My brain is just clone troopers 24/7 so here you'll find my stories with our favourite copy-paste men.
Pretty much everything I write contains either smut or other adult themes so this blog is 18+ only.
Oh and angst. Everything has angst. So much angst.
I'm open to requests but I'm a pretty slow writer so keep that in mind 😅
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Captain Rex
Long fic - status: completed
I got you - Rex x Jedi!OFC Lexie | fix-it AU
One-shots
Short-Circuited - Rex x fem!Reader
One singular video edit
Commander Fox
Reader-insert short series: ongoing
I don't know how the night might change us - Fox x Padawan!Reader / Fox x fem!Reader
One-shots
Life Day fic - Fox x GN!Reader
Too Real - Fox x fem!JediReader
ARC trooper Fives
Long fic - status: WIP
A song of past romance - Fives x Padawan!OFC Rhea | inquisitor Fives AU
One-shots
You Didn’t Even See the Signs - Fives x fem!Reader
Jealousy, jealousy - Fives x fem!Reader
Commander Wolffe
Reader-insert series
Tear you apart - Wolffe x fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 at some point
One-shots
Girl, you got it right - Wolffe x medic!Reader / Wolffe x fem!Reader
Come on and break me down - Wolffe x medic!Reader
I sing to you, I circle you - Wolffe x jedi!Reader
Captain Howzer
One-shots
Where the Wind Breaks - Howzer x Jedi!Reader
Clone Medic Kix
One-shots
In Case of Forgotten Heating Pad, Use a Clone Medic Instead - Kix x fem!reader
Commander Bacara
By the stars above, I know we were in love - Bacara x Jedi!Reader
Random memes I make under the #bunny's silly memes
If anyone wants to be tagged in anything, let me know 🌛
Pairing: Wolffe x fem!Reader / Wolffe x Jedi!Reader
Word count: 5.9k
Tags/Warnings: pure angst; reader falls to the dark side; canon-typical violence; implied killing
Summary: Your love for him pushed you to the dark side. But could it also be the thing that pulls you out?
Promps: Week 7 Alternate prompt - "I won't leave you. Not again."
A/n: been listening to Noah Kahan’s Orbiter a lot and this sort of came out of it. might turn it into a full fic at some point, would be interesting to explore the themes i touch on here further.
Thank you @summer-of-clones for hosting this event and for the cool prompts and banners! 🌜
When the war started, you believed in the Republic. Truly, you did. You believed in the Jedi, in your purpose. You knew you were a protector, knew that was the life you had to live. And, even if you didn’t like it, you understood that, sometimes, protecting something meant making difficult decisions.
So you bit your tongue when the Jedi assumed military roles, even if it felt like the Order was going against everything it stood for, and you did what you could to prepare yourself for the responsibility of being a commander. But you never could have anticipated how heavily that responsibility would weigh on you, nor how much it would change you.
At least your Master was always great, calm and patient. He never rushed you, never pushed you to take the Trials, even as the need for Jedi generals grew. Plo Koon was always kind and understanding about you needing more time.
Or, maybe he saw the darkness in you before it even began spreading throughout your mind.
You would never know. He never came to see you after your fall, after you became his worst possible disappointment. And then he died, and you were left with this burning question to torment you.
Well. One of the questions anyway.
The others were all about Wolffe.
Wolffe. CC-3636. The feared and reputable commander of the Wolfpack. The man who still haunted your dreams.
He was as steady a presence in your life as the primary moon in Coruscant’s sky.
He was the person who kept you afloat when you were about to drown.
He was your first love – your only love, really.
And he was the one person you regretted hurting the most.
It started as friendship. He was intimidating, confident, steadfast, and you looked up to him for guidance. But the more time you spent together, the closer you got, circling each other until he eventually lowered his guard and let you truly see him. You were actually surprised to find that he was genuinely funny, and that his sternness was only a mask to cover how deeply he cared for his men. You saw it in the way he always checked on the wounded before allowing the medics to patch up his own injuries. Or in the way he sat with shinnies during leave, helping them place the Wolfpack stencil on their armor. Once you started noticing these small, endearing details, they were simply impossible to ignore. He was impossible to ignore.
Then, the two of you started hanging out between mission, in those long stretches of time spent in limbo while the ship travelled through hyperspace. You started going to him for comfort, reassurance, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze would soften every time it turned in your direction.
Maybe you should’ve stopped it. You did know better. But you were never meant to be surrounded by so much pain and death. Every battle lost pulled you deeper down into an abys. And every trooper’s death left a stain on your soul that no amount of meditation would wash off.
He understood. Really, truly understood. He didn’t scold you for getting attached, didn’t urge you to let go as if that was an easy thing to do. He held you if you needed to cry, or he sparred with you if you needed to burn the pain through movement.
And so, after a terrible loss that left you feeling raw and vulnerable, you went to him, even if your Master’s teaching echoed in your head. Wolffe was hurting too, just as affected by the recent battle – if not more. So when you kissed him, he kissed you back even deeper. And when you surrendered yourself to him fully, body and soul, he accepted it as if you were his most sacred mission.
The next morning you decided it couldn’t happen again, and you tried – Maker, you really tried – to go back to being friends. But a line crossed cannot be uncrossed, and both of you craved the other’s touch as if it was air. You didn’t even last a week before you fell back into his bed, needing him more than you’d ever needed anything before in your life. And then, you kept going back.
You didn’t name it for a long time. You tried to pretend it was nothing but a physical need for release. Yet, you were both utterly faithful to each other, until, funnily enough, he was the first to crack and confess his love.
Hearing ‘I love you’ from a man like Wolffe shifted something in you. It shifted your entire perspective on the world and your purpose in it. Confessing your own feelings and sensing his happiness through the Force was one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever experienced, and for the life of you, there was no way you could’ve understood how anything so warm and pure could ever lead you down a dark path.
The love wasn’t the problem. The love was sweet and innocent as first loves almost always are. It’s what you did with it that turned it wrong.
You let it consume you, let him become the centre of your universe. Then you started seeing the war differently. Suddenly, it wasn’t a horrible ordeal that was hurting millions of innocents whose lives you were happy to protect – no, the war became something that was directly threatening you and your happiness.
Maybe that’s why it was so easy for Dooku to get inside your head.
It happened on a mission in the Outer Rim. You got separated from your Master, from Wolffe and the rest of your squad – and you found yourself face to face with the Sith.
That was the moment everything changed. It took Dooku no time at all to see right through you, to sense your attachment to Wolffe, to find all your darkest fears and bring them out into the light, twisting them into weapons stronger than any defence you could’ve conjured.
“They’re using you, young Padawan,” he said, blocking with ease all the desperate hits of your lightsaber. “Just like they’re using the clone troopers.”
“Shut up!”
“The truth is never easy to hear,” the Count continued. “They told you I’m a monster, didn’t they? That the Confederacy is the face of evil. And yet, they’re the ones using slaves to fight their battles. Tell me, Padawan, what is more evil? People fighting for their own freedom from an oppressive ‘republic’, or forcing men to fight for someone else’s freedom, for something they will never experience – all while treating them worse than we treat our droids?”
You stopped attacking, staring at Dooku as you struggled to catch your breath. The rational part of your mind – the part clinging to all the years spent in training, all the hours of meditation in pursuit of serenity – was screaming at you to keep fighting, push him out of your head, hold him off long enough for Master Plo to get to you and help you take him down.
But your heart was listening. Your heart was seeing the dark truth behind his words.
When your Mater finally got to you, Count Dooku had already escaped. But the doubt he planted in your mind would not retreat.
That same night the dreams started – these horrible glimpses of suffering and death.
Not yours, never yours.
Wolffe’s.
You saw him bleeding out on the battlefield, saw him caught in a trap that the Jedi had sent him in. Or, even worse, you saw him sentenced to death for the mere act of loving you. His humanity didn’t matter, it never mattered, and neither did your pleading to spare his life. The outcome was always the same. And you would wake up heaving and crying, and if Wolffe was in bed beside you, he would try to soothe you. But you never told him that his hypothetical demise was the thing unwillingly causing you so much distress.
After weeks, you cracked – and when another mission brought you face to face with the Count one more time, you did the one thing you never would have believed possible.
You asked for his help.
☾
The plan made sense. Barriss had tried something similar only a couple months before, but she thought too small, not going to the true root of the problem. The Temple wasn’t your target. The Republic needed to fall. And what better way to make that happen than kill the Chancellor and all the senators in one swift blow.
Count Dooku arranged for someone to smuggle explosive onto Coruscant, and all you had to do was meet the contact in the Works, place the bombs around the Senate Rotunda, then get to Wolffe and flee the planet together until the dust settled.
You didn’t know what would happen once all the leaders of the Republic were gone, but, if you were honest, you didn’t even care. All you knew was that you and Wolffe were promised safe passage to Serenno, and that once there, you could finally build a life together. Dooku even said he would train you, give you the power to protect your lover.
Sure, the price you had to pay for your freedom was huge. But it was worth it. He was worth it.
If only things would’ve worked out.
The first part of the plan went smoothly. You got the explosives, you found your way inside the Senate, you placed them around the important structural points of the building, according to the schematics you’d sliced from the Temple Library, and you synced everything to a hand-held detonator. All while the Senate Chamber was slowly filling with all the senators you had to eliminate, but also with the representatives from the Jedi Council and GAR Command, for an emergency extraordinary session.
Then you sneaked out, and all that was left for you to do was cross the Plaza before you could detonate the bombs.
And Maker, you were so close – only a few meters separated you from the place where you could safely pull the trigger.
But that’s when you heard them.
That dreadful symphony of armored footsteps. Closing in. Surrounding you.
You expected red, the crimson threat of the Coruscant Guard – men that, even if it would’ve filled you with regret, you would’ve fought, cut down so you could reach your objective. But the troopers that surrounded you wore the grey markings that you yourself were wearing. And you heart clenched when you saw Wolffe leading them.
The Commander stopped right in front of you, but not far enough to be out of the danger zone were you to detonate the bombs. He looked at you, his blasters slightly shaking in his hands, before his gaze landed on the detonator clutched tightly in your left fist. You could feel the confusion surrounding him in the Force, but something else too. The helmet was concealing his face, but you were certain his eyes met yours – only, whatever he saw made him feel… afraid.
“Tell me they’re wrong,” he demanded.
“About what?” you asked, trying to play dumb.
“Tell me they’re wrong and you didn’t plant bombs in the kriffing Senate!” he growled.
Your hand unconsciously moved to the hilt of your lightsaber, fingers curling around the cool metal. Immediately, Sinker and Boost aimed their blaster higher, and a surge of anger shot through your body.
“Walk away!” you ordered. “I know what I’m doing, and, trust me, it’s for the best!”
Wolffe took a step forward, his voice coming out like the roar of thunder, “Have you lost your damn mind?”
How could he not see that you were doing this for him? You were burning your life down for him? The Council wouldn’t let you be together. The Republic was keeping the both of you in chains. They needed to be destroyed so that your love could flourish.
“I have to do this!” you shouted. “It’s the only way.”
The desperation in your voice made him flinch.
“You don’t mean it, mesh’la,” he pleaded, his tone softening as he took another cautious step forward. “Just put the detonator down. We can fix this, it’ll be okay.”
“Fix it?” you spat, the words crawling up your throat like bile. “I am fixing it! This is the only way, Wolffe! We can’t be free unless the Jedi and the Republic burn.”
Wolffe closed his eyes, a shaky breath filtering out the helmet. He truly was so grateful for it – no one could see the tears rolling down his cheeks as he raised his blasters higher.
“I cannot let you do that,” he said firmly. “I am a soldier of the Republic, and I will protect it. Even if I have to kill you…”
You stared at him, mouth parted and eyes burning with fury. After everything the two of you had been through, after everything you meant to each other, after all the promises whispered in the middle of the night – he was going to betray you. Just like that.
The anger that followed was blinding.
“Traitor!” you roared, igniting your lightsaber. Your voice came out wrong and distorted.
Instantly, one of the Wolfpack troopers fired his blaster, and you spun to deflect the blow. Another shot came from your left, then another two from the man standing right in front of you. Maybe it was the surprise to see that he would actually fire on you. Maybe the all-consuming rage was clouding your senses. Maybe you simply weren’t fast enough. But whatever the cause, the plasma of your blade did not block Wolffe’s shots, and the stun bolts hit you right in the chest. Then, you felt a cold numbness spreading through your body, forcing you to your knees. The detonator slipped from your grasp, rolling over to his boot. But Wolffe didn’t pick it up – his helmet remained fixed on you as the world melted away.
☾
The cells in the detention centre were inhumane. The bed was hard and uncomfortable, and you weren’t even provided with a pillow or a blanket, condemned to always be a little cold, just enough to make you feel permanently uneasy. There was barely any light too, the rays of Coruscant Prime struggling to pass through the poor excuse of a window you had to strain on your tiptoes to be able to gaze out of. Otherwise, the space was dark, except for the ever-present red glow coming from the floor and from the force filed sealing you inside.
A whole week had passed since your fast-tracked trial. The Jedi wasted to time to strip you of your rank, and the Republic was just as quick to throw you in prison. Plo Koon didn’t even have the decency to remain inside the Court Chamber during your sentencing, and had not come to talk to you since. But his absence wasn’t really the one affecting you the most.
After days of festering in your anger and self-loathing, you were starting to lose hope you would ever speak to Wolffe again. Even in the wake of his betrayal, you still concealed your relationship. You’d kept your motive vague, talking about the clones in general when explaining why you wished to destroy the Republic – all so that you would protect him.
And he wasn’t even going to come see you?
The rage within you kept growing with every passing rotation.
But, at the end of the day, Wolffe was still Wolffe. He was fiercely loyal and devoted, even when hurt. So, in the second week, he finally came.
The force field flickered before turning off, and you sat up from the bed just in time to see Commander Fox in the threshold – and right behind him, Wolffe, who carefully walked down the steps, but refused to meet your eyes.
“You got five minutes,” Fox said, stepping back and allowing the force filed to reignite.
You got to your feet, and eagerly moved towards him, craving his embrace as much as you’ve been craving the warmth of the sun on your skin. Unfortunately, Wolffe didn’t share your enthusiasm, and he held his palm up, stopping you in your tracks. A deep frown was etched on his face, stretching the upper corner of his scar, and making him appear as mean and unapproachable as when you’d first met.
“How could you?” he finally asked, his gaze fixed on the cuffs binding your hands. The bright, red glow they scattered through the darkness was a beacon of your powerlessness, as the device dampened your ability to wield the Force.
“How could I?” you retorted, anger quickly twisting in your mind. “How could you?! I was doing it for you – for us!”
Wolffe shook his head. “I never asked for this. What we had was enough.”
“Enough?” you repeated, huffing a bitter laugh. “What? Being a secret? Having to hide our love? That was enough for you?”
“Yes!” Wolffe shouted. “It was enough! It was more than I ever thought I would have.”
“And you don’t see how that’s the problem?” you demanded. “The Republic treats you like-like a thing! A droid, a-a slave! And the Jedi are all complicit! That was supposed to be enough?!”
“I know my place!” Wolffe growled. “And I know my purpose. And you– you were supposed to talk to me – if you had doubts, fears – you were supposed to talk them through with me. Instead you lied and decided to commit terrorism!”
“I was trying to protect you!” Tears were flowing down your face, hot and bitter and filled with anger. “I was trying to end this fucked up, unnecessary war.”
“By blowing up the Senate?!”
“Yes!” You took a step forward, grabbing his hand in both your restrained ones and bringing it to your chest. It was a gesture filled with desperation, a plea for him to look at you, to actually see you and see how much you loved him “They deserved it! Every single one of those-those vermin deserved to burn! They caused it, don’t you see? All this suffering, all the lost lives of your brothers. I was doing it for you, Wolffe.”
He frowned, looking almost disgusted as he yanked his hand free.
“I don’t even recognise you.”
“How can you say that?” you asked, your voice smaller than it’s ever been.
“Have you even seen yourself?” Wolffe shot back. “Have you seen your eyes?”
“Is that what this is about?” you scoffed. “You feel threatened by my powers?”
“What? That’s not–”
“You liked it when I was this good, obedient little Padawan who looked up to you, but now that I’ve grown more powerful you’re what – emasculated?”
He shook his head, taking a step back towards the stairs.
“How can you even say that?” he asked.
He didn’t sound angry anymore. There was no bark behind the words. They were just… sad, and resigned. And somehow, that was worse.
With a last, wounded glance at the cuffs around your wrists, Wolffe climbed the five steps to the cell exit, banging his fist loudly against the durasteel.
Your chest immediately tightened. “Y-You can’t just leave me here!”
The force filed lowered, and he stepped outside.
“Wolffe!”
You hurried to the steps, only to be met by a crackle of electricity when one of the Corrie guards powered up his electro-staff as a warning. That made you stop dead, knowing better than to try anything. But you kept staring at your lover’s side profile, and for a second, you thought there were tears in his eyes.
“Don’t leave me here!” you implored.
The red shield flickered back to life, and all you could do was watch powerless as Wolffe walked away.
☾
When the war ended, you were still in prison.
When a Pau'an man whose presence felt familiar, as if he was someone you might have seen around the Temple, came to offer you your freedom, you took it.
When you found out what had happened – the chips, Order 66, Emperor Palpatine – you started to think that maybe you had been deceived.
But there was nothing you could do.
You were taken to Fortress Inquisitorius, forced to fight for your survival, forced to kill or be killed. And you succeeded, you had months of rage as fuel. Wolffe’s betrayal still sent a jolt of pain straight through your heart, might as well use it for something.
What other choice did you have anyway?
Then, you were given a black helmet and a red lightsaber and told to hunt down any remaining Jedi – former friends, familiar faces… But it was them or you. That’s what you told yourself to be able to sleep at night.
But when you did sleep, you dreamt of him.
And the questions started forming.
Was he alright? Was he now a soldier of the Empire? Did he still think about you or had the chip erased every trace of your love from his mind? Would he be repulsed by what you have become?
Those first two questions were easy to answer – you had access to imperial databases now, and had high enough clearance. It took no time at all to find out that his status was still ‘active’, as well as where he was stationed.
The other two questions? Well, if you were honest, you didn’t even want them answered. What would be the point? You already knew he resented your power. He’d rejected you once and he would do so again.
That, if he was even still himself. If those damned chips didn’t turn him into a mindless… clone.
So you didn’t go find him, no matter how much you deep down wanted to.
Instead, you bowed your head to the Grand Inquisitor and to Lord Vader. You followed their orders rotation after rotation and month after damned month, doing unspeakable things you never would’ve thought yourself capable of.
Still, every now and then you’d check his file, just to know he was still alive.
Until, one day, over three years since the war ended, Wolffe’s status changed to AWOL.
And, you couldn’t lie to yourself that you weren’t jealous he got out.
☾
The air in Jedha City was cold and dry, and somehow the dust managed to sneak its way inside your helmet, passing through the filter and scratching your throat with every breath you took. You marched with fast, determined strides through the Old Market, and at the sight of your flowing, black cape, the crowd instantly parted and averted their eyes. The Empire was not a welcome presence on this planet, but, from what you understood, that was soon about to change, as squads of stormtroopers were being prepared to establish a permanent presence through every major city. You, however, didn’t plant to stay long.
Truthfully, you were itching to get away. The pull of the Force in this place was stronger than anything you’d felt in a long time, and it kept whispering in your head about second chances you knew you didn’t deserve.
That’s because you were here to kill someone. There’d been a possible sighting of a Jedi, and you knew you had to act quickly before they disappeared. Lately, the survivors of the purge kept slipping through your and the Inquisitors’ fingers, vanishing almost into thin air. It had started happening more noticeably after a long string of clone prisoners’ “liberations”, but no one had seemed to make the connection but you. Perhaps you should’ve shared your suspicions with the Grand Inquisitor, but the soft spot you still annoyingly carried in your heart for the clone troopers prevented you from speaking.
But you’d been given this mission directly by Lord Vader himself, and you knew that if you returned empty-handed, you would be the one to pay with your life.
If only this damned city would let you concentrate, sense the fear of the fugitive you were searching for. But the closer you got to the Kyber Temple, the louder the Force hummed through the cold air. You swore you could feel it in your bones. It felt like a warning, like something final. And yet, it also felt soothing, as if you were about to find a puzzle piece that had long been lost, leaving you incomplete.
You shook your head, trying to push the whispers out. You didn’t listen to the Force anymore – the Force listened to you. Ever since you regained your freedom, the Force had become nothing but a weapon for you to wield, a means to an end. You did not need its guidance any longer. Besides, it was probably nothing. The remnants of whatever Jedi once lived on this planet were simply trying to push you away, deter you from fulfilling your mission.
Coming to a stop in the middle of a square, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, attempting to tap into the rage that kept you going. But it wasn’t that easy anymore.
After all this time, the pain had dulled, the anger had tempered, the taste for blood had been lost. You had spent many nights thinking, contemplating the choices that had brought you here. And you’d realised, one rainy evening as you watched the waves crash on a window of the Fortress, that what you were now feeling was regret.
Maybe you should’ve done things differently. Maybe you should’ve made better choices. Maybe you didn’t really have anything left to fight for.
A sudden explosion snapped you back into the present, and you looked up to see a cloud of smoke and dust rise into the air a few streets away. The blast came from the direction of one of the secondary gates – just as you suspected, your visible presence in the city had forced your target and whoever was helping them out of hiding and to one of the few possible exits, which you made sure would be protected by the small squads of stormtroopers you’d brought with you.
You ran in that direction, grabbing your lightsaber from its place on your back. A blasterfight was already raging ahead, so you ignited the two red blades, preparing for attack.
But as you got closer and the dust began to settle, the sight that awaited you made you stop dead in your tracks.
The target was a young Tholothian girl, still in her teens, who was somehow diverting the blasterbolts shot her way despite her very poor form. But fighting alongside her were three men. Three clones. Even in their civvies, their faces were impossible to mistake.
And one in particular flooded your chest with emotions so strong that your head started spinning,
The relief came first. Seeing Wolffe alive and well lifted a weight from your shoulders you didn’t realised you’d been carrying ever since learning he deserted. Anger came second however. That burning rage coiling in your gut when you realised that, once again, you were on different sides. But the next moment, you were happy, so, so genuinely happy to see him that tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. Yet, the happiness didn’t last long before it was replaced by fear and dread.
Wolffe was aiding and abetting a Jedi. The same Jedi you had to kill.
You tightened your grip on your lightsaber, but found that you were frozen in place.
You knew what you were supposed to do. Hell, you’d struck people down for less. And yet, now you simply couldn’t bring yourself to. You couldn’t make your body move even as the stormtroopers carrying out your orders were being gunned down.
One of the clones finally noticed you – Rex, you recognised him from all the missions the 104th and the 501st had done side by side – and shouted a warning.
“We got Inquisitors!”
The Padawan looked your way, and you could see the exact moment the really bad idea formed in her head. Jumping over an enemy trooper, she charged at you, her fear all too clear through the Force.
“Kid, don’t!” the other clone you didn’t recognise yelled, still shooting at the stormtroopers left standing.
Her desperate hit was extremely easy to parry, and before she could even think of her next move, you had pushed her blade down, then connected your foot to her abdomen, kicking her away from you. She stumbled and fell on her ass with a soft grunt, while her lightsaber dropped between the two of you, in the dust.
It would’ve been so easy to finish your mission right now – five seconds, maybe less, to drive your saber through her heart while the clones were still busy.
But that wasn’t what you choose to do.
Instead, you extinguished your red blades, returning the weapon to its place on your back, before crouching down to retrieve the girl’s. Then, in an instant, you were right in front of her.
“Your Ataru is sloppy,” you criticized, extending the lightsaber for her to take. “Either improve it or stick to Soresu. The next Inquisitor will not hesitate to strike you down.”
“Why did you hesitate?” she asked, her voice as shaky as the hand accepting her lightsaber.
You made no reply.
By this time, the clones had finally finished taking out the stormtroopers, and were now closing in on you, weapons raised. You almost wanted to laugh. The feeling of déjà vu as Wolffe held you at balsterpoint was downright comical. Who said the Force didn’t have a sick sense of humour?
But having him right in front of you again also hurt in a way you never could’ve predicted. The civvie disguise fit him incredibly well, and on his jaw and cheeks, you could see facial hair longer than you’d ever seen before. He did always say he wanted to grow a beard – the thought made you smile despite yourself.
And, Maker, his eyes. Just as sharp, just as focused and determined. Just as beautiful. You couldn’t look away.
“Take her and leave,” you ordered as Rex helped the Padawan to her feet, immediately guiding her to stand behind him.
“You’re letting us go?” the other clone asked, voice cracking slightly on the last word. “What – out of the goodness of your heart?”
“I have my reasons,” you said, your gaze still fixed on Wolffe.
“Let’s go,” Rex said, eyeing you carefully as he began walking backwards to the gate.
The other clone followed his lead, weapon still aimed right at your chest.
But Wolffe didn’t move.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” he asked, lowering his dual blasters.
His voice made your heart flutter – raspy and low and so much softer than you expected. And his eyes had softened too, giving you a look that carried a flicker a hope. One you unfortunately were going to have to extinguish.
“Move along, clone!” you hissed. “Before I change my mind.”
Wolffe did move, but the step he took brought him closer to you.
“Vod, what the hell are you doing?” Rex called. “We need to go!”
“Go without me,” Wolffe shouted back without taking his gaze off of you.
“Did you not hear me?!” you barked, heart racing in your chest. “I said leav–”
Wolffe said you name, instantly killing any spiteful words or empty threats you were about to throw. Your vision blurred with tears the second the last syllable left his lips – you honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone had called you that.
You’d been a sister, a number, a weapon. A monster. But not you.
You haven’t been you in a very long time.
A broken sob was ripped from your throat, coming out loud and distorted through the vocoder. Before you knew it, Wolffe was right in front of you, his fingers lightly brushing the sides of your helmet. And when you didn’t fight him – didn’t push his hands away or step back – Wolffe lifted it off.
Instinctively, you screwed your eyes shut, almost ashamed to meet his gaze with the sulphurous yellow that now stained your irises. You heard a thud next to you on the ground – most likely from your discarded helmet. And then you felt it. His hand cradled your face. The contact made you suck in a sharp, startled breath – and filled your heart with a warmth that scared you.
“Cyare,” Wolffe whispered.
You took a step back, opening your eyes to look at him. “You need to leave before reinforcements arrive!”
“Come with me,” he pleaded.
“Go with the kid, get her to safety,” you countered. “I’m… I’m too far gone.”
“You’re not,” Wolffe disagreed, stepping right back in your space and grabbing both your hands in his. “You’re not, mesh’la. You can always choose to start over. I did. I stayed with the Empire for far too long. But I got out eventually, and you can too.”
“Wolffe! We need to go!” Rex shouted again from the gate.
“I’m not leaving without her!” Wolffe answered, his voice filled with determination.
Tears were streaming down your face despite all your efforts to keep them at bay. His orbit was pulling you in so easily, just like all those years ago. But you knew, deep down in your rotten soul, you did not deserve a second chance. You weren’t the person he wanted. He was looking for the girl he knew; he was looking for the Jedi he fell in love with. And that wasn’t who you were anymore. He himself had said he didn’t recognise you, and since that moment, since the last time you saw each other, you’ve only drifted farther away from your old self.
But still, you needed him to be safe. You needed him to stay alive.
“Wolffe, please,” you tried again. “The rest of the stormtroopers will get here any moment. You have to go!”
“I won’t leave you,” he declared. “Not again.”
“But will you forgive me?” you shot back, desperate and angry. “Fall in love with me again?!”
“Cyare, I never stopped loving you.”
The words settled between the two of you like a layer of fresh snow, landing softly, carefully, and momentarily covering your fears. Just enough so that you could see a glimpse of a better future. One with him.
“Are you sure?” you asked, breathless. “Because I... I’m not the same person.”
His hands came up to frame your face, and Wolffe leaned in, touching his forehead to yours. “I’m not the same either. We’ve both changed. We can figure it out later, but right now, please – please just come with me.”
“Echo’s here with the ship,” Rex announced, interrupting your moment as he jogged closer to you and Wolffe. You couldn’t spot the Padawan or the other clone, so you could only assume they’d already boarded. Rex looked at you, a flicker of recognition passing over his eyes before he gave you a short nod. “We need to go now!”
Any fear or hesitation that might have kept you in place for longer was pushed away by the blastershots coming from behind you. The stormtroopers you’d placed at the other exits and at the spaceport had finally crossed the city. The Captain started backing away, weapon raised and firing quickly at the approaching enemy.
Wolffe let go of your face, pulling out one of his blasters, while his other hand firmly grasped yours. He gave you a look, another wild and frantic plea – and this time, you nodded.
And when he started pulling you after him, towards the ship – towards safety, towards a second chance at life, a second chance with him – you didn’t fight his orbit anymore.
Can you do clones favorite ways to be touched? Tbb and commanders but any others you want are good too, Sfw pls
Thank you! 🫶
Clones x gn reader: favorite ways to be touched
Includes TBB and Commanders (Rex, Cody, Wolffe, Fox, Thorn, Bly, Bacara, Neyo, Gregor, Mayday)
Warnings: none
TBB
Hunter:
Generally okay with touch and physical affection but prefers predictable touches, especially if his senses are bothering him/overwhelmed
Loves when you comb your fingers through his hair, he finds it really calming/soothing
Also loves when you trace his tattoo (which I firmly believe goes down his entire side), especially the portions on his chest and back
Likes when you really lightly drag your nails along his skin when you’re cuddling, it makes him shiver every time
Tech:
Mildly touch-averse and generally prefers close proximity to overt physical affection
When he does feel like being touched he likes kinda passive contact like sitting with your sides/arms brushing or if you hook your ankle around his under the table
Probably his favorite thing is when you massage his hands and knuckles when they cramp up
Wrecker:
Touch is obviously a super important way Wrecker communicates, especially when it comes to care/affection, and he's very receptive to really any contact you initiate
Craves full body touch, like you completely draped over him in bed or making sure you're totally pressed against him when you hug him. Loves when he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. Wants you to hold him as tight as possible
Chest rubsssss
Crosshair:
Used to be one of the better ones with touch but has a complicated relationship with it post-Tantiss. Has some physical trigger areas that he prefers you avoid, especially his neck
Prefers more subtle affection like holding his hand under the table or slipping your arm around his waist when you’re sitting next to each other and no one can see
Also really likes quick little gestures like a brief peck on the cheek, because it's a quick little absent reminder you love him that doesn't draw a lot of attention
Lovesss when you pull him closer by his hips when you wanna hug him or kiss him or whatever
Echo:
Simultaneously really touch-starved and touch-averse without entirely realizing it. Tenses up at touch a lot even when he's fully expecting it. Likes softer, minimal touches esp when he's still kinda adjusting to regular physical affection
The skin/seams around where his cybernetics are attached are really sensitive and he usually prefers if you avoid touching the areas, though sometimes he likes really really soft kisses there
Honestly finds just like basic, straightforward hugs really comforting. Doesn't matter if they're light and gentle or super tight, he just likes being held
Commanders
Rex:
Pretty touch-starved but kinda represses it, most used to practical touches like placing his hand on someone's shoulder when reassuring them or gripping someone's elbow to steady them. Really melts into affection in private though
Really likes when you lazily trace shapes along his skin with your fingertips or when you trace along his muscles
Also after he takes his armor off he's often sore where the armor seams are so he likes when you massage/kiss those places
Back scratches
Cody:
Naturally pretty affectionate with you and comfortable with touch, usually preferring smaller touches unless he's feeling particularly needy or stressed
If he's working he likes when you come up behind him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting him lean back and rest his head against your shoulder
When he hugs you it's always very tight, wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you as close as possible as he buries his face in your neck
Secretly likes being the little spoon
Wolffe:
Generally guarded about touch and when he initiates he's very assertive about it, but honestly he kinda almost prefers when you initiate
Goes very weak for really firm neck and shoulder rubs, just carries SO MUCH physical stress and I feel like he's constantly tense lol
Really likes when you trace his scars but he pretends not to. If he's feeling particularly tired and he gets a little softer though he'll lean into it and his eyes go all half-lidded
Fox:
So insanely touch-starved to the point where like even when you're actively touching him he always needs more
Lovesss having you in his lap esp if it's late and he's stuck working on reports and stuff
Also likes to rest his head in your lap and have you play with his hair/scratch his head, gets annoyed whenever you stop and looks up at you all irritated
Thorn:
Pretty naturally affectionate with you, likes casual, easygoing, frequent touch
Honestly really likes hand holding and always laces his fingers through yours whenever you're near him
A big fan of quick passing affection, like if you nudge your shoulder against his or squeeze his hip when you walk past him
Bly:
Not super naturally inclined to initiate touch on his own but craves it very intensely
Loves a long, quiet forehead press, usually pecks your lips or cheek before pulling away. It feels really intimate and he just really likes that
Likes lifting you up tbh esp if he hasn’t seen you in a while he lifts you up a lil when he hugs you and rocks from side to side
Bacara:
Forcefully represses his need for affection to the point of very mild touch aversion and genuinely believes he doesn't need it
Likes when you touch his shoulders. Like if he kisses you and you clutch at his shoulders or if you pick up that he’s not doing well and reach out to give his shoulder a lil squeeze he really likes it
Secretly loves when you cuddle with him in bed, your head on his chest and a leg draped over him. Pretends to be asleep every time though so you can't call him out
The bicep hold™
Neyo:
Tends to be a little detached and kinda uncomfortable with overly soft or gentle touches, prefers to find excuses for touch through practical things
Likes when you adjust his armor for him, it gets you close to him while he can pretend it's just practical lol
Secretly really loves if you grab onto his arm and hold onto him if you're like surprised or scared or excited
Gregor:
Expresses himself through affection with you pretty frequently and seeks out touch from you a lot
Likes hugging you from behind and loves when you do the same
Really likes when you give him little kisses all over his face, it makes him laugh and instantly puts him in a good mood
Likes lying with his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat esp while he’s falling asleep
Mayday:
Pretty stoic about his own needs but is really gentle and soft when it comes to you and he tends to initiate touch pretty frequently. Mildly touch starved
Really likes when you stroke his hair or beard, your fingers combing through his hair or scratching lightly at his jaw disarms him and he just leans into your hand with a quiet sigh
Likes when you rest your head in his lap, he often then traces over your features really lightly with his fingertips, just kinda admiring you
I am currently watching bad batch and the only thing i was allowed to consume was your text memes to avoid spoilers. Thank you sm for your work i am so content starved <3
Glad to be of service 🫡💖 there's many more coming 😆
In Case of Forgotten Heating Pad, Use a Clone Medic Instead
Pairing: Kix x fem!reader
Word count: ~2.5k
Tags/Warnings: a little suggestive, but not nsfw; reader is on her period; some discussions regarding periods and other natural processes; i'm torturing poor Kix by embarrassing him; poorly-timed(?) boner; first kiss; short n' sweet; a little bit of mutual pining
My first offering for the @gar-romance-month
Event prompt: Cuddling
A/N: inspired by my uterus trying to kill me a few periods ago. Wish I had Kix to take care of me.
Masterlist
Kix is watching you closely. He’s always doing that due to the annoying, frustrating, completely unattainable crush he’s developed after weeks of working with you side by side. Honestly, it was impossible not to fall for you, and he doesn’t understand how the entire damn battalion isn’t completely smitten.
The way you move with graceful, yet deadly precision on the battlefield, wielding your lightsaber like it’s an extension of your very soul.
The way you kneel by the side of injured troopers, sharing your own lifeforce to keep them breathing.
The way you offer kind words and comfort even when you’re drained of power and exhausted.
Kix never stood a damn chance.
It didn’t help that, as the healer assigned to the 501st, you’re always in the medbay, always next to him in and out of the battle. And it definitely didn’t help that, when Jesse noticed his crush on you, he started asking you to join them for meals, for hang-outs in the breakroom or outings at the 79s.
But it’s pointless, useless to even imagine you might harbour the same painfully hidden feelings.
So he watches you, and laughs at your jokes, and does his very best to make you smile.
This time, however, his gaze is full of concern.
Because from the second you sat down across from him at their table in the mess hall, you seemed… off.
Your face is slightly drained of its usual colour, and your eyes seem unfocused, as if exhaustion is tightly wrapped around your body in a cold, suffocating embrace. The food on your plate keeps being pushed around, yet it barely makes its way into your mouth. And you’re just a little hunched over, not holding yourself with the typical Jedi finesse he always admires.
When your eyes meet his, Kix shoots you a quizzical look, tilting his head in a silent question. You reply by slightly shaking your head and waving a hand to dismiss his concern, then move your attention back to the story Fives is retelling about his first embarrassingly unsuccessful attempt at hooking up with a girl.
But Kix can’t pay attention to his vod. His medic intuition is screaming that something is wrong. And when he sees you wince in pain, sweet, worried Kix instantly disappears – and lead medic CT-6116 fully takes over.
“Nope, that’s it. You’re coming to the medbay!” he suddenly speaks, bringing all light-hearted conversation around the table to a standstill.
“Kix, I’m fine,” you object with a small roll of your eyes. “It’s nothing.”
Unfortunately, your point is completely ruined as you grimace and involuntarily wrap your arms around your lower abdomen.
“Something is clearly wrong. Medbay. Now!” Kix orders.
“It’s fine, really,” you keep insisting.
Kix is already standing, levelling you with a sharp, but concerned look. “Don’t make me pull rank.”
The entire table watches the confrontation silently, their eyes moving from you to the medic.
“Maker,” you hiss, frustrated. “It’s just my period, okay? Just a bad cramp. It’ll pass.”
“Oh.”
Kix sits back down on the bench, a blush creeping up the back of his neck.
That is not really something he covered during his combat medic training on Kamino. It simply hadn’t been considered efficient or necessary to teach them about female physiology when every trooper produced was biologically male. For the first time since the war began, Kix feels out of his depth.
Di’kut. He should’ve researched this the moment you joined the team.
“Can’t you – I don’t know – make it go away with your Jetti magic?” Fives asks, leaning to see you better past Hardcase.
“That requires being able to concentrate,” you explain. “And it’s always… difficult for me to do during the first two days.” You pause, rubbing your temples. “Hormonal shifts mess with my focus. Especially with Force healing.”
You almost laugh at the awkward silence that settles over the table. For all their bravery and confidence, at the end of the day, they’re still just boys – with very little experience of the world beyond training sims and battlefields.
“I’ll take a painkiller if you have one, though,” you say, directing the request to Kix.
“Uh right, yes,” he mumbles as he stands. “I’ll get right on that.”
He hurries out the mess, muttering some curses. He just had to choose today of all days to come to lunch only in his blacks, wishing to take advantage of the time spent in hyperspace, where they’re safe from any attacks. But what kind of medic doesn't carry some painkillers on him at all times?
He's in and out of the medbay in under thirty seconds, then quickly makes his way back to the mess. When he walks in, however, he instantly clocks that you're no longer sat at their table.
“Echo is helping her get back to her cabin. She said she needed to lay down,” Jesse explains as soon as he approaches.
Kix spins on his heels and pretty much sprints out the large room and down the corridors, catching up to you and Echo as you're waiting for the turbolift.
“I got it from here,” he announces, walking to your side.
Echo nods to him, then gently claps your shoulder before heading back toward the mess.
“Did you run?” you ask, amused, as you notice his rapid breathing.
Kix shrugs in response, then helps you get in the lift. The cramps have intensified. It's not something completely uncommon that might cause you to worry, but it's bad enough that you lean into his side and allow him to help get you back in your quarters.
You plop down on your cot, while Kix hurries to find a cup to fill with water.
“Left side cabinet,” you instruct, watching slightly amused as he completes his task.
Kix hands you the painkillers and the cup, and you thank him with a weak smile.
Once you take the meds, you push the cover away and lay down on your side, knees drawn to your chest and eyes screwed shut as another cramp claws its way through your body.
Ever the medic, Kix kneels by the bed, and checks your temperature with the back of his palm.
Your eyes open, puzzled to feel his hand on your forehead. “I’m not sick, Kix.”
“Just making sure,” he says.
Without thinking, he cups your face and tilts your head so he can better see your pupils. They seem a little wider than usual, but maybe it’s just the lighting in your room.
“Your hand’s warm,” you remark, leaning a little into his touch.
Kix nearly chokes on air.
“Clones, uh… run hot,” he says as his thumb gently strokes your cheek.
He should absolutely not be touching you, a Jedi, like this. And yet… you’re not pulling away. You’re human, after all, you need the comfort. And he sure as hell is happy to provide it.
You close your eyes and wince as another bad cramp hits you. Kix swears his heart clenches at the small sound you make. It could take half an hour for the medicine to kick in… maybe he should run back to the medbay and get you a bacta shot.
“Kix?” you speak before he can decide what to do. “Could you hold me?”
“W-What?”
He didn’t hear you right… did he? There’s no way you just asked–
“Heat is good for cramps,” you explain softly. “But we shipped out so quickly, I forgot to pack my heating pad.” You hesitate, starting to feel a little nervous at the shocked look on his face. “You’re warm, you know?” you add, quieter.
It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up. Then he moves – quickly, before logic can talk him out of it. Carefully, he climbs into bed behind you, resting his head on a folded arm as he presses close. Impossibly close.
You sigh, content, once you feel the steady heat of him through your clothes. He’s not entirely sure what to do with his other hand, but thankfully you take the lead; you reach for his arm and guide it yourself, draping it over your lower abdomen.
And then you’re just… cuddling. On a bed. In your room. Alone.
Kix is starting to believe that maybe he’s dreaming.
He’s never been this close to you before. Never been able to feel your ribcage expand against his chest as you breathe or smell the floral scent that clings to your hair. It’s intoxicating, and a weird guilty feeling twists in his stomach as he realises he’s somewhat glad you’re in enough pain to need him like this.
It’s horrible, and he hates himself for ever thinking it. But… Maker, he’s been dreaming of holding you like this for so long…
“Thank you,” you murmur as you readjust, trying to get more comfortable. In the process, the hem of your top rides up – and Kix’s fingers brush the soft skin of your abdomen.
And the mortifying effect is immediate.
His eyes go wide as heat floods his body, his lower blacks suddenly far too tight. This isn’t happening to him. Not right now. Kix’s entire body goes as stiff as his growing member and he pulls back slightly from you. The last thing he wants is for you to feel his hardened length on your ass and think he’s some sort of creep.
Kix is not a religious man – but right now he sure is praying to the Maker for you not to realise what’s happening. Stars help him, he’s never felt more embarrassed in his life and his heart is pounding in his chest, all of a sudden hyperaware of how close his fingers are to your core.
Why? Why now when he could finally enjoy being so close to you? Why did his body have to betray him like this?
Unfortunately, you do notice the warmth of his body retreating from the area where you need it most, and how rigidly he suddenly is behind you. It confuses you, and you can only assume he’s uncomfortable because of the position you’ve put him in. The very not professional position.
You need to somehow lighten the air.
“It’s not always this bad,” you mutter. “But sometimes my uterus gets bored and tries to kill me.”
Your joke doesn’t seem to land, as Kix refuses to relax behind you.
“Right, sorry,” you continue with a small chuckle. “The uterus is an organ–”
“I know what the uterus is,” Kix interrupts you with a scoff.
“So you should also know that periods are completely natural,” you state.
Kix groans. “I know that…”
“You sure?” you challenge. “Because you seem uncomfortable and I know some men find periods gross–”
“That’s not why I’m uncomfortable!” he protests, immediately regretting the choice of words.
“So you admit you’re uncomfortable,” you accuse, your tone both amused and slightly irritated.
“N-No, that’s… that’s the wrong word,” Kix huffs, starting to get frustrated. “I misspoke.”
“Then what is it, Kix?” you press. “Why are you so tense?”
“I’m not–”
“You are! And I don’t get–”
“I have an erection, okay?!” Kix blurts out.
“Oh.” You blink, a little caught off guard. “That's uhh… also very natural.”
“Maker take me now,” he mutters.
A heavy, loaded silence falls around you, and Kix feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. Yet he can’t help but notice that you haven’t pushed his arm away or called him a creep like he expected.
Then, suddenly, you move closer to him, pressing your backside right into his pelvis. Kix grunts, strained and involuntary.
“Damn,” you remark, voice a little husky. “You’re big.”
His eyes go wide. This definitely has to be a dream. A cruel trick his mind is playing on him. Because there’s no way you could be this okay with what’s happening.
“Kix? Did it, uhm, just happen or… is there a reason behind it?” you ask.
When you don’t receive a response, you turn to face him, but the medic is doing everything to avoid your gaze. His face is flushed, redder than you’ve ever seen it before, and a pitiful look fills his eyes.
You take a deep breath, hoping you’re not reading this wrong. “What I’m asking is… do you maybe… like me back?”
His eyes snap to yours. “Back?” he repeats, voice tinged with fragile hope.
The nerves are getting to you, so all you can manage in reply is two small nods.
A smile slowly blooms on his face. Hesitantly, his fingers brush some hair behind your ear, before cradling your cheek.
“If I wake up in the barracks and this was all a dream, I’m gonna be so pissed off,” Kix murmurs.
A small, melodic laugh falls from your lips, pulling at his heartstrings. Your hand reaches for him, resting in the middle of his solid chest. A little proof that you’re really there.
“Your heart’s racing,” you observe.
“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “It does that whenever I'm near you.”
You grasp his hand, moving it from your face over your own racing heart. “Mine too.”
Kix huffs a small, incredulous breath. Then, he slowly trails his hand from your chest to the back of your neck, and leans in closer.
“Mesh'la,” he rasps. “Can I kiss you?”
You don't answer with words, instead you tilt your head and close the small distance between you.
The kiss is short and sweet, a tentative brush of your lips against his. The softness on his movements makes you melt. And it sends a rush of electricity through both of your bodies. He’s always been respectful and patient, and you can taste it on him even now.
Kix pulls away first, almost like he needs to make sure you haven’t disappeared. You greet him with a wide smile, and go to kiss him again – only to be stopped by a sharp cramp twisting in your gut.
Your head falls against his collarbone, and a strained whimper sounds in the back of your throat. Kix wraps his arms around you, pulling you tightly into the warmth of his body.
“Still hurts?” he asks, carefully sliding a hand up and down your back.
“A little,” you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. It’s a mix of GAR-issued soap, antiseptic and a little sweat – and somehow, the best thing you’ve ever smelled. “This is really helping.”
“Alright, cyar’ika.” He presses a loving kiss on the top of your head. “Then we’ll stay like this until the painkillers kick in.”
“Wouldn’t mind staying like this after that either,” you murmur against his skin.
Kix chuckles, a low rumble you can feel from his chest.
“Then we’ll stay like this for as long as we can.”
