star nomad & badass riduur

18+. loyal to my baby grogu and his three buir's . masterlist

[dancingwiththeplanets]

Masterlist

Boba Fett:

An Angel Amongst Demons - You're Boba's everything. The one kind, sweet, and tender vice he allows in his life. He'll do anything to shield you from the darkness. (chapter 1) (chapter 2)

Din Djarin:

The Vow (dark!Din) - An unlucky girl crosses paths with a deranged Mandalorian who sees something he likes in her. (pt. I)(pt. II) (pt. III)

Paz Vizsla:

Relief - "I know that we're strangers but something really awful has happened to me and I need you."

Clone Troopers:

Allow me to Walk you Home, Commander (cody x fem!reader) - You stumble upon a drunken Commander passed out outside your bar.

Wolffe Pup (wolffe x fem!reader) - You introduce a very timid Wolffe to your adopted daughter and it's love at first sight.

[beardedmrbean]

[theman]

I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF

[tattooedzombigirl]

This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.

[imanutcase-10]

Then bring me luck

[thirddeadlysin]

the day after I posted this last time I was notified that I was selected for a really cool mentorship gig and got an unrelated glowing review at work

[icantbearsedtothinkofone]

Hey Potato, cure my -ing cold so I can have a good time while away.

[dduane]

Here's the potato. Make what use of it you will. :)

[emma045]

Y/N: You disgust me

Mayday: *eating a kitkat sideways* I know and don’t care

[nahoney22]

Heeey it's me again ! 😁

I would like to make a request with both of the NSFW prompts :

16: “Bite me.” / “If you insist.”

23: “You look like you would beg me to spank you.”

These two with Mayday x female reader , please ❤️

Thanks again ❤️

Reflections***🌊

🫧 Pairings: Mayday X Female!Reader

word count: 3.4k

prompts:

• “Bite me.” / “If you insist.”

• “You look like you would beg me to spank you.”

Finally free from the bone-chilling snow planet of Barton IV, yourself and the squad find yourselves on Coruscant at 79’s. As leading medic, you knew you were in for a messy night, you just didn’t think it would be with Commander Mayday - someone who you never saw eye to eye with. Until right now.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, explicit sexual content and language, semi public sex, p in v sex, cunnilingus, minor enemies to lovers, little bit of bickering, kissing, mirror sex, spanking, light!dom Mayday, minor alcohol consumption, dirty talk, praise kink, heavy flirting, slight self insecurities, medic afab reader, not proofread.

A/N: @griffedeloup hope you enjoy bestie 🫧 🩵 not overly happy with how I’ve written him but I’ve only written for him once before so did my best!

The moment the transmission came through, you could have cried. In fact, you did—along with everyone else. Relief washed over you like a wave, knowing that your time on the ice-locked hellscape of Barton IV had finally come to an end. It was over. You were free. Well, for a few months atleast.

Stepping onto the warm, bustling streets of Coruscant, you felt like you were rediscovering life itself. The city was both familiar and foreign—streets you had once known, now slightly altered by time.

You wandered through the maze of towering buildings, letting your senses drink in the sights and sounds. The fragrant aromas from the street vendors pulled you in, reminding you just how much you had missed the simple pleasure of a good meal, the rich scent of spices, the sweetness of fruits and the sizzling of meats. It felt like waking up from a long, cold slumber.

“How does it feel to be back?” a voice interrupted your thoughts, causing you to jump slightly. You turned to find Commander Mayday standing there, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Even here, on a planet as vast as Coruscant, you couldn’t seem to escape him.

You and Mayday had always clashed. The tension between you two was tense, thickening the air whenever you were in the same room. It was as cold as the icicles that had hung from the ceilings of the cold barracks. He had his way of doing things, and you had yours—conflicting perspectives that often led to bickering and stares sharp enough to cut through ice. As the team's medic, you believed your opinions on the squad’s welfare should carry more weight, but Mayday? He wasn’t so easily convinced.

“Better than being stuck with you lot for eight months,” you replied, resuming your walk through the marketplace. Mayday fell into step beside you, clearly not ready to let you off the hook just yet.

“Come on, you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy a single moment of our time together? I don’t buy it,” he teased, his smirk widening as he caught your eye. You answered with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, but as much as you claim to dislike him, the corners of your mouth threatened to curve upward.

Just as you were about to make your escape, he casually mentioned, “The others and I are heading to 79’s tonight. You should join us.”

The idea of spending more time in Mayday’s company was far from appealing. “I’ll pass,” you said, waving off the invitation. You weren’t in the mood for more of his antics.

“We’ll see about that.” Is all he says before he gives you a small nod and makes his way through the crowd and out of sight.

You sigh and try not to take his words seriously. He drove you crazy.

But why was it that later that evening, as you sat alone in your quarters, boredom creeped in. The silence felt heavy, and you were not used to being on your own. Despite your earlier resolve, you found yourself getting dressed and hailing a cab to 79’s. After all, you needed to have some fun.

When you arrived, the noise and energy of the place hit you like a wall. For a moment, you felt out of place, uncertain if you should even be there. This type of scene was not you, always preferring a more quiet environment. But the familiar faces of your fellow clones soon found you, their warm welcomes and offers to buy you drinks easing your discomfort. You even caught the attention of a few patrons, some of whom attempted to strike up conversation. It was unexpected - flattering, even.

You were engaged in a lighthearted chat with a particularly handsome man who had bought you a drink when you felt eyes on you. Glancing across the room as the gentleman spoke about his work, you locked eyes with Mayday.

Eyes you suddenly found enticing, he was watching you intently. Gaze unreadable but intense. Your fingertips began to tingle and you found yourself quickly downing your drink as the Commanders eyes started to send a strange sensation curling through your stomach. Why was he looking at you like that?

As your conversation with the stranger wound down, Mayday made his way over to you. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place as the man moves on.

“Why? Are you keeping tabs on me now?” you shot back, half-joking, half-serious. You felt nervous all of a sudden and maybe it was because you had never dressed like the way you had in front of him before.

He chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Seems like you have caught a few eyes around here. Yet you seem so unsure about yourself… so shy.”

You swallow hard and look away, smoothing out your dress. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he comments, leaning on the side of the bar as he swirls the ice around in his drink, “you love the attention.”

“I do not!” You spat, eyes wide at his insinuation. You begin to storm off but Mayday is quick to follow, stopping in front of you with his hands up in defence.

“Come on, I’m only kidding.”

You had almost bumped into him but luckily he had gently grabbed your hips to halt you. The touch was overwhelmingly powerful that you felt your whole body still as you met his eyes.

Okay, okay. You will not deny it- he was handsome. Irritating, but handsome. The strobes lights dance across his features, his scruffy yet charming features just inches away from your face. You hadn’t realised how close he was until his breath, tinged with a dark liquor and mintiness, hits you.

His hands drop from your hips and he raises an amused brow at you. “Staring, are we?”

You blink quickly, slightly mortified that you didn’t notice your doe-eyed expression stuck on him.

“Bite me,” you retorted, turning away in an attempt to hide the blush that started creeping up your neck and to find a place to hide.

Suddenly, you froze. Feeling the gentle brush of his hand against your arm, warm and tender. “If you insist,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and flirtatious.

“Are-are you flirting with me?” You ask quietly but just loud enough over the thumping bass of music.

Mayday smiles this time, not a smirk, a genuine smile. “And if I was?”

You blink at him. “I’d ask you what you’ve been drinking.”

He chuckles, low and hearty. “Shall we go somewhere quieter to talk?”

Without another word, Mayday’s hand slid to the small of your back, guiding you away from the crowded bar and towards a quieter, more secluded area. You followed him, your heart pounding in your chest, anticipation and curiosity swirling within you.

You both slid into a secluded booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the bar. As you slid into the seat, the initial excitement you’d felt started to shift into something else—nerves. The silence between you both was thick, and you couldn’t help but fidget with the hem of your outfit, suddenly hyper-aware of how you looked.

Mayday noticed, his sharp eyes never missing a detail. He leaned in closer, his voice softening. “You seem nervous. Is it me?” He chuckled lightly, but there was genuine concern in his tone.

“No, it’s just…” you trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t get it. Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

His expression softened. “Do you think I’ve been horrible to you?”

“Well no but you just disagree with everything I say! And I feel like I’m always having to put you in your place.” Annoyance crosses your features this time as you think back to all the times the two of you butted heads.

“What can I say? Maybe I like a woman who can put me in my place.” Again, your stomach swirls with an unspoken and foreign feeling. He slides an inch closer to you, his scent subtle but makes you inhale silently.

“Commander- I…”

“Just Mayday is fine.” He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, warm against your skin. “Maybe I’ve been too hard on you before,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry.”

You’re at a loss for words, taken aback. Again, you shift and tug idly on your clothes but his hand moves over the top of yours. “Stop.” His tone is soft, “You look stunning.”

Your eyes flutter close, completely transported into a different realm. 79’s no longer exists, Barton IV never existed, just this moment between you both. “I’m not.”

“Shh, shh, shh…” He hushes you, his large hands taking your face into his hands. “You are to me… my pretty lil medic.”

Breath warm against your lips, you meet his gaze one last time before his lips meet yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender. It started slow, a gentle exploration, but quickly grew more passionate as the tension between you finally broke. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss with his tongue lapping over yours while you melted against him.

All sense of time seemed to blur, and before you knew it, he was pulling you from the booth. He led you with purpose, threading through the crowd until you reached the door to one of the bathrooms. With a swift motion, he pushed it open and pulled you inside, locking the door behind him.

The bathroom was small, the walls close to another but thankfully clean and free of any other visitors.

“Come ‘ere.” Mayday wasted no time, his hands gripping your hips as he backed you against the cool tile wall. His mouth found yours again, hungrier this time, his kiss demanding and consuming. You moaned his name into his mouth, the sound muffled by his lips as he pressed his body firmly against yours, the hard planes of his chest meeting your softer body.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes bright with adoration. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough as his hands roamed over your body. “I need you to know that.”

“Say that again,” you instantly purr, the praise practically making you come to life.

“Oh, you like that huh?” He pulls away from your lips, moving to assault your lips with incredible kisses and light nipping, “You like being praised?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasp, tilting your head to give him some more room. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him again once his line of kisses moved up your jaw and to your lips.

The Commander moved with purpose, spinning you around so you faced the mirror. As you met your own reflection, for a moment, you barely recognised the person staring back at—hair disheveled and skin flushed, lips swollen and eyes dark with arousal.

“Look at yourself,” Mayday ordered with a soft tone, his voice a rumble in your ear as he stood behind you. His hands slid under your attire, caressing your skin, and you shuddered at the sensation “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. His hands moved lower, sliding down your sides, and you felt a rush of heat form in your core as his touch set your skin alight. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you felt your knees weaken as his mouth continued its path along your neck. He met your eyes in the mirror, his gaze intense, before he slowly dropped to his knees behind you.

Your breath hitched as his hands slid up your thighs, parting your legs slightly after he exposed your lower half. Your gaze dropped to him in the mirror but he shook his head at you, almost disapprovingly. “Don’t look away,” he instructed, his voice dark and commanding. “I want you to watch yourself.”

Your pulse raced as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down. The cool air of the refresher hit your exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his tongue on your sex.

There was not a willpower in your body that could stop the moan that slipped out your lips. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending alive with pleasure as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spot.

“Keep watching,” he murmured against you, his voice vibrating through you as his hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place. “I want you to see how beautiful you look when you come.”

His words, combined with the skill of his tongue that pushes between your folds, followed by the suction of his lips on your clit pushed you to the brink. “M-Mayday, please!”

Your hands gripped the edge of the sink as you watched yourself in the mirror, your body trembling with the force of your arousal. The sight of him between your legs, the feel of his mouth on you, the sound of his praises—all of it together to send you spiraling towards your climax.

When it finally hit, it was like nothing you had ever experienced. Your vision blurred as your body convulsed with pleasure, Mayday’s name escaping your lips in a breathless cry. Even as you came, he didn’t stop, continuing his relentless assault with his tongue until you were a trembling mess, barely able to stand.

Finally, he pulled back, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before rising to his feet. His hands gently turned you around to face him, and he kissed you again, slow and tender, as if to remind you that this wasn’t just about lust.

As you stood there, breathing heavily, Mayday’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. “Such a good girl. Did you see how beautiful you were?”

A lazy laugh escapes your throat and you lean against the sink to stop your knees from buckling beneath you. “I never thought this would happen.”.

“Enjoying it?”

“Loving it.” You confirm, moaning against his mouth as your now nude body is flushed to his, the worry of anyone even coming in leaving your mind.

As Mayday continued to kiss you softly, each kiss completely put you in a trance until you couldn’t hold back anymore. The ache between your thighs was back, unbearable, a pulse of desire that demanded more satisfaction.

“Please, Mayday,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. “I need you to fuck me. I need you inside me.”

He froze for a moment, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. The hunger in his gaze intensified, his breath hitching as your words sank in. “Turn around then my beauty.” Doing as he asks, you spun around to face the mirror once again. He manhandles you in a way that has you moaning under each touch, tough but also tender as he positions you just as he wanted.

Pressing your hands against the mirror for support, your breath fogs the glass as you lean forward, offering yourself to him. You felt him behind you, his hands running down your body in a teasing manner before gripping your hips with a possessive force that made you gasp, followed by a smirk.

“I’m going to make you feel so good.” A low hum escaped his throat as he aligned himself with you, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked and throbbing entrance. He paused for a moment, his tip brushing over your slick folds, teasing you just a little longer. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice possessive and full of command.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you pressed back against him, needing to feel him inside you. “I need you, Mayday.”

And that was all the encouragement he needed. With a slow thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching and filling you completely. “O-Oh, that’s..”

“Good, baby? Does my cock feel good inside you? Fuck, I’ve been imagining how you feel for so long; my beautiful medic.” The sensation of him so deep, so overwhelming, left you breathless and unable to answer. Your fingers ache as you dig into the mirror as you try to steady yourself but your body shudders with intensity.

Mayday set a gentle pace from the start, his hips a mesmerising roll as he moves into you before his pace starts to quicken. The sound of skin against skin filled the small bathroom, mingling with your moans and his guttural groans. Satisfied with the pace he had set, you begin to feel his hand slide up your back, until he reaches around to your chest.

You bite onto your lip, a moaning mess as both of his hands immediately move to cup them, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he continues to pound into you. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop!” You cry, the sensation of his hands on your tits and large cock pulsing in and out of you indescribable. Thankfully for the music of the club, you didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing you because you were on the edge of screaming his name.

You meet your reflection, something out of a fantasy—your breasts bouncing with each thrust, your flushed face contorted in pleasure, your mouth open as you gasped for breaths. Mayday’s eyes were locked on the image, his gaze dark with lust as he watched you come undone.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” he growled, his fingers pinching your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he thrust harder, deeper. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, each one pushing you closer to the edge. “You look like you’d beg me to spank you.”

“Do it.” You beg in an instant, the continuous praise making your blood burn. You fingers come between your legs, playing with your clit desperate as your need to cum starts to build.

Mayday groans in satisfaction, striking a hand down against your bare arse making you yelp out in a pleasurable pain and ask for him to do it again. And he does. Again, and again.

You found it hard to keep yourself up, the ecstasy almost too much to bear. Mayday’s hands moved back to your hips, gripping them tight before he spins you to face him, sitting you on top of the sink before he continues rutting into you, his pace relentless, merciless.

His beard scratches against your face as his tongue dives straight into your mouth, swallowing your moans as the pressure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s ready to snap. “Come for me,” his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

His words were your undoing. The coil inside you snapped, and you cried his name as you let go, your pussy convulsing all over his cock. “S-shit, oh fuck.” The orgasm ripped through you with a force that left you trembling, breathing ragged as your body dripped in sweat.

And Mayday wasn’t far behind.

With a final, deep thrust, he groaned your name low in his throat, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself inside you, his release hot as he spilled into you. His hips jutted as he rode out his own high, his breath heavy against your ear.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound was the uneven breaths filling the small space. Mayday’s hands slowly released their grip on you, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “You okay?”

You sigh softly, completely spent and exhausted but nod your head lazily. “Fine, great even.” You muse, an almost drunk smile on your lips as your high slowly starts to fade.

Mayday goes ahead and grabs your clothes for you, dusting them off and also grabbing some tissue for you to use. He lets you clean yourself up, offering a helping hand where needed. When you’re both decent, the air is a little thick as you turn to look at each other.

“So,” you start, hands tucked behind your back as you play with your fingers, “what does this mean, exactly?”

“It means,” he says as he approaches you, taking your hands into his own, “you come spend the night with me. And the following night…. And the one after that too.”

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[nahoney22]

Hello there!

Congratulations on 4,500 followers!

May I request a NSFW prompt 30: come closer and keep me warm or something like with F! Reader x Mayday, please?

He needs more love!

Warmth in the Night*** 🌊

🫧 pairings: Commander Mayday X Female!Reader

word count: 1.9k

prompts:

• “Come here and keep me warm.”

plot: Trapped with nothing but a lousy flickering fusion lantern to keep you both warm, yourself and Mayday decide to take advantage of this time alone.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Established relationship, cuddling (amongst other things) for warmth, kissing, consensual sex, p in v sex, cock warming, dirty talk, explicit sexual content language, praising, fingering, trapped in a snow storm.

authors note: im so sorry for the wait @ladypunz and I apologise it’s short! But you’re right, he does deserve some love!

“Do you think it’ll hold?” you ask, your voice trembling as much from the cold as the worry gnawing at you. Together, yourself and Mayday had managed to barricade the rickety door of the abandoned shack you’d stumbled upon, but the raging blizzard outside wasn’t letting up.

Mayday steps back, eyeing the door with his hands on his hips. “Should do,” he says, his tone calm but a little cautious. “And if not… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

You try to laugh, but the bitter cold seeps into every part of you, stealing the sound before it can form. Stars, the bitter breeze stabs at your skin like little needles.

Pushing aside your discomfort, you move to help him gather whatever scraps of blankets and fabric you can find and then drape them around a fusion lantern. It was the only thing providing little warm but its light flickers weakly, threatening to go out at any moment. The thought of it completely shutting down makes you nervous which doesn’t go unnoticed by Mayday.

Setting his helmet on a cracked, uneven table, he steps closer, his gloved hand brushing against your frosty cheek. His touch was warm despite the frigid air.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll get through this. We’ll rest tonight, and by morning, the storm will have passed. Then we’ll make our way to the rendezvous point.”

You lean into his touch, seeking out the comfort it offers, and before you know it, your arms are around his waist, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you knitted to warmth and safety. “At least I’m with you,” you say softly.

His lips curve into a fond smile as he wraps his arms around you, his hands rubbing gently up and down your back in an effort to warm you. “Likewise.”

You were both meant to be delivering supplies to an outpost but were caught off guard by the sudden storm and luckily, you and Mayday had been together for a while now. He liked to tease that you fell for him first, and while that wasn’t entirely untrue, it didn’t mean he didn’t fall harder. He was everything you wanted in a relationship and you were glad he was so calm in a rather precarious situation.

“How are we on rations?” you ask after a moment, sitting down on the pile of tattered blankets whilst he pushes a broken table against the door just for a little extra reinforcement.

He grabs his pack, rummages around, and pulls out two ration bars, offering a wry smile as he hands you one. “At least it’s the flavor you like.”

“Lucky me,” you mutter with a half-smile, taking the bar and nibbling on it. If you were going to be stuck here, you wanted it to last.

Once the makeshift barricades are as secure as they’ll get, Mayday settles in beside you, the two of you huddling under the pile of blankets. The only light comes from the pathetic sputtering lantern, and the majority of warmth from each other. Despite your best efforts, your teeth chatter relentlessly.

Mayday drapes an arm over you, pulling you closer until your back is tucked against his chest. “Come here,” he says, his voice low and soft. “Keep me warm.”

You don’t hesitate, nestling into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder. His warmth envelops you, a small reprieve from the biting cold.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head.

“A little bit,” you admit, your breath shaky, though you can’t deny how much this was helping.

Night falls swiftly, the wind still screaming against your shelter. “I hope this storm ends soon,” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the howl of the wind.

“Me too,” Mayday replies, his arms tightening around you. “But at least the company’s good, right?”

You smile despite everything, catching the teasing lilt in his voice. “It’s perfect,”

“You know,” Mayday murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his fingers trace gentle patterns across your stomach, “it’s been a while since we’ve had some time alone.”

Your eyes, which had been closed in contentment, flutter open. A playful smirk spreads across your lips as you tilt your head just enough to meet his gaze. “You’re right,” you say softly, your voice holding a hint of mischief. “It has been a while.”

Mayday’s answering smirk is wicked, a flicker of heat sparking in his inviting eyes. He leans down, capturing your lips with his, the kiss starting soft but quickly deepening into something more needy.

A gasp escapes you as his hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer. You turn fully to face him, your fingers threading through the textured strands of his long hair, tugging gently. The sensation draws a low groan from his throat, his lips parting against yours as your tongue slips into his mouth.

The kiss turns hungrier, more demanding, as his hands begin to wander. One gloved hand peels away, and when his now-bare palm glides over your skin, the chill of his touch makes you gasp again.

His lips curve into a smirk against yours, and his free hand slips lower, exploring with deliberate slowness until it finds the waistband of your pants. He pauses for just a moment, enough to let anticipation coil tightly in your chest, before sliding his hand inside.

You tremble under his touch, his fingers brushing against your folds. The coldness of his skin sends shivers across your body, but it only heightens the heat rapidly building between you.

“Already wet for me?” he murmurs darkly, his lips brushing against yours. His thumb circles your clit with an intense and measured pace, and he bites down lightly on your lower lip. “You needy girl.”

A whimper escapes you, your body arching into his hand as waves of pleasure roll through you. “C-can’t help it,” you stammer, your voice breathless. “You’ve been neglecting me.”

A low groan rumbles deep in his chest, his mouth moving to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His breath is warm against you, a stark contrast to the icy air around you.

“Let me fix that.”

His fingers move with purpose now, sliding against you with expert precision. Every flick of his thumb, every stroke of his hand, draws soft gasps and moans from your lips. The storm outside is forgotten, the cold replaced by the searing heat of his touch.

“Mayday, shit… don’t stop,” you plead, your voice trembling as you clutch his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his under-armor.

He grins, a low, knowing chuckle rumbling in his chest as he tugs your pants down just enough to give his hand the space it needs. His fingers slide against you, then press inside, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. The sound makes his grin widen. “You feel so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice rough and reverent. “So perfect.”

Your hips buck instinctively against his hand, desperate for more. A string of curses falls from your lips as he adds another finger, spreading you open with a skilled, deliberate rhythm. His lips find your neck again, trailing hot, searing kisses along your skin that make you shudder beneath him.

“Stars, I’m g-gonna—” you stammer, the words caught in your throat as the pressure inside you builds to a dizzying peak after a measly few minutes.

“Yes, you are,” he growls, his voice laced with hungry satisfaction. His lips leave your neck, his gaze locking onto yours as he watches you unravel. Your eyes roll back, your body arching as pleasure crashes over you in an uncontrollable wave.

You come undone, trembling and gasping his name like a prayer. “Yes, you fucking are,” he says, his voice thick with pride, his fingers slowing but never stopping, coaxing every last ounce of bliss from you.

Stars blurred your vision, your body trembling as waves of you come down from your high. You felt drunk on his touch, the aftershocks of your climax leaving you breathless and spent. Sweat glistened on your brow, your legs shaking as you tried to steady yourself.

“That’s it,” Mayday murmured in your ear, his voice low and soothing. He withdrew his fingers carefully, his touch lingering for just a moment before he lifted his hand into the faint glow of the lantern. Slick with your arousal, his fingers shimmered in the dim light.

You closed your eyes briefly, letting the moment sink in, before looking up at him with a lazy, somewhat goofy smile. “I think it’s only fair if I return the favour.”

His lips form into a smirk, and without hesitation, he leaned down to kiss you, his mouth claiming yours with renewed desperation. As his tongue brushed against yours, your hands found their way to the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the latch. Mayday chuckled against your lips, helping you shove them down before kicking them off entirely.

Your breath hitched as his cock sprang free, thick and swollen with need. He gripped it lightly, stroking himself with deliberate slowness.

A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight, and an idea formed in your mind. You slipped your pants completely off and shifted closer, your hand wrapping around his length. He gasped at the initial contact, your touch cold against his heated skin, but the sound quickly melted into a groan as you aligned him with your entrance.

With a gentle roll of your hips, you guided him inside, both of you sighing as he stretched you open and settled deep within. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and he let out a sinful groan, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried his face in your chest.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he rasped needily, “You feel amazing.”

You bit your lip, your walls fluttering around him, clinging to every inch of him as he throbbed inside you. A teasing smile played on your lips as you whispered, “You like this, Commander? You like being in my pussy?”

“I love it,” he groaned, his voice muffled against your skin and knowing full well that you calling him Commander gets him all hot and bothered. One of your hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as you shifted your hips experimentally.

But before you could start moving in earnest, his grip on you tightened. “Stop. Stop,” he panted, his tone commanding yet soft.

You froze, concern flickering in your eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Don’t move,” he said, his voice ragged. Pulling back slightly, he cupped your face with both hands, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re keeping my cock so nice and warm.”

It took a moment for his words to register, but then a playful smile tugged at your lips. “Using me as a cockwarmer, are you?”

“Yes, baby,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. “You’re so damn warm, and it feels so good. Just… let me stay like this for a while.”

Your smile softened, and you leaned into him, brushing your lips against his once more. “Anything you want.”

Settling against his chest, you let your body relax, your arms wrapping around him as his cock remained snugly sheathed inside you. He pulled the covers over the two of you, cocooning you both in warmth.

The storm outside howled, but for the first time in hours, you felt nothing but comfort. You didn’t know how long this moment would last, but for now, you hoped the storm wouldn’t let up anytime soon…

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[secretly-a-trekkie]

Sorry I haven’t been super active lately, but heres a low effort Kix to celebrate me starting EMT school :|

[tuatara-time]

teehee I love inflicting psychic damage on clone enjoyers >:)

I’ll have this as a print at a local con in a couple months time! Can’t wait to see people’s reactions hehe

the aurebesh reads “execute order 66”

[carbon-corrie]

Art block has been hitting me hard for a few months and all I’ve been able to draw are OCs, but I haven’t been able to finish them. So, I thought I’d post all the unfinished drawings at once! I won’t say I’ll never finish these, but it’s unlikely, and I want them to see the light of day.

A lot of these drawings would’ve never happened without inspiration from my good friend, @craziest-in-the-guild ! 🥰

Starting off strong with Chakaar and his oldest daughter, Heli:

Then an unfinished sparring scene with Chakaar and his ori’vod, Bear, and a picture showing the less-savory side of Chakaar:

Canine and his strill, Dawoor:

Now for OCs I’ve never posted about!

Marshal Commander Butcher and General Juno Holukani of the 942nd Legion:

And finally, Alpha-42, also known as Malix, and his daughter, Winri!

I hope y’all enjoyed this little dump, and hopefully I’ll break out of this art block soon! 🥰

[carbon-corrie]

Part 5 of the Known Marshal Commanders Series: Neyo

Bacara | Bly | Cody | Fox | Neyo

[darthkote]

not to sound like a slut but the clone i imagine cuddling with changes on a nightly basis depending on the specific needs that Must Be Met

[tanobatcher]

the deep end

hunter x jedi fem reader summary: unresolved feelings and an unexpected night swim with hunter warnings: none a/n: pabu has got to be my fave fic setting after 79's

Dark blue waves lap over your feet with every step you sink into the sand below. The tide is calm, curling around your ankles as if to pull you in, closer to the deep end. Pabu sleeps soundlessly, but you sense the restless nightmares that flicker through each home. This island is a refuge for people who have lost their way or had it stolen from them. It's a sanctuary of possibilities, and one in particular never strays too far from you.

"Looking for trouble?" You call over your shoulder. Hunter slows to a still, unsurprised that you felt his presence. He wasn't trying to hide.

"Looking for you," he replies. His voice sends a chill down your spine, raspy with sleep like he's still walking through a dream. But he's only walking toward you, stopping when he's just a few feet behind your back. You look down at the ground before you turn to face him, and your eyes collide with a million secrets you wish to whisper in his ear if it means freeing yourself from this torment. This feeling that imprisons you—holds you hostage.

"Heard you sneak out," he says, "Just wanted to check on you."

The corner of your mouth quirks up in amusement. "Sneaking out is an interesting choice of words."

He squares his shoulders a bit as he folds his arms over his chest. "You haven't been sleeping."

A soft ache squeezes your chest at the concern swimming in his gaze, laced in his tone that muffles the waves crashing over your feet. You feel him reaching for you—not with the hand he keeps flexed at his side, but with his heart.

"It's too quiet here." You turn your head to the side, looking out beyond the horizon where the moon stares back. "Guess I'm more used to the noise."

Hunter studies you carefully, unsure why his jaw tightens when he lets his eyes wander across your face for too long. He swallows hard and steps up beside you until you're shoulder to shoulder, as you always are. You're a team. He doesn't know what else you could possibly be, but the question has been tugging at his mind more often these days, perhaps a result of this brief moment in time where he's been able to slow down. Think a little. Think about you a lot.

"I like quiet," he says breathlessly.

You glance at him, but you face forward again when he turns to meet your gaze. His stare lingers, and he watches you as you reply, "You like Pabu."

"Don't you?" He asks this bluntly, no trace of hope in this simple question. But he can't fool you that easily.

"The people, yes." You pause and smile at him softly, sort of laughing. "Not sure if tropical weather suits me, though."

"Too warm?"

"Too...wet."

He raises his eyebrows at you as his gaze slides toward the ocean. You feel a trembling restraint start to bubble under the shadow that crosses his face, like the way the clouds pass through the dark night sky. His fingers graze yours at your side, and they intertwine like vines, not quite holding onto each other, not quite close enough for that. It's like he's scared to touch you, but he sounds bold when he says, "So, you're not up for a swim, then."

You're startled by this. Lips parting, you ask, "A swim?"

Something wicked flashes through his eyes, and you swear you recognize the smirk that follows. You haven't seen it since he used to lead his squad into trouble during the war, because now, he's been running from such a thing. He's tired of running away from you, though.

Suddenly, he murmurs, "ah, fuck it," under his breath and pulls his shirt off in one swift motion. His bare arms flex under the moonlight, and you run a shameless stare down his body, watching him start to undo his pants, too. They hit the ground at the same time your heart lurches in your chest. Your mouth goes dry, devoid of any words—not even a string of protest. He glances up at you through a heavy-lidded gaze before he moves forward, wading deeper into the water. You step forward in surprise when he disappears under the surface, instinctually relieved as he comes back up and shakes his soaked hair out.

Hunter looks at you just in time to catch you sliding the thin straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. You're shaking slightly, but it's not from the breeze that hits your skin as soon as you strip down to your underwear. His gaze is now unrecognizable, so dark and molten it almost terrifies you. You hug your arms around your chest and follow him into the water, closing your eyes to distract yourself from the cold shock you know you'll get used to in a few minutes.

Hunter is silent as his arms come around your figure. He's barely touching you; it feels more like he's hovering, like he's forming a cage that even he cannot unlock. Your eyes flutter open to stare up at him, and he takes a ragged breath.

"I can't think when you look at me like that," he groans, his voice hoarse.

"Like what?" You whisper. You brace your hands across his chest and push yourself closer. He throws his head back just a bit, sucking his teeth as his throat strains ever so slightly. You take this as an opportunity to rest your head against his heartbeat, and he glances down again before leveling his gaze to stare out beyond the island, beyond the home he can't really call home just yet.

But the peace on Pabu isn't the only reason he feels like he belongs. As Hunter squeezes you closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, he realizes you're the one who feels like home. And he'd rather keep drowning in that feeling than ever come back up for air.

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[masterjedilenawrites]

Falling For You

This is my gift for the #cloneficgiftexchange, for the lovely @arctrooper69! I'd heard Jesse was the least requested character in this event so I think I have to pick him from your list of options for this prompt! 😁 Poor guy just needs some love...

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (4/8). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

Jesse x fem!reader | 6.1k words

Content: light angst, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, injury, pining, fluff, flirting

Prompt: "I know you said you were falling for me but I didn't expect you to actually fall."

Jesse was a huge flirt.

Everyone knew it. He knew it. For reasons you couldn't comprehend, the skilled and strong ARC trooper, with so many good qualities to his name, put an incredible amount of effort into making "huge flirt" his identifying trait. From little winks to obvious showboating, from cute nicknames to devastating pick-up lines, Jesse made his way around the galaxy with nonstop charm.

You'd been amused at first. You'd never known someone so unabashedly flirtatious as him. It was always the highlight of your day to see him saunter up to your desk with a silly eyebrow wiggle or a teasing comment about your glamorous life as an accountant for the GAR. Even seeing him flirt with others made you laugh. Their reactions to him, ranging from bashful giggles to exasperated eye rolls, broke up the monotony of your day like nothing else could. If you'd had to pick back then, you would've said Jesse was your favorite of the clone troopers.

And then one day, he'd crossed a line. Not in an inappropriate way or anything; no, somehow he always managed to be respectful in that regard, even with his more suggestive comments. It was a line that, once crossed, took your feelings into actual "crush" territory. That, you now suspected, was the start of all the misery you currently felt.

He'd called you a hottie. Not the most intimate or special of names, but it had struck a meaningful chord in you.

"Are you kidding? You're a hottie. A total babe. There'd be a line out the door of guys trying to buy you a drink. Right fellas?"

He was responding to an offhand comment you'd made about not being the type of girl to fit in at 79's. Jesse and a few of his brothers were trying to round up a group to visit the clone bar later that night. Maybe the others had agreed with his flattering response, but you hadn't listened beyond that one word.

Hottie.

Not once in your life had anyone described you that way. Hot, sexy... heck, even just attractive... those weren't words anyone associated with you. The few times your appearance was complimented, it was more along the lines of cute. Maybe pretty if you dressed up a bit. You'd spent your whole adult life up to this moment believing you were undesirable to the opposite sex. Jesse changed your mind.

And after that, he was the only man you had eyes for.

His flirting stirred something different in you. It was a mixture of both pleasant tingles and sour pain. Pleasant when his comments were directed toward you. You ate it up, not bothering to hide your blushes as it only egged him on. You wanted his attentions, as much as you could wring out. And sour when he approached others with the same moves. You didn't just want his attention; you wanted all of it. Seeing him make someone else blush and laugh reminded you of all your insecurities, all the ways you knew you were inferior. You wavered back and forth between loving Jesse and all his charms, and hating how quick he was to just give it away so freely.

The 501st had been back on Coruscant for R&R an almost two full weeks now. Plenty of time to send you spiraling. You saw Jesse almost everywhere you went. In the mess hall, in random hallways, at your own desk because apparently it got good sunlight in the afternoons and he cared about that sort of thing.... The only place you could find reprieve was your living quarters, where you found yourself crumpling into bed with emotional exhaustion each evening.

Even when you didn't see Jesse you still heard about him. All of your friends and colleagues around the base were chattering about whatever smooth compliment he'd paid them that day. There was an ongoing debate in the accounting office over who the sexiest clone was, and your ears couldn't help but turn red every time you heard someone arguing for Jesse. And it was guaranteed you'd hear some story over the caf machine about his moves on the dance floor at 79's the night before. You often scurried away before you could catch any further details, like whether he took anyone home with him. Even if it meant you never got to make your caf the way you liked it.

It was ridiculous how crazy this guy was making you. You were convinced he'd only called you a hottie because you felt sorry for you. Right? How else could he put you in the same category of all these other people who were clearly so much better looking. But sometimes, just for a few minutes in the morning, you'd look in the mirror and pretend you were attractive to him, and this lovely feeling of butterflies washed over you. It was the best feeling, to think that someone like him, Jesse, could want you.

And so you'd carry that light and fuzzy feeling around until you inevitably heard another bar story or saw him flash a smile to some random civvie, and then you'd come crashing down in insecurities all over again.

Just when you were considering maybe seeking some professional help, you found yourself crossing his path just outside the training rooms.

"Whoa!" Jesse exclaimed as you both rounded the same corner and almost collided. He quickly reached out to grasp your shoulders and keep you from falling over. His chest, you immediately noticed, as it was mere inches from your face, was bare and dripping in sweat.

"Easy there, cutie," he chuckled, the first to recover from the surprise.

Cutie. A far cry from being hot. You shuffled back and mumbled an apology, finding it difficult to meet his eyes. Equally difficult was not staring at his shimmering muscles. Your eyes flitted around, searching for something else to fixate on instead.

"What are you doing down here? I thought you said accountants didn't work out. Something about your bodies only being a transport for your heads?" He gave another chuckle and started dabbing his face with a towel. You were surprised he'd remembered that joke you'd made months ago.

"Oh, um..." You were still awkwardly looking around the hallway and it took you an embarrassing amount of time to remember why you were there. "Yeah no, I was uh, meeting with a manufacturer. Had to get some quotes to replace some of the exercise equipment."

Jesse's face lit up just as your eyes flicked to his. Your stomach twisted pleasantly.

"We're getting new equipment? Finally! Half my workout is just trying to get the kriffing treadmill to turn on."

"We'll see," you quickly tried to warn him from getting his hopes up. "It's not cheap, and with the increases in spending for munitions this quarter, there's not a whole lot of funds left to allocate for things like this. I'll have to make a pitch to shift some assets around, or possibly delay that upgrade to the... what?"

You noticed Jesse was chuckling again.

"Oh I love it when you talk budgets to me, sweetheart."

You could feel your cheeks heating up. You weren't sure how to respond, which seemed to amuse Jesse even further. He playfully swatted the towel toward your side as he started to go past you, ready to move on to wherever he'd been headed before.

"Hey, you doing anything later? You know, after you're done with all those funds and assets and whatever?"

You turned to see him walking slowly backward, waiting for your answer. Was he asking you out or merely making chitchat? It didn't seem like a casual offer, or an afterthought, though you couldn't be sure.

"Um, depends." It was your default line anytime someone asked about your availability. Vague enough and non-committal in either direction. You never got trapped into plans you didn't want to be part of, and you were never impolite about it.

"Depends?" he quirked his eyebrow and stopped walking. "Well aren't you a coy one. Didn't realize I'd need to impress you so much."

You weren't sure how to respond to that either. You were all sorts of tongue tied and you were still doing a poor job of not checking out his chest.

"Okay, okay, hear me out," he went on, not seeming too put out by your response. "I know you're not into the bar scene, but there's gonna be this local band at 79's tonight... they do more acoustics and vocals, so, you know, it'll be pretty low key. And a lot of the guys are set on getting tattoos tonight which means it won't be as crowded. I don't know, figured you might be more into that?"

"And... this would be... with you?"

For the first time, you started to see cracks in Jesse's confidence. Just barely. Hairline fractures. Subtle enough to fool anyone who wasn't paying attention, but as evident to you as if they were your own. Jesse cleared his throat and slung the towel over his shoulder, trying to play it off.

"I mean, yeah. If you wanted to. I just have tonight, we finally got our next deployment and it'll be a while so... well, you know, just wanted to spend my last night here with some good company."

This time you did know how to respond, but for some reason your voice wouldn't cooperate. You wanted to holler Yes! and jump for joy, wrap your arms around his neck and give him a smooch. ARC trooper Jesse, the debonair soldier, the only man you had eyes for, was asking for your company.

You heard your name followed by a Hellooo? and suddenly there was a hand waving in front of your face.

"I'm trying to ask you out, girl. You gotta give me something here!" Jesse laughed, and the warmth in his smile brought you back to reality.

"Yes," you breathed, and then swallowed and said more clearly, "yes, of course! I... I would love to."

"Really?"

You nodded enthusiastically. Jesse made a little fist pump.

"Yes! You had me worried for a second there." He started walking backwards again. "But okay, cool. Um, I gotta clean up, and then we got a few mission briefings. Let's meet there at, say... 5? Happy hour, so first round can be on me."

He winked and you giggled, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

"5 o'clock," you confirmed.

"Can't wait, beautiful!" he called over his shoulder as he finally turned around skipped through the fresher door at the end of the hall.

* * *

The rest of your day went by at an agonizing pace, but you finally got off work and could have a little moment of celebration in your quarters, complete with squealing into your pillow and dancing all around. You didn't have too much time to get ready, which ended up being a blessing as you would have surely spent hours cycling through various outfit combinations. You were able to pick the first outfit that came to your mind - cute, comfortable, and very you - without doubting or changing your mind. You spent the rest of your time taming your hair and calming your nerves.

Your anxieties only crept in occasionally, asking such annoying questions as whether you were the only one he'd asked out like this during his time off, or whether he would've found a way to ask you even had you not run into him in the halls.

But there had been joy in his smiles, relief in those tense and deliciously muscular shoulders when you'd agreed. He'd seemed so genuine. How could you worry about whether you were good enough when he'd very clearly asked you out?

So you shoved those pesky thoughts to the side, in a way you hadn't known how to do earlier when there were so many unknowns and uncertainties about the situation. Jesse liked you, he wanted to spend time with you before leaving. That was that.

You got to 79's only a few minutes early and placed yourself comfortably at the bar to wait. He'd been right, it was not crowded or boisterous at all. There were still plenty of people, clones and civvies alike, but enough booths were still open that you wouldn't have trouble finding somewhere to really relax once Jesse showed up.

You gave him about twenty minutes without worry. His meetings could've run long, or the Coruscanti traffic could've held him up. No big deal. You asked for a water from the bartender so you didn't seem rude, and patiently sipped through it while you scrolled on your datapad to pass the time.

As 5:30 drew nearer, though, you began to get concerned. Was he okay? You cursed yourself for not asking for his number, just in case. You glanced around the bar, wishing someone from his troop was here so you could ask. You decided to chance talking to an older, bearded clone who sat just a few seats from you.

"Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to know anyone from the 501st, would you?"

The clone nodded back with a little laugh. "I know some. The ARC troopers, anyway. They're regulars. Doesn't look like they're showing up tonight though. Were you wanting to meet them?"

"Well, I had a date with one. Jesse. I guess he's running a little late. Wasn't sure how to get ahold of him, make sure he's okay."

The clone's eyes narrowed.

"Jesse? Huh, didn't picture him for the dating type. Well, anyway, maybe you're right, just running late. Here, let me order you a drink while you wait."

Now you felt awkward. Silly. Just a silly little girl, sipping a silly little cocktail, waiting for a silly little date she was probably too excited for to begin with. That was always the danger, wasn't it? Get your hopes up too high and it hurts that much more when they come back down.

5:30 turned into 6. Couples passed by, filling up seats around the band that had finally started playing. Clones came up to the bar to order, passing you a pitying look before taking their drinks back to their pretty dates.

6:05. What if he had meant 6? What if you had mis-remembered the time? No, you were pretty sure he'd mentioned happy hour, and there were signs all over the bar about that hour being from 5 to 6.

6:10. Whatever you would've found to do on your datapad had you stayed home for the evening didn't seem to exist now that you were here. You fiddled with a napkin, folding and unfolding until it was falling apart.

6:15. You started thinking about what time you should call it quits and head home. Was it weird you hadn't left by now? Should you have tried harder to get ahold of him sooner?

6:17.

"Hey beautiful! Oh good, you got a drink." Jesse was suddenly by your side, draping an arm around your back and placing a quick peck to the side of your head. He then leaned forward to catch the bartender's attention, not seeing your look of incredulity. Behind him was another trooper, one of the 501st medics, who gave you a polite nod but otherwise looked too grumpy to be there.

"Sorry I'm late, Kix here was moping in the med bay and I had to literally drag his ass off the floor to get him over here."

Jesse was all smiles as he leaned an elbow on the bar and finally took a look at you. He whistled.

"Damn, you look great!"

You were momentarily speechless. You didn't know what to make of this. The casual apology for his tardiness, the fact he'd brought someone else along. But then a couple beers were placed on the counter and he swept them up, nodding his head toward the wall of booths in the back.

"Come on, let's find some seats!"

You hesitated only for a moment before getting up to follow. He'd finally shown up. The evening wouldn't be a total waste. You could talk to him about it later, and definitely make sure to swap numbers so this wouldn't happen again.

Jesse and Kix slid into opposite sides of an empty booth in the far corner, positioned slightly behind where the band was set up so there wasn't a great view. Jesse patted the seat next to him for you to join and gave you another dazzling smile as you slid in.

"You really do look great," he said in a low voice by your ear, making you blush and conjuring up memories of that time he'd called you a hottie. He had his arm along the back of the booth, just behind your head, and you could feel the warmth radiating off him from such a close position.

"Thanks, so do you," you whispered back. He laughed and shook his head, but you meant it. He had a blue sort of vest over his blacks that made him look fit and clean. He also smelled nice and it took all your willpower not to lean in to take a big whiff.

"Hey, lighten up, grouchy pants," Jesse called over to Kix, who was glaring into his beer like it had personally offended him. Jesse raised his own beer in a salute. "This is way better than crying on the floor."

"I wasn't crying on the floor," Kix huffed. "And how is this better? I can't even see the band from here."

"Music's meant to be listened to anyway," Jesse shrugged him off.

"What's his deal?" you asked.

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Some girl he liked made fun of his tattoo idea and now he won't get one."

"I shaved my head for it and everything," Kix lamented.

You held back a snicker. You wished you could ask Jesse why his brother's woes meant he needed to join your date. But not only did you not want to seem rude, but the band switched to a new song that had a faster tempo and for some reason the volume also increased as a result. You were having a hard time hearing your own thoughts; conversation with Jesse would be even more tricky.

The next hour passed in an awkward blur. Jesse flagged down a waitress to refill your cocktail, calling her all the same names he'd been calling you today. Sweetheart, cutie... You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Two more rounds came after that, and you gladly downed each drink just to give yourself something to do. You tried asking him a few questions to get to know him better, but he'd end up turning his answer into some kind of a joke. Most of them were pretty funny, but after a while you got frustrated that he wasn't actually sharing anything with you. He did try to maintain a few conversations, but it was hard to keep things flowing when the band alternated between soft, twinkly instrumentals, and noisy, upbeat rock vocals. And then there was Kix, who had taken up sketching new tattoo ideas on napkins and would ask every five minutes to give your opinions on them.

And then the rest of the 501st piled in, proudly showing off their new ink around the club. Jesse seemed delighted to see them and waived them over, much to your disappointment. He pulled at your arm to get you to slide further into the booth with him, making room for a few clones to slip in, clunky armor and all.

"What you do think?" Hardcase stood at the head of the booth, unabashedly holding up his shirt to reveal a continuation of the blue lines on his head down across his torso.

A chorus of opinions and stories erupted. Fives was trying to reenact Hardcase's squeals as he'd gotten tattooed. Rex was trying to get the clone to pull his shirt back down. Several were ragging on Kix for not joining. And Jesse was laughing hysterically through it all.

You loved to see him so happy, you really did. And maybe it was just the four drinks that were now messing with your head, but you couldn't shake how out of place you felt, sitting in a booth surrounded by clone troopers on what was supposed to be a date between you and Jesse. You had nothing to contribute, no reason for them to pay you any attention. You sat in the middle of a group of people you barely knew, feeling more alone than you had when you'd been waiting at the bar.

Just as you were wondering how you could possibly get out of the booth without making a scene, Kix finally caved in to Fives's nagging about getting his original tattoo idea after all, and the whole lot collectively shimmied out of the booth. You felt Jesse's hand on your elbow, guiding you out. You turned to him once you were both standing.

"Are we really going to a tattoo parlor now?" you asked, hoping he'd see how badly you didn't want to be part of this plan.

"It'll be quick. I think there's an ice cream place near too, we can go there when we're done."

He flashed a reassuring grin and it almost gave you a little bit of hope back. You couldn't remember if you'd ever told him you loved ice cream or if it was a lucky guess. But when you tried to ask if you could just hang out at the ice cream place while the others went for more tattoos, Jesse had already turned to jump on Kix and give him a hard time about crying in the med bay again.

Your ears were ringing from a combination of alcohol, loud music, and annoyance. You couldn't take it anymore. You stepped aside from the group and just gazed at the man who had supposedly wanted your company, and now seemed more content to be in the company of others.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Rex, looking over you with concern. "Are you alright? You don't look so good. Do you want us to take you home to rest?"

You shook your head, all you could manage in response at first. Tears had suddenly sprung into your eyes, you weren't sure why. Maybe because it was the first time someone had offered to do something you wanted tonight.

"Are you sure? I can get you some water or...."

"No, thank you," you finally found your words. "I can get myself home. I'll be fine."

"We can take you..."

"No, really, I'm fine. Just, tell Jesse I'll see him tomorrow before he leaves, okay?"

You hurried off before he could offer any further help, and before you would be caught with tears down your cheeks. You didn't want to make a scene, you didn't want to ruin Jesse's fun. But you didn't get far before the clone was calling your name, grasping the back of your arm and turning you to face him.

"Hey, what's the matter, sweetheart?"

If he hadn't used a nickname, you might have tried to play it off. But you remembered distinctly, even in the midst of your intoxication, the last person he'd called a sweetheart was the waitress in the busty crop top. Something in you snapped.

"Am I a joke to you?"

And there they were, those small cracks in his confidence, reemerging and widening before your eyes. Realization pulled the edges apart more and more as you spoke.

"You made me wait for over an hour. Do you know how ridiculous I felt, sitting at that bar all by myself, wondering what time meant you didn't actually care? And then you did finally come, and not only did I barely get an apology, and definitely no acknowledgement of how much my time you wasted without good reason, but I also didn't even get a proper date. I had to sit through all your flirting, only it wasn't directed at me, but to another woman who's paid to pretend your jokes are funny. You didn't answer any of my questions about yourself. You didn't even ask if I wanted a different drink, you just kept ordering the same one. The music also sucks, by the way. And now we're headed off to hang out with your brothers, people you see every day? While I'm the one you're going to leave tomorrow when you deploy?"

You weren't shouting, and somehow you'd even managed to hold in most of your tears, but your exasperated rant did have the intended affect of making Jesse feel like shit. You could see it written all over him. Remorseful eyes, pleading hands on yours, mouth opening and closing in a desperate attempt to find the words to make things right.

"And you know what really sucks?" you continued, feeling your speech start to slur a bit more in your emotional exhaustion. "I do still like you, Jesse. In fact, I think I've fallen for you. You're normally so good, so attentive and... and... simply wonderful. I just don't understand why you couldn't be that way tonight. For me."

Something dawned on you, something you'd suspected before, all those times you caught him flirting around the base with everyone he came across. Those insecurities found their way back to the surface and claimed their victory.

"It's because it's me, isn't it?" you choked. "You don't really care for me, do you?"

The tears were definitely going to fall now. You could hear him saying your name, you could feel him gripping your hands more firmly, but just then the rest of the 501st went marching by, oblivious to the moment you two were caught in, hollering after Jesse to get his ass out the door before they kicked it. It was distraction enough for you to slip out of his grasp and make a beeline for the refreshers.

The ladies room was on the second floor, a narrow flight of stairs serving as the only barrier between you and your chosen hideout. Unfortunately, it created the perfect storm. You were halfway up, alcohol complicating your ability to balance, tears clouding your vision, and apparently at some point earlier in the evening, someone had left a nice puddle of their insides on one of the steps.

You heard your name being called from behind, startling you, just as your foot made contact with the vomit. You turned, slipped, and next think you knew, you were tumbling painfully down the steps. Later, you'd be grateful that you were unconscious by the time you reached the bottom, crumpled on the floor beneath the only man you had eyes for.

* * *

You regained consciousness with a splitting headache and a heavy heart. You remembered everything almost immediately.

It took a few moments for your vision to swim back into focus, revealing a curtained-off corner of the med bay where you were laid on a gurney with a thin blanket draped over your frame. You could tell you weren't wearing the same clothes from before based on the odd, stiff texture you felt against your skin. Possibly a medical gown? One of your arms was also hooked up to an IV, the monitor glowing faintly off to the side.

In front of you, in what little space was left between the bed and wall, was Jesse, pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. He was clearly in distress, wringing the edge of his shirt and looking for all the world like he was waiting for news on whether you'd live or die.

As conflicted as you still felt about your first date with him, you figured you'd better put him out of his misery.

"It's not that bad, is it?" you croaked out.

The clone wasted no time in rushing to your side, trading his shirt for your free hand, grasping it so tightly you winced. His palms were sweaty.

"No, no Kix said you were going to be fine," Jesse reassured. "Just a cut on your head, there, above your eye." 

You touched at the indicated spot, feeling a short row of stitches along your eyebrow.

"And a few bruises on your back," he added. Made sense why you were now in a medical gown, they had to check for further damage. "And the IV is for your hangover. 

You groaned. "Well if this isn't the most embarrassing thing I've done..."

Jesse made a sort of gasping laugh, like he was surprised to remember there was humor in the galaxy. "Yeah. I know you said you were falling for me but I didn't expect you to actually fall."

You glared over at him, but only for a moment. He was a deer in headlights, waiting to see if his attempt to lighten the mood had gone too far. You started laughing, a silent laugh that still shook your chest enough to hurt. You went back to groaning.

"You know I'm still upset with you."

"I know, I know," Jesse hurried to affirm. He scooted a chair over to be closer and looked up at you with those soft, brown, desperate eyes you'd last seen in the bar. He truly looked miserable. "You have every right to be. The date was a disaster and it was all my fault. I was an idiot, I never meant to make you feel that way."

You nodded but didn't have anything else to say that you hadn't already.

"And for the record, you're not a joke. You're far from it. You're... you're..." He was stuttering, licking his lips as if parched. You'd never seen him - Jesse, the huge flirt - act so unsure of himself, especially when trying to pay a compliment.

He reached for your hand again but held it more gently this time, more reverently. He studied it, as if the words he needed were written on your skin. "It is you, but not in that way you thought. It's always been you. For me. But I guess I did a piss poor job of making sure you knew that tonight."

He flicked his eyes back up to yours, questioning, cautious.

"So..." you tried to wrap your head around what he was confessing. "All those things you've said, about how I looked, and how smart I am... all that. You meant it?"

"Of course I did." Jesse gave you a small but sincere smile.

"But... you've said all those things to other people, too. Did you mean it to them?"

His smiled fainted as he thought about your question and what his flatteries looked like from your perspective. He bowed his head for a moment before looking back up at you. "I just want people to feel good about themselves. One of my first experiences off of Kamino, I came across this woman who'd lost her husband, and that wasn't something we were prepared for. All the ways the war actually hurt people. But then I started talking about her hair and how it looked like silk, and she just lit up. And I don't know, I guess I got addicted, making other people feel good like that. You never know what someone else may be going through. They can be smiling and still need that little pick-me-up, you know?"

Your gaze never wavered from him as he spoke. This was more than you ever knew about the man, and you couldn't deny how it made your chest feel simultaneously tense and mushy.

"And yeah, maybe I lay it on a little thicker sometimes when I'm actually interested for myself, you know, not just making someone's day better. And you don't know who may fire back until you shoot your shot. But I'd always hoped it'd be you. That's why I never gave up, even when everyone told me to. They said you weren't interested. I thought you were just shy."

"I am," you whispered, suddenly self conscious. It was clear now that the soldier had frequented the accounting office more than he had any other reason to, that it was not the only office to get good sun in the afternoons if that was truly his excuse.

"I wish you'd told me," you added. "This is the sort of thing I was trying to learn about you earlier."

Jesse's rueful eyes returned. "Ah, yes, on the worst date in history, brought to you by this dummy."

"It wasn't the worst. Bad, yes, but sadly I have been on worse."

Jesse didn't seem comforted by that. He shook his head. "Would it surprise you to know I, uh... I've never been on a date?"

You blinked at him in surprise.

"Not that that's any excuse," he quickly added.

"Right, but, you didn't know what to do." You felt like you were starting to understand him more. "You did what you knew. What you were comfortable with."

"I kept making jokes because I thought if you weren't laughing then you weren't having a good time. I kept ordering the same drink because I didn't know you might want something else, I thought that was what you wanted and I wanted to..."

"You wanted to make me happy."

"And you wanted to feel special."

You gazed at each other for a long moment, exchanging looks of regret and realization. It was an unfortunate evening, but probably not avoidable. There had been enough misunderstanding from both of you that would've always led you to the same moment. You couldn't have known how the other felt, what they wanted, where they were coming from, until you'd gotten to know each other. And you couldn't have gotten to know each other without the misalignments being revealed.

He was the first to speak again, still feeling miserable about the whole thing. "I was late. I could've at least got that right. I lose track of time, sometimes. I don't know why."

He hung his head but you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to show him you were okay, and he relaxed in your grip in return, giving you a relieved, though still sheepish, smile.

"I wish you weren't leaving tomorrow," you said quietly. "I feel like we need a do-over on our date now."

Jesse perked up. "What do you mean? This first one's not over yet! There's still time to redeem it."

You looked about the room. "Doesn't seem very romantic. No food. No music. I'm in a tacky gown."

"Nonsense, you look hot."

Jesse held up a finger and ducked behind the curtain. He was gone for only a minute, but your cheeks were still flushed by the time he got back.

"What, you like that one? Hot?" he grinned.

You looked shyly away but still gave a nod.

"Noted."

He had a handful of what looked to be protein bars and a datapad that he deposited onto the bed beside you.

"Food, aaand..." he tapped a few times on the pad until some sort of lo-fi jazz started playing, "... music."

You giggled. "You stole these from Kix, didn't you?"

"His office is in the next room," Jesse laughed with you. "I know it's not glamorous and you deserve a much better do-over from me, but..."

"It's perfect," you whispered, grabbing his hand again. "There is one thing, though."

"Yeah?" he asked eagerly.

"Well, this cut on my head is kind of hurting. Maybe you could... kiss it better?"

You couldn't believe the words that were coming out of your mouth, but you knew with Jesse they'd be received well. And boy did his face light up.

He wasted no time in leaning over you, carefully placing a hand by your side to brace himself, and bringing the other up to cradle the opposite side of your face. His breath ghosted over the stitched up cut, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. Then he finally planted his lips softly over it, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling back.

"What other names do you like?" he asked, his voice low but tinged with a sort of playfulness that kept the mood light in the midst of these more intimate gestures. "We'll take them off the table for anyone else. They'll only belong to you."

He'd sat himself down next to you and was now lifting up the hand with the IV. You watched, enamored as he brought it toward his lips.

"I like sweetheart," you breathed.

He kissed just above where the IV was taped, a smile behind his action. "Sweetheart. What else?"

"Beautiful."

"I meant, what else is injured so I can kiss it?" he teased. You used your hand to swat at him, even though it hurt a little, and he laughed.

"There were bruises on your back right?" he pretended to lift your gown and you swatted again, this time with your good hand.

"That sort of behavior is for the second date, sir," you laughed. "Or maybe the third or fourth. We'll see."

Jesse brought a pair of protein bars around and made a mock salute with you. "To future dates, then, beautiful."

~ ~ ~

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[winniethewife]

*sighs dreamily*

[greyeisacreativecolor]

Captain Am is like most clones, in that she is an imperfect copy of Jango Fett. Some mutation in her cloning pod shifted her brain chemistry into the feminine spectrum. While the Kaminoans offered no affirming care, her brothers were accepting and supportive, while chiding her as brothers at arms do. When she was assigned to the 778th Legion, a medical core under the command of Altisian Jedi Master Mar'uk, she managed to acquisition hormone replacement therapy under the guise of prescribing them to one of the volunteer surgeons on board their ship. Captain Am would become well known for providing unique care to patients struggling with none physical ailments, even when it broke GAR protocol.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hello there! I have a promt for you :)

What about TBB reacting to Omega getting her first period and/or the reader having a fear of needles but she needs a vaccination to travel to a planet?

Hello! I actually wrote a piece on Omega getting her first period and how her Batch brothers reacted. Read it here! 

I haven't written anything close to the second prompt though, so I can do that one!

TBB & Reader | 1.7k words

Content: fear of needles/trypanophobia and related symptoms, brief description of a deadly disease, Star Wars cursing, platonic but you could read more into the Hunter or Wrecker bits if you wanted (Tech or Crosshair too, tbh, they're not getting any more comforting than that lol)

To say you were panicking was an understatement. You were utterly and completely freaking out. And worse, you were trying desperately not to let your companions see it. You'd fought valiantly beside them for the better part of a year, never once shying away from the things that would make others quake in their boots. But now you were moments away from having to face your biggest fear, and if they saw what it was, they'd never stop teasing you for it.

So you stayed out of the way as they made their preparations for landing, keeping your trembling hands behind your back and your gaze fixed as steadily as possible on an invisible point on the wall ahead. Thankfully they didn't seem to notice or care that you weren't helping out. But you couldn't escape their attention forever.

"Alright, you're next!" Tech called your name as the last of his brothers left their perch in front of him. You'd been keeping Tech and his needles in your periphery, not wanting to fully look at any of them, but also wanting to keep an eye out in case one of them magically took flight and caught you by surprise.

"No thanks. I'll be fine," you tried to dismiss the plan as nonchalantly as possible. But even Hunter stopped his packing to cock an eyebrow at you.

"You'll be fine?" he asked with a disbelieving laugh, like you'd just said you had a third arm. "It's a disease, sweetheart. You can't shoot it out of the air. Vaccine's the only way to protect yourself."

"It's an airborne virus, to be specific," Tech clarified. "Deadly to any species other than the natives of this planet. But thankfully they've donated enough blood to the GAR to help develop an effective vaccination. It's the only way we can go down to help them against the droids that ravage their world."

You made the mistake of looking over at Tech just as he held up a syringe and flicked its side. Holy kriffing bantha shit, was that needle long and thick. It was like a kriffing pipe. It glinted in the lights of the ship, like it was winking at you. Mocking you. Your heart immediately started picking up its pace.

"I'll take my chances," you tried one last futile attempt at escape. Somehow you kept your voice steady, forcing a normal tone around the frog that had lodged itself your constricting throat. But then Crosshair spared a glance in your direction and the ruse unraveled.

"You're scared," Crosshair stated plainly. He probably saw the bead of sweat that had just formed at your hairline. Or maybe he could see the veins in your neck pulsing quicker than they should've.

"You'll take large boils, severe dehydration, and bloody vomit over a shot?" Echo asked. Wrecker paused along with him and now everyone's attention was focused on your first ever display of fear. Fantastic.

"Not to mention death," Wrecker pointed out. "That's the worst symptom."

"I don't know if it could be called a symptom so much as a consequence," Tech mused.

"A consequence no one in the ship will be facing, thank you," Hunter asserted, finally walking over to you. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, but his next words were a bit softer. "It doesn't hurt that much. You'll be okay."

You supposed you were grateful they were taking a more questioning and supportive approach than one of teasing, but it still didn't rectify the problem of you needing to go through with this shot anyway.

"I'm not worried about the pain," you muttered. "It's the..."

Your eyes flicked over to where Tech was still holding that damned needle high and proud. A chill overcame you and you felt yourself blanching.

"Okay, okay," Hunter quickly moved his hand to grasp your arm in an effort to keep you upright. "How about you sit down first. We'll walk you through this one step at a time."

Hunter waved Wrecker over and the burly clone immediately came over and picked you up. You weren't cured from your phobia but you did find his embrace comforting. You continued to cling to him as he sat you down on the counter by Tech. He chuckled but didn't protest. He stood next to you and kept his arm securely around you.

"Okay," Hunter said soothingly. "Now let's find a distraction for you. Keep your thoughts on something else."

"Maybe Tech could tell us all about the difference between bacteria and viruses," Echo said sarcastically.

You missed the glare Tech gave in response, unable to even think about what he looked like for fear of picturing a needle in his hands as well.

"Or," Hunter butt in, sensing your need for a different kind of distraction. "Let's practice your knife skills. Here."

He pulled out one of his trusty vibro-knives and placed it in your hand. The hilt was cold against your skin, heavy in your grip. You tried to focus on those sensations instead, and it almost worked in keeping your attention, until a different kind of cold feeling hit your other arm and you freaked out all over again.

"It's only a numbing swab," Tech said with a tinge of annoyance.

"No. No, no, no." You were shaking your hand frantically, scooting yourself backwards on the counter to get as far away as possible. Wrecker's arm tightened around you, preventing you from moving. "Nope. I can't do this."

"Sure you can," Wrecker tried to reassure you, but to no avail. You trembled against his hold.

"No. No, I'll just sit this one out. Stay on the ship. You boys go without me."

Tech huffed again, having to re-explain information he'd already shared when you'd first gotten this mission. "That won't work. We'll still be exposed to the virus and bring it back to the ship with us. We'll have to undergo a whole decontamination process when we're back on Kamino, the ship, too. And then it's quarantine for a minimum of 72 hours...."

You weren't listening. Your face felt wet. Were you crying or just sweating? Hunter was trying to get you to focus back on the blade in your hand, but your fingers were shaking so bad you couldn't even hold it.

"Maybe we should just knock her out," Crosshair said. He'd kept himself out of the situation but now couldn't help himself. Your agitation was too amusing.

"We're not knocking her out," Hunter rolled his eyes before cooing your name. You begrudgingly looked over at him. "It's okay. Please just twirl the knife and don't think about anything else. It'll be over before you know it."

A sudden clatter came from Tech dropping the syringe and you could almost feel Hunter's blood start to boil in annoyance. Just when he kept getting you to a good place....

"Tech," he growled.

You cowered into Wrecker's arms again. This could not be happening.

"What?" Tech was saying. "It slipped."

"I don't want to do this," you moaned, maybe a tad dramatically. You shut your eyes tightly, and prayed that when you opened them again, you'd find this was just some horrible dream.

"Oh for kriff's sake," came Crosshair's voice. "Hold her down."

Wrecker's other hand seized your arm in such a way that you couldn't move it. But even so, it happened so quickly you couldn't process fast enough to keep up. He gripped your arm and then there was a tight pinch as something broke through your skin. By the time your brain caught up to what was happening, Crosshair was already pulling the needle back out, swift and smooth. Your eyes flew open and your mouth formed a silent scream, but there was nothing to panic about anymore. The syringe was back out of sight, and in its place was but a mere drop of blood ballooning on the surface of your skin. Echo quickly stepped in to fix a bandage over it.

And that was that.

"See? Not so bad," Wrecker said with a chuckle. He finally released his hold on you, making you whine a little at the loss of such a solid support. You still felt woozy, though you had to admit the panic was dissipating fast.

Hunter, however, was not getting over his feelings as easily. He scowled at both Tech and Crosshair, though the latter was already leaving the scene to return to packing his weapons kit.

"That was a lot of fuss over nothing," Tech said plainly, refusing to meet Hunter's gaze. "Now I just need my shot, and then we can land and get on with the mission."

"You know, Tech," you said, glad you were able to find your voice again and it not sound too embarrassingly faint. "It might help me to get over this fear if I gave you your shot."

"Ha ha, very funny," the goggled clone shook his head, but then looked up at you nervously to gauge if you were serious. The smirk in your lips combined with the fact your face still hadn't recovered its color was indication enough you were not serious at all, only trying to give him as much grief as he'd given you.

"I think Cross has proved he has the steadiest hand," Echo played along with a smirk of his own.

Tech seemed to consider the idea before scooping up all the supplies onto his tray and shuffling away. "I think I can manage to inject myself, thank you. ETA is five minutes. Chop chop."

You let out a tired laugh as Tech disappeared into the cockpit. The others slowly went into their landing positions as well. Except Hunter, who folded his arms and gave you a strange look.

"So. Needles, huh? I was wondering what your weakness would be."

The faintest of smiles played on his features, helping you settle further into your own relief.

"Thank you," you said in response.

"For what?"

"For not making fun of me... And helping me get through it. Or, at least trying."

Hunter uncrossed his arms and stepped forward so he was close enough to put his hand on your shoulder once more.

"We've got your back. Always."

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[masterjedilenawrites]

Falling For You

This is my gift for the #cloneficgiftexchange, for the lovely @arctrooper69! I'd heard Jesse was the least requested character in this event so I think I have to pick him from your list of options for this prompt! 😁 Poor guy just needs some love...

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (4/8). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

Jesse x fem!reader | 6.1k words

Content: light angst, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, injury, pining, fluff, flirting

Prompt: "I know you said you were falling for me but I didn't expect you to actually fall."

Jesse was a huge flirt.

Everyone knew it. He knew it. For reasons you couldn't comprehend, the skilled and strong ARC trooper, with so many good qualities to his name, put an incredible amount of effort into making "huge flirt" his identifying trait. From little winks to obvious showboating, from cute nicknames to devastating pick-up lines, Jesse made his way around the galaxy with nonstop charm.

You'd been amused at first. You'd never known someone so unabashedly flirtatious as him. It was always the highlight of your day to see him saunter up to your desk with a silly eyebrow wiggle or a teasing comment about your glamorous life as an accountant for the GAR. Even seeing him flirt with others made you laugh. Their reactions to him, ranging from bashful giggles to exasperated eye rolls, broke up the monotony of your day like nothing else could. If you'd had to pick back then, you would've said Jesse was your favorite of the clone troopers.

And then one day, he'd crossed a line. Not in an inappropriate way or anything; no, somehow he always managed to be respectful in that regard, even with his more suggestive comments. It was a line that, once crossed, took your feelings into actual "crush" territory. That, you now suspected, was the start of all the misery you currently felt.

He'd called you a hottie. Not the most intimate or special of names, but it had struck a meaningful chord in you.

"Are you kidding? You're a hottie. A total babe. There'd be a line out the door of guys trying to buy you a drink. Right fellas?"

He was responding to an offhand comment you'd made about not being the type of girl to fit in at 79's. Jesse and a few of his brothers were trying to round up a group to visit the clone bar later that night. Maybe the others had agreed with his flattering response, but you hadn't listened beyond that one word.

Hottie.

Not once in your life had anyone described you that way. Hot, sexy... heck, even just attractive... those weren't words anyone associated with you. The few times your appearance was complimented, it was more along the lines of cute. Maybe pretty if you dressed up a bit. You'd spent your whole adult life up to this moment believing you were undesirable to the opposite sex. Jesse changed your mind.

And after that, he was the only man you had eyes for.

His flirting stirred something different in you. It was a mixture of both pleasant tingles and sour pain. Pleasant when his comments were directed toward you. You ate it up, not bothering to hide your blushes as it only egged him on. You wanted his attentions, as much as you could wring out. And sour when he approached others with the same moves. You didn't just want his attention; you wanted all of it. Seeing him make someone else blush and laugh reminded you of all your insecurities, all the ways you knew you were inferior. You wavered back and forth between loving Jesse and all his charms, and hating how quick he was to just give it away so freely.

The 501st had been back on Coruscant for R&R an almost two full weeks now. Plenty of time to send you spiraling. You saw Jesse almost everywhere you went. In the mess hall, in random hallways, at your own desk because apparently it got good sunlight in the afternoons and he cared about that sort of thing.... The only place you could find reprieve was your living quarters, where you found yourself crumpling into bed with emotional exhaustion each evening.

Even when you didn't see Jesse you still heard about him. All of your friends and colleagues around the base were chattering about whatever smooth compliment he'd paid them that day. There was an ongoing debate in the accounting office over who the sexiest clone was, and your ears couldn't help but turn red every time you heard someone arguing for Jesse. And it was guaranteed you'd hear some story over the caf machine about his moves on the dance floor at 79's the night before. You often scurried away before you could catch any further details, like whether he took anyone home with him. Even if it meant you never got to make your caf the way you liked it.

It was ridiculous how crazy this guy was making you. You were convinced he'd only called you a hottie because you felt sorry for you. Right? How else could he put you in the same category of all these other people who were clearly so much better looking. But sometimes, just for a few minutes in the morning, you'd look in the mirror and pretend you were attractive to him, and this lovely feeling of butterflies washed over you. It was the best feeling, to think that someone like him, Jesse, could want you.

And so you'd carry that light and fuzzy feeling around until you inevitably heard another bar story or saw him flash a smile to some random civvie, and then you'd come crashing down in insecurities all over again.

Just when you were considering maybe seeking some professional help, you found yourself crossing his path just outside the training rooms.

"Whoa!" Jesse exclaimed as you both rounded the same corner and almost collided. He quickly reached out to grasp your shoulders and keep you from falling over. His chest, you immediately noticed, as it was mere inches from your face, was bare and dripping in sweat.

"Easy there, cutie," he chuckled, the first to recover from the surprise.

Cutie. A far cry from being hot. You shuffled back and mumbled an apology, finding it difficult to meet his eyes. Equally difficult was not staring at his shimmering muscles. Your eyes flitted around, searching for something else to fixate on instead.

"What are you doing down here? I thought you said accountants didn't work out. Something about your bodies only being a transport for your heads?" He gave another chuckle and started dabbing his face with a towel. You were surprised he'd remembered that joke you'd made months ago.

"Oh, um..." You were still awkwardly looking around the hallway and it took you an embarrassing amount of time to remember why you were there. "Yeah no, I was uh, meeting with a manufacturer. Had to get some quotes to replace some of the exercise equipment."

Jesse's face lit up just as your eyes flicked to his. Your stomach twisted pleasantly.

"We're getting new equipment? Finally! Half my workout is just trying to get the kriffing treadmill to turn on."

"We'll see," you quickly tried to warn him from getting his hopes up. "It's not cheap, and with the increases in spending for munitions this quarter, there's not a whole lot of funds left to allocate for things like this. I'll have to make a pitch to shift some assets around, or possibly delay that upgrade to the... what?"

You noticed Jesse was chuckling again.

"Oh I love it when you talk budgets to me, sweetheart."

You could feel your cheeks heating up. You weren't sure how to respond, which seemed to amuse Jesse even further. He playfully swatted the towel toward your side as he started to go past you, ready to move on to wherever he'd been headed before.

"Hey, you doing anything later? You know, after you're done with all those funds and assets and whatever?"

You turned to see him walking slowly backward, waiting for your answer. Was he asking you out or merely making chitchat? It didn't seem like a casual offer, or an afterthought, though you couldn't be sure.

"Um, depends." It was your default line anytime someone asked about your availability. Vague enough and non-committal in either direction. You never got trapped into plans you didn't want to be part of, and you were never impolite about it.

"Depends?" he quirked his eyebrow and stopped walking. "Well aren't you a coy one. Didn't realize I'd need to impress you so much."

You weren't sure how to respond to that either. You were all sorts of tongue tied and you were still doing a poor job of not checking out his chest.

"Okay, okay, hear me out," he went on, not seeming too put out by your response. "I know you're not into the bar scene, but there's gonna be this local band at 79's tonight... they do more acoustics and vocals, so, you know, it'll be pretty low key. And a lot of the guys are set on getting tattoos tonight which means it won't be as crowded. I don't know, figured you might be more into that?"

"And... this would be... with you?"

For the first time, you started to see cracks in Jesse's confidence. Just barely. Hairline fractures. Subtle enough to fool anyone who wasn't paying attention, but as evident to you as if they were your own. Jesse cleared his throat and slung the towel over his shoulder, trying to play it off.

"I mean, yeah. If you wanted to. I just have tonight, we finally got our next deployment and it'll be a while so... well, you know, just wanted to spend my last night here with some good company."

This time you did know how to respond, but for some reason your voice wouldn't cooperate. You wanted to holler Yes! and jump for joy, wrap your arms around his neck and give him a smooch. ARC trooper Jesse, the debonair soldier, the only man you had eyes for, was asking for your company.

You heard your name followed by a Hellooo? and suddenly there was a hand waving in front of your face.

"I'm trying to ask you out, girl. You gotta give me something here!" Jesse laughed, and the warmth in his smile brought you back to reality.

"Yes," you breathed, and then swallowed and said more clearly, "yes, of course! I... I would love to."

"Really?"

You nodded enthusiastically. Jesse made a little fist pump.

"Yes! You had me worried for a second there." He started walking backwards again. "But okay, cool. Um, I gotta clean up, and then we got a few mission briefings. Let's meet there at, say... 5? Happy hour, so first round can be on me."

He winked and you giggled, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

"5 o'clock," you confirmed.

"Can't wait, beautiful!" he called over his shoulder as he finally turned around skipped through the fresher door at the end of the hall.

* * *

The rest of your day went by at an agonizing pace, but you finally got off work and could have a little moment of celebration in your quarters, complete with squealing into your pillow and dancing all around. You didn't have too much time to get ready, which ended up being a blessing as you would have surely spent hours cycling through various outfit combinations. You were able to pick the first outfit that came to your mind - cute, comfortable, and very you - without doubting or changing your mind. You spent the rest of your time taming your hair and calming your nerves.

Your anxieties only crept in occasionally, asking such annoying questions as whether you were the only one he'd asked out like this during his time off, or whether he would've found a way to ask you even had you not run into him in the halls.

But there had been joy in his smiles, relief in those tense and deliciously muscular shoulders when you'd agreed. He'd seemed so genuine. How could you worry about whether you were good enough when he'd very clearly asked you out?

So you shoved those pesky thoughts to the side, in a way you hadn't known how to do earlier when there were so many unknowns and uncertainties about the situation. Jesse liked you, he wanted to spend time with you before leaving. That was that.

You got to 79's only a few minutes early and placed yourself comfortably at the bar to wait. He'd been right, it was not crowded or boisterous at all. There were still plenty of people, clones and civvies alike, but enough booths were still open that you wouldn't have trouble finding somewhere to really relax once Jesse showed up.

You gave him about twenty minutes without worry. His meetings could've run long, or the Coruscanti traffic could've held him up. No big deal. You asked for a water from the bartender so you didn't seem rude, and patiently sipped through it while you scrolled on your datapad to pass the time.

As 5:30 drew nearer, though, you began to get concerned. Was he okay? You cursed yourself for not asking for his number, just in case. You glanced around the bar, wishing someone from his troop was here so you could ask. You decided to chance talking to an older, bearded clone who sat just a few seats from you.

"Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to know anyone from the 501st, would you?"

The clone nodded back with a little laugh. "I know some. The ARC troopers, anyway. They're regulars. Doesn't look like they're showing up tonight though. Were you wanting to meet them?"

"Well, I had a date with one. Jesse. I guess he's running a little late. Wasn't sure how to get ahold of him, make sure he's okay."

The clone's eyes narrowed.

"Jesse? Huh, didn't picture him for the dating type. Well, anyway, maybe you're right, just running late. Here, let me order you a drink while you wait."

Now you felt awkward. Silly. Just a silly little girl, sipping a silly little cocktail, waiting for a silly little date she was probably too excited for to begin with. That was always the danger, wasn't it? Get your hopes up too high and it hurts that much more when they come back down.

5:30 turned into 6. Couples passed by, filling up seats around the band that had finally started playing. Clones came up to the bar to order, passing you a pitying look before taking their drinks back to their pretty dates.

6:05. What if he had meant 6? What if you had mis-remembered the time? No, you were pretty sure he'd mentioned happy hour, and there were signs all over the bar about that hour being from 5 to 6.

6:10. Whatever you would've found to do on your datapad had you stayed home for the evening didn't seem to exist now that you were here. You fiddled with a napkin, folding and unfolding until it was falling apart.

6:15. You started thinking about what time you should call it quits and head home. Was it weird you hadn't left by now? Should you have tried harder to get ahold of him sooner?

6:17.

"Hey beautiful! Oh good, you got a drink." Jesse was suddenly by your side, draping an arm around your back and placing a quick peck to the side of your head. He then leaned forward to catch the bartender's attention, not seeing your look of incredulity. Behind him was another trooper, one of the 501st medics, who gave you a polite nod but otherwise looked too grumpy to be there.

"Sorry I'm late, Kix here was moping in the med bay and I had to literally drag his ass off the floor to get him over here."

Jesse was all smiles as he leaned an elbow on the bar and finally took a look at you. He whistled.

"Damn, you look great!"

You were momentarily speechless. You didn't know what to make of this. The casual apology for his tardiness, the fact he'd brought someone else along. But then a couple beers were placed on the counter and he swept them up, nodding his head toward the wall of booths in the back.

"Come on, let's find some seats!"

You hesitated only for a moment before getting up to follow. He'd finally shown up. The evening wouldn't be a total waste. You could talk to him about it later, and definitely make sure to swap numbers so this wouldn't happen again.

Jesse and Kix slid into opposite sides of an empty booth in the far corner, positioned slightly behind where the band was set up so there wasn't a great view. Jesse patted the seat next to him for you to join and gave you another dazzling smile as you slid in.

"You really do look great," he said in a low voice by your ear, making you blush and conjuring up memories of that time he'd called you a hottie. He had his arm along the back of the booth, just behind your head, and you could feel the warmth radiating off him from such a close position.

"Thanks, so do you," you whispered back. He laughed and shook his head, but you meant it. He had a blue sort of vest over his blacks that made him look fit and clean. He also smelled nice and it took all your willpower not to lean in to take a big whiff.

"Hey, lighten up, grouchy pants," Jesse called over to Kix, who was glaring into his beer like it had personally offended him. Jesse raised his own beer in a salute. "This is way better than crying on the floor."

"I wasn't crying on the floor," Kix huffed. "And how is this better? I can't even see the band from here."

"Music's meant to be listened to anyway," Jesse shrugged him off.

"What's his deal?" you asked.

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Some girl he liked made fun of his tattoo idea and now he won't get one."

"I shaved my head for it and everything," Kix lamented.

You held back a snicker. You wished you could ask Jesse why his brother's woes meant he needed to join your date. But not only did you not want to seem rude, but the band switched to a new song that had a faster tempo and for some reason the volume also increased as a result. You were having a hard time hearing your own thoughts; conversation with Jesse would be even more tricky.

The next hour passed in an awkward blur. Jesse flagged down a waitress to refill your cocktail, calling her all the same names he'd been calling you today. Sweetheart, cutie... You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Two more rounds came after that, and you gladly downed each drink just to give yourself something to do. You tried asking him a few questions to get to know him better, but he'd end up turning his answer into some kind of a joke. Most of them were pretty funny, but after a while you got frustrated that he wasn't actually sharing anything with you. He did try to maintain a few conversations, but it was hard to keep things flowing when the band alternated between soft, twinkly instrumentals, and noisy, upbeat rock vocals. And then there was Kix, who had taken up sketching new tattoo ideas on napkins and would ask every five minutes to give your opinions on them.

And then the rest of the 501st piled in, proudly showing off their new ink around the club. Jesse seemed delighted to see them and waived them over, much to your disappointment. He pulled at your arm to get you to slide further into the booth with him, making room for a few clones to slip in, clunky armor and all.

"What you do think?" Hardcase stood at the head of the booth, unabashedly holding up his shirt to reveal a continuation of the blue lines on his head down across his torso.

A chorus of opinions and stories erupted. Fives was trying to reenact Hardcase's squeals as he'd gotten tattooed. Rex was trying to get the clone to pull his shirt back down. Several were ragging on Kix for not joining. And Jesse was laughing hysterically through it all.

You loved to see him so happy, you really did. And maybe it was just the four drinks that were now messing with your head, but you couldn't shake how out of place you felt, sitting in a booth surrounded by clone troopers on what was supposed to be a date between you and Jesse. You had nothing to contribute, no reason for them to pay you any attention. You sat in the middle of a group of people you barely knew, feeling more alone than you had when you'd been waiting at the bar.

Just as you were wondering how you could possibly get out of the booth without making a scene, Kix finally caved in to Fives's nagging about getting his original tattoo idea after all, and the whole lot collectively shimmied out of the booth. You felt Jesse's hand on your elbow, guiding you out. You turned to him once you were both standing.

"Are we really going to a tattoo parlor now?" you asked, hoping he'd see how badly you didn't want to be part of this plan.

"It'll be quick. I think there's an ice cream place near too, we can go there when we're done."

He flashed a reassuring grin and it almost gave you a little bit of hope back. You couldn't remember if you'd ever told him you loved ice cream or if it was a lucky guess. But when you tried to ask if you could just hang out at the ice cream place while the others went for more tattoos, Jesse had already turned to jump on Kix and give him a hard time about crying in the med bay again.

Your ears were ringing from a combination of alcohol, loud music, and annoyance. You couldn't take it anymore. You stepped aside from the group and just gazed at the man who had supposedly wanted your company, and now seemed more content to be in the company of others.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Rex, looking over you with concern. "Are you alright? You don't look so good. Do you want us to take you home to rest?"

You shook your head, all you could manage in response at first. Tears had suddenly sprung into your eyes, you weren't sure why. Maybe because it was the first time someone had offered to do something you wanted tonight.

"Are you sure? I can get you some water or...."

"No, thank you," you finally found your words. "I can get myself home. I'll be fine."

"We can take you..."

"No, really, I'm fine. Just, tell Jesse I'll see him tomorrow before he leaves, okay?"

You hurried off before he could offer any further help, and before you would be caught with tears down your cheeks. You didn't want to make a scene, you didn't want to ruin Jesse's fun. But you didn't get far before the clone was calling your name, grasping the back of your arm and turning you to face him.

"Hey, what's the matter, sweetheart?"

If he hadn't used a nickname, you might have tried to play it off. But you remembered distinctly, even in the midst of your intoxication, the last person he'd called a sweetheart was the waitress in the busty crop top. Something in you snapped.

"Am I a joke to you?"

And there they were, those small cracks in his confidence, reemerging and widening before your eyes. Realization pulled the edges apart more and more as you spoke.

"You made me wait for over an hour. Do you know how ridiculous I felt, sitting at that bar all by myself, wondering what time meant you didn't actually care? And then you did finally come, and not only did I barely get an apology, and definitely no acknowledgement of how much my time you wasted without good reason, but I also didn't even get a proper date. I had to sit through all your flirting, only it wasn't directed at me, but to another woman who's paid to pretend your jokes are funny. You didn't answer any of my questions about yourself. You didn't even ask if I wanted a different drink, you just kept ordering the same one. The music also sucks, by the way. And now we're headed off to hang out with your brothers, people you see every day? While I'm the one you're going to leave tomorrow when you deploy?"

You weren't shouting, and somehow you'd even managed to hold in most of your tears, but your exasperated rant did have the intended affect of making Jesse feel like shit. You could see it written all over him. Remorseful eyes, pleading hands on yours, mouth opening and closing in a desperate attempt to find the words to make things right.

"And you know what really sucks?" you continued, feeling your speech start to slur a bit more in your emotional exhaustion. "I do still like you, Jesse. In fact, I think I've fallen for you. You're normally so good, so attentive and... and... simply wonderful. I just don't understand why you couldn't be that way tonight. For me."

Something dawned on you, something you'd suspected before, all those times you caught him flirting around the base with everyone he came across. Those insecurities found their way back to the surface and claimed their victory.

"It's because it's me, isn't it?" you choked. "You don't really care for me, do you?"

The tears were definitely going to fall now. You could hear him saying your name, you could feel him gripping your hands more firmly, but just then the rest of the 501st went marching by, oblivious to the moment you two were caught in, hollering after Jesse to get his ass out the door before they kicked it. It was distraction enough for you to slip out of his grasp and make a beeline for the refreshers.

The ladies room was on the second floor, a narrow flight of stairs serving as the only barrier between you and your chosen hideout. Unfortunately, it created the perfect storm. You were halfway up, alcohol complicating your ability to balance, tears clouding your vision, and apparently at some point earlier in the evening, someone had left a nice puddle of their insides on one of the steps.

You heard your name being called from behind, startling you, just as your foot made contact with the vomit. You turned, slipped, and next think you knew, you were tumbling painfully down the steps. Later, you'd be grateful that you were unconscious by the time you reached the bottom, crumpled on the floor beneath the only man you had eyes for.

* * *

You regained consciousness with a splitting headache and a heavy heart. You remembered everything almost immediately.

It took a few moments for your vision to swim back into focus, revealing a curtained-off corner of the med bay where you were laid on a gurney with a thin blanket draped over your frame. You could tell you weren't wearing the same clothes from before based on the odd, stiff texture you felt against your skin. Possibly a medical gown? One of your arms was also hooked up to an IV, the monitor glowing faintly off to the side.

In front of you, in what little space was left between the bed and wall, was Jesse, pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. He was clearly in distress, wringing the edge of his shirt and looking for all the world like he was waiting for news on whether you'd live or die.

As conflicted as you still felt about your first date with him, you figured you'd better put him out of his misery.

"It's not that bad, is it?" you croaked out.

The clone wasted no time in rushing to your side, trading his shirt for your free hand, grasping it so tightly you winced. His palms were sweaty.

"No, no Kix said you were going to be fine," Jesse reassured. "Just a cut on your head, there, above your eye." 

You touched at the indicated spot, feeling a short row of stitches along your eyebrow.

"And a few bruises on your back," he added. Made sense why you were now in a medical gown, they had to check for further damage. "And the IV is for your hangover. 

You groaned. "Well if this isn't the most embarrassing thing I've done..."

Jesse made a sort of gasping laugh, like he was surprised to remember there was humor in the galaxy. "Yeah. I know you said you were falling for me but I didn't expect you to actually fall."

You glared over at him, but only for a moment. He was a deer in headlights, waiting to see if his attempt to lighten the mood had gone too far. You started laughing, a silent laugh that still shook your chest enough to hurt. You went back to groaning.

"You know I'm still upset with you."

"I know, I know," Jesse hurried to affirm. He scooted a chair over to be closer and looked up at you with those soft, brown, desperate eyes you'd last seen in the bar. He truly looked miserable. "You have every right to be. The date was a disaster and it was all my fault. I was an idiot, I never meant to make you feel that way."

You nodded but didn't have anything else to say that you hadn't already.

"And for the record, you're not a joke. You're far from it. You're... you're..." He was stuttering, licking his lips as if parched. You'd never seen him - Jesse, the huge flirt - act so unsure of himself, especially when trying to pay a compliment.

He reached for your hand again but held it more gently this time, more reverently. He studied it, as if the words he needed were written on your skin. "It is you, but not in that way you thought. It's always been you. For me. But I guess I did a piss poor job of making sure you knew that tonight."

He flicked his eyes back up to yours, questioning, cautious.

"So..." you tried to wrap your head around what he was confessing. "All those things you've said, about how I looked, and how smart I am... all that. You meant it?"

"Of course I did." Jesse gave you a small but sincere smile.

"But... you've said all those things to other people, too. Did you mean it to them?"

His smiled fainted as he thought about your question and what his flatteries looked like from your perspective. He bowed his head for a moment before looking back up at you. "I just want people to feel good about themselves. One of my first experiences off of Kamino, I came across this woman who'd lost her husband, and that wasn't something we were prepared for. All the ways the war actually hurt people. But then I started talking about her hair and how it looked like silk, and she just lit up. And I don't know, I guess I got addicted, making other people feel good like that. You never know what someone else may be going through. They can be smiling and still need that little pick-me-up, you know?"

Your gaze never wavered from him as he spoke. This was more than you ever knew about the man, and you couldn't deny how it made your chest feel simultaneously tense and mushy.

"And yeah, maybe I lay it on a little thicker sometimes when I'm actually interested for myself, you know, not just making someone's day better. And you don't know who may fire back until you shoot your shot. But I'd always hoped it'd be you. That's why I never gave up, even when everyone told me to. They said you weren't interested. I thought you were just shy."

"I am," you whispered, suddenly self conscious. It was clear now that the soldier had frequented the accounting office more than he had any other reason to, that it was not the only office to get good sun in the afternoons if that was truly his excuse.

"I wish you'd told me," you added. "This is the sort of thing I was trying to learn about you earlier."

Jesse's rueful eyes returned. "Ah, yes, on the worst date in history, brought to you by this dummy."

"It wasn't the worst. Bad, yes, but sadly I have been on worse."

Jesse didn't seem comforted by that. He shook his head. "Would it surprise you to know I, uh... I've never been on a date?"

You blinked at him in surprise.

"Not that that's any excuse," he quickly added.

"Right, but, you didn't know what to do." You felt like you were starting to understand him more. "You did what you knew. What you were comfortable with."

"I kept making jokes because I thought if you weren't laughing then you weren't having a good time. I kept ordering the same drink because I didn't know you might want something else, I thought that was what you wanted and I wanted to..."

"You wanted to make me happy."

"And you wanted to feel special."

You gazed at each other for a long moment, exchanging looks of regret and realization. It was an unfortunate evening, but probably not avoidable. There had been enough misunderstanding from both of you that would've always led you to the same moment. You couldn't have known how the other felt, what they wanted, where they were coming from, until you'd gotten to know each other. And you couldn't have gotten to know each other without the misalignments being revealed.

He was the first to speak again, still feeling miserable about the whole thing. "I was late. I could've at least got that right. I lose track of time, sometimes. I don't know why."

He hung his head but you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to show him you were okay, and he relaxed in your grip in return, giving you a relieved, though still sheepish, smile.

"I wish you weren't leaving tomorrow," you said quietly. "I feel like we need a do-over on our date now."

Jesse perked up. "What do you mean? This first one's not over yet! There's still time to redeem it."

You looked about the room. "Doesn't seem very romantic. No food. No music. I'm in a tacky gown."

"Nonsense, you look hot."

Jesse held up a finger and ducked behind the curtain. He was gone for only a minute, but your cheeks were still flushed by the time he got back.

"What, you like that one? Hot?" he grinned.

You looked shyly away but still gave a nod.

"Noted."

He had a handful of what looked to be protein bars and a datapad that he deposited onto the bed beside you.

"Food, aaand..." he tapped a few times on the pad until some sort of lo-fi jazz started playing, "... music."

You giggled. "You stole these from Kix, didn't you?"

"His office is in the next room," Jesse laughed with you. "I know it's not glamorous and you deserve a much better do-over from me, but..."

"It's perfect," you whispered, grabbing his hand again. "There is one thing, though."

"Yeah?" he asked eagerly.

"Well, this cut on my head is kind of hurting. Maybe you could... kiss it better?"

You couldn't believe the words that were coming out of your mouth, but you knew with Jesse they'd be received well. And boy did his face light up.

He wasted no time in leaning over you, carefully placing a hand by your side to brace himself, and bringing the other up to cradle the opposite side of your face. His breath ghosted over the stitched up cut, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. Then he finally planted his lips softly over it, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling back.

"What other names do you like?" he asked, his voice low but tinged with a sort of playfulness that kept the mood light in the midst of these more intimate gestures. "We'll take them off the table for anyone else. They'll only belong to you."

He'd sat himself down next to you and was now lifting up the hand with the IV. You watched, enamored as he brought it toward his lips.

"I like sweetheart," you breathed.

He kissed just above where the IV was taped, a smile behind his action. "Sweetheart. What else?"

"Beautiful."

"I meant, what else is injured so I can kiss it?" he teased. You used your hand to swat at him, even though it hurt a little, and he laughed.

"There were bruises on your back right?" he pretended to lift your gown and you swatted again, this time with your good hand.

"That sort of behavior is for the second date, sir," you laughed. "Or maybe the third or fourth. We'll see."

Jesse brought a pair of protein bars around and made a mock salute with you. "To future dates, then, beautiful."

~ ~ ~

Everything Tag: @damerondala, @dangerousstrawberrypie, @fallingforthem, @harleyevanstan, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @justanothersadperson93, @misogirl828, @itsagrimm, @error6gendernotfound, @theroguesully, @clonesimp, @techie-bear

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[winniethewife]

*sighs dreamily*

[bunny7567]

Hellooo,

First of all I wanna say that I love your writings so so much. I couldn’t imagine getting so into a long fic as I get into your story about Rex and Lexie. The stupidest thing about it is that I didn't even want to read it at first because I usually only read stories in first person. When I got to the part where they have sex in front of the fireplace, I was so excited inside because it's honestly one of my favorite places to have sex too and I've never read a story where that happens.

It's also so accurate and entertaining how you describe the dynamic between the clones of the 501st and it's just so beautiful to read.

My request would be for Wollfe x medic with dialogs 22 and 24.

I would be very happy about a situation similar to the 501st in 79, but with the 104th. Since you also asked about songs, I'm incredibly fond of listening to Legs by ZZtop right now and could also imagine a dynamic in which a self-confident medic has been suggestive towards Wolffe for some time and then they have their night off and meet a little too drunk. But whatever you like! I’m betting on your fantasy.

It is probably superfluous to say that it can be explicit..

Lots of love from Germany🫶🏻🫶🏻

Melissa

Girl, you got it right

Pairing: Wolffe x fem!Reader / Wolffe x medic!Reader

Word count: 5.6k I got waaay too carried away Tags/Warnings: NSFW 18+; semi-public sex; pinv sex; more kissing than sex but oh well; Reader has a nickname; unprotected deployment of troopers (wrap it up guys)

Promps: 22. You have exactly three seconds to stop looking at me like that. 24. Was that your plan? Just show up and ruin my self-control?

A/n: Thank you for the request, and thank you so much for your lovely words 🥹 I'm so glad you like the Rex and Lexie story, and that you gave it a chance even if it's not in 1st person. That's such a big compliment. I'm really happy the fireplace scene is appreciated 😂 I had so much fun with it. The 501st dynamic is just my comfort zone at this point, and the boys basically write themselves 😂 Sorry this request took so long to finish, but hopefully it was worth the wait. Writing a self-confident reader was really challenging since I have none of that lol.

Taglist | Masterlist

cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart mesh'la - beautiful kar'am - breath

~~~

You admire yourself in the mirror, smoothing down the hem of your very short dress. The silver fabric hugs your curves perfectly, almost like it was tailor-made just for you. It feels like ages since you've been out of the scrubs you wear in the medbay or the armor you wear in the field. Even longer since you've put on make-up.

Maybe you went a little overboard, but tonight, you’re a woman on a mission.

Because tonight you're finally going to do something about the tension simmering between you and Wolffe.

You were assigned to the 104th months ago, and from the moment you met the Commander, you felt a spark.

Well... at first it was a spark of anger, but the line quickly blurred into desire.

You joined the GAR voluntarily, right out of medschool, and after some rushed training, you were dropped straight into a war zone.

 No warm up, no preparation.

Just an LAAT hovering low enough for you to safety jump off, then start running to the injured troopers closest to you.

It was a mess.

Chaos. Pure chaos.

You expected it, but Maker – nothing could've prepared you for the reality. Blasterbolts were flying through the air all around you and loud explosions were rattling the ground. The smell hit you the worst. You almost gagged at the stench of melted plastoid mixed with the unmistakable odour or scorched flesh. It was foul. Nauseating.

You somehow pulled through. With a heart rate of most likely 140 and slightly shaky hands, you still managed to do your job admirably. You triaged and bandaged and moved troopers to the medevac zone. Then the battle died down and you scanned the field.

The other medics – clones and nat-borns – seemed to have it covered. All the injured had someone seeing to them.

All except one.

A clone trooper was limping through the field, helmet moving from side to side, surveying the area. He was holding his left arm, and scorch marks were visible on the plastoid of his armor. But somehow he still had the most commanding presence you’ve ever seen.

You immediately ran over.

"Sit down, let me examine you," you said firmly, already pushing your medpack off your shoulders.

"I'm fine," the man growled, trying to walk past you.

You frowned. "You're injured. Sit down."

His helmet locked onto you. "I said I'm fine," he repeated, voice tight.

"And I said you're injured. Sit!"

"Do you know who I–"

"I don't care if you're the Commander of the kriffing battalion," you interrupted, all your patience gone. "I am a medic, you are injured. Right know I outrank you. Sit. Down."

The trooper stared at you, his expression unknown behind the dark visor of his helmet. You didn't back down, and finally he complied.

Later you'd learn that he was, in fact, the Commander of the kriffing battalion.

And he was not pleased with you.

He actually tried to have you reassigned...

Which made you so angry, you barged in his office aboard the Hand of Justice.

"What the hell is this?' you thundered, holding you datapad.

Wolffe didn't even look up from the report he was writing. "Reassignment request."

You scoffed. "Why?"

"Incompatibility with the battalion," he replied dryly.

"Are you serious?" you demanded. "I've been on one – one – damn mission and I did my job perfectly! I had no casualties."

He finally looked up, his mismatched gaze piercing you like a vibroblade. "And you were insubordinate in the process."

"Insub– Are you fucking kidding me? Is this because I treated your damn injury?"

"It's because you–"

"I outrank you! In the field, in case of a medical emergency, I outrank everyone," you declared. "If anyone was insubordinate, it was you."

Wolffe's jaw clenched and he glared at you.

Whatever cutting remark he was about to throw back was interrupted by blaring alarms however – the battalion was urgently being rerouted as reinforcements for the 91st.

You deployed again as a medic, and the battle had you pinned at one point between two advancing Separatist units while you desperately tried to save the life of an injured sergeant – Sinker, he told you his name was.

The blasterfire was relentless – one bolt even scraped your thigh – and you had to grab the clone's blaster to defend the two of you. Somehow, you were successful. You held the droids off long enough for Wolffe and the others to get to you.

And that was a turning point.

There was something about seeing you like that – it struck Wolffe in a way he hadn't expected.

Your left hand was pressed on Sinker's lower abdomen, latex glove soaked in blood as you kept pressure on the wound. In your right hand you were holding a blaster, which instantly snapped toward Wolffe and his men as they approached from behind.

"Easy," he said, raising his hands.

"Took you long enough," you shouted, adrenaline coursing through you like an electrical current. "I need a corridor to the medevac now!"

Wolffe huffed a barely audible laugh and helped you get Sinker to the gunships.

You didn't get an apology from him, but the next rotation you saw that the reassignment order had been rescinded.

After that, things shifted. Slowly. Your relationship improved – until you noticed him lingering in the medbay after checking on the wounded. Then dropping by simply to ask if you’d eaten or taken a break. Somehow, he always ended up next to you in the mess.

And then you realized you were waiting for him. You caught yourself glancing at the door, hoping he’d walk through. You gravitated toward him every time you were in the same space. The air between you shifted enough for the others to notice, and soon the teasing began.

 Then Wolffe gave you a nickname – one that replaced your name in nearly every conversation, even with General Plo.

A ‘clone-style’ callsign, a mark of belonging: Kar’am.

“You keep us breathing,” he explained, his voice composed. But there’d been something in his eyes when he said it, something almost raw, vulnerable. Something that made your heart skip a beat.

But he still wouldn't make a move.

So you decided you had to take matters into your own hands.

By the time you reach the 79s, the sun has dropped past the horizon. The sky is painted in beautiful pinks and violets and clouds are slowly gathering above. Daylight is steadily replaced by the neon glow of the cantina's sign, casting a yellowish spotlight on the landing pad.

Heads turn as the airtaxi door opens and you step out, the hem of your already short dress riding dangerously high. A couple wolf-whistles follow you as you stride inside the 79s and you smile triumphantly. It’s not that you crave their attention – but if the clones loitering outside are reacting like this, surely Wolffe will too. You hope so, anyway. The silver dress is for him.

The cantina is pulsing with life. The music is loud, bass booming in your stomach in an inviting rhythm that makes you yearn for the dancefloor. You almost laugh as a thought enters your mind – there’s no way you’ll get the Commander to dance with you, no matter how hard you try. Maybe one of the other boys.

Blue and green strobe lights make it hard to get your bearings, harder still to spot familiar armor markings in the crowd. You decide to get a drink first, then journey through the dancing masses in search for the Wolfpack grey. Boost said something about a preferred table on the first floor if you remember right.

You’re halfway to the bar when Comet passes by, his eyes flicking automatically over you, lingering on your bare legs. He looks away, keeps moving… and then stops dead, spins around, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Kriffing hell, Kar’am!” he exclaims. “I almost didn’t recognise you.”

You cross your arms with a scoff. “Well that’s a bit insulting.”

“Osik, no!” Comet blurts. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just– I-I’m not used to seeing you in anything but scrubs or armor.”

His hand goes to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously as he stammers through another apology.

“Relax, Corporal,” you laugh. “I’m just messing with you. Honestly, I barely recognised myself in the mirror. It’s been too long since I got dressed up.”

He exhales, shoulders loosening. “Y-You look great. Really great.” Then quieter, almost like the comment just slips out, “Wolffe’s gonna lose his mind.”

Your grin turns devious. Excellent sign.

“Where are you boys seated?” you shout over the music.

“Upstairs. Big booth. I came down to order another round.”

“What’s everyone having?”

“Sinker, Boost and I are drinking ale. Warthog’s on rum. Commander’s having spotchka,” he lists.

You mull it over. Matching Wolffe’s drink would be a bold move… but Maker, spotchka is vile.

“Get me an Alderaan Twist?” you decide.

Comet gives you a two-finger salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your excitement increases as you approach the stairs, and you climb them two steps at a time. The booth awaits ahead, so you take a moment to run a hand through your hair and smooth the hem of your dress. Then you straighten, and put on your most charming smile as you slowly make your way over.

Sinker and Boost lounge in the middle of the bench, nearly empty bottles of ale scattered in front of them. On the right, Warthog has company – one of your fellow medics, Duri, half perched on his lap. Their eyes meet yours and Duri flashes an encouraging smile.

Wolffe sits on the left, his broad back turned toward you. He hasn’t noticed you yet. You, however, have plenty of time to study him – and damn if he isn’t a sight. He’s not wearing the upper part of his armor, instead sporting the short-sleeved version of his bodyglove. The fabric is pulled tight over the muscles in his broad back, and his strong biceps somehow look even bigger than with the armor on. Your mouth waters at the sight of his tattoo sleeve – you’ve seen it before, but it always hits you how damn well it suits him.

Maker, that man is fine. Tonight, you’re making him yours.

You stop in front of the table, one hand resting on your hip. “Hi, boys,” you smile sweetly.

Heads turn to you, and their reactions are priceless. Boost chokes on the last sip of his ale, trying unsuccessfully to hide it with a cough. Sinker’s eyes go wide, and you’re pretty sure he mutters a “kriff me” under his breath. But it’s Wolffe’s reaction that you savour the most.

The Commander freezes. His hand actually freezes mid-movement, rim of his glass nearly touching his lips. His eyes slowly drop down your legs. And Maker, the intensity of his gaze – he’s looking at you like you’re his last meal before an execution.

It doesn’t last long. Wolffe recovers in a few seconds. He downs the last sip of his drink, then sets the glass down on the table with more force than intended, making the rest of the empty glasses and bottles rattle lightly.

Gotcha.

“Kar’am,” he nods, his voice just a little strained.

“Can I, Commander?” you ask innocently, tilting your head to the bench.

Wolffe pushes to his feet, wordlessly moving aside so you can slip onto the bench. Once you’re settled, he takes the seat beside you, immediately reaching back for his empty drink, and you angle your body just enough that your knees brush his leg under the table. The grip on his glass tightens.

“Are you okay there?” you turn your head to ask Boost, who’s still smacking his chest and coughing.

“Sure,” he croaks. “Just– Stars, Kar’am, warn a guy next time before you show up like that.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you wave him off.

“We’re really not,” Sinker says with a chuckle. “Who knew that’s what you were hiding under those scrubs.”

“Yeah,” Warthog adds, voice sly as his eyes quickly dart between you and Wolffe. “You look like you’re out for blood.”

You lean back in your seat, pressing your knees more firmly against Wolffe as you shift.

“Maybe,” you muse. “I haven’t decided yet.”

You risk a glance at the man next to you, and bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. Wolffe’s gaze is fixed firmly on your legs, his brows drawn together like he’s at war with himself not to touch you.

“Are you alright, Commander?” you ask sweetly. “It doesn’t look like you’re having fun. Is there anything I can help with?”

His eyes snap to yours, gaze sharp and piercing. And very much not amused.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he drawls, voice low.

“Oh, I always worry about my favourite commander,” you purr.

Wolffe stares at you, the comment catching him off guard. Lucky for him, he’s spared from having to come up with a reply when Comet returns with a tray of drinks. Honestly, you’re impressed he managed to bring the entire order himself – and up the stairs nonetheless.

“Next round, gentlemen. And lovely medics,” he announces, sliding a glass of rum to Warthog before handing you a spotchka.

You look at the blue liquid confused, then slide it over to Wolffe.

“I believe this is your swamp water,” you say with a small grimace.

He slides the glass closer to him, eyes never leaving yours. “You got a problem with my choice of drink?”

“First of all, you cannot call that poison a ‘drink,’” you fire back. “Second of all, it’s absolutely vile.”

Sinker snorts into his ale. “She’s got you there, Commander.”

Wolffe tips his head toward the bright pink cocktail Comet just set in front of you. “And what’s that supposed to be? Fruity soda for younglings?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s an Alderaan Twist, and it’s actually drinkable and enjoyable.”

He eyes the glass suspiciously, before his lips curl into a small, devious smirk. With the trained speed of a clone commander, Wolffe snatches it from your fingers, bringing it to his lips before you even register what happened.

“Hey!” you protest.

You try to grab it back, but Wolffe’s free hand shoots out, catching your wrist mid-air. And your brain nearly short-circuits. His grasp is firm, unyielding – almost possessive – and heat floods your skin where his calloused fingers wrap around you. His mismatched eyes lock on yours as he takes a slow sip.

 “This tastes awful,” he comments, setting the glass down with deliberate care. “Just sugar water.”

You tilt your chin and smirk at him, despite the way your heart races in your chest. “Might taste better on my lips, you know.”

The entire booth falls silent. If it weren’t for the loud music of the cantina, you could probably hear a pin drop. Comet’s eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline and Warthog lets out a low whistle just as Duri mutters a ‘damn’.

Sinker leans closer to Boost. “Oh, she really is out for blood,” he says, voice low, but not low enough.

Wolffe’s carefully crafted composure nearly breaks – you see it in the way his jaw ticks as his eyes quickly dart to your lips. Almost like they acted without his permission.

He leans in, close enough that his breath brushes your skin, and growls, “Careful, Kar’am. Don’t make offers you don’t plan to follow through.”

Only then do you notice he’s still holding your wrist, now resting against his thigh. He can probably feel your hammering pulse. But a few nerves have never stopped you before.

“I always follow through,” you declare, eyes deliberately lingering on his mouth.

“You have exactly three seconds to stop looking at me like that,” Wolffe says, voice an octave lower.

“Or what?” you challenge.

“Or you'll regret it.”

You meet his darkened eyes. “I doubt that very much, Commander.”

His grip on your wrist tightens, just slightly. He holds your stare, waiting – giving you an out, one last chance to walk back behind the line he’s dying to cross. But you tilt your head, defiant. There’s no way you’re retreating now.

Wolffe exhales sharply through his nose. Not amused. Dangerously determined.

“Alright, that's it.”

He stands in one fluid motion and yanks you from the booth, dragging you after him. You yelp, startled, but don’t even think of resisting.

“Nice knowing you, Kar’am,” Boost calls after you.

“I’ll call in sick tomorrow on your behalf,” Duri pipes up.

Without turning your head, you lift your middle finger high above you. Their loud cheers and laughter follow you for a moment, before being swallowed by the cantina’s music as Wolffe guides you downstairs.

His strides are long, urgent and determined, and not once does he glance back at you. He carves a path straight through the dancefloor, the crowd instinctively parting for him. You feel eyes tracking you as you trail after him, curious… some amused. A few of the 104th even nod knowingly to their commander, grins tugging at their lips. You’re gonna be the gossip of the entire battalion – not that you mind too much.

Wolffe doesn’t spare them a glance. He doesn’t stop until he’s pushed you into a storeroom, stepping in after you. The door shuts with a sharp click as he locks it.

The room is small and crowded, racks of alcohol bottles lining the walls, a mop and bucket shoved in the corner. A weak ceiling light struggles against the shadows, leaving most of the space dim.

The music outside is muffled now, replaced by the thunder of your heartbeat. And that only grows louder when Wolffe turns, eyes catching yours with a predatory glint. One step is all it takes for him to be right in front of you. He’s clearly expecting you to back away, retreat, but when you don’t move, a small smirk curls the left corner of his lips.

He leans in slightly, his intense gaze fanning the desire already burning in your core.

“Was that your plan? Just show up and ruin my self-control?” he asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yes,” you breathe. “That was exactly it.”

“Beautifully executed,” he says, sounding almost impressed.

Then he moves – so fast you barely have time to gasp.

His left hand firmly anchors on the back of your neck as he pulls you in for a searing kiss. The other hand grips your hip – firm enough to bruise. His mouth is instantly dominating yours, warm lips devouring, claiming. You grasp the fabric of his top with both hands, needing the support as you melt into him. The kiss is hard and urgent, stealing the breath from your lungs.

He pushes you further into the room, and your back hits the metal rack behind you. The impact is strong enough to make a few bottles of booze rattle loudly against each other, causing you to break the kiss and snap your head towards the noise. Wolffe lets out a displeased huff, and he turns your head to face him, calloused fingers gripping your chin.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he orders.

His commanding voice sends a shiver down your spine and you obey, meeting his piercing gaze. The pupil in his natural eye is blown with desire, and while his restraint is impeccable, you do catch it – his breathing is almost as laboured as yours.

“Maybe you need to do better to hold my attention,” you challenge.

For a split second, his jaw clenches – that little tic you’ve learned means you’ve really gotten under his skin. Then he arches an eyebrow and huffs a low, dangerous laugh.

You gasp when he presses his thigh between yours, the sudden pressure shooting pleasure through your body. Wolffe smirks, triumphant.

“No more clever remarks, Kar’am?” he taunts, sliding both hands down your hips and pulling you tighter against him.

A breathy moan escapes your lips as the pressure builds in your core – but Wolffe is prepared to swallow it. His mouth crashes back onto yours, hot and claiming, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You open wider to welcome him in, your mind a frenzied mess. But the bitter taste of spotchka lingers on his tongue, grounding you in the sharp, shocking reality.

It’s actually happening. Finally! After months of pent-up hunger, you’re finally kissing him.

Wolffe pulls back, and you chase his lips, stealing one more peck before he’s too far away. He studies you carefully, and you cannot look away. A small, smug smile curves his mouth, devious and devastating.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to shut that bratty mouth of yours,” he rasps, hand cupping your jaw and thumb dragging across your lower lip.

“Then why’d you wait so long?” you whisper, heart hammering against your ribs.

His voice drops low, rough with restraint, “Because I don’t take risks with things that matter. If I’d been wrong, I could’ve lost you.”

Heat rushes to your face and for a moment you just stare at him. There’s a vulnerable edge in his voice you’ve rarely heard before. You reach up, brushing your fingers along his cheek. His stubble is coarse against your skin, but when Wolffe leans into your touch, your heart soars.

“I think it’s pretty clear now that you weren’t wrong,” you purr, a soft smile curling your lips.

“It is,” he agrees.

Wolffe leans in to kiss you again – but this time it’s different. His mouth moves against yours slowly, like he can finally savour it now that he’s sure you won’t disappear from his grasp. You wrap your arms around his neck, one hand playing with the short hair on the back on his head. Tongues flirt and tangle, and you don’t even mind the faint aroma of spotchka anymore – it’s actually pleasant when you taste it on him.

His left hand abandons its post on your hip, sliding down to your thigh. In one swift move, he hooks your leg around his waist, grip tightening on your bare flesh. The hem of your dress hikes indecently high.

“I need to know, mesh’la,” he murmurs between kisses. “Was this intentional?”

“Was what intentional?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Wolffe fists the silky fabric of your dress, yanking it higher to expose half your ass. “This,” he says. “You, wrapped so nicely in silver.”

You grin against his lips. “It was,” you confess. “I wore it for you.”

He groans, the sound deep and hungry, and crushes his mouth back onto yours, tongue eagerly claiming you. Then he tears his lips away, trailing them down your neck. You throw your head back against the shelf, gasping when his teeth scrape across your pulse point, moaning outright when he sucks a bruise into the tender skin. It’s the most exquisite feeling, and you cannot help the way you grind on Wolffe’s armored thigh.

His hand abandons your leg, sliding until it seizes your ass, fingers harshly digging into the flesh. The possessive hold leaves no question: your body belongs to him now. His other hand moves with equal determination to your breast, pushing the fabric of your dress out of the way. He easily slips his calloused fingers underneath your lacy bralette so he can start toying with the hardened nipple, and grins against your skin when you whimper in response.

Need surges through you, hot and urgent. You must have him – and you must have him right now. Your hands drag down his chest, palms skimming the smooth fabric of his top. But it’s the outline of his defined muscles that almost makes you lose your mind. You even do a double take on his abs – Maker, this man is so well built it’s unfair.

Wolffe’s lips claim yours again, a deep, ardent kiss that scrambles your thoughts. You give in, keenly receiving every sweep of his tongue and bite of his teeth. But then your senses return and you remember your objective. With trembling hands, you fumble with his belt buckle, and after a few clumsy attempts, his kama falls to the ground.

Your fingers immediately begin searching for the clasps that will free him from the codpiece – but Wolffe catches both your wrists in one hand. He drops your leg, leaving you off balance, the denial intentional.

His mouth hovers at your ear, voice low and rough. “Ask nicely, Kar’am. And maybe I’ll help you.”

You stare at him, breath coming out fast and ragged. Irritation spikes though your chest, but you fight the urge to retort with a snarky comment. You’re too worked up – challenging him right now would only delay what you’re desperate for.

And if Wolffe wants you to beg, then you will beg.

“Please,” you whisper, sultry and wrecked with need. “Please, Wolffe. I need you.”

You hold his gaze, biting your lip and batting your lashes for good measure. Wolffe exhales slowly, his grip on your wrists tightening.

He shakes his head and the look he’s giving you turns reverent. “Cyar’ika, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Then he pounces, capturing your lips in another all-consuming kiss. He frees your wrists, and your hands immediately slide up his broad chest, feeling the taut muscle beneath the bodyglove. A sharp clatter follows – plastoid hitting the floor – as he unclasps his codpiece. You’re trembling in anticipation.

Wolffe grabs the underside of your thighs, hauling you up as if you weigh nothing, and you instinctively lock your legs tight around his waist. He pushes you against the shelves, the metal creaking and bottles clinking together.

“Hold on,” he orders, voice a low growl. You obey with no argument, fingers digging into the solid planes of his shoulders.

His hardened length presses against your centre, and you gasp, the sound swallowed as Wolffe crashes his mouth to yours. He bites your lower lip, groaning as his hips start grinding against you. One hand fists the silky fabric at your hip, yanking it higher, until the hem is gathered around your waist. The other grips your thigh, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

Wolffe pulls away to admire your flushed cheeks. He smirks, and with trained precision, he slides his hand between your legs, brushing his thumb over your soaked panties.

“So wet already,” he groans. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, your entire body shivering as he grazes your clit.

That’s all he needs to hear. Wolffe shoves your underwear aside, then pulls his blacks just low enough for his hardened cock to spring free. He drags the tip though your folds a few times, watching your expression carefully. And then he takes what’s his, and in one swift motion, he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

You gasp loudly. The stretch is overwhelmingly ecstatic. Your head tips back against the shelf and your eyes squeeze shut as Wolffe begins slowly dragging his cock in and out.

“Fuck, it’s even better than I imagined,” you whimper.

Wolffe chuckles smugly. “Thought about this much, mesh’la?”

You open your eyes, finding his heated gaze. “Oh, you have no idea.”

That answer pleases Wolffe, and his thrusts pick up speed. He moves inside you with deep, relentless strokes, holding you pinned between the shelf and his body. Your nails dig into his top, hard enough that you’re certain it’ll leave crescent-shaped marks on his skin even through the fabric.

The tip of his cock brushes against that spot inside of you perfectly, and your loud moans echo around the small room. The sound spurs him on, fuelling his determination to unravel you completely. He fucks into you with fervour, the pace quick and brutal, low grunts escaping his lips.

Pleasure is quickly building in your core, simmering hotter with every deep thrust. The shelves are digging sharply into your back, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when you’re so, so close.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Not a chance,” Wolffe growls through gritted teeth.

His hips drive into you again and again, his rhythm quickening – relentless but controlled. The metal rack creaks, shaking violently under the force of his passion. Bottles rattle against each other, their clinking growing louder and louder. Then suddenly, a sharp crack echoes through the room as one of them topples and shatters on the floor. A strong wave of rum-scented air rises around you, dizzying, intoxicating.

You want to laugh, but the only sound that tears from your throat is a loud cry of his name as the pressure finally explodes. Tingling heat rushes from your core through every part of you, so powerful that for a second you’re not sure if you’re still breathing.

Wolffe doesn’t falter. He fucks you through it, his mouth attacking your exposed neck, biting and sucking and prolonging your high. His grunts grow louder and his grip on your thighs is definitely now bruising. Only once he feels your walls relax around him, the rhythm shift – turns rougher, sloppier. His forehead falls into the crook of your neck.

“Where?” he asks, voice strained with effort. His hot breath on your skin makes you shiver.

“Inside,” you moan.

Wolffe mumbles a curse under his breath, and thrusts into you harder, faster. Then suddenly he stills, buried as deep as possible, every muscle taut as he finally lets go. A low groan vibrates against your throat and you feel the twitch of his cock as his warm release coats your walls.

The room is filled with the sound of both your ragged breaths, the heavy smell of rum, and the solid weight of him holding you in place. You stroke the hair on the back of his head, damp with sweat, giving you both of you a moment to come down from your highs.

Wolffe inhales deeply, then presses a small kiss on your neck before carefully pulling out and returning your feet to the ground. Your knees buckle, still weak and trembling with pleasure, so you brace your hands on his shoulders for support. He steadies you with a firm grip on your hips.

“If you let go, I'll collapse,” you warn, still a little out of breath.

“Good,” he chuckles proudly. “Means I did my job right.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh you did your job too well. Kriffing ruined me for anyone else.”

Wolffe smirks, triumphant and devious. Then he leans close to murmur in your ear, “Maybe that was my plan.”

“Beautifully executed, Commander,” you echo his earlier words. He chuckles.

The gruff sound wraps around you like a warm blanket and you can’t help it – you pull him down for another slow kiss. His tongue lazily brushes your lips, but he doesn’t push in. Instead, he allows you to take the lead, matching your gentle pace.

When his lips leave yours, it’s only so he can press a quick kiss to your forehead. Then he steps back, but doesn’t remove his hands from your body.

“You ok to stand now?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” you nod.

He lets go, hand hovering close until he’s certain you won’t fall. Then he gathers his codpiece and kama, reattaching everything in place while you run a hand through your ruffled hair and smooth down the hem of your dress.

Wolffe gives you a once-over. His gaze lingers on your legs long enough that heat flares in your cheeks before he finally meets your eyes.

“Let’s go,” he then orders.

“Where?”

“Back to the booth. I still have a drink to finish,” he says.

“Do you really expect me to sit back with everyone and pretend you didn’t just fuck me in a storeroom?” you ask incredulous.

Wolffe brushes his thumb above your collarbone. “No need to try and pretend, cyar’ika,” he smirks. “I made sure to leave my mark.”

You push his hand away with a scoff – but there’s no hiding the smile that brightens your face.

Ever the gentleman, Wolffe unlocks the door and gesture for you to step out first. With your head held high, you make your way through the crowd and up the stairs, the commander walking right by your side. A few heads turn, and whispers follow, but your proudly meet their curious glances. Some boys from your battalion grin widely in response.

“Guys! She survived!” Comet exclaims when he sees the two of you approach.

“And with only a few battle scars,” you shoot back, gesturing to the hickeys before they can poke fun at them.

You take your earlier seat and reach for the Alderaan Twist, still untouched on the table. The ice has long melted, and the drink is more diluted as a consequence – but it’s still good. Wolffe settles on the bench next to your, his broad frame pressed against yours. You lean into him.

“We were worried there for a second,” Boost continues teasingly.

“Don’t get why,” you reply with a grin. “I’ve had the best time.”

“I bet you did,” Warthog comments. “Too bad the music’s so loud. Maybe we would’ve heard you.”

You feel Wolffe tense by your side.

“That’s enough, trooper,” he drawls. His voice is calm but you don’t miss the way his jaw ticks.

“Sorry, Sir,” Warthog says, but the sly grin doesn’t leave his face.

The men know better than to push, so they resume whatever conversation they were having while you and the Commander were away. You settle more into his side, and Wolffe wraps his arm around you, hand resting on your hip. With a small tilt of your head, you catch him watching you and smile.

Wolffe raises his drink. “To new beginnings,” he says quietly, only for you to hear.

Your smile grows, and you clink your glass to his. “To new beginnings.”

Taglist: @selene131 , @kindalonelystars , @selaphielss , @0avanae0

[bunny7567]

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.”

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