#f!reader fic

[vodika-vibes]

Hopelessly Devoted

Summary: Wolffe is pretty sure that he’s sick. Why else would his heart race and his face heat whenever he sees the cute barista who lives in the apartment next to him. But, when he tells his brothers his theory they just laugh and tell him he’s definitely sick. Love sick.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 1288

Warnings: Reader is kind of awkward towards the end and babbles at Wolffe

A/N: I had an idea, and I think it's adorable and kind of funny. I hope you all like it~

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“Morning Wolffe~” A familiar sing-song voice chirps from behind him as his neighbor across the hall steps out of her apartment, “You’re leaving for work early today.”

Wolffe glances at her over his shoulder, and hopes that his face isn’t as red as it feels like it is, “Yeah. Comet is having a crisis.” He rolls his eyes as he says it. Comet is always having a crisis. That’s what happens when you flirt as much as he does.

“Oh no!” Her pretty lips, painted a vibrant red this morning, turn up into a smile that she lifts her hand to hide. Her nails are the same shade of red. “More girl troubles?”

“He always has girl troubles.”

A muffled laugh slips from her, and she presses her hand fully against her mouth to try to muffle it even more.

“It’s alright, you can laugh. I certainly do.”

“No,” She drops her hand, “I think it’s sweet that he’s trying so hard.” Still, her lips are twitching with repressed laughter.

“It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Don’t say that! It’s...it’s adorable.”

Wolffe makes a face, pulling a laugh from her. “Please don’t call my brother adorable. He’s far, far too old for that.”

“Nonsense, no one is too old to be adorable.”

“That might be true for you ladies. But men are only adorable under the age of 4, and over the age of 80.”

“Is that right? So what are you between the ages of 4 and 79?”

“Assholes, usually.”

His comment surprises her so much that she drops her keys as she bursts into laughter, and Wolffe feels his lips curl up in pleasure.

He did that. He made her laugh like that.

Not bad for a guy who was once accused of having a stick shoved up his ass.

“You have the closing shift today?”

“Actually, I’m on vacation. Well, stay-cation.” She stoops and picks up her keys, before shoving them into the canvas bag she calls her purse, “It’s not like I can afford to travel, after all.”

“Still, must be nice being able to sleep in.”

“I’ll let you know if it every happens,” she jokes as she makes sure her door is locked and then turns to look at him properly, “I’m actually heading to my sister’s place. She’s 6 months pregnant and she’s having a crisis.”

“Yeah? A real one or a Comet one?”

Her eyes sparkle, like she’s just heard a great joke, “She ran out of pickles.”

A bark of laughter falls from Wolffe as his head tilts back, “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

“Doesn’t she have a husband to run errands like that?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She rolls her eyes, “Apparently he’s visiting family. On Naboo.”

“I’m fairly sure you said that your brother-in-law is from Ryloth.”

“He is.”

“Ah.” Wolffe pauses, “You know, we could always hook your sister up with my brother and they can have their crises together.”

“Ooh, don’t tempt me.” She leans against the wall, “I love my sister, but she’s being intentionally obtuse about this.”

“Well, she’s pregnant.”

“The fact that it’s a valid excuse only irritates me more.” She admits wryly.

“What do your folks say?” Wolffe asks as he leans against the wall opposite of her. Comet can wait. They have, like, a million brothers if he needs help immediately.

“Oh, they say,” She clears her throat and pinches her nose to give herself a nasally tone, “It’s your sister’s life, if she wants to ruin it with a cheater’s baby it’s her business.”

“Wow, they suck.”

“Eh, I lost the parent lottery, it happens.” She falls silent for a moment, her hand coming up to fiddle with the zipper of her coat, “Anyway, Wolffe, are you busy this evening?”

Wolffe feels his heart skip a beat, “I shouldn’t be. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” She drags the word out slowly, as if she’s trying to buy time to figure out what she’s going to say, “There’s a movie marathon this evening. All five parts of the Monster-In-Law series is going to be playing, and, as everyone knows, movie marathons are better appreciated with company—”

“I’ve never seen them,” Wolffe says lightly as she trails off, and he’s rewarded with her entire face brightening.

“Oh, they’re awful! The acting is atrocious, the effects are obviously fake, and the writing is very cliché, but I love them all the same.” She finally releases her zipper, waving her hands around her in her enthusiasm.

Wolffe can’t help but think that she’s perfect.

“A-anyway! I was planning on making a homemade lasagna, which is a lot of food for one person, and, if you’re interested, you can watch them with me and have dinner with me...I mean, if you want.”

A slow grin crosses Wolffe’s face, “Are you asking me out on a date, sweetheart?”

This particular comment is rewarded by a look of flustered embarrassment sliding across her face, “I—well...yeah, sort of. If you want. But it doesn’t have to be! You can just hang out as friends if you’re not into the whole, you know, dating thing.” She fiddles with her fingers and her gaze darts around the hallway, focused on anything but him, “And, like, you’re so nice to me, and you laugh at my bad jokes. Not to mention you’re handsome and I always feel safe around you—”

She’s rambling.

Wolffe’s grin grows as he listens to her babble, and he can almost feel his heart swell, “I’d love to.”

“—And you...wait, what?” Her gaze darts to his gaze, and she blinks at him, confused.

“I said, I’d love to go on a date with you. Even if it’s a bad movie marathon and homemade lasagna.” Wolffe repeats.

“I...oh.”

“That’s all you have to say?” He asks, his grin widening even more.

“Uh, well, to be honest I didn’t expect to get this far.”

“What? You though I was going to say no?”

“I mean, yeah. Kinda.”

“Well, I was going to ask you on a date if you hadn’t asked me.” He shrugs, and she pouts at him.

“You mean, if I had waited you would have asked me?”

“Sure. But you asked first, so—” He shrugs.

“I, wait! I can take it back so you can!” She blurts, and Wolffe laughs.

He pushes off the wall and walks over to her, pressing his hand against the wall next to her head, and he leans in so his lips are hovering over hers, “No take-backs allowed.”

He’s so close that he’s able to her her gaze flicker to his lips, before darting back up to his eyes. And it’s tempting to kiss her. So tempting.

But, tragically, he has a little self-control.

“Now, I need to go and help my brother out of the hole he dug himself in, and you need to go buy your sister pickles before she has a meltdown.”

“Uh, yeah. Right. That is a thing that I need to do!”

He has a lot of self-control, but he’s just a man all the same, so Wolffe leans in and kisses the corner of her lips. “I’ll see you this evening.” He murmurs against her skin, and then he pulls away and takes a step back.

She looks even more flustered.

Score one point for Wolffe.

“Also, sweetheart, I really like the red lipstick. I look forward to see if it’s smudge proof.”

There’s a flicker of confusion on her face, though as he backs down the hall, he sees that look fade into realization, and both of her hands come up to cover her face in embarrassment.

Another point to him.

Tonight is going to be perfect.

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[coffeeandbatboys]

His New Religion (Wolffe x Fem!Reader)

for my friend @alegendoftomorrow in the @cloneficgiftexchange!

A/N: So this ended up summing up a lot of what happened before, during and after Right Here Waiting and its wedding sequel, part 2, which I know Legend had read, so my brain took the idea and ran with it.

Warnings: a little bit of angst, some awkward fluffies and a badly summed up slow burn with a happy ending

Prompt(s): “But somewhere there's a light//A sign that it's alright//I find it by your side” (New Religion, The Heydaze),

“Always thought those feelings, they were stories not made for me // It's terrifying, but I'm pretty certain it's worth it” || “I didn't know you were something I could need // Until you, until you loved my everything // The good, the bad, the in between, all of me” || “But all the hell we've been through had a purpose // Together we are chaos and it's perfect” (I Didn’t Know, Sofia Carson)

Wordcount: 856

If someone had sat cadet cc-3636 down and told him that he'd be living with the love of his life one day…

…He would have broken out laughing.

And yet Wolffe, the grumpy, no-nonsense commander of the 104th, had melted like a puddle the first night he spent in your embrace.

The two of you had met during a whirlwind campaign. You had needed him to sign some forms to accept supply restocks, and he’d obliged with a grumble, voicing his negative remarks about ‘redundant protocols’.

The next meeting happened in the mess hall. You’d been covering for a friend in the food line when you caught his sharp, analyzing gaze. With a blush and a smile, you served him his rations, a begrudgingly mumbled ‘thanks’ reaching your ears.

A few weeks later and it was in the medbay. You'd dropped a box on your foot, earning yourself a broken toe, while Wolffe had garnered a blaster graze to the bicep. He was reserved as usual, but engaged in some awkward, short-lived conversation about your odd jobs in the GAR while the medics patched the two of you up.

After that, you didn't see him for a long while.

And one night you found him at the door of your quarters, pacing; deciding whether he should knock or not. That was the night he had first asked you out on date.

Shore leave dates turned into nights curled in each others’ loving embrace and soft mornings filled with nothing but bliss. Harrowing weeks apart turned into joyful reunions and a growing love between you.

And one night, all of that became your beloved Wolffe falling to a knee and asking for the honor of your hand in marriage. You'd never given a second thought about saying yes.

You vividly remember after that weekend the way he kissed you goodbye and promised to return safely.

But as fate would have it, he was taken away from you. The Empire rose out of the Republic's ashes, throwing everyone's lives into pure chaos and cutting the ties between you and your love.

You didn't see your fiancé for a year. Instead, you'd joined a network of rogue clones that led you to Rex, and had began working with them.

Then there was Teth, where you saw him again, but not as an ally. You were glad to see Wolffe, despite the reunion being marred by grief and despair. But oh, how you wanted to reach out and bring him back into your arms, even knowing he wasn't the same.

Weeks passed, and he seemed to make his decision when Rex and Echo brought him back to the new base. He danced around the subject for a while, afraid to find out what you would say. But one look into your hopeful eyes was all it took for him to break down in your arms.

The two of you wed in a simple ceremony, surrounded by his brothers, who had become just as much family to you. In that moment, the trials of the past gave way to a hopeful future, with you and Wolffe facing the challenges of a tumultuous galaxy together.

Now today, as you look out into the setting sun, you smile. Who would have thought that a love tested by loyalty, betrayal and heartache would heal in such a way?

Wolffe hums behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as a kiss is pressed behind your ear.

“If you keep staring at the sun, Mesh’la,” he remarks, squeezing you a little. “—you'll go blind.”

You laugh brightly and wiggle around to face him. He smiles and let's his lips brush across your cheeks, nose and forehead, before landing on your own in a tender kiss.

“I suppose I have something better to stare at here,” you tease. The golden hour glow highlights his best features. His hair has begun to gray at the temples, silver strands fading into his thick curls, and his cybernetic eye glitters in the sunlight. His jaw bears a little bit of stubble; a deliberate choice, you assume.

“Oh?” He asks, forehead resting gently upon yours.

“Yeah,” you answer, reaching up to caress his scar. His eyes flutter closed.

“What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours, huh?

You smile. “I was just thinking. About us.” Your head rests against his shoulder as a warm breeze dusts both of you.

He hums deeply in acknowledgment, a kiss being placed to your temple.

“Also known as: a scratch and dent clone falls in love with a smart, caring, drop dead gorgeous woman?”

You laugh lightly and shake your head. “More like, How a man and woman’s love made it through all sorts of trials.”

Wolffe’s face falls a little, but you cup his cheek to turn his gaze toward you.

“And what happened is in the past. We have all the time in the world now, yeah?”

He smiles ever so slightly and holds you close. “Yeah Mesh'la. That sounds perfect.”

And he thinks now that he’s had a taste of love, he can get used to it for the long run.

[vodika-vibes]

Fight Night

Summary: Fox isn’t stupid. He knows his girl is hiding something from him. The bruises are hard to hide after all. But all of his digging has amounted to nothing. A part of him thinks that she’s being threatened by someone due to her relationship with him, while the other part of him is slowly becoming convinced she’s cheating on him. And so, he throws himself into his work.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 2227

Warnings: Mentions of slavery, organ trafficking, and other stuff you'd find on a black market type situation. The reader found herself in a bad situation. Some angst.

A/N: So, as so many people have been living for the idea of Fox with a Pit Fighter Girlfriend, I decided to write it. But I've also been binge-watching Criminal Minds (Because Derek Morgan is fine, and so is Luke Alvez) so while this was supposed to be a cute story, it turned into something else. I hope you all like it.

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Fox is in a foul mood.

Has been in a foul mood for the better part of a month. But today is especially bad. He’s already snapped at Hound for something that isn’t his fault, and ordered Thorn to take his men and do more PT because one of his men tripped and spilled his caf over everything.

He’s just cross.

And it’s not even their fault.

His girl, his cyare, the love of his life, has been lying to him. Lying about where she’s going. About what she’s doing. She’s not a very good liar, either. So her lies are painfully obvious.

Not that long ago, Fox would have been confident in saying that his cyare would never keep secrets from him. But, here he is. Seething at his desk because his cyare has been lying to him.

He pushes his hand through his hair, his memory already drifting back to the dozens of healing bruises covering her body, and he scowls at his desk. Surely if someone was hurting her, she’d tell him, right? Why would she hide that?

Unless, of course, the person hurting her was another boyfriend.

His grip tightens around his pen, tight enough that the plastic cracks under his fingers. Luckily for the pen, his office door slides open before he can actually break it.

“Commander,” Thire stands in the doorway, his helmet hanging loosely from his hand.

“What?”

“We’ve managed to track down the Shadow Hawks Fight Club.”

Fox’s head snaps up from where he’s staring at a datapad on his desk, “You found them? How?” The Shadow Hawks are an illegal fighting club that the Guard has been hunting for months now. In part because a lot of illegal activity happens there.

Thire shrugs, “An anonymous tip came across the tip line early this morning.”

“And we’re only just now hearing about it?”

“Do you have any idea how many tips come across the tip line over the course of a day? We got to it as soon as we could.”

“Well, better late than never, I suppose.” Fox pushes his seat away from his desk and reaches for his helmet, “Grab as many people as you can. A lot of people are going to be there, and a large number of them are going to be fighters.”

“Yes sir. Everyone is getting ready as we speak.”

Which is how, several hours later, Fox finds himself with three dozen men of the Guard sitting outside a worn down warehouse not far from The Works. They watched as hundreds of people filed into the warehouse.

“They have a nice racket going here, don’t they?” Thorn asks, as he watches a pair of women pay the man standing at the door, “They have entrance fees, and then whatever money they get from the fights and the gambling that goes on inside—”

“Yeah, well. It’s all illegal, so tough shit for them.”

“Do you even care about the illegal fights and gambling?” Thorn asks.

“No.” Fox replies honestly, “But I do care about the slavery, hit men, assassins, and organ trading. How sure are we that the pit fighters are here willingly?”

“We’re not.”

“Lovely.” Fox drawls, he takes a moment to wish he was at home, with his head propped on his cyare’s lap while they watch one of those silly cartoons she loves so much, and then he sighs and activates his comm, “We move in 10. Everyone get in position.”

Fox both loves and hates this part. The waiting is the worst. Sure, he has training to make it less miserable, but he can’t help but run through a mental list of all the things that could possibly go wrong...as well as a list of things that couldn’t possibly happen but he still has a plan for.

10 minutes feels like an eternity, but when the clock hits 2300, battle calm washes over Fox and he gives the order to start the operation.

Now, Fox isn’t the type of man who gets rattled easily. He’s not. He’s a Marshal Commander, and he was put in charge of Triple Zero for a reason. He’s not prone to lashing out—barring certain situations—like Wolffe, and he’s not as curt as Bly.

It’s just not in his nature to get thrown by the unexpected.

However, when he breaches the warehouse, and sees the pit fighters, he falters. He’s not sure who the male opponent is, but the female opponent he knows as well as he knows himself.

This is the secret his cyare has been keeping? Really?

Her hair is pushed out of her face with a red headband he bought her, and she’s wearing a matching sports bra and shorts, a pair he’s never seen before. Her hands are wrapped with white bandages, though as he weaves through the panicking crowd, he sees that the bandages are stained pink.

He’s always known his cyare is stronger than she looks, her frame solid and sturdy in a way that people don’t expect from women, but this? This is not at all what he expected.

He turns his glare on the man standing next to the door into the cage, though he can’t see Fox’s glare, “Open it.”

The man, the organizer of the fights based on the velvet suit he’s wearing, draws himself up to his full height, the top of his head barely reaching Fox’s shoulder, “You have no right—!”

“These fights are illegal,” Fox interrupts, “As is the gambling, not to mention all of the other activities that happen in the basement. You’re lucky you’re being allowed to walk out of here on your own two feet. Open the cage.”

“W-we have nothing to do with the stuff downstairs—“

“Yeah? I don’t believe you, and neither will anyone else.” Fox grabs the keys and shoves the promoter towards one of his brothers, who slaps some binders on him and sits him with the other organizers, several of whom look like they’re crying.

All of the fighters have been arrested as well, save for the pair in the cage ring, and Fox sees a medic heading over to tend to the few that are injured. Good, the last thing they need is to learn that the fighters are victims here and get accused of mistreating them.

He throws open the cage door and steps into the ring, “Are the two of you going to fight me?”

His cyare has the grace to look sheepish, her gaze drifting to the side as she lifts her hands into the air to show she’s unarmed. Apparently taking his cue from her, her opponent does the same thing.

Fox elects to arrest the man first and he allows Thorn to take him to the other fighters as he smacks a pair of binders around his cyare’s wrists, “You’re mad.” She says, her voice quiet.

“Am I?” Yes, actually. He is.

“I can explain.”

Fox twists her arm behind her back and attaches the binder around her wrist, “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Really? Behind my back?”

“Yeah, really. March.” Fox allows Thorn to take her to the rest of the fighters while he takes a moment to try and extinguish his anger. It’s not working.

“You good, vod?” Thorn asks a moment later.

“I’m so angry right now I think I might explode.” Fox replies flatly.

Thorn pauses, “Well, maybe let her explain before you torpedo your relationship with her? You’re definitely better with her, compared to being away from her.”

“That had been my plan, Thorn.”

“Oh. Good.”

That said, it takes several hours before Fox finishes up his work enough to be able to talk to his cyare. And, yeah, a part of it is because he’s so mad he doesn’t trust himself to not say something that will hurt her.

He pushes open his office door, now much calmer than he was when he first saw her tonight, and he pauses in the doorway.

Someone, likely Thire, supplied her with a set of blacks to wear over the clothes she had been wearing, and her headband was now wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet. Her head is propped up on her hand, and her gaze is locked on her datapad. He hears the familiar sound of one of her games drifting from the device.

Fox walks around her to sit at his desk, and he really looks at her. She has a bandage at her temple, both of her hands are wrapped in bandages, and her many bruises are covered in bacta.

“What were you thinking?” Fox blurts, unable to help himself, “Do you have any idea how dangerous—,” He pauses and takes a deep breath, “I didn’t come here to yell at you, cyare. I just want to understand.”

She still won’t look at him, and it’s starting to annoy him.

“Cyare, you don’t get to be mad at me when you fucked up.”

Her gaze flickers up to meet his, “Who says I fucked up?” That’s...surprisingly hostile.

“Do you enjoy fighting that much?” Fox asks.

“I enjoy the money.”

“I can find you a high paying job, cyare. One that doesn’t involve allowing yourself to have the shit beat out of you.” Fox points out, “And if you enjoy fighting, there’s an entire army of men who need regular hand to hand combat training—,” He runs his hand down his face, “I just want to understand, cyare. Why?”

“...Your name day is coming up and I wanted to buy you something nice.”

He sighs, “That’s sweet, cyare. But I need more than that. You lied to me. Repeatedly.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

She shifts in the seat, her gaze drifting back to the datapad in her hands, “It was only supposed to be one time,” She finally admits, “But after the first victory, I still didn’t have enough credits so I went back for a second. And then a third time. And after the third victory I did have enough credits and I wasn’t planning on going back, but—,” She trails off.

“But? But what?”

“...I didn’t know about the black market stuff until after the third fight.” Her voice is quiet. “I was told that my fights helped fund the black market stuff. I said I was done, that I wasn’t going to help fund slavery or organ trading or whatever. But it was too late. My name, just like all of the other fighters, is twined with the black market.”

“Cyare—,”

“We’re listed as benefactors, Fox. All of us.”

Fox sighs softly, he did think it was kind of strange that the only listed benefactors of the black market had been the pit fighters. And, as much as it pains him to admit it, it’s a clever ruse.

“Cyar’ika,” The pet name makes her wince, almost imperceptibly, “Why didn’t you say anything? I would have helped.”

She shrugs and picks at the bandage wrapped around her hand, “...was ashamed.”

“Why?”

“You’re the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant guard, and I was stupid enough to end up in this situation.” She waves her hand vaguely, “I didn’t want you to hate me for it.”

Fox leans back in his seat and stares at her for a long time. Long enough that she starts to shift in her seat. “I’m sorry, cyare.”

“...what for?”

“For making you feel like you can’t come to me when you’re in trouble.” He stands and walks over to her, before kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his, “I love you, you know that?”

“That just makes my fuck up even worse.” She mumbles.

“No, it doesn’t. You were scammed and lied to, cyare.”

“I know my name is on that list, Fox. I’m forever going to be known as a slaver and weapons dealer.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fox—,”

“The other pit fighters,” He interrupts, “Are they your friends?”

“I...well, yeah. We spent a lot of time with each other.”

“Then I will make sure that none of you get in trouble for this.”

“...I...how?”

“Never you mind that,” Fox presses a kiss to her bandage wrapped knuckles, “Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything.”

There’s a look on her face that makes him think that she wants to push for answers, but she holds her tongue. Instead she brushes her thumb across his jaw, “You don’t hate me?”

“I was mad, and hurt, that you lied to me. And that you were in such a dangerous situation.” Guilt slides across her face, and Fox leans up to kiss the corner of her lips, “And I’m still mad, but not at you. At the men and women who forced you into this position.”

“You’re going to do something dramatic, aren’t you?”

“Is that a problem?”

She releases a small breath, and then flashes him a tiny smile, “Sometimes I forget that you and your brothers are not the most sane.”

“And yet you love me all the same.”

“Yeah, I do.” She presses her hand against his cheek, “I’m sorry for lying, Fox.”

Finally, the last bit of anger towards his cyare vanishes, “It’s already forgiven.” Then he stands and properly catches her lips with his, “Did you really win all of your matches?”

She smiles against his lips, “Every single one.”

“Good.”

@heidnspeak

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[vodika-vibes]

Can I request Captain Rex x reader in a relationship and they call rex a pet name for the first time 👀 (Bonus if it's in front of his brothers) 💕

They Can Be Yours Too

Summary: You know where you stand with Rex, he’s made it very obvious to you that he’ll be with you or he’ll be with no one. You just wish you had thought about how large his family is before you agreed to date him.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 738

Warnings: Reader is a little anxious at the beginning

A/N: I decided to lump these two asks into one little snapshot of a day in the life of Rex and his cyare. I hope you all like it!

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“And you’re sure I look okay?” You ask as you you twist in front of the mirror, your eyes locked on your reflection as you look for anything that doesn’t look perfect. “Maybe I should change into the grey dress?”

“Cyar’ika, you look great.” Rex says from where he’s laying on the bed, not even looking at you, “You looked great in the blue dress, and the green one.”

“You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true?” Rex replies as he sits up to look at you, “Cyare, why are you all bent out of shape? What’s wrong?”

“I just want to look good, that’s all.”

His eyebrows creep up his forehead, “Yeah, I got that. I just don’t understand why. You never care about how you look.”

“That—!”

“You literally wore paint covered jeans on our first date.” He interrupts.

“...that’s true—”

“So, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“—What if they think I’m not good enough for you?” You ask, your voice small, and you cringe when Rex sighs, “o-or! What if I say something embarrassing and you never ever want to talk to me again!”

“That’s a little unrealistic,” Rex says as he stands and walks over to you, “But, since you seem genuinely concerned about this. If they think you’re not good enough for me, then I’ll simply have to beat the shit out of them.”

“That’s...a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“Nope.” His hands settle on your hips and he lightly tugs you away from the mirror, “And, honestly, it’s much more likely that my brothers are going to tell you embarrassing stories about my cadet years.”

“I bet you were adorable,” You reply as you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck.

Rex grins at you, “Oh, I was the cutest.” He leans in and presses his forehead against yours, “Finally, I can’t even go 24 hours without hearing your voice, so I would never stop talking to you. Ever.”

You close your eyes as you lean into him, drawing comfort from his warmth and his solid presence. “—okay, but—”

“No. No buts. You’re perfect. I’m a hot mess. If anything, they’re going to tell you that you can do better.” He kisses you quickly, and then presses a second, lingering, kiss against your lips. “Now, are you ready to go?”

“...Are you sure I shouldn’t change into the grey—?”

“Sweetheart! You’re killing me.” He squeezes your hips, “You look amazing, as always. I swear.”

Finally a tiny smile lifts your lips, “Alright, Rex. You convinced me.”

Half an hour later, Rex is guiding you through 79s to a large table near the back that’s surrounded by men in different colored armor. You see 212 orange, Coruscant Guard red, and the grey of the 104th.

“There you are, Rex.” Cody says as Rex pulls a chair out for you and allows you to sit at the table, “Was beginning to think you were going to run away and not introduce us to your girl.”

“Ha ha.” Rex rolls his eyes, “This is her,” He introduces you, and then glares at his brothers, “Be nice.”

“Wow, rude.” Fox drawls, before he grins at you, “Just know, this is the man you’re dating. A rude jackass.”

“He’s never been rude to me,” You reply with a tiny smile.

“And I wouldn’t be rude if you idiots were less idiotic.” Rex snarks, before he drops a kiss to the top of your head, “You want a drink, cyare?”

“Just a soda, please, babe?”

“Done.” He kisses your cheek, and then shoots a warning look at his brothers, and heads towards the bars.

“So, you and Rex have been dating for a while then?” Cody asks, a grin crossing his face, “Seeing as you call him babe.”

“Oh, well...a couple of months, now. He’s never said that it bothered him—”

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Wolffe replies as he leans back in his seat, “I can’t believe it took him months to introduce you to us.”

“Well, we do know all of his embarrassing stories,” Fox says lazily, “Speaking of embarrassing stories—”

You tilt your head to the side curiously.

“You wanna hear about the time Rex tried to dye his hair to match us, and ended up with orange hair?” Fox asks, “I have pictures.”

You muffle a giggle, “I’d love to.”

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[vodika-vibes]

wolffe and a medic reader sneaking around and get caught👀👀👀i beg

Red Handed

Summary: You love Wolffe, you really do. But he’s going to get you both in trouble. Again.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 720

Warnings: Uh, heavy making out. wolffe can't keep his hands to himself.

A/N: I'm not sure I like this, but I hope you do!

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“Wolffe,” His name falls from your lips in a breathy whisper that has his groaning and pressing harder against you.

“Say it again,” He murmurs against your throat, his teeth scraping down your throat with just enough pressure that you, helplessly, cling to his armor.

A breathless laugh falls from you, even as you tilt your head back, allowing him better access to your throat, “We’re gonna get caught.”

“Not if you’re quiet,” He peppers hot kisses up your throat and to your jaw, before he catches your lips with his, “No one will come looking for us, cyar’ika.”

“They always do.” You remind him, before you bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

“Don’t you want to spend time with me, Princess?” Wolffe coos against your ear, “It’s been so long since I’ve had you to myself—”

“That’s because we’re deployed,” Almost without your permission, your fingers move to the seals of his armor, and you deftly start to pop them, loosening his armor enough that he can tug it off.

“And?”

“And you’re the—oh my god—” A sudden bite on your collar steals your whole train of thought. You didn’t even notice him loosening your scrub top so he could reach your collar.

You hear Wolffe chuckle against you, “You gonna pray to me, sweetheart?” He asks, as he looks up at you from where he’s lazily kissing down your chest, his lips lingering in the valley between your breasts.

You definitely should have known better than to wear the tie on scrubs.

“Absolutely not,” Your voice is breathy. Too breathy.

“I’d believe you if you didn’t sound like that.” He lazily nips at the soft skin not covered by your bra, “But, I’m an amazing partner, so please. Continue what you were saying, angel.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yes, yes. And yet you love me anyway.” He grins against your skin again, “Go on, angel. What were you saying?”

“I was saying,” You struggle to regain your train of thought, “I’m a medic and I’m busy. And you’re the commander—”

“Uh-huh,” He sucks another mark just over your bra. Frankly, your surprised he hasn’t removed it yet. “And?”

“And people are going to be looking for you, Commander.”

His mismatched eyes flare with a familiar emotion, and you mentally curse yourself for calling him by his rank. After all, you know exactly what that does to him.

“Wait, Wolffe—”

“Oh no,” He kisses back up your chest so he’s able to catch your lips in a deep kiss, “I’m Commander now, remember?”

“It slipped,” You say against his lips.

“I love it when you slip.”

“That’s because you’re a pervert.”

“Not a pervert, just a healthy man with a gorgeous girlfriend, who deserves my undivided attention.”

Your fingers curl into the material of his blacks, and you press closer to him, “Undivided, huh?”

“Yeah,” Wolffe murmurs, “Undivided—”

Vaguely, you’re aware of the sound of a door opening behind Wolffe, but you pay it no mind...until you hear a strangled yelp. “Really, Commander?” Comet asks, his voice strangled, “Again?”

You peek around Wolffe’s shoulder, and muffle a giggle. Comet’s gaze is locked on the ceiling, and there’s color rising on his face.

Wolffe sighs, “I’m beginning to think you’re doing this on purpose, Comet.”

“No way! I have better things to do than watch you get freaky with the Doc!” Comet counters, his gaze falling from the ceiling, and then snapping back up when he sees you, “Doc, please put your shirt back on.”

“Oh,” Your face burns as you hurriedly tie your shirt back on, “Sorry, Comet.”

You glance up at Wolffe, who is glaring at his brother, and you roll your eyes and elbow him, pulling a grunt from him. Wolffe glances at you, and then grits his teeth, “It’s...fine. No harm done.”

“Yeah, I’d believe that if you didn’t sound like you’re about to kill me,” Comet drops his gaze again, his gaze firmly staying off of you, “Anyway, the General is looking for you.”

At that, Wolffe sighs and slumps slightly, “Duty calls, I suppose.” He turns and drops a kiss to your forehead, “We’ll continue this later.”

“It’s a date.”

Wolffe drops one more kiss to your forehead, then he pulls his armor back on, and he’s gone.

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[vodika-vibes]

A Burden Shared

Summary: Fox decides to take matters into his own hands when his Jedi General starts burying herself in work after discovering the chips and arranging for the clones to have the increased aging reversed.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Jedi F! Reader

Word Count: 1062

Warnings: it gets kind of heavy in places

A/N: This week is dedicated to stories I want to write, I guess, lol. Anyway, I hope you all like this little fic, some of the lines were pulled from a webcomic I like.

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“Cyare,” Fox leans his hip against her desk, his eyes locked on her exhausted face, rather than the piles of medical research, political research, and law books that she’s been glued to for the better part of a month.

“In a minute, Fox. I just need to finish this paragraph.” She sounds as exhausted as she looks, “I think I’ve managed to come up with a way to get all of the battalions de-chipped without alerting the senate—“

“Cyare, that’s not your job.” Fox points out, his voice gentle, “The Jedi Council is working on that.”

“They need to work faster.”

“Hey,” He slides his hand over her shoulder, and then down her arm to take the datapad from her fingers, “You did your part.” He kneels next to her chair and her gaze flickers to his face, “You’re the Jedi General for the Coruscant Guard, and you managed to get our chips removed. Let the other Jedi worry about their Battalions.”

A stressed line appears on her brow, and Fox reaches up to smooth is away with a gentle finger.

“But, what if they don’t?”

“Then that’s something for the Council to worry about.” Fox points out, “You’re still a baby knight, you can’t do anything about the people who don’t want to take care of their men.”

“But I should—“

“You’ve done enough.” Fox interrupts.

Her pretty eyes scan his face for a moment, and then her gaze flickers to the scar on his neck. Her lower lip wobbles, and she reaches out to lightly touch the Lichtenberg scars on his neck, “I haven’t though. I need to do more.”

Fox takes her hand in his, “This isn’t your fault.”

“I should have seen. I should have known that something was wrong. I—“

“No.” Fox interrupts her again, “No, I didn’t want you to know. I ordered my brothers to hide this from you. The only person at fault is the person who gave them to me.”

For a moment, Fox things that he’s getting through to her, but then she shakes her head, “No. No, Fox, I have to do more. I have to.”

A heavy sigh falls from his lips, and then he slowly, gently even, coaxes her out of her chair. His movements are sure as he powers down her datapads, and shoves books in where they can’t be seen anymore.

And she lets him. She happily moves into his arms, and settles on his lap on the floor next to her desk.

“The weight of the galaxy is a terrible burden for one person to bear,” Fox murmurs against her temple, his lips ghosting down the side of her face, until he’s lingering at the corner of her mouth, “Why do you have to carry this weight alone?”

“Be-because you shouldn’t have to.”

Fox tightens his grip around her, “And you should?”

“Yes!”

“No.” Fox ghosts his lips across hers, “No. You need to listen to me, cyare. Can you do that for me?”

She nods slightly, her eyes closing as he peppers light kisses all across her face.

“You don’t get to take the blame for every wrong done to my brothers and me.” Fox speaks softly, but there’s an underlying firmness in his voice, one he knows that she’ll listen to because she always does. “You don’t get to lessen their wrongs by taking their guilt.”

“But they don’t feel guilty.”

“That’s on them, not you.” He slowly drags his hand down her spine, causing her to shiver and making a tiny smile cross his face.

“Someone needs to take responsibility—“

“Not you.” Fox insists, “Never you.” His hand comes up to cup her face, “You saved us. Do you understand that? Finding the chip, making sure that we all have them removed, demanding that Kamino hands over the counter to the enhanced aging by appealing to their business sense? That’s all you.”

“But I couldn’t have you all.”

“No, you couldn’t. But you know what? We’re going to live long lives. Long, healthy, lives. Because of you. Because you care.”

“It’s the bare minimum, Fox.”

He slowly bumps his forehead against hers, “If there’s a Patron Saint of Clones, it should be you.” She averts her gaze, shyly, “In fact, I’m going to bring it up the next time I see my brothers.”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and then she releases a soft huff of air, “You’re impossible.”

“My brothers say that being irritatingly right all the time is my super power.” Fox replies, he closes his eyes as her hands come up to cradle his face, a surge of affection making his grip tighten around her. “Do you have any idea of how much you mean to me? To us?”

“I’m just one Jedi.”

“You’re everything.” Fox whispers, “And not just to the Guard. We all know what you’ve done for us.” Her fingers lightly stroke his cheeks, and Fox wants to melt into her, but he resists the urge, “And you’ve done enough. We all know it.”

“I just feel like I can do more.” She whispers to him.

Fox opens his eyes and stares at her, “Oh, cyare. My love. My only.” He kisses the tip of her nose, “Why do you only see our suffering? Beloved, aren’t you tired from carrying that burden?”

She stares at him, and Fox sees tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

“Look at everything you’ve given us. A future. A life where, someday, we might be more than soldiers. Cyare, beloved, you gave us hope and we will never be able to repay you for that.” He presses his forehead against hers once again, “Let us share your burdens.”

Once again, her lower lip wobbles, “It’s a lot.”

“That’s alright. There are a lot of us, and we’re used to sharing heavy loads.”

“It’s really exhausting.”

“I know. But you don’t have to bear it alone anymore.” He pulls her closer and feels her press her face against his neck, “For now, how about we get some sleep, and tomorrow we can figure out how to save the galaxy.”

“...I’m going to drool on you again.”

Fox laughs quietly, “That’s alright. That’s my burden to bear, and it’s not one I’m willing to share.”

And then, quietly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, cyare.”

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[vodika-vibes]

All Of Me

Summary: When Rex and his Cyare get stranded on a planet far from the core, he decides to make the most of it.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 888

Warnings: Reader is self conscious and shy, reader described as having hair long enough to hang over her shoulders.

A/N: I was in a Rex mood, so I wrote this. Also, my form list changed suddenly, so if I missed anyone in the tags that's why. Stupid google.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Her fingers are gentle as they brush through his short hair. It’s so soothing and relaxing that Rex can’t help but tilt his head back into her hand. Drowsily, he peers up at her, and affection swells in his chest at the soft look on her face, and the gentle smile that lifts her lips.

Rex is lounging in the hot spring, a towel around his waist to shield his modesty (as if it’s needed), and his beloved is sitting behind him on the edge of the pool, a towel wrapped around her body and her hair loose around her shoulders.

Her smile is becoming more and more rare these days. He’s more likely to see a stressed frown or a distracted look on her face recently. And, while he’s not thrilled about the fact that they were stranded here while on a mission, he supposes that there is a silver lining.  

“You’re staring,” Her voice is soft, and musical in a way that his and his brothers will never be. He falls in love with her all over again, every time she speaks to him.

“Can’t help it. You’re stunning.”

She averts her gaze shyly, “The things you say sometimes.”

“I mean every word.”

His beloved has always been self-conscious about her appearance. If he asked what she liked about herself, it would probably take her half an hour to come up with something that isn’t something she does for other people.

Rex, personally, thinks it’s ridiculous.

He could, and can, list ten things he loves about her without even thinking about it. He can talk about all of her good qualities for hours without getting tired, and without even mentioning her appearance.

He might be a little smitten.

It’s fine.

He’s allowed to be a little obsessed with his girlfriend.

A soft giggle pulls him from his thoughts, “You’re still staring, Rex.”

“I’m thinking about you.”

“Yeah? Good things, I hope?” Her fingers still trail through his short hair, and he sighs contently. 

“Only the best things.” He reassures her before he catches one of her hands and brings her fingers to his lips, “I love you, you know that?”

“I know, I love you too.”

“You deserve better than me.” Rex replies. He genuinely believes it. He’s a clone, and she’s an aide to a Senator. She could do so much better than him. But she only has eyes for him.

She just shakes her head, “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

He threads his fingers with hers, “Join me in the water, cyare?” It’s an offer and a plea. 

She looks momentarily surprised, “I didn’t want to crowd you.”

“You could never.” He holds her hand as she stands, and he supports her as she steps into the steaming water. And, when it looks like she’s going to step away from him, Rex doesn’t release her hand. Instead, he tugs her to sit next to him.

The water sits higher on her than on him, and the tips of her hair settle in the water. She really does look like some kind of fantasy princess. Absently, he reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair off her cheek, only for it to fall right back into place again.

“You have so much hair,” He teases lightly.

A smile lifts her lips, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It makes up for the fact that I don’t have any.”

A laugh falls from her, and Rex grins before he leans in to press his lips against hers. The kiss is chaste, little more than a brush of his lips against hers, but when her free hand comes up to wrap around his bicep and his name falls from her lips in a sigh, he’s helpless but to swoop in and kiss her again and again and again.

His hand settles on her hip, squeezing tightly and pulling her closer to his side. She’s not close enough. She’ll never be close enough. She could be sitting on him and still wouldn’t be close enough.

She sighs his name again, and Rex chuckles as he presses his forehead against hers, “You sound lovesick, beautiful.”

“It’s your fault.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Yes, he is smug about that thank you.

“Can I—?” She hesitates, “Um…nevermind.”

“Mm, speak your mind, cyar’ika.”

She won’t meet his gaze, “Can I sit on your lap?”

Rex doesn’t answer, doesn’t have to answer. Because as soon as she makes the request (it wasn’t a request, he knows that, but he’s choosing to treat it as a request) he’s pulling her to sit sideways on his lap, “How’s this?”

She hums a response, her soft fingers moving to trace the starburst scar on his chest, as she lays her head on his shoulder. “Perfect.”

“You never have to ask, cyare. I belong to you. All of me belongs to you.” Rex replies.

She turns her head to kiss his shoulder, “Well then. I’m a lucky lady.”

“I think I’m the lucky one, actually.” Rex kisses the side of her head and tightens his arms around her as he lets the conversation fall. 

Eventually the ship will return and they’ll have to go back to being Captain and Senator’s Aide, but for now they can just be together. And he intends to make the most of it.

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[vodika-vibes]

Who Stepped Up

Summary: Dating is hard as a single mother. You have to be so careful all of the time. But when you meet Tup, you decide to take a chance on love.

Pairing: Pre Clone Trooper Tup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1507

Warnings: Reader is a single mother

A/N: I had an idea, and I hope you all like it. Though I don't think it's very well written, I'm probably being too harsh on myself.

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Being a single mother had never been in your plan.

Sure, you figured someday you’d have a husband and a family and maybe a pet or two. But it had always been a distant thing. A “maybe” more so than a “definitely”.

But then, in your second to last year in college, your long term boyfriend got you pregnant. And, sure, you had options. But you decided that since it was your screw-up with your pills, then the baby was your responsibility.

And your boyfriend was so, so happy to hear about the baby.

Well, he was for about six months. And then he came to you and said that he “wasn’t ready” for the responsibility of fatherhood, and “you understand, don’t you? A baby will ruin my life!”

Oh. You could have murdered him when he said that.

It was two months later, when you were 8 months pregnant, that his mother admitted that he got three other women pregnant besides you. And that all four of you are pregnant within two months of each other.

That knowledge killed any remaining affection you might have had lingering for your ex. And while you wanted to hate the other women for sleeping with a taken man, your heart just isn’t in it.

They’re carrying your son’s siblings.

They’re going to be family.

Or, well, something like that.

So you get yourself into therapy to deal with all of the lingering negative emotions, and you open your heart to the other women, and their coming children. And, to your surprise, they reciprocate.

You work out a schedule with them once their babies are born so your son will know his siblings, and somehow life goes on.

It’s been 6 years since Alyn, your son, was born, and he’s slowly creeping up to his seventh birthday. He’s never met his father, but he has a strong connection with his paternal grandparents, and his half-siblings.

Well, the half-siblings who live on Coruscant, at least. He’s never met the three half-siblings who live on Corellia.

Alyn is a confident and happy child, he doesn’t shy away from things that would have had you cowering behind your parents when you were his age. He’s a leader with his classmates, he makes sure no one is left out when playing on the playground, and he’s happy to change what he’s playing if another kid can’t play what they’re playing for whatever reason.

You’re insanely proud of him.

Sure, he might not be a perfect student, but there’s more to life than how smart you are, and you’d rather he was kind and compassionate over being a super genius anyway.

But you also worry about him.

His half-siblings have, over the past couple of years, gotten step-fathers when their mothers got married, but you intentionally haven’t dated. You don’t want to risk bringing a man into your son’s life, if he’s just going to leave again.

Alyn swears that he doesn’t need a dad. That he has you and that’s more than enough for him. But you can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re failing your son by not giving him a father figure.

But, that’s a concern for later. After you have a conversation with your mother and you decide if you really want to put yourself out there again.

You don’t want to think about that today.

Today is the one year anniversary of the end of the Clone Wars. And, after much begging from Alyn, you agreed to bring him to the park for the games, shows, and rides.

In truth, you’re not sure how the war ended. All you know is that former Chancellor Palpatine was executed for treason, and that Coruscant is now home to nearly two million clones, all of whom work with the Jedi.

Not that it really effects you, much. After all, there was no other way for the war to end.

“Mom!” Alyn wraps his hands around yours, “Mom! Look, they have live music! Can I go watch?”

You glance at the venue, and then you nod. “Go ahead. I’m going to be sitting at the food court.” You motion towards the many food stalls, “When you’re done, you come right to me.”

“I will!” He hugs you quickly, and then darts into the crowd of children. You watch him for a moment, just to make sure that he’s safe, and then you turn to grab a caf and a pastry from a nearby food stall, before taking a seat at an empty picnic table.

You settle at the table, absently watching the musicians put on the show, all while nursing your caf and feeding Alyn when he darts over to you when he gets hungry—and that’s when you meet Tup.

He’s tall and broad, like all of the other clones you’ve met, though unlike his brothers, he has long hair that he’s braided down his back. Now that the war is over, you suppose he can wear his hair however he likes.

Good for him. And you mean that sincerely.

He greets you with a lop-sided smile, introduces himself, and asks if he can join you as all of the other tables are filled up, and you only have to think for a moment, before you’re moving Alyn’s drink out of the way for him to join you.

At first, you expect him to eat and then move on.

But he surprises you by starting a conversation, “Are you enjoying the festival?”

You glance at him over your caf, and then you smile, “I am. It’s been a long time since we’ve had something to celebrate.”

He nods, as if he agrees, “We couldn’t celebrate last year,” Tup admits, “I’m glad I was able to come this year.”

“You weren’t allowed to celebrate last year?” You ask, a frown pulling your lips down.

“Not that we weren’t allowed, but there was a thing.” Tup explains evasively.

“A thing?”

“A thing.”

“Amazing, you’re almost as descriptive as my son.” You say dryly.

A grin crosses his face, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He takes a sip of his drink, some kind of lemonade, you think, based on the color. “How old is your son?”

“He’s six, though he’ll be the first one to tell you that he’s turning seven in a couple of months.”

“Well, it is a big deal.”

You hum your agreement, “He’s a good kid, so we’re doing an event for his birthday, rather than a gift.”

“You and his dad?” Tup asks.

“Oh, no. There’s no dad.” You pause, “Well, I mean, there is. Obviously. I couldn’t get pregnant on my own, but my ex hasn’t had anything to do with Alyn since I was 6 months pregnant.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “Honestly, I’m better off for it. He has three half-siblings who were born within a couple of weeks of him. I can’t even imagine what life would be like if I had married the loser.”

Tup opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Alyn runs up and grabs his drink, and then he focuses his wide stare on Tup, “Who’re you?”

“My name is Tup, you must be Alyn?”

“Yeah. That’s me. Are you a solider?”

“What gave it away?” Tup asks, with a small grin.

“You look like our neighbor. He says his name is...um...oh, Fireball! I think it’s a really cool name.” Alyn pauses, “Mom, why didn’t you name me Fireball?”

You laugh quietly, “I’m just not very creative, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. That’s okay, I like my name too.” Alyn takes another sip of his soda, “You know, my mom’s single.”

Tup burst out laughing, and you groan and press your burning face into your hands, “Alyn!”

Alyn, however, is undeterred, “Like. Really, really single. I don’t think she’s dated since my bio dad took off.”

“Alyn Wyatt!”

“What! It’s true!”

“That doesn’t mean you can go around telling people that!”

Alyn pouts at you, and then he glances at Tup again, “I spend Friday nights with my grandparents, if you want to ask her out!” He blurts, and then he darts back to his friends in front of the stage.

“I’m...so sorry.” You say, your voice muffled due to your face still being pressed against your hands.

“Don’t be,” There’s a grin in his voice, “He’s just looking out for you, in his own way.” You drop your hands from your face as he taps them, “So, now that I know there’s no husband in the picture—” He trails off with a grin.

“Seriously?”

“Alyn can come too. I’ll have you know that I make a mean steak dinner.”

A small smile crosses your face, “Is that right?”

“It is, in fact.”

“And you’re inviting me and Alyn?”

“Well, he’s your son. I imagine he comes first.”

“Not many people get that.” You mumble.

“I’m not most people.” Tup shrugs, “So, what do you say?”

You watch him for a moment, and then you smile, “Alright. It’s a date.”

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