Good god I'm shadowbanned again. This is a side blog. My main is @manilovewater if anyone wants to dm. I won't reblog anything for now bcs I don't wanna risk it—instead I'll comment in your posts under my main!
🙄 Updates (edits)
03/28/25: GUESS WHO'S BACK @orangez3st 🥳 now where's my unbanning on my other 4 blogs Tumblr 😭 my reblogging and other activities will be from that blog <3
03/27/25: WOW Tumblr actually replied to my terminated account appeal that was sent in panic and no explanation given so now I have to reply back 😭 and fyi it took 20 days after the incident (3/6)
03/24/25: Main is also banned after a 'you need to verify your email' pop-up which I did but my message tab isn't back in place yet 🙃 I have too many Tumblr's rn but that's just my way to connect to the community?? I'm @swallowingdroidpopper btw
03/15/25: Received automated response email at 1039 AM (UTC+7). Bad timing to send a ticket bcs it's 10 PM in the US rn but whatever. A username search in postlimit.com somehow isn't showing anything (404).
Summary: You and Bacara travel to Spira to spend rare quality time together on different beaches every time you visit. It only takes 13 beaches for him to find one empty without you.
Rating: Teen & Up – 16+ for suggestive themes
Tags & Warnings: songfic, established relationship, comfort, angst, but more angst, forbidden relationship, death of a loved one, reader is described to have hair that some breeze blew over, reader is commander but not padawan, suggestive themes (implied sexual acts), mentioned Mandalorian culture.
Word Count: 3.1k
A/N: Lana Del Rey made me write this in 8 hours with a whole different writing style (compared to the 8-ball Echo one? astronomical) and look I know this guy is a rough one but he needs a soft and angsty spotlight shining down on him too, okay? Enjoy (and bawl)!
Your sweet melodic voice had never failed to lull him. Accompanied by the sheer breeze the little piece of paradise and the solemnity thereof it had to offer, he tried to breathe easier and enjoyed your presence, just like you enjoyed his, too. Sure, he'd been breaking about fifty or so regulations by now, but both of you had made a pact – and a pact was not meant to be broken. Never meant to be broken.
“After the war's over, I mean.”
Your gentle questions, never marked with a smidge of harm and bad intentions. Your sole presence reminded him of peace and whatever was good out in the galaxy, and because you always had goodness to spare.
That had been what drew Bacara to you. If not because of that one joint mission in the Outer Rim where you and your Jedi Master had been sent out, he'd never met you. He'd never go down there as your squad’s escort, because the Outer Rim is his territory. He'd never share a ship and don clever disguises in the streets in one of those planets with you and he'd never see how pleasant and radiant and bright you were – the very oppositional things he was often associated with. He’d never work close with you – so close, that one of those moments led to a soft, innocent, and curious meeting of the lips.
And that led to proper communications afterward. Whatever sparks lit within both of you had been let roam wild and free and burn even brighter. You rarely met him in person – he almost never came down to Coruscant. Outer Rim is his home aboard his venator, the Republic barricades untouched even by other battalions in the army. But when he did, you always greeted him with that radiant smile he'd grown to be fond of so much. One smile, and love had blossomed inside his chest so easily. He'd wished the war would end quicker and just as easily, but alas, in the midst of such heat, it was a fool's hope.
Remembering you'd asked him one of those harmless questions again, he turned to you at last and breathed in your presence again.
The way the sun had kissed your cheeks made him jealous. The golden sun had made you even more radiant, and beautiful. You were worth adoring. By him, especially. Either by poetic words that never for the life of him he'd utter out loud, or warm tight embraces, or kisses, or even in every graceful dance both of you commence beneath the covers… you'd been the sole object of his worship. Of his desire.
You were perfect. For his eyes. For him. To adore and to feast. For his… lowly and expendable self. You'd never seen those traits in him. You loved him as a man. Stern, pragmatic, frank. Unyielding, even to or against his own men. He'd do anything. But you understood. Sometimes you chastised him, sometimes it worked against his means. Anything that pleased you. Anything that would make that smile and ignite that glimmer in your eyes.
“No,” Bacara had found himself answering, an invisible sheet of gloom enveloping the tone of his answer, “Us clones weren't exactly created for that purpose. And you know this.”
“So you'll continue to serve?” you'd inquired once again, seemingly taken aback, with an unmistakable crease between your brows. He, too. It was obvious, he thought, and yet you still asked. “By the time the war's over, you'll stay in the corps?”
He'd nodded firmly, keeping his answer curt, “That’s how it's supposed to be, sir. Always.”
Your frown had dissipated, and your expression had softened as you sighed quietly through your nostrils. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to call me that?” you'd chastised him gently, the corner of your lips barely lifting, but the sight was sweet to him, still. “When it's just us?”
He couldn't help it. It was a habit. Both of you had been in this deep dark out of forbidden relationship, after all. Too deep, but no, never dark. You were his light. Always be.
And you looked just as radiant as you sat cross-legged on the rug spread out on the sand. This was your twelfth beach you both had come across in Spira. Spira, with her beautiful golden beaches. The last eleven shores hadn't failed to amaze you both as you'd sat back together to watch the sunset. Sometimes in each other's arms, sometimes in each own comfort – like this one. That’s what he appreciates about you; you never forced him to be physical in rare, hard-earned relaxing times like this. He was never… touchy, but you'd made him grow softer around you. Anything that would make him comfortable without stepping over his boundaries, you obliged, and it watered his fields that spell out his already abundant love for you.
You'd tilted your head at him. “That should be your answer?”
Bacara had glanced down at his splayed kama on the rug. “I don't think I could… see my future outside the Marines.” Behold his fumble; he'd never fumbled with his word. Only did, once in a while, in your presence. “After all, I'm the marshal commander,” he finished firmly.
He looked at you. You always had this little crease between your eyebrows and a slight upturn of the mouth when you were conflicted. But then, you blinked. He thought he was mistaken, but no. Your eyes, your glimmering eyes that he adored so much, were misty and shining with pooled tears. You looked like you were teetering on a narrow ledge that barely had any space to steady your feet on, and there were two different canyons beneath you that would be ready to swallow you whole and spit you back out to another life upon choosing.
“I’ve been thinking about leaving the Jedi Order after the war.”
You were still teetering.
The outrageous shock that overcame his countenance was apparent upon his battle-hardened features. But still, it was you. He would never, for the short life of him, raise his voice at you. Not because you were vulnerable, but he'd feared the light you radiated brightly would go out upon his slightest use of hostility that he usually and casually blasts upon his men.
“What the hell's gotten into you?” had been what he managed to shove out of his throat.
“Something got me thinking lately,” you'd answered solemnly as you fiddled with the hem of your tunic. Not to avoid his persistent glare, but to slip yourself into a pocket of momentary peace and steadiness as you'd calmly elaborated, “We’re allowed to express our love but not allowed to form attachments. Then I look back into the concept of marriage, it's both. Somewhat. You're bound to the one you love, and they're bound to you, too. Roughly, explicitly; that is attachment. Would you agree?”
Bacara had been listening to you all along, and took your words to his understanding. He'd never looked deep into marriage because that wasn't what he was created for, so he'd found himself nodding, although subtly, and thoughtfully, indulging you. “My general is involved in a polygamous marriage.”
“To save his species. That's something a Jedi Order would stamp their approval on, and they did,” you'd rebutted gently, “But for merely spending the rest of your life to just love and cherish one person…” you shook your head, “Apparently it's attachment in Master Yoda's books.”
“Because you're supposed to love every other living thing that breathes too and not particularly just one person?”
“Precisely.”
There was a slight swell in his chest as you smiled at his brilliance to catch on quick, but given the initial topic that carries this conversation thus far, he swiftly quenched it down. He caught on, of course. You were talking about him. About both of you. About your forbidden relationship that had been going for a while now, and now you wanted something from him that he couldn't give.
Because he was bound to his duty, and you to your celibacy oaths. Bound by the Jedi Order made you radiate this much light, and he very selfishly didn't want, and never would desire, that light to be flicked out. It would leave him in the dark. Your light breathed so much life into him. Without it, it would leave him lost, afraid, petrified, indecisive, lifeless.
“Don’t.” Bacara had looked at you warningly. But deep down, his heart felt heavy in his chest and he felt like grieving. Loss, already. “The Jedi Order is all you've known. It's your family.”
“But–”
“We can just… be like this,” he'd interrupted you, barely hearing you as he'd gone on, letting caution and his sternness creep into his words, “Stay low. Don't attract attention. No PDA. You, in the Order. I, in the Marines, without even the slightest intention to desert.” Because how dare he abandon his duty? Sure, you were his duty as well and yet… certainly you knew, and you'd made sure, that the life of many must take precedence.
“But if you still wish to step back, either because you don't care about your no-attachment teaching bullshit or the fact that I can't give you what you want, I'll respect your decision.”
And with that he at last let his fear – to be abandoned for the sake of duty and solitary peace – overtaking his words. So the man who loved fiercely within him steadied his feet, fixed his stance, imaginary tears dried and wiped away from his tawny cheeks, and uttered his prepared sacrifices to the scenario of whatever divines that reside and swim in the cosmos.
“You're a fool for even thinking about that, Cara.”
He recalls your slight broken smile when you uttered that to him. Golden sunlight. Breeze upon your cheeks that blew your stray tresses of hair into a lazy sway among the brushing air of nature. All those heavenly images of you, and yet… tears had remained pooling and gathering in your waterline, your irises reflecting spectrum colors, shining everything paradisiacal and everything not.
“And you're not?” he'd argued, his expression was fierce at that time, as he fought for your light to stay, too. “You're leaving your– that's practically your family. That’s the whole life you've ever known!”
“I am willing to leave the Order for my own peace and solitude.” You were certain now. The doubt had scurried away from your quivering tone and your avoidant gaze. And you had looked up at him, your eyes sang and intoned your love symphony as you'd uttered, “And by far I've only found it… in moments like this. With you.”
You slid closer to his person, the words tumbling off your sweet, sweet lips were fire that burns and melts and sends his sky-high frozen cliffs of ice fractured and tumbling. Your glimmering eyes where your steadfast tears nested pierce and bored deeply into his very soul, his core where the man who loved fiercely resided inside him – the same man who welcomed you, your tenderness, and your love, the one who deemed you equal to him and his values and qualities.
“I just feel…” You looked down momentarily, your heart offered openly and had been in the palm of your hands as you confessed fully with its wholeness, “If only I could stop being prim and proper, being the light to someone else I wouldn't pass by or ever think about twice… I just want to be the light to the one I constantly think about.”
Him.
You. You were his light. And you desired to be his light. In the dark, whenever he closed his eyes and thought about you. In the dark, when you both were bare and entangled with one another. In the dark, in the very bleakness of his missions in the deathly arena of his unit. You desired to be his light, just so he wouldn't walk alone in the dark, in fear.
And you were never afraid to touch him, to remind him that to place a loving caress of tenderness upon hardened features such as his was never impossible. In the momentary haziness of his mind trying to process it all, the longing in his limbs to just hold you spoke louder than his need of personal space. And there, in your twelfth beach, Bacara silently poured all his love and desire for you; coaxing you into his lap, warm strong hands gripping your thighs as he did and settled them on your back, his fingers that were bare of gloves clinging onto your modest tunic. Missing your warmth and scent only urged him to bury his face deep into your shoulder, his nose nuzzling the exposed skin of your neck.
“Only if you would allow me to have you for the rest of my life.”
All that, and you still gave him a choice.
“Because I love you, Bacara.”
His words failed him that day. He soothed your quivering lips with his own, with every give and take of breaths, and with every trade and caress of skin that led him to shade off his armor and your fabric layers. Both of you, laying bare under the setting sun in your twelfth beach in Spira, breathing each other's desire for each other, taking what the other had to give, and giving what the other had to take. All your love, all your want, all your wishes for the future.
The future that is now bleak and fractured and broken and bleeds nothing but all the cruelty and unfairness the galaxy has to offer.
He'd landed first with his starfighter on your thirteenth beach. Fifty or so regulations broken, yet worth the risk every damn time. Worth to see you, to see your radiant smile as you would run over to him and be engulfed by his strong arms.
This time would be different. It would no longer be mere idle conversations for the comfort of the heart. It would be a trade of vows – he decided, per Mandalorian customs. His root. The culture that had been blatantly and shamelessly taught by his trainers within the cages of pristine white walls of Kamino. That way you would be his, and he would be yours – one when together, and one when apart.
Within the depths of his ship, Bacara waited. For you. With you, his patience never seemed to run out. But the longer the time stretched that the sun had begun to set and had been inches away from kissing the horizon where the sky met the sea, anxiousness crept into his being. The depths of his icy mountains formed deep dark crevasses and it left him feeling unwhole. Emptiness settled into his stomach and taught to never ignore his gut instincts as a soldier, he overthrew everything to reach for and put his communicator into good use.
He couldn't reach you. Yet. Because he didn't know where you were. You could've been in hyperspace heading home as you'd reported to him a while ago. But before he could patch himself through with one of his battalion commanders he entrusted his situation with, said commander had reached out to him first.
“Commander Bacara, sir.”
His heart thundered inside his chest. “News. Now.”
“I’ve caught up with my contact in the 104th, sir,” the other man had said, “The shuttle en route to Coruscant was attacked by a band of pirates who allied with the Separatists. Their Jedi Commander was executed. No one else on board is left alive.”
And just like that, someone had left the room and flicked the lights off.
Now, he's left in the dark. Alone. Cold. Claws had sprouted out from the shadowy, bleakest corners of the underworld and tried to drag him under. Shadows or light, space or soil, rock or water. Anything. Anywhere. To see you. To see your light. To see you take his hand and guide the path ahead together.
“I’ll… leave you to it, sir. My deep condolences,” his commander had said again. Not that Bacara heard him, nor acknowledged him. “Over and out.”
And where are you now?
Lying on the durasteel floors of your ship, cold and unmoving – breathless, lifeless, lightless – with your heart no longer beating? How did you die? A blaster bolt, point blank, through the chest? The sight of you which he feasts upon the way you move and dance and glide above him? Through the head? Between the eyes, where he caught your little crease that formed a frown upon his relentless means? Through the neck? Under your jaw, where he placed his lips as he once made love to you?
In the wind? Under the white sunlight where the soft breeze of Spira always seemed to love you as you, too, were strong with the Force.
In the waters? Swimming with its rich aquatic life and dancing along with the currents that take you wherever you go?
Or beyond the horizon with the golden setting sun?
Bacara mulls long into the far ocean, with time being ever so kindly to slow yet being so cruel to never did when he spent time here with you. And now there is no you. You fell. To the place he can't follow.
Actually he can.
But you were so pure, you glowed with so much light whereas he is just a cold and calculating man. Surely you'd reside in the brightest of stars and in the warmest of light, placed so high up – just so you wouldn't fall to the deepest pit full of faults to the brim, the darkest of dungeons, the coldest of crevasses.
Even if he dies, he is certain he will never see you again.
And with that revelation the whole world comes crashing down upon him.
But then he remembers he never let your tears flow that last time. You held it in. You were so, so strong with your desire for freedom. So strong with your intention to leave your entire life built upon sacred teachings and words of peace for him. So strong with your love to spend your entire life with him.
Had you not been taken away from him.
Such suddenness. Such pain.
His tears now only leave tracks upon his cheeks as he gazes out into the horizon again, into the golden sun, where he's certain that you now reside at peace – the very thing you'd always desired.
“Mhi solus dar'tome, ner nau.”
Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose
A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided)
Summary: You just can't miss his supposed birthday.
Rating: General
Tags: fluff, birthday gifts, full blown wholesomeness, reader is kenobi's padawan and commander in the 212th, reader is besties with cody (who wouldn't wanna?)
Word Count: 854
A/N: Ashamed to admit I nearly miss Cody Day!!! 2-2-24 wasn’t the time I've existed on this side of Tumblr yet, so please have this special anniversary drabble from me!
"Codyyyyy!" you giggle as you run into him in one of many corridors of the Negotiator, "Happy birthday!"
"Hnn," the 212th Marshal Commander drawls helplessly as you smoosh his cheeks together. You flash your teeth at him before letting go and watch his baffled expression with amusement. "But... I don't have birthdays, sir."
You snort. "Oh, don't be silly," you wave at him, and cheerfully continue, practically throwing your arms out, "You do! Second day of Kelona! Which is today!"
Cody blinks at you.
"Did you just take the first two of my serial numbers and make it up as my birth date and month?"
Being his commanding officer's padawan, watching your face fall into a mixture of sadness, disappointment, and embarrassment strikes fear in him – it's as if he's responsible for your reactions, too. You're beloved by the 212th. Was he being too hard on you, even if he meant it slightly as a joke?
"What, you don't do that?" You can feel your cheeks fluster. "Boil told me all of you do."
As if cued, the devil marches around the intersection with a cone-shaped pink party hat on top of his head, the elastic band pressing under his chin. "Sir," Boil nods in your direction with an impressive amount of seriousness, "Have a good one."
Raising a toast with what you imagine is some citrus juice, Waxer follows behind him with the identical hat, but in cyan. "Happy birthday, Commander."
You grin widely at their act, pleased with their instigation and just recent participation. Cody stares on until they disappear from view, dumbfounded, probably open-mouthed and frowning which you can't see from your angle.
Your mirthful giggle returns his attention back to you, his expression softens.
"Not me. But... Thank you," Cody says almost sheepishly. His hand flies to the back of his neck, and you know you had him. Still with his respectful yet casual tone, he meets your gaze with a small, appreciative smile. "I'm aware how precious birthdays are for natborns. Really appreciate your notion to treat me as such, Commander."
"Then you know how we natborns celebrate our birthdays – with presents!"
"Yeah," he nods absentmindedly, but snaps his attention back to you yet again in alarm, "Wait, don't tell me–"
"Ta-da!" You not so gently shove your wrapped gift bundle into his chest. "Open it! It's from me."
Anticipation bubbles in your chest as you thoroughly watch his expression. His subtle glance at you that knows you're not taking it back, his gloved hands gingerly pulling the neat ribbon and peeling the flimsi wraps with swirly orange pattern, and his widened eyes in full blown wonder and shock as he lifts your gift to view.
You smile fondly. "I love that you have this sunburst design so I embroidered it there." You subtly point to the intricate design of your handmade craft; embroidered sunburst pattern on a plain white sweatshirt that matches the one on his armor involving a massive spread of orange tones. "I would've knitted the entire thing from scratch had I have more time, but I guess I'm used to improvisation."
"Well, uh, hope you love it, Cody," you decide nearly hesitantly, but you shrug it away, already moving to the other direction. "That's all for now. See you again in briefing!"
Cody is stunned, rubbing the pad of his thumb tenderly over the beautiful embroidery. You hope he would wear it outside demanding military duties – on a casual day out with his brothers or even to his sleep in his cot. His lack of response almost saddens you, but you know you need to give some time to someone who's never been gifted before.
You only make about five steps until he calls back at you, "Wait, sir!" You turn around, the same giddy smile on your face, and watch his eyebrows pull into a soft frown. "Do I, uh, wanna know what that means?"
"You think we'd go through your birthday without throwing a party?" You smugly place your hands on your hips. "And at Master Kenobi's behest! So that means a direct order from your superior officer!"
You skip away again, butterflies swarming your insides in fond warmth of friendship, but then you pause when you hear Cody's unmistakably hurried steps.
"Commander, wait!"
Cody skids into a halt in front of you, nearly running into you in the same manner you did to him. His gift from you still clutched in his hand, your breath huffed out of your lungs with a force as Cody pulls you into his chest and buries his face into your shoulder.
"Thank you." His quiet voice sounds suspiciously hoarse and wet in your ear. "I... I can't say it enough. This means a lot. To me."
Smiling tearfully yourself, you wind your arms fully around him and press both of your bodies closer for its warmth. "You're the very best Marshal Commander we could've asked for," you whisper to his ears only – in admiration of the qualities he stashes for himself as a man. You smile and bury your face into his shoulder. "Happy birthday, Cody."
Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose
A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided)
It took 20 days for Tumblr to finally reply and literally 1 night to get this restored (it was flagged by their anti-spam control)
NOW
Now I know that I've said this one would be inactive once it's restored but my other blogs including @manilovewater and @orangez3stt are banned for no reason as usual 🙃 so I'm migrating to this one for now until they get to that
Attention, all troopers. Welcome to Delta Squad Week! This is Clone Advisor 01/425, and I've been trusted by the Grand Army of the Republic to host this event where appreciate the achievements of Delta Squad. Not only that, this year we are commemorating the 20th anniversary of the video game Republic Commando.
This event will run across the first seven days of June 2025. Participants (creators and enjoyers) are encouraged to contribute by creating from daily optional prompts and by reblogging any existing post about Delta Squad.
Δ Prompt List will be dropped on April 1, 2025
Δ Upload/Reblog Period will run on June 1-7, 2025
Δ Event Debriefing starts from June 15, 2025
More briefings on daily prompts, event features, and rules will be delivered soon straight from command, which means this post will be updated with corresponding links. It is advised to turn on the notifications should you want to keep yourself updated.
Should there be any question, don't hesitate to send an inquiry to my comm channel. Good luck and enjoy the event, troopers! Advisor out.
Tagging for visibility @swfandomevents @clonefandomevents @fandomweeks
These are really precious 🥹🥹🥹🥹 the boyzzz aughhhh they're gonna be the death of me 😭 Sev being a true psycho for doodling dead bug in my our couple? polaroid 😭😭 Scorch ugh baby you're 🤏🏼 FIXER TOO PRETTY FOR THIS WORLD and bOSS!!! Boss you absolute buir 😭💓💓
LOVING THE SCAR PLACEMENT. AND HAIR. AND EXPRESSIONS. BEST BDAY PRESENT SO FAR WJHSJSKDHD 🥹🥹🥹🥹 love you to bits vod 😭😭💛💛
Prompt: Sneaking out to get ice cream at 2 AM
Summary: Do exiting game night with the boys early and getting teased for it worth accompanying you to get late night snacks? Yes, Cody thinks it's worth it.
Tags: modern au, roommate au, reader is a little silly, codyyyyy, comfort, fluff, late nite Korean convenience store run just to get those damn good munchies, command batch n frens cameo, no use of y/n
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: *me looking at prompt after finishing up* *sigh* Okay I forgot sneaking out means sneaking out. My bad! But I hope this still counts. Dunno why there's a running theme with Cody and ‘why are you still awake’ in my writings, but all in all, the marshcom cares about you 🧡🥭 Enjoy this one! Expect more x readers for the coming couple of weeks 💞
Event Masterpost | Read on AO3 | divider by me
“Codyyyyy…”
Cody grunts, barely looking up at you as he's fixated on yet another late FPS match. Wolffe and Fox couldn't sleep either. Summer is sweltering and tomorrow's Saturday. Both men, a fire rescue and a SWAT officer respectively, share Cody's social anthropology master's degree boring ass in the misery.
You push your head further into his gaming room. Or more like, his bedroom. You both share an apartment in this part of town, after all. “Wanna get ice cream?”
You wait. Whatever confrontation shown on his double PC screen seems too intense for him to actually get an answer out to you. In the end, you just trudge your way in and sit on his bed, leaning against your knee with your chin on your hand, silently watching his endeavor.
Not long after the final score and battle stat flashes on his screens, and you can't hold your smile too as Cody leans back into his seat, grinning, his shoulders relaxing. “Nice job boys, gotta go. I'll be on Biscord,” he says into the mic of his headphone, shutting off the program and the ‘puter altogether before spinning his chair to you dramatically. He stills, his face frowns as if judging you. “It's heckin’ two in the morning, Peanut.”
“Yeah, but I really wanna go down to that 24-hour convenience store and get one of those tuna mayo onigiri too,” you huff. Cody watches your lips split into a bright smile, and your tone suddenly sounding excited. “You wanna? If you don't I'll go by myself anyway.”
Oh you really wanna get that onigiri, huh. It's your favorite, he knows. You eat at least two every week.
He lets out a deep sigh, patting his gaming table for his wallet. “Not gonna let you go alone.” He playfully shoves you down onto his bed so he can reach across your body to retrieve his hoodie. Pausing as he scrutinizes you – his hand is still on your shoulder for him to put his entire weight on, that bastard – Cody lifts a single eyebrow. “It's 2 AM, peanut. Why are you even up?”
You kick him off you. “It's summer!” you whine, “It's hooottt as hell, I can't frickin’ sleep!”
“Fine fine, come on. I can't stand you whining.”
You purposefully step on his sock-clad foot and dash your way out of his room before he can grab you.
Cody pants his way out of the door, grinning briefly at your antics. You shout something about changing so he waits for you near the front door, pulling his phone out after slipping into his sliders.
awoo biatch
Yo @.shriek hawk eyes u up
Galactic contention 2 game me n fox boy
honora-bly
Why not me I'm up
WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY
↳ Replying to honora-bly: Yea sure
@.body of water @.dawgggg @.thornification @.re-thire-ded @.pebbles @.wowzer @.shriek hawk eyes
awoo biatch
↳ Replying to honora-bly: Cuz u at yo girl's
honora-bly
↳ Replying to awoo biatch: Not 2nite
sunshine n back pain
Game who up @.boil for 5 mins @.waxing @.thai laughter @.echoOoOoOoO @.responsible sister @.bazooka @.distress call
Nvm @.shriek hawk eyes sleeps at 8
shriek hawk eyes
↳ Replying to sunshine n back pain: Well now I'm not
WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY
Well come ON in brother
@.sunshine n back pain wyd
sunshine n back pain
↳ Replying to WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY: Out, roomie wanna go get snacks
shriek hawk eyes
↳ Replying to sunshine n back pain: Aww
honora-bly
↳ Replying to sunshine n back pain: Aww
thai laughter
↳ Replying to sunshine n back pain: Aww
responsible sister
↳ Replying to sunshine n back pain: Aww
awoo biatch
@.thai laughter @.responsible sister Get in here
responsible sister
↳ Replying to @.awoo biatch: Yessirrrrrr
Cody sighs and locks his phone. Despite the constant hazing from the others, his chest warms especially at the mention of you. You're just this person who'd been seeking a roommate to share the rent, and as a fellow student himself, he thinks it's agreeable. Especially since you're a pretty chill person. You're nice, easy to get along with, and you've been growing clingy. His fault, because he lets you, and it's also his fault too that he's beginning to feel a little something more towards you.
“Ready!” you cheerfully stumble your way out of your room with– wait.
His head bobs as he looks at you up and down. “Is that my shirt?”
You, in your shorts and his white t-shirt with this big sunburst print on the front which ends near your thighs, roll your eyes as you slip into your sneakers. “You just have tons of them.”
“You gone long in your room and you chose my shirt?”
“I'm good with this,” you shrug, grinning and punching his bicep playfully, “You good?”
Not letting out a vocal response, Cody purses his lips and nods – the gestures are to hide his fluttering stomach. Why you haven't been around him wearing his clothes, he never knows, but you tonight becomes such a treat for his eyes.
You unlock and get the door open. Warm air of the corridor hits Cody in the face but before you get to fully step out, you look at him up and down, frowning. “You sure you gonna wear that?” You cock your chin at his burnt orange hoodie.
“I'm good,” Cody shrugs, swerving around you and stepping out into the corridor first, with the intention to catch the elevator.
“Yeah,” you muse as you lock the door, a sly grin splitting your lips, “When you're complaining about how warm it is, I'm gonna throw I told you so in your face.”
The ride down and the walk out is a bit quiet. Traffic is already sparse at this time of night, only one or two taxi cabs driving by, either empty of passengers or the light turned off. The city smells like concrete due to hours baked in the summer sun. Most lights in the buildings they pass by are turned off – residents asleep, or office buildings closed. Places of entertainment are still buzzing with slow, relaxed activity and occasional chatter. Sometimes with a strum of guitar that carries a light tune into the warm night.
So he thinks. It gets warmer under his hoodie that he resorts to tugging it off, leaving him in just his black t-shirt and of course it makes any difference only just slightly.
“Toldja, Codes.”
He flicks your forehead and dashes forward into a run, you chasing after him with a shout.
The convenience store is not that far. Just a block away. Even though there's no car passing by, Cody still has his hand around your arm when both of you cross the road – out of habit. You throw him a smile in thanks once you reach the other side, and Cody feels his stomach fluttering again.
Damn feelings but it's just… as corny as it sounds, you make his day brighter. Among his study and part-time work and his game nights (he's got an awfully excellent time management skill alright), coming home to you working on your homework with some streamed drama whatsit turned on as background noise just feels… right. Even when he's had stayovers with the usual guys, it somehow lacks something – you.
You, who coos your way as soon as you enter the bright tosca green and pink store and shuffle childishly with arms out, reaching for the shelves where they display their ready-to-eat’s. Late night warm summer air vanishes the moment he's trapped inside the air-conditioned establishment. Cody catches a glimpse of you picking through gummies before grabbing himself a piece of whole baked sweet potato, still warm.
Yeah that's his favorite. Don't judge him, please.
By the time you reach the register along with the ice cream as well, of course, you fight on payment.
“Codes, I got it–”
“No you don't. Here, I'll–”
“NO!” you try to stiff-arm him, but his home workout routines proves your attempts to be futile.
“Yes. Now shut up and grab seats.”
You groan, feeling bad because goddamn Cody has paid for your late night snack runs almost all the heckin' time.
“You're welcome.”
You give him a small smile, the most grateful you can muster. “Thank you, Cody.”
Cody draws a sharp breath at how your eyelashes bat against your cheeks, and the way the store's accent lighting reflects on your skin and highlights your features – your happiness. Over something simple. Late night snacks run like this with him, enjoying them together in the seating area on top of sturdy high stools.
Deep down, you enjoy spending time with him, too. Being roommates with someone as charming and heartthrob as Cody is fun and never boring, let alone stressful. Sometimes he just lies down on the couch reading reference articles and falls asleep, and you remain awake until 3 in the morning studying yourself without even knowing he's fallen asleep. It's all about the comfort you share, and how you hold his presence dear to your heart.
“You're so weird.” Cody eyes you dumping mango gummies into your vanilla ice cream cup, already laden with rich yet artificial mango sauce. He tips his chin at your poor onigiri, sitting unattended by your elbow. “Dessert’s always last.”
“Oh, don't you judge me, Cody,” you sass, rolling your eyes. “First I just want the ice cre– Hey!” you exclaim as he dips a torn piece of his sweet potato into your ice cream cup. You feign a pout and frown. “You're ruining the ice cream taste!”
Cody merely smirks at you, settling to himself sitting at your right. As you scoop a bite of your ice cream, you can't help but stare at his curved scar along his right temple, to which he absolutely has no problem about. He'd even tease you about it when you asked, said one of his bros threw a beer bottle at him. You still don't know the story behind it though.
Mid slurp of his iced blue lemon drink, he turns to you, and does a double take. “Ey, Peanut.” With his free hand, he gestures to the top of his lip, right on his Cupid's bow. “Sauce.”
“Oh,” you breathe, cringing inwardly on how ridiculous it'd look, and wipe on the spot he pointed. Cody watches you amusedly, and gestures slightly to his left – the other side. Is it me just being so fricking dumb or did he do it on purpose? You huff, asking, “Done?”
No, Cody wants to say. Some of it's still smeared along the corner of your lips. Just how silly can you be?
You watch him scoot his chair closer, your gaze barely meets his as he suddenly grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger and closes the distance between you. The next second, you feel his lips brushing against your skin – against the spot that you actually did miss. Frozen in your place in shock and your heart thumping wildly against your chest, you swear you can feel the tip of his tongue, timidly, licking the mango sauce off the corner of your lips.
Cody lets out a breath – his boldness falters and his body pulls itself away from you. His forehead is barely brushing against yours. Your throat closes in, already missing and asking more of his touch.
“Is it…” you whisper, “Is it still there?”
No, he wants to say. You notice how his warm amber brown eyes, sparking just now and you gasp in awe as if you're seeing them for the first time ever, flicker from your eyes down to your lips.
“Yeah,” tumbles off his lips in a breathy whisper, and Cody leans in again, this time zeroing into your lips and hitting bullseye. Your eyes flutter close as you finally feel the warmth of his lips against yours. Yours are cold from the ice cream, and Cody's breath shudders against you at the surprising temperature.
The kiss was brief, yet delicate. It was just a peck and nothing more, but you want more, so you lean in a bit further to press your lips against his own. Cody's hand under your chin goes to caress your jaw, his lips part to capture your soft, soft bottom lip laden with sugar and cream and vanilla and mango. A sigh escapes your lips at the notion that easily takes your breath away as well, and you both finally, finally pull away.
The world is still spinning, you both are still in your usual 24 hour convenience store, sitting and eating ice cream and sweet potato and… and kissing.
“Wow,” you breathe, your heart fluttering at the close proximity still where you finally open your eyes and allow yourself to see the rich earthy colors in his eyes. “That was…”
“Something,” Cody finished for you, his voice scratchy against his throat. He finally leans away from you and reaches for his drink, slurping almost noisily that makes you wonder how he can't even get a brain freeze from that.
You smile dreamily, noticing how stiff his neck is from nervousness. You can only hope it's not regret. “Relax,” you pat his hand that had landed on your lap a while ago, and tenderly wrap your fingers around his that are bigger. “It's… okay. And nice.”
“Yeah?” Cody asks you, unsure, his eyes flitting back to yours.
Though, his lips are slowly pulling into a smile – one much softer than you've ever seen before. You watch him scooping your ice cream awkwardly with one hand, equally as awkward with his eventual attempt to get one mango gummy on top.
“Yeah,” you answer, opening your mouth to receive the scoop from him. It has everything in it – the sauce included, and it makes you melt again inside.
Cody drops the spoon into the cup and shifts his body towards you. His head tilts adorably, trimmed dark hair where you’re kind of eager to run your fingers through. His lips part to pass you a question, “You… like that?”
“I like that,” you answer, thumb brushing across his knuckles. Cody, in return, squeezes your hand. His face lights up as you can't help the grin in your lips. “More, please,” you giggle airily, leaning forward, “If you don't mind.”
A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided ⬆️)
Summary: You're dead exhausted after a family event. Luckily your roommate Fives is a domestic life kinda guy in training.
Rating: Teen and Up - 16+ for (casual) sex related talks
Tags: roommate au, platonic relationship, brief talk about sex, quality time, silly roommate dynamics, this one is less feely and immersive from usual bcs i too am exhausted irl, the war is over and everything's good but the details are vague au
Word Count: 2.1k
A/N: Ah a surprise x reader drop! Less immersive this time, more like for self indulgence purposes. I didn't quadruple check this, but enjoy all the same you guys. Guess who just got home from a Lunar New Year gathering and whipped up a self indulgence platonic fic instead of working on another priority WIP and/or sleeping? Also I wrote this half awake.
Inspired by @/hellfiresky's Fox platonic fic (vod it's crazy good I'm obsessed).
divider by me
Fives takes his headphone off – the upbeat music fading away and still ringing through the cushions thanks to its blatantly loud volume – and that's when he catches the shower running.
Oh good, you're home. You were gone for an annual family gathering today, leaving him alone to look after your apartment and its shared spaces. It's nearing midnight, and he was just getting worried if you were kidnapped on the way home or something.
As your roommate, of course he cares. And that he's not a mean person too.
That's what you said in your first meeting with the ARC trooper. It was in one of the clone friendly places below the surface – a Corellian buckwheat noodle shop whose owner is a pro-clone and gives 70% off for clones – that you happened to haunt as well. He went in with his brothers, got a few spiked soda themselves, and you both met.
“What, you think I look so big and mean with all these pauldrons and extra plates?” he joked, flexing his already beefy arms at you.
You laughed heartily. “Kinda. But I don't think you're mean, Lieutenant.”
That was during the War. And now it's over. The Separatists lost, the former Chancellor was a Sith lord (apparently that means evil Jedi somewhat), and the political movement in the Senate hurriedly circled around oh no there are 6 millions excess of these copy paste expendable dudes because the war is over they're jobless whatever shall we do and of course of course, some rallied to fight for their rights.
And honestly, you're happy for the outcome too.
You've grown soft for these clones, especially Fives and his band of brothers. Thanks to them you're up to date with news around the Grand Army of the Republic. It makes you a little prouder that you're all knowing with all these restricted tea.
The Senate is still working on the bills part by part. The troops get nice things that you can't count but you're grateful enough, but one thing you know is that they aren't allowed to purchase or own their own dwelling under their name yet. So you offer your interest in a roommate to share the rent. Fives is giddy to take it. And with their limited stipend, you volunteer to take on the larger cut.
Fives strides out of his room, clad in hoodie, shorts and socks, and raps on the refresher door.
“Yeah hi,” you reply from the inside as you're lathering your body up with soap. Fives' body wash (a mid branded one just so he's happy for not using GAR bar soap) is just next to yours. “What is it?”
“Need to number one,” Fives says plainly.
“You're kidding me,” you deadpan, slumping, almost wanting to shout and just do it over the sink in the kitchen.
“Yeah I'm kidding.” His mouth splits into his signature shit eating grin. “It's so late though. You want anything?”
You're always touched at the way he always asks about you. He just knows you're tired. He probably can hear how tired you are from behind the door.
But you're smiling, eager to know as you ask back, “Ya making something?”
“I dunno,” he replies, and you hear a little scratching as if he's rubbing the back of his head to release his sheer awkwardness. “Probably not. But offer still stands. You want anything?”
You lift an eyebrow as you think. “I dunno. Water I guess?”
“Hot chocolate?” he offers instead.
You reel your head back slightly at the better suggestion. “Yeah actually that sounds good.”
“Okay.”
Then he's gone.
By the time you complete your shower and put your clothes on (in a similar fashion to Fives' hoodie shorts socks combo because the Coruscanti artificial weather's a bit chilly lately), Fives is already pouring the hot chocolate into two mugs.
“Nice,” you grin, “If you didn't make one for yourself I'm turning on the stove again.”
Fives scoffs, slamming into your shoulder playfully on his way to the sink. “Bold of you to assume I'm doin’ that.” You watch him swirl some water in the used pot. He turns to you again, leaning back against the counter this time. “So? Is the family gathering shit this year?”
You roll your eyes at his pleased and hopeful grin. Ass. “To be honest it's less festive than usual – I have no idea why. Maybe because it's a little later than usual because you just don't expect the annual gathering to start at 1500, do you?’
“I don't have a family to hold an annual gathering with like you but I get your point.”
“Procrastinating, am I right?” you sigh, and your glance still finds Fives listening to you with a surprising amount of attention. A complaint jumps out of your mouth as you continue, a tinge of sadness latches onto your tone, “And they didn't clear out the table for sabacc. I prepped chips for nothing.”
“Aw, poor you,” Fives coos, walking over to your spot, “So you were… what, just talking?”
You sit at one of the high chairs. Fives moves the hot chocolate mugs over. “The house we're at got Spintendo Spwitch installed to the holoscreen. Played SpustDance the whole day, my muscles are all strained.”
Fives snorts as he watches you stretch your arms and roll your shoulders. “How many songs did you play?”
“I think ten or twelve.”
“Dude,” he looks at you, “You don't even dance.”
“Hey there were instructions.”
“I'm expecting high scores.”
“Oh you bet.”
Fives reaches to pat the top of your head in appreciation but you swat his arms away, the ache in your shoulders only worsening. “Ow, Fives you little shit–”
“Oh now you're blaming me.” Stars you just wanna flick that stupid number tattoo out of his skin.
You kick his thigh. He doesn't even flinch. It leaves you a little disappointed as you mumble your complaints into your hot chocolate.
Fives still reaches out to pat you. You don't stop him this time. As you're sipping your drink slowly, mug clutched with sweater paws, you meet his sincere amber brown gaze as you nod your head following his pats – repeatedly, appreciatively. Fives is a handsome guy. Anyone would be lucky to have him, but you're settling comfortably enough having him as a roommate. He helps around a lot.
“You want a massage or something?” he offers, proving your point straight in your face.
You raise your eyebrows.
“Not an expert, but I can relieve some of that tension?” His hand slides down to the back of your shoulders and tries to clutch it, and you feel kinda numb (it hurts everywhere). The frown between Fives' eyebrows has never been that deep so far within the week. “Stars, you're stiff.” He grins teasingly. “Your little gremlin nephews givin’ you trouble? You were really working on those high scores, weren't you? Come on.”
You wait until he turns around to move to the couch before you swat his butt.
“HEY!”
You jump off the chair and follows him to the living room couch with your mug (properly clutched with your fingers instead of your slippery sweater paws). “That massage. Better be good as an apology.”
“Psshh don't worry. It's gonna be good for all you know.” You can hear the smile, so energetic, spilling out of his mouth. He plops down on the couch and pats at his thighs, his gaze silently expectant of you to just follow.
You sprawl across his lap stomach down.
Fives clicks his tongue annoyingly. “Not like that you idiot.”
His beefy thighs meet your exhaling breath before you bite down, drawing a very unmanly surprised yelp out of the ARC.
You look up at him seriously as you complain, “From your position it's not even how those people do it!”
Fives rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Fiiineee you're right.”
He very easily lifts you off his lap before he twists his body around and lands on the rug next to the couch on his knees. “Where do you want me?”
“Backside,” you mumble into the soft cushions of your couch, “Kidding. My arm.”
“I mean I wouldn't refuse.”
You successfully shove a hand into his face and with your palm pressed ingloriously against his lips, his mouth opens and his tongue sweeps across your hand.
“EW GROSS!” you squeal, retracting your hand as if you're touching a burning hot pan. As the little shit throws his head back in satisfied laughter, you can't hold your stupid smile either. You wipe your hand on his blue hoodie. “And you're disgusting.”
Fives lets loose the last of his chuckle as he starts to take your arm, his thumbs pressing and gliding against your tense muscles.
“Oh okay that does feel good,” you mutter as you sink deeper into the couch. Though your position on the couch is shit and probably giving him a little hard time on the angle of approach, plus the pressure is muffled by your hoodie, it still feels nice all the same. You're feeling spoiled and man isn't that just good after an exhausting day acting not being an ass.
“You definitely overdid your SpustDance game today,” complains your roommate again. “If this doesn't work you’ll need a huge orgasm to–” he pats your stiff shoulder “–loosen all these.”
You don't open your eyes. Harmless sex jokes are regulars in your shared space. “Not feeling it this week.”
“Really?” He's surprised. “You're a weirdo.”
“Hey if y'all wanna hit me, do it a week after my period. Promise I'll go feral.”
He scoffs under his breath. “Bet, roomie. Bet.”
It's just weird neither of you has made the move to be steamy. Fives has probably walked in on you changing a handful of times, but he treats it as casually as backing away and muttering sorry loud enough for you to hear. You appreciate that, and you appreciate and bask in the whole lot of friendly comfort he seems to exude all around him. He's one of those disciplined and respected men in the army (you're surprised considering how much of a little shit he is in real life) and you keep up with that.
You cherish this friendship. So much that if he finally earns his rights to get his own place, you don't even want him to move out. Or that it'll take a long time for you to come around the fact. You don't mind his presence, and honestly you just hate how lonely your apartment's gonna be.
What you don't know is that he's feeling the same. Fives is forever grateful that you even wanted to take him in, when many other civilians don't, and he cherishes your friendship just as much, probably a pinch more. He does his shared chores out of duty, treating your apartment as not only merely shared space but his home.
Your presence grounds him in this new life. You guide him the domestic basics; grocery run, laundering his own clothes, cooking, and many others that are relatively new to his skill set list. Fives can't be grateful enough, he thinks, and you're just… there, helping him without expecting so much from him. That's all he needs.
And that he feels the need to just annoy you out of nowhere – out of his fondness and cuteness aggression, really – by climbing onto your back and just flop down on your body.
You wheeze. “KRIFF FIVES YOU'RE HEAVY– GEROFF–”
Fives smiles into your hoodie. “Nah I'm good.”
You relax your body after an attempted squirm to get him off. Oh he's not that heavy. It's actually nice. “Whatever,” you mumble into the couch, total exhaustion and sleep creeping into your now relaxed muscles.
“Yeah?” he asks aloud.
“Uh huh,” you sigh, “Okay bye night I'm dozing off.”
For once he doesn't even protest as if he's the one suffering. You wonder if he's comfy in this position too. “Sweet dreams, roomie,” he plays along, probably playing on his sleepy tone of voice too.
And you know that he's just gonna carry you to your bedroom later. Because he too is a gentleman like that.
Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky
A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided)
Dearest fellow GFFA brainrotters, especially those who still hold Boss, Fixer, Scorch, and Sev close to their hearts,
A little late to come to my attention, but the video game Republic Commando just had a 20-year anniversary on March 1st this year! With that said...
Δ How are we feeling about dedicating a week for Delta Squad?
Because better late than never! I'll be hosting this event in a new side blog across the first week of June (Sun 6/1 - Sat 6/7). There will be various (optional) prompts for you to create art, fics, mood/stim/gif boards, merch pics, cosplay pics, gaming shenanigans—all of the sorts are welcome! Also huge encouragement for 🫵🏼you🫵🏼 to reblog Delta stuff during said period!
Poll is below. If this check is in favor, the creation period will start as the poll ends—a week from now! Very generous yes, since we'll give you a chance to watch walkthroughs or even play the game itself first (and we insist) if you want!
Whaddya say, soldier?
YESSIR AS BOTH PARTICIPANT & ENJOYER
Roger that—only as an enjoyer
Respectfully no sir
Voting ended onMar 23, 2025
Please reblog for reach! Thank you for your vote and sharing!
Dearest fellow GFFA brainrotters, especially those who still hold Boss, Fixer, Scorch, and Sev close to their hearts,
A little late to come to my attention, but the video game Republic Commando just had a 20-year anniversary on March 1st this year! With that said...
Δ How are we feeling about dedicating a week for Delta Squad?
Because better late than never! I'll be hosting this event in a new side blog across the first week of June (Sun 6/1 - Sat 6/7). There will be various (optional) prompts for you to create art, fics, mood/stim/gif boards, merch pics, cosplay pics, gaming shenanigans—all of the sorts are welcome! Also huge encouragement for 🫵🏼you🫵🏼 to reblog Delta stuff during said period!
Poll is below. If this check is in favor, the creation period will start as the poll ends—a week from now! Very generous yes, since we'll give you a chance to watch walkthroughs or even play the game itself first (and we insist) if you want!
Whaddya say, soldier?
YESSIR AS BOTH PARTICIPANT & ENJOYER
Roger that—only as an enjoyer
Respectfully no sir
Voting ended onMar 23, 2025
Please reblog for reach! Thank you for your vote and sharing!
✧ Prompt: “If you steal my blanket one more time, I’m throwing you outside.”
✧ Summary: Delta cuddle pile! Scorch needs to be literally in touch with you at all times, Boss is a certified act of service guy, Fixer surprisingly isn't a grump when woken up, and Sev is an unconscious blanket hogger.
✧ Tags & Warnings: platonic, they just care about you a lot, platonic cuddles, eepy fic, vode behavior, that's it those are the tags, this is made for the entire 12 repcomm fans out there
✧ Word Count: 0.9k
✧ A/N: Delta brainrot is still on! At least just me. Prompt’s read ‘Any Delta Squad' and I went kriff it we go with the whole gang. I hope this is passable as an entry! And mainly because I wanna cuddle with all four of them. This girl can't choose just one. If you think regs are warm, wait till you become a commando pillow. Might be a little messy, but enjoy folks!
Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Delta Squad (in-header image)
divider by me -> Delta Squad helmet PNG's by @stars-n-spice
Every time Delta Squad hits your place to crash in, not only you're pleased to house them with warm cooked dinner along with banters and other sort of shenanigans, you always look for this; togetherness, wrapped in their safety and comfort, all five of you piled up in your huge king bed. Your body either buried or cuddled with the mountains of muscles and cloud nine body heat—a perfect occasion during winter.
And tonight, you wake up to an unpleasant tingle running down your legs, and the next thing you know, you're curling your freezing toes. Despite the room heater, the cold air of the frigid winter outside somehow creeps into your bedroom. Its sharpness strikes the soft nasal cavity of your nose in the most uncomfortable way. Too late to shove your face into the crook of your free elbow…
You sneeze.
It's funny how the pod brothers are all either light or moderate sleepers. The loud noise alerts them like a marching B1 droid infantry does, rousing them up as well with varied response.
Scorch grumbles into your hair, his bare arm over your neck, yet snuggling closer. You're sure he's asking you a question, but from both the drowsiness still heavily over him and yours just about half, you end up not catching anything and lightly lean into him instead.
Fixer, the lightest sleeper in the group, looks up at you where he lays his head on your stomach. “Cold?”
You manage an uh huh before Boss, just slightly behind you, shifts with a slight groan and rises. In the dampened bluish white glow of your night lamp, you can see his silhouette moving downwards. He touches your foot. “You're freezing,” says his accented voice in the dark. Then, you can feel his palms vigorously rubbing the pad of your foot in an attempt to generate heat.
Almost immediately, in given comfort, you purr against Scorch and are almost lulled into sleep again, but the fact that Boss is reaching you quite easily makes you all the more aware of the situation. More specifically, the lack of something. “Where's the blanket?” you whine.
A rustle among the silence almost marks the noise as guilt, but it's just Scorch raising his head up on the prompted scout duty. A moment later, he drives his knee into Sev's back, the latter grunting in annoyance against you.
“Ow,” rumbles Sev.
Scorch looks at you, his heel still digging into Sev's back. “This sha’buir is hogging your blanky.”
Sev's hand goes to his back to rub the spot. “Rude.”
You huff, kicking the man as best as you can without bothering Fixer because you don't wanna face a grumpy Fixer who's already a grump. “You’re rude,” you complain, making a grabby hand in the direction of the object of interest. “Sev gimme.”
No response. Fixer harshly jerks his elbow into Sev.
“Everyone's attacking me today for doing something in my sleep. Sure. Go ahead.”
“You're taking their blanket,” Boss chimes in, putting his authoritative voice to use.
Sev lets out a long groan before getting up to gather the blanket he'd been rolling himself in. From all you know Boss could've been freezing too despite the body heat. You lie in wait, your hand buried in Fixer's curls. Sev looks at you and his brother sourly. “Fixer's hogging the entire blanket.”
“This is my spot,” Fixer claims, his voice nearly muffled against your shirt.
You grunt, “It's big enough for all five of us. You four are depleting my riches thin for getting that blanket.”
Fixer tenses against you. Boss stops rubbing your feet. At their reactions, you feel a warm embarrassment coursing through you as you feel their frowns and surprised looks directed at you.
“That's just… a comment,” you say guiltily, trying to hide your face into the pillow where Boss was. “Didn't mean that in any other way.”
Scorch hugs you tighter, his mouth splitting into a lazy grin. “Good! Because this is a tradition that needs to keep going!”
Your embarrassment is quenched down instantly by this walking—more like half-awake—ball of sunshine. You grin, relishing your shared comfort that's always present during winter with the four Delta. “Tradition? The cuddles?”
“The blanket-hogging,” Sev deadpans, still clutching the blanket.
You glare at him. “If you steal my blanket one more time Sev, I’m throwing you outside.”
“Yeah,” Sev says again, low and deep, and you're certain he's throwing you a smirk. He looks down. “You know.” He pounds a fist on Fixer's back. The latter doesn't flinch. “A switch would be nice.”
Fixer presses his face against your stomach one more time before getting up. “Yeah. I need to lie on my back.”
“And I'll go in there,” Boss folds his arms, interrupting Sev mid-process to splay on top of you, glaring at the sniper. “Froze my shebs off no thanks to you, Sev.”
He huffs. “Fair.”
In the end, the boys arrange themselves in a different position. Scorch is by your side taking Sev's place, Fixer has his arm over your neck and shoulders, Boss on top of you under the blanket, and Sev on your other side, propping half of your body against him to keep you warm. And in fact, the boys are all always warm. Their naturally regulated body heat is a luxurious treat for you, especially during winter, moreover with the huge blanket now draping over all five of you fairly and delivering you into a resumed round of a Delta good night's sleep.
Taglist moved to comments.
A/N: Requests are closed for now! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can join the taglist as well to be tagged of future works.
