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the-bad-batch-baroness · 10 months

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Lean On Me

Kix x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're out dancing with your friends when you sustain a knee injury and Kix comes to your rescue.

Pairing: Kix x Fem!Reader

Characters: Kix

Tags & Warnings: 18+, established relationship, alcohol, mention of past injury, minor injury, domestic fluff, romance, a little angst, hurt/comfort, mild suggestive themes, non-sexual shower scene, implied nudity

Word Count: 6.1k

Author's Note: Due to an unexpected knee injury, my fic writing schedule has been thrown out of whack and I wrote this instead of the ten other fics in my queue. Still a bingo square down, so I don’t feel too bad. Fic is based on a real injury that happened to me four days ago. How the reader got the injury is how I got the injury. Self-indulgent, because I wanted Kix to kiss it and make it better, but it got away from me. As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Kix

It’s a gorgeous summer evening as you bustle around your apartment while getting ready for your night out. You playfully slide across the linoleum kitchen floor in your socks and stop abruptly at the calendar hanging on the wall. You grab a red marker from the adjacent drawer, pull the cap off with your teeth, and cross off today’s date. You flip backwards through the calendar and look at the sea of red adorning the previous pages and let out a small sigh.

Each red slash marks one rotation of Kix’s deployment. It’s already been sixty rotations since he shipped out, but a smile creeps onto your lips as you flip the calendar back and focus on the large red circle four rotations away. Kix had sent word two weeks prior that the 501st were finally coming home and he gave you an estimated date of his return. You’re excited for him to come home, but each rotation seems to linger longer than the last as you wait impatiently.

Nevertheless, at least for tonight, you’ve decided not to dwell on how much you miss him. Instead, you’re preparing yourself for a fabulous girl’s night out. You and your friends have been planning this excursion for a couple weeks now and you’re thrilled to finally get out, party, and unwind. It’s not something you do often, especially without Kix, but this night was just for the girls, so no boys are allowed. It’s only about you and your friends having a good time.

As the time for you to leave approaches, you pull off your loungewear and slide on a playful emerald green dress that you purchased for the occasion. It’s not sexy by any means, but it’s fun and perfect for a night out with friends. You slip on your favorite pair of flats and sit in front of your mirror to style your hair while humming a happy little tune. You adorn your ears with a simple pair of earrings and give yourself a little spritz of your white gardenia perfume.

As you finish up your look for the evening, you hear a knock at your apartment door. You wonder if it’s the neighbor down the hall. She’s an elderly woman that you help out every once and a while. She’s really sweet and loves to tell stories of her younger days when you get lonely. You announce that you’re coming and make your way to the door. You press the button to open it and your eyes grow wide at the unexpected sight before you, a clone trooper in full armor.

“Kix!” you exclaim as you throw yourself into his outstretched arms. You nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe in his musk and vetiver cologne that instantly intoxicates you.

“Hello beautiful,” he purrs while dropping his duffle to squeeze you tightly, pressing a desperate kiss on your neck while savoring your alluring floral scent.

You lean your head back to look up at his face, his amber eyes just as warm and piercing as you remember. “I wasn’t expecting you,” you admit with excitement.

“We got back a little early,” Kix explains. He gives you a soft kiss on the cheek and you smile. “I wanted to surprise you.” He leans you back a little, running his hands up and down your bare arms, while his eyes gaze upon your dolled up body. “This isn’t for me is it?” he inquires with a chuckle.

“Oh, this?” you look down at yourself and remember what you were doing before he came home. “I was going out with the girls tonight, but I don’t have to!” you quickly rebut. “I can stay here.” As much as you have been waiting for this night out, you are completely ready to ditch all of your plans to spend it with the fine man standing in front of you.

“Out of the question,” he shakes his head. “Go out with your friends and have a good time. I’ll be here when you get back.” He presses a tender kiss to your forehead and a small whine escapes your lips when he lets you go. He picks up his duffle and heads into the apartment, sighing in relief at finally being home. You lean against the doorway, smiling as you watch him instantly meld back into domestic life as if he never left.

“If you keep staring at me like that, your eyes are going to get stuck,” Kix jests without turning around. He can feel your gaze resting on him and knows you won’t leave without a little nudge. You huff through your nose at his intuition and grab your purse from the stand next to the door. You amble over to give Kix a goodbye kiss and he swats your butt when you turn to leave. You whip around and shoot him a surprised look, but he just smirks. “Get out of here!”

You shake your head at his playfulness and head out the door with a small wave of your hand. The place where you’re meeting your friends isn’t too far, so you decide to walk since the evening air is pleasant. You take your time strolling along the sidewalk, thinking only about what you’re going to do when you get home. You want to stay in the present and have a good time with your friends, but it proves difficult knowing your handsome man is waiting for you at home.

You finally make it to the meeting spot, a little dance club that has great reviews. Your friends see you coming and greet you with excited waves. You quicken your steps to close the distance and exchange hugs all around. You enter the club with your friends and make your way to the bar first. You order something light, a simple sangria. The goal is to have fun, not get wasted, and you want to enjoy your night out and have a blast with your girlfriends.

The rhythmic beats emanating from the speakers vibrate under your feet and traverse up your legs as you wait for your drink. You close your eyes and let it encapsulate all of your senses. You love the deep bass and the way it makes your body feel. The way it makes your heart beat faster in anticipation and excitement. The way it rumbles into your core in the same manner as Kix’s voice when he moans sweet nothings of desire against your body.

You’re pulled out of your daydream by a clink of glass when your sangria is placed down in front of you. Feeling slightly embarrassed at your lewd thoughts, your face flushes pink as you thank the bartender. You take a few sips of the cold, fruity, wine drink and let out a sweet sigh. It’s refreshing and helps cool you down in the hot club. You leisurely sip on your drink as you chat with your friends at the bar, occasionally falling into a fit of laughter from your growing buzz.

Your ears perk up when you hear the bass of your favorite song. Your heart races, and you grab one of your friends to pull them out onto the dancefloor with you. You sway your bodies to the beat, waving your arms over your heads, laughing, and smiling at how silly you’re being. The song switches, and now you’re jumping up and down in a crowd of people doing the same. Everyone’s energy is feeding off each other and you jump around with reckless abandon.

As the song continues, you pant heavily as sweat droplets disperse from your body at your rapid movements. You slow down as you feel your calves burning from all the jumping, and it becomes a sudden reminder that you need to exercise more often, because clearly you're out of shape. You finally stop jumping to catch your breath, and you bend over to rub your screaming muscles. You straighten yourself up and see your friends wave you over to where they’re sitting.

You plop down in the booth with an exhaustive exhale and order another sangria to help you cool off. Your friends ordered some finger foods for everyone to pick at throughout the night and you dive into the greasiest and saltiest looking thing that was brought out. You start chatting with your friends, laughing hysterically at the jokes you make, leaning playfully on each other, and enjoying their company. You dance a little more, drink and eat a little more, and chat a little more.

You check your chronometer and realize several hours have passed, and you think now is a good time to head out before you’re too tired to walk home. You let your friends know and begin scooting yourself towards the edge of the booth. As you straighten yourself up, something doesn’t feel right. Your left knee feels strange. You try to walk a little, but your knee won’t bend or straighten. It doesn’t hurt, but rather it feels as if something is stuck under your kneecap.

You try to walk forward, but you end up limping. Your friends take notice and ask if you’re alright. You’re not sure how to answer them, but you know you can’t walk home like this. You hobble backwards and sink back down into the booth. Your face downtrodden at your awful luck. Your friends offer to call you a cab, but you're not sure what you want to do. You debate whether or not to comm Kix, but knowing your medic boyfriend, he would be furious if you didn’t try to reach him.

Regret washes over you when he answers in that groggy, sleepy voice he gets after waking up in the morning, but he brushes away your apologies. You explain the situation to him and he asks a few simple questions. He doesn’t sound worried, but you can tell the wheels aren’t completely turning in his head yet. He directs you to stay put and says he’ll come get you. You smile and exchange ‘I love yous’ before ending the call. You sigh in relief and await his arrival.

It doesn’t take long for Kix to appear on scene. You see him come through the entrance, in full gear no less, and you wave him over. He has a stern look on his face and walks deliberately, quickly closing the distance between the two of you. You barely let out a small greeting before he slides his hands around your back and legs and lifts you up into his arms. You’re taken aback by the sudden and silent gesture and instinctively wrap your hands around his neck to hang on.

“Kix,” you chuckle playfully as he walks toward the exit of the club. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to the GAR clinic,” he answers without moving his eyes to meet yours. His fierce gaze is locked on its heading.

“It’s 23:00 hours,” you remind him as you wave goodbye to your friends. “They’re closed.”

“Nothing is closed if you have a key,” Kix retorts, a smirk flashes across his face, but is gone as quickly as it came. He raises his foot to push the club door open and his armor-covered thigh glides across your bottom. You inhale sharply at the swift movement, but Kix doesn’t notice as he carefully maneuvers you both through the opening before it swings shut.

“Don’t you think that’s a little excessive?” you question in a stutter as your face flushes. He doesn't answer. “It’s twelve blocks away!” you try to convince him of the absurdity of him carrying you for such a distance, but he still doesn’t answer or waver from his course.

His face is trained forward, focused solely on his mission and nothing else. You know that look, that gaze. The one he gets when he automatically falls into combat mode. His expression becomes serious and determined. It’s like a switch, and his ability to flick it on and off amazes you every time. It doesn’t matter the situation, when his training kicks in he becomes unstoppable and immovable, and it’s one of the qualities you admire most about him.

As Kix walks down the street towards the GAR clinic, a cool breeze blows through and hits your sweaty skin sending a shiver through your body. Kix notices you shudder and grips you tighter against his chest to keep you warm, cursing under his breath that he didn’t bring you something better to wear. In his groggy haze after your comm, he forgot you wore a dress tonight and left the apartment with just his gear and blaster, as if this situation even called for a blaster.

He gives you an apologetic kiss on the forehead and continues your journey towards the GAR clinic. The walk is mostly silent, with just the serenade of rhythmic crickets filling in the void. You want to say something, maybe tell him to take a break, but he would never listen. You wonder how his arms haven't fallen off yet at carrying you for such a distance. He doesn’t even sound winded. You start to feel bad about the situation and doubt creeps into your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper while burrowing your face into his neck, a small tear escaping your eye and dissipating into the black fabric of his body suit.

Kix stops walking, tosses you up a little to readjust your position in his arms and continues walking. You thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t. You wonder if he’s mad at you and the destructive thoughts begin swirling endlessly in your mind. All of sudden, you’re second guessing everything about your relationship with Kix. What if you’re too much for him? What if he’s getting tired of you? What if he wants a less accident prone girlfriend?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further out of control, Kix speaks up. “I’ve carried heavier for longer distances,” he reassures. “This is nothing.” He pulls your torso up a little higher and nuzzles your face softly with his cheek before bringing you back down to the comfortable carrying position. You breathe a sigh of relief and rest your head once again on his shoulder, letting the warmth and calmness of his body relax and comfort you.

Not long after the short exchange, Kix stops walking again, but this time it’s because you’ve finally made it to the GAR clinic. You look up at the familiar sight, where the two you first met, and smile briefly at the memory. The clinic is dark, which is what you would expect at this late hour. Kix shifts your weight so he can grab his clinic access card from his pouch and swipes it. The door whooshes open and the lights automatically turn on as you enter the lobby.

Kix swipes his access card again to gain entrance to the secured medical facility, and instead of carrying you to one of the exam rooms, he brings you straight back to the x-ray room. You still think the whole thing is overkill, but you trust that he knows best. He carefully sets you down on a chair, kisses your cheek, and maneuvers the x-ray machine and your knee to get the pictures he needs. His biggest worries are a tear, fracture, or dislocation and he won’t feel satisfied until he knows for sure.

You sit still for him while he takes the x-rays, scrunching your face periodically at the stiffness and aching you feel in your kneecap. It’s becoming more and more uncomfortable the longer you sit with it bent at this angle, but this is where Kix wants it, so you stay put. You turn your head and look through the window of the tech room and watch as he works. He’s completely focused and engrossed in what he’s doing as he flicks switches and taps on the data-pad.

You continue to watch as he projects the holo x-ray and puts his hands on his hips as he studies it. You’re starting to feel nervous about the outcome and wonder how badly you injured your knee. Your breath quickens and you let out a small grunt at the pain in your knee. You lean over to rub it and glance back through the window at Kix. He switches off the holo-projection and turns around to look at you with a small smile. You really hope that’s a good sign.

Kix makes his way back to where you’re sitting and gets on one knee in front of you. Without saying a word, he lifts your injured leg gently, fully extends it, then fully bends it, focusing carefully on the movement and your expressions. He rotates your leg to the right, then to the left, presumably to check your mobility. It didn’t particularly hurt when he moved it, but it didn’t feel great either. He then takes his thumb and presses it just below your kneecap.

“Ouch!” you cry with a sharp inhale and recoil your leg from his touch.

“Bingo,” Kix states as he gets up from the floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask while rubbing your knee, slightly offended at his painful test.

“Patellar tendinitis,” Kix answers with a relieved smile.

“Galactic standard, please?” you question, unsure of the medical terminology.

Kix chuckles and gives you a kiss on the cheek. “It means the tendon that connects your kneecap to your shin bone is swollen. It’s an easy fix with some anti-inflammatories, an icepack, and rest.”

“How did I do that?” you wonder aloud. All you wanted to do was have a fun night out with your girlfriends and here you are sitting in a clinic with a knee injury.

“Were you jumping?” Kix inquires while crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall behind him.

You purse your lips, almost embarrassed to answer him. “Maybe, a little.”

Kix raises an eyebrow at your sheepish answer. He always knows when you’re lying. It’s one of his unfortunate special powers.

“Okay, maybe a lot,” you answer while looking down, not wanting to meet his piercing gaze.

Kix sighs and shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be jumping like that when you have a previous knee injury.”

“But, I just wanted to have fun!” you protest as your emotions flow through your words unabated. “I just want to dance and have a good time like every other girl gets to do.”

Kix frowns, pushes himself off the wall, and sits next to you on the x-ray table. He slides a strong arm around your back to pull you against his side and leans his head atop yours. He takes your hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses the back of it. “I know, cyare,” he soothes in a low rumble. “I know.”

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, feeling defeated and betrayed by your own body. The previous knee injury wasn’t even your fault, and it happened so long ago, you didn’t even think about it while you were out with your friends. It’s funny how quickly your body reminds you of how truly broken it really is. You wish your body could do what everyone else’s can but this blatant reminder fills your heart with a type of grief that will never leave and your eyes well with tears.

Kix is quick to notice and wipes them away before they get a chance to fall from your flushed face. He knows you try. He knows you want to have fun. He knows you want nothing more than to be normal. And he knows how much it hurts you when you can’t, but there’s nothing he can do about it. You stay in each other’s embrace for several more minutes, silently exchanging invisible words of hurt and comfort, with light sniffles and soft kisses being the only sounds heard.

Kix pays close attention to your body language, waiting for when you're ready, and not a moment too soon. He feels your heartbeat slow, your breathing moderate, and your body finally relaxing into his. “Do you want to go home?” he asks.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

Kix kisses the top of your head and stands up. He stretches out his hand and you grab it to help hoist yourself up to stand on the floor. You wince at the discomfort in your knee and limp forward a step. Kix puts his other hand on your back to steady you, and you breathe out a small thanks before continuing to limp forward. Unsatisfied with your struggling, Kix bends over to wrap one arm around your legs and the other around your back, cradling you into his arms like before.

You sigh and roll your eyes at his selfless, albeit reckless, gesture. “You can’t carry me all the way home too. That’s even farther!”

Kix smirks at your challenge. “Watch me.”

The journey home is much more light-hearted than the walk to the GAR clinic. You can tell Kix is relaxing as he steps down from medic-mode and steps into boyfriend-mode. He asks you more questions about your night out with your friends and you regale him with exaggerated tales of your womanly wiles. You both laugh at your wild stories and he tells you a couple funny ones from his time on deployment.

It must be quite the sight at 02:00 hours, two people laughing hysterically while strolling down the street, one carrying the other. People probably think you’re drunk, but neither of you care about their opinions. You're finally getting a chance to be together after being separated for such a long time. It doesn’t matter the circumstance, just the closeness, the fondness, and the affection are what you need. His gentle touch, his strong heartbeat, his deep voice, it’s all that matters to you.

Kix rounds the corner of the street your apartment is on and you hear him huff. The long distance and exhaustion is finally getting to him, but he is determined to finish strong. He shifts your weight in his arms to get a better grip and you smile at his tenacity, rewarding his efforts with a sweet kiss on his cheek. He makes the final stretch and pulls out your apartment key card, swiping it to open the door to your home.

He carries you through the doorway, past the kitchen, and into the bedroom, laying you gently on the bed, before flopping backward onto it himself with a heavy sigh of relief. You roll onto your side to face him and prop your head up on your elbow. “Are you okay?” You chuckle as you run your other hand over the stubble of his shaved head.

“I just need a minute,” Kix breathes, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion. “And a shower.”

“I could use one too,” you realize after thinking about your night out before you injured yourself. There’s no way you can go to sleep with all that ick covering your body, but you wonder how well you can shower yourself with your knee hurting so badly. You imagine all the ways you can brace yourself to wash your hair and how hopping on one foot works in a slippery bathtub.

“We can take one together,” Kix suggests as if he’s reading your mind. He turns his head to look at you, waiting for your answer.

You raise an eyebrow in response. It’s not that you don’t want to, in fact, you’d love to, but not now, not like this. This isn’t the time for that. You're in pain and you don’t want to play around. You just want a shower, and only a shower, nothing else.

“What?” he asks, feigning feelings of hurt that you think he would take advantage of you in your injured state. “I need a shower, you need a shower, and you obviously can’t do it on your own.”

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at his assessment, feeling offended that he would say something like that, even though it was the same conclusion you came to only moments earlier. You think about it a little more, and you hate to admit it, but it does make sense. You're both exhausted and disgusting, so a shower must be taken at some point. You sigh in defeat and begrudgingly agree to shower together, but you stipulate no funny business.

Kix agrees to your terms and conditions without hesitation, because, honestly, he doesn’t want to do anything either, but it’s more fun if you think he does. He loves to see that flustered look on your face and watch as you get defensive and straightforward with him. He smirks at your empty threats as you rattle off all the things you would do if he crosses even one line, and he laughs at your playful smacks on his arm when he tosses out a lewd joke.

“Kix,” you stretch the pronunciation of his name out to show your annoyance.

“Alright,” he concedes while still laughing. “Are we doing this or what?”

“Yes,” you answer with a sigh. “We’re doing this.”

Kix smiles and heaves himself up from the bed with a grunt.

“You sound like an old man,” you jest with a snort and start to giggle.

Kix turns around and furrows his brows. “If you weren’t injured, I’d–”

“You’d what?” you quickly cut him off, daring him to answer.

He takes a deep breath and lets his thoughts dissipate. “Never mind.” You both laugh at yourselves, obviously too tired to think straight. “Come on,” he beckons. “Shower time.”

Kix starts by removing his armor piece by piece and neatly piling it in the closet. He then peels his sweaty blacks off and tosses them towards the laundry hamper, but they land hanging halfway out. He shrugs at them and leaves the room to turn the shower on. You then slip your dress over your head and also toss it towards the hamper, but you sigh at your terrible aim as the hamper topples over. You shrug at the mess and decide to worry about when you have more energy.

Kix comes back to get you, and frowns as he watches you rub your knee. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while and he wishes he could do something to alleviate your pain besides medicine and ice. He walks over to the edge of the bed and kneels down in front of you. You raise an eyebrow, wondering what he’s going to do, but you give him the benefit of the doubt. He slides his hand along the outside of your shin, snakes his fingers under your knee, lifts it to his face, and kisses it tenderly.

“I’ve heard kisses make boo-boos better,” Kix whispers against your knee, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. He recoils apologetically at your body’s reaction. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him with a soft chuckle and a sincere smile. What he did was a sweet gesture and you had no qualms with it. You wish his kisses had the magical power to take all your pain away, and sometimes it feels like they can, but there are some things that kisses cannot fix. However, you play along and feed into his heartfelt attempt. “My knee already feels better.”

Kix smiles knowingly, gets up from the floor, and comes alongside you. He reaches one arm around your back to support you, and grabs your hand with his free one. You brace yourself against his strong hold and pull yourself up from the bed. You hobble forward a little, trying not to put pressure on the injured knee, and Kix steadies you. You lean against his toned body and limp toward the refresher, wincing at the discomfort.

Once in the refresher, you toss your undergarments aside and Kix picks you up to lift you over the raised side of the tub and places you down into the warm spray. You grab the small railing on the side to steady yourself, and give Kix a nod to let him know he can let go. He slowly takes his hands off you, making sure to watch if you falter. As he sees you holding yourself up, he gets into the shower and joins you under the hot water.

Kix places his hands on your hips and pulls you back against his bare chest. “Lean on me, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear.

You don’t hesitate to take him up on his offer as you release the railing and let his strong arms hold you up. You’ve built up enough trust with him that you’re not afraid for a single moment whether he’ll drop you. You know that when you’re in Kix’s arms, there’s nothing that can touch you, there’s nothing that can hurt you, and there isn’t a force in the galaxy that can pry you away from him. There’s no fear when you’re with Kix. Some call it possession, but you call it safe.

You let the hot water roll over your face, your hair, and down your body for several minutes before grabbing your shampoo bottle. You squeeze a little onto your palm and lather it up in your hair. Kix leans his head back to keep it from getting in his eyes and you giggle as he blows away the bubbles forming in your hair. You rinse the shampoo out of your hair, add some conditioner, then grab your body wash and loofah.

It’s a little awkward, the two of you tangled up as you try to wash the dirt off your body, but he tries to maneuver you into different positions to reach different spots. At one point, he was holding you with one hand and scrubbing you gently with the other. You wonder how he does it. How he could be so strong and unyielding in the field, yet so gentle with you. He holds you like a fragile piece of glass even though he could crush you with a single flex of his muscles.

You finish cleaning all the nooks and crannies of your body and rinse out the conditioner from your hair. Now, it’s Kix’s turn to get the water he’s been waiting so patiently for. He moves you both forward, so you're past the shower’s spray and he’s directly under it, pressing one hand against the back of the shower for you to lean against. He groans with pleasure under the water’s cascading heat and the vibration echoing from his chest sends a shiver down your body.

Kix notices you shivering, and makes quick work of cleaning himself up, thinking your cold from being outside the water’s warmth. He switches hands for you to lean against so he can clean everywhere he needs to, and rinses the soap off his skin just as fast. You feel bad that he didn’t get to spend more time under the water, but he reassures you that as a soldier he’s used to quick showers and this was more than enough for him to feel satisfied.

Kix turns the water off, leans out to pull a towel off the rack, and wraps it loosely around your damp skin. He tussles the towel to help you dry off and you start giggling. He smiles at the happy little sounds you’re making and gives you a chaste kiss on the nose. Once satisfied that you’re not shivering anymore, he gets out of the tub, picks you up to lift you over the side, and gently places you back onto the ground.

He makes sure you're steady, then grabs another towel from the rack, pats himself off, and wraps it around his waist in a few short movements. It’s so quick that if you blink you’ll miss it, but that’s him, quick and efficient. He positions himself beside you to help guide you back to the bedroom, limping slightly along the way. As you approach the bed, Kix picks you up princess style once again and gently lays you down onto your side of the bed.

He rummages through the dresser, grabbing you some clean pajamas and a pair of boxers for himself. You both dress yourself for bed, and you take the towel wrapped around your body and work on drying your hair to an acceptable amount to go to sleep. You don’t have the energy to blow dry it at this point, but you also don’t want to sleep on a sopping wet pillow. As you work on your hair, your stomach starts growling and you realize it’s been hours since you had any food.

“Is it too late to eat?” you ask an already half-asleep Kix laying next to you.

He opens one eye to look at the chronometer on the bedside table and mumbles into his pillow. “It’s basically breakfast time, so why not.”

“I bought a frozen pizza last week,” you mention while tracing small circles on his back to coax him awake. “You could pop it in the oven real quick.”

Kix groans in protest, but his stomach betrays him and growls at the mention of food. He sighs in defeat, gets up, and rubs his eyes. It’s been a very long night for the two of you and dawn is already fast approaching. Luckily, neither of you have plans for the day so sleeping past noon is the only logical course of action. On his way to the kitchen he remembers to grab the anti-inflammatory medicine and an ice-pack for your knee, the two things he wasn’t supposed to forget.

He puts the pizza in the oven and brings you the medicine and a cup of water to wash it down. You gladly take it as the pain in your knee started bothering you again after the shower made it feel slightly better. Kix smiles lazily at you, the exhaustion clear on his face, and you feel bad for making him stay up so late for you. He takes the cup of water back and places the towel-covered ice pack on your knee, timing fifteen minutes for when you need to remove it.

Kix, being the ever-doting man he is, decides to do one more thing to help make you feel better. He steps back into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. If there’s one thing he knows you enjoy, it’s a hot cup of tea. For some reason, tea fixes everything. Bad day? Tea. Period? Tea. Sad? Tea. Injured? Well, according to the track record, tea will work for that too. He sifts through your tea cabinet and pulls out your favorite blend and mug, and steeps you a steaming cup.

The pizza timer dings and Kix pulls it out of the oven, slices it, and brings the whole thing into the bedroom, along with some napkins, and the tea he brewed for you. You smile when he comes into the room and you're even more happy to see your favorite mug in his hand. He sets the mug down on your bedside table and places the pizza in the middle of the bed, before walking back around and settling onto his side of the bed.

You take a sip of the tea and lean your head back against the headboard in simple bliss, sighing softly. Kix smiles at your peace and downs a slice of pizza. You grab a slice as well, and pick up the remote to start one of your favorite princess holos. You're feeling extra sappy tonight and in need of something comforting. You already have your prince charming, but you still love the nostalgia of watching the maiden fall in love with the prince and being swept away into a happily ever after.

Once the pizza has been demolished, Kix removes the pan from the bed and tosses it onto the floor. He slides across the sheets to close the gap between you and wraps an arm around you to pull you close. You lean into his loving embrace and nestle your head against his chest, laying an arm across his stomach. He kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes, listening to his strong heartbeat and his soft breathing as they soothe and lull you softly to sleep.

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toomanybandstocare · 11 months

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{Naboo Sunset}

Program: When Padmé sends word to you that Rex will be on an extended leave this time, you make sure that he'll enjoy his well deserved rest with no worries. Even with General Skywalker in on your plan, no one could have foreseen how Rex would react to your affection. Naboo will always be where the two of you point as the start of your lives as riduurs.

Pairing: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Length: 2636w

Camp Resolute's Masterlist

ClonexReader Bingo

Prompt: Sunset

Warnings: Mild suggestiveness, Petnames (usual Mando'a ones), Alcohol (not to the point of getting drunk)

Counselor Notes: Well this took a turn I didn't see coming! Thank you @ghostofskywalkerfor the idea of a sunset date with Rex <3 For the @clonexreaderbingo.

“So, just to make sure I understand correctly,” Rex slowly voices his concern as he walks off the Twilight with Skywalker, “Senator Amidala requested extra security for the Senate gathering that Naboo is hosting, and the GAR only sent the two of us”. After working with the general for most of his military career, Rex is wary when it comes to any mission with the jedi. His concern only grows when he knows the general is hiding something from him. Rex scans the royal hanger with his eyes, and his suspicions heighten when he realizes their ship is the only one not from this planet.

“No,” Anakin drags out. “But we are here by special request. That part isn’t a lie”.

Rex rolls his eyes and sighs, “Then why are we here, sir?”

The two men reach the main entrance where the guard lets them into the palace with no questions asked. Rex’s eyebrow raises at the lack of protocol. His heart quickens as they walk through the bright palace halls. Normally, Rex can push aside the insecurity that comes with feeling like an outsider, but the grandeur of the royal halls and the luxurious outfits that its inhabitants wear cause him to sink into himself slightly. Finding comfort in the plastoid armor that his brothers wear alongside him even systems away.

Anakin looks at the captain out of the corner of his eyes for a moment, taking note of his stiff posture. He focuses on his gaze in front of them, but he then bears off to a side corridor. He leads Rex to a hidden staircase and explains, “The 501st has been granted an extended leave after our last success”.

Rex’s eyebrows furrow, “Then why are we on Naboo?” He’s careful to keep his voice calm so as to not betray the growing hope that’s overcoming him. The last rays of early evening bleed into a vibrant sunset over the lake from the open archways that line the outer wall.

“I may, or may not, have lied about the Senator requesting you to be here,” Skywalker sheepishly admits. “That doesn’t mean someone else didn’t request your presence, though”.

Reaching the top of the stairwell, Skywalker steps to the side and opens the door for Rex. His signature smirk appears on his face, and Rex thinks this is finally the moment he’ll strangle the general for everything he's been put through. Fully ready to voice his intent, Rex’s body freezes at the sight of you sitting at a table for two on the palace’s terrace.

Dressed in a summer evening outfit, you look at your partner in amusement as he can’t take his eyes off you. His expression of disbelief makes you lightly chuckle. Warmth blankets around you as the sun kisses your skin causing butterflies to tickle your stomach.

“I’ll leave you two to it. We’ll have a few weeks here, Rex, so try to actually relax on your time off,” Skywalker quietly dismisses himself. Before he completely moves away, he nods at you in gratitude.

You smile lightly at the general, and you focus your gaze on Rex. “Care to join me? It’d be a shame to let this go to waste,” you say and motion to the table full of fruit, cheese, and bread. A jug of water sits on the side of the table with a bottle of wine in a chiller stand.

Rex can’t breathe as he takes in this moment. Memorizing it to hold close for the rest of his life, his heart swells to the point where he swears he's going to break. “How,” Rex tries to find his voice as he walks towards you, “How did you plan this?”

You reach your hands out to him and grasp his gloved hands. Rubbing your thumbs over his knuckles, you explain, “I had some help. Padmé learned about it through her husband, and she sent me a message. Offered to let us have a vacation away from prying eyes”. You look up at him from your seat and flutter your eyelashes. The soft smile on your face growing as Rex looks down at you in adoration. A flush warms your cheeks when he takes one hand to tilt your chin up towards him. His gentle touch ignites sparks across your skin.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Rex quietly mumbles before placing a kiss to your lips. His hand then cups your jaw to help guide you into a better position to deepen the kiss. His lips move against yours and pride warms his chest when you meet him with equal tenderness. Everything feels as if it comes to a standstill as the two of you reunite and fall into your partner’s embrace.

You rest your free hand on his hip and run your thumb over the new scratches on the worn plastoid. Silently thanking the stars for safely returning Rex to you one more time. Rex pulls away from your lips, and before you can protest, he places a quick peck to your pout. Your heart races from the small act, and you meet his affectionate gaze with a similar look on your face. “I think you’ve voiced the idea one or two times,” you muse, “You did, did however, say we would need all the time in the galaxy to truly express how much you adore me”.

You lightly laugh and let him step away to find his seat across from you, and his laughter soon joins yours. You pour water into both your glasses while you softly inquire. “How would you like to go about your vacation?” When Rex raises an eyebrow as he slips off his gloves, your cheeks flame as your mind begins to wander from the terrace oasis to the luxurious bedroom the two of you will find comfort in soon enough. “We have a gift sitting in front of us. If you want, we could completely ignore the war for a short time. Get lost in our imaginations of what it would be like to spend our lives peacefully hidden away from the galaxy,” you elaborate.

Rex looks at you with a thoughtful expression. His eyes flickering from your ethereal appearance to the beautiful scenery that leads his mind to all the possible afternoon rendez-vous the two of you could find yourselves in before noticing the small quirk of your lips. His chest aches at the care you’ve put into this experience for him, and he leans forward to grasp one of your hands across the table. “That’s a very dangerous idea, cyar’ika,” Rex muses.

“Don’t you flirt with death everyday, love?” you tease and squeeze his hand. “How could a blossoming field of flowers beside a tranquil lake pose more of a threat than a battlefield?”

Rex chuckles and looks up at you from his eyelashes. His amber eyes hold a roguish glint that only grows in intensity at the small shiver that falls over your body. When he responds, he voice drops into a gravelly, hushed tone, “I meant dangerous for you, cy’are. Three weeks tucked away from any distractions where I can finally take my time to love and adore you. Worship you every morning, afternoon, and evening for everyday we live in paradise. You’re offering me too much when it should be me who offers you everything”.

Your breath hitches and the blush rising to your cheeks rivals the sunset’s rich red and orange hues that paint the sky. Heart pounding against its cage, your voice comes out airy: “Whatever you desire, I shall give to you during our time together. As long as you promise that you’ll return to me each time we must part ways”.

Rex feels like he can’t breathe. A wash of guilty pleasure consumes him as you bite down on a strawberry. The glistening juice trails across your lip before your tongue swipes across to collect it. Your lighthearted laugh seemingly brings a brighter glow that Rex didn’t think was possible to the golden beams of sunlight that stream through the hanging flowers. His other hand subtly moves to his utility belt as you turn your head to watch the sun set against the great lake. Rex is thankful that you let him get lost in his thoughts this time, because he wants to do right by you for this change in your relationship.

“I will do everything in my power to come home to you, so we can continue to create memories like these together,” Rex promises. His voice softens into a reverent awe, and as he speaks he unclasps one of his pouches.

“I know,” you softly acknowledge, “I will always count down the days until we reunite, but during those days I will always worry for your well being and safety”. Rex’s hand squeezes yours, and your expression drops. Not daring to look at your lover, you keep your attention to the families and friends who gather by the lake’s shore to begin their summer celebration. Your chest constricts as hugs are shared and shouts of excitement crescendo against the evening’s warm breeze.

Rex ducks his head and sighs. His fingers hesitate when they graze the small box he’s kept safe by his side during his last few deployments. When he steals a glance at you, Rex’s heart all but breaks at the adoration he holds for you. Sitting before him, Rex looks upon his lover who holds him with such care and tender love. Who understands him better than he does. Who goes through every obstacle to stand by his side and support him in a galaxy that causes a fear to fester in the back of his mind. A lover who walks him off the edge when his emotions get the best of him. There’s no one more deserving of his lifetime devotion after everything his cy’are has done for him. Certainly, no one who he could imagine living the rest of his life with.

With a reignited spark of resolve, Rex scoops the small box into his hand and clasps the pouch. “I can’t promise that a worst case scenario will never happen,” Rex quietly begins. When you turn to face him with a worried expression that nearly makes him choke, he takes a deep breath. “However, if there is a way for me to find my way back to you, I will always search for it. There is nothing in this galaxy that could keep me from returning to you. The only exception being death itself”.

Your breathing begins to grow heavy as you listen to Rex’s declaration. A night you hoped would be full of laughter and relaxation now renders you speechless while feeling the weight of his words sink into you. Your heart races as you watch Rex rise to his feet and return to your side once more. “Rex,” you softly question. Only for a quiet gasp to slip past your lips when he drops to one knee now holding your hand with such tenderness as he trails his thumbs across your knuckles.

Rex’s heart pounds against his chest as blood rushes to his ears. An overwhelming mixture of emotions makes him feel dizzy, but he will not let this opportunity pass. “I have never met a person who willingly gives a piece of their heart to whoever may need it. Someone who cares so deeply for their loved ones or people they have only just met, because you believe that everyone deserves to feel cared about. Regardless of if you’ve spent weeks with them or just a few minutes. You offer your heart to anyone and trust them to take care of it just as you would theirs, because you hold hope that the galaxy will rebuild itself into a place where everyone feels at home once more”.

“You’re going to make me cry,” you let out a watery laugh and wipe away the threatening tears, “You better not be doing what I think you’re trying to do. This vacation is supposed to be about you”.

Rex lets out a short laugh of disbelief as he shakes his head. He looks up at you with a beaming smile, “But that’s just it, cy’are. Without you, I am a shell of a man. You have brought so much light and love into my life that I never dared to dream possible. My heart only beats for you, and I want to spend the remaining days of my life by your side”. Rex slides his thumb under the ring box’s lid as his thunderous heartbeat echoes in his ears. “If you will allow me the honor, I would like to care for you with just as much devotion as you have shown me in the time we have already shared together”.

Your eyes soften as Rex opens the ring box to reveal a simple silver band with a small sapphire in the middle. The last rays of light catch on the gemstone to cause it to sparkle in the early evening. “You would be a fool to ever think I wouldn’t say yes,” you weakly laugh and run your thumb under your eyes.

“Then say it,” Rex pleads. His amber eyes shimmer with excitement in the golden sunlight as he waits to hear the words he’s only dreamed of hearing you say. “Please”.

“Yes,” you softly assure him, “I would love to spend the rest of my life by your side”. There was never a doubt in your mind that this would be the man you married when you first met, but as Rex slips the band onto your ring finger, you have never known a love so strong. When you try to convey your feelings, the words can’t come. Only a small whimper falls from your lips and a short laugh. So instead you cup Rex’s face, and you share a passionate kiss. Your eyes flutter closed as you commit this moment to memory.

A chuckle of acknowledgement falls from Rex before he nips at your bottom lip and deepens the kiss. Tilting his head, Rex holds your wrists and thumbs your racing pulse points. Your hum causes his skin to tingle. Finally, Rex feels as if he’s found his place in the galaxy. When your kiss breaks, the two of you still lean into each other's embrace and rest your foreheads together. For a few minutes, the pair of you don’t move away. Only shifting slightly to ghost your lips over over the other in featherlight kisses. Nudging your chin with his nose to make you open your eyes, Rex gently places a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling away to stand up.

Instead of sitting across from you like you thought he was doing, your eyebrows raise when he takes his chair and moves it next to yours. “Couldn’t even go a minute without being apart,” you find your voice to tease.

Rex shoots you a look of amusement while reaching over to pick up the bottle of wine from the chiller. “Because you’re any better,” Rex counters and nods to your hand resting on his belt. Now adorn by a silver band that only makes his smile grow at the sight. Twisting the cork free, Rex pours both of you glasses of bubbly and places the bottle back in the chiller. As he sits by your side, he offers you a glass and rests a hand on your thigh. He tilts his glass towards you with his usual charming expression. “May we share as many days together as riduurs as there are stars in the galaxy,” he proposes.

Lightly clinking your glass to his, you beam at Rex. “And may we always find our ways home to one another after any time apart”.

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alamogirl80 · 4 months

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Chapter 20 "And I'll Follow the Light in You"

I dunno if anyone is still following this but here is an update. I'm still trying to wrap this up and had hoped to finish it before posting again. But then I saw how long its been since an update.

“You’re older than I thought you’d be,” he remarks. Rex makes an offended sound and Cody has to give him a look. Fox ignores Rex entirely, eyes never leaving Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan raises his chin a little, smirking. “Well, you’re rather gray for a 14 year old yourself, Commander.” Fox’s eyes narrow for a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “I like him, Codes. He’ll do.”

#star wars #the clone wars #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #captain rex #star wars fic #the clone wars fic #codywan au #and i'll follow the light in you #mel's fic #fic update #commander fox #bail organa #coruscant guard #212th attack battalion #clone wars #tcw

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spacemagicandlaserswords · 8 months

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Fives fix-it fic recs

Does anyone have any good Fives fix-it fic recs?

Because I need to forget everything I just watched.

He's totally fine and still alive and everything is ok and the chips are discovered and order 66 doesn't happen and everyone lives and nobody dies and all the clones get to live happy free lives and *sobs*

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dickarchivist · 6 months

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Hello!

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

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

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

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

Do with this as you please, no pressure! 💕

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

I Will Know You Forever, Even In Darkness

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

Word count: 2860

🔞Minors DNI🔞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

"Hm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hm...?"

"You love me?"

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

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

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freesia-writes · 5 months

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Sorry Sunday is nearly over for half of you, LOL. But since the poll was tied, how about both?

Reblog this with your favorite thing you’ve seen/read/made lately! Self promotion is more than welcome! Share what you love about it and anything that stands out.

#Sunday showcase #self promo #self love #the bad batch #tbb #star wars fanart #the bad batch fanart #tbb fanart #star wars fanfiction #fanart #bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars the bad batch #the clone wars fic #the clone wars fanfiction #starwars the clone wars #the clones #star wars the clone wars

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clonemedickix · 4 months

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Grand Army of the Republic ID Cards, courtesy of @dystopicjumpsuit

I love these soooooo much!!! Thank you again for taking the time to make these for my blorbos 🫶🏼

If you’d like to read the epic of General Lara Lin and her two compadres, Captain Primer and CMO Volte, click here and here

@theogfulcrum22 @king-chaos-world @sunshinesdaydream @starrylothcat @anxiouspineapple99 @sev-on-kamino @mire-draws-things @the-bad-batch-baroness @cloneloverrrrr @mandos-mind-trick @padawancat97 @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @isthereanechoinhere96 @jediknightjana @wackylurker @moonlightwarriorqueen @wizardofrozz @multi-fan-dom-madness @starqueensthings @dickarchivist @amorfista @villanousace @mythical-illustrator @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @523rdrebel @vimse @sinfulsalutations

Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit as well!!

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mearchy · 2 months

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The Red Flag Blues - Chapter 1

(Part 1 of A Red Sun Rising)

Rating: M

Words: 1/11 Chapters, 4.6k words

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Bombing, Violence, Suicide, Police Brutality

Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CC-1010 | Fox, Original Clone Trooper Character & Original Clone Trooper Character, CC-1010 | Fox/Clone Commander Thorn, CC-5869 | Stone & Clone Commander Thorn, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Most Relevant Additional Tags: Deep Dive/Worldbuilding, Coruscant Guard, Enemies to Friends, Fox Is Not A Good Person (genuinely) But He's Trying, Minor CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Clone Commander Thorn is So Done, Mandalorian Clone Troopers, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine

Summary:

While on leave on Coruscant, a squad from the 212th battalion is given a straightforward mission - to help track down a Navy officer gone MIA. But everything is not as it seems in the Republic capitol. As he and his men race against the clock to find the officer and secure the valuable intelligence secrets he carries, Marshall Commander Cody becomes increasingly tangled in the obscure politics of the ignominious Coruscant Guard. What they discover about each other will challenge everything they've come to believe about themselves and the war they're fighting - and perhaps, will alter its course irrevocably.

My notes: I’ve been working on this on and off for two-ish years and the fact that I’ve finally got enough nailed down to feel comfortable putting the first chapter up is WILD. Anyway, this is a pretentious depression slurry as well as an opportunity for me to do some worldbuilding and psychological deep dives. It’s definitely heavy angst, but not quite the kind of CG whump that I think pulls fandom hits. I’m still having faith there are a couple kindred nerds out there who want to read something like this. This fic will not be abandoned (a lot is already written) but I make no promises about regular updates.

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dystopicjumpsuit · 6 months

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No Sleep Till Coruscant

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

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

Rating: M (minors DNI)

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

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

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

Suggested listening:

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

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

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

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably,” you acknowledged.

“Do I have to make it an order?”

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

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

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

“What’s your excuse—”

“Got plans for shore—”

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

“After you, Captain,” you said.

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

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

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

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

“I never said that,” Rex objected.

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

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

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

“Duty never sleeps,” he said solemnly.

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

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

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

You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Every night,” you confessed.

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then… Will you tell me?” he asked.

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

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

You nodded. “Sometimes it works.”

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

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

“What did you do?” he whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you gasped. “Just like that.”

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

“And what did you do next?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

“Wait,” he rasped.

“Seriously?!”

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

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

“Why didn’t you?” he asked pointedly.

“You’re my captain—” you began.

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

Ah. Solid point.

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

“Since the minute you came aboard.”

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

“In fairness, stealth is one one of—”

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

“Captain?” you whispered.

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

“Permission to remove your armor, sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #the clone wars fic #star wars #sw tcw fanfic #clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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mandos-mind-trick · 8 months

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F*** Diplomacy

Summary: On another relief mission, you find yourself in a sticky situation. Luckily there's a certain Commander to give you a hand.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, sorta sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, grinding, clothed sex, growling, biting, brief blood, dirty talk, language, Wolffe being Wolffe, confession of feelings.

A/N: I wrote this in the bathroom during an IBS flare up so please forgive if it makes no sense. I am out of it like crazy but must share the smut with y'all because I have no self control.

MASTERLIST

You could laugh. You wouldn’t dare, though. Your sense of self-preservation is far too high to do something like that.

It was no secret your commander hates relief missions.

It's only natural your battalion was chosen to head another relief mission. You think Wolffe actually growled when the Generals ended the call.

You know how much Wolffe hates relief missions. At least this time his favorite droid won't be going. There was no need for a protocol droid this time. You were delivering supplies and setting up shelters after a Separatist attack. The Republic needs the continued support of this particular planet due to its location near two critical hyperspace lanes, so you were going to help keep the Republic in good graces in the eyes of the inhabitants.

You would have chosen anyone but Wolffe for this mission.

The gruff commander wasn't exactly the most diplomatic, and you suppose that's why he'd grabbed you by the pack and hauled you onto the gunship with him and the rest of the Wolf Pack as you'd been loading up.

It's also no secret you're the Wolf Pack's favorite medic. You had been graced with the sigil on your uniform not long after your reassignment to the 104th. You had been among the many medics shipped off to refill the ranks after the loss of most of the battalion.

You'd been the one to hold Wolffe's head in your lap, staunching the bleeding after his unfortunate incident with the wrong end of a lightsaber.

You'd been adopted into the Pack not long after, named their honorary medic despite your status as a civilian contractor.

You tried not to blush as Wolffe all but lifted you into the gunship with one hand. You'd be lying if you said you weren't harboring a small crush on your commander. It was hard not to crush on any of them, but the gruff commander held a special place in your heart. Maybe it was the way he looked at you as you comforted him after he lost his eye, or maybe it was the way he kept you close whenever you were going to potentially dangerous areas. You know he still feels the loss of his original battalion to this day.

The gunship rattles as it takes off, your hand lifting to hold one of the handles to keep yourself steady. You don't get off the cruiser often, but you're always excited when you do. You've always wanted to travel, to visit places all over the galaxy. Maybe that's what led you to join the GAR.

You certainly don't regret it, even if it is hard sometimes.

You can feel Wolffe's arm brushing your side as you sway with the movements of the gunship. You're sure your cheeks are red by now and you're glad your back is to the rest of the Pack. You'd never hear the end of it.

Wolffe exits the ship first when it lands, offering you a hand to help you down. You take it, even though you could make it easily yourself.

You jump right into helping, working with the other medics to get the tent set up and ready to start treating any wounded villagers. You'd love to be able to watch Wolffe's attempts at diplomacy, but you are here to do a job. Ogling your commander is not part of that.

***

You're kept busy throughout the day. Most of the injuries you see are minor. Many bandages and bacta patches later, you finally take a break. One of the villagers offers you a cup of warm liquid and you accept, not having had much of a break to eat or drink anything. The liquid is sweet and slightly tangy, coating your mouth and throat as you drink it, but it’s not unpleasant.

You finish the liquid before making your way through the village.

You find Wolffe gathered around the fire with the village leaders. It's colder on the planet than you would have expected with the sun out. You slip in between Wolffe and Sinker, taking in the warmth of the fire.

Wolffe glances down at you as you settle in beside him, before he turns his gaze back to the village leaders.

You sit and listen to them talk, your mind starting to wander a bit. You can feel the warmth of the bodies beside you, almost more than the fire in front of you. Something begins to tingle under your skin, making your hair stand on end.

One of the village leaders is staring at you, her face focused. She's been staring at you for a while, no emotion or expression in her gaze. The attention is making you a bit uncomfortable, and you resist the urge to hide behind Wolffe.

You begin to warm, a cramping feeling starting in your stomach. You press a hand to your abdomen right below your belly button. Maybe you're more hungry than you thought.

The ache in your stomach continues, progressively getting worse. You couldn't possibly be sick. There were no unknown diseases on this planet you could have been exposed to. You had drank whatever it was that woman had given you. Maybe that was causing your distress.

"Excuse me." You say quietly as you step away, slipping through buildings until you're on the edge of the village.

You brace a hand against the side of one of the buildings as another cramp spasms in your stomach. The air no longer feels cold as your body warms. Maybe you are sick.

You take a few steps into the trees, not wanting to be sick where someone might see you. You take deep breaths, screwing your eyes closed. The last thing you need is to be sick during a diplomatic mission.

Your ears pick up a sound in the distance, your brows furrowing. Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow the sound, walking through the trees.

You stop on the edge of a small clearing, your eyes widening. The woman that had given you the drink is pressed up against a tree, completely bare. There's a man behind her, snapping his hips into hers. Both of their eyes are closed, faces twisted in pleasure.

Your face burns as you back away, breathing heavily. Kriff, you think. You had read something about this planet's mating seasons. The attack had happened right in the middle of one.

Kriff.

Your core throbs, your brain replaying the image of the man and woman over and over. The faces begin to shift, morphing into you and Wolffe. His hands gripping your hips, growling as he fucks into you.

Oh kriff.

You need to get on a gunship and back to the cruiser immediately. The drug could kill you if you're not careful.

Your name is called, your eyes squeezing shut as you curse. Just who you don't want to see. You turn to him, probably looking as wild as you feel. Wide eyed, sweat dripping, legs trembling. Thank the maker he can't read your mind as he struts closer to you.

You know he's big. You just know it.

"Everything alright?" Wolffe asks, stopping a few feet in front of you.

"I need to get to the med center on the cruiser." You say, voice shaking almost as much as your legs.

He frowns, looking you over. "Are you sick?"

"I'm going to be." You murmur, swaying on your feet.

You audibly whimper when Wolffe puts his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. His hand is so warm, the weight of it enough to send you spiraling into visions of him on top of you, those hands all over your body. You screw your eyes shut, not able to look at him anymore.

"What's going on?" You can practically hear the growl in his voice. Slick floods your panties, soaking them right through.

"It's mating season." You say, not brave enough to open your eyes. "They gave me an aphrodisiac."

"What?" Wolffe asks in disbelief.

"This planet has mating seasons. They use aphrodisiacs to help. I drank one." You explain. "I didn't know what it was when she gave it to me."

His grip on your shoulder tightens, another whimper leaving your throat. You want him to squeeze your hips, your thighs, your ass. You want him to hold you so tightly he leaves bruises. You want him to sink his teeth into your throat and claim you as his-

You don't realize he's been talking.

"I need help." You whimper. "I could die if I don't get something." The last word leaves you in a whine. You want a cock, you want Wolffe's cock inside you.

"What can I do?" He asks.

"I-I'm not in my right mind." You frown, eyes still closed. "I-I can't. I can't take advantage of you like that."

He steps closer. You can feel the warmth of him against your body. He's so close, his breath fanning your heated skin. "What if I want to."

You finally let your eyes open, your gaze meeting his. His brow is furrowed, gaze intense as he stares down at you.

"Kriff, I've been waiting for you to ask me for a long time, mesh'la." He all but growls, the hand on your shoulder sliding down your arm. It leaves goosebumps in its wake, the fabric of his glove rough against your sensitive skin. "Do you know why I keep you so close to me?" He tilts his head, bending down closer to you.

You lift up on your toes, shaking your head. "No, sir."

He does growl this time, the sound vibrating in his throat as he smirks. "It's because I keep hoping for the right moment to kiss you."

"All you had to do was ask." You murmur, closing the distance between you.

Your back hits a tree as your lips meet, his body pressing tight against yours. His hand lifts to your face, tugging on your chin until you open your mouth. He slips his tongue inside, flicking it against yours. You moan into his mouth, the heat under your skin practically begging you to devour him.

His hands slide down your body to your hips as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. You taste blood, but you don't care as he presses his codpiece against your pelvis. You moan at the friction, grinding yourself against the hard plastoid.

"Kriff, just like that, mesh'la." He groans. "Gonna cum just like that?"

You continue to grind against him, nodding. "Yes. Fuck, Wolffe!"

He smirks, letting you work yourself up desperately against him. "Good girl."

He lets you continue to grind against him, his hand slipping behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You whine, his touch almost painful but you don't care.

"Gonna...gonna cum." You pant, desperately grinding against his codpiece.

"Cum for me." He growls, pushing harder against you.

Your head as you cum with a cry, hips jerking against his codpiece. You can feel the bulge under it, a promise of what's coming next.

The heat under your skin abates for just a moment, your mind clearing enough for you to catch your breath. You taste blood as you lick your lips, staring up at Wolffe.

"I need more." You gasp out, heart thumping wildly in your chest. "It won't be enough."

Wolffe bites the tip of his glove, tugging one off. He tucks it into his belt before his hand cups the spot between your legs. You're hot and damp under your uniform, slick dripping down your thighs. You need more, you need touch.

You press your hips against his hand, desperate for more. He tugs your belt off dropping it in the grass. His hand slips under your waistband, rough fingers gliding through your slick folds.

An absolutely primal noise leaves you as he finally touches you, more slick gushing out to coat his fingers.

He chuckles, fingers ghosting over your clit. "Such a needy little thing."

"Please." You whimper. "Please. Need you so bad."

"What do you need, baby. Tell me."

"Your cock." You whine, grinding against his hand desperately. "I need your cock inside me."

He pulls his hand from your pants, making you sob. "Ask politely. I am your commander, remember?"

You gulp, getting wetter as he stares down at you with that intense gaze. "Please, sir. I need your cock inside me."

He grins, stroking your cheek with his slick fingers. "That's my good girl."

You practically preen under him, legs shaking in anticipation.

"Take it off." He growls, leaning in closer to your face.

You reach forward, pulling off his codpiece. You can feel the heat blooming under your skin again, your brain filling with fantasies of what's about to happen. You drop his codpiece in the grass, your hand rubbing the bulge in his blacks. He's so big, hard and pulsing against the fabric.

You slip your hand in, closing your fingers around his cock. Your mouth waters and you desperately want to drop to your knees and suck the mean streak right out of him. You know you can't waste much time, though. You need to fix this problem and get back before the others start looking for you.

You pull him free of his blacks, marveling at the size of him in your palm. You jerk him a couple times, letting your eyes lift back to his face. His gaze isn't soft or gentle by any means. It's...admiration, you think? Something not usually in his gaze when looking at others.

"Take your pants off." He rasps, pushing your hand from his cock. He takes it in his own hand, jerking it as you work on tugging your pants down.

You get one leg out before he pounces, gripping your thigh tightly to tug that leg around his waist. You lean back against the tree, holding his gaze as he drags his cock through your folds.

You mewl needily, trying to push your hips closer to him. He finally takes pity on you, slipping his cock inside your pussy. You moan at the stretch, your body opening for him. You know it's the aphrodisiac doing most of the work, making your body well prepared for him without needing any extra stimulation or preparation.

The feeling of his cock stretching you open forces the worry of any lingering side effects out of your mind. He pins you against the tree, your arms wrapping around his neck.

He pauses once he's inside you, letting out a groan. He lips brush your neck as he feels you pulse around him, body desperate for any sort of relief. You cling to his shoulders, his armor digging into your skin but you don't care. The pain only adds to the sensation, more wetness seeping out around his cock.

"Making a mess of us and I haven't even started yet." He smirks. "You naughty little thing."

You whimper at his words, trying to grind your hips against him for any sort of relief. "Please, sir." You whine. "Please fuck me."

He nips at your neck, humming quietly. "Since you asked so nicely."

He draws his cock from your walls until just the tip is inside before slamming his hips forward, forcing his cock back inside. You gasp at the sensation, clinging to him as he repeats the motion, jolting your body with every thrust into you.

The bark of the tree drags against your skin but you don't care. You'll worry about the discomfort later. All you care about is Wolffe and his cock inside you.

"Harder." You gasp, threading your fingers in his hair. "Fuck me harder, please."

A groan rumbles in his chest as he draws his hips back before picking up the pace, fucking into you hard. You cling to him as he takes you roughly, hips slamming against yours. You'll have bruises but you don't care.

"So kriffing good." He groans, panting into your neck. "So tight and hot. Such good pussy, baby. All for me. All mine."

"Yours." You gasp, hardly able to form words from the pleasure rushing through your body. "Only yours."

"Gonna cum for me?" He asks, slipping a hand between your bodies to tease your clit. "Gonna cum around my cock?"

You cry out his name as he fucks you through your orgasm, walls spasming around him as pleasure burns through your veins, nearly whiting out your vision.

His hips stutter, a growl rumbling through his chest as he cums, hips slamming into yours as he fills your pussy.

You're gasping for breath, still clinging to him as you come down from your high.

"Fuck, babe." He groans, pulling back just slightly. The front of his armor and his blacks are soaked.

"Oh kriff." You breathe. You can still feel the heat lingering under your skin.

Wolffe pulls himself free of you, tucking himself back unto his blacks. "Made a big mess of us, didn't you?"

You nod, legs shaking as you try to stand on them. He chuckles, helping you back into your pants, putting your belt back on before his codpiece.

"Come on, mesh'la." He says, scooping you into his arms. "Let's get you back to the ship."

"But what about the mission?" You ask, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Fuck diplomacy." He says, carrying you back to the gunships.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #x reader #clone thirsting #the dark side fic

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 11 months

Text

Beloved

Fives x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: Hormones vs Pheromones

Summary: A horrible smell leads to a precious discovery. You and Fives have been enjoying your life together, but everything is about to change now that you’re pregnant. While your hormonal imbalance rages, Fives must hang on for dear life as he’s dragged through the stages of fatherhood. Luckily, the 501st has his back and comes to the rescue more than once.

Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader

Characters: Fives, Kix

Tags & Warnings: established relationship, suggestive themes, pregnancy, morning sickness, vomiting, humor, domestic fluff, insults, sarcasm, light angst, dialogue heavy

Word Count: 4.8k

Author's Note: I came up with this idea after listening to a podcast about a woman whose pregnancy hormones made her absolutely hate her husband. Then it turned into a series… Whoops. Written in second person, but from different perspectives. Main focus is on Fives. Also, lots of dialogue because sarcasm and insults require some talking.

Beta Read: By the lovely @commander-sunshine because I was going to throw this fic in the trash and she convinced me otherwise. Thanks babe 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Fives

Chapter 1

Your life is blissful nowadays. You and Fives live peacefully in the GAR Commons, which houses the entire 501st Battalion. The communal building complex has multiple accommodations, including studios, one bedrooms, and multi-rooms that will fit up to four clone troopers at a time. There’s also a community mess hall, medbay, shooting range, weight room, and even a courtyard with benches and flowers to enjoy. For GAR standards, it’s a nice place to live.

As an ARC trooper, Fives was able to swipe himself a one bedroom for the two of you. It’s a little thing, but it’s cozy and it’s spacious enough for all of your needs. When you first moved in, you completely fell in love with its simplistic charm. It has all of the necessities, a bedroom, refresher, kitchen, living area, and lots of closet space. You quickly set to work making it a home for you and Fives by adding pictures, a couple decorative pillows, and some nice curtains.

There’s not much else you could ask for to complete your little world. The life of a clone trooper’s wife isn’t always the best, but you never let yourself dwell on the unpredictable aspects of the war. Some days Fives will wake up and be gone for sixty-five rotations and other times he will wake up and be gone for two rotations. Better still, some days he wakes up and doesn’t have to go anywhere. Those are your favorite days, the ones where you get him all to yourself.

Everything is pretty quiet at the moment. Fives hasn’t gone out on assignment for eighty rotations, which is his longest base assignment on record. Although, he still has duties at the GAR headquarters. Sometimes he trains the shinies and other times he has local missions, but at the minimum, he still makes it home for dinner every night. Well, almost every night. Once and a while, he’ll kick back at 79s with the boys and drink late into the night like old times.

Fives isn’t the party boy he used to be, so you find it funny when he makes an attempt. When you first met him at 79s, he was wild, rowdy, and an absolute terrible flirt. He tried time and time again to get you to go out on a date with him using cheesy pick-up lines, but they never worked. Eventually, he stopped trying, and you found yourself missing his playful advances. You thought he was charming and funny, and adored his hearty laugh. Finally, you caved and began dating.

Now married, he spends more time at home and less time at the bar. Neither of you know when he will ship out again, so it’s important to spend quality time together as a couple when he is at home. This particular evening is brimming with relaxation while you watch the latest holo-film. Both of you are snuggling in bed, your head resting on his shoulder while he holds a bowl of popcorn on his chest. You put your hand in the bowl, take a few pieces, and pop them into your mouth.

“He’s going to die,” you say while munching away.

Fives cocks his head. “You think?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” you nod.

“Why do you say that?” Fives asks while grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“They’ve built him up way too much to let him live,” you point out while gesturing towards the holo-film.

“Brutal,” Fives shakes his head.

“I know right?” you chuckle and toss more popcorn into your mouth.

As the holo-film draws to its conclusion, you begin to doze. You nod off repeatedly, all the while Fives giggles to himself at your adorable attempts to stay awake. He turns his head to look at your sleeping face and plants a small kiss on your temple. He flexes, stretching his legs, and carefully lifts you off his shoulder to lay you down without waking you. He turns the holo-film off as the credits roll and gets up to bring the popcorn bowl into the kitchen.

He returns to bed and crawls in next to you, spooning your back tightly against his chest and draping an arm across your stomach. He breathes deeply, inhaling the faint scent of your gardenia and jasmine shampoo before snuggling in for the night. But, just as he gets comfortable, you shift under his arm. He shifts with you and readjusts. A couple minutes later, you shift again. He sighs and repositions himself to accommodate you. The third time you squirm is when he breaks the silence.

“What’s the matter?” he mumbles into his pillow.

“Do you smell that?” you ask as you scrunch your nose. You can smell a putrid odor in the air, but you can’t figure out where it’s coming from.

“Smell what?” Fives takes a whiff, but all he can smell is your shampoo and maybe something else mixed in with it.

“That smell,” you answer in annoyance as you roll out of his arm’s hold and onto your back. “You don’t smell it?”

“I don’t smell anything but you,” Fives laughs as he props himself up on his elbow.

Your face scrunches in repulsion of his movement and you pinch your nose. “It’s you!”

“Me?!” Fives exclaims, a mix of surprise and confusion.

“When was the last time you showered?” you ask in disgust.

He blinks in bewilderment at your question. “This morning.”

“I don’t believe you,” you argue while sitting up. “You smell awful.”

“You were there,” he reminds you with a sigh. “In the shower, with me.”

You think back and realize he’s right, you both showered this morning and you’ve been together all day. You wonder what else it could be. “Deodorant?”

He sniffs his armpit to make sure. “Yeah, I put that on too.”

You both look at each other, puzzled at the weird occurrence. You think as hard as you can about where else the smell might be coming from, but you swear it's originating from Fives. You ask him to move again and he sits himself up against the pillow. Your nose is immediately assaulted by a horrendous smell and you gag in response. You turn away from him and gag again. Fives raises an eyebrow in concern at your bizarre response to his body odor.

“Why don’t I go take another shower,” he says as he gets out of bed.

You're not sure if it will help, but you nod in between gags as he moves away from you.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, not knowing what else to say. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but it seems like he’s the cause and he feels bad about it.

You lean back against your pillow and try to relax. The awful scent still lingers, but at least it’s weaker now that Fives has left. You grab his ill-scented pillow and toss it off the bed to try and get rid of the rest of the smell. You roll over on your side, away from Fives’ side of the bed, clutch the covers to your face, and begin to cry. Why you're crying, you don’t know, but you feel the need to cry anyway. At least the congestion from crying will help clog your nose and keep the stench out.

When Fives returns from the shower, toweling dry his wet hair, he sees you laying in bed crying. He drops the towel, rushes over, and crawls onto the bed next to you. He places a tender hand on your back to let you know he is there. “Cyare, what’s wrong?” he asks with concern.

“I…” you say through coughing sobs. “I don’t know. I… I just want to stop.”

“Stop what?” he inquires, looking for any semblance or idea of what is causing you to be crying so suddenly. He visually looks you over to make sure there’s nothing externally wrong with you.

“Everything,” you cry harder and curl into a ball.

Fives is even more baffled. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I don’t know!” you yell in frustration at yourself for also not knowing what you mean, and for the fact that he’s asking you questions you don’t have the answers to.

“Udesii, cyar’ika,” Fives soothes while rubbing your back. “Shh. It’s alright.”

As his hand gently circles your back, the putrid smell returns and you reach around to push his hand away to make him stop. Fives is taken aback by your rejection and recoils his hand. You turn your head to look back at him with apologetic eyes. You’re not sure why you pushed him away, but you don’t want him touching you right now. Something isn’t right. This is all wrong. Your emotions are running wild and you can’t seem to get them under control. You start crying again at your helplessness.

“Cyare…” Fives trails as he watches and listens to your insatiable distress, but there’s nothing he can do about it. If he knew what to do, he would be doing it already. There’s nothing in his training that has prepared him for whatever this is. All he can do is be here for you if you need him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you say through your tears.

“Maybe we should go see Kix in the morning,” Fives suggests.

You nod, thinking it might be a good idea to have a medic look you over. Fives brings a hand down to cup your cheek, a sweet gesture he always does when you’re feeling down, but instead of leaning into it, you slap his hand away. You put your hands over your mouth in shock at what you just did. Fives curls his lips and sighs as he flops back against the backboard in defeat. He doesn’t know what to do and you don’t know what you want him to do. Everything is confusing.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as more tears fall. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Fives interrupts before you can berate yourself further. “I know.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you repeat as if saying it out loud will help you solve the puzzle.

“If it’s my smell bothering you,” Fives begins, his voice wavering with uncertainty, "why don’t I sleep down there, with my pillow.”

“Fives,” you begin to protest, even though you really do want him and his unbearable stench to be somewhere else.

“It’s fine, really,” Fives chuckles as he slips off the duvet and lays himself down next to the bed. “I’ve slept in worse places than our bedroom floor.”

You bury your head in your pillow as your shattering cries take over again. Fives can hear your muffled sobs and it kills him that he can’t hold you through them. You don’t know why you’re upset. It’s a terrible emotion to both want and not want your husband. It never crossed your mind. You have a playful and fun relationship, and always enjoy his company, that is, until now. You can’t wrap your head around it, but you’re hoping a good night's sleep will fix everything.

Eventually you both fall asleep, for the first time, separately. When Fives is home, you always sleep together in some form, whether it’s backs touching, spooning, or legs intertwining, even his hand accidentally smacking your face. No matter if you're happy with or angry at each other, you never sleep without some type of contact, that is, until tonight. You both feel it, the sting of separation, but there is a part of you that just can’t bring yourself to touch him right now.

As the early hours of dawn break, you feel a stirring in the pit of your stomach. You shift to try and alleviate it, but it only gets worse. The feeling travels up your esophagus and into the back of your throat, making you squirm in discomfort. “Fives,” you call out to him as you hold your aching stomach.

“Mhm,” he mumbles sleepily from his little blanket nest on the floor.

“I don’t feel good,” you answer as you curl yourself up a little tighter.

“What kind of ‘not feel good’?” he asks as he slowly sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“I think I’m gonna puke,” you say while jolting up and putting a hand over your mouth.

“Oh no,” Fives groans as he stumbles up off the floor to find a bucket. “Hang on!” he calls back as he scurries to the kitchen.

Your stomach muscles contract and you start to gag. “Fives!”

Fives rushes back into the bedroom with a small bucket and comes around to your side of the bed, but he’s a little too late. Your mouth fills with saliva in preparation of what’s to come and you can’t hold it in any longer. Fives dives for it, but misses by a couple inches as you vomit on the bedroom floor. He’s able to catch the end of it, while simultaneously grabbing most of your hair to hold it out of the way. You continue to vomit into the bucket until the spasms stop.

“Sorry,” you pant when you can finally speak again. Your chest hurts from the convulsions and your throat burns from regurgitating your stomach contents.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fives says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll clean it up.”

You smile lazily at him and are grateful he is there to help you, but something still doesn’t feel right. As he gets up to find some cleaning supplies you get a whiff of the same smell from last night and start gagging. Fives turns to bring the bucket back just in case and shoots you a worried look. Something is wrong with you. Something is very wrong with you. You don’t know what it is about his scent all of sudden, but it’s the most nauseating smell in the galaxy.

“Please, get away from me,” you plead through gags while putting up a hand to signal him to stay back. “You smell so bad.”

“That’s it,” Fives sighs while rubbing his forehead. “We’re going to see Kix.”

He leaves the bedroom to empty the bucket and comes back to clean up the floor. He places a clean bucket on the bed for you to use, trying with difficulty to respect your new boundaries. He then opens the dresser and throws on whatever he can find the quickest and tosses you one of his shirts. You grab the shirt, but it's covered in that horrific smell so you throw it at his back and it plops on the floor by his feet. He slumps his shoulders and you put your head in your hands and start to cry again.

Fives lets out a discouraged sigh and grabs something of yours from the closet that will be comfy to wear to medbay and something you won’t mind throwing up on, just in case. He eventually finds an oversized hoodie he knows doesn’t smell like him and he tosses that to you. You smell it to be sure, and you sigh in relief as you pop it over your head. You grab the clean bucket and slowly get up from the bed, legs still wobbly from the stomach convulsions earlier.

Fives does everything in his power not to hold you steady. He reaches, but he pulls back knowing you’ll probably start vomiting again if he gets too close. He grabs the keys and your bag and opens the door to the GAR Commons hallway and waits for you to follow him. You trail after him as he leads the way to the medbay. It’s strange walking behind him and not alongside him, or holding his hand, but you quickly realize that following him was a terrible idea.

You stop and vomit into your bucket. You’re not sure where all of this is coming from, because there’s no way you have this much food in your stomach, but you don’t take the time to try and figure it out. Fives stops at the familiar sound and turns around to look at you. His eyes are compassionate. “I’m leaving a trail, aren’t I?” he asks knowingly.

You nod.

He sighs. “Why don’t you take the lead and I’ll follow you?”

You nod again and walk past him while holding your breath.

As you enter the medbay, you see Kix bustling about as he gets ready for the day. The medics always start early, but since Kix is in charge of the Common’s medbay, he has to start earlier than the other medics, which is great for the both of you. He doesn’t notice you at first, but as you both hobble awkwardly into his periphery, he catches a glimpse and stops what he’s doing. “Are you two okay?” Kix asks as he checks the time and looks at your fatigued states.

“I think I’m sick,” you answer while clutching your bucket.

“I can see that,” Kix says as he notices the bucket you're holding and glances at Fives suspiciously standing a good distance away. “Come on, let me take a look at you.” He gestures with his head for you to follow him to one of the exam rooms.

You both sit down, on opposite sides of the room, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Kix. He can already tell something is amiss. He sits down backwards on the rolling medical stool and crosses his arms over the seat back. He looks at you, sitting closest to the door, and then swivels the chair to look at Fives sitting in the opposite corner. “So, tell me what’s going on,” Kix asks as he swivels back to look at you.

“It started last night,” you begin to explain. “We were watching a holo-film, ate some popcorn, and then went to sleep. But, suddenly, I started smelling this weird smell and it made me super nauseous. But the weird thing is that the smell was coming from Fives.”

Kix raises an eyebrow at your last comment and looks over at Fives who’s sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping rapidly on the floor. Kix can only describe the expression on the ARC trooper’s face as a mix between confused, concerned, and annoyed.

Feeling Kix’s stare burning a hole in his skull, Fives adds to your comment about his odor. “Then, I took a shower thinking that would fix the smell issue.”

“Did you use soap?” Kix asks blankly.

“Yes, I used soap,” Fives answers with an unamused huff. “But she still said I smelled.”

Kix narrows his eyes and looks back and forth between the two of you, but doesn’t say anything about what he’s thinking yet.

“Then I woke up this morning feeling like I was going to vomit,” you continue on with the timeline of events.

“Yeah,” Fives interjects with a small laugh. “And she missed the bucket too.”

“Shut up, Fives!” you exclaim in frustration at his irritating laughter. His penetrating voice grates against your eardrums, so you rub them to try and get some relief. None of this is funny to you and you don’t understand how he could be laughing so flippantly about it. Something is seriously wrong with you and his perceivable apathy is making you furious.

Fives’ mouth drops open in shock at your uncharacteristic outburst, but Kix just snorts at it. Your overreaction is the last piece of information he needs to connect a few dots that have been rolling around in his head since you got there.

“What are you smiling at?” you exclaim at Kix with annoyance. You wonder why everyone all of sudden thinks you’re suffering is a joke.

“I think I know what your problem is,” Kix chuckles as he pushes his feet to the floor and rolls his chair backwards to one of the drawers. He pulls the drawer open, grabs a small box, and slowly wheels himself back over to hand it to you.

You look at the box and your eyes widen. “You’re joking?”

“Afraid not,” Kix grins while placing his chin in his palm. “You have most of the early stage symptoms.”

“What?” Fives asks nervously, completely oblivious to the contents of the box as he cranes to look from his position across the room. “What is it? What does she have?”

You let out a heavy sigh at Fives’ pestering questions and toss the small box to him with an exasperated shake of your head.

He examines the box and gives Kix a puzzled look. “This is a pregnancy test.”

“So, you can read,” Kix says sarcastically.

“How did that happen?!” Fives wonders in shock.

“If I have to explain it to you, then you probably shouldn't be having sex,” Kix answers bluntly.

You place your head in your hands in defeat and let out a small squeal of irritation. How in the world did you end up with this idiot for a husband? What was it that you saw in him that made him so appealing? At this point, he has as much appeal as a bantha’s backside, and that’s being generous. This changes everything. You can’t be pregnant, can you? Your life has been perfect up until now. You don’t need anything else to make you happy.

“I know how it happens,” Fives retorts with an eye roll. “I’m just surprised that it did happen.”

“Contraception isn’t one hundred percent effective,” Kix explains. “Abstinence is, but we both know you don’t have any of that.”

“Does it even matter?” you interrupt their annoying banter, about ready to smack them both. You’re not sure where all the agitation is suddenly coming from, but your fuse is wearing thin. You get up and walk over to Fives. “Give me that.” You swipe the box back from him and go to the nearest refresher to take the test.

“So, how did you know?” Fives asks after you leave the exam room and close the door behind you.

“Easy,” Kix answers with a shoulder shrug. “The hormone changes during the first trimester can be drastic, including morning sickness, food cravings, breast tenderness, irritability, heightened sense of smell, and in rare cases an aversion to the father.”

“She has at least four of those,” Fives notes while listening intently.

“The others will come eventually,” Kix explains further. As a medic, pregnancy is not what he is trained for, but he can never be too knowledgeable about these types of things, considering the amount of men he has to look after. One of them was bound to have a baby at some point in his medical career.

“Is she really not going to like me anymore?” Fives asks nervously, still thinking about the list of hormonal changes Kix mentioned.

“Eh,” Kix scratches his head, trying to be realistic and honest. “More like she’s going to hate your guts, if this morning’s events are any indication.”

“Hate?” Fives questions with concern. “How long is that going to last?”

“Could be just the first trimester,” Kix begins while thinking out loud. “Or the full 280 rotations.”

“280 rotations!” Fives exclaims. “What am I supposed to do during all that time?”

“I don’t know,” Kix says. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

“Can’t you give her something for it?” Fives frantically asks as he goes into panic mode.

“Yeah,” Kix says sarcastically. “Vitamins and prenatal supplements.”

“No, not that,” Fives corrects while waving his hands. “I mean for the hormonal changes.”

“You want me to give her something to change her pregnancy hormones to non-pregnancy hormones?” Kix clarifies with a raised eyebrow. “Fives, I know you can be clueless at times, but that’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“But, how am I going to survive this?” Fives asks, desperate for guidance. “She can’t even stand the way I smell.”

“Again,” Kix repeats. “My only concern is mother and baby, not your identity crisis.”

“C’mon, Kix,” Fives pleads. “You gotta help me.”

“Get a therapist,” Kix advises bluntly.

Fives and Kix’s conversation comes to an abrupt stop when you swing open the door to the exam room. Fives sees you crying and isn’t sure if they are happy tears, sad tears, or angry tears, but he’s bracing for all the possibilities. You look at Fives, smile, and nod your head to let him know that the test is indeed positive. You are pregnant. You are going to be a mother and Fives is going to be a father. You feel an overwhelming sense of joy at the prospect and can’t stop smiling.

“Congratulations,” Kix says with an ear-to-ear grin. “You're going to be parents.”

Fives takes a deep breath as his heart beats rapidly in his chest. Him, a father? A parent? He doesn’t even know what a parent is, let alone how to be one. All at once, the issues of last night and this morning seem to melt away as he’s now flooded with anxious thoughts about what the rest of your lives will look like. Will he be a good father? How does one take care of a baby? He’s a soldier. He isn’t bred for this sort of thing. It’s not part of his genetic make-up.

Rex is good with kids, but him? He is the most awkward person alive when he gets around kids. Most of the other clone troopers seem to be naturals, always knowing what to say, what to do, and just fun to be around. He, on the other hand, makes children cry. Echo too. Maybe his batch got messed up during the cloning process. Maybe the rest of Domino Squad was terrible with kids and he just didn’t know it since his original batchmates have long since departed.

You cock your head at your husband's silence as his brain short circuits from the news. “Fives?” you prod to try and get a response. He hasn’t moved or said anything since you came back into the room, so you’re not sure what his thoughts are. What if he doesn’t want to be a father? What if he doesn’t want a baby? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? The destructive thoughts wash over you in waves as your anxiety increases while awaiting his response.

Kix, seeing the dazed look in Fives’ eyes and your nervous expression, picks up a tongue depressor off the counter and throws it at Fives’ face. It bounces off his cheek and he slowly looks up at the two of you. Finally realizing he is not alone with his thoughts, he snaps out of his swirling haze and sees your worried face. The affection and protectiveness he feels for you, his now pregnant wife, begins to overwhelm all his senses.

Fives shoots up from his seat, rushes over to you, and pulls you against his chest. He squeezes you tightly and presses adoring kisses against the top of your head. “We’re going to be parents,” he whispers against your hair, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile.

“Yeah,” you mumble into his chest as fresh tears of joy roll down your cheeks. “We are.”

Kix watches the adorable display and sighs happily. It’s not every day a clone trooper makes a baby and he knows he’s going to have his hands full with your prenatal care. He chuckles to himself as he thinks about what the rest of the pregnancy is going to look like and if Fives will be able to survive it. However, something is nagging at the back of his mind and he can’t quite put his finger on it. But then his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of you retching. Oh, yeah.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize to Kix. You are mortified at what you just did. It was so involuntary that you didn’t have any time to find somewhere else to let it all out.

Kix shakes his head and sighs as he gets up from the medical stool. “Don’t worry. I’ll get an orderly to clean it up.”

“Can you get me something to wear while you’re at it?” Fives requests as he looks down at his vomit-covered clothes.

“Might as well get used to it now,” Kix waves dismissively as he leaves the room.

“Sorry,” you apologize again while looking up at him in embarrassment. “I forgot how bad you smell.”

“This is going to be a long 280 rotations,” Fives sighs while pulling off his soiled shirt.

“It might get better, right?” you encourage while trying to offer some optimism into the bleak situation.

“I hope so,” Fives agrees, but he has a sinking feeling it won’t be that easy.

Chapter 1

Masterlist

A03

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toomanybandstocare · 4 months

Text

{Candy Cane Cupid}

Program: Holidays come around every year with mixed emotion. Excitement buzzes as clones celebrate their first Life Day with their partners after the war. Disappointment is pushed to the back of your mind as you keep yourself busy at work while your riduur is away. Mischief is in the air when Cupid finally reveals his holiday surprise for you.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Bartender, GN! Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Length: 2017w

Warnings: Mention of candy cane, alcohol + club scene, bittersweet emotions around the holidays, barely edited bc my brain is v smooth from work, probs slight out of character Wolffe (see counselor note below), barely edited as usual oops

Camp Resolute Masterlist

ClonexReader Masterlist

For the lovely @sinfulsalutations - Happy fic exhange and holiday season! I hope you enjoy. ^_^ I tried to make it a lil Hallmark moment. Part of the Life Day Exchange for @cloneficgiftexchange hosted by Ghost.

Prompt: 79s For @clonexreaderbingo event hosted by Ghost.

Counselor Note: I apologize if it's not that festive or good. Been in a funk as of recently, but I had fun writing this and trying to explore Wolffe as a character more. I know he's more stoic and serious in canon, but I wanted to explore how he would balance happiness, relaxation, and the familiarity of pulling rank during post war.

It seems like all of Coruscant has decided to spend the evening out amongst the city levels for holiday celebrations. Still only a year since the Clone Wars were won, everyone carries a warm happiness and joyfulness as they weave through club lines with their friends. Former troopers gather in boisterous groups outside of clubs, eagerly waiting for their first Life Day celebration. The usual clubbers are surrounded by new faces who easily share their nervousness and excitement for what the night may bring.

79s, normally vibrant with yellow and orange neon lights, now welcome tonight’s guests with more festive colored lighting and music. Even the tired club staff seem to be able to find one last bit of energy to push through the night with the holiday cheer.

The tips of your fingers sting from gripping the chilled shaker as your gaze flits across the crowd of dancers and party goers. The small semblance of hope that you kept tucked away deep in your heart slowly sizzles when you can’t find a gray battalion ribbon in the crowd of troopers. Red ribbons pack tightly into a booth as they play a game of Sabbac and try to teach their partners. Blue ribbons spread across the dance floor as they find dates for the evening. Orange ribbons stick close to the end of the bar as they share a flight of beer and stories. Not a single gray ribbon in the crowd to be found tonight. Your chest constricts, squeezing all the air out of your lungs in disappointment. The last flicker of hope fizzles and stings your heart. Hitting the shaker against the bartop harder than intended, you pour a bright blue cocktail into its glass and slide it over to a giggling patron. You watch with yearning as she’s pulled into the side of her partner, who sports a green ribbon, before they maneuver through the growing mass of people to join their friends.

“Still no sign of Wolffe?” Kiva carefully asks. Walking past you from the side entrance of the bar with a crate of seasonal beer, he squats down to the small fridge at the base of the bar shelves. He looks up at you with a concerned expression as he slides the fridge door open.

“He said he wasn’t even sure if he was going to be in the system even after Life Day,” you casually explain. Darting your tongue over your bottom lip, you shrug and turn to grab a new drink slip. Unable to meet Kiva’s all too familiar sympathetic gaze, you grab the mixers and spirits for the next order. Your heart races out of rhythm to the upbeat songs pulsing through the club. As the liquids spill into your new shaker, your stomach knots and twists leaving agony to swim through your body.

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering to look for him. The last we spoke, he and Plo Koon were just summoned to attend the peace accords on Soreno,” you breathlessly ramble. Once the final words tumbles past your lip, your throat tightens and you slam the top of the shaker shut before Kiva can reassure you.

Guilt stings the back of your neck as you shake the drink above your shoulder. The day that Wolffe shared that he was reinstated as a Marshall Commander, you immediately called for celebration. All his closest brothers and your friend group filled into a bar just down the street from your shared home. It wasn’t until the two of you fell into bed and silence separated you from Wolffe’s bliss that you realized the two of you wouldn’t have a different life after the war. Wolffe would still be systems away from you a majority of the time. The realization sank in further when he couldn’t wish you a happy birthday in person with the rest of your loved ones. A solemn understanding was made when he missed your two year anniversary to help with an aid mission. The mundane moments and memories you had hoped to create with Wolffe were nothing like the ones that your friends share of their partners' first year away from the GAR.

Not even realizing that you had slowed your actions, a gentle hand takes the shaker from yours and pours it into the glass in front of you. With a sigh, you face Kiva’s kind, understanding expression after he slides the drink over to a trooper with a yellow ribbon.

“Give him a call. Maybe you’d be surprised by the answer?” he softly encourages. Hope and mischief dance across his face while he grabs your hand to pull you away from the order line.

“Why would I do that when I already know the answer?” you tiredly push back. Fatigue and numbness wrap around your bones, and you can only stumble after Kiva out of the bar. “It’s not even my break yet for the second half. Not to sound too pessimistic, but I’d rather just work the doubles if I can’t spend the holidays with my partner”.

“Well,” Kiva exclaims, “Call me your candy cane cupid, because I have a surprise for you.” He winks and pulls you through the group of women with glittering dresses and warm sweaters.

Your heart hammers against your eardrums at Kiva’s words. “What do you mean?” you hastily ask. Kiva’s laughter mixes with the music while the two of you weave through the clusters of clones towards the CO table, a now long standing tradition at 79s even after the war. When you break through the last wall of party goers, the entire club blurs around you.

Kiva steps to your side, and the booth is empty with all but one person sitting behind the table with two glasses of Corellian whiskey. Ambient lighting dances across Wolffe’s tired expression, and you can just make out the small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. One that only makes a fleeting appearance when you’re nearby or mentioned in conversation.

“Happy Life Day,” Kiva expresses with a beaming smile, “Now go celebrate and enjoy the holiday festivities”.Before you can even thank him, Kiva shoots you a wink and disappears into the crowd once more.

You watch in disbelief as that rare smile grows across Wolffe’s face while he moves out of the booth.Without a second thought, you stumble through the last few troopers wearing gray ribbons to throw yourself into Wolffe’s arms. “I thought you said you weren’t going to be home until after the holiday,” you choke out into his chest. Warm amber and musk mix to create Wolffe’s signature cologne, and you press yourself further into his embrace. His calloused hands roam across your back leaving sparks in their wake even when separated by your clothing.

“Your friend cupid has his ways,” Wolffe chuckles. His heart hammers as he reacquaints himself with your touch. How it feels to have his riduur in his arms once more. How the sound of your voice eases every worry from his mind. How being with you feels like home. Sliding his hands to your waist, he carefully pulls you from his body to fully be able to see you. Wolffe admires the small changes in your appearance as hues of blue, gold, and purple dance across your face. For just a moment, everything feels at peace. The anxiety of moving to another system in a few cycles disappears. None of the teasing remarks from his younger brothers get under his skin. Only you matter, and all the tension from his body dissipates. “Sorry, I got distracted. How are your eyes so pretty?” he murmurs almost to himself.

“Didn’t know you could be such a sap,” you sniffle with a light laugh. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Wolffe’s smile softens with remorse. “I know I haven’t been around as much as either of us had hoped. And I know I’ve let you down when I’ve missed important milestones for us this year. I wanted to make sure we could spend our first Life Day together,” he explains.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’ve done anything wrong,” you rush to assure him. Tears sting your lasline from the overwhelming storm of emotion raging inside you. When you move to wipe the stray tears escaping, Wolffe tenderly cups your cheek with his hand. His calloused fingertip carefully traces the planes of your face and wipes away the tear from your cheek.

“I don’t,” Wolffe reassures you. “I know that this isn’t what we had imagined for either of our lives after the war, and I don’t want us to drift apart because of that. I’m here because I need you to understand that nothing is going to stop me from coming home to you. Nothing was going to stop me from spending Life Day with you this year or any year in the future, alright?”

All the loneliness and yearning from the cycles spent alone crash down onto you. Tears freely fall down your cheeks as you tuck yourself into the crook of Wolffe’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much,” you admit. “I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how much Plo and the GAR means to you, but I’ve missed you so much.” Your voice breaks at the end of your confession, and you pull away from his body to wipe your tears from your face.

“I’ve missed you, cyar’ika. More than you could imagine,” Wolffe mumbles into the top of your head. His heart stings at your cries, and he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. “I’m home now. It’s going to be okay, yeah? We’re going to figure this out”.

You let Wolffe guide you into the booth, and the two of you settle into the far corner. Draping your legs over his lap, you tuck yourself into his side and look at him in adoration. “We’re both a mess without each other, huh? Have absolutely no idea what to do without the other,” you tease. Wolffe chuckles and nods after taking a sip of his whisky. He ducks his head to press his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers: “Tell anyone and we may just have to leave early.” His warm breath tickles across your neck, and he squeezes your thigh as the rest of the Wolfpack join you with their partners.

For the first time during the holiday season, you’re able to sink into Wolffe’s arms and enjoy the company around you. Not a single member of the pack or their partners neglect to see how you’ve been. Plans begin to easily come into creation to squeeze in a few more holiday outings for you and Wolffe to join. A glimpse of the life that you hoped to create with Wolffe after the war finally playing out. Yet, it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t where you were currently at in life.

During a bout of laughter, you look over to Wolffe and find him already gazing at you with that all too familiar smile tugging at his lips. You cup his jaw and press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. Pulling away, the two of you share a look of adoration before sharing a soft kiss in the privacy of your own world. The two of you fall into rhythm with each other as if no time had passed. Lost in the moment, it’s not until his brothers start to howl and their partners tell them to leave you and Wolffe alone that the two of you break from the kiss.

“Mind your damn business,” Wolffe barks back to his snickering brothers. “How many times did I turn a blind eye to when you brought back your cy’are to the barracks?” Instantly the snickers silence as the older brothers laugh at the young clones.

Rolling his eyes as the conversation redirects to tomorrow’s outing, Wolffe pulls you closer into his side. Pressing a tender kiss to your temple, he rests his forehead against yours. “Happy Life Day, riduur”.

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