“their reactions to when someone is staring at you.”
a/n: saw @tanobatcher’s tiktok where she wrote out her own head cannons and i NEEDED to write them out. thank you for giving me permission to write this out pooks. doing the commanders and captains first!
✶⋆.˚ CODY - CC-2224
It starts while you and Cody are waiting in line at a small café on Coruscant—one of those rare, quiet days where the war feels far away.
You’re reading the menu, rambling about wanting to try the new pastry, and Cody is just… watching you. Soft, relaxed, genuinely happy to be here with you instead of on a battlefield.
Then he sees it.. some guy at a table across the room, openly staring at you.
Not a passing glance.
Not polite curiosity.
A full-on, shameless, hungry stare.
Cody’s smile doesn’t even falter, but he shifts his stance ever so slightly—shoulders squared, chin lifting.
His hand rests casually on the small of your back, thumb brushing with a grounding gesture for himself more than for you.
You don’t notice.
But Cody sees everything.
He leans in, voice low, teasing, warm against your ear,
“Look at you… collecting fans wherever you go.”
You laugh, nudging him.
“Fans? Please. He’s probably staring at the menu behind me.”
Cody snorts, soft but incredulous.
“Oh no, cyare. Trust me.. he’s definitely here for you.”
You roll your eyes, amused, flustered, completely unaware that Cody has already mapped out five different ways to remove this man from the room without disrupting lunch.
“He’s harmless,” you shrug.
“Mm,” Cody hums, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Inside, his thoughts are a different story.
Stop staring at her. She didn’t invite your attention. Walk away before I make you.
He keeps his expression light, because the last thing he wants is to ruin your good mood over something so small.
You finally decide on chocolate, and Cody orders for both of you—calm, polite, charming.
But while you wait, the staring continues, and Cody feels every muscle in his body coil tighter.
He doesn’t confront.
Not yet.
Instead, he slides closer, arm brushing yours, claiming you without making a scene.
“Careful,” you tease him. “People might think you like me.”
Cody gives you that tiny, sideways smirk that always melts you.
“Oh, they already know,” he murmurs. And I want them to.
When you run to grab napkins, Cody’s eyes flick back to the man.
One single look—sharp, commander-level, utterly lethal.
Stop. Now.
And like magic, the guy’s gaze drops to his drink, shoulders stiffening, suddenly reconsidering every life choice he’s ever made.
Cody exhales slowly, controlled, tension draining from his posture.
Not because he doubted himself, he just didn’t want to escalate and ruin your day.
When you return, completely oblivious to the storm that almost happened, he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers resting comfortably at your hip.
You raise a brow.
“Possessive much?”
He chuckles, brushing a playful but honest kiss to your temple.
“Well, what can I say? My girlfriend’s famous.”
You laugh, leaning into him, and Cody decides, yep, worth it.
He’ll joke, he’ll tease, he’ll keep it light… because your happiness matters more than his pride.
But Maker help the next person who forgets how to respectfully use their eyes.
✶⋆.˚ REX - CT-7567
The 79’s cantina is unusually calm tonight—soft music, dim lights, clones scattered at tables unwinding after long rotations.
You and Rex sit in a booth tucked against the wall, his arm draped behind you, not quite touching, but close enough that you feel protected.
He looks relaxed even though he wore his armor, chestplate reflecting the warm lighting, helmet resting beside him on the seat.
He’s smiling because you just said something that made him forget there’s a war outside.
And then he sees it.
Across the room, a man—civilian, slouched at the bar—eyes locked on you.
Not accidental, not passing curiosity.
Lingering. Bold. Disrespectful.
Rex’s smile fades, jaw tightening just a fraction. He forces himself to breathe slowly through his nose.
Benefit of the doubt, he tells himself. Maybe he’s looking past her. Maybe he’s not actually staring.
You’re too busy talking, unaware, glowing in the low lighting, and all Rex wants is to stay in this tenderness a little longer.
But then the stranger’s gaze drops—slowly, lingering, crawling—and returns to your face with a smirk.
Rex’s patience snaps like a blaster bolt through glass.
His arm moves from behind you to rest firmly on the table—protective, grounding—as he turns his head just enough to confirm what he already knows.
Yeah. The guy’s staring at you.
Controlled yet furious, Rex exhales through his teeth. Maker, keep me from decking this man in front of her.
He really does try to stay seated.
To ignore it.
To be the reasonable, composed captain you deserve.
He lasts maybe a second.
Then he stands, his plastoid armor shifting with the movement. Smooth, silent, terrifyingly calm, and he starts walking.
“Rex?” you ask softly, confused.
He doesn’t answer, because he already knows what needs to be done.
He reaches the bar and stops right beside the man, close enough that the air shifts, close enough that the entire room quiets.
Rex doesn’t yell.
He doesn’t have to.
He leans in slightly, voice dangerously even.
“You wanna tell me what you’re lookin’ at?”
The man startles, eyes wide. “I—I wasn’t—”
Rex lets out a humorless and sharp laugh.
“Oh, you were. And now you’re gonna stop.”
The stranger opens his mouth, maybe to deny it, maybe to be stupid, but Rex raises a brow, and the words die in his throat.
Rex’s posture is relaxed, hands loose at his sides, but every fiber of him radiates do not test me.
The man swallows hard. “S-sorry.”
Rex nods, like this was a polite conversation about the weather.
“That’s what I thought.”
He steps back—not breaking eye contact—until he’s sure the guy gets the message.
Then Rex turns, face softening instantly when he sees you watching him.
He returns to the booth, sliding in beside you again, armor knocking lightly against the seat.
You give him a look mix of concern and affection.
“You okay?” you whisper.
Rex shrugs, arm returning behind you, this time brushing your shoulder deliberately.
“Fine. Just didn’t like how he was looking at you.”
You smirk. “Jealous?”
He scoffs, but his ears turn the faintest shade of pink.
“Protective,” he corrects, voice quieter. “There’s a difference.”
You lean into him.
“Well… thank you.”
Rex pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was gentle and grounding, everything he wishes the galaxy was.
“I’ll always look out for you, cyare. Always.”
Across the room, the man suddenly finds the floor very interesting.
And Rex?
He goes right back to smiling, because as far as he’s concerned, problem handled.
✶⋆.˚ WOLFFE - CC-3636
It’s supposed to be a peaceful night—just you, Wolffe, and a quiet stroll through a small Coruscant marketplace after his shift.
Shops are closing, lights dimming, crowds thinning.
Wolffe stays beside you, hand instinctively hovering near the small of your back. Not quite touching, but always there if you need him.
He’s in full armor, helmet tucked under his arm, hair slightly mussed from hours of command.
He looks tired, but content.
You’re pointing out a vendor selling tiny holo figurines when Wolffe feels it—the weight of someone’s stare.
Sharp. Intentional. Unwelcome.
His expression doesn’t change, but something in him goes perfectly still.
Without a word, his gauntleted hand finds your waist and gently guides you forward, placing you directly in front of him.
Your back meets his chest, solid and warm, as his legs widen just slightly, bracketing yours.
A wall of armor and possessive silence.
You blink up at him. “Wolffe?”
He doesn’t look at you—he’s too busy tracking the man across the walkway, gaze narrowed to a sniper’s focus.
“Nothin’ to worry about,” he mutters, voice low, controlled.
But his arm stays firm around your middle, pulling you closer, tucking you securely into his side like you belong there.. because you do.
The guy keeps staring—pretending he’s not, but failing miserably.
Wolffe’s jaw flexes once. Twice.
He won’t cause a scene… not unless he has to.
You go back to browsing, unaware of the storm brewing behind you.
Wolffe rests his chin lightly atop your head, positioning himself so his body blocks the man’s line of sight completely.
Then the stranger decides to walk past you both—slowly, deliberately—eyes still lingering.
Wolffe doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t warn.
Doesn’t negotiate.
He just moves.
As the man passes, Wolffe straightens, shifts his stance, and shoulder checks him HARD.
Hard enough to send the guy stumbling, nearly losing his footing, making a few heads turn.
“Oh. Sorry,” Wolffe says flatly, tone so insincere it’s practically a threat.
The man looks up, ready to start something, until he sees who hit him.
The armor.
The scar.
The unblinking grey-striped commander staring him down like prey.
Wolffe tilts his head. Just a fraction as he silently challenges him.
The guy swallows, quickly averts his eyes, and keeps walking fast.
Wolffe watches him disappear into the crowd, making sure he’s gone.
Only then does he soften, hand returning to your waist, pulling you gently back against him.
“You good?” he asks quietly.
You turn, confused but smiling, completely oblivious. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
Wolffe exhales through his nose, relief slipping into something warm, almost fond.
“No reason,” he lies, thumb rubbing absent circles into your hip.
You loop your arm around his middle, leaning into him.
“You’re in a cuddly mood today.”
He huffs. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation.”
You laugh and start walking again, and Wolffe follows—close, attentive, protective—eyes still scanning the area, just in case.
Because if anyone else even thinks about staring?
They’re getting shoulder checked too.
✶⋆.˚ FOX - CC-1010
Coruscant nightlife always felt a bit too loud, too bright, too chaotic, but you liked it.
And Fox liked you, so here he was, escorting you to a late dinner during his shift, armor still on, helmet on, posture relaxed for once.
You’re talking about your day, your voice was soft yet excited, and Fox can’t stop staring at you.
Not in the way others do.
His gaze is reverent. Protective. Home.
Then he notices it.
A man at the bar—leaned back in his stool, drink forgotten—eyes glued to you.
Tracking every movement. Undressing you with his stare.
Fox’s pleasant mood dissolves instantly, replaced with a cold, razor-sharp alertness.
You don’t notice since you’re too busy looking through the dessert menu.
Fox does, though. He always does.
He leans slightly toward you, voice calm but edged with steel,
“Stay here a moment, mesh’la.”
You blink. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he says with a reassuring smile. “Just handling a little… administrative matter.”
You don’t even have time to ask before he’s already striding across the room—purposeful, predatory, commander mode activated.
The man doesn’t look up until Fox’s shadow falls over him.
Fox crosses his arms—biceps straining against plastoid, posture perfect and terrifying.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks pleasantly.
The guy stutters. “Wh-what?”
Fox smiles dangerously under his helmet. “I said, were you enjoying staring at the woman I’m with?”
The man’s mouth opens and closes like a dying fish.
“I-I wasn’t staring—”
Fox taps the Coruscant Guard emblem on his shoulder plate.
“Right. Because if you were, that would qualify as harassment. Which, fortunately for you, falls under my jurisdiction.”
The man pales, looking around for help. There is none.
Fox leans closer, lowering his voice so only the man can hear.
“Here’s how this goes. You’re going to stop looking at her, finish your drink, and leave. Or I will drag you out of here in binders, and you won’t see daylight again without clearance codes.”
He pauses, letting it sink in.
“Do we understand each other?”
The man nods so aggressively Fox worries he’ll sprain something.
“Good,” Fox says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
When Fox turns away, the man grabs his coat and practically sprints out of the building.
Fox returns to your table like nothing happened, sliding into his seat, expression calm, voice soft again.
“Sorry about that. What did you decide on?”
You narrow your eyes.
“What did you do?”
Fox shrugs innocently.
“Public safety is my responsibility.”
You give him a look. “…Fox.”
He sighs, reaching for your hand.
“Alright, alright. Maybe I reminded him I outrank literally everyone in this district.”
You snort. “You love pulling the rank card.”
Fox smirks, kiss-creases forming at the corners of his eyes.
“Why have power if you can’t weaponize it in defense of your beautiful partner?”
You laugh, shaking your head, until your datapad pings.
You glance at the screen.
“Um… Fox? Did you just add him to a watchlist?”
Fox removes his helmet as he pops a bite of bread into his mouth, casual as ever.
“Of course. Can’t be too careful.”
“Fox—”
“What? Saves time later.”
You stare at him in disbelief, and maybe a little awe.
He softens, thumb brushing your knuckles.
“I’m never letting someone make you feel unsafe. Not on my planet.”
You melt, because honestly? You believe him.
And somewhere in a database, a brand-new entry reads:
Subject: Creepy bar guy.
Status: Watched, monitored, and extremely unlucky.
✶⋆.˚ GREGOR - CC-5576-39
The hideout was busy today—more civilians than usual had come to drop off supplies: food, medical stock, blankets, spare tools.
You were helping organize it—clipboard in hand, sorting crates, directing where things needed to go.
Gregor was supposed to be helping too.
He was not.
He was leaning against a stack of ration boxes, helmet on the floor beside him, arms crossed, watching you with that familiar lazy grin—like you were the most entertaining thing he’d ever seen.
Then he noticed it.
One of the civilian volunteers—a young guy carrying a crate—kept staring at you.
Not quick glances.
Not accidental looks.
Full-on, wide-eyed, wow who is she staring.
Gregor didn’t tense.
Didn’t get jealous.
Didn’t even frown.
He just let out a quiet, amused little laugh.
You looked over, brows furrowing. “What?”
He tilted his head toward the civilian, smirking.
“You’ve got an admirer.”
You blinked, confused, until you caught the guy doing that lingering stare again.
Your face warmed instantly.
“Oh Maker,” you muttered, pretending to check your clipboard. “He’s being obvious.”
Gregor shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy.
“Well, of course he’s staring. Look at you.” He waved a hand at you dramatically. “Anyone with functioning eyesight would.”
You swatted his arm lightly. “Be serious.”
He leaned in, voice rich with playful innocence.
“I am being serious. You’re hot. It’s practically a public hazard.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Gregor cut you off—eyes sparkling, grin widening.
“Honestly?” he mused, nodding toward the guy, “Maybe you should give him a chance. Poor kid looks like he’s about to faint.”
Your jaw dropped. “Gregor!”
He held both hands up like he was being reasonable.
“What? I’m just saying, good for him. Look at his taste! Impeccable!”
You stared at him, scandalized and flustered.
He leaned closer, dropping his voice into something softer, warmer—meant only for you.
“But…” his fingers brushed yours, just barely, “you’re already taken.”
Your heartbeat stuttered.
His grin shifted—still playful, but undeniably possessive—like he enjoyed reminding you as much as saying it.
Across the hideout, the staring civilian suddenly found something else to carry—quickly, awkwardly, and in the opposite direction.
Gregor chuckled, satisfied, bumping your shoulder with his.
“See? No need to scare him off. Just had to remind the room who you belong to.”
You squinted at him. “You are insufferable.”
He winked, picking up a crate like he finally intended to help.
“Yeah, but I’m your problem.”
And as he walked past you, he added—just loud enough for you to hear.
“Lucky you.”
✶⋆.˚ HOWZER - CT-7569
The two of you are standing in line at a small open-air café on Ryloth—warm lights, soft night breeze, quiet chatter filling the streets.
Howzer’s shift ended an hour ago, but he’s still in his armor—minus the helmet—arms crossed loosely over his chest, hair slightly tousled, expression relaxed.
He’s listening to you talk about your day, nodding along, eyes warm and focused, because when you speak, he always listens.
You’re mid-sentence when he notices someone a few tables over staring.
Not a curious glance.
Not a passing look.
A lingering, territorial stare.
Howzer’s smile fades just a touch, shoulders straightening.
He doesn’t interrupt you—he never would—but his attention shifts, eyes narrowing slightly.
He watches for a moment, giving the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe the guy will look away. Maybe he’ll realize he’s being weird.
He doesn’t.
In fact, he stares harder—eyes dragging over you slowly, disrespectfully.
Howzer’s jaw ticks.
He tries to breathe through it, tries to stay calm because he hates conflict, hates making a scene, hates the idea of ruining your evening.
But he also refuses to let anyone treat you like that.
So he steps forward—smooth, controlled, radiating authority—and positions himself slightly in front of you, blocking the man’s view.
You pause. “Howzer?”
He offers you a gentle smile. “One sec, mesh’la.”
Then he turns and walks toward the man with a calm, steady, and purposeful stride.
The guy looks up, startled, clearly not expecting a cloned captain built like a wall to approach him.
Howzer stops right beside his table, tilts his head slightly, voice polite, but sharpened with steel.
“Can I help you…?”
Not friendly.
Not genuine.
A warning wrapped in manners.
The man blinks. “What? No— I wasn’t—”
Howzer raises a brow, unimpressed.
“Oh, really? Because you’ve been starin’ for a while. Thought maybe you needed something.”
The tone is condescending and just enough to make the point without escalating.
The entire patio goes quiet, all eyes suddenly on the interaction.
The guy flushes, shrinking into himself.
“N-no, sir. Sorry.”
Howzer holds his gaze for a moment—long enough to make sure it sinks in—then gives a curt nod.
“Good. Then keep your eyes to yourself.”
His voice is calm, quiet, but devastatingly firm.
He doesn’t wait for a response, he just turns on his heel and walks back to you.
You’re staring at him, wide-eyed.
“Everything… okay?” you ask slowly.
Howzer’s expression softens immediately as he reaches you, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back—guiding you forward in line again.
“Yeah,” he says, voice warm now, almost playful. “Just helped someone remember their manners.”
You snort. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He leans down, lips brushing your temple.
“I know. But I’ll never let someone disrespect you, not while I’m around.”
Your heart flips, cheeks warming.
You loop your arm through his, and he pulls you a little closer—protective, but tender.
Behind you, the man hurriedly pays and leaves, head down.
Howzer watches him go for half a second—satisfied—then returns his full attention to you like nothing ever happened.
“Now,” he says, smiling gently, “you were telling me about the part with the flowers?”
And just like that, your night continues—safe, comfortable, yours.
✶⋆.˚ MAYDAY - CC-????
The outpost is quiet for once—snow drifting lazily outside, heater humming, you and Mayday sharing a rare moment of peace at his cluttered desk.
He’s half in armor—pauldrons off, chestplate unbuckled, gloves tossed aside—hair slightly messy, scruff framing that devastating smirk.
He looks tired, but lighter with you there, shoulder brushing yours as you flip through supply logs together.
Then he notices it.
Some visiting lower rank officer across the room—pretending to review paperwork—eyes glued to you.
Not subtle.
Not respectful.
Just staring like you’re a warm fireplace in the middle of a frozen wasteland.
Mayday doesn’t tense, doesn’t posture, he just… laughs.
A low, amused, is this guy serious? kind of laugh.
You glance up. “What?”
Mayday tilts his head toward the man, voice dripping with smug amusement.
“You’ve got an admirer.”
You roll your eyes, dismissing it. “He’s just looking around.”
Mayday arches a brow, no he isn’t, and leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest like he’s settling in for entertainment.
But his gaze stays soft on you—never threatening, never demanding—just quietly claiming.
Then the staring continues.
Longer.
Harder.
Bolder.
Mayday exhales through his nose—still amused, still dangerous.
He shifts forward, elbows on his knees, leaning in close enough that his breath brushes your ear, voice low and wicked.
“Wanna give him a show?”
You freeze, pulse tripping. “Mayday—”
He chuckles again, hand sliding to your thigh—not squeezing, just resting there like it belongs.
His eyes never leave yours.
“I’m just saying,” he murmurs, tone playful but possessive, “a kiss would send a very clear message.”
You turn slightly, meeting his gaze—dark, confident, inviting.
“And what message is that?” you ask, breath softer than intended.
His smirk deepens—dangerously slow, smug, sure.
“That you’re mine.”
Not up for debate. Not a question.
A fact.
Before you can respond, he gently cups your jaw—thumb sweeping across your cheek, touch both reverent and territorial—leans in, and kisses you.
Unhurried and certain. Completely unapologetic.
The kind of kiss that says I’ve waited for this and I dare you to look away.
You melt into him, fingers gripping the edge of his pauldron, and he smiles against your lips because yeah—he knew you would.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t glance at the staring officer.
He doesn’t need to.
Instead, he keeps his forehead resting against yours, voice soft but laced with smug satisfaction.
“Still looking?”
You peek over his shoulder.
The man is suddenly very invested in a blank datapad.
Mayday laughs—low, satisfied—and presses one more kiss to your temple, thumb brushing your chin.
“Thought so.”
Then he sits back, arm draped over the back of your chair, posture relaxed, claiming you without touching.
“Now,” he says casually, “where were we?”
Like he didn’t just ruin someone’s self-esteem and mark you as his in one breathtaking move.
A bunny hybrid reader that notices a male fox hybrid following them and watching from a far. Naturally you get nervous cause foxes prey on bunnies! But it turns out he’s very shy and wants to court a cute chubby bunny but doesn’t know how to. Maybe he’s also a soft dom with praise kink? 🤭
You had felt eyes on you since the moment you entered the forest you usually collected herbs from. It wasn’t exactly unusual to feel watched considering many other hybrids called the forest home… but today it felt… different.
You spotted a fleck or red, the shade making your fight or flight kick in.
Instantly you began sprinting, dropping your basket and booking it back to your cabin. You didn’t dare turn around, your poor heart racing as your fluffy bunny ears picked up the sound of running behind you.
“W-wait!”
You cried out in fear at the sound of your pursuer calling for you to stop, shaking your head. “N-no, go away!”
You reached your home, quickly locking your door and peering out the peep hole as your fluffy cotton tail twitched nervously.
There was a fox hybrid outside on your porch, sniffing the air and rubbing his face against every surface he could… was he leaving his scent there for later?
“Please come out… I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.”
This happened nearly every day for a month. The fox chased you, nearly running you over before you got into your cottage at the end of the day.
That was until you weren’t fast enough.
The fox had been studying the way you move, when you took the shortest of breaks to catch your breath, and when you quickened your pace again to get away. Bunnies were masters at escaping… but foxes were very smart.
You knew something was different this time. Call it instinct, call it just coincidence, but you noticed that he wasn’t running after you as fast as usual… and his eyes were following your every movement the entire time.
Like he already knew he was going to catch you… it was just a matter of time.
You were too slow as you turned a corner, slipping on some pine straw and crashing to the ground. In seconds he was on top of you, and all you could do was close your eyes and hoped he killed you quickly…
But his jaws never closed around your neck. After a few moments of silence, you opened your eyes to see him butting his head against you affectionately, his tail swaying behind him.
His eyes were half lidded, staring down at you with infatuation and adoration.
“I’ve finally got you, little bunny.”
He was absolutely glued to your side now, clinging tightly to you as you hesitantly made your way home. The fox seemed absolutely smitten, sometimes softly nipping at your fluffy ears or neck, startling you.
“So pretty… you smell so, so good…”
After dinner he curled up with you, his fluffy tail swaying as he kept rubbing his scent on your neck. Could he tell that you were close to your heat? Is that why he had become interested in you?
“I’ve wanted you for so long… you’re cute and just the softest thing I’ve ever seen… but it’s hard approaching a bunny when you’re a fox.”
Your cheeks heated up as he pressed against you, your cotton tail wagging furiously when his bulge rubbed against your clothed cunt.
It wasn’t long until your next heat cycle, and it was clear that he knew it too. He continued to purr as he grabbed hold of your hips, guiding your bunny cunt over his bulge slowly.
When you let out a stifled whine, he smiled, giving your soft bunny ear a nibble. “Mmm, that’s a good girl. You’re so soft and pretty, let me take care of you, sweetheart…”
Within seconds he had your panties off, his fingers stretching your whole. As they pumped in and out of you, his lips met yours in a needy kiss.
His tongue explores your mouth, entangling with yours. It was hard to think with all these new sensations…
“Come on, bunny… lemme see that pretty pussy of yours, hmm?”
You shyly opened your legs, and he moved to position his cock at your entrance. At this point you were whining and bucking your hips, ready to be mated.
It was reassuring when he held onto your hand as his cock sunk into your fat bunny cunt, his face burying itself into your neck.
“F-fuck, so good… god…”
His grip on your hips tightened, the soft flesh warm against his hand. He’d never had something so soft and cute underneath him… you were amazing…
It felt too good, his cock was rubbing and touching all of the best spots, making your clit throb. As soon as he noticed, he moved his hand to rub circles around your clit while he picked up speed.
As he fucked into you, whining into your neck, he said the cutest things.
“I love you… love you so much, so fucking pretty…” he blubbered, his teeth grazing against your neck before he bit you.
“G-gonna… gonna knock you up, okay? Gonna be my cute little mate…”
Those words had your walls fluttering around him, your toes curling as the two of you came together.
After coming down from your respective highs, he became a bit shy again, giving your cheek a tentative lick. “You did well, pretty girl…”
You simply butted your head against him affectionately, returning his soft purrs.
Now, you had a mate, a sweet one at that. You didn’t have to worry about other bunnies bothering you when a fox called your cottage home.
Note : this takes place after the "he kept you" ending.
A - Aftercare :
Surprisingly okay at it at first and as time passes gets even better. Fox has had none to very little sex experiences (depends on whether you consider btd2/ykmet MCs to exist prior to tpof) that were with someone he cared about. He also has had very limited experience with porn media that weren't violent, given Strades influence on him. He cares for you, so he works entirely based on instinct. Aftercare usually is him cleaning you with a rug and cuddling you up to him while whispering praises about how well you handled it and how beautiful you look all bruised up because of him. After a while he helps you get up and runs a bath for the two of you.
B - Body part :
For him : He really enjoys his claws. They give him a sense of security first of all, and also they can leave so many marks of him all over your body! Adores digging them in your thighs
For you : Honestly everything. If he was forced to pick he'd probably go for your eyes - he loves watching your expression change from pain to pleasure to love depending on how he treats you. Your mouth is also a favourite of his - Fox loves when you're loud and if you aren't he will do his earnest to make you moan or scream (whether in pleasure or pain depends on the day).
C- Cum :
Inside you. His breastkin instincts do give him a natural breeding kink, and while he isn't hard pressed to have a family the throught of breeding in itself gets him fired up. The possessiveness of it, the claiming that you are his. He is 100% the type to push it back in with his hand when it starts leaking out.
D - Dirty secret :
He will fuck you with a gun but after the show ends it will never be loaded. He doesn't admit it to you, but you are too precious for him to take a risk that would mean immediate death for you.
Also it's not really a secret (mostly something he just doesn't admit openly and you get via his reactions) but much as he likes to mark you he also enjoys being marked back (probably very hesitant to let you do that with knives to him tho). Please run your nails ruthlessly through his back, nip his neck and especially give him hickeys!!
E - Experience :
VERY experienced. He knows how to work your body and his dirty talk is on point. Outside of rough sex while inexperienced, deep down to his core he craves to be loved so much, when he has intercourse with nothing but romance and tenderness with you he is going to be naturally good at it, because it's a carefully crafted fantasy he has been suppressing for decades.
F - Favourite position :
Depends on the day! He loves the classic ol' missionary - it let's him take in all your expressions and he gets to be on top!
Cowgirl he enjoys because while you may be on top he is still the one controlling the situation, hands on your waist manhandling you (and again, the fact that he can see your face during it).
Doggy he likes because it's a position of utter submission. He would enjoy forcing you to watch yourself getting fucked by doing it in front of a mirror.
G - Goofy:
He is balanced on this. He isn't making jokes all the way through, but he does enjoy playfully degrading you and teasing especially if you get flustered easily. Honestly even if you don't, he'd try to find what would make you tick. He would also enjoy a playful partner, so long as you don't test his limits too much.
H - Hair :
I - Intimacy :
He trims/shaves when he isn't too lazy for the streams sake but would never be completely hairless. He doesn't mind what his partner does either way but his preference is a bush (the breastkin in him loves the naturalness of it) and because he is a freak if you save in shapes (extra points if it's a heart) he would LOVE it. If you want to shave during your captivity he will be the one doing it for you. Obviously you aren't to be trusted with razors for a while after all. Even when you gain his trust I can see him wanting to do it for you, after you bathe together, as a strange form of intimacy.
Regardless of how rough or soft he is with you though, he will always maintain eye contact. If you try to cover your face/eyes/mouth he will pin your arms down.
He can be really romantic. In fact once you give in to the Stockholm syndrome dynamic he has formed for you, when he feels like you truly like him and you aren't pretending for survivals sake to be into him, he would give in to his desire to be with someone romantically. Again : Rens experiences with sex are to a large (if not only) extent violent. Soft sex with him while not a constant, would be another milestone (first one being him deciding to keep you).
J - Jack off :
Not often. He has you to take care of that now doesn't he? Only way for him to jack off is if you have been heavily injured or are ill. Even during his heats he 100% is using you for all his urges.
K - Kink :
He is willing to try EVERYTHING. As mentioned above he is really into breeding, forced feminisation, pet play (only time the shock collar would be off would be for him to attach a pet one with a leash on), marking your body all over (biting, scratching, carving, hickeys), overstimulation, edging (for you. Do not even try edging that man it won't end well), dry humping, cockwarming and of course period sex. Also so many Ren lovers have mentioned it, but free use isn't just a kink for him, it's absolutely expected that as his pet you will be doing whatever he wants whenever he wants.
L - Location
His house(s). Any surface will do honestly. He doesn't take you outside ( and if he does its only once you've reached a point in the relationship where you are completely depended and in love with him, too much to think of running away) and while not opposed to the idea of quickies he prefers to take his time with you. His house is also a good location for him because it adds an extra element of control : you are his pet, getting fucked in his safe space.
That being said tho he enjoys the idea of getting you hot and bothered while in public! Slipping his hand between your skirt while out dinning even when with company, peppering your neck with kisses, groping, he just prefers the actual act to be in the house.
M - Motivation
His main motivations are control and the desire for love. You are his pet. He saved you. He owns you. He needs to reaffirm because of his trauma, that you belong to him completely, that you are grateful he decided to spare you, that he has absolute ownership over you. On the other hand he also needs to know that you want him. You crave his company, you crave to be intimate, you see him and despite the horrible things he has done to you, the horrible things he still does to other people, you see a man worth loving.
You don't get the option to say no but he also likes to know as time goes by that even if you had that option you'd choose him with 0 doubt.
N = No
Again : There will be no actual gambles with your life. He would also not share photos or videos of you even if he recorded you. You are his.
Would also not be submissive. It's a trauma thing. You can get to be on top of him but you cannot get the reigns.
O - Oral
Loves both giving and receiving. Does not enjoy eating ass (he finds it too degrading/submissive for him) but can tolerate if he likes you enough. When it comes to receiving he switches between praise (" look at how well you're taking me~" ) and degradation, depending whether he is forcing you to give as punishment or not. In any case he loves forcing you to deep throat him and you absolutely will be swallowing all his cum.
If you're on your period you're getting overstimulated, not even purposefully he can just get especially pussy drunk when aside from your scent, he gets to burry his face and tongue in your blood. Literally his version of heaven.
P = Pace
Usually quite fast and thrusting deep. He has a knot and you will be taking it all. Enjoys going slow and sensual if he is in a romantic mood or just slow if he is edging you.
Q = Quickie
He doesn't hate it, he just isn't fond of it the way he is of normal sessions where he can take his time with you. That said however will be ecstatic and tease you without mercy if you are the one begging for a quickie.
R = Risk
Very adventurous, you will literally never know what to expect in bed with him. Can be together for years and he will find ways to suprise you. Would also love a partner who likes to risk.
S = Stamina
Long sessions, can go up to three if he isn't tired but only because he is breastkin (the usual between you two extremely long sessions). Again he goes deep thrusting and will not pull out, you are getting the knot everytime and if you're having your period best believe he'll try to make it last even longer.
T = Toys
An excessive amount of them, and a lot in the shape of animals (especially tentacles. He is a hentai gooner after all). He uses them both on himself but ESPECIALLY on you, you could literally ask him for any toy and he'd happily whip it out immediately, he is prepared.
U = unfair
He will usually make you cum, unless you've seriously pissed him off. That being said there are times where he will stop mid thrust or mid giving you oral to demand you beg him to continue.
V = Volume
Very loud and also likes you to be loud too. He starts normal and as he goes the sound increases. By the end his moans and growls do get very animalistic to yipping as the beastkin in him gets out.
W = Wild card
While he enjoys committing somnophilia (especially if youre not a heavy enough sleeper, he'd prefer you wake up during it, but would also enjoy you waking up surprised the next day by the sticky mess on your body) he would love even more a partner that wakes him up by sucking or riding him. Again, it reaffirms that you're just as into him as he is into you!
X = X ray
6.8 inches. Not too veiny (one long vein on the underside) but quite thick. Has a knot as we know, and when knotted it takes around 10 minutes for you to be able to get off.
Y = Yearning
Quite high. Despite his age his libido is way above what you'd expect for a man his age - can keep just fine in that department with his younger self. Sex for him is a display of ownership, of love just a way of reaffirming he is loved and saying to you that he loves you right back even when he is so rough with you that he has to dress your injuries afterwards.
Z = Zzzz
Depends on the day! If he has been steaming falls asleep very quick. If not, since he is nocturnal he would enjoy watching some anime cuddled up with you, tracing patterns in your arms with his claws, careful so as to keep his touches light enough to be enjoyable rather than breaking skin or hurting you. In any case the night ends with you cuddled up to him (if he trusts you enough he is okay with taking the position of a little spoon, head shoved in your chest), tail thrown over your legs. Even if it's literally summer he will just turn AC all the way up, he wants cuddles and he is getting them.
Best: Dragon(Thickkkk fingers, also has patience and self control unlike his counterpart), Rire(He has aeons of experience, to doubt his expertise would be akin to saying it won't rain in the Rainforest), Celia(I'm Biased)
Good/Average: Strade(Fat, experienced fingers know their way around a machine, I doubt the concept isn't all that different when performed on a person), Lawrence(Slender dexterous fingers, penetrating deep rather than stretching; his pace can be a bit too lethargic and gentle for most tho), Jack, Mason(He doesn't do it often and when he does, It could either be the most world-shaking, transcendent orgasm of your life, or the most frustrating session of edging you'll ever experience; most days he leans towards the latter)
Bad...: Ren Hana/Fox (Claws... Probably not a good idea.), Komodo(Unlike his counterpart, he fingers you like he's searching for buried treasure; in conclusion, not a good time.), Derek(Rushed and unsatisfying, he cares more about his own pleasure)
Who'd kiss you with cum in your mouth:
Can and WILL get messy: Strade(He's gross. Ie. Its hardly a kiss and more of a filthy attempt at force-feeding you his cum and saliva), Ren(He's curious about the taste), Komodo(Makes you beg for it), Dragon(Also makes you beg for it, although he's a lot crueler. Ie. Making a cut against the roof of your mouth, watching the mess mix from light pink to crimson before kissing you.)
Only after you've swallowed: Rire, Fox( Makes you swallow out of possessiveness, not because he thinks its gross), Jack(He gets off on humiliating you, he'll force you to swallow; the edge of a blade dribbling thin crimsons rivulets against your throat, then calls you a slut for doing so)
Yuck. : Derek(Boyishly immature & hypocritical; he has no problem cumming in your mouth but God forbid he gets a taste of his own medicine), Celia(She has a image to uphold, who does she look like walking around with pussy on her breath), Cain(He'll make you beg for it until your vocal cords are raw and strained, just to call you disgusting for even asking)
Doesn't cum in your mouth: Lawrence( Not because he finds the act disgusting, but it's his personal preference to come into his hand, he doesn't want to 'taint' you more than he already has), Mason(Finishes somewhere on your body)
Potential Breeders?
Actively trying to knock you up: Ren Hana(Shamelessly fantisizes about you having his pups)
Circumstancial: Jack, Komodo, Dragon, Fox
NO.: Strade(He'd like to prolong this nice system he's built for himself, adding a kid to the mix would ruin everything) , Derek(Neither is he emotionally mature enough to have a kid nor would he actually raise the thing; there's a reason why you're on a steady supply of birth control), Mason, Lawrence(He's infertile, even if he wasn't - you couldn't look me in the eye and say this man could handle a child, let alone raise one), Rire
Dick Sizes?
(8+ in)Petah… the horse is here.: Rire, Mason, Lawrence(I'm biased, sue me), Cain,
(6-7 in) oh lord he comin: Strade, Jack, Dragon, Vincent
(5 in) I mean... It's ight.: Ren/Fox, Derek, Komodo, Sano
(3-4in or less) Whatever TS is🥀: Celia(Oh She's packing... Packing A gun.
synopsis: based on the following prompt – “i trust you, do you trust me?”
featured clones: wrecker, hunter, echo, tech, crosshair, rex, fives, wolffe, cody, fox
warnings: mild cursing. nightmares. crime. kidnapping. injury. life-and-death situations. highly uneven word counts because some required more buildup than others. also i don’t think you can repair the hyperdrive from inside a flying ship but uhhh it’s for the plot guys!! not proofread.
wc (total): 6.0k
.✦ ݁˖ wrecker (482 words)
it was a well-known fact that wrecker hated heights. but somehow, he always landed in situations where he would be practically tightrope walking from 300 metres off the ground.
although he tried not to look down, his eyes would subconsciously glance downwards every few seconds, rebelling against his brain which was repeating don’t look down like a mantra.
as you made your way across the narrow cliff’s edge, right in front of him, you also felt fear creep into your mind. you couldn’t afford it, but at that height, anyone would be scared.
just when you started getting used to it, a bomb dropped a few hundred feet in front of the both of you, causing you to momentarily lose your balance.
“if they just bombed us, that means they’re sending droids next. we’ll be trapped,” you tell wrecker. underneath your observation there was an unspoken question: what are we going to do?
as much as he hated the idea, wrecker could only think of one way out. “uhh i have an idea… but you’re not gonna like it.” this did nothing to help your growing sense of fear, considering that most of wrecker’s ideas were unlikeable anyways. “what is it?” you ask, preparing yourself for the worst. for all you know, he’s going to ask you to jump off the cliff.
“you’re just gonna have to trust me.” the look he gives you makes your stomach somersault, and not in the way it usually does when you see him. when you don’t say anything, he follows up. “i trust you, do you trust me?”
as impossible as this situation looked, the truth was that you did trust him. so no matter how terrible his idea was, you trusted that he would never intentionally hurt you. “yes,” you nod.
you yelp as he suddenly picks you up and then jumps. straight off the edge of the cliff. you had never regretted being right about something so much.
wrecker’s screaming so loud that for a split second you accept that this is the end. if he’s screaming so loud when this was his idea, then either something has gone terribly wrong or he didn’t think this through. and both of those things were highly probable.
but your worries are quelled (mildly) when you hear the whoosh of a grappling hook being fired and your bodies jerk as you come to a quick stop.
“whew, that was scary,” he says, voice slightly hoarse from all the screaming. “so is your miraculous plan just to… dangle off the cliff?” you ask, looking down and realizing that the two of you are definitely not close enough to the ground to jump the rest of the way. “no silly, you’re supposed to comm tech to come get us.” after a moment he adds, “and can you ask him to hurry? i don’t wanna be here any more.”
.✦ ݁˖ hunter (394 words)
the two of you had been at this for hours. and still, you felt like you hadn’t improved in the slightest.
hunter was teaching you how to fight with a knife. you were great with a blaster, but blasters weren’t always available. plus, you had kind of wanted to learn a new skill.
honestly, you were being a little harsh with yourself, at least in hunter’s eyes. not only had you just started learning, but you had mastered a lot of the moves he had taught you already. but he could see in your expression that you were frustrated with yourself.
“maybe it’s time for a break,” hunter says, taking the knife from you. hunter’s brow furrows as you nod, not saying a word. he takes your hand and drags you onto the steps of the ship, making you sit down beside him.
“you’re doing great, you know,” he says softly. you’re silent for a moment before shaking your head. “i just feel like it’s not good enough. it’s not like we have a lot of time to be training. i need to get good at this, and fast,” you say, looking away from him to try and hide the tears threatening to fall.
he gently takes ahold of your chin and turns your head to face him. “you’re too hard on yourself,” he says, kissing your nose. “i trust that you’ll get this. can you trust me?” he asks. when you nod, he drops his hand from your chin and says “let’s try once more. this time it’ll be you vs. me.” you groan, already knowing how it’s going to end.
but you surprise yourself with how well you fight. maybe you did need that break, even if you would never admit that to hunter. after a few minutes of intense sparring, you (somehow) manage to pin hunter to the ground, winning.
“see? not half as bad as you thought,” hunter laughs as he pushes himself off the ground. you laugh with him as you help him up. “come on, let’s get dessert. you earned it,” he says, grabbing your hand. you are 100% sure that he let you win, because there was no way you had actually beaten an experienced soldier on your first day of training. but hunter looks proud, and you’re getting ice cream, so who are you to complain?
.✦ ݁˖ echo (406 words)
both you and echo had gotten hurt on the last mission, bad. your skin was littered with bruises, and you had a few minor burns from the explosion that wrecker had accidentally triggered too early. echo looked no better, his prosthetics in bad shape and a serious sprain in his wrist from trying to catch himself as he fell, when he was attempting to take cover from said explosion.
the two of you are in the back of the marauder, alone, on the flight back to kamino after the mission. although he was clearly in a lot of pain from the condition of his prosthetics, he had insisted that he patch you up first.
picking up a bacta pad, he asks, “do you trust me?”, looking at you with wide eyes. “of course,” you respond breathlessly. echo always asked for permission, before doing anything. you admired that about him, especially knowing that it must be important to him. he probably knows better than most what it’s like to have your autonomy stripped from you, and thus refuses to do anything to anyone without their explicit permission.
you hiss as he lowers the pad onto your calf, right under the spot where your pants had been hastily rolled up. “just breathe…” he says, securing the pad around your leg with tape. the two of you sit in comfortable silence as he continues gently cleaning up all your other small burns with the same gentleness. it was admirable how well he was able to work with just one hand.
“all done,” echo declares, sitting back. you smile at him, thanking him silently and he gives you a nod. for a moment, he doesn’t move, looking conflicted. you don’t press, waiting for him to speak when he feels comfortable.
after a few moments, he hands you a small bag of materials, quietly asking you to help him with his injuries. your breath hitches as you take the bag, realizing how vulnerable this must be for him. as your sort through the supplies, you wonder if you’ll really be able to help him, since you would hate to mess things up and put him in even more pain by accident.
as you shift closer and pull his scomp towards you, it seems he can sense your fears when he whispers, “i trust you.” “thank you,” you respond, letting him guide you through repairing his prosthetics and patching up his sprain.
.✦ ݁˖ tech (647 words)
you lot were all in a lot of trouble. the planetary exit, meant to be inconspicuous, had been the opposite of stealthy. now there was an entire separatist fleet chasing after you, and the hyperdrive wasn’t coming online.
“did they sabotage it?” echo calls from the back. he was trying his best to get the hyperdrive online, wrecker was at the back manning the ship’s rear blasters, and tech was piloting. hunter and crosshair were controlling the ship’s cannons. meanwhile you were in the cockpit hanging on for dear life as tech flew the ship like a maniac, attempting to read the ship’s manual to see if it had anything useful to offer. he was simultaneously avoiding blaster fire and trying to shake off the ships by going as fast as possible, but it was only a matter of time before they closed in.
you squinted your eyes to try to focus on the words amidst the jostling of the ship. “deflectors have been compromised!” hunter calls. “i can’t get the hyperdrive online. i don’t know what’s wrong with it,” echo panics.
“i can’t find anything useful in this manual.” you say, panicked. “don’t you have the entire manual memorized?” you ask tech. “i do. but i am currently occupied with trying to keep us all alive.” his usual calm tone is tinged with concern. even crosshair was silent. if he had no aggravating comment regarding the situation, then it was truly dire.
you flip to the next page, reading faster, although your hope was dwindling. just as you were about to throw the manual aside, you come across a passage that might just save all of you. “wait! i found something,” you exclaim. you read out the passage to echo and tech. tech blinks and then says, “i am surprised i did not think about that before. but that is a two-person job, and only echo and i have the ability to repair that part of the hyperdrive. you will have to fly the ship.”
“i can barely fly a ship! especially not during a life-or-death space chase!” you yell. if he really expected you to fly the ship, then you were all as good as dead.
“do not underestimate your abilities, my dear. i trust you with the ship. do you trust me?” he asks, glancing at you for a brief second.
you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task. “i do,” you say, approaching his seat. you two quickly switch spots and he and echo get straight to work on fixing the hyperdrive.
miraculously, your flying wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. you were managing to avoid the blaster fire, which was no small feat considering there were about five different ships trying to shoot down your ship. but just as you started feeling confident, a shot hits one of the wings.
“the left wing’s been hit!” you call to the rest of them. right as you started losing control of the ship, you hear the hyperdrive come online. were you even supposed to go into hyperspace with a compromised wing? probably not, but you didn’t have a choice. you quickly flip the switch and successfully enter hyperspace.
you slump back into the seat, exhaling shakily. you close your eyes as the adrenaline starts to wear off and you feel the effects of being so anxious for so long start to creep in. sitting there for a few moments, you thank the stars for your sudden high-class piloting abilities and that you hadn’t killed the whole batch.
your eyes open as you hear someone come up behind you. a moment later you feel a hand land on your shoulder and give it a squeeze. “you did wonderfully. i am impressed,” tech praises. you flash him a smile, grateful that you had trusted each other. he returns it, thinking the same thing.
.✦ ݁˖ crosshair (501 words)
the batch needed to infiltrate a heavily fortified separatist base, and you had the great pleasure of joining them.
they had been on many missions such as this one and always came out on top. it was hardly a challenge for them anymore, and they had no problem pretentiously whining about it all the time.
you, however, were not as easy-going about this mission as they were. crosshair noticed your anxiety no matter how good you were at hiding it. he noticed how your posture was a little too stiff and the slight furrow in your brow.
but he’s not very good at comfort, and the only way he knows how to address serious topics is using sarcasm. on the ship, during the debrief before the mission, he takes his toothpick out of his mouth and points it at you. “you look confident,” he mocks. which was not helpful, and only put you more on edge.
he backs off slightly after that, paying attention to you throughout the mission. he shifts closer to you whenever your breath comes faster. stands in front of you when he sees your hand flexing, making sure that you’re covered from both the front and the back. practically manhandles you when he hears droids coming closer, making sure you’re behind something that can provide cover. helps shoot some of the targets in your way when your blaster trembles slightly in your hands. by no means were you an incompetent fighter, but anxiety catches up with everyone at times. although crosshair hated to admit it, he would never let harm come to you, and the last thing he wanted to do was invalidate how you feel.
despite your anxiety, the mission turned out to be a success, for the most part. you had recovered what you needed and had managed to make it thus far without anyone getting harmed. but just as the six of you are about to make your great escape, crosshair notices a battle droid in the distance, coming up behind you. he points his rifle straight at your face, and you freeze, eyes wide.
“do you trust me?” he asks. it’s hard to say yes with the gun pointed at your face, but you give him a small nod. as he moves his finger to pull the trigger, he says “i trust you. don’t move.” you close your eyes as you hear the blaster fire, but it never hits you. you open your eyes as you hear the sound of a large droid clattering to the ground. had he fired even a centimeter lower, it would’ve killed you. but if he hadn’t taken the shot like that, he wouldn’t have been able to take the droid out in one go. but he wouldn’t tell you that.
as the two of you run towards the marauder together, you huff, “couldn’t you have taken the droid out from any other angle” without missing a beat, he answers, “i could’ve. but there’s no fun in that.”
.✦ ݁˖ rex (535 words)
the war was tough on your relationship. on one hand, you were very understanding that rex had no control over his schedule. it was extremely admirable that he put his life on the line every day, and helped fight for the republic’s freedom, for your freedom. but the weeks, sometimes months, of loneliness were catching up to you. it was hard, especially since it wasn’t like rex could talk everyday. your communications were few and far between, as he had responsibilities and so did you. and as the war dragged on, his presence only became more scarce, until you felt like he was your partner in name only.
and boy, did rex try to make time for you. the guilt of leaving you alone ate at him constantly, to the point where he sometimes wondered if he should break up with you so you could move on and be with someone who was able to give you all the time you deserved. but selfishly, he wanted to hold onto you. and he also knew that a breakup would only hurt you more than it would help.
which is why he’s over the moon when he finally gets a day off, and runs straight to your place when he gets the chance. and when you open the door, you are the same as always; eternally grateful to see him, and you spend the rest of the day giddy, drunk on his presence. but rex could tell that you had been struggling. your apartment wasn’t as clean as it usually was. your laundry basket was overflowing, the dishes in the sink hadn’t been done in ages, and your plants had all died.
so when the two of you finally make it into bed, he pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “hey… are you okay?” he asks gently. “yeah, i’m really happy you’re here,” you answer, giving him a small kiss. he takes a small breath and tries again. “no, i mean, have you been okay?” when you don’t answer, he waits patiently, not wanting to push you. you stay silent for a few minutes, and rex closes his eyes, thinking that you’re just not going to answer. but they open again when you say, “i’ve been really lonely.”
before you can launch into a long explanation to defend yourself, rex presses a kiss to your forehead. “i know it’s been hard. i need to try harder to make time. you’re my priority, and i haven’t treated you like it. i’m sorry for letting you feel lonely. i’m going to make sure to be in touch from now,” he apologizes, slowly stroking your hair. “i’d like that,” you whisper, scared that if you say more, you’ll start crying.
he kisses you slowly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other still wrapped tightly around you. “we need to trust each other to make this work. i trust you, do you trust me?” he asks, looking at you softly. for a moment he’s scared that you’ll say no, that you’ve had enough. but when you whisper “i trust you,” he kisses you again, eternally grateful that he got blessed with someone like you.
.✦ ݁˖ fives (911 words)
being with fives was exasperating sometimes. and this was definitely one of those times.
“are you being serious right now? i am not going through all this effort for some cookies,” you hiss at him in the alleyway, trying not to let anyone hear the two of you. when he had sent you an ominous message to meet him in this shady spot, you had run out of your house, assuming he was in danger. thankfully, that was not the case. unthankfully, he was being ridiculous again.
“these aren’t just any cookies! they look delicious. they smell delicious. and i bet they taste delicious too,” he whispers dreamily. you shake your head, mildly irritated that you were currently standing in a dark alley during the dead of night all because your partner wanted to steal some cookies. “if they’re that important to you, why don’t you just buy them? it doesn’t exactly look good for a soldier of the republic to be stealing,” you attempt to reason.
“they’re so expensive! 25 credits for two cookies isn’t exactly affordable. plus, it’s not like the republic is paying me for my service.” well, he’s got a point there. probably a human rights violation, but that’s an issue for a later day.
you concede with a sigh. “all right. walk me through the plan.” because although fives was the biggest idiot in the galaxy, he was your idiot, and you secretly wanted a cookie too.
his grand plan was as follows: once the owner is finished with closing, they will walk out the door and lock it behind them. while fives distracts them, you are to swipe the key off them. after waiting for about ten minutes, to make sure that the owner was long gone, the two of you would use the key to sneak into the store and try the leftovers. fives had even brought a little box with him to carry more cookies. but the leftover cookies were going to be thrown out tomorrow morning anyways, so really, the two of you were just preventing food waste.
“i trust you to help me pull this off,” he says, taking your hands in his. “do you trust me? we won’t get in trouble, i promise.” you squeeze his hands, saying “i trust you. what i don’t trust is this plan.” his face falls for a moment, but his frown turns upside down when you add, “but let’s do it.”
about fifteen minutes later, fives and you watch from behind a pillar as the owner closes and locks the door behind them. the two of you watch him slip the key into a pocket in his pants. fives takes this as his queue, and as the owner starts walking away, he runs after them, yelling “hey! can i talk to you for a sec?”
you turn around and facepalm from the sheer embarrassment. real subtle. but you still had a mission to complete, so pulling the hood of your cloak up, you start walking towards them. as you approach, you can hear fives’ pitiful attempt at starting conversation and have to suppress a laugh. “your bakery always smells so good, like cookies,” he states, the smile on his face way too wide to be considered natural. “ah, yes, that would be because i sell cookies…” the owner replies skeptically.
but the owner is caught off guard when you slam into them a moment later. but it was a little harder than you had anticipated, and the two of you land hard on the ground. great, this plan’s already failed. but fives is always willing to create opportunity even when there isn’t one, and he reaches for the owner to help them up. while you apologize profusely, fives subtly reaches into the pocket and snags the key, the owner being too busy trying to reorient themselves to notice the slight loss of pressure in their pocket.
“watch it!” they snap at you. you apologize one more time, and the owner storms off. fives gives you a look, and before he can say anything, you roll your eyes. “don’t start.” he raises his hands in surrender and says, “i’m just sayin’, getting the key was supposed to be your job.”
once the two of you had waited for a few minutes, and the coast was clear, you tiptoe to the door and put the key into the lock. fives holds his breath as you slowly pull the handle, trying not to create too much noise. but the door opens without hassle.
the moment fives enters the shop, he dashes towards the display with the same speed he must use on the battlefield. “look! they have a special chocolate chip cookie dough flavour!” he exclaims, gesturing you to come closer. you can’t help but feel just as excited as he is, looking at all the different flavours and at how excited he is.
about ten minutes and fifteen cookie selections later, the two of you exit the shop and leave the key underneath the doormat, with a note taped to the door explaining the situation. after all, you don’t want to stress the poor owner out too much. you’d already most likely broken their hipbone.
later, when the two of you are watching a movie and stuffing yourselves full of cookies, he turns to you and wiggles his eyebrows. “bet you’re glad you trusted my plan.” “shut up,” you laugh, shoving another cookie in his mouth.
.✦ ݁˖ wolffe (353 words)
wolffe is a man of few words. more of an i’ll show you rather than an i’ll tell you kind of guy. so when you get woken up in the dead of night by the sound of his voice, your heart leaps out of your chest.
normally, you’d love to listen to him talk. but as your eyes adjust to the dark, you realize that his eyes are still closed. he’s sleeping, and from the looks of it, he’s not having the best night of his life. his body trembles as he repeats the same word over and over again. “no, no, no, no, no…”
you had never seen him this distraught. “wolffe, wake up,” you say, trying to gently shake him awake, but he doesn’t budge. you try again, and still no dice. right when you think you’ll need to get a frying pan, he jerks awake. he sits up, entire body tense. but when he feels your hand trail down his arm, squeezing lightly, some of the tension leaves his muscles.
“were you having a nightmare?” you ask him softly. he’s still panting a little when he answers “just a dream.” “come on,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him down. you lay with him, running your hands along his body to calm him down. his breathing slowly but surely starts to slow down, and the tension starts to leave his body completely.
once his breathing returns to normal, he snakes his arms around you too, so you’re both hugging each other. “do you trust me?” he mumbles, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. “yes, wolffe, i do,” you reply without missing a beat. he kisses you, and where his kisses are usually possessive, this one is soft. after pulling away, he whispers against your lips. “i trust you. don’t leave me.” “wouldn’t dream of it,” you reassure him, kissing him again.
the two of you quickly fall back asleep, comfortable and safe in each other’s arms. but if you ever bring this up at a future date, wolffe would swear it never happened.
.✦ ݁˖ cody (659 words)
it was very rare that cody got a day off from duty. he got a few hours from time to time, but a full day was hard to come by. which is exactly what made today so special.
you groan at the insistent knocking at your door. at first you had just brushed it off, since you weren’t expecting anybody, and figured it must be someone lost, or a thief. but after about thirty seconds, the knocking had only increased in both pace and volume.
having had enough, you turn the burner off and storm towards the door. whoever had decided to ruin your peaceful day of cooking was about to hear it from you. you slam the door open, ready to hurl all sorts of insults at whichever idiot was behind the door.
but all those thoughts are erased from your mind the moment your brain registers who’s there. “cody!” you exclaim, jumping into his arms. he giggles into your hair. “hey, love. miss me?” he teases, planting a kiss on your head.
after a long minute of just holding each other, you reluctantly let go. a few hours later, the two of you are cozied up on the sofa together, bellies filled with delicious food (that you thankfully got to finish making) and hearts filled with happiness.
“you know,” cody starts, hand running through your hair, “i think i need a hair cut.” you look at him, confused. “but i like your hair,” you counter. he stares at you with a mischievous look in his eyes, which only confuses you further. “i think we both need the change,” he says, standing up. what the hell does that even mean?
“cody, what are you doing?” you ask as he heads towards the kitchen. he doesn’t answer you, too preoccupied with opening and closing drawers. “what are you looking for?” he still doesn’t answer, and you’re about to stand when you hear an ah-ha!. he comes towards you, holding the pair of scissors like a trophy, and declares “we should cut each other’s hair.”
the idea is so sudden that you’re stunned into silence. “you want to cut each other’s hair… with kitchen scissors,” you confirm, and he nods, still looking a little too proud at his little idea. “isn’t there some GAR standard for hair?” you push, trying to knock some sense into him. but he only waves his hand dismissively. “there are plenty of clones with crazy hair,” he states (full shade to boost, wtf is that haircut brother). “i don’t believe that rex is a natural blonde. and if he can bleach his hair, then i can afford to cut a few locks.”
when cody wants something, he knows how to get it. which is exactly how you find yourself standing in front of the bathroom sink a few minutes later, freshly-cleaned kitchen scissors in hand. you breathe deeply as you lightly wet his hair with a spray bottle. “hey, darling. don’t be nervous. i trust you,” he comforts you, rubbing your arm lightly.
the process takes way longer than it should. but 45 minutes later, you stand in front of a very happy cody as he admires his new haircut in the mirror. even you must admit; you did a pretty good job. “you should do this full time, love,” he says gratefully, “it’s exactly what i wanted.”
“i’m glad,” you smile at him.
but just as you’re about to leave the bathroom, he grabs your arm and drags you back. he tsks and says, “nuh-uh, now it’s my turn.” uh oh. as he reaches for the spray bottle to repeat the process on you, he laughs as he says, “i trusted you, but the real question is, do you trust me?”
you trusted him in every context except this one. you flash him a nervous smile and nod, resigning yourself to the fact that you’ll probably be wearing hats for the next little while.
.✦ ݁˖ fox (1.1 k words - oops)
fox had never meant for you to get caught up in all this. but no matter what he wanted to happen, the truth was that you were in danger, and he blamed himself.
someone had hired a bounty hunter to eliminate a highly valued prisoner. the coruscant guard had just barely managed to stop the hunter, but hadn’t been able to figure out who they were before they escaped. but the guard hadn’t concerned themselves with the bounty hunter as much as who had hired them. this turned out to be a big mistake, because the bounty hunter had decided that the best way to get to the prisoner was by holding people the coruscant guard loved hostage and threaten them. if he could get the commander to fold, then he had won.
which was how you had ended up in this predicament. one moment you had been getting ready for bed and the next you heard glass shatter as someone entered your apartment via the window. you had tried to fight off the intruder, and almost succeeded, but they managed to stun you and then the fight was over.
you slowly blink as you wake up, a dull ache in your head from being stunned. but all the sleepiness wears off as soon as you register where you are. the concrete was cold beneath your feet, and your waist and wrists were in pain from the tight rope cutting into them. you look around, concluding that you must be in a storage facility of some sort. panic quickly settles in your chest as you realize that you’re alone, and it was unlikely that anybody would be coming to rescue you. fox was overprotective, and he had probably already gone insane since you hadn’t called him to say goodnight the way you usually did. you would be surprised if he hadn’t already stormed into your apartment.
but even if he had realized that you were gone, he would have no way of locating you. the kidnapper hadn’t exactly had the courtesy of leaving you with a way to call for help. trying to fight against the restraints was useless, and would only cause you to maim yourself. so you were stuck.
meanwhile, fox was having the worst day of his life. the bar was high, since he had seen some crazy shit during his years, but this took the cake. he was furious. why would anyone try to target you? you were just a civilian. and while your relationship with the commander wasn’t exactly a secret, it’s not like either of you were celebrities – strangers wouldn’t know about it, and even if they did, they wouldn’t have a reason to care.
he’s just about to leave your apartment when there’s an incoming transmission. he’s never answered faster, hoping that it’s you. that you just went on a stroll, although the broken window indicated otherwise. but that hope is quickly squandered when he hears the voice of the very bounty hunter that had gotten away just a few days ago.
“i have them. and if you’re smart, you’ll take the deal i’m about to give you,” the bounty hunter drawls. fox is so angry that he almost bursts a vein in his head. “if you don’t let them go right now, i will make the rest of your life so miserable you’d only wish you were dead,” he threatens. the hunter just laughs, which angers fox further. “if you give me the prisoner, you’ll get them back. and no ambushes, or else they die. you have until the morning.”
fox has no choice. at least for now, he has to take the deal – thinking of a plan can wait. before the bounty hunter can cut the call, he accepts “i’ll accept your deal on one condition. let me talk to her.” the hunter is silent for a moment before conceding. a few moments later, he hears your voice.
“fox, what’s going on?” you ask. the panic in your voice makes his heart squeeze. “i can’t explain everything right now. just promise me you’ll be okay.” his breath stutters when he doesn’t hear an answer. how could you promise that? you were already not okay. when he realizes how impossible his request is, he takes a deep breath. “i trust you,” he spits out. the vulnerability is so foreign to him that the confession sounds hateful. but the hate wasn’t directed at you, never at you. he hated himself for even letting this happen. “do you trust me?”
“i do,” you exhale. the bounty hunter cuts the call, saying “that’s enough.” as stalks out of the room, he looks behind his shoulder, calling “for your sake, you should pray that he brings that prisoner.” but the words hardly register, your mind preoccupied with replaying fox’s words in your head. i trust you, he had said. that meant so many things. i trust you to trust me. i trust you to do the right thing. i trust you to believe in me. i trust you to be strong.
those words are the only thing keeping you together as you wait for what feels like days, all alone in the dark room. your head has been between your knees for so long that your neck has started to hurt. but you perk up when you hear the distant sound of blaster fire.
a million thoughts flash through your mind at once. it must be fox, here to save you. but the bounty hunter had said that you would die if he ambushed. fox would never let that happen. but what if he got hurt? no, he’s strong enough. but what if the bounty hunter, who had already evaded him once, was too strong?
the sound of the doors sliding open cuts through your thoughts. at first, you only see a shadow, and for a split second you panic thinking that the bounty hunter had come here to finish the job. but as the shadow comes a little closer you realize it’s a man in clone trooper armour; and not just any armour, it was fox’s. he breaks into a run, pulling out a knife to cut through your restraints the moment he gets close enough.
you two reach for one another at the same time, and fox holds you so tight that it crushes you a little. “are you hurt?” he mumbles into your neck. “no, you saved me.” fox takes a shaky breath, thanking the stars that his ambush had actually worked and that you were still here, and unharmed at that. he wordlessly picks you up, carrying you out of the room.
“i can walk by myself, y’know,” you say, but the expression on your face indicated that you didn’t mind this situation at all. “not a chance. you’re staying with me tonight.” he says definitively. “aww, are you worried about me, commander?” you tease. he scowls. “stow it.”
a/n: it was so hard coming up with 10 different scenarios for this prompt rahhh
The first few weeks of your life you spent adjusting to your new schedule, which meant adjusting to Fox's schedule. Greet him politely at the door on his arrival home, he'd go off to bathe and then return to cook dinner for the two of you. Dinnertime and a few hours of binge watching whatever anime currently held his interest. Extracurricular activites, cleaning you up, and then sleep. See him off in the morning and repeat later, with some variation.
Today had been no different. You met him at the door on his arrival, "such a good pet", he'd once praised you, before heading back to the couch while Fox went down the hall to wash the day away.
Sitting in the living room, not particularly paying attention to whatever was currently playing on the tv, you heard the water start running down the hall, the sound continuing on for a few minutes as was normal. Then, you heard the water shut off and the bathroom door open. The beastkin's footsteps were silent however, his gruff voice startling you from the doorway.
"Bathroom. Now."
Shock collar heavy on your shoulders, you swiftly stood and made your way down the hall, and into the bathroom, already humid from the steam rolling off the water. Fox stayed close behind you, shutting the door, the click of the lock echoing across the room. You turned to him, hesitant, but expectedly.
"Undress.". Fox commanded pointedly.
"Absolutely not." You protested, perhaps against your better judgement. You noticed the glint of the remote in his hand, the remote to the shock collar that currently sat around your neck.
He'd seen every part of you, hell he'd been inside of you, and yet something about the act of bathing together was almost too normal in its intimacy, something casual between lovers and something that you had no desire to share with him.
You'd seen his hentai collection. A vast selection of DVDs not even the slightest bit out of sight on the shelf in the living room, testament to either Fox's profound lack of shame, or an obvious lack of visitors. You suspected a bit of both. How clean would you be getting in the water with that dirty old man?
"If you won't undress yourself, I'll do it for you." Fox said sharply, arms crossed as his eyes stared right through you.
Considering the remote in his clawed hand and your preference to keep some sort of autonomy in this new life, you hurriedly began to strip, no time to even feel embarrassed or attempt to cover yourself, before letting your clothing fall into a pile on the cold tile floor. Fox did the same, before raising the remote in his hand. You stiffened, waiting for the shock collar to deliver its familiar sting, only to jolt in surprise at the sudden click that emanated from the back of the metal contraption around your neck. The beastkin stepped forward and removed the collar from around your neck, setting both it and the remote atop the counter.
"Don't even think about trying anything funny," he warned. "You won't like the consequences."
Fox eyed you with distrust as you stepped into the water first, gritting your teeth as you slowly lowered yourself into the bath, adjusting to the heat of the water. only after you had situated yourself all the way to one end of the tub did he finally slip into the water himself. Right. Next. To. You.
With the kind of money that Fox had, the bathtub was quite large in size, leaving ample room for more than one person to fit comfortably and still maintain their own personal bubble. Naturally, however, the beastkin settled himself closely to his pet. You wondered if he might do you the favor of drowning you.
So began your new routine with the beastkin. It was a rare occasion that you bathed without him, and even on days where you didn't particularly feel the need to bathe you often found Fox dragging you with him into the tub regardless. The two of you would ease into the warm water, he would always wash your hair first and then his own. After thouroughly scrubbing yourselves down the two of you would sit in a silence that was slowly growing more comfortable in nature.
The scent of raspberry enveloped you as Fox drizzled his favorite shampoo onto your hair. It was some fancy brand you weren't sure you'd ever heard of, likely some luxury cosmetic you could only dream of being able to afford yourself, and it made your hair incredibly silky. A matching bottle of conditioner sat on the edge of the tub. Fox began languidly lathering the suds into your hair, always taking his sweet time running his fingers through your tresses. His touches while he did so were always surprisingly soft, massaging your scalp with care. Despite the claws at the end of each fingertip, he'd not once yet scratched your head. You would have hated to admit it before, but it felt nice.
Once he'd finished rinsing and conditioning your hair, he was ready to start on his own. However, you'd been thinking about something the past few days.
Your hands collided as you both simultaneously reached for the shampoo bottle.
"Can I....do yours?" You asked with hesitation, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly with the intense eye contact between the two of you. You weren't sure why it felt like such a big deal. It was just shampoo.
The stare-off between the two of you lasted several incredibly long moments, and you almost committed to failure, when, with his gaze still sharp and his demeanor unreadable, Fox pulled his hand back, allowing you to grab the shampoo bottle instead. Giving you a wary glance, the beastkin slowly turned his back to you to allow you to touch his head.
"Don't get soap in my eyes." He quipped.
You nodded, though he couldn't see you with his back turned, and raised the open bottle to pour just enough shampoo onto the crown of his head. Gently, almost as if you were afraid of being bit, you began to work the shampoo into his hair, surprised at just how soft it was. Your fingertips brushed against his scalp as they worked through his gray-streaked hair. As you did so, you caressed the base of his ears, almost in awe as you felt him lean into the touch. Beneath the water you felt Fox's tail jerkily slap your thigh a few times, the beastkin trying and failing to restrain its wagging motions. As you finished with the task at hand, you realized there was a soft sound permeating the silence around you.
Was he...purring?
You found yourself feeling strangely emotional, something perhaps about fullfiling the desire to be touched, and to touch back freely. You found yourself leaning forward, wrapping your arms around Fox's waist as you pressed yourself against his back. He stiffened in surprise for just a moment, before relaxing once more as you settled your head on his shoulder. You were both warm, skin softened by the humidity of the bath. Fox's body shuddered lightly as your breath tickled his neck. You felt his tail brush against your hips as it wrapped snuggly around your body. You would have been content to rest like that for a long while.
"The water is getting cold." Fox's voice broke the silence, gruff, but lacking it's usual bite. Strangely reluctant, you disentangled yourself from him so the two of you could finish bathing and dry off before the water chilled completely. Fox stepped out of the tub first, wrapping a towel around his body before helping you with yours. You shivered as he pulled you close and wrapped you up snuggly, taking just a moment longer than he usually would. Finally, he pulled away, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face.
"Get dressed and come down for dinner." He demanded, almost softly, before exiting the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. As you slipped into clean dry clothing, a metallic glint caught the corner of your vision. Your collar, resting unattended on the bathroom counter.
Hiii! First I wanted to say that I love your writing so much, its beautiful done. Now that you reopened your requests, is it possible to have a continuation on your fic Rerouted Patrols with fox? I really really like it and it's like one of my fav
An Exercise In Restraint
Fox x gn shy/insecure!reader
Description: Just a simple lil part 2 to Rerouted Patrols
Warnings: none
The walk back from your first date actually passed far too quickly for your liking. You'd spent so long imaging what being alone with Fox might be like that the reality of it still felt a little unbelievable. Throughout dinner he'd complained about Senate security requests with slightly dramatic irritation, muttered under his breath every time his comm threatened to interrupt the evening, and looked so unapologetically pleased with himself every time you laughed that you'd eventually stopped feeling so self conscious about how much you were smiling.
Now, Fox was walking you home, close enough to you that your arms brushed as you walked. A comfortable silence had briefly fallen, and although you still found yourself blushing a little whenever you caught him looking at you, you no longer felt the urge to fill every quiet moment with an apology.
"…You've been smiling at the ground for the last five minutes," Fox observed suddenly, glancing at you sidelong as he walked.
Your cheeks warmed immediately and your eyes flicked to him briefly. "Well, I--I had a nice night," you explained quietly, suddenly very aware of the way the back of his hand kept brushing yours.
Fox straightened slightly, almost preening a little. You felt his fingers flex and for a second you wondered if he was considering taking hold of your hand. "Good," he replied firmly instead. "I'd have been annoyed if you hadn't."
You smiled faintly at how pleased he seemed, glancing at him again. "Annoyed?”
Fox hummed. "With myself. I put a lot of effort into tonight," he admitted, a little bit of smugness under his tone. "I swapped shifts, turned my comm off twice despite knowing it'll come back to haunt me tomorrow morning, and sat through an hour and half without checking a single report." He paused, glancing at you like he was expecting you to be appropriately impressed. "Like I said. A lot of effort.”
You blinked at him, your eyes going a little wide. "Oh…" You bit your lip, suddenly feeling a little guilty. "You shouldn't ignore work because of me, I'm sorr--"
"Don't," Fox cut you off with a groan before you could finish the apology, almost rolling his eyes a little. "Maker. Don't make me tell you to stop apologizing again."
You ducked your head immediately, sheepish. "Right. Sorry. I mean--" You clapped your hand over your mouth as you realized.
Fox actually almost snorted. "There you go again."
"I know," you mumbled, laughing under your breath despite yourself.
"Hm." The corner of his mouth curved up despite himself. "We'll fix that."
Your apartment building was now in view, and a quiet disappointment was settling over you at the prospect of the night coming to an end. You slowed your steps without really meaning to and Fox matched your pace, neither of you making an effort to hurry the last few steps. Eventually you stopped outside the entrance.
"So…" you said quietly, suddenly feeling a little awkward. You looked down at your shoes before gathering enough courage to meet his eyes again. "Thank you. Really. Tonight was…I had such a good time, Fox."
Fox got that slightly smug look again. "Good," he said firmly again, with warmth beneath it. "Because we're doing it again."
You couldn't help the smile that spread over your face as you nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Good."
Fox's gaze flicked over your face, taking in your happy smile and your flushed cheeks. He swallowed visibly before speaking again. "…One more thing?"
You looked at him expectantly.
"Can I kiss you?"
Now that made every single coherent though instantly vanish from your mind, and your eyes widened as heat flooded into your face rapidly. You just stared at him for a second. "I--" You cut yourself off, taking a breath, suddenly extremely flustered. "I, um. If--if you want--"
Fox cut you off with a scoff. "Of course I want," he muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other: the only sign of any nerves on his part. "You think I'd ask if I didn't?"
You shook your head quickly, internally trying to will yourself to stop blushing and start breathing again. "No, I…you…" You paused, gathering yourself. "You…you can. Kiss me, I mean."
His shoulders loosened a little, and his fingers flexed at his sides. "Come here," he murmured, stepping closer. When you closed the remaining distance with a small step, he lifted one hand to your face surprisingly gently, his thumb brushing lightly over your warm cheek. He leaned in close, pausing just shy of his lips actually brushing yours.
"Still with me?" he asked quietly, his voice low and just a little rough.
You nodded faintly.
"Use your words."
"…Yes."
"Good." He tilted his head, pausing for one more second to give you one more chance to pull away or just gather yourself. To his surprise, though, you leaned in and closed the tiny distance yourself, with a kiss was so timid it was barely more than the softest brush of your lips against his. Fox went totally still, stiffening for just a second before you felt a quiet breath leave him.
His free hand slid carefully to the back of your neck, just gently holding you in place, as he returned the kiss with obvious restraint. His thumb stroked your cheek once before he pulled back with clear reluctance. He opened his eyes and was met by you looking at him, eyes wide, lips still slightly parted, and an involuntary rough sound came from the back of his throat.
"Kriff…" he muttered, leaning in close again. "One more?"
You stared at him, acutely aware of how red your face must be, and nodded. "…Yes. Please."
Fox instantly closed the distance again, pressing his lips to yours just a little more firmly this time. Your breath hitched a little, but you kissed him back, lifting your hand almost a little hesitantly. Your fingers brushed the side of his jaw before resting there a little uncertainly. Fox groaned softly and tilted his head into your touch, his hand tightening ever so slightly at the back of your neck before he caught himself and forced it to relax again.
When Fox finally pulled back again, he let out a shaky breath against your lips, brushing his thumb over your cheek again. "You're good at that."
You felt a little lightheaded. "…Yeah?"
Fox nodded, his gaze flicking over your face like he was making certain to remember this moment. "Mhm." He hummed affirmatively, voice still rough. "Too good." He took a slow, shaky breath, his thumb brushing across your cheek one last time before he reluctantly stepped back, forcing himself to put a little space between you.
"Go inside," he said firmly but quietly. "Before I decide I need a third one."
You smiled, feeling a little dazed. "…Goodnight, Fox."
"Goodnight." He waited until you were stepping through your door before turning to leave, and when you glanced back before shutting your door, you caught him looking over his shoulder to catch one last little glance at you.
I'm not sure just how far this road will go (Part 2)
Pairing: Fox x Padawan!Reader / Fox x fem!Reader
Summary: After weeks of distance and silence, the fleeting moment you shared with Fox seems destined to fade into memory. But your Commander in scarlet armor has other ideas.
Word count: 8.7k (when i said he possessed me...)
Tags/Warnings: NSFW 18+; the plot got in the porn again; fingering; semi?-public sex; pinv sex; unprotected sex (armor up your little trooper before deployment guys); armor kink if you squint; pov parkour because I like knowing what everyone is thinking; so much fucking angst; slightly even more awkward!Reader; soft!Fox; would anyone be interested in a part 3?
Part 1 | Part 3 | Taglist | series navigation post
ori'vod - older brother ; vod'ika - little sister
vod - brother ; vode - brothers
cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling
ner - my
mesh’la - beautiful
Jetti - Jedi
shebs - ass
As much as you couldn't wait to message him when you got his frequency, you surprisingly simply... didn't. You got back to your cabin, all giddy and excited, you opened his comm channel and... you froze. You stared at the small typing bar flickering on the screen for what felt like hours urging your brain to let you do anything.
Cody said he asked for your frequency first, that meant he wanted to talk you – logically you knew this. But your damn anxious brain wouldn't let you message him.
You deleted what had to be five attempts at nice, normal greetings, scoffing at the weird phrasing. Everything you wrote felt off, as if you suddenly forgot all the Basic you've been speaking for your entire life. The words looked wrong and you triple checked the spelling on almost all of them, worried that you'd gotten the simplest ones like 'mission', 'system' and even 'weeks' wrong. It was infuriating.
After half an hour of staring at your comm you gave up, threw it on your bed and jumped in the shower, vowing to finally send a simple 'hi' once you were done.
But that was six weeks ago.
You're sitting on a cot in the medbay now, watching the clone medics milling around. The battle was long and exhausting, but it's finally ended and you're en route to Coruscant. You're not injured – you're there for moral support for Waxer, who caught a stray blaster bolt right at the end of the siege. He'll be fine, nothing major – you're actually in there to keep yourself distracted if you're honest.
You still haven't commed him. You thought about it daily, but you kept putting it off. And now you're on your way back to Coruscant where you'll spend the next seven rotations while the men finally have some much-earned leave.
And you're terrified.
Has he thought of you at all these past weeks? Does he still want to see you? You'd know if you'd managed to kriffing comm him… But your anxiety and insecurities didn't allow it. And well, there was also the other issue… the small, impossible-to-ignore issue of, you know, the fact that you’re a Jedi. You’re not supposed to form attachments. Not supposed to get involved with a clone. Not supposed to be hiding in the medbay, unable to focus on anything around you because all you can think about is seeing Fox again.
Will you even run into him? You don't really see how your paths might intersect – you have no business in the Senate, he has no business in the Temple.
Maybe at the 79s? But he's rarely there. In all the times you’ve been there with Cody, Rex and the other troublemakers of the 501st, you've never seen him in.
No... you doubt you'll run into him unless you actually pick up the comm and send him a message.
But it's been so long. Six standard weeks of no contact. And after what? One single night of drunken mistakes? One amazing night that you can't get out of your head... But who are you kidding – the odds of him clinging to it the same way as you have are slim. There's no way he's still thinking about you.
Fox watches the stream of troopers pour out of the transports, his eyes scanning for any sign of Jedi robes among the orange-painted plastoid.
He’s not really supposed to be there. He happened to be on patrol in the area, noticed the transports coming down, and decided to wait for Cody since he'd not seen him in a while.
Well… that’s the story he'll give him and anyone else who asks what he’s doing at the main Base. But the truth is he'd arranged his schedule this way. He wanted to be in the area, knowing that the 212th was returning on-world.
He wanted to run into you.
Fox had tried a second time to get your frequency from Cody – a couple of days after his vod had refused to give it to him – and he learned that you've also asked for his. And Cody gave it to you.
So Fox waited.
And waited.
And waited…
The first rotation passed as it usually did, with Fox dealing with the banthashit thrown at him by various senators or the Chancellor. He’d not even had the time to check his comm until the evening, and when he finally did, he was disappointed to see there was no message from you. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d been expecting it…
The next rotations were spent checking his comm increasingly often. At first it was a couple of time throughout the day, but as the days turned into weeks and you still had not reached out to him, Fox began to check it constantly… obsessively.
After four weeks he caved and sent a comm to Cody.
CC–1010: Are you sure you gave her the correct frequency?
His brother’s response came excruciatingly slow – the 212th was in the middle of a siege after all.
CC–2224: I did. She hasn’t messaged?
CC–1010: Oh she has, we’ve been talking all day, every day, and I’ve commed you for no kriffin’ reason.
CC–2224: Don’t take it out on me, vod. She probably came to her senses. It sucks, I get it. But she’s Jetti. You’re a GAR officer. I suggest you follow her example and snap out of it.
CC-1010: Thanks, vod. Always such a pleasure speaking to you.
He hated this. Hated that he expected something from you. That a part of him – the part that should’ve known better – kept hoping you hadn’t forgotten what it meant, even if it had only been once. You’d been his moment of warmth in a never-ending sea of anxiety, pressure and political nonsense. You’d been the first real connection he’d felt with another person in way too long.
And he thought you’d felt it too.
Cody was right, however. Fox had to snap out of it. He had to get his head back in the game. He was the commanding officer of the Corries. He had a duty to the Chancellor, to the people of Coruscant, to his vode. He had to focus on that. He had to get you out of his mind.
And yet, every time the comm lit up, he checked it.
And every time, it wasn’t you.
To his credit, Fox really did try to let it go. He tried to focus on anything else – even on the conversations of senators he usually tuned out. But you wouldn’t leave him. You haunted his dreams, your face appeared clear as day in front of him every time he closed his eyes. It was pathetic, infuriating. And it was really getting to him.
His mood had soured more than usual, his patience even thinner than before – he actually made a couple shinnies cry at one point. The others noticed. Thorn, Thire, Stone, even Hound – they all tried to figure out what had happened, their worry for their vod growing.
But Fox was Fox. The more they tried to reach out to him, the more he pulled away. Especially from Thorn, who knew about that night. Knew about you. Knew what to imply with his questions.
His vod tried, but Fox refused to speak about it. Every time Thorn approached him, he would find something that needed his attention, some place he needed to be. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to name it. Because once he did, it became real – and real things could be lost.
You asked Cody for his frequency. You had the means to contact him. So why didn’t you? Why even ask for it if you weren’t going to use it? You must’ve wanted to send a message – Fox was sure of it. Was it a rejection? Was that why you hadn’t commed yet –were you going to reject him, tell him that it couldn’t happen again, but you didn’t know how? Were you going to tell him it had meant nothing to you, or worse, that you did regret it?
All these questions swarming in his mind – it was driving him crazy.
You were driving him crazy.
So when he learned that the 212th was returning to Coruscant, Fox decided he needed to see you.
So now he’s here, stiffly stood at parade rest in the hangar of the main Base, as if he’s preparing for a thorough inspection.
Ideally, he wants to talk to you – but he knows he shouldn’t. Because what he really wants is to ask if you’d thought about him, if that night had meant anything to you. He wants to ask why you haven’t commed.
He wants… he just wants to be in your warm presence again, hear the melody of your voice – even if only for a moment.
It’s embarrassing, really, how much of an effect you had on him.
Fox steps to the side to let the medics pass, eyes briefly scanning the injured troopers laid out on hover-stretchers. The first transports are always filled with the wounded – those being moved from field medbays to proper infirmaries, or even to the GMF if the damage is bad enough. He’s actually relieved you weren’t on any of them…
He counts the LAATs that have already landed. He’s read the casualty reports – he knows how many transports should be allocated for the injured.
Then come the officers.
If he estimated correctly, you should be on the next one.
He squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, the exhale filtering loudly through the voice modulator of his helmet. The transport is approaching. His left hand balls into a fist before he flexes his fingers a couple of times, trying to shake the nerves.
He shouldn’t be this nervous – it makes no sense. He’s never nervous. Not when chasing dangerous criminals through the lower levels. Not when dealing with temperamental, vindictive senators who throw a fit if they don’t get their way. He’s always calm, collected, in control.
Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous that night. He was the one in control – you allowed him to be. Sure, he was also emboldened by the vapours of alcohol, but there’d also been something about you – an openness that encouraged him to let his guard down, to flirt and tease. To be himself. Not a clone. Not a commander. Just–
“Fox?”
The voice almost makes him flinch.
Fox turns, seeing blue-painted plastoid approaching from behind him. His eyes then lift from the tally marks scratched into the vambrace to the bleached buzzcut of his little brother.
“Rex,” he greets with a nod.
Rex’s face lights up. “Didn’t think you ever left the Senate,” he says, clearly pleased to see his ori’vod. “What brings you all the way out here?”
“Saw the transports coming in, figured I’d catch Cody,” Fox replies casually. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”
Rex pauses, giving Fox a quick once-over. “You alright?”
“Still breathing,” Fox says, then hurries to change the subject. “I didn’t know you were on-world.”
“Special assignment with Skywalker,” Rex answers. “Redeploying tomorrow. It’s why I’m here actually. Was gonna ask Cody to join me at the 79s tonight.”
The hiss of the repulsorlifts draw Fox’s attention and he glances over in time to see the doors of the LAAT swish open. He swears his heart stops for a moment.
But the first to jump off is Cody.
Fox can pinpoint the exact moment his vod spots him. Cody’s walking beside his general, gaze scanning lazily across the hangar – until he freezes mid-step. His helmet snaps toward where Fox and Rex stand. And he just stares.
This isn’t ideal…
Fox hoped he’d manage to get your attention while somehow avoiding him.
Cody, who will immediately see through his lie and know the true reason he’s there.
Cody, who thinks of you as a little sister and is fiercely protective of you.
Cody, who he’d never seen furious – properly furious – until that night outside his office.
Their last interaction had been that comm exchange two weeks ago. It didn’t exactly end on a friendly note.
“– so you’re coming, yeah?” Rex’s voice cuts in, clapping a hand to Fox’s shoulder.
“What?” Fox blinks, only now tuning back in.
“To the 79s,” Rex grins. “You’re coming with us.”
“Uhm… sure,” Fox mumbles, his gaze already moving back to the 212th’s Commander.
Cody is marching towards them, his helmet now off, eyeing Fox with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Fox straightens instinctively, his posture going rigid.
The uproar of the chaotic hangar fills the gunship as soon as the doors open, momentarily drowning out the noise of your anxious mind. You’re among the last to disembark the transport, hovering around Waxer despite his protests that you have no reason to fuss over him. But you need something – anything – to keep your mind busy. To keep your mind from thinking of–
Him.
Hard plastoid hits your chest as you walk straight into Boil’s back, knocking the wind out of you for a second.
“Sorry,” you mutter under your breath. You bring your hand up to the left side of your sternum and rub what will undoubtedly become a new bruise – as if you didn’t already have enough after the siege.
“You alright, vod’ika?” Boil asks.
But you don’t even register his question. Your eyes lock on a figure you didn’t expect to see here.
Commander Fox – talking to Rex and Cody.
His scarlet armor is glistening in the iridescent light of the hangar and he is standing tall, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders squared. He looks just as imposing and maddeningly confident as you remember. As if nothing happened…
“I wonder what he’s doing here.” Waxer unknowingly voices the question buzzing in your mind.
Well… one of the questions anyway.
“Eh, can’t be anything bad” Boil comments. “No other Corries in sight.”
Their conversation doesn’t quite reach you – it’s like you’re listening to it from underwater. Plus, the sound of your heart thudding loudly in your ears seems to muffle all noise of the busy hangar.
You don’t know what to do.
Should you go over there and say hello? Risk embarrassing yourself – blurting out something idiotic, or worse, admitting you’ve been thinking about him nonstop for six weeks?
Or should you bolt?
He hasn’t seen you yet. You could make a run for it and catch up to Obi-Wan who’s heading toward the shuttle that'll take him back to the Temple. But he’s just given you permission to stay behind after you said you wished to remain with the men a little longer. If you suddenly change your mind he might figure out that something’s wrong.
No… the risk is too high – you don’t trust yourself to properly mask your emotions right now.
Maybe if you stick close to Waxer and Boil until you’re and out of the hanger… then head straight for the infirmary. There’s bound to be more than enough for you to do there. Help the medics. Focus on the walking wounded. Take the minor cases and lose yourself in the work.
Long enough for a certain Commander to return to the Senate where he belongs.
But you don’t get to make a decision.
You glance back toward the three men–
And your stomach lurches.
A shiver jolts through your body. He’s seen you. Fox is looking straight at you.
You’re sure of it. Even through the dark visor of his helmet, you can feel it. Your eyes meet – you know they do.
For a few moments you don’t move. You can’t – it’s as if you're frozen in carbonite.
Then, after what feels like an unreasonably long time of just staring, your brain kicks back into gear and you realise how ridiculous you must look. And how ridiculous this whole situation is. You are a Jedi – a damn good one too – and here you are, freezing like an Alderaanian deer in the headlights at the sight of a man you slept with once. Get it together. You’re supposed to be better than this.
Unfortunately for you, the others can see that something is wrong.
"Are you okay?" Waxer asks. "You look a little out of it."
"Uhh... fine," you manage to croak. You swallow hard, then start walking without another word.
Every step you take feels heavy, like wading through water. Your hesitance is impossible to hide. He's not making it easy either. The only sign of tension is the slight stiffening in his shoulders – barely noticeable, but you catch it. Though you don’t know what it means. He still stands tall, still looks unbothered. Calm. Collected. It makes your stomach twist.
Because a small part of you – a tiny, treacherous part – hopes that maybe, somehow, he’s here for you.
And that scares you. You’re worried that if you let that seed of hope take root in your heart, it’ll just be crushed. You can feel the heartache before it even takes place. Maker, you wish you’d bolted when you had the chance.
Captain Rex notices you approach, and warmly says your name.
“Captain,” you reply with a slight curl of your lips.
It’s a rehearsed smile – the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes – but it’s the best you can manage right now. Too bad Cody knows you so well – you really wish he didn’t look at you with such blatant concern written all over his face.
“How’d the siege go after we left?” Rex asks, glancing between you and Cody.
“Believe it or not, we can actually handle a few of droids without the 501st,” you sigh, rolling your eyes with theatrical flair. “Careful, Rex – it sounds like you’re letting Anakin’s overconfidence get to your head.”
“Never,” the Captain chuckles.
Next to him, Fox shifts his weight from one foot to the other. The slight movement catches your attention, and without your permission, your eyes glance his way again.
“Do you know Commander Fox?” Rex asks. “He’s–”
“We’ve met,” Fox cuts in.
His voice hits you like a physical blow. It’s not cold. It’s not bitter. Just… impersonal, completely devoid of any emotion. No wonder some troopers joke that the Corrie Guard Commander is secretly a droid – he might as well be, speaking and standing so damn rigidly.
Actually…
You look at him – really look at him. He’s too rigid. His voice is too emotionless. Not at all how you remember him from that night. He’s… different. Apprehensive. Maybe even anxious?
That little seed of hope stirs again in your heart.
“Yes,” you confirm. “We met at the fundraising gala.”
Your voice is lighter now, and the small smile you offer is more genuine. Maybe you’re reading too much into it – analysing the smallest movements – but it seems to have an immediate effect on him. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders and there’s a slight tilt of his helmet your way. Like he’s waiting. Like he’s hoping you’ll say more. Acknowledge that night in some way. You need to think of something quickly.
“The Commander actually saved my shebs,” you blurt out. Heat rushes to your cheeks as both Cody and Rex turn their heads to look at you. Maker, why did you open your mouth? “The Senator of my home planet he… uhh – there were these-these journalists taking photos – and, uhm, anyway I could’ve been in trouble.” You wince. “Still think that was abuse of power though,” the conclusion is accompanied by an awkward laugh.
Your eyes drop to the floor and you bite your lip, cursing your heart for racing and your mouth for spewing out incoherent nonsense. And yet, it worked.
“Brenko lost the election,” Fox says, voice steadier. “The new Senator actually seems decent.”
You glance back into the black of his visor, hoping that your eyes meet – it feels that way anyway. That sounded… more like him.
“Good. I couldn’t stand that fucker,” you chuckle.
A quiet, amused huff crackles out through his voice modulator. He laughed – sort of.
And just like that, that seed of hope is a flower in bloom.
“You were planning his murder if I remember correctly,” Fox says, the edge in his voice softening into something almost cordial – maybe even a little teasing. “Bold of you to admit that to the commander of the Guard.”
Definitely teasing.
“I said I was considering it, not actively planning,” you shoot back, slipping easily into the banter. “Don’t twist my words, Commander. That won’t stand in court.”
Another small huff escapes his lips and you can’t help the bright smile that lights up your face. Fox seems more at ease now – the tension in his shoulders has melted away and he finally releases his hands from behind his back.
“I could probably fabricate some evidence,” Fox continues, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve already established I’m not above abuse of power.”
“I knew the Coruscant Guard was corrupted,” you exclaim dramatically.
Next to him, Rex frowns slightly, shooting Fox a quick, confused look. He’s not actually… flirting, is he? The confusion deepens when he glances at Cody – who is glaring at Fox. His jaw is clenched, and the helmet is gripped so tightly, his knuckles must be white under the glove. So Rex isn’t imagining it. Cody sees it too – and he’s clearly not thrilled.
Rex takes half a step back – he’d rather not be standing between the two commanders right now. But the movement startles both you and Fox, breaking the spell. You glance around the hangar, then at Rex, whose eyes flick between his brothers, suspicion written plainly across his face.
You feel it now – the ripple in the Force coming from Cody. Not as furious as that night outside Fox’s office, but still… very much not happy. You swallow hard and risk a glance. Just as you expected, an annoyed grimace darkens his face.
Fox sees it too, and his posture instantly goes back to rigid.
The uncomfortable silence that settles over the four of you is deafening, and as much as you’d like to talk to him for longer, you need to escape the tense atmosphere. You cannot deal with Cody right now, and you can basically see the wheels turning inside Rex’s head – he’ll figure it out if you don’t dissipate the tension soon.
“I uhh…” you start quietly, pausing to clear your throat. “I should head back to the Temple.”
Fox’s helmet dips toward you, then shifts ever so slightly to Cody. His left fist clenches and unclenches by his side a couple of times as he quickly runs a few scenarios through his mind. It can’t end well – he knows it – but he still wants to do it. He wants to be close to you just a little longer.
“I can give you a ride,” Fox offers. “I’ll drop you off before I head back to the Senate.”
Cody inches closer to you, in an unspoken plea for you to decline. But nothing he could do or say right now could stop you. Not when your heart is racing with anticipation and butterflies are fluttering in your stomach. All at the prospect of spending more time with him. Alone.
“Thank you, Commander. That’s… really kind of you,” you reply with a small smile.
Fox stands a bit taller. A warm flicker of pride swells in his chest every time you smile because of him. His eyes linger on you just a moment longer before he turns his head toward his brothers.
“Rex. Cody,” he nods at them before he starts walking.
“Bye guys,” you say as you move to follow. But your steps falter as you make eye contact with your ori’vod. “See you later, Cody?” you add timidly.
Cody exhales hard, shaking his head with a loud, disappointed sigh. “See you later, vod’ika.”
You mouth a silent “sorry” before jogging to catch up with Fox.
Rex’s watches the two of you disappear out of the hangar. “What… was that?”
“Don’t ask,” Cody replies flatly.
The BARC speeder wasn’t designed for two people, so you feel a little cramped sat behind Fox. At first, you try to give him space, gripping the seat's edges instead of him as the two of you leave the military compound, but Fox is having none of that. He lifts the bike up and accelerates sharply, then veers into a higher traffic lane, swerving around a transport like he’s in a podrace. A tiny squeal involuntarily leaves your lips, but you still don’t do what he wants.
“You’ll fall. Hold on to me,” Fox orders over his shoulder.
You don’t immediately comply, so Fox switches traffic lanes even more abruptly. This time, your arms fly around his waist, anchoring you tightly to him so you won’t slip. You hear him make a satisfied grunt and the bike significantly slows.
“Were you flying like a lunatic on purpose just to get me to do that?” you exclaim.
“You were being stubborn,” he deadpans.
“You… you are such an asshole,” you mumble.
A low chuckle comes through the voice modulator. “We’ve already established that, cyar’ika.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks at the Mando’a pet name – you’d forgotten how much you liked it when he called you that. Thank the Maker he can’t see your face; it’s probably the same shade as the paint on his armor.
You tighten your grip around his torso and lean forward, pressing yourself against his back and resting your chin lightly on his shoulder. You look around; Coruscant doesn’t look so bad from up here.
The durasteel buildings gleam under the harsh midday light and the colourful speeders flying around in all directions paint a chaotic picture of life. You close your eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool wind on your heated face. Then you breathe in. Underneath the smell of fuel that is ever-present in the busy traffic of the city, you can make out the clean, familiar scent of GAR-issued soap… with just a hint of bitter caf. His scent.
Fox hears your content sigh and turns his head slightly – but the sunvisor of his helmet makes it impossible to catch even a glimpse of your face. However, he can see ahead, and in the distance, the Jedi Temple already looms, tall and imposing. The end of the line. Another goodbye with no promise of tomorrow. No resolve, no clarity… no reassurances.
You see the Temple too. He can tell by the way you straighten, then let out a deep, defeated breath. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, like you're trying to get as physically close to him as possible. The hard plastoid must be digging into your skin, but you don’t seem to care. You just want to savour the fleeting moment for as long as you can.
He should be content. This already was more than he’d expected. He didn’t think he’d even get to talk to you, let alone have you so closely pressed against him. This is more than he could’ve hoped for.
But it’s not enough.
A few soft words policed by his brothers’ presence are not enough.
Your arms around him for half the duration of an already short speeder ride are simply not enough.
Fox needs more. He wants more.
And Maker help him – he hopes he’s right to think that you do too.
He veers sharply.
The sudden change of course startles you, and you look up as the speeder bike starts to descend. The Temple fades from view, swallowed by the skyline as the tall buildings rise around you. You’re getting closer and closer to the surface. You can’t pretend you’re not relieved.
“Are you kidnapping me, Commander?” you ask sweetly.
“Yes.”
You chuckle at his curt response, soft and amused, then rest your chin back on his shoulder. You have no idea where he’s taking you and, truthfully, you don’t really care.
Fox steers the speeder deeper into the planet. Sunlight fades, giving way to neon lights and flickering holograms as you enter the lower reaches of the Uscru District. But Fox doesn’t stop. You ride past glowing shopfronts and loud clubs, catching fragments of cheers and bursts of laughter. The nightlife of Coruscant is always awake this deep within the planet.
But he keeps diving lower. The light dims, the streets thin out, and the architecture grows more industrial. You’re somewhere in the mid-levels now – right on the border of what most would consider the lower levels. It’s not a place you’ve ever been before. The streets are rougher, more dilapidated – the kind you wouldn’t walk alone, even as a Jedi. But you’re not scared. You feel completely safe.
Because you’re with him.
The speeder glides to a stop on a narrow street in front of what looks like a warehouse. Fox dismounts and offers his hand to help you up. You accept, timidly curling your fingers around his. There’s no fireworks at the touch – just warmth and grounding steadiness. The kind that melt your insecurities away and encourages you to be at ease in his presence.
He doesn't let go once your feet are on the ground. Instead, he keeps your hand in his, tracing the back of your palm with his thumb. You take a breath in and step closer, looking up into the dark visor of his helmet. You wish he would take it off already.
Fox gently squeezes your hand, then let's go, his gloved fingers settling on the small of your back, applying tender pressure.
“This way.”
“You know, regular people go to a caf shop on their first date, not to dodgy industrial areas in the lower-levels,” you say half-teasingly.
Fox freezes for a second – is this a date?
He clears his throat. “We’re in the mid-levels. And uh… I’m not a regular person.”
You glance down at the floor and bite the inside of your cheek to temper your grin. He didn’t argue with the ‘first date’ part.
Fox guides you to the entrance of the warehouse, pulling his hand away from your back in order to pry open the control panel and start messing with the wires.
You chuckle at the sight. “Are we allowed to be here?”
“Abuse of power, remember?” he shoots back. You let out a soft laugh that makes his chest tingle.
The door half-opens with a mechanical hiss, just wide enough for a person to slide past. You glance at it, then at Fox, who gestures for you to step inside.
The lights begin to turn on one by one once you’re past the threshold and activate the motion sensor. You take a couple steps in–
Then you stop, eyes wide.
The room is large; you count at least two dozen support pillars lined in two parallel rows. But the size is not what captures your attention.
There’s grass on the ground. Actual grass – wild and unkept. The ceiling panels show images of blue skies and clouds – scattered with dark patches of faulty screens that keep glitching. There are large planters with purple-leaf bushes and even a couple of trees – you recognise the species as one native to Chandrila, although they’ve definitely seen better days. In the centre there’s a shallow dip in the floor – you can only assume it’s meant to hold a pond.
You’re speechless. You did not expect to encounter a corner of nature this deep in the heart of Coruscant.
“It was supposed to be a community garden,” Fox answers your unspoken question, coming to stand by your side. “There was an issue; something about permits, funding – whatever. Got tied up in red tape, so it’s been sitting like this ever since.”
“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.
“I thought you’d like it,” Fox quietly mutters.
The small comment wasn’t meant to reach your ears – but it does. You look up at him and find his helmet tilted your way. He’s clearly startled that you caught him. Fox clears his throat and abruptly looks away, then with a couple hurried strides he’s by the side of one of the duracrete pillars.
“There used to be bird songs too,” he says, pointing to the speakers mounted at the top of each pillar. “The sound system broke a while ago.”
“So you’ve been coming here for a while then?” you ask, slowly walking until you’re leaning against the pillar, facing him.
“Yeah,” Fox admits with a long sigh. “It’s a good place to clear your head.”
“And you come here a lot? As in…” you continue sweetly, “if I wanted to accidently run into you, would this be a good place you try?”
Fox turns to face you better, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you want to run into me cyar’ika, you could just use that frequency you asked Cody for and comm me.”
You straighten from the pillar, feeling your stomach drop and chest fill with embarrassed panic. “Y-You know about that?”
“I do.”
The garden suddenly feels too hot. You stare into the dark visor and swallow hard, even though your throat feels as dry as Tatooine.
“Oh…”
Your gaze drops, idly fixating on your boots. Silence settles around you, broken only by the low hum of the overhead lights and Fox’s breathing, filtered out through the voice modulator. But then – a hiss cuts through the air. You lift your eyes and watch as Fox finally pulls his helmet off.
He looks just as gorgeous as you remember – and just as tired. The bags under his eyes are still there – an ever-present part of him – but now there’s also a thin layer of stubble all across his jaw. His silver-streaked hair seems a bit longer as well. His duties must’ve kept him busier lately.
And, Maker, those whiskey-coloured eyes… your knees feel weak just at their sight. You could easily get lost in their amber hue. But the way he’s looking at you? It takes your breath away. There’s a longing in his gaze, a quiet hunger. And underneath all that, a softness you hope he holds just for you.
The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk and Fox cocks his head to the side. “You’re staring.”
“Maybe I missed your face,” you say in a kittenish voice.
“You've been surrounded by my face,” he snorts.
“No” – you shake your head – “not by yours.”
Fox studies your expression, his eyes lingering on your lips for a brief moment. Then he inches closer, voice dropping low as he utters the question that’s been tormenting him for weeks. “Then why didn’t you comm?”
The question is not accusatory. It’s not angry or disdainful. It’s raw, vulnerable – more vulnerable than Fox ever allows himself to be with anyone else. There’s a gentleness in his voice that stirs something in your chest.
“I…” you start, words eluding you at first, “I was worried you didn’t really want me to.”
Fox reaches his left hand and tenderly cradles your cheek. “I did, mesh’la.”
And then his lips are on yours.
It takes a second for your brain to catch up with what’s going on, and by then, your hands are already grasping his chestplate, fingers hooked at the base of his neck. Fox moves his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate pace, taking the time to reacquaint himself with your sweet taste. Your eyes flutter closed, melting at the way his thumb delicately strokes your cheek.
You shift a hand, lazily sliding it around his neck, until your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his skull. It’s soft – softer than you remembered – and just long enough now to start curling at the tips. Maker, you’ve missed him; and from the way he’s kissing you, it seems like he’s missed you too.
When you tentatively slip your tongue past the seam of his lips, something in Fox snaps.
There’s a faint thud as his helmet slips from his grasp, landing in the grass by his feet – but he pays it no mind. His right hand comes to tightly grip your hip, pulling you flush against him, as his body presses you firmly into the pillar. The hand that was cradling your cheek slams against the duracrete just above your head, caging you in.
The kiss deepens, turns hungrier. His tongue enters your mouth, sliding around yours in a desperate dance of needy intimacy. It’s so soft, and there's that taste of caf again, dark and earthy. Him. Oh how you missed the taste of him.
You match the frantic movements, your heart racing in your chest. It feels so good that you can’t stop the whimper that sounds from the back of your throat.
Fox breaks the kiss and pulls back, taking a moment to admire your heated cheeks and slightly swollen lips. A self-satisfied smile tugs at the corners of mouth.
“Am I moving too fast?” The question is half-genuine, half-laced with teasing.
“N-No,” you answer. You’re breathless, panting for air, but Maker, you do not want to stop.
“Good.” Fox leans back in. “Normally I’d be more patient,” – he moves his lips along your jaw, then start trailing down your neck – “but you made me wait, cyar’ika,” he murmurs into your skin. “I don’t like waiting.”
You gasp when you feel his teeth sink into the base of your neck. Fox chuckles, a low and dangerous sound that travels straight to your core, causing tingles of anticipation to shoot through your body.
Then his hands move, quickly travelling to your chest and sliding your overtunic aside as much as possible. His mouth returns to yours as his left hand cups your breast through the fabric of the undertunic. But his right hand trails lower and lower.
“We're technically in public,” you break the kiss to whisper against his lips, as if anyone could hear you in this desolate garden.
“We are.” His hand doesn’t stop, and it finally reaches the waistband of your trousers, fingers toying with the button. “If you want me to stop just say so.”
Your ragged breathing is the only sound you hear as you meet his gaze. His pupils are blown with lust and desire – and you know yours must be too. You want everything he has to give, and you want to give him everything you have in return.
“I... I don't. Don't stop, Fox. Never stop,” you pretty much whine.
“That's what I thought,” he leans in to rasp in your ear.
Fox unbuttons your trousers and slips his hand between your thighs. His fingers graze over the fabric of your underwear, moving back and forth in a slow, maddening pace. Your breath catches lightly every time they slide over your clit and without thinking, you start grinding into his hand, trying to build up that delicious pressure. His eyes are studying every shift in your facial expression, every crease of your brows and parting of your lips. But just as you think he’s about to slip his fingers underneath the thin fabric – he abruptly pulls his hand away.
“No! Why–” you start, your eyes snapping to meet his.
But you don’t finish your complaint.
Fox lifts his hand to his mouth, gaze locked on yours, and pulls off his glove with his teeth. The motion is fluid, controlled – intimate in a way that punches the air from your lungs. You swear your brain short-circuits. That was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.
You gasp when he swiftly returns it to your core, this time slipping it underneath all layers of fabric. His fingers glide through your folds, gathering your arousal before gently circling your clit. He repeats the motion, slowly dragging his fingers from your apex all the way to the edge of your entrance and back, but every time he reaches your sweet spot, his touch turns so featherlike, you can barely feel it.
Fox crashes his lips back into yours to keep you from objecting to his teasing. The kiss is deep and hungry, but you can feel the way he’s smirking against your lips. He’s very much enjoying the small vexed whimpers you’re making and the way you try to grind down on his hand. His codpiece feels uncomfortably tight, but he is determined to see you fall apart on his fingers before he does anything else.
“Fox…” you whine, breaking the kiss. “Please.”
“Please what, mesh’la?” he asks.
“Please stop teasing.”
“You want me to stop teasing?” he repeats between the kisses he’s planting along your jaw.
You respond with a nod, unable to form any words as you feel his fingers glide closer to your entrance. He pulls back to look at you, eyes darkening.
“I’ll stop teasing.”
And with that he pushes two fingers inside.
Your sharp gasp turns into a moan as Fox sets a rapid pace. His fingers pump in and out, curling just right along your walls. You can’t help the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, while your other hand is still holding on for dear life to the rim of his cuirass. His lips frantically return to yours, kissing you with a speed that matches the motion of his fingers. Then he trails his mouth lower, licking and nipping at the column of your neck. Your head falls back against the duracrete of the pillar, eyes fluttering closed.
“Don’t stop,” you beg.
The pressure is building, Fox can feel your muscles tense, clenching his fingers tightly. He keeps up the speed and brings his thumb to brush against your clit. Your eyes snap open, meeting his burning gaze. The determined look alone is almost enough to make you come. He’s not just trying to pleasure you. He wants to ruin you in the best possible way. To remind you exactly how good he can make you feel.
With just a few more thrusts of his fingers, Fox gets his wish. You squeeze your eyes shut as the pressure releases, and cry out his name. Pleasure spreads like electricity all over your body, surging through your veins in warm, rapid pulses. Fox doesn’t slow the relentless drag of his fingers until he feels your walls relax.
You’re panting heavily and your knees feel weak, like they might melt away at any second. But before you can even catch your breath, the world spins – and you find your front pressed against the cold duracrete pillar. Fox is right behind you, his body molding to yours, the hard edges of his plastoid armor biting into your back. Not that you mind – the pain quickly reignites the desire in your core.
His hands roam your sides, greedy and unrelenting, before one of them slides up to grope your breast. His mouth returns to your neck, the kisses now desperate. You can feel how worked up he is by the intensity of his movements. A hiss escapes your lips as he gets carried away and sucks on your neck a little too hard.
“Sorry,” he whispers, soothing the sting with the slow drag of his tongue.
“I don’t mind,” you breathe. “But I wouldn’t make them too visible if I were you. You’re the one in trouble if Cody sees them.”
Fox grunts. “Let’s not bring him up right now.”
Your giggle is cut short by Fox suddenly yanking your trousers and underwear down in one fluid motion, exposing your bare ass to the chilly air. There’s another small thud as something hits the ground, but before you can identify the sound, his hard length presses against your inner thigh. You arch back, encouraging him to slide through your folds and coat himself with your arousal.
“Kriff,” he mutters under his breath, hands tightly gripping your hips.
The tip of his cock catches at your entrance and your entire body tingles with anticipation. Then, without waiting any longer, he sinks in, accompanied by an incoherent Mando’a curse falling from his lips. You press your forehead to the cool duracrete as you adjust to the sting of the stretch, taking a couple of breaths. Fox pauses, buried to the hilt inside of you.
“Are you ready for me to move?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you nod. “Just start slow please.”
Fox leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your cheekbone. “Alright, mesh’la.”
He begins to move, rolling his hips slowly and listening to every small whimper that leaves your lips. The painful sting soon gives way to pleasure and you start pushing back to meet his thrusts, letting him know he can move faster. Fox groans and buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. He can’t tell whether it’s perfume or shampoo, but whatever it is, it’s intoxicating – and his new favourite scent. His grip on your hips turns vice-like.
You reach your arm back, curling it around his neck, and you tilt your head against his shoulder in a silent invitation. Fox immediately complies, crashing his lips to yours in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. His hips pick up speed, and his armored chest slams against your back with every unforgiving thrust, knocking the air out of your lungs. You almost laugh – he’s quite literally taking your breath away. You squirm, trying to make room for your ribs to expand, and he notices. Shifting slightly off you, he braces one forearm against the pillar and leans to the side. The new angle is exquisite for the both of you.
“You feel so good,” Fox mumbles in your ear. “So… so tight. So good.”
You moan his name as a response, your vision starting to blur around the edges. The tip of his cock is hitting that spot inside of you perfectly and you can already feel your second orgasm approaching. He is not too far behind. More incoherent mumbles fall from his lips as Fox gets lost in chasing his pleasure. At one point you think he says “ner mesh’la Jetti,” and your heart skips a beat.
You probably misheard. But the thought alone? The thought of being his? It’s enough to push you over the edge.
Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling firmly at the strands, and you arch back into him. He groans, but you can barely hear it over the loud moans that leave your lips as the climax ripples through you. Fox keeps the rhythm steady as you ride out your high, not changing a thing until he feels you melt into his grasp. Then his hips pick up speed, the thrusts turning harsh, unforgiving, frantic, as his low grunts fill the air around you. He slams into you a couple more times before going rigid, his cock the only thing still twitching inside your walls, filling you with his warm release.
His head falls on your shoulder and his ragged breath feels hot on your skin. The hand on your hip wraps around you, holding you tightly against him. You bring your own to his, interlacing your fingers together as you simply stay there and breathe. The moment stretches on in comfortable silence and you savour every second of it. His armor is still digging into your skin – there will definitely be some bruises tomorrow – but you can’t bring yourself to break the spell. Not when his other arm wraps around your chest. Not when he’s holding onto you like you’re a rare sunny day, shining after weeks of cold, unrelenting rain. Not when you can feel how much he needs the closeness – how much he needs you.
But your body betrays you – the chilly air of the abandoned garden makes you shiver. Fox notices immediately and slowly slides out of you, tucks himself back in with two quick motions, then helps pull your trousers up.
“Thanks,” you say as you turn to face him.
The sight that greets you is one you want to carve into your brain. There’s a soft smile frozen on his lips and his eyes are bright, pupils still a little blown. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his forehead and the hair you ruffled during the act looks wild and messy. But the most striking thing is that he looks so young, so relaxed. It won’t last long – you both know it – but just for a moment the two of you and this garden are the only real thigs in the galaxy.
You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing him like this.
Without thinking, you reach your hand to smooth down his hair. Fox closes his eyes, a small hum slipping from him on the next exhale. It’s such a small, natural gesture, yet it fills his chest with a warmth he’s almost afraid to name. He opens his eyes and finds you watching him, your gaze soft in a way that stirs something deep inside. But there’s something else behind your eyes – something he can’t decipher.
“You okay?” he asks gently.
“Better than okay,” you chuckle. “That was amazing. Ten out of ten.”
“Maker,” Fox groans. “That joke was terrible then, and it’s still terrible now.”
“Too bad,” you grin, a little smug. “I’ll make it after every time.”
His brain short-circuits for a second. Every time. That implies a next time. A next time he’ll get to have you in his arms, to hear you moan his name. ‘Every time’ implies a future he’s never allowed himself to dream of. But now? Now that it’s standing in front of him, wearing your smile, he wants it more than anything.
He recovers fast, and arches a brow as he steps closer.
“Every time? So we’re doing this again?” he teases.
Heat rushes to your cheeks. “W-Well, I do-I’d like to” you stammer. “If you want to of course, I can’t demand-I-I’m not assuming you want to because it-it is against the rules and–”
Fox silences you with a kiss. Searing, but slow. Passionate, but careful. His tongue moves around yours in measured, deliberate motions, fully demanding your attention. It tastes dangerously close to a promise.
When he pulls away, you feel weightless, and can’t stop the bright smile that spreads across your face.
He plants another small kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Come on. I need to actually deliver you to the Temple before they send out a search party.”
You roll your eyes, trying not to show your disappointment. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever – but that doesn’t mean leaving won’t sting.
Fox reattaches the codpiece and picks his helmet up, then frowns as he looks around.
“Where the hell is that glove?” he mutters.
You both look around the pillar, but it’s like it vanished into thin air. After a few minutes of sifting through the tall grass, Fox gives up with a resigned sigh – he’ll just get a new one – and the two of you leave the garden behind.
The ride back flies by in comfortable silence. You hold onto him tightly, smiling the entire time. He doesn’t go to the hangar; instead, Fox pull up on a street close to the Temple entrance, but just out of sight from any Jedi that might walk past.
“Thank you, Commander,” you purr, sliding off the speeder. “It was so kind of you to give me a ride.”
You can’t see his face under the helmet but you can just about imagine his unamused expression – and the slight shake of his head confirms it.
But before you can leave, he catches your wrist.
“Don’t make me kidnap you again,” he says, his voice a low growl.
“You say that like it wasn’t the best kidnapping I’ve ever had,” you laugh.
“I mean it, mesh’la,” Fox continues. “Actually comm me this time. I… I want to see you again.”
There’s a slight anxious edge to his voice, one that immediately sends butterflies to your stomach. He wants to see you again. Whatever this is blooming between the two of you, he feels it too, you’re certain now. You gaze into his visor, briefly wondering if he can feel the racing pulse in your wrist.
“I will. I promise.”
His hand lingers a little longer, thumb gently stroking your skin.
“Good.” He lets go.
Then he’s off, revving the engine of the speeder twice before disappearing into the Coruscant traffic.
You walk away, still feeling the warmth of his fingers on your skin. You’re already planning the comm you’ll send tomorrow.
A/n: if anyone is wondering what happened to the glove, a rat took it. Give me a shout and i'll write the rat's pov too
Taglist: @selene131 ; @lilooos-stuff (hope you don't mind the random tag, but it was your comment from a few weeks ago that motivated me to actually start writing, so thnx)
