, the fear and anxiety creeps back in. You now wish you had asked Traipse and Chris to walk you to work as well. You know they would have if you asked. Sighing heavily, you take a quick shower, get dressed, and throw some food together for a hasty breakfast before heading out the door. Fortunately, your route to work is uneventful, which you’re thankful for.

Your day at work is the same as usual. With the hustle and bustle of the diner, you rarely have a moment to even think about the corrie in the alley. Between waiting tables, refilling caf, and chatting with the patrons, you almost forgot. However, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. The feeling that you're being observed. You don’t let it bother you too much, but you know it has to be him, watching your every move, making sure you don’t spill his secret.

At the end of your shift, you bring the remaining plates to the kitchen, gather up another to-go container of scraps and pour the last of the night's caf into a to-go cup for Traipse and Chris. You bid farewell to your co-workers and meet up with your two corrie friends by the next alley. They’re leaning against the wall, waiting for you to show up, but with stern looks on their faces. They must be worried about you. However, their demeanor perks up when they see you coming.

Across from the diner and in the shadows, Fox watches you. He keeps his distance, but he decided to keep an eye on you after the events of the previous morning. The words from Thorn rotate in his mind about getting caught and they churn in his stomach, because knows what will happen if the GAR finds out he’s a vampire, and he knows he put the rest of the commanders at risk. Which he mentally kicks himself for; the stubborn stupidity and lack of rational thinking.

Thus, he watches you, making sure you keep your mouth shut. He really doesn’t want to have to shut it for you, so he’s saving that drastic option for last. The keeping of his secret is vital to his entire batch’s survival. Only a few people outside of the commander batch know what happened during that unfortunate training mission, and that’s how he wants to keep it. It’s not safe for any of them. They’re not monsters and they’re not animals, but they aren’t normal.

It was a routine training mission for the batch of commanders. A get in, complete the objective, and then get out type of mission. Their Mandalorian instructor was a proud and harsh man, but he knew how to train strong leaders. However, something went wrong when they stumbled upon an unknown creature in the bowels of the world. An otherworldly looking being that struck fear in all of them, even their instructor. Every man on that training mission left that world changed.

They left that world infected. Each one gained a heightened sense of smell, sharper ears, and an unusual taste for human blood. They could hear heartbeats as people passed by and smell fear on their men. The change was difficult, being acutely aware of others around them, and they didn’t drink blood often. It wasn’t needed for survival, so why risk it. Most of them didn’t like talking about it either. So, their fangs remained hidden and their attraction to blood was stifled.

Fox snaps back from his memories when his eye catches the blinking neon sign affixed to the diner’s transparisteel front which bars his brethren from entering. He scowls at the offending sign and writes you off just like he does everyone else. A worthless natborn that can’t see past their own biased ideals. He huffs, thinking that maybe it would be worth the trouble to just get rid of you after your shift, but his better judgment, that he was missing last night, tells him not to.

He continues to watch you throughout your shift, unamused as you bustle around waiting tables, refilling caf, and pocketing tips. He finds you rather boring, actually, and continues to weigh your existence in his mind as to whether he wants to keep you alive or not. As you exit the diner at the end of your shift, he straightens his back and stretches. He quickly furrows his brows at the smile plastered on your face and wonders what you could possibly be smiling about.

Fox becomes curious about your odd happiness, so he follows you, maintaining his distance and keeping to the shadows where he can. Luckily, that isn’t a difficult thing to do in the lower levels. When he sees you approaching two Corrie Guards standing by an alley, he stiffens, worrying that you might harm his brothers. He watches intently as you get closer, his muscles tensing as he rolls the notion of ousting himself. He takes a single step forward, then stops.

Laughter. He hears laughter. His brothers are laughing with a natborn. They’re laughing with you. Fox’s mouth falls open in shock, and he takes a step backwards, caught completely off guard by what he’s seeing. He watches, dumbstruck, as you hand them the to-go container of food and the to-go cup of caf. To think that a natborn could be kind to a clone was unfathomable for Fox, but here you are, giving them food, giving them caf, and making them laugh.

The look of pure joy and happiness on their faces melts something deep within Fox. He can’t quite place the feeling, but it’s warm and soft and inviting. His anger and fear starts to crumble as his features soften. Could he be wrong about you? Is there such a thing as a good natborn? His skepticism and apprehension are replaced with intrigue and curiosity, and he decides that he needs to know more about you. So, he watches you more, but now because he wants to.

You fidget with your fingers and shift your weight between your two feet. “Hey, can I ask you guys a question?”

“Sure,” Traipse says as he tosses a few potato wedges in his mouth.

You hesitate for a second, piecing together the words carefully so that you don’t say too much, but you need to know the answer. “Is there a ‘fox’ in the Coruscant Guard?”

“Is there a ‘fox’?” Chris repeats with a slight laugh. “Yeah, there’s a Fox, but he’s not in the Coruscant Guard.”

“Oh…” you knit your brows together in confusion. You swear that the colors on that clone’s armor belong to the Corrie Guard.

Traipse chuckles at your confusion and needles Chris. “What this di’kut is trying to say is that Fox is the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard, so technically he’s not in it, he’s over it.”

Your mouth opens in shock. “Fox is a Commander?!”

“The Commander,” Chris corrects with a pointed finger.

Your brain continues to recalculate like a GPS that has lost its signal. You can’t believe that the corrie you ran into in that dark alley, the one that killed that man, the one that is a vampire, is also the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard. You feel sick. You’re not sure what question to ask next. You don’t want them catching on and you don’t want to release too much information, so you go with something simple. “Do you like Commander Fox?”

“Of course!” Traipse exclaims. “He’s the best!”

“He visits his men when they’re in the GAR clinic,” Chris adds. “Even the shinies get a visit from him. He really cares about us. Kinda like you do.”

“Oh,” you trail off, not sure what to say.

Traipse and Chris continue to gloat about their amazing commander, which confuses you even more. The image they paint of Fox is nothing like the man you saw in the alley last night. There’s no way they’re the same man. It’s not possible. The man they’re speaking of is kind, brave, and smart, but the man you saw in the alley was terrifying, violent, and spiteful. The two images clash inside your mind as you struggle to decide if they really are the same man.

“Why do you want to know about our Commander?” Chris interrupts your thoughts.

You stiffen and come up with something quick. “Oh, no reason,” you dismiss. “I just heard the name is all.” You hope that explanation is convincing enough for them, and you let out a little sigh of relief when they shrug and change the subject.

Fox continues to watch you from the shadows as you interact with the two corries. He becomes nervous when you bring him up in the conversation, because if you’re as smart as he thinks you are, you’ll figure out his identity. With that information, you could easily go to the nearest general and get him arrested, court-martialed, or worse, decommissioned. He listens intently to his men’s praise, but his shoulders finally relax when they change the subject to something else.

After that encounter, Fox decides to watch you more, fully intrigued by the way you treat clones. He still has some doubts, and wonders if it’s only for show or if you really do care. However, night after night, he watches you clean tables, pack scraps together, and leave the diner. Like clock-work, you meet up with your two Corrie Guard friends to offer them a half-eaten meal, talk about your day, and listen as they regale you with harrowing stories of their nightly patrols.

Slowly, Fox finds himself wanting to see you more. Every night he leaves his office, whether his work is finished or not, to come and watch you at the diner. The way you dance around the tables in your apron, smile at patrons as you refill their mugs, and the sound of your laugh have become a part of his routine. He doesn’t want to miss a single second of you. He watches you with every intention to reveal himself, but he knows he can’t. Not after what you saw him do.

While Fox is back at headquarters, Thorn catches him lost in thought while sitting at his desk, mindlessly twirling his stylus around his fingers as his stack of data-pads grow. Thorn leans against the door jam and folds his arms. “You look busy.”

Fox continues to twirl his stylus while staring blankly at Thorn, unamused by his sarcastic tone. “Yeah, I am. So, why don’t you leave me to it.”

Thorn huffs. “You’ve always been a bad liar, vod.”

Fox wonders if Thorn is getting suspicious of him, and his question is answered quickly.

“You gonna tell me where you keep sneak’en off to at night?” Thorn asks.

Fox stops twirling his stylus and lowers his eyes to scan the data-pad on his desk. “It’s none of your business.”

“It’s my business if you’re gett’en us all in trouble,” Thorn retorts.

“It’s not like that,” Fox says without looking up from his data-pad.

Thorn approaches Fox’s desk and places both hands down flat onto the surface. “Then why don’t you tell me what it is like?”

Fox looks up from his data-pad and meets Thorn’s eyes with a scrunch of his nose. He emphasizes his words and says them slowly. “It’s none of your business.”

Fox and Thorn stare at each other with intensity. Thorn trying to read Fox’s intentions and Fox trying to ward off Thorn’s intrusion. As Thorn continues to search Fox’s face, he picks up on a faint scent emanating from hum. Thorn’s mouth slowly opens into a toothy grin as a singular thought pops into his mind. Thorn laughs and shakes his head, straightening himself up and moving away from the desk. He drags a hand across his chin. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

Fox’s body tenses at Thorn’s acute awareness. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he dismisses, but his body betrays him. Heat slowly rises up his face and to the tips of his ears as his heartbeat quickens, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Thorn.

“You are!” Thorn exclaims with a knowing smile.

“I am not!” Fox retorts loudly, but then hushes himself to make sure no one hears. “I am not.”

“Don’t worry, vod, your secret is safe with me,” Thorn says playfully. “This is kinda unexpected though… I thought you hated natborns?”

Fox groans and leans back in his chair, running his hands down his face. “I do.”

Thorn throws him a devilish grin. “I guess not all of them.”

Fox leans forward and points his stylus at Thorn. “Get out.”

Thorn laughs and turns to leave Fox’s office, but not before giving him one more parting piece of brotherly advice. “Let me know if you need any date-night ideas.”

“Out!” Fox yells as he throws his stylus at his brother.

Once Thorn is out of sight, Fox plants his face onto his desk and groans. He never understood how Thorn could be so perceptive all of the time. He reads him like a book, but then again, he’s never been good at hiding his body’s reactions. Fox picks his head up from the desk and places it in his hands, fingers sliding through his mess of curls. He hates to admit it, but Thorn is right. He is in love, but he refuses to admit it because you’re a natborn. It goes against everything he knows.

It’s too late though, Fox can’t help himself from falling in love with you. He doesn’t get many glimpses of happiness in his life, but when he sees you. Maker, when he sees you smile, and your eyes sparkle, and you laugh, it’s enough happiness for him. He wants you to bring him table scraps and cold caf, to tell him about your day, and laugh with him. He wants to escort you home, to make sure you’re safe, and to be the reason that you smile, but he doesn’t know how.

Fox once again finds himself sitting in the shadows just outside of the diner and staring into the transparisteel window. He’s completely transfixed on you as you go about your shift. Something about your warm smile has captured his cold and calloused heart, and tonight is no different. He feels the urge again, the urge to confront you, to make himself known so he can get to know you. He kicks himself over and over for making you scared of him, but he wants to make it right.

He decides to approach you tonight, and steels himself to prepare, but as you open the door of the diner to leave, Fox catches a whiff of something intoxicatingly sweet. His heart skips a beat, his breath quickens, and his fangs become aroused at the scent. Even with his bucket on, it’s not enough to block out the decadent aroma. He pulls his bucket off and places a hand over his mouth and nose to try and stifle it, but it’s no use, the scent wafts around as you walk.

Through his growing arousal, Fox searches your body, looking for the source, and then he sees it. A bandage on your arm covering a cut. He tries to block the lustful thoughts out of his mind and remain focused, but Maker does he want a taste of you. His fangs throb out of need. The fragrance of your blood is like nothing he’s ever smelled before. Male blood is bitter and female blood is sweet, but your blood is overwhelmingly sweet. Sweeter than anything the universe could ever provide him.

Although he had plans to finally confront you tonight, he decides he needs to leave. The urge to drink your blood is too strong. If he made his move now, it would only frighten you, and that’s not what he wants to do. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him anymore. He doesn’t want you to look at him in fear like you did the night you met. He wants to make his intentions clear to you so there’s no mistake. He’ll show you that like your two corrie friends, he is also worthy of your affection.

It’s been three weeks since your terrifying encounter with Commander Fox, and you’ve finally put him and the ordeal out of your mind. You did what he asked and kept his secret, so there was no reason for him to come for you. However, you never quite lost the feeling of being watched, but you decided that it was just the paranoia getting the better of you. Besides, with Traipse and Chris walking you home every morning, you always felt safe.

Tonight is no different. You finish up your shift at the diner like usual, scrape together the best looking leftovers, and pour a to-go cup of the remaining stale caf. You clock out, say goodbye to your co-workers, and meet up with your corrie friends at the next alley over to give them their dinner. The look of excitement on their faces never fails to make you smile. It’s sad that something so simple, like table scraps and old caf, could make their night something special.

You chat with them about your day at work, and all the latest gossip from your co-workers, while they devour the diner food. A few well-timed jokes and laughs are exchanged, and when they’ve finished eating, they walk you home like they do every night since the scary incident. On the way, they fill you in on all of the juicy details of the Coruscant underworld. Some of it is so ridiculous you wonder if it can possibly be true, but you laugh and enjoy their musings.

Once you arrive at your apartment, you bid your friends farewell and swipe your keycard to enter your home. The inside of your apartment is dark, and only illuminated by a couple strings of battery powered fairy lights that are much more cost-effective on your energy bill than keeping your lights on. You lock the door behind you, toss your bag on the couch, and check all of the windows, before pulling the room darkening curtains closed as the sun threatens to rise.

You then enter the kitchen and wash the day of work off of your hands, then do a couple of the dishes that you’ve neglected for the past week. You place them neatly in the drying rack, then dry your hands as you mull over what you want to eat for dinner. You don’t feel like cooking, so leftovers are your only option. You pull open the conservator door and stare at your dismal choices. Finally, you pull out a small container of something you know isn’t bad and reheat it.

Sitting at your kitchen table, you mindlessly scroll through your data-pad and look at the current events while you munch on your dinner. You sigh as you read reports of the increased crime rate, violent anti-clone protests, and higher taxes for the lower levels. You toss your data-pad down, and grumble about there never being anything happy in the news to look at. When you finish dinner, you place your used dish in the sink, stretch, then head to your bedroom.

As you enter your bedroom, you flip the switch on the side wall to turn the lights on and nearly jump out of your skin as your soul almost leaves your body. There’s a clone lying on your bed. Of all the things you thought you’d come home to, maybe a stray tooka or something, you definitely never in your wildest imagination thought you’d find a whole clone in your apartment. You freeze and throw a hand over your mouth to stifle any noise but the clone doesn’t stir.

After the initial shock wears off, you notice that the clone’s armor looks awfully familiar to you. Your eyes widen with realization. It’s Fox. The Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard, a vampire, is on your bed. He’s lying on his stomach, armor still adorning his body, bucket perched on the nightstand, his face buried in one of your pillows, with both arms wrapped around it. Every single human emotion runs through your body, and you’re not sure which one to pick.

“Fox!” you yell. “What are you doing in my bed?”

Fox doesn’t move, but mumbles into the pillow. “Sleeping.”

“Why are you sleeping in my bed?” you demand.

Fox nuzzles the pillow gently. “It’s comfy.”

Your mouth falls open at his answer, but you really aren’t sure what you were expecting. “How did you even get in here?”

“The door,” he murmurs sleepily.

“I– You–” you're at a loss for words. You’re stunned. You rush over to him and grab his left leg to try and pull him off your bed, but he’s too heavy and you can’t get him to budge. You step back and groan in frustration that he’s not moving. Suddenly, something clicks in your brain and you become very afraid. “You’re…” you back away from the bed. “You’re not going to kill me are you? I kept your secret! I promise!”

Fox sighs at the fear he hears in your voice, and he mentally kicks himself for being the cause of it. He thought that confronting you in a safe place, such as your home, in a very calm and non-threatening way would make this easier on you. Clearly, he was wrong. Perhaps he should have asked for Thorn’s help after all. In an attempt to de-escalate the situation Fox remains still and speaks calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

His soft spoken words almost sound sincere, but you can still see his bloody face in your memories and hear those cynical words spoken to you. You feel conflicted about the situation. He hasn’t bothered you since that night and he hasn’t moved an inch since you got home. If he really wanted to kill you, wouldn’t he have done so already? It would be way too easy. Your physical prowess is nothing compared to a clone, let alone a commander. He could easily kill you.

“I promise,” he adds when you remain quiet.

You can hear a level of vulnerability in his words that strangely sets your heart at ease. Maybe the Fox that your corrie friends spoke of is the real Fox, and the Fox that you met in the alley isn’t. You might be rationalizing away his behavior that night, but everyone has a breaking point. Ultimately, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. You're still not okay with him breaking into your apartment or sleeping on your bed, but maybe he just needs a place to crash.

“Can you at least take your armor off?” you sigh. “You’re getting my duvet dirty.”

Fox doesn’t move a muscle.

“Whatever,” you let out another sigh, too exhausted to argue. “I’m going to take a shower, and I’m locking the door. So don’t try anything funny.”

Fox remains silent and unmoving.

You narrow your eyes, still wary of the commander. You know who he is. You know what he is. And you know what he’s capable of. As a precautionary measure, you grab your mace from your purse on the couch, gather a change of clothes, and lock yourself in the refresher. You should feel scared, more scared than you are, but something about him feels disarming and almost safe. It’s a stark contrast to what you saw the night you met, but maybe that’s his plan.

You finish your shower and exit the refresher, feeling clean and ready for bed. When you walk back into your bedroom, you startle for a moment. Fox is still lying on his stomach on your bed, but his armor is stacked neatly next to your dresser, leaving him clothed only in his black bodysuit. You look at him for a moment, cocking your head to the side, and wonder why he waited to take his armor off. Perhaps he didn’t want to scare you by making any sudden movements.

Whatever the reason, his intentions of not harming you are made clearer every second. He’s leaving his entire body vulnerable to you. You could easily grab one of the steak knives from the kitchen and stab him in the back with it, but you won’t. He hasn’t given you a reason to, and you hope he doesn’t. You haven’t been known as the smartest person in the world, and you trust way too easily, but you honestly don’t feel any malicious intent from him as he lies in your bed.

You cautiously come around to the empty side of the bed and look at his face nestled in your pillow. His dark curly hair lines the sides of his face, coming to rest just above his closed eyes, his lips are slightly parted as he breathes slowly. You have to admit, he looks peaceful, like this is the first bed he’s ever slept on in his whole life, and your heart softens a bit for him. He’s still a vampire, you remind yourself, but he doesn’t look scary, at least not like this.

Since Fox is sleeping on top of your duvet, instead of in it, you grab a blanket from the chair on the other side of the room and carefully drape it over him. He remains still and doesn’t say a word. You still wonder why you’re doing any of this, but something deep inside tells you that he won’t hurt you. You grab another blanket for yourself and stand at the edge of the bed. He’s still a little too close for comfort, and for caution's sake, you decide to sleep with your mace in your hand.

“Can you scoot over, please?” you ask.

Without opening his eyes, Fox wiggles himself to the edge of the bed, taking the pillow with him. You stifle a snort at how funny he looks, but the smile that crosses your face cannot be hidden. He’s like a child. Acting just like the rest of the clones when they encounter such small creature comforts. You take a lot of things for granted as a human, as a natborn, but you try your best to pay it forward to the clones when you can, even if that means letting one sleep in your bed.

You crawl onto the empty side of the bed and snuggle under the blanket you pulled off of the chair. You rest your head on your pillow and look over at Fox. His eyes are still closed and he seems to be asleep. Your mind on the other hand is racing with so many questions that you’re having trouble sleeping. It keeps going back to the night you met, and makes you wonder why he’s so different today than he was then. You fidget with your fingers, then decide to finally ask.

“Fox?” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he hums.

You hesitate for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles against the pillow.

“What would happen if they found out?” you ask.

Without opening his eyes he answers. “I’d be decommissioned.”

You chuckle. “Is that some type of early retirement?”

Fox opens his eyes slowly and looks at you. “I wish,” he sighs. “I’m defective. Defective clones are either reconditioned or decommissioned.”

You stare into his deep brown eyes. They look sad. “What’s the difference?”

“Reconditioning makes you a blank slate,” he explains. “Like a memory wipe. Then you’re put back in the general clone population to start over from scratch.”

“That’s… terrible,” you say. You don’t know too much about a clone’s life other than what your clone friends have told you, but to think that their lives can be ripped from them in an instant is sickening.

“That’s life,” Fox laments.

You pause before asking your next question, unsure if you really want to know the answer. “What about decommissioning?”

Fox rolls onto his back and leans his arm over his forehead, pushing his curls up and out of his face. He doesn’t want to tell you the truth, but if he ever wants you to understand the reason he needs you to keep his secret, then he has to tell you. “It’s just a fancy term for euthanasia.”

You sit up and your mouth gapes open in shock. “Euthanasia? Like what they do with animals?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“But you're not animals,” you retort.

“You’re right,” he says. “But we’re not people either. We’re products. Goods bought and sold. Some can be fixed, others need to be disposed of.”

You stifle back tears. “I don’t think of you as products.”

“I know,” Fox smiles sadly, remembering the way you treat your Corrie Guard friends. “But a memory wipe can’t fix what I am, so the only option is disposal. It used to be very common back when I was manufactured. I almost lost one of my batch brothers because he had blonde hair.” Fox chuckles at the memory.

“I’m so sorry,” you offer, unsure of what words of comfort you can even give him. The way he talks about himself, as a product makes you sick to your stomach. The reality of the clones hits you like never before and your resolve to help the clones grows even stronger. “I’ll keep your secret, I promise. I won’t let them decommission you. Any of you.”

Fox smiles at your kind words, even if they are naive. He knows you can’t save all of them, but he also knows you will try. He finds your affection for him and his brothers endearing, and it makes his heart flutter with warmth and happiness. He knows he is safe with you, that he can be vulnerable with you, and that you won’t cast him aside like so many other natborns have. You’re different, so much different than anyone else, and he never wants to lose that.

“Go to sleep, mesh’la,” Fox says. “You can save all of the clones tomorrow.” Without another word, Fox flops himself back onto his stomach and buries his face into the pillow, slowly drifting off to sleep.

You lie awake for a little while longer as the sun peeks through the top of your room darkening curtains, and think about his words, about the fate of the clones, and about his fate as a vampire. You’re not even sure how he became a vampire, or if there are more vampires amongst the clones. All you know is that this clone, this commander, Fox, is sleeping peacefully in your bed, and dreaming of a life that is more than what he was created for.

The next evening, you wake up as usual to your alarm going off, telling you to get up for another night at work. You sit up and stretch towards the ceiling, then rub the sleep from your eyes. You look over and see Fox still sleeping in the same position he started in. You wonder if sleeping on his stomach is out of habit, or if he really enjoys it. To you, it looks uncomfortable, but you let the thought go. You sneak out of bed, trying not to wake him, and start your morning routine.

Since it’s the two of you this evening, you decide to make breakfast for once, instead of just tossing whatever you find in your mouth and flying out the door. You start the caf machine and pull two mugs out from the top of your cupboard. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a guest for breakfast, so you’re glad you kept the extra mugs. As the caf percolates in the machine, you set your small kitchen table for two, with plates, forks, napkins, and cups.

You pull four eggs from the basket, but you pause when you realize that you’re not sure how he likes his eggs. To be honest, you’re not sure if he’s ever eaten an egg. You decide to play it safe by making them all scrambled. Everyone loves scrambled eggs. Then you toss several strips of bacon in a different frying pan. As you work on cooking the eggs and bacon, you pop a few slices of bread in the toaster and grab the orange juice from the conservator.

When you close the door, you’re startled to see Fox standing there. His face is still covered in sleep and his curls are all flattened on one side. He has one hand under the top half of his blacks, scratching at his stomach, and he releases a small yawn. The smell of food must have roused him from his sleep. You give him a small smile and pull out one of the table chairs for him to sit. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes light up when you place a mug of hot caf in front of him.

He looks between you and the caf several times, almost asking for your permission to drink it. You chuckle and nod your head for him to take it. He grabs the sides of the mug, cradling it like it’s the most precious gift he’s ever received. He brings it to his lips, inhaling the beautiful aroma before giving it a small taste. The hot liquid bites his tongue, but it doesn’t bother him, not when the taste of the caf is this divine. He lets out a languid sigh and practically melts into the mug.

You smile grows bigger at his childlike innocence and you place a plate of steaming food in front of him. His face is still in his mug, but when he pulls it away and sees the food, his eyes blow wide open. Once again he’s shocked that you’re providing him with such delicacies to enjoy. He starts to feel guilty that he gets to eat like a king while his brothers are starving on rations, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he eats what you give him and enjoys it.

Whether it was your home cooked meals or your comfortable bed, your new routine now contains Fox. Every morning, when you come home from work, you find Fox lying in your bed, exhausted from his night. You let him shower now, and even bought him his own towel, soap, and shampoo to use. Sometimes he spends a while in the shower, but you don’t bug him about it. You can only imagine how good it feels for him, after never having a proper shower in his life.

You also make dinner for the two of you as well. You have to admit, ever since Fox came into your life, your eating habits have gotten better. After dinner and dishes, you both curl up into your bed and sleep. When you first explained to him that the duvet was for sleeping under and not on, Fox got very excited. The weight of the duvet made him sleep better than he’s ever slept before. Then, in the evening when you get up, you make caf and breakfast, and you both leave for work.

It’s been several months now, and you’re completely used to cohabitating with Fox. You now expect him to be there whenever you come home. You find it fun to have a roommate. You have someone to talk to and watch sappy holo-dramas with. There’s nothing you enjoy more than curling up on the couch and eating popcorn together. He doesn’t bring in any income, but you don’t mind. The joy on his face when he drinks his first mug of caf in the evening is payment enough.

This early morning is no different than any other. You come home from work and find Fox lying in your bed, and you jostle him awake so you can make dinner together. Once you taught Fox how to cook, he became invaluable for meal prep and dinner time. Making dinner with Fox is now one of your favorite things to do. You both find it fun and a great bonding time. You talk about your days, smile, and laugh about dumb things each other says. You’ve never been happier in your whole life.

This morning, you’re making stew for dinner. It’s a new recipe and you’re really looking forward to sharing it with Fox. The days on Coruscant have grown cold and blustery, so it’s the perfect time of the cycle to be making warm food for the soul. You both set to work, peeling and chopping vegetables to throw in the pot. You're chatting about your day, when in a split second, your knife slips and you cut your finger. You wince at the pain and drop your knife on the cutting board.

Fox immediately smells your blood, that sweet sweet blood of yours that he almost forgot about. His heart skips a beat and his fangs twitch to life in his mouth. He fights it, the urge to take you right here in the kitchen and drink that precious blood of yours, and he staggers backwards until his back is resting against the conservator, covering his nose from your alluring scent. You sigh at your clumsiness and walk over to the sink to rinse your finger off, but Fox catches your arm and grips it tightly.

You snap your neck to look over at him and you see his blown pupils threatening to overtake his dark brown irises as his fangs begin to grow in his mouth. His grip on your arm is tight and for the first time in a long time, you feel fear when you look at Fox. Your life together has been so normal, you almost forgot he’s a vampire, and here you are bleeding in front of him. Your breath quickens, and your arm trembles. When Fox smells your fear, he releases your arm and steps away from you.

“I… I’m sorry,” he apologizes through a shaky breath. “It just smells so good. I couldn’t help myself.”

You rub your arm where he gripped you and knit your brows with worry. You can tell he’s struggling against the urge, and you feel bad for being afraid of him when his reaction seems automatic and not even close to malicious. He’s desperately trying to respect your boundaries, fighting the arousal in him as his fangs throb, desperate to release the building pressure. You have to get rid of it, the blood that’s causing him so much pain, so you turn the water faucet on.

“Please!” Fox pleads between pants. He reaches with his arm again, but stops himself as he poorly tries to contain his need. “Don’t waste it.”

“Do… Do you want it?” You ask hesitantly. The words feel foreign as they cross your lips.

Fox clenches his teeth and nods.

You fidget nervously. "Will I become a vampire if you drink my blood?"

Fox chuckles as he strains through his desire. "Doesn't work… Like that.”

“Fox, I’m scared,” you admit.

“Won’t… Hurt you,” Fox says through gritted teeth. “Promise.”

You hesitate for a moment, then tentatively stretch out your finger. He looks at your blood, lust overtakes his eyes, the pupils now blown wide. He wants it. He craves it. The sweetest smelling blood. He parts his lips and you can see his fangs protruding past the rest of his teeth. A fresh wave of fear hits you and you recoil your finger. Fox can smell your fear, so he takes your wounded hand gently in his and caresses the side of his face with the back of it, trying to calm you down.

He slowly slides your hand down his cheek and to his lips and darts out his tongue, flicking it across your bloody finger. He closes his eyes and he releases a sultry moan at the taste. Your blood is intoxicating and he wants more. He wraps his lips around your finger, his hot tongue swirling around it, lapping up every last drop that has spilled from it. You shudder when he starts sucking on it, pulling fresh blood from the open wound, the sensation odd and unfamiliar.

As much as Fox wants more, your finger won’t give it. The cut begins to clot without further penetration and the sweet taste slowly dissipates. He reluctantly releases your finger, a soft whine escaping from his throat at the loss of your blood. You take your finger back and inspect it, the wound already scabbing over and healing. You look at him in shock, and he stares back at you, panting as he comes down from his high. His fangs retract and his brown irises return.

“How did you do that?” you ask.

Fox sits down at the kitchen table and exhales deeply as his senses come back to him. “The secretion of my fangs.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“How much do you know about vampires?” he asks.

“Just what I’ve read in books,” you answer as you sit down at the table across from him.

“Well, all those books are wrong,” Fox explains. “First, I can’t turn you into a vampire. Second, we’re not immortal. Third, my fangs are only present when they’re aroused. And fourth, my fangs secrete both dopamine and serotonin.”

You blink at him a couple of times as you take in all the new information. You open your mouth to ask another question, but he answers that one too.

“And no, I don't turn into a bat at night or become dust in the sunlight,” he adds with a small laugh.

“So, then you don’t need blood to survive?” you ask.

Fox shakes his head. “Nope. It’s more like a craving.”

“What about the man?” As soon as the words are released, you instantly regret the question. You didn’t mean to bring that night up, but it fell out of your mouth too quickly.

Fox pauses at the question, knowing it was going to be asked sooner or later. “I drink blood for two reasons,” Fox begins and puts up two fingers. “For revenge and for pleasure.” Fox pauses again and looks to the side. “That man… He hurt one of my men. I was angry and bitter, and out for revenge.”

“Oh, I see...” You think about his words for a moment, wondering if you should ask more about that night or if you should just change the subject and move on. It’s already a sore spot between you two, but Fox has apologized about it multiple times since you’ve been living together. You ultimately decide on the latter of the options. “Does it taste good?”

Fox chuckles at the question. “Depends. Male blood is more bitter and female blood is more sweet, but those scales can tip depending on a lot of things.”

“What does my blood taste like?” You ask.

Fox traces absentminded shapes on the table with his finger and smiles as he remembers your taste. “Sweet, very sweet.”

You fidget with your wounded finger before asking your next question. “Was it… pleasurable?”

Fox purses his lips and thinks for a moment, trying to form his words carefully so as to not cause you an alarm. “Yeah, it was pleasurable, but it’s more pleasurable when I use my fangs.”

You wonder what the taste of your blood has to do with his fangs. “Why?”

“The secretions,” he says as he taps the side of his lip. “If my fangs are inside you, then you get it too. It’s supposed to keep the prey from struggling too much, but it also feels really good.” Fox rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. He’s never had to explain this to anyone before, especially to someone he cares about. “It can make for an awkward revenge kill, but also an erotic pleasurable drink.”

A warm heat creeps across your face. You remember the way he looked when he was drinking the small amount of blood you gave him and he was clearly having a good time sucking on your little finger. Perhaps getting your blood drunk by a vampire is a pleasurable experience. Your mind begins to wander and you think about Fox sinking his fangs into the side of your neck and it sends sparks of excitement through your body. You quickly lose yourself in your daydream.

“Mesh’la,” Fox says, trying to pull you from your thoughts.

You blink back to reality. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Fox asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, yeah,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I’m fine. Just a lot of information.”

Fox gets up from his chair and places a small kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll finish dinner tonight. Why don’t you go shower. It'll be done by the time you're out.”

You lean your head back against his stomach, close your eyes, and sigh. “Okay.”

Fox gives you another chaste kiss and helps you to your feet. A shower does sound really nice right about now. It’ll give you some time to clear your head and think about everything that has happened. You leave Fox to dinner and head to the refresher to take a shower. You run the water for a minute before getting in, then step under the stream of hot water. The water flows across the curves of your body as the gentle massage of the droplets soothes your muscles.

You wash your hair and give it a good conditioning, then wash your body. You lather up your washcloth and run it across your arms, legs, stomach, and down the side of your neck. You stop and do it again, only slower, rubbing the soft cloth against the thin sensitive skin. You start to think about Fox, about his fangs inside you, and what it would feel like. You close your eyes and imagine it, an erotic encounter with someone you trust and love that doesn’t involve sex.

You’ve had the conversation with Fox before, about sex. You’ve been living together for a while now, and what started as a mutual living arrangement turned into a relationship before you could blink your eyes. He shared his feelings with you. How much he loves you, cares for you, and what you mean to him. The feelings are mutual. However, you always feel bad about denying him such an intimate encounter, but you aren’t ready, and you’re not sure when you will be.

Fox never pushes the issue, and he never brings it up. He only ever discusses it if you are the one who initiates the conversation. You love that about Fox. He respects every boundary you give him. Even when he was overcome with lust at the scent of your blood, he still let you make the choice. He was in pain, and he chose you over himself. He always chooses you, over and over again. This time though, you want to choose him. You want to give him what he craves.

Once out of the shower, you dry yourself off with your towel and hang it next to Fox’s. You quickly towel dry your hair, moisturize your body, throw on your pajamas, and leave the warmth of the refresher. The transition to your chilly apartment isn’t bad, because Fox grabs you from behind and pulls you against his warm chest. You squeal and then smile when he wraps his arms around your stomach. He buries his nose in your freshly washed hair and lets out a contented sigh.

“You smell good,” Fox mumbles against your scalp.

You giggle. “Really? All I smell is that stew you’re making.”

Fox chuckles. “It does smell good, doesn’t it?”

You escape his embrace and spin around on your heels. “I think it’s dinner time.”

“I think you’re right,” Fox agrees and you both head to the kitchen.

The two of you sit at the kitchen table and enjoy your dinner together. Regardless of your small chopping mishap earlier, the stew came out wonderful. Fox did an amazing job and you can see him beam with pride as you groan from the warm earthy goodness. He also made a small batch of biscuits, which surprised you. You forgot you had those in the conservator, so you're happy they finally got put to good use. After dinner, you clean up the kitchen and Fox takes his shower.

It’s just about bedtime as you see the sun peeking through your curtains. You’re already in your pajamas, so you crawl into bed. The cool sheets cause you to shiver slightly as you wait for the bed to get warmer. Fox returns from his shower, his curls still a little damp from toweling them. He removes his t-shirt and tosses it onto the chair, leaving him in only his gray sweatpants, both of which you bought him a couple months ago, then settles in on the other side of the bed.

With Fox under the duvet, you know the bed will get warm soon, but you’re still cold, so you scoot over to him to leech off of his warmth. His body radiates heat, which is why he can sleep without a shirt and not freeze to death, unlike you, who needs ten different layers, plus extra blankets to keep warm. Without opening his eyes, Fox lifts up his arm to give you access, and you eagerly take the invitation and snuggle closer to him, instantly feeling warmer.

You close your eyes and try to fall asleep, but your thoughts from earlier are nagging at the back of your mind. You start thinking about Fox drinking your blood again, and how pleasurable it might be for you. The thoughts are only compounded by being so close to him, the warmth emanating from his body, the musky scent of his skin and hair, and the feeling of his toned back muscles beneath your fingers. It’s almost too much to bear, and once again your curiosity is getting the better of you.

“Fox?” you whisper into his shoulder.

“Hmm?” he mumbles into his pillow.

“Do you want to drink my blood?” you ask, a twinge of nervousness escaping through your question.

Fox opens his eyes as a jolt of lightning goes straight from his stomach and into his fangs. The thought of drinking your blood arouses them, and they quickly become engorged and primed for penetration. He curses to himself at just how fast they were ready when you asked. Almost, embarrassingly fast. The familiar pressure begins to build and Fox shifts his body in discomfort. He doesn’t know if you’re just curious or if this is an invitation, but he prepares himself for either.

“Yeah,” Fox admits as he rotates from his stomach to his side so he can see you better. “But not unless you want me to.”

“What if I do want you to?” you ask.

Fox stifles a groan as his fangs throb in his mouth, desperate to pierce your beautiful skin. “Are you sure?” he asks.

You hesitate for a second. “Will it hurt?”

Fox picks his head up and props it up on the palm of his hand, elbow bent and leaning on the pillow. He looks into your eyes, glides his hand from your covered waist to your exposed neck, and brushes his knuckles against the soft flesh. The skin there is so supple and inviting. His fangs throb harder as he envisions himself drinking your sugary sweet blood. Fox leans closer, as he continues to caress the side of your neck, and rests his forehead against yours to reassure you.

“You’ll feel a sharp pain as they sink in,” he explains with a gentle whisper, “and they’ll throb under your skin, but the pleasure will take over soon after.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you say softly.

Fox smiles, then continues. “It’ll drip a little when I pull them out, but I’ll clean it up. You might be drowsy afterwards and a bit cold. It might ache for a day, since it's your first time, and form a small bruise.”

Your heartbeat quickens at all the information and Fox can smell your growing fears.

Fox cups the sides of your face in both of his hands and looks deeply into your sparkling eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid, cyare,” he soothes. “I won't hurt you.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment.

“Tell me that you want it, cyare,” he whispers, his hands moving from your face to your shoulders.

“I want it Fox,” you answer.

“How do you want it?” he asks, nuzzling the side of your cheek with his own. “Do you want to lay down or sit on my lap? Whatever is more comfortable for you.”

You think for a moment, and if you’re going to be drowsy, then you’ll want to be laying down, so you pull back from his touch and lie back against your pillow. “Just like this.”

Fox leans over to give your forehead a small kiss, then rips the duvet off the both of you. A slight shiver runs down your body at the loss of your warm covers, but it’s soon replaced with a new warmth. Fox straddles his legs overtop yours, hovering over your prone body as his hands plant themselves at the sides of your head. Your anticipation grows as he stares down at you with lustful eyes, and a knot forms in your stomach as you wonder what his fangs will feel like as they penetrate your soft skin.

Fox can hear your heart racing and he gently places his left hand on your chest. "Relax for me, mesh’la. Your heart is beating too fast. I don't want this to hurt."

You nod your head and work to get your breathing under control to slow your heart rate. You take deep, slow breaths as Fox guides your breathing to be in sync with his. His brown irises have been replaced by blown pupils and his fangs protrude from their hiding spot, dripping with their pleasure inducing secretions. His dark curls drape around his face, accentuating his hooded eyes and parted lips. You stare into his eyes, letting your breath match his, as you finally calm down.

"Good girl," Fox praises.

He tilts his head to the right and ghosts his lips across your supple neck as he searches for the perfect spot to penetrate your flesh. It has to be just right. Too far to either side, and he might hurt you. He takes him time, even as you whimper impatiently beneath him, because he needs this to be perfect. You’re putting all of your trust in him, that he won’t hurt you, and he refuses to break that trust. He continues to nose around your neck, before he finds his mark.

"Right there," Fox breathes against your neck, causing the little hairs to stand on end. “That’s where you’ll feel me.” He nuzzles the side of your face for reassurance. "Are you ready, mesh’la?” he whispers against your skin. “To feel ecstasy?”

You release an involuntary moan at the sultry words. "Please, Fox. I want you to– Ah!"

Your words turn into a whimper when you feel a sharp pain in the side of your neck. You instinctively raise your left hand to touch the pained area, but it instead finds purchase in Fox’s hair. You clench your fist around his curls, your other hand digging into his back, as you wince at the stinging sensation. It’s just as he described, but as soon as the pain came, it went. Now all you feel is the throbbing of his engorged fangs under your skin as he drinks your blood.

Fox pulls away from your neck to catch his breath. His head rises to meet your wanton gaze and you can see your blood on his fangs and lips as he pants above you. Your own breath becomes rapid as the endorphins released from his fangs invade your system, reaching every corner of your body, causing you to elicit the most salacious moan. The feeling is euphoric and your eyes roll back in your head. He’s not even touching you, and your body feels like it’s on fire.

"How do I taste?" you ask between labored breaths.

"Intoxicating," Fox moans. "So sweet. So perfect."

Fox reinserts his fangs into your delicate skin, desperately needing to taste more of you as he becomes drunk on your sugary blood. It’s delectable, addicting, and too good to part with. A pure delicacy that he wants to drown in. His own pleasure is only magnified as you fall apart beneath him, moaning his name in the most obscene ways while taking chunks of flesh out his back. If anyone were to overhear you right now, they’d never once think that you’re being devoured by a vampire.

The flood of endorphins overpower your body. You dig your nails further into Fox’s back as you curl your toes into the sheets, trying not to scream from the tension building and releasing in your body. You understand now, what he meant earlier when he said it would be pleasurable, and you wholly underestimated just how pleasurable it would be. You’ve never felt like this before, like you're floating in a cloud of weightlessness, and you never want it to end.

Fox knows he has to stop before he drinks you dry. The urge to stay here forever, tasting you and lapping up every drop of blood you have to offer, is overwhelming. He wants to indulge in your sweet nectar and get drunk on your blood for hours, but he can't. He can feel your skin growing chilled as your blood recedes your vital organs. He’s out of time and he needs to let you go. It won’t be forever though. He has a feeling that he’ll get to drink your blood again.

With a soft whine, he releases you, panting heavily from the long drink. He looks at the two holes in the side of your neck, little pools of blood forming at the surface. He licks the droplets until they begin to clot and close, and kisses the spot for good measure before picking his head up to look at you. He licks the remaining blood off his lips and smiles down at your disheveled state. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes half open, and mouth parted. It must have been a wonderful ride.

“Fox,” you moan as your body continues to ride out the last of the endorphins.

“Cyare,” Fox purrs as he nuzzles the side of your cheek.

You look up at him with hooded eyes. “How was it?”

Fox chuckles. “I should be asking you that.”

“It was really really good,” you groan.

Fox smirks. “I’m glad.”

You groan at your body’s response. With Fox’s fangs gone, the euphoric feeling in your body slowly begins to dissipate and your senses return to you, as well as the side effects. You roll your head to the side and close your eyes. “I’m so tired.”

Fox carefully gets off of you, stretches out beside you, and strokes your hair. “That’s normal.”

“I’m cold, too,” you add with an involuntary shiver as you try to curl into a ball.

Fox frowns and pulls his fingers away. He moves toward the edge of the bed and grabs the duvet that he flung off earlier. He rolls you over so you’re facing him and gently presses you against his chest. He then wraps the duvet snuggly around you both, making sure that you are completely covered, with just enough of an opening so you can breathe. He runs his hands up and down you back as you bury your face into his neck and cling to him for warmth. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you mumble against his skin.

Fox places a soft kiss on your forehead. “Rest now.”

“Fox?” you whisper.

“Yes, mesh’la?” Fox answers.

You look into his eyes and smile. “You caught me.”

Fox chuckles and holds you tighter. “So I did.”

Masterlist

AO3

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#tbbb writes #CFB2023 #pineapple's 2023 halloween party #vampire!fox x fem!reader #vampire!fox x reader #vampire!fox x you #fox x fem!reader #fox x reader #fox x you #vampire!fox #commander fox #tcw fox #fox #the clone wars #tcw #star wars #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars #clone wars fanfic #clone wars fic #tcw fanfiction #tcw fanfic #tcw fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #submission

[frickingnerd]

i can feel you dreaming of me

pairing: yusuke kitagawa x gn!reader

summary: you fall asleep on top of yusuke and your boyfriend can't take his eyes off you...

"you look… so pretty… and peaceful…"

yusuke couldn't take his eyes off you. 

you had fallen asleep on top of him while the two had been cuddling and watching one of those artsy movies he's so interested in. yusuke had only noticed that you had drifted off to sleep after the movie was already over and now that you were already asleep, he couldn't slip away anymore or he'd risk waking you up. 

"so pretty… if i could just…"

his eyes wandered towards his desk, where a notebook and some pens lied. yusuke would've loved to take a quick sketch of you in this position, but he knew he couldn't move and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to return to his original position and the perspective would be different. 

"i'll just… have to remember this view…"

he swore to himself, before slowly drifting off to sleep as well…

#yusuke kitagawa x reader #yusuke kitawaga #yusuke kitagawa #kitagawa yusuke x reader #kitagawa yusuke #yusuke x reader #kitagawa x reader #yusuke #kitagawa #x reader #x you #x gn reader #x y/n #oneshot #drabble #fluff #persona 5 the animation #persona x reader #persona 5 x reader #persona 5 royal #persona 5 #p5 x reader #fox x reader #fox #wholesome

[the7thheroine]

Inspired by their Ren hana fanfic where the reader was a stripper @6robotmonster6 go check them out.

Ren hana x Stripper soulmate au

(If your soulmate tries to injure you, it doesn’t work and instead the wound will close right back up as if nothing happened)

As you sat in the changing room, adjusting your costume and fixing your makeup, you could hear the other girls chattering around you about the new owner who had bought out the club recently as of last night alongside the loud bass blasting music outside the door.

“He’s a beast skin! A fox at that too.”

“I heard he’s apart of a human trafficking ring and does some live streams with the people he takes!”

“I heard he’s into some pretty twisted stuff…”

“Im going try and score with him. he gave the girls last night a generous tip. Just for a chat and a kiss! He’s definitely got some cash on him to share out.” Cut in ‘Angel’ putting down her makeup brush before standing up and stretching, throwing you a wink making kissing gestures.

She was one of the most booked dancer and was the old club owners favourite dancer considering her devilish personality. She was sly, always managing to twist the customers into giving her more money, you would consider her a friend if you weren’t constantly competing to get the most customers and money.

You look up at her, she never usually is enthusiastic about performing, so maybe this guy was a serious donor. “Have fun. I’m on the pole for awhile then I’m on the private rooms for an hour.” You chimed in before standing up and doing up your heels.

She turned back to you offering a quick wink. “Be careful alright? Your the new meat and that makes you naive.” She called laughing. “Says you! Your trying to score with a gang leader in human trafficking.” You rolled your eyes. Walking away.

As you walked in you couldn’t help but take a look at the people around the stage. Angel had already made her move and was sat under the arm of the new boss who seemed… very short. The only feature you could see that gave away the beast skin was his eyes and sharp claws that were caressing angels leg and his amber eyes keeping a close eye on her as if she was his prey. Around the both of them sat a circle of fancy, established business men. Many who had seemed to develop… excitement from angels appearance. You couldn’t help but shiver in disgust.

Walking towards the stages you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder. Many of the people who came to the clubs in the city did not have soulmates and were almost always soulmateless or had yet to meet the one they would call their own. It’s not like people actively search out their soulmate by hurting others.. right?

Just before you could reach the pole however to begin your performance, you heard the sound of a cry. “What the fuck is the matter with you?! my leg!” Angel had stood up swaying from left to right, her hand tightly over the flesh of her leg that had been ripped up by the man.

“Well isn’t that a shame.. I’m sure you can get that patched up!” The man smiled, licking his claws where the blood laid slowly dripping. You couldn’t help but shudder.A few girls had made their way over, two supporting Angel to help her into the back room to clean up. “Fuck you! Oh my god my leg how am I supposed to dance!” She cried out as weight was placed on her injured leg.

“Well aren’t you fiery! I’d be careful how you speak to me if you want to keep your life and job.” He chuckled slowly turning around to the now silent club. “isn’t this a great time to introduce myself! As many of you ladies and gents now know I am the new owner of this club.” He smiled and took off his hat pressing it to his chest. On his head laid two fox ears and a head of orange and silver hair.

His eyes traced over the girls before landing swiftly on you. He stood up making his way over to you before shaking an arm around your waist pulling you into his chest “Of course I won’t be running things like your old boss and there will be a few adjustments to the performances to suit the performances for my taste.. but I’m sure you dancers won’t mind as we both have in common our love for performances!” He smirked turning towards you.

You couldn’t help but blink. Did… did he want you to answer? Slowly a fake smile graced your face. “Of course sir we would be happy to do so for you.” You slowly tried to pull away from him, but his grip did not let up. “Huh.. you didn’t sound to enthusiastic sweetheart. I’ll give you another try.” His eyes has seemed to loose its twinkle and had taken on a predatory look.

“I.. Uhmm.. yes sir! We would be grateful for you to change the way it runs and would be happy to serve you!” You tried to smile wider but your nerves from his threat made if fall lopsided and your voice to gain an edge and start to shake.

He tutted, “you don’t sound to pleased, and here I had heard you were one of the best dancers and employees. I think I’ll have to let you go. I gave you a chance and you fucked it up.” His arm tightened around your waist as he raised his other hand up. You writhed and cried trying to escape his hold begging him. “ Please! I’ll do anything! Don’t do this-” his hand slashed over your stomach twice with his nails, creating multiple wounds. You screamed in agony falling to the floor. Oh god.. is this how you will die? In some dingy club on the floor after you couldn’t please your impatient owner? You could hear the girls screaming and the stunned audience whispering. Many of the goons in delight of the blood, some fancy business men in disgust from the lack of show.

“Well.. isn’t this is a twist for the night!” You heard him say. You looked up. You didn’t feel light headed Anymore.. you couldn’t feel your blood or guts spilling out. Slowly, looking at your stomach where the gashes had once laid, they were closed up. The blood still stained the carpet and your costume. But you weren’t bleeding out. You weren’t dead.

You felt two pairs of strong hands pull you up and place your arms behind your back.

He was watching you, a look mixed with love and obsession covered him face. “It seems as if I’ve found my other half.. don’t worry your all mine and you won’t be performing anymore.” His bloody claws reached up caressing your cheek slowly before he leaned in pressing a kiss to your forehead. You tried not to flinch as he pulled away, signalling the guards to take you out the door.

And as your pulled away you can hear the muffled barking off orders to round up all the dancers who witnessed the crime and to have them sent out and replaced by next week.

#Ren hana #Ren #boyfriend to death 2 #boyfriend to death #the price of flesh #tpof #btd #soulmate au #Ren hana x Reader #Ren hana/Reader #fox price of flesh #fox x reader

[hiskillingjar]

Menophilia (Fox/MC)

day 16: menophilia second person. veryyyy much inspired by some very hot art made by @ stankfists on twitter.

You were in trouble .

Fox had caught you trying to signal the attention of a member of staff that had flitted to and from the apartment while he was working, and naturally assumed the worst of you. Not like you could really blame him. 

You were a hostage, for God's sake, who knew what you could have gotten up to when you were out of his sight?

That's why you were sitting in the living room, your (metaphorical) tail between your legs, waiting for the scolding of a lifetime.

"So...would you like to explain to me what you were doing trying to contact my staff?" Fox said, his tone almost grave as he closed the door of his office behind him and leaned against it. "I do hope you weren't planning an escape...after all I've done to train you so well, after everything that we’ve done? I should really be more insulted than I am, you know."

"I wasn't," You murmured softly, looking down at your lap with a shake of your head as he paced to your front, kneading your fingers against your thigh. "I wasn't planning to escape, that's...not what I was doing, I promise."

"Oh? What was it, then?" He asked with a raised brow, taking a step closer to you, taking your chin in his hand and raising it up to meet his eyes, his own cold. You made a little noise of discomfort when he took your face in hand, looking down at your flushed expression with a vague look of condescending sympathy. 

Better that than anger, you guessed.

"What were you planning, if not an...elaborate escape? A surprise party, maybe? Should I have my secretary write up an RSVP?" He finished with a forced chuckle, a little shrug of his shoulders.

"I just...I needed something that I didn't have," You replied, your words a little slurred as he squished your cheeks. 

"What could you possibly need that you don't already have?" He then asked, narrowing his eyes a touch, like he couldn't believe what you were saying. "You're provided everything in the world, the best possible luxuries, and yet, you still demand more? How insatiable of you, pet. You'll be wanting to go to the opera next!" 

Your cheeks flushed again as you tried to pull back from his firm grip, but it only encouraged him to pull you in even closer, digging his claws into the soft skin.

He took a moment to brush a thick lock of hair behind your ear to reveal your flushed face to his view, smirking lightly before it twitched for just a moment, as his nostrils flared and he finally took a good long whiff of you, and...worked out the reason you were trying to ask for things from his staff in almost an instant. 

Your face flushed bright red immediately when the expression of recognition slowly came to his face, trying to avert your gaze and hide just how embarrassed you were, as a slow and hungry smirk spread on his face.

"Sooo, that's what it is," The older man chuckled darkly, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement and mischief. "Someone forgot to take their birth control, didn't they? Haha, how cute! Now you're streaming like a fountain, aren't you?"

"Oh my god," You murmured, practically trembling from how mortified you were feeling, trying desperately to pull back from him.

"Aww..." He grinned a little wider, clicking his tongue in mock sympathy. "Did you think that I wouldn't work out your little secret?" He laughed again at your blushing and trembling. "Or were you hoping I wouldn't notice? I'm a fox, if you forgot, sweetheart," He leaned a little closer, his ears twitching and his tail wagging, seemingly emphasising his point even further. "I can smell it now, actually, now that it’s just the two of us..."

"Can you please just ask someone to get me some tampons or something...?" You mumbled, keeping your eyes locked down and waiting desperately to just be dismissed.

"And why would I do that, darling?" He laughed again and rubbed your chin as he watched your embarrassed and trembling reactions indulgently. "I mean I'm enjoying this very much, personally.”

"Fox..." You whimpered softly, biting your lip as your cheeks flushed even more. "Please...I don't ask you for anything."

"I'm not giving you anything either." He replied easily, finally letting go of your face to join you on the couch, slinging an arm around your trembling shoulders and watching you with a sharp grin. "Maybe if you let me enjoy what I want first, I'll think about providing you with what you need , hm?"

You didn't move your head, not wanting to look up and be an accomplice to your own degradation, but your eyes flitted upwards to see as he placed his free hand on your thigh, digging his claws in and gently, barely jerking it to the side to meet his own thigh, wordlessly telling you what he wanted, what he expected.

You didn't say a thing as you let your legs part, showing a soaking, red stain on your white underwear and the smear of blood covering your inner thighs.

His eyes widened as he looked down at the small stain, but the older man didn't resist an even wider grin as he grabbed your thigh even harder and yanked your body down against the couch, offering him the perfect opportunity to cage you down and stare at the mess between your legs. 

"Well, would you look at that?" He said, with a voice as close to awe as a bastard like Fox could manage. "And they have no one to blame but themselves for not asking me just a little bit sooner~ You really could have avoided all of this mess, sweetheart."

"You would have said no..." You murmured softly as he got closer to you, his nostrils flared and dragging your scent in, keeping your legs parted with a firm grip on your thigh.

"Of course, I would have said no, are you kidding?" He replied with a scoff. "I would have done it just to watch you squirm like this and see the look on your face. Priceless! It would have been just too cute for me to resist."

You let out an unsteady breath, almost a whimper, through your gritted teeth as he continued to stare down at you, taking in long breaths of your heavy scent like he was indulging in a delicious meal or a fine wine. After a few moments, he finally looked you in the eye, his own blown wide with hunger, running his tongue over his jaws.

"Do you want me to clean you up?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper, and leaned closer, his clawed finger running up the middle of the soaking gusset of your panties, where the blood was still soaking through.

"H-Huh?"

"I said..." The older man repeated himself, his voice taking a teasing undertone, as his expression got hungrier. "Do you want me to clean up your little mess, pet~?"

You didn't answer properly, not with your words, not trusting them enough not to give away how nervous and frightened you were. You took in another breath, still wet blood seepeing down your thigh and soaking into your panties. Despite everything telling you to do otherwise, though, you parted your legs further, showing him the mess of blood between your legs.

"Hah..." 

With a slow, drawn-out motion, his fingers shifted from your thighs and the soft folds of your pelvis, to the soaking creases of your underwear, gently pulling the wet fabric away from your sticky labia as he stared intently at the mess. A hungry grin painted his darkened features as he looked at it, his eyes hungry and inquisitive as he smeared the blood even further down your trembling thigh.

"It looks like you leaked quite a bit." He said softly, placing himself between your legs. "It must have been all day, right? All day...you leaked all day long and didn't even try to ask me for help..." He ran his tongue over his teeth again as he leaned in a little closer, his face inches from yours. "Now...how about we get you out of those dirty panties once and for all, and I can have a proper taste, hm?"

"T-Taste?" You said quickly, sitting up.

"Well, if you've been leaking all day, I do think it is only fair to taste what you've offered up." He replied with an easy smirk. 

You didn't have the chance to react before he was dipping his head and running his tongue over your hole, delving and devouring almost immediately as soon as he got the taste of your blood.

"Oh...ohhhh," You gasped, your once wide eyes sliding shut as you felt his lips trail against your labia, your clit, completely undeterred by the blood that was still oozing from inside of you as he kept your legs parted forcibly. "Oh god, Fox..." Your gasps faded into moans as you pressed your head back against the couch and raised your hips against his tongue.

He was tasting you, well and truly, and what's more, he was enjoying it.

Almost as much as you were.

He pulled back just a touch to breathe hotly against your cunt, his tongue lightly dancing over your clit as you heard him chuckle and moan quietly, raggedly, too overwhelmed by his own pleasure to try and intimidate you. 

"You taste perfect," He mumbled softly, pressing another deep kiss to your hole, his sharp teeth grazing your skin as he tasted you. "Oh, if you only knew how much your master has been wanting this~"

You moaned softly, letting your hips tilt upwards a touch as he dragged your body down against his, letting him devour you just the way he wanted, his fingers kneading your hips as he did so, digging into the soft folds of your tummy, your thighs. 

You couldn't resist reaching down and pushing a hand through his hair, rubbing against the base of his fox ears as they twitched at the motion. You were relieved that he let you do something that invasive, and even surprised when he moaned a little and pressed against you even more, pushing his tongue deeper and tasting every drop of new blood oozing from you. 

"Fox...ahhn..." You groaned, wrapping a leg around his slim shoulders, letting you rock up against his devouring mouth a little more. You probably looked a mess but like you cared. He looked at you like a piece of art, a fine meal, so that's how you felt.

"Please keep going..." You begged, squeezing your eyes shut. "Never stop, never stop..." "Ah," He gasped raggedly, glaring up at you with eyes blown wide with hunger and desperation, his face smeared with blood and his sharp teeth stained with the same. "You have NO idea what you're asking of me, pet…”

#tpof #fox tpof #ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #fox x mc #fox x reader #kinktober 2023

[vodika-vibes]

Hehehehe… Okay, you said it would be cool to send in another request, and after the Jesse fic which was absolutely fluffy and squeal worthy, I’m sending in another.

White Tulip and Yellow Orchid

You break up with Fox, and it’s taking a toll on the both of you. It was hard enough when you found out Fox cheated, but somehow it’s even harder not being around each other in a relationship.

I don’t know something along those lines; maybe realizing they are better suited as friends with th hope for more or maybe Fox realizing you deserve better… I’m just spitballing. Anyhew … love oo

Regrets

Summary: You break up with Fox, and both of you are suffering for it.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 1724

Prompts: White tulip - new beginnings, Yellow Orchid - Forgiveness

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, I ended up having to change some things from your request to make it something that I'm able to write. Turns out cheating is an unforgivable hardline for me, which is good to know about myself. So I ended up completely dumping that plot idea for something else. I hope you don't mind.

You don’t look up when the chair across from you slides away from the table. You already have a good idea of who’s going to be sitting there.

“Are you here to yell at me too, Commander?” You ask as you pour some more sugar into your caf, take a sip, grimace, and then add even more sugar. It already tastes like caf flavored sugar, but you need the extra energy. Even if it’s cheap energy.

“Buy me a Caf,” Commander Wolffe says, his dark eyes serious as he looks at you, “And something to eat. We need to talk.”

You lift your gaze and scowl at him, but you pull out your credit chit and set it in his hand, “Order what you like, I suppose.”

Wolffe nods and heads to the counter, only to return several minutes later with a large caf and a breakfast sandwich. He hands you your credit chit back as he takes a seat.

You shift and rest your chin on the palm of your hands, “Alright. Lay it on me.”

Wolffe arches a brow, “You expecting something from me?”

“Thorn, Thire, and Stone have already come to yell at me, and they’re not Fox’s twin. You are. So,” you gesture vaguely, “Go ahead. Start yelling.”

“I’m not going to yell at you, sen’ika.” Wolffe says quietly.

“Well, that’s a first.” You mutter.

“I don’t kick people when they’re down.” He continues, his sharp eyes lingering on the dark circles under your eyes, and the sheer amount of sugar you’re adding to your caf. “That’s going to taste awful.”

“Meh.”

“Sen’ika,” He says slowly, quietly, “You’re clearly miserable-”

“I’m fine.” You interrupt.

“You’re not.” There’s a firmness in his voice that stops you from arguing back. “When was the last time you went home?”

“Last night.”

“And slept more than an hour or two?” He asks with a pointed look. 

You look away from him, “It’s…not important.”

“Sen’ika,” His voice is so gentle, “Why did you break up with Fox?”

Your hands fold into fists, “Maybe I was cheating on him. Maybe I wasn’t happy.”

“You might be able to pull the shit with other people,” Wolffe says quietly, “But I saw how happy you and Fox were together. And I know you would never cheat on him. So try again.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I…I refuse to be another burden on him.” You admit quietly.

“Elaborate.”

“You don’t see him after work, Wolffe. He’s so tired. All of the time and some of the bruises and scars…” You trail off, “He was happy with me, yes, but having to hide me from everyone? For my own protection? It was wearing him down. And I can’t, won’t, do that to him.”

“He’s miserable.”

“I know.”

“You’re miserable.”

“I know.”

Wolffe is quiet for a moment, “Is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”

“I will not let him kill himself for me.” You say quietly, “And if that means that I’m on the shitlist for every single member of the guard…then so be it.”

Wolffe doesn’t say anything for a long time, and then he sighs, “I’ll talk to the guard. Tell them to lay off.” He stands and drops a light kiss to the top of your head, “Fox loves you,” He says quietly, “He’s never going to stop loving you. You should at least give him a choice.”

“He’d pick-”

“You. Always you. And we both know it.” He pulls away, “Just think about it, alright? Thanks for the food.” And then Wolffe is gone.

You cast your gaze back to your caf, sigh, and add some more sugar.

Even if you want to talk to Fox, it’ll never happen. Thorn made that plenty clear the other day. And then Thire made it clear later when he came to yell at you on your way home. 

You sigh at your caf, and then you pick it up and down half of it, before you make a face.

Gross.

About a week later, you’re at home, trying to clean up the mess that your house has turned into since you haven’t had energy, or frankly, the will to keep up with it.

According to everything you’ve ever read in your life, time is supposed to heal all wounds, but you’re starting to wonder if that was just something that people said to give themselves hope.

Because you aren’t healing.

In fact, you feel worse than ever.

Bad enough that you’re starting to wonder if you’re actually sick, because a broken heart (a self-inflicted broken heart even) shouldn’t hurt this much, right?

You’re so involved in your cleaning that you don’t hear the knock on the door at first. It’s not until the doorbell rings, startling you bad enough that your vacuum falls from your hands, that you realize you have company.

You look at the mess that is your home and sigh. Maybe they won’t want to come inside?

Carefully, because you had the genius idea of dumping everything you own in the middle of the living room so you can organize it properly, you step over the piles of stuff to get to the door. 

You press the door control to open the door, “Yes? Can I hel-” You stop mid-sentence when you see who’s standing there. “...Fox. Um…I mean, Commander.”

He looks…pissed.

“Let me in.” He bites out.

“We’re not dating anymore, Commander. You can’t order your way into my home.” You offer as you avert your gaze from his face. More than just angry, he looks tired. About as tired as you feel, really.

You hear him exhale sharply, “You’re wearing my shirt, cyare.” Even his voice is tight with anger, “Let me in.”

You glance down at the shirt, his shirt, that you are wearing, and you silently move to the side. “...sorry about the mess.”

“What mes-” He stops as soon as he steps into your apartment, and his jaw drops, “Holy kriff, did a bomb go off in your living room?”

You fold your arms, “I’m deep cleaning.”

“By making a bigger mess?”

“I have a system.”

“Is it working?”

You scowl at him, “I’ll let you know.”

He glances at you, and his lips twitch up into a small smile, before he looks away, as if suddenly remembering that he’s supposed to be angry at you. You avert your eyes as well, it’s easy, far too easy, to fall back into easy bantering with Fox.

You broke up with him.

You told him that you weren’t happy anymore.

You have no right to his time or his smiles.

“I had a chat with Wolffe.”

Oh. 

“He told me something interesting.”

Kriff. You should have sworn Wolffe to secrecy. 

“You broke up with me because you wanted to protect me?” There’s a strange mix of emotions in his voice. Anger, yes. There’s a lot of anger. But there’s also hurt, and something you recognize as affection.

“Wolffe is a kriffing snitch,” You mutter.

“Yeah, well. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to confide in my twin,” Fox points out, “And then he wouldn’t have snitched on you.”

You purse your lips, “See if I ever buy him breakfast again.”

“He came to stop the Guard from harassing you,” Fox says, “I didn’t know that they were harassing you.”

“It’s…fine. I deserved it.”

“You didn’t.”

You sigh and turn your gaze to him, “Why are you here, Fox?”

“Because I love you.”

“That’s-”

He presses a finger against your lips, “Stop and listen.” Fox waits a moment, and as soon as he realizes that you’re going to do as he asks, he adjusts his hand so that his thumb is brushing against your lips. “I love you and I’m not going to give up on us simply because you think you’re a burden.”

“I am a burden. I saw how exhausted you were-”

“I’m more exhausted now.” Fox counters sharply. “Because I’m still trying to keep you safe, only now I have to do it in secret!”

“I never asked-” You start.

“You never had to. It’s what you do when you love something.”

“Fox-”

“I know you think that you’re a burden to me. And I know I’m so tired all of the time, and I know you worry about me all of the time.” Fox says, “But I love you. And you don’t get to decide what’s best for me. Only I get to choose that, and you’re what’s best for me.”

“Fox-,” You repeat his name, feeling tears pricking your eyes.

“I’m happier when I’m with you. You give me a reason to want to wake up in the morning.”

“I hurt you.”

“And I forgive you.”

“Just like that? You were so angry-”

“Of course I was! You broke up with me after deciding what was best for me! I’m pissed about it!” Fox bites out, “But I still love you and I’m willing to accept the fact that you did this because you were worried about me.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Fox repeats, he searches your face, and apparently finds what he’s looking for there, “Cyare, do you still love me?”

“...of course I do.”

“Be my girlfriend again?” Fox asks, “Please. We can start over if you really think we have to. I just…let me be a part of your life. I need you in my life.”

You sigh, softly. How could you say no to that? To him?

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be your girlfriend again.”

“Oh thank kriff,” Fox blurts as he presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, “Can we take a kriffing nap, I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.”

You glance at the pile of stuff on the floor of the living room, and then turn your guilty gaze on Fox, “I think my comforter is in the mess.”

Fox glances at the pile of stuff, and then shakes his head, “No matter.” He carefully scoops you into his arms and steps over the stuff, before he heads into the bedroom and drops you on the bed, before he curls up against you, “Sleep first, everything else later.”

You tuck your head against his chest, and he folds himself around you. And you’re both asleep in a matter of moments.

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes follower celebration #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Midnight Masquerade - Invitation

Summary: You receive a mysterious invitation to an equally mysterious costume party off-world. While you don't normally do things like this, you're glad you decided to attend this party, especially once you realize what you stand to gain.

Warnings: reader is a monsterfucker; monster!clone au; unexplained Force magic potions; alcohol consumption; this intro is pretty tame but minors DNI regardless; individual chapters will be tagged with specific kinks and additional warnings

Word Count: 2.8k

MDFM's masterlist | Suggested listening for this series

You’d been distracted all day, mind fixated on the mysterious invitation and accompanying note you returned home to last night. A simple rectangle of orange paper, the invitation’s words spun dizzying circles in your mind: “Come not as you are...but as you wish to be.” The note, signed simply from “your favorite trooper,” explained that the proclaimed “midnight masquerade” is for a costume party to be held today, off-world—but that’s the extent of the information you know. 

Maker, you don’t normally do things like this. Granted, you don’t often have time to do things like this; working as a senatorial aide leaves much to be desired in terms of a healthy work/life balance. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve been feeling stuck lately, wishing for something greater, something better, something more, to happen to you.

Which brings you here, to the mystery destination. The ship you’d chartered on Coruscant had given you a gorgeous view from space of this planet, a giant crystal ball, glimmering pastel blue in the light of the local star. Up close, though, the landscape is even more breathtaking. Towering spires of crystal glow from the inside in shades of white, blue, and purple. As you step tentatively toward the nearby town, the ground crunches underfoot, as though you walk over a field of tiny crystals. Jaw hanging open, a rush of awed excitement pours through you, electric and hot. 

The town itself looks almost out of place. Curving durasteel and plaster walls clash in harsh juxtaposition with the natural landscape. So far, you’ve seen no signs of other people or the planet’s native inhabitants. Swallowing thickly, you do a full 360. Anxiety begins to churn in your stomach. Thoughts, each darker than the last, chase each other in circles in your mind. In your palm, you clutch the invitation so hard it crumples.

“Hello there,” a singsong, ethereal voice calls.

“Kriff!” You nearly jump out of your skin. 

“I did not mean to startle you,” the voice says. A moment later, a tall, slender being emerges from behind one of the nearby pillars. Skin almost the same shade of blue as the crystal, they smile at you with such otherworldly beauty that you find you can’t breathe properly. Standing easily ten feet tall, they seem to glide forward, robes of pure black draping over their body like shadows, iridescent hair cascading down their back.

“Do you carry an invitation?”

You blink dumbly. “Um. Y-Yes. Here.” You hurry to smooth out the piece of paper before presenting it.

Their cloudy eyes drift serenely down to the paper. “Excellent. Right this way. There are many who have already arrived.”

Turning, they begin to meander towards town. You rush to catch up. As you approach the cluster of buildings, you notice signs of the party that was promised. Bassy music thrums up through the soles of your feet, and the scent of mulled cider tantalizes your nose and taste buds alike. But still a worm of anxiety wriggles within you. 

“Sorry, but, what exactly is this party?”

The strange being’s gaze caresses your face. “It is a most sacred ceremony in celebration of life, during a time in which death is closest. The spirits grow restless; we do our best to placate them through dressing in costume, among other things.”

As a senatorial aide, you’ve had many years’ practice of schooling your expression into polite neutrality. It’s a mask you wear well. You find yourself donning it now. While you don’t discount the possibility of veils between planes, spirits, and the like—not to mention the Force, not with the Jedi constantly in the Senate—you personally harbor no such beliefs. 

“Understood,” you say. 

The being chuckles, a pleasant, tinkling sound, like a wind chime in the evening breeze. “Not yet. But you soon will.” They glide to a halt in front of a large building, from which the sounds and smells of merriment emanate. “Here I leave you.” 

In the time it takes for you to approach the door and turn back to thank your guide, they’ve vanished. A shiver snakes up your spine. “Creepy.”

The blaring, synth-rock music is a physical force to the chest as you push the door open. Where the landscape outside is a swirl of crisp, crystalline blues, the interior is a foggy expanse lit by hues of rich violet, burnt orange, and vivid green. Gnarled, bare trees dot the large room as decoration. Several dozen high-top tables cloaked in tattered cloths are laden with food and drink. 

Perhaps most striking, though, are the dozens upon dozens of troopers in costume. 

Door falling shut behind you, you can’t contain your wide, incredulous smile. As you begin to step toward the dance floor, you catch sight of Mayday, Hexx, and Veetch adorned in identical Frankenstein’s-monster-like face paint. Through a break in the crowd, you spot Kix carrying far too many shots in one hand, dressed as—a slutty nurse? You blink to make sure you saw that right.

Interspersed throughout the crowd are a handful of other nat-borns. You recognize none of them.

Someone grabs your arm. Jerking your head around, you heave a relieved sigh at the familiar sight of Rex. Atop his head rests a wire halo. His body is dressed in a loose, draping white toga, with fluffy white wings protruding from his back.

Your eyebrows shoot up, both in amusement and in genuine joy to see your friend. “Rex! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I lost a bet,” he admits with a cavalier smile. “Come on, we’ve got a spot saved for you.” 

Chest warming at his words (and definitely not at the glimpse of his partially bare, toned torso), you follow eagerly. Around you, costumed clones chatter away, sip drinks, and just generally appear far more relaxed than you’ve ever seen any of them before.

Near the edge of the room, lower tables have been set with seating and peculiar centerpieces. Glowing from within, the vase-like decorations sprout darkened and decaying flowers, stuck through with glitter bats, cats, and pumpkins—an odd assortment for a crystalline planet, but you’re distracted from the thought when you spot the table Rex leads you to. 

“When you said ‘we,’ I thought—”

“Torrent Company?” He flashes a wry grin over his shoulder. “Not quite. Gotta keep you on your toes, mesh’la.”

Squished around a table that is far too small for all of them are another ten troopers. Present are the entirety of Clone Force 99—a rare sight to see them sitting still; Commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox—your knees weaken when you realize you’ve never actually seen Fox without his helmet; and, deep in discussion, Fives and Sister, both of whom you’ve developed budding friendships with.

Rex squeezes into the booth between Cody and Fives. 

Jostled by his captain’s return, Fives glances around. His expression brightens when he sees you. “There’s our favorite aide!” he calls. 

Emboldened by his attention, you snag a nearby chair and pull it up to the last bit of free space at the table. To your left, Wolffe arches one severe eyebrow. His skin shines with a gray pallor, and a dark, twisting crown rises out of his curls. Black robes that look suspiciously like General Koon’s wrap around his body. To your right, Echo, dressed to the nines in a custom-tailored suit with red bowtie, gives you a genuine smile and nod. The rest of the troopers cheer or raise their glasses to you, welcoming you to the party.

“About time you showed up,” Fox deadpans. 

Someone pushes a shot into your hands. “What, didn’t think I’d miss getting blackmail material on you all, did you?”

As the others whoop and holler, Fox fixes you with a flat stare; around his eyes glint realistic scales, painted the same hue of red as his armor. Segmented horns curl up from his graying hair. As he lifts his drink to his lips, you catch the tiniest nod of appreciation from him. Your entire body flushes in satisfaction. 

Maker, this bunch is going to be the death of you.

You let yourself get swept into the current of the conversation. For the most part, you content yourself to listen. Occasionally one of them will ask you for input from a senatorial perspective, and they all seem to value what you have to add. But you’re more than happy just to observe. While each and every one of them are absolute stunners in regular life, tonight they all look divine, glowing with relaxation and costume makeup.

Most of their costumes are easy to parse together. Rex and Cody seem to have coordinated, Cody dressed as a devil to counter Rex’s angelic nature; Hunter has opted to dress as a werewolf halfway in the process of transforming; on Crosshair’s neck you spy two pinpricks of fake blood; Tech has donned a blood-spattered lab coat and swapped his usual yellow-tinted glasses for swirled ones; and the scales on Fox’s bare skin reveal his inner dragon. But you can’t quite pin down what Wrecker, Echo, Sister, Wolffe, and even Fives have dressed as.

With a shrug, you assure yourself you’ll find out at some point. 

You knock back the shot at last and grimace as it burns down your throat. Cody slides you another with a dangerous wink; you raise an eyebrow and shoot him a wink of your own. The deep, pulsing thrum of the music washes through you, and you let it control the rate of your heart. And you miss, or perhaps choose to ignore, the lingering looks they all give you, the ones that trail down your body and study your face with equal intensity. Heat, stoked by their looks and the liquid courage, simmers below your skin. 

The barest hint of an idea begins to form in your tipsy, buzzing brain. 

When Fives shoots you a conspiratorial smirk, raising his glass in a toast to you, you enact the half-formed plan. From the cluster of finger foods at the center of the table, you pluck a skewered olive, lift it to your mouth, and, eyes boring into Fives’s, make a show of licking the salty snack before wrapping your lips around it. Fives sputters and chokes on his drink. 

“Mesh’la,” Wolffe grits out, a warning note in his gravelly voice.

You turn wide, innocent eyes on him. “Something the matter, Commander?”

His grip on his glass tightens, to the point you worry he’s going to shatter it. Resisting the urge to wilt under his mismatched glare, you snag another olive and suck it into your mouth in much the same manner as the first. Wolffe breaks first, glancing away.

Around the table, the rest of them shift in their seats, acting like they didn’t all just watch you practically give head to those poor olives. Stifling a smirk of your own, you lean back, satisfaction lingering in your veins. After a moment, the conversation resumes its ebb and flow around you.

You’re not sure how much time passes before the music quiets and a dreamy, floating voice comes over the speakers. “Revered guests, now is the time for you to decide whether you will cross the shadowed veil and experience another form of living. Potions will be provided for consumption. You may notice that you become more than a mere costume. Be assured, the potion’s effects are temporary.

“One final word of caution: in the case of sexual coupling, it is inadvisable for more than one person to partake of the potion.”

A buzz of confused, excited chatter whispers across the assembled crowd. At the mention of possible intimacy, your skin flushes, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Whoever had been speaking has just dredged up the unspoken thing between you and every person at your table. An idea begins to bloom in your mind, spurred on by the alcohol in your system, the bone-rattling music, the sweet scent of the fog machines, the looks they’ve been giving you all night. You glance, suddenly shy, and find Rex already looking at you with concern slanted across his brow. With a smile, you relax. 

“I’ll get the potions!” Sister clambers out of her seat and disappears into the crowd. She reemerges several minutes later carrying a tray of shot glasses, each filled with a murky, swirling liquid. You grimace at it when she hands you one.

“We’re supposed to drink this?” you mutter, voice drowned out as the music resumes its previous volume. 

Wrecker sniffs at his glass. “It smells nice. Herbal and fruity.” 

Rex catches your attention again. “Maybe just one of us should try it first.”

You’re about to affirm what a good idea that is, when Cody’s gaze shifts from you to someone behind you. Turning, you watch as one of the Wolfpack downs the thick drink in one go. For a moment, nothing happens, and then his entire body shudders violently. You must have blinked, because suddenly he’s no longer fully corporeal, and instead floats a few inches above the ground, his body and clothes gray vapor and mist. You realize with a start that the entire squad is costumed similarly to Wolffe; he’s the only one wearing a crown.

Next to you, Wolffe heaves a sigh at the same time that Fives and Sister gasp out, “Wizard!” The two of them share a conspiratorial grin, then, clinking their glasses together, throw back the mystery shot.

The same odd shudder-and-blink phenomenon happens to them. In place of Fives’s plastic horns and fabric tail are suddenly real, bony horns protruding from his forehead and a writhing, leathery pointed tail. Sister’s nature-themed costume sprouts living flowers. Her braided hair becomes a mass of vines. 

“It appears that the drink turns you into your costume,” Tech observes, one finger raised.

“I would have never known,” Crosshair snarks. He, too, downs his shot. Skin growing paler, the mock wound at his neck dries into faded scars. When he flashes you a smirk, two pointed canines poke from between his lips. Arousal shoots through you with sudden heat, your core clenching.

One by one, the troopers around you down their potions, until you’re the last one left. Mulling over the announcement, you weigh your options. You’d be a liar if you said you haven’t had a few...indecent thoughts since arriving tonight. But you know none of these troopers would hold it against you if you decided to drink the potion and similarly transform.

Twirling the glass in your fingers, you shake your head to clear it and set the drink on the table. 

“I have a proposition for you all,” you say, leaning forward. You preen a little when you see you have their rapt attention. Confidence surges through you, hot and languid and bold. A smile curls over your face.

“I’ve always wanted to know how a monster fucks.” 

For a brief moment, the table remains draped in silence, punctuated only by the nearby raucous shouts of other clones and the heady, bassy music. Then, all at once—

Tech, always aiming for precision: “Technically, we are not monsters, but rather realistic imitations of them.” 

Crosshair, snarky and smug: “Really think you could handle it, doll?”

Cody, one stern eyebrow raised: “Is that so, mesh’la?” 

Sister blushes a wonderful shade of red, giggling as she reaches up to close Fives’s hanging jaw. Hunter squints at you. In the strobing multicolored lights, his eyes seem to reflect like an animal’s. Only Wolffe and Echo seem to have maintained their composure, though you catch the dangerous smirk toying at Echo’s lips.

As the initial outburst of reactions subsides, Fox snorts, a gasp of smoke puffing from his now-elongated snout. “That sure was a funny way of begging, little one.” 

“I only beg for those who earn it, Commander Fox,” you say, a little too sweetly, judging by the way his eyes—dark and reptilian and piercing—rove your features.

Rex clears his throat, drawing your attention back towards him. Your breath catches; in the chaos of everyone transforming into their costumed selves, you’d somehow missed the finer details of Rex’s new form. The fluffy white wings, formerly attached by elastic, now rest gently against his back, shifting as he adjusts in his seat. Floating above his head, casting his face in radiant beauty, the halo burns in a miniature solar flare. 

“All you have to do is say the word, mesh’la,” he says.

Swallowing, the trickling realization of what you’ve gotten yourself into finally sinking in, you shake your head. You dart up from your seat and rush to a nearby trash receptacle. Thankfully, you don’t have to dig, the object you need resting near the top. 

You return to the table with an empty bottle. Eleven near-identical expressions of dismay and confusion clear as you settle back into your seat and rest the bottle on the table in front of you.

“Let’s let fate decide.” 

You spin the bottle, watching, mesmerized and anxious, as it rotates in a blur, before coming to a rest, its neck pointing at...

...Crosshair

...Fives

...Echo

...Sister

...Tech

...Rex and Cody

...Wrecker

...Fox

...Wolffe

...Hunter

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[ghostofskywalker]

🎉Congrats on 3k followers! What a milestone. 🎉

For the celebration, I was wondering if you might write a silly fic about a reader getting proposed to five times on the Star Wars equivalent of New Years Eve. Maybe some clones are trying to get their commander to admit his longstanding feelings for the reader (or whatever scenario you dream up).

thank you so much!! i loved this idea, i hope you enjoy the fic!!

words: 1,986

summary: this celebration only came once a year, and this time, the coruscant guard enlisted some help from other battalions to make sure that fox would finally admit his feelings for you.

@clonexreaderbingo square: "don't ask"

clone troopers masterlist || join my 3k celebration!!

Coruscant Guard's (Unconventional) Dating Service: Free For Clones Named Fox

If you asked Fox about the actions of his troopers, he would shake his head and heave a sigh that could be heard across the galaxy. 

If you asked the rest of Coruscant Guard on the other hand, they’d talk about how they deserve a medal for what they’re doing. 

You see, they had recently began working with a civilian attachment, someone whose whole job was that they were there to help in any way possible, and who was much more proficient at making sure everything was running smoothly than the rest of the Guard was, if Thorn was being honest. You had worked with several different battalions before you had been assigned to them, including the 501st, 327th, and 212th, and his brothers in those legions had nothing but praise for you. He didn’t think he had much to thank the GAR for, because he was stuck working for no pay and interacting with the rudest people in the galaxy on a daily basis, but he did think that she was worth the trouble. 

His commanding officer certainly agreed with his statement, as much as he would never admit to it. It was obvious that Fox held amorous feelings for the new presence in their headquarters, but he was also incredibly stubborn, and he refused to believe anyone who told him that she felt the same way. 

Luckily, Thorn (and the rest of the command squad) weren’t going to let something like this go so easily, and they put their heads together to try and figure out a way to get the two oblivious idiots to finally see what they’ve been missing for months at this point. 

What they settled on was unorthodox, there was no denying that, but he had faith in his fellow troopers, and if nothing else, it was pretty much guaranteed to get a rise out of Fox. 

The party was in full swing when Thorn stepped in, walking with Hound and Stone. At the end of each year there was always celebration, a way to try and forget the war and the worry for a single evening, and whatever battalions were planetside at the time were always invited when the Guard threw their yearly bash. They’d been stockpiling liquor for the past six months, and this year the 501st and the 104th was here to share it with them. 

It also meant that you were going to be there, and there was going to be a lot of people that you hadn’t seen in a while in attendance. 

“Is everything all set up?” Stone asked quietly, as the two of them stared across the room, where you were talking to a clone with blue accents on his armor, smiles on both of your faces. 

Thorn nodded. “Our friends in the 501st were more than happy to help us out, and you know that Wolffe always likes to get a rise out of Fox, so he was easy to convince.”

“Excellent,” Hound responded. “Now we just wait for the fun to begin.”

The three of them began to mingle with the others in attendance, all keeping an eye out for both you and Fox. Finally, it seemed that the first part of the plan was falling into place. 

Feigning interest in whatever Sinker and Boost were telling him about, Thorn watched out of the corner of his eye, where you were being approached by Commander Wolffe. “I just have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful than you,” he said. “What’s your name, because I’m sure it’s just as perfect.” 

Your eyes widened, and Thorn chuckled to himself. Wolffe could be a charmer when he wanted to be, and he had apparently not come to play around tonight. You responded to his question, seeming to have recovered from the surprise rather quickly, and the two of you fell into conversation. 

Thorn couldn’t watch the two of you the whole time without giving away the fact that something was up, so he continued to chat with Sinker and Boost, until eventually he noticed Fox across the room, with a glass of wine in his hand and a tense look on his face. 

A quick glance back at you and Wolffe proved fruitful, you were laughing at something he had said to you, and soon the two of you were walking away from the party together. 

Fox looked annoyed, and there was no way anyone who knew the situation could deny that he was jealous. But this was only the first test, and Thorn knew he was too stubborn to crack on the first shot. He would have to endure more, and they had plans in place for that.

He didn’t see you again for a while, but he passed Wolffe on the way to the bar, and they shared a knowing look. “Well?” Thorn asked. 

“She turned me down,” was the response, and that was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Said she didn’t know me well enough to accept my marriage proposal. Did he see us?” 

Thorn nodded. “It’s all falling into place.” 

“Excellent,” was the response, and Wolffe’s name was called by a few members of his squad. Before he left, he turned to Thorn. “Hey, if this whole thing with Fox doesn’t work out, let me know, because she’s really something special.” 

Thorn just laughed in response. He was pretty sure his plan was going to work, but it was nice to know that Wolffe had taken a liking to you, because you really did deserve the best. 

The next time Thorn caught sight of you, it was Kix that you were conversing with. You had spent quite a bit of time with the 501st legion, so you knew pretty much all the troopers there well, and you were close with Kix. He was the only one that Thorn hadn’t been sure would agree to the plan, but once they had updated him about the situation on Coruscant, the medic had been more than happy to help out. 

Out of all the 501st troopers that Thorn knew personally, Kix was the most down-to-earth, so it wasn’t a surprise that his part of the plan wasn’t done with trumpets and fanfare. He didn’t see it happen, but he ran into you at the table with the snacks, and you had a puzzled look on your face. “Everything alright?” Thorn asked. 

“Yeah,” was your response. “Just some confusing stuff is happening tonight.” 

“Like what?” 

“I’ve been proposed to twice so far tonight, and I’ve barely finished my first drink yet.” 

Thorn tried not to let the smile on his face give him away, so his expression turned to one of false confusion. “And why is that so confusing?” he asked. “I’d propose to you too, if I thought I had a chance. You know what, I don’t care if I do or not.”  He gently took your hand and walked out into the hallway, where he got down on one knee. “I may not have a ring, but will you marry me?” 

Startled, you stared at him. “Why?” 

“Can’t you see how much everyone here loves you?” was his response. “And I’m still waiting for your answer, by the way.” 

He knew what you were going to say. “I can’t-” 

“You can’t marry me, I know,” he said. “I get it, I’m too pretty.” 

The sound of your laughter reassured him that everything was going to be okay between you two. “That’s exactly it, I’m so glad you understand.”

By the time you went your separate ways, Thorn smiled to himself. 

He knew that Fox had watched him take your hand and pull you away from the party. It was only a matter of time before the commander snapped. 

***

Jesse was showier than Kix, and his proposal reflected that. Thorn watched as the ARC trooper spun you around the dance floor, both of you laughing at the moves of the other. From all of the stories that you had shared about the 501st, there were two clones that were pretty much constant presences in your adventures, and those two were going to be the last to propose for a very important reason. 

He watched as Jesse’s mouth formed the words “marry me” (or maybe it was “carry meat,” Thorn’s lip-reading skills were a little rusty) right after he dipped you, and your eyes widened in shock.  

“What is happening out there?” Fox’s voice interrupted Thorn’s observations. 

“I think he just proposed,” was Thorn’s casual response, and Fox’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. 

“What in Maker’s name would possess him to do that?” 

Thorn shrugged. “I don’t know, but when I was talking to her before, she said that like two others have proposed tonight as well. And then of course I had to throw my hat into the ring-” 

Now, the marshal commander of the Coruscant Guard looked like he was ready to hit something. “You what?” 

“Don’t worry, she turned me down,” Thorn said, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “But you still have some other competition in the 501st, so you really should make a move before it’s too late.”

Fox heaved a sigh. “How many times have I told you that I don’t have feelings for her like that?” 

“At this point sir, I’ve lost count, but I’m surprised you’re not tired of lying yet.” 

“I’m serious-” 

But whatever Fox was about to say was interrupted by a commotion nearby as you and Jesse walked back towards the 501st, right past where Thorn was standing. “She turned me down!” Jesse had called to Kix, who was watching with an amused smile on his face. 

“Well obviously,” a new clone had entered the conversation, and Thorn just smiled as Fives stepped closer to where you were standing. “It’s because she’d rather marry me than any of you di’k-”

That was it for Fox. Without thinking of the fact that they were still in the middle of a party (and how much Thorn was going to make fun of him for lying about his feelings), Fox put down his drink, gently touching your hand as you passed by. When you turned to him with an inquisitive look on your face, he didn’t bother to respond before taking your face in both of his hands and placing a firm kiss on your lips. 

You melted almost immediately, and after a while, it was honestly a little inappropriate how passionately you and Fox had locked lips, considering you were still in the main room of the party. 

When you finally pulled apart (thankfully it was before Thorn had to take matters into his own hands), Fox looked a little bit sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he said, slightly breathless from the way he had just made out with you. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking, I just-” 

But instead of answering, you just leaned in to kiss him again. 

In order to avoid any pressing questions from either of you about his involvement in things that may or may not have been planned tonight (and honestly, it was getting a little weird to keep staring for as long as he had been), Thorn stepped away and headed over to the bar to get another drink. 

There, he found Captain Rex, a puzzled look on his face. “What-” 

“I think it’s better you just don’t ask.” 

He nodded. “You know what? I think you’re right.” 

After getting himself another glass of wine, Thorn looked around the room, catching the gazes of Hound, Stone, and Thire, who all raised their glasses at him. Mission accomplished was the unspoken phrase of the moment. 

He just hoped that the two of you didn’t mistake his office door for Fox’s if  you decided to sneak away from the party, because he really didn’t want to have to deal with that.

- the end -

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#3k celebration requests! 🏖 #CFB2023 #commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #clone trooper x reader #clone wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #fox x reader #commander fox x female reader

[sev-on-kamino]

Mind Your Manners - Kinktober 2023 vol. 2

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader

Warnings: orgasm denial, authority kink, glove kink, the armor stays on, the helmet stays on, rough sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie, oral (m receiving), it’s kinktober so don’t look at me like that 😌 MINORS DNI

Word count: 1468

A/N: I’m not super happy with this one because it feels incomplete without all the backstory I love so much, but I’m way behind schedule, so I’m gonna stop fiddling with it. I hope y’all enjoy it! 💙💙

dividers by the badass @dystopicjumpsuit

You had an attitude and a smart mouth, and there was no one you loved sassing more than Fox. His position of authority turned you on almost as much as it encouraged you to test his patience at every opportunity.

His patience was legendary among the troopers, and it even took Thorn’s best efforts to really make him snap. You never managed it though. Maybe it was his eternal soft spot for you, the fact that he loved you, or simply that you never truly got under his skin that way.

You were determined though.

You spent the entire day making little remarks, being sarcastic, talking back, and flat out teasing him when nothing worked. It was you who snapped.

“How are you doing this?” you asked exasperated.

“Doing what?” he asked without looking up from his report.

“Dealing with me. I’ve been so…so obnoxious today.”

“It’s easy,” he said, tapping away on his datapad. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You do?” Your shoulders slumped, and you pouted slightly.

“Mesh’la, you’re not subtle. Never have been.”

“Give me what I want then.”

He looked up then, surprising you like he always did with how much attitude he could convey with his helmet on.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for…”

“Yes, I do,” you challenged, leaning over to plant your hands on his desk. “Your subordinate is misbehaving, commander. Discipline her.”

Fox laid his datapad down softly before rising from his chair. He tapped a space farther forward on his desk with two gloved fingers.

“Hands here,” he ordered, using the same tone he used to command the Guard. No one questioned Fox when he used that voice. “Don’t move. Don’t say another word.”

You slid your hands forward, pressing your hips against the edge of the desk. The commander watched your movement with interest, noting with pleasure how quickly you complied.

“Now, it appears I have a problem on my hands,” Fox said, walking around behind you, causing you to look over your shoulder to steal a glance at him. “Eyes front, and that is your first and last warning.”

Your head snapped back into place, as you bit your tongue to resist the urge to say ‘yes, sir’ like you always did.

“As I was saying. I have a problem. That problem is a cocky little thing who needs a firm hand,” Fox said, resting a large hand on your ass. You exhaled sharply, biting the inside of your cheek to stay quiet, to keep the soft moan on the tip of your tongue in check.

“Can’t spank her. She likes that too much,” Fox said, swatting your butt lightly. “Can’t keep her under my desk with my cock in her mouth while I finish my reports either.”

You shifted, squeezing your thighs to get just a little friction. Fox reacted instantly, tapping your instep with the toe of his boot to make you widen your stance. You huffed in annoyance, as there was now no chance of any accidental stimulation to soothe the ache between your legs.

That little sound was enough to give Fox a wicked idea. He was going to give you exactly what you wanted and what you deserved.

“Strip,” he ordered.

Turning to face him, you noted he still had his full kit on. Down to his blasters resting in their holsters. Your fingers shook with anticipation, as you carefully removed and folded your clothes before placing them on the corner of Fox’s desk.

“Very good, little one,” Fox said, sounding almost pleased. “Won’t save you, but it helps. Resume your position.”

You complied slowly, making sure to arch your back and wiggle your hips, as you got back into place.

You felt Fox’s gloved fingers feather light against your swollen little bud of nerves, and without thinking, you pushed back to seek more friction. His free hand shot out to grab your hip and hold you still. His questing fingers ventured through your folds, and he groaned softly feeling how aroused you were.

“Want it so badly, don’t you?” He asked, causing your jaw to clench as you resisted answering. Instead you tapped once on the surface of the desk. Green for go.

You squirmed when you felt the fabric of his glove against your entrance.

“Want your needy little cunt filled,” he said, as he pushed his finger inside you.

You shook with the effort of staying still, while Fox worked one, then two of his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. A whimper escaped you, as his thumb began to rub gentle circles over your clit.

“Easy, mesh’la.”

You took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply when Fox pulled his fingers away.

“Making a mess already,” he said, moving to stand next to you, and tapping his fingers against your lips.

Your mouth fell open and you took the offered digits, working your tongue over the fabric of the glove to clean all your arousal off of them. Satisfied with your work, he took his place behind you once more, and made a point to place his codpiece on the desk where you could see it.

“Not a single word,” he reminded you before pressing the head of his cock to your slick entrance.

It took all of your effort not to cry out as your pussy stretched to accommodate him. He didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed in your silky heat, and his thigh plates were pressed into the soft flesh of your thighs, sending a shiver down your spine.

“My little brat is so tight for me. So wet.”

He pulled back, agonizingly slowly and pushed forward. Hard. You exhaled sharply, fingers curling against the surface until your fingernails dug into your palms.

“Want more?” he asked, causing you to tap the desk again.

Fox showed no mercy, driving into you with a steady rhythm, his fingers occasionally dancing over your clit, causing you to slip closer and closer to the edge. Before you could reach the point of bliss, he’d pull his hand away.

The head of his cock would rub that sensitive place inside you, that had you whining low in your throat. Your body would tense, the coil of pleasure tightening in your core, only for him to shift his angle, and leave you shaking with desperation.

“You sound frustrated,” Fox purred. “If you want to come, say so.”

It was a trap, you knew it was a trap. You stayed silent.

“No? Good. See, bad girls can have as much cock as they want, but only good girls get to come.” One of his hands slid up your body to pinch and tug at one of your hard nipples before cupping the soft flesh and gently squeezing it in his powerful hand.

A groan of desperation clawed its way out of your throat.

“You wanted discipline. You’re getting it,” he grunted out, as he continued laying siege to your needy body.

Fox released your breast to wrap his arm around your torso and pull you back against his armored chest. His grip tightened on your hip, as his thrusts grew harder yet more erratic. You rolled your hips, which he allowed, but he kept your legs spread. Your clit was desperate for his attention.

“Don’t stop, mesh’la. Use that sweet little cunt of yours to give me what I want.”

You continued to work your hips, while soft groans floated out through his vocoder. You weren’t allowed to come, but you’d be damned if you didn’t please your commander.

He swore under his breath, as he came deep inside you, tightening his hold on you, as he let you take every drop. He gently guided you back to the desk, as he pulled his cock from your body.

You whined as his cum dripped from your denied pussy down your thighs.

“On your knees,” he ordered. “You need to clean up the mess you made.”

You eagerly fell to your knees and licked his cock clean, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He helped you back to your feet, before pulling his helmet off and giving you a soft kiss in sharp contrast to the way he’d just used your body to get himself off.

“You can talk now, love. Sit up on the desk, so I can get you cleaned up,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before going to grab water and a wet cloth.

“That was so mean, Fox,” you pouted, still feeling almost painfully aroused and desperate for release.

“I gave you what you asked for,” he countered, passing you a canteen. “You can be patient and come tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You asked incredulously.

“Fall in line and behave, or it’ll be two more days,” he warned.

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

taglist: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @808tsuika @sleepingsun501 @starrylothcat @ladyzirkonia @wings-and-beskar @pb-jellybeans @clio3kantarella @staycalmandhugaclone @stardusthuntress @idontgetanysleep @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @mandos-mind-trick @amorfista @kimiheartblade @freesia-writes @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @mooncommlink @1vlouds @moonlightwarriorqueen @starqueensthings @dangraccoon @idoubleswearimawriter @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @dreamie411

#kinktober 2023 #commander fox x reader #tcw fox x reader #fox x reader #tcw fox #commander fox #x reader #reader insert #seven writes

[coffeeandbatboys]

I had an absolute adhd moment so I made something short and fluffy and cuddly for @moonlightwarriorqueen who chose Fox (with no context). I literally put my fic writing playlist on and went wild.

Warnings: prepare for all the cuddles.

Fox x Fem!Reader

You dropped your head into your hands, trying to block out everything that had been going on.

“Mesh’la?” Fox asked from beside you. He reached over to turn off the holo that you’d been watching together.

You peeked through your fingers to see a concerned face gazing at you. With a sigh, you leaned into his shoulder.

“There’s just a lot going on, Fox.” You muttered. “It’s not that I didn’t want to watch the holo. I guess I just need to zoned out?”

A soft smile graced his lips and he pulled you closer to him, practically into his lap as he shifted to get more comfortable. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and placed a kiss there. He smelled like Caf and plastoid, and interesting but unique mix that belonged solely to your trooper.

“Now I can’t have my girl down in the ditches, can I? What’s she doing with me anyways? She’s practically a goddess. Force knows I could be mistaken for a wild tooka.”

A blush crept up your neck and flushed out on your cheeks. He was an absolutely gorgeous man.

“Fox,” You giggled. “You’re close enough to perfect for me.”

“I try, thank you Mesh’la.”

Your laughter bubbled up once again. You sighed into his skin as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, and in a low whisper he promised his love for you.

“I love you so, so much, Cyar’ika. You wouldn’t believe me if I could show you.”

You hugged him, pulling yourself impossibly closer to his chest.

“Maker, I love you too. Thank you for making life a little better.”

“Ain’t that my job?”

#star wars #fox x fem!reader #marshall commander fox #tcw fox #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #commander fox #fox #commander fox x fem!reader #clone troopers x reader