Fandom Stuff and Encouragement Things.

She/her, mid-20s, loves Clones, Destiny, etc

[sosleia]

Being Needy For You After a Mission

Includes; Wolffe, Cody, Rex, Fives, Fox & Bacara

Warnings; None really

Wolffe

Wolffe comes back from long deployments wound tight enough to snap, but the second he’s inside your apartment, the tension drains straight out of him. He doesn’t announce that he missed you. 

He just reaches for you immediately, broad hand settling at the back of your neck like he needs proof you’re real.

He’s quietly possessive about proximity. If you’re making caf, he’s leaning against the counter beside you, thigh pressed to yours. If you sit on the couch, he’s there within seconds, arm hooked around your waist.

Gets grumpy when you leave the room without warning. You’ll go to fold laundry, and suddenly, he’s in the doorway watching you with narrowed eyes like you personally offended him by moving six feet away.

Loves holding your hand absentmindedly. Thumb brushing your knuckles while he listens to you talk, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

After missions, he sleeps heavily, but only if he’s touching you somehow. One hand hooked under your shirt, your leg tangled with his.

The softer he feels, the clingier he gets. Pressing his forehead to your shoulder while you cook. Kissing your wrist absentmindedly. Letting out these rough little sighs when you scratch lightly at the back of his scalp.

There’s something unfairly attractive about how large and intimidating he is compared to how needy he becomes in private. Especially when he pins you gently against the kitchen counter just to kiss you slow and unhurried because “it’s been too long.”

Secretly likes it when you fuss over him after missions. Pretends he doesn’t. Completely melts anyway.

Cody

Cody acts composed after missions right until the apartment door closes. Then he’s suddenly all over you in the calmest, most deliberate way possible.

Wraps both arms around your waist from behind while you’re doing literally anything. You’ll be brushing your teeth, and he’s resting his chin on your shoulder like he’s magnetized to you.

He gets clingy through routine. Wants dinner together, shower together, naps together. Domesticity absolutely destroys him after weeks in the field.

If you leave to answer the door or grab something from another room, he follows without thinking. You’ll turn around and nearly run into him standing there with sleepy eyes and crossed arms.

Loves kissing your temple and forehead constantly. Small touches every few minutes just to reassure himself you’re there.

He’s deceptively tactile. Fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt while you sit together, absentmindedly tracing your skin.

Cody becomes extra soft when exhausted. Lets himself lean on you physically, heavy and warm, face tucked against your neck while you play with his hair.

Absolutely the type to steal your hand and rest it on his chest while you’re lying together because your touch settles him faster than anything else.

The longer the mission was, the more affectionate he gets afterwards. Slow kisses in the hallway. Arms tightening around you when you laugh. Quiet moments where he just stares at you with this exhausted fondness.

Rex

Rex comes home carrying exhaustion like extra armour. The second he sees you, though, his entire posture softens.

He’s clingy in a very unconscious way. Always reaching for your hand, your waist, your thigh. Like his body defaults to finding you after too much time surviving without comfort.

If you’re sitting down, he’s touching you somehow. Head in your lap, arm slung over your shoulders, fingers linked with yours.

Gets adorably irritated when you leave the couch. Watches you walk away with this betrayed expression before eventually trailing after you.

He follows you around the apartment without shame. Quietly leaning in the kitchen doorway while you make food, arms folded, eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing calming his mind down.

Rex loves physical reassurance after difficult missions. Long hugs where he buries his face into your neck and just breathes.

He’s surprisingly affectionate in public already, but in private, it’s constant. Kissing your knuckles. Pulling you into his lap. Pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder while you talk.

Definitely the type to pull you back into bed if you try getting up too early. One strong arm around your waist while he mutters sleepy complaints into your skin.

There’s always this underlying edge of restraint with him until he’s missed you for too long. Then suddenly he’s backing you gently into walls just to kiss you properly because he’s been thinking about it for weeks.

Fives

Fives returns from missions emotionally starving for affection and makes it everybody’s problem, especially yours.

He’s dramatically clingy about it, too. The second you sit down, he’s sprawled across you entirely, face buried in your chest while his full weight pins you into the couch.

Loves hearing your heartbeat after deployments. Says it helps him sleep better, though he’ll deny sounding sentimental about it.

If you get up while he’s comfortable, he groans like you’ve ruined his life. Then follows right behind you anyway, arms wrapping around your waist before you can even reach the next room.

He touches constantly. Fingers hooked through your belt loops. Hand sliding under your shirt. Knees pressed against yours under blankets.

Fives gets needy in a playful way. Biting lightly at your shoulder while you cook. Tugging you back into his lap every time you escape.

Absolutely loves engulfing you completely during naps. Limbs everywhere, heavy body draped over yours like a protective weighted blanket that occasionally steals kisses.

He gets softer late at night. Sleepy confessions against your collarbone. Quiet admissions about how much he thought about you while away.

When he’s overtired, he becomes incredibly affectionate. Pressing kisses to your stomach if you’re lying down. Holding your hand against his face. Looking at you like you hung the stars.

Also? The man cannot resist pulling you onto his lap just to feel you settle there. And the smug look he gets when you melt against him is unbearable.

Fox

Fox is touch-starved in a way he barely understands until he’s back with you.

Coruscant keeps him constantly alert, so when he finally gets home, he practically collapses onto you. Fully. No hesitation. Just this exhausted commander draped over your body like he’s trying to fuse himself to you permanently.

He loves lying on top of you with his face tucked into your neck while you play with his hair. Barely talks sometimes, just breathes you in quietly.

The clinginess comes with a possessive streak. Not controlling, just intensely attached after long stretches apart. His hand always finds your waist automatically.

If you leave the room, he notices instantly. Gives you this tired stare before silently following after you like an overworked tooka.

Fox especially craves domestic softness. Sitting between your knees while you rub his shoulders. Falling asleep with your fingers carding through his hair.

He gets handsy without thinking. Palm sliding over your thigh while you sit together. Pulling you flush against him every chance he gets.

Long periods of time away from you make him quietly needy for intimacy. Slow kisses against your throat. Hands lingering under your shirt. Forehead pressed to yours while he exhales shakily.

He absolutely traps you in bed after deployments. One arm banded tightly around your waist, sleep-heavy voice complaining whenever you try to move.

And despite the intimidating reputation, Fox becomes devastatingly soft in private. The kind of soft that melts completely when you kiss the scar near his temple or call him pretty while he’s half asleep.

Bacara

Bacara comes home carrying silence with him. Long missions leave him severe and withdrawn until you touch him for the first time.

Then suddenly he’s attached to your side all evening without saying a word about it.

He’s less openly clingy than the others, but somehow more intense. Standing close enough that his chest brushes your back. Resting a hand low on your spine whenever you walk past.

Bacara follows you around the apartment in this quiet, looming way. You’ll look up from washing dishes and find him leaning against the doorway, just watching you with softened eyes.

He doesn’t ask for affection directly. He simply takes your hand and keeps it.

Loves having you sit between his legs while he relaxes, arms wrapped around your middle with his chin resting on your shoulder.

Low murmurs near your ear about how distracting you are when you’re wearing too little around him after weeks apart.

Bacara gets especially touch-hungry at night. Hands roaming lazily over your waist and hips while he kisses you slow enough to make you dizzy.

Despite his reputation, he’s incredibly gentle post-mission. Careful kisses against your knuckles. Pulling blankets around you both before settling you against his chest.

If you try leaving the bed too soon in the morning, he just hooks an arm around your waist and tugs you back silently.

There’s something deeply intimate about the way he relaxes around you. The heavy exhale when your fingers trace along his jaw. The way his eyes close when you hold his face.

He acts like he’s above being needy right up until he’s practically carrying you around the apartment just to keep you close.

[onemass]

Hey! I’m so glad your requests are open, I love you writing!!

Could I please have Fives or Cody Drabble? Maybe a slice of life one? With either gn or fem reader please!

A Borrowed Jacket

Cody x gn reader

description: just cute post date night fluff

notes: I don't think I've finished a Cody drabble before + I'm working on a different Fives one so I chose Cody for this. And I just wanted to write something soft and fluffy so here you go

Your apartment was warm compared to the evening chill outside, the door sliding shut behind the two of you with a soft hiss that muted the distant sounds of Coruscant traffic. Dinner had gone longer than planned, though neither of you had minded.

Cody had spent most of it across from you in one of the few civilian shirts he could tolerate wearing, listening to you talk with a quiet attentiveness that always made you feel like the center of the universe. Even without his armor there was still something very him about the straight line of his posture and steadiness of his movements. Still, you'd noticed the occasional adjustment at his collar or sleeves, the unconscious discomfort of someone too accustomed to the weight of armor to fully settle into softer clothes.

The walk back had been cold enough that he'd frowned and draped his jacket over your shoulders, and you were still wearing it now. You paused near the door to kick off your shoes, nudging them absently against the wall before straightening again. Suddenly realizing how quiet it was, you glanced at Cody…who was silently watching you. His expression was that softer one he only ever really had when he was around you, and his gaze had gone distant for a moment like he'd gotten caught somewhere inside his own thoughts.

"What?" you asked, smiling a little.

He stayed quiet for a moment, taking the couple steps over to you. His hands settled lightly on your arms, fingers skimming upward over the sleeves of his jacket, slow and almost absent-minded.

"My jacket looks good on you," he said quietly, his eyes flicking down over you briefly before returning to your face.

You flushed faintly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His thumbs brushed over your arms before he pulled you gently closer, one arm sliding around your waist and his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. Cody always held you like your arms were the one place he could finally let himself relax. You slid your arms around him automatically, and he lowered his head until his nose brushed lightly against your temple, lingering there for a second before he pressed a soft kiss to your hairline.

"Tired?" you murmured.

"A little." His voice had dropped a little lower with exhaustion, rough around the edges in a way that always made your stomach flip a little. He was quieter when he got tired too, less restrained about affection.

You tipped your head enough to kiss him softly. You meant it to be quick, but Cody had never learnt how to stop at just one kiss with you. His hand tightened slightly at your waist, chasing your lips when you pulled back to kiss you again, slower, his mouth lingering against yours until you could feel the faint smile pulling at his lips. Another kiss followed immediately after, then another against the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw.

You laughed quietly when he nuzzled into the side of your face afterward, all affection and sleepy clinginess. "You're very affectionate tonight."

"Hm," he acknowledged. One of his hands slid beneath the jacket still hanging around your shoulders, fingertips brushing lightly against your side over your clothes. "You should keep the jacket. If you want."

You smiled faintly, tightening your arms around him a little. "You trying to pawn your clothes off on me?" you teased quietly. "You really hate civvies that much, huh?"

He chuckled quietly, low against your skin. "They feel wrong. Look better on you, anyway."

You huffed faintly, pulling back just enough to look at him. "You're charming when you're tired," you informed him, fondly tracing the edge of his smile with your thumb.

"Hm. That's unfortunate for you."

You snorted softly at that, the sound fading quickly as he tipped his head down to kiss you again. It was slow again, just sleepy, affectionate kisses that lingered like he was in absolutely no hurry to do anything else. His thumb brushed lazily along your side beneath the jacket while your fingers slid up into the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Cody leaned into you heavily now, tiredness finally catching up to him after the long evening. He rested his forehead against yours for a moment, eyes half-lidded. "C'mon," he murmured softly after a second, brushing one last kiss against the corner of your mouth. "Bed."

You smiled at the sleepiness in his voice. "Yeah, alright," you murmured, unable to resist brushing your lips softly against his one more time before letting him guide you to the bedroom, his hand still warm at your waist. By the time you reached the bed, his eyes were already drifting shut between kisses. You smiled quietly to yourself as he pulled you close again the second you stopped moving, burying his face against your neck with a tired little exhale.

Yeah, definitely affectionate tonight. Not that you were complaining. And you were definitely keeping the jacket.

Tag List: @nonooos-stuff, @limousinecatblog, @tiwaenriel, @forcesavetheclones, @heartbreakinabottle99, @neapolitan--girl, @blackdreamwarmachine, @echomina, @pocketthealer, @pabukaycf99, @fori-the-fool, @irisdtmf, @clonesquadron, @andreilesbo, @advertingpizza, @kristal-star

[sosleia]

Can you maybe write headcanons about the boys seeing you with a baby and getting ideas? Just seeing you happy and the baby laughing or something with you gets them thinking. can you write for wolffe and bacara(hardly anyone includes grumpy bacara!). No pressure though, thanks

Getting Broody After Seeing You With a Baby

Includes; Wolffe, Cody, Rex, Fives, Fox, Bacara, Hunter & Howzer

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, some mature comments

Wolffe

The baby is laughing. Full-body giggles, little hands grabbing at your fingers while you talk in that soft voice you only use around things you love.

And maker, Wolffe is staring.

He tries not to. He really does. But there’s something about the way you look down at the baby, patient, warm, and completely gentle, that hooks into his chest and pulls.

The kid spits up on your sleeve and you just laugh, wiping their chin with the edge of your shirt while murmuring, “Oh, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

Wolffe never thought babies were his thing. Too loud, too fragile, too unpredictable. He’d spent most of his life around soldiers and warzones, not soft blankets and tiny socks. But then he sees you sitting in the corner of the barracks lounge with someone’s infant tucked against your chest, his entire brain short-circuits.

Wolffe’s gone after that.

Because now he’s imagining what your child would look like. If they’d have your smile. If they’d curl tiny fingers around his scarred hands without fear.

It unsettles him how badly he wants it.

Later that night, he corners you in the corridor, arms crossed, trying to act normal while absolutely failing.

“You’re good with kids,” he mutters.

You grin. “That surprise you?”

“A little.”

His eye lingers on your mouth before dropping lower. “Made me think.”

“Oh?” you tease.

Wolffe steps closer, voice rough. “Thought about you carrying one around that looked like us.”

The silence after that is dangerous. You blink at him, cheeks warming, and he notices immediately. His smirk is slow and wolfish.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That got your attention.”

When you shove at his chest, embarrassed, he catches your wrist easily and pulls you closer.

“Don’t start blushing now, cyare. You were the one making domestic life look tempting.”

Then, “Besides, I think youd look good carrying my kid.”

And the bastard sounds entirely too pleased with himself when your knees nearly give out.

Cody

Cody has always been good at adapting. New battle plans, impossible odds, sudden chaos, he handles it all with a calm smile. But nothing prepares him for seeing you with a baby asleep against your shoulder during a base gathering.

You’re swaying gently to keep the little one asleep, absentmindedly rubbing tiny circles over their back while talking to someone nearby. The baby’s fist is curled in your shirt, completely content.

Cody feels something in his chest go painfully soft. He’s done for.

He leans against the doorway watching you for way too long, helmet tucked under his arm while his mind wanders somewhere dangerous. Somewhere warm, somewhere domestic.

You catch him staring eventually and raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says too quickly.

You narrow your eyes. “You’ve had that look on your face for five straight minutes.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re pretending not to think very loudly.”

That gets a laugh out of him. But he walks closer anyway, gaze drifting back to the baby.

“He trusts you,” he says quietly.

“Well, babies can tell who’s safe.”

The words hit him harder than they should. Because Cody suddenly imagines coming back from deployment and finding you in shared quarters with a sleepy infant curled against your chest. Imagines hearing tiny footsteps running toward him. Imagines home.

He’s absolutely cooked.

The baby wakes and starts fussing. Before you can soothe them, Cody crouches beside you and offers his finger. Tiny hands grab him instantly.

Your expression melts. And stars, that look from you almost kills him.

“What?” he asks, smiling.

“You’d make a really good dad.”

Cody freezes for half a second.Then his eyes darken just slightly as he looks between you and the baby. “That so?”

“Mhm.”

He stands slowly, close enough now that your breath catches. “Careful saying things like that to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I already spend enough time thinking about you.”

Your face warms instantly.

Cody grins, completely unrepentant. “Now I’m imagining you pregnant and looking at me like that too.”

You choke on air while he laughs softly, leaning down to murmur, “And honestly? That mental image is becoming a problem.”

Rex

Rex doesn’t notice it happening at first.

One second he’s walking into the medbay looking for Kix, and the next he’s stopped dead in the doorway because there you are with a baby balanced on your hip like you were born for it.

The little girl is babbling at you while clutching your name tag, and you’re answering her with complete seriousness.

“Oh really? That’s fascinating. Tell me more.”

The baby squeals happily and Rex feels his heart fold in on itself. You look so natural like this.

And suddenly he’s wondering what it would feel like to have a life outside the war. A tiny apartment somewhere quiet. You laughing in a kitchen while a child toddles after him calling him dad.

It hits him hard enough to steal the breath from his lungs.

The baby grabs your cheeks with both hands, making you laugh louder, and Rex is completely helpless after that.

“You break easy around kids, Captain?” you tease when you notice him staring.

“Only this one,” he says automatically.

Your eyebrows lift. You start laughing and he groans because now he’s embarrassed and you look adorable laughing at him.

But then the baby reaches toward him.

Rex hesitates before taking her carefully, surprisingly gentle for someone built for war. The baby immediately grabs his blond hair and giggles.

Your expression softens instantly.

And maker, that look from you nearly ruins him.

“You’re good at that,” you murmur.

Rex glances up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Something shifts in his face then. Something quieter. More vulnerable.

“I think…” He pauses. “I think I’d want one someday.”

Your breath catches slightly and Rex notices. His gaze drops to your lips before meeting your eyes again, warm and steady. “With the right person,” he adds softly.

The silence between you suddenly feels charged.

Then he smiles, slow and devastating.

“And if you keep looking at me while holding babies, you’re not making it easy to stay responsible about that.”

Fives

Fives notices things other people don’t. Tiny details, expressions, habits.

So the second he sees a baby crawl straight past three shinies and make a beeline for you, he’s paying attention.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of the hangar, laughing softly while the little boy climbs into your lap like he belongs there. The kid immediately grabs your face with sticky hands, and instead of recoiling, you kiss his palm dramatically.

“Well, hello to you too, tiny menace.”

The baby shrieks with delighted laughter.

Fives feels something dangerous spark low in his chest. Because you don’t even realize what you look like right now, smiling all soft and sleepy, holding that kid like it’s the easiest thing in the galaxy. Like you were made for it.

And suddenly his brain betrays him completely. He imagines a baby with your eyes and his curls. Imagines hearing you laugh like that in the middle of the night while holding his kid. Imagines waking up beside you with tiny feet kicking between you both.

He’s staring so hard Echo has to elbow him. “You look insane right now.”

“Shut up.”

You glance over at the sound of their bickering and grin. “You wanna hold him?”

Fives tries to play it cool. “Depends. Is he gonna throw up on me?”

“Probably.”

“Alright, hand him over.”

The second the baby settles against his chest, tiny fingers gripping his blacks, Fives is absolutely finished. Completely gone.

And then he looks up and catches the expression on your face. “You’re good at this,” you say quietly.

Fives smirks automatically. “Good with my hands, mesh’la.”

You snort. “That line work on everyone?”

“No.” His eyes flick down your body slowly. “Just the people I think about having a future with.”

The teasing leaves his voice at the end, replaced with something warmer, realer.

Your breath catches. Fives notices immediately, grin turning wicked. “Kriff,” he murmurs. “You really liked that one.”

Then he bounces the baby lightly and adds, “Careful or I’m gonna start thinking about putting one in your arms for real.”

Fox

Fox is exhausted almost constantly.

Coruscant never sleeps, which means neither does he. His life is paperwork, politics, and trying to stop the galaxy from collapsing every five minutes.

Domestic thoughts don’t happen for him anymore.

Until you. Until he walks into the Senate daycare during a security sweep and finds you sitting in the middle of a pile of toddlers like some kind of battlefield medic for tiny disasters.

One kid is asleep against your side. Another is braiding your sleeve strings together. A third is demanding you read the same holobook for the fifth time.

And you’re handling all of it with this calm, patient smile that hits Fox directly in the chest.

He leans in the doorway longer than he should.

Then one of the toddlers waddles over and wraps themselves around your leg while whining sleepily, and you scoop them up without hesitation, kissing their forehead automatically.

Fox is done for.

Because now he’s imagining coming home to this.

To you waiting up late with a baby half-asleep on your shoulder. To tiny socks left around quarters. To hearing laughter instead of blaster fire ringing in his ears.

It’s terrifying how much he wants it.

“You look scary when you stare,” you tell him eventually.

Fox crosses his arms. “Occupational hazard.”

“Mhm.” You smile knowingly. “Or you just like watching me babysit.”

His silence gives him away instantly. Your eyebrows rise. “Oh my gods,” you laugh softly. “Fox.”

He exhales through his nose, already doomed. “You’re good with them.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m thinking things I shouldn’t.”

Your smile turns dangerous. “Such as?”

Fox steps closer slowly until he’s standing right in front of you, gaze dropping briefly to the baby in your arms.

Then back to you. “Such as how good you’d look holding mine.”

The words come out low and rough and your face heats immediately. Fox notices, eyes darkening just slightly before he leans down near your ear. “And now I can’t stop imagining it.”

Bacara

Bacara is not soft. At least, that’s what everyone assumes.

The commander of the Galactic Marines is cold efficiency wrapped in armour and discipline. People straighten when he enters rooms. Troopers go silent.

Then he sees you holding a baby and suddenly the terrifying commander looks like he’s forgotten how to function.

It happens on leave. Some little girl from the settlement toddles toward you with grabby hands, and you crouch instantly to pick her up.

The child presses her face into your neck like she trusts you completely.

Bacara feels something sharp crack open in his chest, because you look beautiful.

You sway gently while talking to the girl, smiling every time she babbles nonsense at you. The kid eventually falls asleep against your shoulder, tiny fist curled into your shirt.

And Bacara cannot stop staring.

He starts thinking things he’s never let himself think before. About family. About seeing you heavy with his child and knowing, for once in his life, that something good belonged to him.

It scares him with the intensity of it.

“You’ve been glaring at me for ten minutes,” you say eventually.

“I’m not glaring.”

“You absolutely are.”

Bacara walks over slowly, eyes fixed on the sleeping child in your arms. His expression softens almost imperceptibly.

“She likes you.”

“She likes everybody.”

“No,” he says quietly. “Not like this.”

Something in his tone makes your stomach flip.

You shift the baby slightly. “You ever think about kids?”

Bacara’s gaze drags up your body slowly before meeting your eyes again. “Never used to.”

Your breath catches. “And now?” you ask softly.

His voice drops lower. “Now I can’t stop picturing you full of mine.”

The honesty of it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

Bacara notices instantly, thumb brushing briefly against your wrist.

“You’d look good like that,” he murmurs. “Safe, happy. Full of my child.”

And somehow the bluntness makes it infinitely worse.

Hunter

Hunter hears the baby laughing before he sees you.

Bright, uncontrollable giggles echo through the Marauder, and he follows the sound automatically, only to stop dead in the doorway.

You’re lying on the floor with a baby balanced on your stomach while Omega sits nearby absolutely delighted by the whole thing.

The kid is cackling every time you make exaggerated shocked faces.

“No way,” you gasp dramatically. “You stole my nose? Give it back!”

The baby smacks your face happily. Hunter’s chest aches instantly. Because this, this easy warmth around you, fits too well.

He’s spent so long protecting people that sometimes he forgets there’s supposed to be more to life than survival. But watching you with that child makes something painfully domestic settle into his mind.

A home somewhere quiet. Hunter’s completely lost in the thought before you notice him.

“You just gonna stand there looking mysterious?” you tease.

Omega snickers. “He’s doing the staring thing again.”

Hunter sighs. “Traitor.”

You laugh, and the baby reaches for him immediately.

The second Hunter takes the child, tiny fingers latch onto his bandana and tug hard enough to make the kid squeal triumphantly.

Your smile softens.

And stars, that expression from you nearly drops him.

“You look natural,” you murmur.

Hunter glances up. “With kids?”

“Mhm.”

Something vulnerable flickers across his face then disappears beneath a crooked smile. “That dangerous for me?”

“Very.”

He steps closer, baby balanced carefully against his chest while his eyes stay locked on yours.

“You know,” he says quietly, “seeing you like this is giving me ideas.”

Your cheeks warm instantly. “Hunter—”

“I’m serious.” His grin turns softer. “Can’t stop wondering what our kid would look like.”

The air between you suddenly feels too warm.

“Think they’d have your smile or my attitude?”

Howzer

Howzer falls a little bit in love with you every day already.

Seeing you with a baby just seals his fate completely.

You’re visiting one of the families on Ryloth when their infant starts crying mid-conversation. Before the parents can apologize, you hold your arms out automatically.

“Can I?”

The mother hands the baby over gratefully. And somehow within seconds, the crying stops.

You bounce the little girl gently against your chest, murmuring nonsense in a soft voice while her tiny fingers curl around yours.

Howzer stares like a man witnessing a divine revelation. Because you look radiant. Warm sunlight catches your face while the baby blinks up at you sleepily, completely calm now. You kiss her forehead without thinking, and Howzer feels his entire heart cave in.

He’s gone. The dangerous part is how quickly his mind jumps ahead.

He imagines children with your laugh running through open market streets. Imagines you teasing him while a baby naps against his chest. Imagines slow mornings and peace and a future he never thought he’d get.

“You’re staring again,” you say with amusement.

“Can you blame me?”

You grin. “I’m holding a baby, not performing magic.”

Howzer smiles softly. “Feels pretty close.”

The baby yawns, nestling deeper into you, and he physically has to stop himself from saying something reckless immediately.

Unfortunately, he fails.

“You’d make an incredible mother.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Howzer notices and steps closer, voice gentler now. “I mean it.”

There’s something devastatingly sincere in the way he says it. No teasing, no deflection. Just completely honest.

Then his gaze drops briefly to the baby before returning to you, warmer now. More intimate.

“And selfishly?” he murmurs. “I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you’d look carrying my child.”

Your breath catches hard enough that he smiles instantly.

“Ah,” he says softly, delighted. “There you are.”

Then he brushes his fingers against yours where they rest against the baby’s back.

“Good. Means I’m not the only one thinking about it now.”

[sosleia]

Undressed

Commander Cody x Reader

summary; You and Cody have been dancing around each other for months. When he gets badly injured, will your true feelings come to light? warnings; injuries, WC; 1784

The doors to the medbay burst open, and you were already moving before anyone said a word.

The sight that met you made your stomach drop. Several members of the 212th were carrying Commander Cody between them.

His armour was scorched black on one side, a crack split through his chest plate, blood stained the orange markings of his armour, and dripped steadily onto the floor beneath him.

For a split second, genuine fear seized your chest, but your training quickly took over. "Put him on the bed."

The clones obeyed instantly.

Cody immediately pushed himself upright. "I'm fine."

You stared at him. The commander had blood running down the side of his face, one eye was already beginning to swell, and half his armour looked like it had been through an artillery strike.

And he had the audacity to say he was fine. "Lie back down."

"I'm fine."

"Cody."

The warning in your voice made him pause. Behind him, Waxer snorted, Boil immediately looked away to hide his grin, and several other members of the 212th exchanged amused looks.

They'd seen this routine before. You and Cody had been dancing around each other for months. Neither of you ever crossed any lines, neither of you ever said anything, but everyone with functioning eyes could see it. The lingering glances, the concern, the way Cody somehow always found excuses to visit the medbay.

The commander sighed dramatically and laid back down. "There. Happy?"

"No."

His brothers laughed. Cody looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow them all.

You began removing damaged pieces of armour. The moment the top half of his blacks fell free, your expression darkened. Bruises covered nearly his entire side. Several deep cuts stretched across his shoulder. A burn wound ran from his ribs toward his back. Not life-threatening, but painful. Painful enough that Cody's jaw tightened every time he moved.

You looked up. "What happened?"

"Building collapsed."

"On him," Boil helpfully added.

Cody shot him a look. "A small building."

"It wasn't small," Waxer said.

"It was definitely a building."

"It exploded first."

The entire group immediately began talking over each other.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Out."

The brothers scattered. Though not before Waxer managed to call over his shoulder, "Feel better, Commander." The smirk in his voice was unmistakable.

The doors shut, and silence settled over the room.

You turned back to Cody. His expression had become softer. Less commander, more Cody. The version only a handful of people ever saw.

"You don't have to fuss."

You looked up sharply. "I absolutely do."

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile but close enough.

You began cleaning the wounds carefully. The first antiseptic application made him flinch.

You immediately frowned. "Sorry."

"I'm fine."

"You hate being injured."

"I hate medbays."

"You specifically hate being treated."

"That too."

For a while, the only sounds were medical scanners and the soft movements of your hands as you worked.

You focused on cleaning a cut along his shoulder. Cody focused on you. Entirely. Every time you looked up, his eyes were already there, watching. Not in an uncomfortable way, not even intentionally, probably. Just watching.

As though the rest of the room had disappeared. As though you were the only thing worth looking at. The realisation made warmth creep into your cheeks.

A few moments later, you glanced up again. He was still staring. "Cody."

"Hm?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Like what?"

"Like..."

You immediately regretted asking, because now he looked genuinely curious.

You cleared your throat. "Never mind."

The corner of his mouth lifted, and somehow that made everything worse.

Eventually you finished the examination. The scanner results appeared and you immediately pointed toward the bacta ward.

"No."

"Cody."

"No."

"You need bacta."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I'll be fine."

"You have three fractured ribs."

His expression froze.

You folded your arms. "You're going in the tank."

"I hate bacta tanks."

"I know."

"They're awful."

"I know."

"They're humiliating."

You raised an eyebrow. "They're medical equipment."

"They're embarrassing."

You laughed despite yourself, the sound seeming to surprise both of you.

Then Cody sighed heavily. "Fine."

The private recovery area was thankfully empty. Cody sat on the edge of the treatment bed while you prepared the bacta tank.

After a few minutes, silence broke behind you. "Medic."

You turned. Cody was attempting to remove the remaining pieces of armour. Attempting, being the important word. One arm clearly wasn't cooperating. Pain flashed briefly across his face.

Your expression softened immediately. "Stop."

"I'm trying."

"You're making it worse."

His jaw tightened. The stubbornness was almost impressive.

You stepped forward. "Let me help."

For a second, he looked like he wanted to refuse. Then another stab of pain crossed his expression.

Slowly he nodded. You carefully removed each remaining piece of armour, the process taking longer than normal because of his injuries. Every movement had to be slow and careful.

You could feel his attention on you the entire time, and you were painfully aware of how close you stood.

The armour eventually came free, then the remaining protective layers beneath. He was left sitting in only his boxer underwear.

"There,” You smiled gently. "See? Not so bad."

The privacy curtain suddenly flew open. Boil walked in. Stopped, stared, and his eyes widened at the sight of his Commander in just his underwear in front of you.

You froze, Cody froze, and Boil immediately looked toward the ceiling. "Oh."

Nobody said a word. The trooper slowly backed away.

"I'll come back later."

The curtain closed. Three seconds passed, then distant shouting erupted from somewhere outside.

"What happened?"

"What did you see?"

"You won't believe me."

"What?"

"Liar."

"I swear."

You buried your face in your hands, Cody groaned, and the shouting somehow became louder.

By the time Cody finally entered the bacta tank, the entire battalion probably thought they'd witnessed some galaxy-shattering scandal.

The commander sank into the glowing liquid. The medical systems activated, and soon his eyes drifted shut. He was peaceful, healing, and safe.

Only then did the knot in your chest begin to loosen, because despite all his arguments and stubbornness and insistence that he was fine, he had been hurt. Badly.

And for a few terrifying moments earlier, you'd thought it might have been worse. Much worse.

The next morning felt strange. The moment you woke up, your thoughts returned to Cody. By the time you entered the recovery ward, your stomach was full of nervous energy.

The bacta tank had already been drained by another medic. Cody stood nearby waiting. Freshly healed, though fresh bruises remained, the worst injuries had faded significantly.

Relief washed through you. Then you noticed something else, the distance in his posture, the guarded expression, the way he avoided meeting your eyes.

Your smile faded. "Good morning."

"Morning."

Short. Confusion prickled.

You retrieved the hospital clothing. "Here."

"I can do it."

You paused. "What?"

"I've got it."

The words weren't cruel. But they were distant, cold compared to yesterday, compared to every interaction you'd shared for months.

Something sank heavily in your chest. "Oh, okay."

Cody took the clothes. Still refusing to look directly at you.

You stepped back, hurt spreading through you with every passing second.

The silence grew unbearable. "What did I do?"

His head lifted immediately. "What?"

"What did I do wrong?"

The question escaped before you could stop it.

Cody stared, clearly surprised. "You didn't do anything."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything."

"You are."

His jaw tightened. You felt your own frustration building fast.

"I don't know what's happened since yesterday, but you're being… stubborn."

His eyes flashed. "I'm being stubborn?"

"Yes."

"Interesting."

"Oh, don't start."

The argument ignited instantly. Months of tension finally finding somewhere to go.

"You nearly got yourself killed."

"I completed the mission."

"You got crushed by a building."

"It happens."

"It shouldn't."

"It was necessary."

"No, it wasn't."

His expression hardened. "So now you're criticizing my battlefield decisions?"

"I'm criticizing your complete lack of self-preservation."

The words echoed through the room, and silence swiftly followed. The kind that even your breathing felt too loud. So did his.

Then suddenly all the anger drained away. Leaving only honesty, raw and impossible to hide. 

"I was scared."

The words came out quietly. Cody froze.

"I was terrified," You admitted.  "When they brought you in, I thought…" 

His expression softened immediately. All the frustration disappearing, all the walls lowering. And somehow that made everything worse, because now there was nowhere left to hide.

"You matter to me."

The confession hung between you. Simple and terrifying, but true.

Cody laughed softly. Not because it was funny, but because he'd been carrying the same burden for just as long.

"You think I was avoiding you because I didn't care?"

Your eyes lifted. "Then why?"

Cody rubbed a hand across his face, looking strangely vulnerable. "I was avoiding you because I care too much."

Your breath caught. The room suddenly felt very small. "I spent half the night thinking and dreaming about you."

Your heart skipped.

 "And this morning I realised I couldn't keep pretending." He looked away briefly. "I know this isn't supposed to happen. But every time I come back from a mission, you're the first person I look for."

Emotion tightened your chest.

"And when things go wrong..." He swallowed. "I think about whether I'll see you again."

The honesty in his voice was devastating.

You crossed the distance first. Not much, just enough. Cody met you halfway. Neither of you seemed capable of stopping anymore. Not after this, not after months of silence, not after nearly losing each other.

His hand found yours and you squeezed gently.

A smile finally appeared on your face, one full of relief.

"There you are."

His own smile answered yours, a real one, rare and genuine. The one you always loved seeing.

"I was always here."

The weight between you finally gone.

You shook your head slightly. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"I know."

"You were reckless."

"Probably."

"Definitely."

The look in his eyes made your heart ache. Slowly and carefully, he lifted a hand to your cheek, giving you every chance to step away. You didn't, and neither did he.

The kiss was gentle. Nothing desperate, nothing rushed, but rather gentle and light, months of unspoken feelings finally finding their way into the open.

When you finally pulled apart, neither of you moved very far. Foreheads almost touching, big grins gracing both of your lips.

Outside the curtain, a loud voice suddenly shouted, "Waxer, you owe me fifty credits!"

[carbon-corrie]

Presenting Alpha-17 being the cool dad older brother by telling stories and instructing the CC Batch (plus Rex and Baby Boba) on how to out-sass any Natborn they may encounter!

[carbon-corrie]

Time for a new family picture! They've grown up a lot since this one ❤️

[withmyloveasyourgarden]

– LIKE I SEE YOU

DIN DJARIN x F!READER

Request: Reader struggling with insecurities and being unable to look at Din because his beskar reflects them, Din realising and stepping in to help. CW: insecurities caused by shitty parents, angst, minor breakdown, mental health, Din being so soft and lovely. [4K. Re-uploaded from my old blog.]

It’s one of those days.

The days where your mind decides to be your worst enemy and spits insults like acid, firing up each and every insecurity you’ve ever felt in rapid succession like a never ending horror reel in your brain whilst you stare with too sharp eyes at the mirror. 

And shutting them doesn’t work. 

The image lingers, imprinted. Distorted. Your mind turning it to something monstrous to fit the words that blaze incriminatingly across your features. 

It’s the type of day where you compare yourself to everyone that goes by even though you know you’re only feeding the parasitic thoughts behind your self-loathing behaviour. 

But you can’t stop. 

You can’t snap yourself out of it with kind affirmations no matter how hard you try, positive mantras like I am enough - I’m perfect just the way I am - they sound weak in comparison to  the other things ramming against your skull. False even. 

You can’t even distract yourself with the job you’re supposed to be doing, you're that unfocused, and of course Din notices. 

He noticed the moment your mood shifted, the moment your smile became a tiny, hollow thing and the wild spark of your eyes dulled. 

He noticed the moment your shoulders sagged as if struggling under some colossal weight and he could almost sense you shrinking into yourself, trying to make yourself appear smaller, unnoticeable to everyone including him, even as the two of you leaned side by side against the sticky bar of a run-down cantina waiting for an informant. 

Din just doesn’t understand why.

You were born to burn, not fade to shadow. 

You burned right through him - his armour and his unimaginably high walls that he thought he would never lower for anyone until you came along and showed him it was okay to depend on another every once in a while. 

Before he had loathed the idea of sharing his work with someone, his home, but then he had found you.

You, who had stunned him from the first time he warily approached you. With your sweet expression and mischievous smile - the way your eyes glittered as light bounced off the dagger that you flipped so effortlessly in your hand. 

You who had immediately launched into a vividly detailed plan of how you and him could slip into the bounty’s hideout and rip it apart from within from the moment he reluctantly had suggested he might need some help.

You had been glorious, destruction in your veins and blood streaked across your face, your neck, your bruised knuckles as you sunk a blade into one man's spine and twisted. 

Together, they had broke against the bounty’s muscle with the force of a tsunami and by the time there was no one left, no one except the cowering heap that you dropped at his feet with a warm, buttery smile, Din had been fucking starstruck. 

He’s remained that way ever since. His awe flourishing, blooming, into something that takes his breath away even when he watches you do the most mundane things. 

Every move you make seems to hold a beauty to it, a whisper of lovely power, something unique he can only ever link to you that makes his heart seize behind his ribs. 

And he can’t understand why it feels like he’s now watching that flame that burns within you go out before his very own eyes. Why you’re trying to make yourself invisible and refuse to meet the dark gaze of his visor even though he knows you can sense his eyes on you.

“What’s wrong?” He prods quietly. 

You sigh then, a flicker of something pained passing over your features before you can hide it. “Nothing. I’m fine.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

“And you’re not usually this fucking nosy.” You snap, muscles tensing, still refusing to spare him even a single glance. “I said I’m fine, Mando. Drop it.” 

His brow pinches in a frown, eyes narrowed to slits as he lets your sudden burst of anger crash against him. Tasting the defensiveness and frustration brushed through it. 

He knows this. 

He’s all too familiar with becoming aggravated when he doesn’t know how to get shit that’s bothering him off his chest, the way he would allow it to bleed out through rage or violence because trying to form it into words made him feel foolish. 

It seems like you’re both similar in that way, maybe you don't need him trying to gently coax it out of you. 

Maybe you need a fight to let it all come pouring out.

 ** 

You’re furious by the time he’s dragged you into the tiny bathroom. Baring your teeth like a snarling beast as you yank your wrist from his tense grip. 

The contact had thrown you. Your heart stopping before it broke out into a chaotic gallop that you could almost believe would be heard by the Mandalorian as he took an intimidating step closer. 

The blank slate of his visor had bore into you and you had felt it so excruciatingly - the weight of his assessment, the crushing force of your own insecurities as he crowded you. 

Close enough that everything you considered a flaw was laid before his eyes in startling clarity and reflected back at you in the mirror sheen of his helmet. 

It made your stomach churn, anxiety crawling through your chest, an icy hand that winds around your neck and grips tight until his sudden touch had shattered its hold. 

“Come with me.” He’d growled.

And temporarily stunned, you’d gone. 

Stumbling to keep up as he all but dragged you away from the roaring noise of music and clashing conversations to a room so quiet you could hear your blood rushing in your ears as your surprise gave way to anger.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss, ripping away from him as he slams the door closed behind him. “We’re supposed to be waiting for someone.”

You make to push past him and he doesn't budge an inch, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he looms over you. An immovable wall of solid beskar. “We’re not doing anything else for this job until you tell me what’s going on with you.” 

You glare at him, fists clenched tight at your sides “I said it was nothing.” 

“And like I said, you’re a fucking terrible liar.” He shoots back.

Why do you even care, you want to scream. 

There’s a fierce energy building inside you, the volatile kind, self-destructive. Born from too many emotions spinning through your head.

You try and focus on the steady drip of the faucet to will it down, counting specks of mould on the worn tiles, how many times the light can flicker in between each uncomfortable breath you take. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You grit, attempting to assert some kind of authority of the situation. “All that matters is that we have a job to do and we’re wasting time.”

It doesn’t work. 

“No. We’re out. I’m calling it.” He advances on you slowly, his tone creeping towards irritation at the stubbornness of your denial. “You’re too distracted, lost somewhere in your own head. You might not give a shit that it could get you killed but I do.”

Suddenly there’s a wave of tears building, burning incessantly behind your nose, those nasty little voices beginning to purr through your skull as you gape at him.

Useless.

Can’t even do the one thing he keeps you around for, your job.

Why would he ever look at you the way you wish he would when all you are is a constant hindrance to him. 

And then you get defensive, that energy bursting hot and fast through your blood before you can choke it down and lock it up nice and tight. 

“You don’t get to make that decision for me Mando.” You snarl, swatting away his outstretched hand that reaches for you when expression threatens to crumble. “Don’t. You don’t have to keep pretending you care, I know I’m dispensable, if I die you can get another partner anywhere.”  

He reels back as if you’ve struck him. “You really think I’d do that?” 

“Why not! It’s not like I’m special is it? There’s heaps of other hunters out there, one’s more skilled, more reliable. Probably easier on the eyes too.” You laugh humourlessly, eyes stinging with salt as you begin to pace. Ignoring the gentle lilt of your name that he tries to offer as a grounding force, something to bring you back to him when you’re clearly beginning to spiral. 

“Hell you could replace me right here and now if it’ll make your life easier.” You babble and oh stars, it's like you can't stop. “Just think of all the credits you can rake in, not having to put up with my shit anymore.” 

Your breaths are starting to come quick and shallow and before you can say anything else Mando is immediately in front of you - his hands snatching at your shoulders before he drags you into a bone-crushing hug. 

You struggle against it for a moment, a fighter down to the last possible second, and then you fall apart. Harsh, ugly sobs wracking your frame whilst his gloved hand smooths over your hair, his helmet pressed to your temple as he makes soft mouthed sounds to try and comfort you. 

He waits until your cries quieten down, until the quake of your body lessens to a light shudder and then he tilts his head to look at you. “Look at me. Look at me, mesh’la, please.” He murmurs. 

You shake your head. You don’t want to see how pathetic you look, can’t bear the thought of what will stare back at you in the reflection of his beskar. 

“Please.” He repeats. 

You bury your face closer into his cowl, croaking “I can’t.”

There’s a beat of silence - disrupted only by the rhythmic drip drip drip from the faucet. And then he’s sighing, a desperately sad sound that twists something in your aching chest until you're sure you’ll feel a snap.

“Can you tell me why?” He murmurs, hesitance bleeding through him as you stiffen in his arms and he swallows thickly. “It’s not just now is it, you haven’t been able to look at me in days and if it’s because of something I’ve done - if I’ve made you feel this way - then I need to know. I need to make it right, because I can’t lose you.” 

Oh - oh no - he thinks it's his fault. 

Your throat closes up and for a moment you feel like you could cry all over again. 

He carries a guilt that has never been his to bear and it wounds you in some way, that this man who has only known you for such a short time takes your happiness so personally that he would beg to right a wrong that he’s not even sure he himself had made. 

He says that he can’t lose you like he refuses to entertain a scenario where you’re not by his side and you don’t even realise that you’re practically crushing him to you in another fierce embrace until you feel the gentle weight of his helmet resting against the crown of your head. 

"It's not you Mando." You blurt, a soft flutter brushing through your chest when he squeezes you tight as his body sags with relief. But only seconds later he stiffens again and you know he’s heard it. 

The implication. 

It’s not you. There’s someone else causing this.

You know he’s worked it out by the sudden change in how he holds you, the subtle shift from comforting to protective, his body all but curling around yours. 

He growls. “Who.”  And you shudder. 

You need to explain and fast before he decides to storm out of the bathroom and track down everyone who’s come into contact with you in the past few days. 

This job you’ve been on had required a lot of stealth so as to not tip off your target and if you were going to pick up where you left off after everything then the last thing you needed was your Mandalorian going on a vengeful rampage. 

He lets you untangle yourself from him reluctantly, follows like a shadow when you point to a spot on the floor and state lamely. “We should probably sit for this.” 

**

You can feel his eyes on you as you slide down the wall, as you fold your legs only to stretch them out in front of you not even a moment later. 

He’s not stupid, you know that, you know Mando is wisely giving you the time you need, refraining from pushing whilst you try and get your head together under the guise of making yourself comfortable on the grimy floor. 

When you’re as ready as you think you’ll ever be you take a deep breath to begin but suddenly find yourself hesitating. Were you really going to tell him? Could you let every sad little truth pour from you when you've spent so long plugging it up, shoving it down. Building a damn in your mind and your heart to keep it from making a mess for those around you. 

Hunters were meant to be strong, an undeniable, deadly force. 

They didn't do insecurities, self-doubt. Weaknesses. 

At least that's what you'd always been told. It's the impression you got from every one that you had ever met, including Mando. 

So how could you tell him that you were haunted by all of them. That every now and again they ripped into you and made you feel like your worth was less than nothing. How could you lay yourself emotionally bare like that and expect that he would still look at you the same after? 

…Except hadn't you already? 

You had spiralled before his very eyes. You had screamed and cried and shattered to pieces and yet… there had been no judgement. 

There had been nothing from him except comfort and patience. The press of his body against yours as he held you like you were infinitely precious, like he wished nothing more than to be a barrier against all these things he was clueless about except for the fact they were trying to hurt you.

“Did you know I always wanted to be a hunter?” You ask so suddenly that he jerks, surprised. 

It makes you smile when he softly shakes his head , when he shifts from his relaxed position against the wall and tilts his body towards yours as you offer a rare glimpse into the life you had before him. 

“I thought it sounded like the coolest job ever.” You recall. “Getting paid to chase down bad people and learning how to use a shit load of weapons? What more could I want? And it turned out I was good at it, better than a lot of other things I’d tried to force myself into growing up.” 

He makes a soft noise of agreement, like he gets it, and your lips twitch. “When I returned home after a really long time of taking pretty much every job that came my way, I thought my parents would be proud. I thought they’d be happy I had made some kind of a life for myself and that I wasn’t struggling for money like they had worried I would when I decided to make my own way instead of relying on them.” 

You close your eyes as the memory resurfaces.  “They weren’t. My dad basically said I was no better than a vulture, feeding off other people’s misfortune, but my mum…”

You swallow against the crack of your voice, fingers picking at a still healing wound on your hand before a gloved one stops you. Silently lacing thick fingers through your own as you struggle not to sob.

“My mum told me I had ruined myself. My face and my body. I had forgotten how obsessed she could be with our family’s image and legacy until she told me that no one would want someone who was covered in scars or who’s nose or teeth weren’t perfectly straight because they’d been damaged too many times fighting like some kind of wild beast.”

He sucks in a breath and you can feel it. His disbelief, his rage. His devastation.

It pours from him in waves as he visibly bristles beside you, drenching his voice when he rasps your name and you have to hurriedly continue. Shoving the rest of the story out of you because if you stop, if you let yourself wallow in the emotions clawing at the pair of you, then you may never fully get the weight of it off your chest.

“I told her I didn’t care.” You spit. “That if my appearance bothered people that much then maybe they were the type of people I didn't want to be around. And it had been the truth, I fucking meant every word.” 

 “But then I started noticing the way some people would look at me, the way they’d be scrutinising my face or my hair or what I was wearing and I’d hear her voice in my head again.” You don’t realise you’ve trailed off, gone distant, until the soft pressure of Mando’s thumb drawing circles on your hand brings you back. 

“I started wondering if they thought the same as her when they looked at me too and then it was like I couldn’t stop. Eventually it happened enough that when I was looking at myself, sometimes I started to think it too.” 

His fingers tighten around yours, the soft, aching sigh of “Cyar’ika” slipping through the modulator wrapping around the pain in your chest and dulling some of those sharper edges. 

You sniff and your voice comes out thin - watery. “There’s days where I still hear it and when I look in the mirror, or something reflective like your armour, it’s all I can see. But at least I’m still a good hunter right, I’ve got that left? Only, today I completely fucked that up too. So when I can’t look at you Mando, it’s not because you’ve done anything to hurt me or piss me off, it's because when I do, all I can see is how much I disgust myself.”

There’s silence between you as he digests everything. It stretches out and allows your thoughts to wander with it, undecided if what you feel after all that was said is relief or something else. 

It’s nice that you’ve been able to talk about something that has pained you for so long but now Mando has another piece of you that no one else does, the part of you that is most vulnerable, and you don’t really know what to do with that. 

“They don’t deserve you.” He mutters suddenly, so quietly that you almost had to question if you’d simply been hearing things.

You frown. “Who?”

He has your hand in his lap now, cradling it in his larger one as he traces nervous patterns with the other. His voice is steady however, utterly serious. “Your parents, the people who give you those looks. Anyone who can look at you and not see how incredible you are.” 

Your chest spasms and you look at him in surprise before your lips attempt to curve into a weak imitation of a smile. 

“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better Mando but–”

“Don’t do that.” He chastises you gently. “Whatever voice is telling you right now that you aren’t worthy of being told what I’m about to say to you, I want you to tell it to shut the fuck up and listen to me.” 

You snort and the way he tilts his helmet in your direction makes you pretty sure he’s currently got his eyes narrowed at you, an expression on his face that would probably say if you don’t listen, I’ll find a way to make you. 

You nod for him to continue. 

“You are incredible.” He reiterates. “You chose to make something of yourself when you could have had an easy life and you fucking excelled at it. You’re one of the best hunters I’ve ever seen even on your off days and you’ve saved my ass more times than I’d like to count.” 

You murmur a sly “seven” and quicker than you can react he pinches your thigh. A yelp bursts from your throat followed by a shaky laugh and it’s a quick reprieve from the way the pride in his voice was making your ribs constrict.

“You’re a genuinely good person, I have never seen you turn away a single person who’s come to you for help and you constantly go out of your way for people. Even those who probably don’t deserve it, like me.” He sees the way you open your mouth to argue and quickly holds up a hand to stop you, shrugging.

“I was an asshole when we met, don't deny it.” 

He had been.

But you had sensed that there was something underneath it all, that there was more than meets the eye when it came to this particular Mandalorian and you had been intrigued.

And also right. 

He shifts next to you and then there’s the brush of buttery-soft leather at your jaw. Hesitant fingertips tilting your face fully towards him as his helmet hovers just above your forehead and you gulp.

“Mando–” You whisper. 

“Your mother called you ruined but that’s not what I see when I look at you.” He breathes and you tremble as he palmes your cheek. “Every part of you is beautiful and there is nothing that black eyes, bruises, broken bones and scars can do to take that away. They only add to it. They prove that you’re a fucking warrior. That you’ve lived and fought and survived everything the galaxy has had to throw at you. How can your body be ruined when its remained strong and kept you alive despite the hell you’ve been through?” 

Something breaks inside you - you’re crying and you don’t even realise it until Mando’s other hand leaves yours to gently swipe away the tears with both thumbs. 

It’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to you and it seems to highlight the fucking number that those words from your mother have done on you, the fact that you have no idea how to take what Mando has said.

How you're supposed to believe it. 

But you want to. 

You desperately want to believe it so you can drown out the poison in your head with it. Take all those pretty words and lock them safe in your heart for when you next need them. 

And unsurprisingly, thanks to how adept you've become at reading the other, Mando instantly catches on to your internal struggle. 

"You don't have to believe me right now." He tells you softly, patiently. "I know it won't magically make everything go away and you'll suddenly see yourself the way I see you." 

He leans back and pulls you with him, tugging you into his chest as his arms wrap around your shoulders and waist. His chin notched at your crown and the venomous voice in your mind quiet for the first time in days as you ease into his comfort.

"But one day you will and until that happens I'll gladly be there to remind you as many times as you need me to." 

You choose to believe that.

A hopeful smile tugging at your lips before you lift your face from its place buried in his neck, pressing a sweet kiss to the cheek of his helmet as you whisper. "Thank you Mando."

You choose to believe that you'll always have him by your side. That the dark stain of your mother's words will eventually fade away. 

That one day you'll see yourself as the warrior you've always been. 

And that's enough for now.

[stealingpotatoes]

i don't know what older adults were on about when they said being a teenager was good <3

[mistybatch]

Heya! How are you? :D

Could I request soft/domestic headcanons with the commanders? Like doing their hair and just babying them cause they need it 😭 GN is fine with me :D

Thank you and have a good day 😄

commanders x gn reader: taking care of them

warnings: nudity (nothing explicit, wolffe just takes a bath), smoking

A/N: never really wrote wolffe or mayday before so this was a bit difficult but also so cute T.T I think I spent more time on the setup though so uhm... sorry. very typical for me tho

comments and reblongs are very appreciated!! :D

Wolffe

Wolffe's greeting, as he stepped into your apartment, consisted of a distracted kiss to your forehead and lots of grumbling under his breath.

"What's wrong?" You asked as he set his helmet on the coffee table.

"Stupid missions and stupid people," he complained, running a hand through his hair.

"So the usual?"

"Yes." Something you could almost call a pout settled on his lips and you shook your head. This wasn't how you wanted to spend your evening and you know that if nothing changed, he'd continue snarking the entire time he was here.

So, you turned, walking to you 'fresher. You filled the bathtub with warm water, making sure it wouldn't burn him. Once it was full, you walked back into your living room.

"Wolffe. Come on."

He turned his gaze towards where you stood in the door, eyes narrowed. You knew he was debating whether it was worth the effort to get up but after a few moments he sighed and followed you without further complaint, which should have been your first warning that he was more exhausted than he was letting on.

He paused in the doorway of the 'fresher, taking in the steam curling up from the bath, the faint scent of something herbal, the soft light. "You're serious about this."

"Dead serious," you said. "Clothes off. In you get."

He gave you a look — part scepticism, part something softer — but obeyed. Slowly and methodically, he unclasped his armour and removed his bodyglove (with your help). By the time he lowered himself into the water with a long, full-body groan, you could already see the tension starting to crack.

"'m sorry for snapping." He whispered, as the warmth seeped into his skin.

"All good," you smiled.

Sitting down on the edge of the tub you reached out and began kneading his shoulders. Wolffe groaned again, leaning into your touch as you tried to remove any knots in his shoulders.

"Mhh you're such an angel," he muttered as your hands slipped lower, massaging that spot between his shoulder blades that always seemed to bother him the most and could feel him slowly relaxing under your fingers.

Once you deemed him relaxed enough, you grabbed some shampoo and lathered up his hair. Gently, you began massaging his scalp, careful not to pull at his hair that was knotted from being under the helmet so often.

Wolffe closed his eyes, leaning his head against your chest as he groaned again. You wanted to tell him off for getting your clothes wet but he looked so peaceful that you just didn't have the heart to do so.

Then you moved onto the rest of his body, running your hands over every part of him that you could reach while Wolffe kept muttering how amazing you were under his breath.

"I don't deserve you," he broke the silence then with a rare display of vulnerability.

"You do. You're out there, doing so much good. The least I can do is make sure you're comfortable every once in a while."

"Mhhh you're right," he mumbled, pulling back from you to wash the soap off himself.

The height of this man's self-confidence was something you admired but it also regularly pulled a chuckle out of you. "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot," he smirked.

Shaking your head, you stood up to dry your hands off with a towel you had lying nearby but before you could get too far away, Wolffe wrapped his arms around you.

"Wolffe, I swear if you—" Before you could even finish the sentence, he pulled you into the tub with him. Water splashed over the edge and your clothes were soaked through in seconds as you sat on his lap.

You glared at him and punched his shoulder but Wolffe just laughed, placing a kiss on your nose. "You're cute when you're mad."

"And you're unbearable." Now it was your time to grumble.

"You love me anyway."

"Yeah… I do."

Fox

Fox was never not stressed whenever you saw him and even those times were rare. The Chancellor always kept him buried in work and on top of that he'd rather be around his men — especially the shinies — to protect them from the natborns.

However, today was one of those rare days where Thorn and Thire kicked him out of his office since it was a slow day with less work.

That was how he found himself in your apartment again, still insisting on finishing some reports while you tried to take his datapad away from him with no success. The man was hellbent on working himself into the ground but luckily for you, you had just the secret weapon to make him finally take a break.

Fox was currently sitting on your couch, scrolling through some document with one had, when you made your move. You wandered over to him, squeezing in between the datapad and him to settle on his lap.

As if on instinct, his other hand found your hip, steadying you.

"Hey, I need to finish that," he grumbled, trying to look past you.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Mh, nope. I have something better for you," you teased, reaching for a pack hidden in your jacket.

"And what's that exactly?" His eyes finally met yours, leaving that damned datapad, which already counted as a success in your book.

"Put those reports away for the rest of the night and I'll show you on the balcony."

Fox narrowed his eyes, the gears in his head visibly turning as he tried to figure out your plan while you grinned at him. Then he sighed.

"Fine, you win. But if it's not good enough I'm finishing this," he grumbled again and gently pushed you off of his lap.

Already cheering internally, you slid off and made sure he put the device away before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the balcony. There, he plopped down onto an old plastic chair and you landed on his lap again.

"Now what do you have for me," he smiled up at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

You finally plucked the little pack from your jacket and Fox's eyes lit up immediately, grabbing at the pack and lighting a cigarette as fast as possible.

It's not that you particularly liked his habit of smoking but with how rarely he got out of his office these days, you thought it wouldn't hurt to indulge him a little bit and his reaction definitely proved how much he loved it.

Fox exhaled, the smoke curling in the air around you and you scrunched your nose at the smell. Fox chuckled, placing a kiss to your nose before he took another drag from the cigarette.

"You spoil me, love," Fox muttered, closing his eyes, and leaning his head back.

"If you're good, I have another thing for you." You smiled, carding your fingers through his hair and massaging his head slightly.

"And what else could you have?"

"Guess."

"Alcohol." Fox exhaled the smoke again.

"Wrong. Thorn and Thire would kill me for that. Something better."

"What's better than alcohol?" He asked and you shook your head. He really was unbearable.

"Well, guess again."

Fox paused, his brows furrowing and you placed a soft kiss right between them. "Wait, no, you didn't." He looked back up again, eyes wide.

"Maybe I did," you grinned.

"You got me hot chocolate?" The pure joy and disbelief in his voice broke your heart a little. Fox rarely had any happiness in his life — dealing with the loss of brothers, the hate of other battalions, and creepy politicians on the daily. But in the end, he had guilty pleasures just like anyone else and you loved to provide him with those things

"Yeah, I did." More precisely, you had spent the better part of the last week tracking down the small company that imported the chocolate that was Fox's favourite.

"Fuck. you're the best," Fox breathed, placing a hand on the back of your head and crashing your lips against his. His lips tasted like smoke and you could feel one of his rare smiles emerging as you kissed him back.

When you parted, you slipped back inside and brought back two cups of hot chocolate. The two of you spent the rest of the night sitting together and after a while you could feel Fox relaxing under you until he finally fell asleep.

You smiled, taking the cup and another cigarette he had lit after the first from his hand — extinguishing it in the ash tray. Grabbing a blanket you had lying nearby, you wrapped it around his shoulders before cuddling back up against him and placing another kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Cody

You could immediately see something wasn't quite right when Cody — one of the most organized and orderly people you knew — was slouching and leaning against the side of your building as you opened the door.

His expression was hidden under his helmet but you could perfectly image the tired smile and dark circles under his eyes as his head tilted to look at you.

"Hey," he muttered, voice strained and tired from shouting order for the past few months since you last saw him. You didn't reply, instead pulling him into your apartment and shutting the door behind you.

There were weak protest coming from him but you ignored it as you led him into the living room and plopped him down onto the couch. The fact he didn't even pull himself together and stayed sprawled out on the cushions told you enough about his state.

"Mhh don't go," Cody mumbled, holding onto your hand as you tried to pull away.

"I'll be back in a second, okay?" You smiled as he finally let go and went over to your windows, closing the shutters and then dimming the light.

Just as you promised, you went back to him and your fingers found the latch at the bottom of his helmet as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. As soon as you pulled his helmet off and placed it next to him, he buried his face in your mid-section, groaning quietly.

Chuckling, you ran your fingers through his hair. It had gotten longer, way past the usual regulation cut he favoured. And letting your fingers travel lower, you brushed over a slight stubble on his jaw — everything so unlike Cody.

You began wondering about the last few months and how hard the campaign must have been on him if the man who prided himself on keeping up with everything, including personal grooming, looked like this.

Another groan from your partner pulled your attention back to him and that was when you got an idea.

"Cody?"

"Mh."

"Come on, let me take care of you for a bit," you said, trying to get him standing again. Cody followed your lead with another groan, more than content to remain sitting but he never could deny you anything.

With slow steps, you made your way to the bathroom. Setting him down on a stool, you made to gather the few tools you needed; hair clippers, shaving cream and a razor.

You weren't an expert at doing this for someone else but you figured it wouldn't be too difficult and so you picked up the hair clipper and started cutting the pieces that had grown too long.

While you were doing the back, Cody had his head pressed against your thigh, forcing you to work upside down but at least he was tired enough to stay still. The front was more difficult, eliciting more protests from the Marshall Commander at being forced to separate.

But he was easily subdued when you placed a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. Cody quickly turned his head to capture your lips and steal a proper kiss from you, though it was more of a press of chapped lips against yours.

You smiled against him, pulling away again as he wrapped his arms around your legs, looking up at you with tired but soft eyes.

"I love you," Cody whispered.

"I love you too. Now hold still, I need to finish this." You placed another kiss on his nose before clipping the last of his hair and moving onto his stubble. Cody grumbled at the cold of the shaving cream but once you managed to get him clean-shaven again, he was visibly happier, especially after a warm shower to wash any lingering dirt away.

After getting out those soft pyjamas Cody loved and helping him dress, the two of you cuddled up in bed with Cody having his arms wrapped around your middle and his face pressed firmly against your chest as he finally fell asleep.

Mayday

Even after all these years of living far away from Barton IV in a much warmer place, Mayday still hated the cold.

It wasn't a particular obvious hate to others around him but he'd talked about it often enough with you that you saw the subtle signs whenever the colder season came around — and the two of you were already living in a place where you could barely call the cold season winter.

Still, whenever those days came around, you made it a point to take care of him.

And after a day of searching for everything Mayday could love, you were standing at the stove in the kitchen, stirring some soup.

"Mhh what are you making?" Mayday walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his nose against your neck. It sent a little shiver down your spine at how cold it was.

"Your favourite soup," you replied, taking the pot off of the stove.

"What's the occasion?"

"I just felt like it." Smiling, you turned around in his embrace and placed a small peck on his cheek before disentangling yourself from him and plating the food for the both of you.

The two of you ate and traded stories about your lives while the sun outside slowly began to set. While Mayday began clearing the dishes, you went into the living room to set up a cosy space for the rest of the night.

First, you lit a few scented candles around the room and a nice vanilla scent immediately filled the space. Then you moved onto actually making it comfortable, gathering various fluffy blankets you could find around the house and arranging them in something that almost resembled a nest in the middle of the floor.

It wasn't long then until Mayday joined you, raising a brow at your little nest but settling down with a chuckle as you grabbed his hand.

"What's all this for now?" he asked as he sat cross-legged in front of you.

"Can't I just spend a lovely evening with my partner?" You scooted closer to him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"Well of course you can," he mused, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Great. I wanna do your hair." You pulled away from him only to sit behind his back, your legs on either side of him.

"Go ahead, it's all yours," Mayday replied. With his consent, you reached up and began running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. Mayday groaned slightly, leaning his head back.

Reaching for a comb then, you began brushing his hair section by section, making sure not to tug too much whenever you encountered knots. Mayday had some of the softest hair you've ever seen and the little curls that had returned after you got him the proper products were the cutest things in your eyes.

After finishing combing his hair, and trading a few soft kisses, you began braiding little sections of his hair and tying them off with a hair ties of various colours.

"Done," you proclaimed after a while and Mayday blinked a few times, having dozed off.

Without a word, he turned around and pulled you against his chest and then lay down with you on top of him.

"You're so warm," he muttered, still sleepy. "And I know exactly what you're trying to do here. But… I can't complain."

"Well, it seems to be working," you replied.

"It is." Mayday leaned in, connecting your lips in a soft kiss before drifting off to sleep fully.

[freesiadotcom]

the moon is literally my favourite circle

[freesiadotcom]

OOH THATS A REALLY GOOD PICK!

[freesiadotcom]

YESSSSSS

[freesiadotcom]

amazing. brilliant.

[freesiadotcom]

that is so cute

[freesiadotcom]

unending peace and joy....

[parsnippety]

@joy-and-whimsy-official

[joy-and-whimsy-official]

Joy and whimsy detected! Circles are joyful and whimsical!

[ospreyonthemoon]

My favourite circle is the one i share with you :)

[sometiktoksarevalid]

[captainsbones-deactivated201811]

@resistancepilots well here it is

—————————————-

something inside cody is in shock. he’s been raised like his brothers knowing that he is expendable fodder for the jedi to throw at the battle droids, but here is proof he is wrong.

the proof is when his general puts himself between the droids and his men. the proof is when his jedi takes the time to get to know his men, all by their chosen names, and encourages their interests outside of war and violence, treats them as people as if it was the only perspective that could ever occur to him

cody, growing to love and respect his jedi, and then having one of the few things he owned, his free will, stripped away and forced to fire at his force-bright Brother

cody gets order 66. one part of his brain is going good soldiers follow orders the other part is going fuck that shit. cody, with a massive fucking headache, looks at his men, looks at obi wan and boga, right in the thick of the fighting as always, never a traitor, always a friend, and the fuck that shit part of his brain wins.

they finish the battle, cody’s head aching and aching, and obi wan strides over to cody with a pleased grin, because finally, finally, the war may end, and they will be free.

and stops.

stops and ever so gently removes cody’s bucket, wipes away the blood collecting under cody’s nose, smooths away the horrific pain with that infinite compassion, and asks “what’s wrong?”

and cody tells him, of the angry, shouting compulsion both alien and terribly familiar. waxer and boil (both alive and well) find the two of them standing absolutely still, their general’s hands gentle at their commander’s temples, searching—

and obi wan pulls away with a broken gasp when he finds it, that Dark twisted thing so deep inside cody’s brain. turns to waxer, who steps forward easily, ever trusting, and obi wan finds it buried deep in him too, and boil, who bites back questions

obi wan, standing there, eyes wide with horror at what has been done to his men, so open to the force that when the first of his people die he feels it as if it his own

and then the next, and the next, and the next—

snatches in between—cody’s worried face, armoured hands on him, gentle and not murderous as he feels on his fellow jedi—

—the sterile grey of a gun ship’s ceiling, his head cradled carefully in waxer’s grip—the force cries out, plo koon has returned Home—

—cody above him, eyes full of pain, more blood at his nose, in his ears, obi wan hears Good soldiers follow orders but cody swallows and replaces it with Good soldiers do the right thing—

—aayla secura, falling under blaster fire, no warning given, confusion and pain—

—the younglings—

—obi wan, half in the force, burning with his people, reaches out to cody, finds that dark Thing and fills it with his light, and cody stands taller. the bleeding stops.

The traitor is dead, he hears as if through water, cody reporting in a flat tone to a hooded figure, one obi wan knows—

—he isn’t dead, but it feels as if he may as well be, each death ripping him apart, oh Force, save us—

—the medbay, and the medics, and the dark ugly thing waiting inside them, and obi wan, half blind in pain, not fully grounded in his body, reaches out to their presences and fills the chips with light until they whimper and die—

—all across the ships, the 212th staggering with sharp pain in their skulls and then a wave of Warmth, banishing a weight they never realized they had carried all their short lives—

—obi wan, his men free, falls back, and he dreams.

cody, watching his general lying absolutely still on the medbay bed, breath so shallow he might as well be dead. every so often the room ship trembles, and somehow cody knows another jedi has fallen, that it is the force mourning for them through obi wan.

the men, confused and even scared, as he tells them of betrayal—not of their jedi, but of the chancellor, sith and murderer. but each one of them raises their blaster in a salute, pledging with pure free will to protect and follow their jedi, whom each of them had in some way been saved by

blood debt, cody hears whispered. friend, guardian, and brother.

the vod’e claim their jedi as one of their own: a pledge of loyalty and love, an honour so rarely given. when obi wan finally works his way free of the force’s misery, his shattered shields patched together with the offered strength of his men, the 212th stands by him. they call him brother, and he is humbled.

the 212th find more of their brothers, and obi wan burns away the Dark chips inside them, and they join the 212th, full of grief because their jedi were not so lucky—

obi wan pulls the clones who were so cruelly forced to murder their jedi and tells them that they are forgiven. not just by him, but by their jedi, who he can feel as pure light burning protectively around their men

palpatine loses more and more of his pawns, and he sends vader, who is still so fragile in the Darkness, tainted with the blood of his people but not yet unreachable. vader finds obi wan surrounded by clones, all of them burning with protective fury both for their general and for their brothers in the 501st, still slaves—

rex and ahsoka, who had joined the 212th after fleeing mandalore, especially full of pain—ahsoka steps forward, beside her grandmaster and friend, and together they convince anakin of palpatine’s lies, rex and cody flanking them, testimonials to the slavery anakin is supporting

anakin, so fearful, his lightsaber lit; anakin, who argues that the jedi tossed ahsoka away

ahsoka, so young, still hurt, who tells him that she now realises palpatine had been truly responsible, that the jedi were wrong but so is slaughtering them. she puts her sabers down. “i will not fight you.”

rex raises his blaster subtly, a clear message that he will fight his general if it will save his commander and brothers.

obi wan, who looks at anakin and Knows him, who turns to cody and gives him his lightsaber. who steps forward, right in range of anakin’s saber, and the 212th and their allies bristle—

and obi wan reaches forward, places his hand gentle on anakin’s shoulder, anakin’s blade centimetres from his heart, and tells him things like i love you and i’m sorry and this is not the way both aloud and in the force, where all things are open and true. the darkness anakin wears around him burns obi wan, and still he holds on

ahsoka, too, steps forward, and she draws her master into a hug, anakin’s lightsaber extinguishing, and the lightside of the force, strengthened by their presence, shows anakin the truth

obi wan, cheeks wet with tears, shows anakin how to burn away the darkness in the 501st, how to free them the way anakin had been freed. they march on coruscant, padme and bail backing them, and when anakin, obi wan and ahsoka face palpatine, their men (their brothers) with them, all burning in the light, well—

palpatine doesn’t stand a chance.

luke and leia grow up with their family intact, with many many uncles, their big sister ahsoka, and obi wan, who adores them. the jedi who survived return home, and they put their fallen people to rest, and the temple is cleansed. no restless ghosts, no echoing pain, simply love and light, and generations of jedi in the force watching over them.

the jedi order is reformed, and the veil of darkness over coruscant is swept away, and the clones are finally, truly free. cody and the 212th stick by obi wan in some way or another (for a long time, too, for the kaminoans see obi wan coming and scramble to fix the clones’ rapid aging)

the galaxy is saved, for once upon a time the vod’e named a jedi their brother

[tanobatcher]

Hello, can i ask this here but for the tiktok vid🥺 (im shy and this is the first time i request someone's cuz your writing is too tempting)

'how will the clones act when you jump on their back out of nowhere' i think it's kinda cute 🥹🥹 i think i saw this trend on tiktok.

P.s. I really really loves your HCs and also your oc fics on ao3😭💕 You write their personalities literally PERFECT! Thank you for all your hard work and being a backbone of clones-girlies🥺💝💗🎀💗🎀💗💝

clones when you jump on their back (my headcanons) a/n: this is so sweet thank youu! i clutch my heart every time someone mentions my oc fics, i appreciate this so much! i tried to look for this trend on tiktok but i couldn't find it, idk if it's just not trending anymore lolol lowk that's my fault for not seeing this sooner, so my apologies!! i assume that you wanted this to be a video but im lowkey beefing w the tiktok algorithm/guidelines rn so i hope it’s ok that i just posted this here <3

gn reader warnings: some maturity for fives’ part lol

the bad batch

hunter has the instinct to worry about you even though this is just an innocent prank. he squeezes the underside of your thighs when you wrap your legs around him and rest the side of your face against his backside. “you feeling alright?” he asks softly, rubbing slow circles just below your ass, “tired?” you giggle at his concern and shake your head. kissing the back of his neck, you tell him, “just felt like surprising you.” he chuckles under his breath and starts walking forward, carrying you to wherever you need to go. “consider me surprised, then.”

tech is caught off guard but still prepared to react. he drops everything he’s holding to make sure you don’t slip off, and his hands wrap around the back of your thighs firmly. he doesn’t seem to care that his datapad and random tools clatter to the ground, more focused on you as he says, “well this is certainly a surprise.” you lean over his shoulder and kiss him on the cheek, laughing softly. “sorry, did i scare you?” he shakes his head and calmly bends to the floor to pick up his belongings with you still on his back like you weigh nothing to him. “not at all,” he smiles to himself.

wrecker is built for any surprise weight; he’s like a wall when you jump on him, unfazed other than his loud laughter as he grabs your ass to push you up higher. he loves when you sneak up on him to give him any sort of affection, it’s these little moments that he cherishes every day. “hold on tight,” he warns you humorously, and you’re unsure why until he starts using you as a workout, showing off with effortless lunges and squats to remind you that he’s your big strong man.

crosshair catches you without so much of a twitch in his expression, using one arm to hook under your knees as the other balances his sniper against his body. “careful,” he drawls, “you’ll hurt yourself.” you nuzzle your nose affectionately against the side of his face, whispering, “not if you don’t drop me.” he smirks and loosens his grip on your leg ever so slightly, causing the smallest slip that makes you grab onto his shoulders instinctively. but you know he would never actually let you fall.

echo reacts with wide eyes and adjusts his stance to anticipate your weight, laughing, “woah, alright…” as you wrap yourself around him from behind. he glances at you over his shoulder with a softening gaze. “something get you excited or are you just happy to see me?” you lean forward and catch his lips in a brief kiss before pressing your forehead to his. “just happy to see you,” you whisper to him. he chuckles and kisses you again. “i was hoping you’d say that.”

commanders

wolffe doesn’t have a huge reaction; you almost expect him to be annoyed at first, if anything, but he simply squeezes the back of your thighs as you get comfortable, quietly sinking into this moment. he’s not the type to melt into touch that easily—you’re the exception, and you’re extra glad that you are when he silently tilts his head against yours. he closes his eyes, completely still other than his heart that thrums hard and strong in his chest. you feel the quick pace, the sign that you get him this riled up even though he’s good at hiding it. but his body doesn’t lie, and it fits perfectly against yours.

fox looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows and says, “can i help you?” in that stern tone of his, but you’re used to his irritable nature, and you always do well to calm it with a soft kiss to his forehead. “would it kill you to be a little romantic from time to time?” you tease him, pinching his cheek. his gaze softens as a laugh escapes his exhale. “it might,” he mutters and takes your arms to wrap them around his neck, making sure you’re holding onto him tight.

cody’s crazy combat instincts kick-in, but he’s a lot more gentle with you than the droids he deals with on the battlefield. you squeal as he flips you over his shoulder and catches you before you hit the ground, carrying you bridal style. you stare at him in disbelief, “what the hell?” and he chuckles a little sheepishly before kissing your forehead. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” you circle your arms around his neck. “i’ll forgive you if you kiss me again.” his lips quirk up in amusement, and he squeezes your body into his chest to feel you closer, kissing you deeper this time.

501st

rex chuckles and asks, “what’s gotten you so excited?” you lean closer with an innocent sing-song. “nothing…” and he turns over his shoulder to look at you, raising his eyebrows and smiling in amusement. this gives you the perfect opportunity to lower your mouth onto his, and he hums under his breath as he deepens the kiss, angling his head to catch your lips wider, but he can only move his neck so far. “come down here and give me a real kiss,” he murmurs.

fives pushes up on your legs immediately, grinning ear to ear as your arms come around his neck. “legs not working today, huh?” he snickers under his breath, and you know it’s a dirty joke with the cheeky depth of his voice and the way his fingers slowly inch up your inner thighs from the back, tracing dangerously near the soreness from last night. you roll your eyes and drop your fist to his hard shoulder in scorn, but he just laughs louder and holds you close.

kix smiles, happy to feel your weight against him like a protective, affectionate shell. your hands are splayed over his chest, and he reaches back to pat them softly, intertwining your fingers lazily to bring them to his mouth for gentle kisses. they feel ticklish, brushing over your skin with careful precision, like you’re a delicate little thing and he doesn’t want to hurt you. he breathes out a noise of surprised laughter when you start touching him under his chin and near his jawline, scratching and caressing as you both get lost in the intimacy of this moment.

jesse is more easily startled than he lets on, and his dramatic ass acts like you just tried to tackle him to the ground. he holds you strong and steady, though, looking up at you with adrenaline widening his eyes. “give me a warning next time,” he laughs. “what’s the fun in that?” you tease, leaning down to kiss him. his eyes flutter shut as he melts into your kiss, and he thinks he could definitely get used to this kind of surprise.

hardcase feels you leap onto his back and grabs the underside of your thighs, hoisting you up against him more securely. and then, like the burst of energy he is, he takes off running with you in his arms. you laugh and squirm against him, squealing, “hardcase—put me down!” but he doesn’t until you give him a kiss on the cheek, and even then he still has a few tricks up his sleeve, waiting for your feet to hit the ground again before he turns around and surges toward you, bending down with his arms coming around your waist to toss you over his shoulder playfully.

request guidelines | fic list | tumblr hc list | tiktok hc list

[worm-strung-string]

Guys we can’t have two Alpha-17’s in the room, the bigger one will make a comment about how in nature the bigger fish eating the smaller fish and smaller Alpha-17 will take that as the threat it is

[cc1010fox]

Jango: Alpha-17, we need to talk about one of your trainees. Alpha-17: ...It's Fox, isn't it? Jango: Whichever one is loudly proclaiming he could outshoot me while in earshot. Alpha-17, sighing: I'll tell him to shut his-- Jango: It's not just that. Alpha-17: ... Jango: Last week, he told another clone it felt good to "still be young and hot", then looked directly at me... Alpha-17, rushing off: Excuseme,sir. FOX, ARE YOU BULLYING PRIME!? YOU'LL NEVER GET OUT OF FRESHER DUTY, DO YOU HEAR ME!? Kal: One of your clones was bullying you? Jango, hiding his face: ...Did he really have to put it like that?

[t9909-g]

yay

[andi-1oh]

some rexes! ...rexi? rexen? many rex