I Recently Revisited This Story From @freesia-writes And Was Delighted. Again. Jesse Written As “JESSE!”
I recently revisited this story from @freesia-writes and was delighted. Again. Jesse written as “JESSE!” and then ‘jesse’ as more of him was revealed. Funny and heartfelt.
#jesse loves pookie #ptsd
Pets4Vets: Jesse (1/4)
Chapter 1 of 4 - Word Count: 3.2k - Jesse x Fem Reader Master List
“Thanks for dinner,” she said quietly, shifting her eyes from her plate to his and crossing one arm across herself to rub the outside of the other.
“Yeah baby,” Jesse purred with a cocky grin. “I mean, I got the dinner but you brought the dessert.”
“Huh?”
“You’re a treat,” he said with a wag of his eyebrows. “Want to take the party back to your place?”
“Oh, um. I’ve got to work early, so I think that’s all I’ve got time for now. But thanks again,” she offered, trying to mask the cringe on her face with a disingenuous smile.
“Alright, your loss… heheh…”
“Yeah…”
They made their way to the door of the restaurant, Jesse holding it open for her as she shuffled awkwardly past him. She hesitated on the sidewalk, turning back to face him with that same feeble grin. Another thanks for dinner. An offer to walk her home. Declined. A question about another date. After a long, uneasy pause, that was also declined.
Jesse kept up his best face, chest puffed and confidence set firmly in place, until she disappeared around the corner, then he slumped, turning to begin his own walk home. A glance at the chrono reminded him that he wasn’t allowed back in the apartment he shared with Kix for another hour and a half… The cramped flat they rented together didn’t allow for much privacy, and his roommate had been excited to take advantage of the alone time with his partner from Right to Love, a matchmaking service for clones wanting to live as freely as they were able since the war had ended and they were released from service.
The endless flashing lights of the Coruscant streets were oppressively bright as he plodded aimlessly, unsure of where to go. A deep sense of resentment was growing within, and he didn’t realize he was muttering under his breath until a few strange looks from passersby clued him in. Many of his brothers had found immediate success with Right to Love, now experiencing the joys of a relationship in ways they’d never thought possible when they’d been nothing more than property their entire lives. And yet here he was, having tried to connect with five different people now, each one entirely put off by the end of the first date. His assigned case manager at Right to Love had assured him that matches weren’t always perfect the first time around, and sometimes the process took a little longer to ensure the ideal fit.
Doubt was growing in the pit of his stomach as he walked. What was it about him that was getting in the way? He was throwing himself wholeheartedly into this pursuit, and yet each attempt seemed to be less encouraging than the last. The resentment began to coil in his chest, heating up into anger, and he leaned into it. Anger was familiar. Anger, he could deal with. It made him feel powerful and in control, pushing aside any tendrils of fear or sadness that lay at its core. A sign up his head caught his eye, and he turned abruptly to barge through the door.
Music thumped inside, the small crowd on the dance floor moving as one to the beat, and he jostled his way around the edge to find a seat at the bar. He waited for a while, watching the bartender help customer after customer, including those that had arrived after him. When the man began polishing some glasses, Jesse finally called out, eyebrows furrowed.
“Can I get some service here?”
The bartender slowly finished wiping his glass, sidling down to the end and resting his palms on the counter with no attempt to hide the disdain on his face.
“Did your giant face tattoo block you from seeing the sign on the door?” he drawled. “No clones. Go back to your own district.”
“You’re living in the past,” Jesse growled, the snake in his chest twisting and hissing. “Credits are credits. What does it matter who they come from?”
“Just get out,” exhorted a Zabrak on the stool beside him who’d had his back firmly turned to him from the start. “Before we make you.”
He’d had enough.
“Go ahead and try,” he snarled, smacking a fist on the counter and rising to his feet. The Zabrak was in his face immediately, flanked by a nat-born and a Weequay who looked far too excited to throw hands.
“Know your place,” the nat-born taunted, leaping forward to throw a swing, which Jesse dodged and countered with one of his own, sinking a fist into the man’s stomach and earning a satisfying grunt of pain. The brawl exploded, quickly changing the three-on-one situation into an entire mob set on teaching the clone a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. The ARC trooper held his own, ducking and swinging, using leverage to toss one body into another, but the blows were coming from every direction. A foot to the back of his knee knocked him off balance, right into someone else’s fist.
The next thing he knew, he was unceremoniously thrown onto the sidewalk among a litany of curses and insults, and he scrambled to his feet, body throbbing with numerous bruises from the punches and kicks that had landed as he’d tried to hold them all off. His nose was bleeding, and he wiped it on his sleeve before pinching it hard, stalking toward his building in a tornado of rage.
He sat outside on the stoop for the remaining hour, ruminating on the sheer injustice of it all. But eventually, the hot indignation quieted, and in the stillness, he fought to stuff down the disappointment that whispered judgment and failure in its place.
* * *
“Come on, give it a try.” Kix straightened his scrubs as Jesse slouched against his bedroom doorway. “It’ll be a different dynamic. Might be helpful.”
“I don’t need help,” Jesse scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest.
“I know,” Kix affirmed quickly, “But the food carts in the square are delicious. So bring your next date and just come along for that.” He smoothed a hand over his neatly-cut hair and tilted his head at his mirror, checking that the first few letters of his head tattoo were hidden as much as possible by his dark locks. The medical clinic he worked at had some fairly strict rules around personal appearance, and considering how difficult it was to find clone-friendly jobs, no matter how qualified they were, he wasn’t about to risk losing his placement over something as trivial as that.
“Fine,” Jesse huffed. “I’m doing this for the ronto wraps, you know.”
Kix grinned, clapping him on the back and squeezing his shoulder as he headed for the front door. “You’ve been doing too much upper-body, vod. Have a leg day.”
“Hah. Go clean some crusty old geezers, di’kut.”
“Oh please. I’m saving lives out there,” Kix threw over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Jesse sighed. That did seem like a much better purpose than his own job as a personal trainer at a local gym, where most of his clients were flaky hopefuls who wanted to get into shape without putting in the time and work that it required. It paid well enough, though, and gave him an outlet for a sense of purpose as well as a place to exercise. If he were honest, he’d hoped he’d meet someone there, figuring they’d be more aligned with his interests and lifestyle, but after months upon months of dismal prospects, he’d gone ahead and applied at Right to Love. He sighed, turning to rummage in the cooling chamber until it was time for work.
* * *
Days of work and leisure blended together, and Jesse found himself spending more time at the gym, adding cardio sessions on top of his bodybuilding regimen as a way to blow off steam. He finally got another match from Right to Love and agreed to go on the double date with Kix and his partner, laboring a disproportionate amount of time over what to wear. He didn’t want to admit it, but with each date he felt increasingly desperate. Desperate to prove that there wasn’t something wrong with him. Desperate to feel like he had access to the whole variety of options for a “normal” life. Desperate to enjoy the care, intimacy, and connection that some of his brothers had found.
He straightened the long-sleeved henley shirt and rolled up the sleeves a little. Ladies loved the forearms, right? Slipping a wallet into his back pocket, he checked his reflection one last time and ventured into the living room where Kix was waiting for him.
“Here goes nothing,” he grumbled.
“That’s the spirit,” Kix nodded sagely, a fond smirk on his face.
The square had a weekly event where all the food carts in the vicinity would gather to offer their delectable delicacies, and there really was something for everyone, making it a very popular attraction. Jesse swaggered beside his date, Kix and his partner bringing up the rear, and shared stories of valor and bravery as she nodded and made small sounds of agreement here and there. The four of them had shared some snacks from a variety of vendors and were now walking it off along the city streets.
Coming to a somewhat scenic overlook of a steep dropoff with many Coruscant levels stretching down below, the four of them sat on a couple of benches. Kix stretched his arm across his partner’s shoulders, and they nestled into his side with an affectionate gaze. Jesse shifted awkwardly beside his date, a beautiful redhead that made his mouth go dry when he tried to talk. Yet he’d pushed past it with bravado and confidence, he felt simultaneously certain and completely unsure of her interest. Kix was murmuring in his date’s ear, bringing a demure smile to their face, and Jesse turned to look at the redhead beside him.
“So… You mentioned some adventures in the jungle… Did I tell you about our campaign on Felucia?” he asked, launching into the story before she was able to respond. He wove an exhilarating tale of their encounter with both Separatist forces and the Commerce Guild, finishing with a flourish and grinning proudly.
“Sounds like the war was wild,” she offered.
“You’re karking right it was,” he laughed, attempting to slip his arm around her shoulder as well, but she stood up quickly.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I… I’m gonna go.”
Jesse watched her leave, speechless, then was flooded with embarrassment as he felt the eyes of Kix and his partner on his back. He slowly turned to face them, and the empathetic looks on their faces added insult to the injury.
“See you at home,” he muttered to his brother, nodding to Kix’s partner and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he trudged back to their apartment. Kix watched him for a long time, nodding at the murmured condolences from his partner, who was incredibly kind and gentle, both admiring and strong in their own right, and he was regularly blown away at the fact that he’d been able to find them. Their compassion only served to deepen his own hope that his brother could find whatever it was he was looking for.
* * *
The next morning, a much-needed day off of work for both of them, Jesse was sprawled on the couch with a lazy hand resting on the steaming mug of caf on the nearby side table. Kix was scrambling some eggs in the kitchen, casting the occasional glance over the counter at his brother’s dejected slump. He was torn; Jesse was notoriously stubborn, but Kix also knew him better than most anyone else, and if he kept continuing in the same pattern, he would likely keep getting the same result. He flipped the eggs one more time and turned off the burner, scattering some shredded cheese over the top of them and putting a lid over the pan to melt it all together.
“You… uh… seemed different last night,” he ventured, picking up his own caf, now mostly cold, and sitting in the armchair across from the downcast clone.
“Mmm,” was the only response.
“Does it always go that way?”
“Mmm.”
“What’s… What’s with the swagger stuff?” Kix asked, abandoning the subtlety. Jesse cast a hard look at him, but he caught the quickly-concealed flicker of hurt beneath the tattooed face.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Just doesn’t really seem like you. Did you answer the questionnaire honestly?”
“Yes!” Jesse said defensively, furrowing his brow.
“Well… then that might be why the dates aren’t going so well, if they’re expecting you to act… normal. You’re smart and pretty down-to-earth most of the time. Last night it felt more like you were trying to prove yourself somehow.”
His words stung, and Jesse balked at the feeling of being perceived so accurately. But a sense of resignation had settled in again, and he shrugged, attempting a nonchalant facade.
“I’m just gonna get a pet. That’ll have to lo–... to put up with me, right?”
“Sure,” Kix sighed. “I’ve heard good things about P4V.”
“Look, di’kut, I know I can’t even get a second date, let alone some bedroom action, but I don’t think I have the credits for a sex worker… At least not a good one.”
“Classy as always,” Kix rolled his eyes. “It’s not a brothel, it’s called Pets 4 Vets. They have a variety of service animals to help with the difficult aspects of adjusting to civilian life.”
“I want a good-sized Massiff, not some fluffy little Loth-rat to lick me when I have ‘big feelings’,” Jesse snorted.
“Kriff, you are thick sometimes.”
“Just these thighs.”
“Right. Just try it.”
“We’ll see.”
* * *
You stroked a hand down the bogling's back, running fingers along the soft fur of its fluffy tail. It leaned into your touch with a contented noise, and you closed the cage behind it, watching it begin delicately eating its food before moving to the next kennel. You’d been working at Pets 4 Vets for a while now, and you felt thoroughly at home amid a great group of coworkers and an even better assortment of animals from every corner of the galaxy. They were all either in the process or finished with their training to be emotional support animals for the veterans who had served the Republic so well. You’d been a little unsure around the clones at first, not having spent any time with them before this, but they’d grown on you quite a bit and you’d been amazed at the complexity and individuality of each one. You’d also developed a knack for pairing them with animals, although it still took a few tries at times.
“Good morning, tookas,” you said warmly as you slid the food bowl into the next crate, watching the two loth-cats eye it lazily from where they were curled around each other in the corner. They were a bonded pair, and last summer they had surprised the entire staff with a full litter of the most adorable babies you’d ever seen, who had since grown and been placed into loving homes. None of you had been too eager to see the parents leave, however, and it just so happened that none of the troopers so far had been the ideal match for them. The two of them roamed the clinic during the day, curling up near computer terminals or gracing guests in the lobby with their tails high in the air. At night, all the animals were tucked into their cozy kennels until morning, when they’d be fed and let out into their various programs for the day. Some had hours of training, others enjoyed free time inside or out, and some simply spent as much time as possible shadowing the clinic staff.
“I wish I got breakfast in bed,” you murmured as you closed their door, watching the loth-cats yawn and nuzzle one another. You felt a deep sense of longing in your chest, and moved to the next cage to try to keep your mind from continuing on its current trajectory. But it was a lost cause. “Wish I had someone to wake up next to as well,” you continued. The dating scene hadn’t been kind to you, and if you were honest, you’d pretty much given up. Your friends urged you to keep the dream alive, to go on double dates with them and to meet the various eligible bachelors they knew, but nothing felt like a good fit. You assumed the problem was with you. And that was alright. You were happy enough on your own…you said. The clinic staff was a tightly-knit group, for the most part, and you authentically loved the animals. You felt fulfilled by the unconditional love you shared with each one, and you were so proud at the growth you got to witness as they went through training.
The horde was fed, each one was released to its daily duty, and you began to clean all of the kennels, wondering if you should take your friend up on her offer to check out 79s. It felt completely out of your comfort zone, however. Not because of the clones, but you just generally weren’t a fan of loud, raucous environments, and you weren’t much of a drinker… So it didn’t seem like a very attractive prospect. As much as you were mocked for it, you weren’t really keen on one night stands, nor were you good at “keeping it casual”. You wanted a relationship with depth and longevity. Sometimes you wondered if the taunts about you were correct, that you had in fact watched too many cheesy holofilms and now had an unrealistic view of romance.
Whatever.
A few hours of cleaning were followed by an hour or so at your computer, reviewing and categorizing the new applications. You didn’t realize you’d been completely hunched the entire time, your back rounded as you tapped away at the keys, and would have remained blissfully unaware if the receptionist hadn’t commented on it as soon as she popped in.
“Geez, you look like a shrimp,” she laughed, dropping a data card on your desk.
“You’re a bit of a cod yourself,” you teased, and she giggled, swatting your arm. “What’s this?”
“A new app. I was gonna bring him back here in person but he said he had lots of ‘big important stuff’ to do.” She rolled her eyes. “Quite the cocky one. He didn’t want to go through the interview process because he ‘knew what he wanted and it was a big dog’.” A chuckle followed the words as they both nodded. They were familiar with the type.
“Did you tell him he has to do an interview if he wants anything at all?”
“Yup. Said you’d contact him.”
“Lucky me.”
“Thought you might like a challenge. It’s been quiet for you lately,” she grinned.
“Considerate as always,” you smiled right back.
“Have some fun with him. He could use someone taking him down a peg or two. Although I thought I could see the remnant of a black eye, so maybe someone already tried. He’s a big boy, too.” A suggestive wink.
“Oh boy. Can’t wait.”
Next Chapter
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More Posts from Heidnspeak and Others
Family traits
For Tech
Wrecker has many layers.
Wrecker is a structural engineer.
He can look at a building floor plan or stand in the lobby and say something like, “Yeah this used cross-joists, you can tell by the way the elevator supports meet the load bearing walls.”
He gets into arguments with Tech on missions because Tech memorizes the blueprints but Wrecker knows those are more like a guideline. “Which blueprints, Tech? The design schematics or the as-builts because we both know they’re not the same. And this wall,” He smashes through it, “is not load bearing because the foundation was made with heavy reinforced permacrete instead of standard.”
He may also have done chemical engineering to help build and disarm improvised explosive devices.
This is all so he can look at a separatist factory, spaceship or tank and say, “No the engineering section will be over here because if they put it over there they’d have to run the waste heat from the reactor through the life support compartments and that would make the methane scrubbers impossible to balance.”
And he’ll ask Tech what the tensile strength of a three centimeter braided carbon nanotube cable is so he can calculate how much explosive to use on the cable’s anchor point but when they get there he’ll say, “I won’t need as much because I can already see stress cracks around the bolts.”
Echo’s first hugs with his Bad Batch bros. I can’t even….!
#sweet and touching and awkward and smirky #echo my love
A Quick Cuddle - Part 1 - Wrecker
Hi all! Since I really needed some comfort (and it seems like many others need it right now too) this will be my first post for Echo-vember. I've decided to post one Echo-focused fic each week of November revolving around the first time Echo hugs each of the batch. If you want to be tagged when I post these fics let me know <3
Thank you @renton6echo for coming up with the concept of Echo-vember. I'm excited for it <3
Ao3 Link
Part 2 - Tech - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link
Part 3 - Hunter - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link
Part 4 - Crosshair - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link
Summary: The first time Echo hugs Wrecker
Word Count: 1,021
Their mission had gone off without a hitch. It was the first of many, Echo hoped, as they boarded the Marauder to embark on whatever was next for the group. He could barely keep up with how fast everything was moving. One mission after another, no planet longer than a few days, so much to learn he was racing just not to fall behind. Rest days were far and few between. He slept even less with Clones Force 99 than he did when he was a 501st ARC. Even when he did it was always surrounded by people just as he liked it, constantly listening to the sounds of snores and chatter and even breathing. That was okay with Echo. He didn’t have too much time to think in between rushing into battle and his new squad was about as chaotic as he expected. They were nearly yelling over each other in the excited rush that followed their mission. It was swift, simple, but they’d run into the need for an explosion and that got all of their blood pumping. Who would’ve thought, the squad of excitable commandos liked when things went boom. He was busy smiling at them, ignoring the need to make a plan, set a path, move on, while they pushed each other around and chattered.
“That was awesome!” Wrecker whooped as he whipped his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor. A wide smile stretched across his face, skin flushed with excitement. He shoved Echo’s shoulder. “Who knew you could do something like that?!” Right. Echo tried to bite back the grin but he was fighting a losing battle. He’d been on top of a walker, helping plant explosives while the rest of them distracted enemies for him and the big guy. Apparently using his grappling hook to swing off the side of it, wrapping its legs together, and tucking into a roll as he dismounted wasn’t just a common method everyone used. When he’d knocked the walker over he yelled at Wrecker to run, close enough that their backs heated while the explosion went off behind them. Echo wasn’t sure why it was particularly exciting but it may have been the domino effect of explosions that detonated throughout the battlefield that made them all so giddy.
Something about fire. It just really made all of them bouncier.
Echo shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “Had to learn something from all of that ARC training.” It was the first time he’d truly felt confident with the batch. They’d only known each other for a few weeks, spent even less time in the field, and he’d fumbled a few plays - understandable - but he’d let it hurt his ego a bit too much. All those racing thoughts and unease had wriggled its way into his mind. A win was nice. It reminded him who he was. A time when they thought he fit in was even better. The batch was so tight he started to think infiltrating their ranks was impossible.
Maybe he just hadn’t given them enough time.
Wrecker laughed - bright and jovial - nudging Echo again, this time hard enough that he bumped into Hunter who steadied him with a grin. “You can say that again! We make a great team.” In a move that almost knocked all the air out of his lungs Wrecker swept his arms around Echo’s waist, lifting him up into the air. The shock came first along with a surprised noise from the back of his throat - not a squeak, thank you very much - as the big guy hugged him. His feet dangled in the air while Wrecker swayed him back and forth.
This was the first time any of them had hugged him. For a brief moment it was like being doused in freezing cold water but the warmth radiating off of Wrecker made every bone in his body relax. Hugs certainly hadn’t been at the top of his list of priorities - he hadn’t really thought about it - but he found himself smiling regardless. Wrecker was a tactile guy, mostly shoving and throwing his arm around the others, but hugs weren’t out of the question. Echo just hadn’t realized that Wrecker would ever want to hug him with his metal and attitude and newness to the squad so he’d not yet attempted to get physically closer to any of them yet. At least Wrecker was the easiest to befriend, so quick to invite Echo to join him in their down time and offer him space. It felt nice to be treated like a part of things. He couldn’t really hug him back, not with his arms pinned to the side as they were, but he did chuckle, awkwardly patting Wrecker’s side.
“Any time, big guy. Maybe next time we can make it a few more yards away from the explosion before it goes off.” The light scold was taken lightheartedly with a laugh. Wrecker squeezed him tight one last time then put him down, holding onto his shoulder to keep him steady while he regained his footing. The smile stuck to his face so bad he almost had to hide it behind his hand. Something as simple as a hug and he was taken down, reduced to silence, watching dutifully as the rest of them kept getting under each other's skin. Lucky was a word he would use, he supposed. It may seem simple but the worry that his new squad wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to be tactile with him was slowly ebbing away, flickering to the back of his mind even for the moment. His hand itched to do the same things the rest of them seemed so comfortable with - shoving, ruffling hair, hugs - but he wasn’t quite there yet. Wasn’t ready to be the initiator for tactile forms of affection. Wrecker had opened the door, allowed in some form of familiarity he hadn’t quite realized he missed so much. There was still learning, sure, but hope bloomed in his chest at the thought that this could be more than a squad, more than a team, but something closer to his heart altogether.
Because Echo has a well deserved reputation. #chaos strategist
The imperials don’t scare their kids by telling them stories about the boogeyman, they scare them by telling stories about Echo.
Ohmigosh. THE SEQUEL❣️ SUGARPOP! My heart exploded when I saw this. 💥 💖 It is kriffing perfect and everything I hoped it would be! Thank you…. Thank you! @vodika-vibes is a legend!!
# sometimes a sneaky suggestion works #PopBly is my new fave #they deserve the happiness #Bly is a true hero #Cody is a putz and never deserved her # the Sugarpop Saga
She Could Have Been Mine
A companion piece to Sugarpop
Summary: Cody realizes what he lost.
Pairing: Background Commander Bly x F!Reader, Commander Cody
Word Count: 1086
Warnings: None? Minor angst
A/N: So, I finally wrote the sequel/companion piece to Sugarpop that so so many of you asked for. I hope you all like it.
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Loving her is easy.
She’s easy to love. Kind and gentle, warm and welcoming in a way you don’t see often outside the Jedi.
For Cody, loving her is as natural as breathing.
And yet, he’s known from the start that she was too good for him. Someone like her deserves only the best. And Cody is far from the best.
So he does what he knows has to be done. He keeps his distance, treating her like a dear friend, almost a sister, but nothing more. He meets other women and dates them, and she always greets them with a warm smile and a baked treat.
And he ignores the way that she looks at him. The way she smiles at him.
He ignores how her smile falters when he introduces another woman to the friend group. And he pretends he can’t see her heart breaking in her eyes every time he chooses someone else.
It’s for the best.
She deserves better than him.
When she gets kidnapped, her front door kicked in and her apartment trashed, Cody’s heart drops. He’s sure that they’re going to find her body in a ditch somewhere on Coruscant.
He gives up on her.
He can’t conceive of the possibility that she survives something like that. It’s not like she’s a soldier or anything like that. She’s just a baker. And, as much as he loves her, he can’t cling to the faint hope that she might still live. He has a war to win.
Bly…doesn’t agree.
“You have no proof that she’s dead!” Bly snaps, as he’s held back by Wolffe and Fox. Cody’s grateful for it, for all that Bly seems like an easygoing guy, he’s not sure he’d win in a fistfight against him. “You’re giving up on her even though nothing is indicating she’s dead?! What kind of friend are you?”
“I’m a realist, Bly. She’s just a baker—”
Bly rips himself free from his brothers and manages to restrain his anger with great difficulty, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so disgusted with one of my own brothers before. I refuse to give up. I’m going to find her.”
Six months later, Cody is sure that Bly must have given up. Everyone else has.
And yet, Bly sends a simple message in the group chat, “I found her. She’s alive. Will return to Coruscant when deployment ends.”
For Cody, the message is like a breath of fresh air. He never, once, dared to hope that she might still be alive.
And, for the first time, Cody starts to think that maybe he’s been going about this all wrong. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for him to be honest with himself.
The first time Cody sees her after her long imprisonment, he almost doesn’t recognize her. Her hair is cropped shorter than he had ever seen before, and she looks like she’s lost weight…but when she sees him she offers the same warm smile that she always gave him.
The same smile that makes his heart skip a beat. The same smile that he fell in love with all those months ago.
“I’m glad you’re alright,” Cody offers as she walks over to him.
“Thank you. General Secura put me in touch with a mind healer at the temple, to help me process everything that happened to me. But…” She trails off, and looks away from him, her smile softening slightly, “I think I’m going to be alright.”
“That’s good. I’m glad the Jedi are willing to help you.”
“Well, General Secura said something about the kidnapping being half their fault? I’m not sure what she means, but she feels really guilty about it.”
Well, that’s news to him. But also, he doesn’t want to talk about the Jedi right now. Cody opens his mouth to say something, a rough plan on how he’d ask her on a date starting to form in the back of his mind.
Only he never gets the chance to speak.
“Sugarpop!” Her head turns to the side and a blinding smile crosses her face as she sees Bly standing there, “I was wondering where you slipped off to.”
Cody watches, stunned, as she turns away from him and skips over to Bly, not slowing as she crashes into him and wraps her arms around his neck. And he watches as Bly spins her around to work off some of that momentum, and then leans in to press his forehead against hers.
Oh.
Her hands come up and press against his cheeks, and a giggle he’s never heard before slips from her lips as Bly whispers something to her.
Oh.
A wry, slightly wistful, smile crosses his lips.
He missed his chance.
His gaze meets Bly’s for a moment, and then Cody looks away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t deserve to see this.
He hears Bly murmur something to her, and he glances at them in time to see her nod and slide back to the ground. “Are we still going to go to the—?” She trails off, her voice tinged in hope.
Bly grins at her and kisses her forehead, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He takes her hands for a moment, “Wait outside for me? I’ll be just a few minutes.”
“Alright.” She turns and smiles at Cody, “I’ll see you later, Cody!”
“Yeah. Later.” Cody watches her leave the building and then turns his attention to his brother.
“You alright, Codes?” Bly asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’m not an idiot and I know you love her?”
“I’m fine, Bly. I’m not entitled to her.”
Bly sighs, “Did you think she was going to wait forever?”
“No. Of course not.” He pauses and then rubs the back of his neck, “Is she happy?”
“I like to think so.”
“Then that’s good enough for me. Just…keep making her happy, and I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Stop worrying about me, dumbass. Go to your girl.”
“Fine, fine.” Bly turns to leave the building as well, “Oh, but I’m telling Wolffe and Fox that you’re feeling sad.”
Cody huffs out a laugh, “Thanks.” Then Bly and gone and Cody takes a moment to push his hand through his hair.
She could have been his if he hadn’t been such a moron. But then, he’s not sure he’d be able to make her as happy as Bly does.
He tilts his head back, and a bitter laugh slips from him, “Force, I’m such a kriffing idiot.”
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All that Echo is I love.
There is this deleted Scene from the Bad Batch arc of Clone Wars in which after Crosshair and Rex fight Anakin confronts Rex telling him that there is a possibility that Echo has been turned. To which Rex answers: "I've known Echo since Domino Squad, He is one of the bravest troopers I've ever worked with. Sure, he can test your nerves repeating every order like you are deaf, but I can tell you this: He rather die than turn against the republic." (Link)
And I wish they would have kept that.
I wish we could have gotten more of Echo's unique quirk. You know? the one that gave him his name: His tendency to repeat everything and make sure everyone is aware of what has to be done.
It's such a unique, an honestly funny quirk that we didn't really got to see outside of the Domino Squad episode and I don't see it represented on the fandom often.
I wish we could have gotten more of that little quirk that made Echo Unique in the Bad Batch. I wish we could have gotten more of Echo in the bad batch in general.
“Please, may I have some more?”
@vodika-vibes absolutely positively nailed this one. It’s perfect. 💖
#i was scriggling - screaming and giggling # I might have to read this 10 more times today
Sugarpop
Summary: Loving Cody is easy. It is too easy, for all that he doesn’t and will never feel the same way. But, maybe you can turn your attention to someone who’s been waiting for you to see him.
Pairing: One-sided Cody x F!Reader, Pre Bly x Reader
Word Count: 1500
Warnings: Reader gets kidnapped and starved.
A/N: It was just too cold to write this morning, lol. But I've warmed up since then and I love Bly, so here it is.
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From the day you met him, you’ve loved Cody.
You love his smile, his quiet jokes, and how you feel safe when you’re with him. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he’s genuinely happy, and the way his nose scrunches when he’s disgusted.
And he’ll never feel the same way.
Oh, you don’t doubt that he’s fond of you. He’s always happy to see you, and he enjoys how you’re happy to cook for him and his brothers, though he teases you about using them as taste testers, rather than cooking for them because you want to do something nice.
He’s protective of you, and your time, and you know he’ll never allow anyone to take advantage of you, or harm you, so long as he’s around.
But he doesn’t love you.
And it’s fine.
Really.
He doesn’t have to love you. You aren’t entitled to his love just because you loved him first. You’re happy having his affection and his friendship. You are.
Sure, some nights you lay in bed and fantasize about what-if.
What if he did love you? What if he looked at you like you look at him? What if, when you’re with him, his stomach flips and his heart clenches? What if he lays in bed and thinks about you?
Most nights, however, those thoughts turn into tears.
But, no one knows about it. The only one who knows your silent grief is your comforter, and it doesn’t tell stories.
And so, you go on day by day. Greeting Cody with bright smiles and light jokes, and when he shows up with a girlfriend, you greet her politely and make sure that she doesn’t have any food allergies, and you treat her like a friend.
Sure, maybe she doesn’t last longer than a month or, in one situation, an evening, but you’re still kind and polite.
It’s ironic, you’ve actually managed to make some friends with his exes.
And you know Cody appreciates it. He told you, once, that he was glad that you were so welcoming to the people around you, and then he continued by telling you that you’re too nice for your own good.
You can’t help how you are as a person, and so you wave off his concerns when he brings it up. It doesn’t matter, in the long run, because he has all of his brothers looking out for you.
So, you suppose, if you want to be accurate, you have to admit that he does love you. But he loves you like a friend loves a friend, not like how a man loves a woman.
At least he’s still in your life, even if it’s not how you want. You just have to take what you can get.
But, all the same, when you’re kidnapped several months later due to your friendship with several Marshal Commanders, you know that no one will come for you.
All you can do is keep your mouth shut and pretend that you don’t know what your kidnapper is asking. You can’t do much, but you can protect them at least a little.
You’re not sure how long it’s been. There’s no way to tell what time of day it is here in the cell that has been your room since you were snatched from your apartment.
It must have been at least a month. At this point someone must have noticed that you went missing, right?
It’s not like your kidnapper was subtle about snatching you, seeing as they kicked open the door and destroyed your apartment in the process of kidnapping you.
Of course, who would they send to save you? The Guard? The Police?
No one?
The idea of dying in a tiny cell so far from home, so far from the people you love most, makes you want to cry. But you stop yourself before you can start. You only get a single cup of water a day.
You can’t afford to waste it.
Just as you wrap your thin blanket around you, and are considering moving to the other side of the thin cot that has been your bed for who even knows how long, you think you hear the sound of blaster fire.
Your gaze flickers towards the door of your cell as the sound gets louder and louder.
And then, you hear a voice. Familiar in the way that all clone voices are familiar.
“Here! I found it!” You hear some scuffling from outside the door, and then what you assume is a curse in Mando’a. Then, finally, the door slides open and stays open.
The man on the other side of the door is wearing white armor with yellow markings. Familiar yellow markings.
“...Bly?”
“You’re a hard lady to find, Sugarpop.” You scrunch up your nose at the nickname. Yeah. It’s Bly. He’s the only person in the galaxy who calls you Sugarpop.
“It’s not like I did it intentionally.”
“I know.” He steps into the cell and with surprisingly gentle hands, he coaxes you to your feet, “How are you? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“...I’m hungry. And cold.”
“I bet you are. No shoes?”
“They took them so I couldn’t run away.”
“Fuckers. We should have killed them slower.”
He really shouldn’t sound so cheerful when saying that. But it doesn’t actually bother you.
“Bly?”
“Yeah, Sugarpop?”
“Can I go home now?”
He stills and then a slightly strangled laugh fall from him, “Well, you see…”
“Bly?”
“We’re not on Coruscant.” He says hurriedly, “We’re actually in the outer rim. You’ve been a guest of the Hutt Cartel for the better part of 6 months.”
You stare at him, “Six…?”
“Yeah, Sugarpop. Six.”
“...my job…my apartment?”
“Ah, well…the Jedi did what they could, but both your boss and your landlord decided that you were dead three months in and you lost both.”
“Oh.”
“But, it’ll work out!” Bly sets his hands on your shoulders, and you can almost see his brow furrow through his visor, “You’ve lost weight. A lot of weight.”
“Well…well…I probably needed to anyway…” You offer, feeling slightly numb.
“Bullshit, you were perfect.”
You blink at him again, “Thank you?”
“We’ll get you healthy again, and you can help out in the kitchen.” Bly offers cheerfully as he guides you out of the cell and lifts you over a pile of broken droids, “It’ll be great.”
“There are a lot of droids here,” You mumble, more to yourself, as you nudge something away with your foot.
“Yeah, looks like the Hutts are working with the Seppies.” Bly glances at you, “You know what, Sugarpop? I think I’m just going to carry you.”
“You don’t have to—”
He scoffs as he scoops you into his arms, “Have to? Please. I’d pay for the honor.”
You stare at him, even as you slide your arms around his neck so you feel more secure, “Bly?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you flirting with me? While rescuing me?”
He glances at you, “Yeah. I am.” Bly glances away, “Cody’s a blind idiot if he can’t see how you look at him.”
Your face burns, “I wasn’t trying to be transparent…”
“You weren’t Sugarpop. I just watch you a lot.” Lightly, he bumps his helmet against your forehead, “Just waiting for the day you look at me like that.”
Bly steps over a pile of something that was probably a person at one point, and you drop your head to his shoulder. As he walks, you go back through all of the conversations you remember having with Bly, and slowly you come to a realization.
“Bly, have you been flirting with me since we met?”
He laughs, “You’re just now noticing? Oh, Sugarpop, we need to give you lessons on being more observant.”
You huff and nudge him gently, “Don’t be mean. Humans are notoriously bad at detecting flirting.”
“Yeah, well…” He pauses for a moment to kick a door open, “Cody’s an idiot and I’m right here if you want to turn those pretty eyes on me.”
“Just like that?”
“Hey, I’m a patient guy. And it’s a long flight back to Coruscant.” He carefully sets you back on your feet and he lifts his helmet to rest on top of his head, “I think you’ll find that I’m a pretty charming guy.”
It’s at that very moment that you notice that his grin is slightly lopsided and that his eyes are a few shades lighter than Cody’s. And it almost feels like a betrayal when your stomach flips nervously.
“Is that your opinion?” You ask as you ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
His grin widens, “Nope, lots of people have that opinion.” Something in his gaze softens, and his fingers brush your cheek, “I’m glad you’re not hurt, Sugarpop.”
A tiny smile lifts your lips, “Thank you for coming to get me, Bly.”
There’s a serious glimmer in his gaze as he takes your hand and brushes his thumb across your knuckles, “Always.”
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Another chapter of The Only Exception by @starqueensthings I love this story so much! Please check it out. ❤️
PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3
Summary: June joins Howzer on a mission for caffeine. She learns a little about his role, his men, his outlook— and he, unknowingly, helps her navigate her struggle as a teacher. For a fleeting moment, June forgets to uphold that self indoctrinated distaste… that long-upheld aversion. For a moment, his companionship feels like nothing she’s ever felt before… nothing that she’d ever permitted herself to entertain… enjoy. But a moment is just a moment. Enjoy the roller coaster of this chapter— please remember certain aspects of a character (snippets of dialogue, facial expressions, etc) are all specifically placed so the audience can witness growth. We all about growth up in this house!
Rating/WC: all chapters are rated 16+ unless stated otherwise | 4475 words.
PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.
The jubilant breeze tumbling throughout the confines of the courtyard perched just opposite those glass doors instantly brandished her hair from her shoulders, beaming rays pouring mercilessly from overhead instantly capitalizing on the opportunity to remind her enraged skin of its power, and she near-winced upon feeling her neck prickle neath its unwelcome intensity.
“You okay?” Howzer asked as they trod down the half dozen stairs toward the locked gate, seemingly noting the sudden cringe atop her features.
“Yeah, fine,” June answered casually. “Spent too much time by the pool with my friend the other day and I’m still paying for it.”
“I saw that,” he chuckled, offering a sympathetic little grimace. “I’d offer some advice but I honestly can’t say I’ve ever had too bad of a sunburn.”
“Yeah, well… Quit braggin’,” June demanded with a smile. “I say this to my best friend all the time: not all of us are gloriously melanous.”
A tingle unrelated to that overhead radiance rolled down her back as his head tipped backward amidst a genuine laugh, and attempting to veil the flush rising rapidly back to her cheeks, she quickly reached to fiddle with the cuff of her sleeve… only to remember she was not wearing long sleeves, instead awkwardly shoving a dawdling finger neath the strap of her watch and giving it an pointless twist around her wrist.
As it turned out, the Combat Base’s close proximity to their chosen cafe perfectly elucidated why Hutchie’s was an establishment of which she’d never heard. Though for how distant it was from the central, senatorial sector of which June was largely familiar, only mere steps atop the pathway leading toward the jovial tinkle of its distant doorbell exposed how just how favoured of a spot it was for the denizens.
Yet even more astonishing than the steady flow of travel cup-laden patrons, stolling past with their steaming flimsi containers of delightful aromatic caf, was truly how simple it was to converse with the man next to her. Despite the butterflies in her stomach continuing their silent attempts at internal homicide, chatting with Howzer felt as intuitive as simply placing one foot in front of the other atop that bustling pathway.
Though their first encounter had far superseded the second in terms of duration, the plaguing ailment and the gentle coaxing he’d required before consenting to treatment had, unfortunately, dominated most of their conversation. Their only encounter since had been tragically too-short to engage in anything more than the hopelessly giddy “hi, I have to run but I really hope I’ll see you soon!” sentiments before the pair parted ways with dopey smiles atop their lips.
And in the void of pain or urgency, it was difficult not to marvel at just how casually that Captain carried himself. Imbued an insouciant energy of which June was sure she’d never be able to embody as effortlessly as Howzer did, breezy probes at conversation spilled from his lips as if he were intrinsically aware of all the topics she could chitter about for hours (though the way that mildly crooked smile wrapped its way around each word had her increasingly confident she would have been perfectly content to just listen to the music of that accented tone). Meanwhile, those large, boot-clad feet moved unhurried toward their destination as if the pathway itself had wordlessly offered to glide below at whatever speed he’d prefer; thankfully he’d defaulted to a cadence more comfortable for her much shorter legs.
As they wove through the ambling crowd, Howzer gushed about his Company; the 742nd was, admittedly, an anomaly of sorts. Not only did their authority ladder end with a Clone Commander and not the Jedi General that typically apexed large sectors of soldiers, but a period of extensive training in its earliest days of formation had seen those boys in teal thrust into an unusual hybrid role. Though classified as a “reconnaissance collection company subfractured from the 91st”, the 742nd was often deployed, instead, as an “assault and secure force”, meaning they were just as frequently tasked with infiltrating an enemy base and securing its perimeter until such a time that reinforcements could arrive and claim the location as their own. Yet, he spoke of his career with the same admirable informality as he would speak of the weather, reminiscing of battles as if recalling the events of a party he’d recently attended, and though she was sure it had rendered her expression to something near a slack-jawed grouper fish, that unforeseen disposition had captured June’s attention and simply refused to free it.
His perspective of war seemed …well, different to anything she’d overheard from soldiers amidst her duties at work. Often those armoured troopers spoke of their duty with an unignorable severity; of the responsibility they carried to both loyally serve and immutably protect the Republic to which they served; of their allegiance to their CO’s, their brethren, and the legion they’d been assigned; of the demand for stoic, unvarying courage in the face of enemies they’d never seen before. Howzer spoke of governing his men as if they were nothing but a bizarrely oversized and appropriately dysfunctional family— ‘vod, he kept calling them before quickly explaining this was a common Mando’a word for brother. He spoke of their battle experiences as if those teal painted men had collectively experienced several disjointed parts of a larger, harrowing adventure; those that were sadly killed on the way were celebrated to a higher degree than those that survived, as the lost had simply moved on to a more exhilarating life of which none of them knew just yet. He spoke of the unremitting desire and obligation to keep his men grounded— to ensure they felt nothing but relative ease and confidence as they marched into the relative unknown…
“Just in here.”
June wrenched her gaze from that enamoring square jaw as he slowed his pace and veered slightly toward a glass door on the right, instead redirecting her eyes upward toward the sign overhead. Hung from the soffit by two oversized copper chains, that deep emerald placard and the loopy gold cursive laying bare the name of that little cafe was immediately familiar, June’s mind quickly extracting the image of the tiny green card she'd opened and cherished some days previous.
“Oh, thank you,” she muttered upon realizing Howzer had pulled the door ajar and was waiting for her to enter ahead of him.
But hardly a step through the door and into that foreign space had thrust an inherently wholesome fragrance into her nose; unseen steaming loaves of delicious crusty sourdough bread, carafes of fresh caf gurgling just out of sight, crystallized and caramelized sugars mixed with an enticing blend of aromatic spices… vanilla, cardamom, cinnamon, clove… and something earthy and deeply familiar.
Though her olfactory system seemed instantly content enough to simply stand atop that threshold and breathe in those potent whiffs of sheer delight, the opportunity was usurped by just how visually overwhelming the interior of that tiny shop was.
“Wow,” June whispered, gaze dancing fervently from corner to corner, item to item, person to person, whilst her feet took her thoughtlessly in Howzer’s wake toward the treat laden display cases on the left.
Like her companion, Hutchie’s was nothing short of …different. Utterly void of that sterile rigidity of which Coruscant remained notorious, three steps into that creaky, rustic cafe had June feeling as if she’d been unknowingly transported to a little bistro on a distant planet. High ceilings and limewashed walls worked in tandem to ensure that relatively cramped square footage was suffused with an indescribable, natural comfort. Taking up the majority of the cafe’s interior real estate was a sitting area along the right side; dozens of time-worn wooden chairs housing patrons of all shapes, colours, and sizes, an equi-diverse array of baked treats perched atop tables anchoring those esoteric conversations.
“Ouuu, Alocasia Zebrina!” June suddenly uttered aloud, excitement surging through her veins as her eyes affixed themselves upon a very familiar-looking striped plant perched in the center of those scrubbed pine tops.
“Say again?” Howzer asked, the din of chatter echoing around those four corners forcing him to lower his ear to only inches from her lips.
“Um, Alocasia Zebrina,” she repeated somewhat meekly, the subtle addition of his aftershave in her nose quickly overpowering that fleeting glee. “The plant on all the tables. I have one at home too. They’re notoriously hard to keep alive.”
Though not robbed of its clarity by the merciless cacophony still ringing around those walls, his chuckling response went wholly unheard, a sharp gasp escaping June’s lips as a searing pain erupted in her knee.
“Ow!” she exclaimed, left hand absently reaching to steady herself with the nearest pillar of solidity, while the other darted downward to appease her now throbbing leg.
“Sorry,” a passerby grunted. “Busy place. Watch where you’re stepping.”
“You okay?”
Again, Howzer went ignored, June’s narrowed gaze affixed on the back of the retreating Zabraki man who had nearly knocked her off her feet as he pushed his way through the throng.
“What happened?” Howzer tried again, this time successfully stealing her attention.
“Nothing,” June dismissed, cheeks flushing upon the realization the support she’d mindlessly sought amidst that unexpected jostle was the crook of that Captain’s elbow. “Guy just knocked into me on his way by. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, this place is always a madhouse,” Howzer answered, resuming normal posture and offering her an apologetic nod. “Stay close.”
Whether the shift was intentional or not, June soon found the back of her hand near-clamped between Howzer’s torso and elbow, the gentle pinch he’d applied to seemingly keep her grasp exactly where it had landed instantly took her mind off the bruise forming earnestly just below her kneecap.
As they lumbered forward in that lagging queue, mahogany floorboards creaking with every step, June’s focus shifted from the drape of her cold fingers around that scuffed plastoid to the display cases passing on her left side— floor to ceiling shelves presented some of the most immaculately prepared pastries she’d ever laid her eyes on; glazed donuts gleaming like edible orbs neath those overhead lights, richly decadent brownies blanketed in a crust of finely chopped nuts, strudels happily leaking their jellied innards onto the emerald green doilies they laid upon whilst waiting to be ingested. On the other side of that scrumptious exhibit, and only visible through gaps between that prolific array of decadence, scurried a dozen green-aproned staff members. Multicoloured hands of all shapes and sizes appeared routinely behind those delicacies, a sheet of protective wax flimsi draped atop palms preparing to extract the confection that some lucky patron up ahead had just claimed as their own. And though her mouth watered uncontrollably at first sight of a delectable looking meiloorun muffin, June’s thoughts had wandered near urgently toward the egregiously overdue caf her very cells continued to demand with each passing, uncaffeinated moment.
“Whatcha gettin’?” Howzer asked as they neared the front counter, her nose flooded with that intoxicating yet unfamiliar, delicate musk as he lowered his lips to a mere breath from her ear.
“Ummmm,” June hesitated, brows furrowing as her eyes danced fervently around the exorbitant list of foreign-beaned caf’s scrawled upon a chalkboard on the wall opposite. “Whatever it was that you sent to my office last week?”
“That was the Apple Java,” he advised her, pointing toward the center of the list. “Large?”
“Extra-large…”
The sudden exposure of that chronic caf addiction, and the way those dark brows raised at her seemingly mechanical, knee-jerk response, would have had her near-cringing neath the weight of self-consciousness had it not been for the smile quickly peeling across those dark lips, twinkly eyes softening as they danced warmly atop her features.
“Extra-large it is,” he repeated with the subtlest of snorts.
“I’ll buy though,” she hastily added, reaching to extract her wallet from the depths of her bag as he turned to greet the humanoid waiting behind the cash register.
“What?” he demanded. “No way! I’m ordering for like sixteen people.”
“So?”
“So! That’s going to cost you a fortune.”
“You fed the entire surgical floor with all those treats last week,” June argued with a shrug, removing her hand from the security of his elbow to unzip her wallet. “I can repay the favour.”
“That was differen—”
“Trust me when I say: I’m more stubborn than you are, and you will not win this.”
She watched his once-smiling lips purse ahead of unsaid protests, gaze narrowing slightly as it bore into hers, seemingly resolute in witnessing the first twitch of muscle that might lay bare any hesitation on her part… but she met that surveying leer with a stern, unwavering one of her own, blue piercing brown as if daring him to object further.
“Fine,” he consented atop the ghost of chuckle. “But put that hand back.”
She repressed a smile as he turned and began to order (twelve regular caf, four decaf, and one extra-large Apple Java), every subsequent breath escaping past her lips struggling to ignore the flutter that had erupted in her gut as he'd assertively collected her cold fingers and directed them back to their previous wreath around his elbow.
“Here’s the Apple Java, and the decaf,” the cashier announced hardly a minute later, passing a familiar looking flimsi cup across that mahogany counter to June’s outstretched palm, and a cardboard carrying tray of four others to Howzer. “We’re just brewing a fresh pot of regular caf. Give us a few minutes, and we’ll call you over when it’s ready.”
June followed in the Captain’s wake a half dozen paces toward one of the smaller tables anchored against the wall, the soul-warming aroma of apple and peekaboo vanilla wafting upward from the container in her hands near-banishing those irksome butterflies. With a small squeal of released anticipation and excitement she popped open the tab on that duraplas lid and took a sip of that scalding delight.
Snickering at the undeniable joy atop her features, Howzer pulled the nearest chair out from its perch beneath that scrubbed pine tabletop and gestured for her to sit, before placing both that laden travel tray and his helmet atop the table between them and taking a seat of his own.
“So you’re a full caffeine kinda guy,” June gleaned with a smirk, noting instantly that Howzer had failed to collect a cup from the collection on the table whilst she cradled hers with both hands.
“Oh absolutely,” Howzer answered, casting the decaffeinated collection of cups in front of him a near-revolted look. “What’s the point of drinking a caf if it’s not to wake you up?”
“Warmth?” June suggested with a small shrug. “Flavour? Even with reduced caffeine levels, it’s a fantastic analeptic. Some like to keep their cortisol levels low. Not to mention it keeps the bowels moving…”
June hurried to hide the flush rising earnestly to her cheeks behind that flimsi container as Howzer’s head tipped back amidst a full chested laugh that promised to dismantle her composure, nose scrunching neath his amusement and raising the little hairs on her arms.
“I guess those are all pretty valid reasons,” he spoke, draping an arm casually atop the backrest of his seat and peering across the table at her with that characteristic twinkle behind his eyes.
She shirked his gaze as discreetly as she could, pretending to pluck a nonexistent piece of fluff from the rim of her drink as she fought to restrain the newly invigorated flapabout in her gut.
“Tell me about class,” he continued as she hurried to pacify the lingering capriciousness by bringing her caf to her lips again. “What happened that made your boss so happy?”
June paused only long enough to force that still blistering liquid down her throat before offering him an evasive, one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know,” she mused, licking the remnants of the last gulp from her top lip and sitting up straight in her chair. “The guys in class have always seemed so …uninterested? It's been really hard to get them to engage with any of the content we’ve been trying to teach them, despite doing everything we can to make the lectures interesting.”
“They’re just not paying attention?” Howzer probed.
“Right… or paying attention to the wrong thing, or being disruptive. Some of them would just spend all three lecture hours sleeping… Some of them would stare at me like it was some stupid game and it drove me up the kriffing wall… Others at least tried to make it look like they were paying attention, but it’s not hard to spot someone that’s napping with their eyes open…
“Today they were actually responsive… even borderline excited about what they were learning. I know, for a soldier, it’s probably not super exhilarating stuff that we’re teaching but… I don’t know. I think it’s all pretty cool once you understand the importance of the material? Maybe I’m just a giant dork, but…”
“Well…” Howzer started as her thoughts trailed away. “You said it, not me...”
“Oh ha ha ha,” June feigned with a roll of her eyes, though a smirk peeled across her lips.
The feeling of his amber-eyed, surveying gaze back atop her features forced her eyes back to the lid on her cup, bringing a cold finger to trail thoughtlessly around the rim of that white duraplas.
“I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to take it too personally,” Howzer continued after a moment’s pause. “That’s a bit of a weird age for troopers, to be honest. This is their first time off Kamino. They’re used to being barked at round the clock by ARC Troopers who wouldn’t recognize ‘consideration’ if it bit them on the ass. All these guys know is having their critical thinking tested every minute of every day, learning respect, and camaraderie, and strategy… all that kind of stuff. Now they’re sitting in a quiet classroom on a foreign planet, separated from everyone they grew up with, being taught combat medicine by civilians. It’s no excuse for, well… staring, but it’ll all be pretty foreign to those guys for a while.”
Gnawing mindlessly on her left thumbnail, June let his words wash over her, a peculiar sensation lurching deep in her gut that felt something-near …guilt.
“Hmm,” she hummed, pulling her finger from its clamp between her lips atop the cold realization that maybe… after all these weeks… she hadn’t been the only person uncomfortable in that classroom. “So it probably feels as awkward for them as it does for me?”
Howzer nodded, that infamously warm gaze thankfully lacking any semblance of judgment or critique as it landed back upon her. “Probably more so, considering almost all of them have probably never talked to a girl before. I know the ‘hot teacher’ comment bothered you but… they’re still learning.”
“Who said it bothered me?” June retorted, though the indignance of her demand diminished instantly upon seeing the deeply skeptical look he cast from across the table. Pursing her lips to repress a culpable grin, she hid behind her coffee cup and asked, “I was that obvious, eh?”
“June, your face speaks louder than your words ever could,” he snickered. “Those eyes could light someone on fire if they glared hard enough.”
June offered only a repressed snort, unable to offer him the titter he deserved whilst her insides churned amidst a simmering remorse that she hadn’t expected to feel for that century of once-disrespectful soldiers. “Kriff, now I feel like an asshole,” she mumbled.
“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Howzer replied with an appeasing smile. “They’re tough. And if they’re not yet, they will be soon. But—” Abruptly plagued by an unprecedented wash of what appeared to be diffidence, he paused to clear his throat and redirect his gaze to a blemish on the crown of his helmet. “—If you want them to stop staring, I’d maybe ditch the glasses.”
“What?” June asked, upper lip cocking in confusion. “Why?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he started, eyes following his fingers as they began to absently drum atop that worn wooden table. “They’re nice. Um, really nice. Almost distracting… I guess?”
The profound reddening of his ears nowhere matched that of her cheeks. Skin prickling as uncomfortably as if the beaming sun beyond that tinkling doorbell had managed to scorch both her shoulders and every inch of her face, she instantly lifted her hand again to subconsciously hide behind that emerald green cup.
“Caf’s up!”
That stentorian call thankfully spared June the need to respond, and they stood from those rickety wooden chairs as if the seats had suddenly burned white hot below their butts. As Howzer scooped his helmet from the table and tucked it neatly neath his arm, June collected the travel tray and followed him back toward the counter.
The twelve regular cups of caf had been smartly divided into trays of four like their decaffeinated counterparts, but with one of June’s hands occupied by her own cup, and Howzer’s helmet plaguing the mobility of his right arm, it quickly became little more than a game of tetris attempting to figure out exactly how the only two remaining limbs were going to successfully cargo sixteen steaming cups of caf for the four-block journey back to Base.
After several precarious and time-consuming attempts at stacking them on top of each other, and much to the mixed amused annoyance of the still bustling queue behind them, June heaved a sigh. “Can you just put that damn helmet on,” she bossed at Howzer atop an exasperated chuckle. “We need your second arm.”
“No,” Howzer refuted instantly. “I won’t be able to see you properly. And I don’t like having it on if I don’t have to...”
“You don’t need to see me, you just need to see where you’re walki—”
“But I want t—”
“‘Kay fine,” she interjected, rolling her eyes and putting her cup of caf down on the counter. “If you balance them on my arm, I can take two trays in one hand and my cup in the other.” Though he cocked an eyebrow at her in a motion of unadulterated doubt, she dismissed his silent concern with an impatient shake of the head. “It’s okay, I used to be a server.”
Atop the rapidly growing pressure of agitation behind them, June insisted. “I’ll be fine, just do it before someone tries to take out my other kneecap.”
Looking as though he thoroughly disagreed with this seemingly impulsive plan, Howzer carefully lowered one tray on top of the other on June’s awaiting right wrist, hands lingering only inches from that teetering tower, poised to resume the weight should she let slip even a whimper of discomfort.
Though it prickled against her sunburnt chest, letting those heavy trays tip backward against her skin diminished some of their burden, and she quickly offered him a nod of approval before collecting her own cup and stepping back from the counter. Once Howzer had balanced his own allotted pair of travel trays, they carefully made for the door.
“You were going to send a cadet to do this?” June snorted as they traversed that sunlit path back to Base, heart seizing for the fourth time in as many minutes as her dribbling freight gave a perilous wobble in her arms and threatened to douse her lower half in scalding hot caf.
“Absolutely,” he laughed. “It’s a great character building exercise.”
“Character building?!” she repeated, utterly aghast. “Pffffft! Seems kinda mean if you ask me, but if that’s what lets you sleep at night.”
“Says the girl who slept in this morning,” he snarked back at her, turning to give her a smirk so dazzling, the discomfort of that hot and heavy cargo momentarily vanished.
“You know what,” June argued neath a chuckle, “I think I deserve a little credit for not sleeping in every kriffing morning. Not only do my shifts never end on time, but my bed is soft, and big, and warm, and a challenge to get out of on any given day…”
“Sounds like a place I’d like to be,” Howzer chortled, turning to grant a fellow trooper in a suit of white and orange a casual nod as they passed each other along that path.
Howzer clearly thought nothing of it, continuing toward their destination unaffected by that off-the-cuff remark, and wholly unaware of the way June’s shoulders had slumped near-theatrically in its wake. Yet, June’s stomach fell with speed thrice that of which they walked, disappointment wiping the lingering remnants of that diminishing amusement from her lips whilst the darkest corner of her mind eagerly raised a red flag and flapped it earnestly across her awareness.
‘So that’s what he wants,’ she concluded, the hubris of her distaste for men instantly usurping the unfamiliar giddiness that had seen her near-intoxicated by his presence for days… weeks. ‘To visit to my bed.’
And the sudden and complete banishment of that teased sense of adventure— that fleeting feeling of ‘maybe I was wrong’ or ‘maybe there are men I can tolerate…’ — had that once gloriously enriching Apple Java cascading down the back of her tongue like spoiled vinegar.
“Sorry—” she muttered after a contemptuous snort, dropping her gaze to her toes and watching that gum-embedded pathway lead them back to Base. “By formal invitation only.”
An impossibly urgent sense of relief surged through her veins as the first signs of that construction-laden building came into view across the road, the gargantuan glass doors they’d left through some time earlier glimmering in the oppressive midday sun as they approached that barbed gate, stopping only so Howzer could scan his wrist comm below the sensor and permit them access.
“June?”
It was only then she realized he’d been talking. Too lost in her own welling disappointment and simmering sense of regret, she’d thoughtlessly tuned out everything around her.
“Sorry, yeah?” she answered, squinting amidst the effort of finding that olive face.
“You still okay there?” Howzer repeated, gesturing with a nod to the cargo she’d, once again, entirely forgotten she was carrying.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, knowing if she divulged the small river of scalding hot caf trickling from her wrist to her elbow, it would only further delay the end of this interaction.
“Okay. Gimme one quick sec,” Howzer requested of her, stopping as the gate closed behind them and shifting his own freight enough to bring his forearm to his mouth. “Spades… come in.”
“‘Sup, cap?” chirped a nearly identical voice through the static of that hidden communication system.
“Status on barracks?” Howzer asked.
“Barracks?” that voice repeated neath an incredulous laugh. “Uhhh… well, nine battalions have landed since last night so it’s safe to say ‘crowded’ is an appropriate word.”
“Duty or dismissed?”
“Unless uniform policy has changed and we’re allowed to loaft around in our underwear on duty, I’m going to guess dismissed. Why? Aren’t you supposed to be in the briefing anyway?”
“Meeting doesn’t start for a few minutes,” Howzer clarified, and I’ve, er… got some company. Thanks for the intel.”
June watched him glance somewhat apologetically in her direction before ending that somewhat cryptic conversation, eyes hardening slightly, as if her labeling her as such was mildly offensive.
‘Company?’ she scowled. ‘Barracks?’
“You trying to show off your bed, now?” June queried with a cocked brow, watching that sharp jaw tense whilst he chewed his lip, brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he silently deciphered some mental puzzle she wasn’t yet privy to
“No,” Howzer chuckled, a lop-sided smile returning quickly to those lips. “Trust me, it’s nothing to bat an eye at. Come on, we’ll go through the hangar.”
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Fives 2.0 x 4. Great take on Echo’s escape. 😃
Just over here admiring the level of sheer blind trust Echo put into this band of strange-looking clones that he had literally just met, by agreeing to be tossed by a gigantic bear of a man 20 feet (give or take) through the air up to a small ventilation shaft while clinging to the back of the guy who's wearing glasses in an active combat zone.
This, after having just been released from cryofreeze with two prosthetic legs he likely hasn't had any practice actually walking on + a scomp for a hand (meaning if anything goes wrong with this stunt, there's likely very little he can do to save himself).
(May I just add that THE Anakin Skywalker is apparently just standing back watching all this go down before finally saying he doesn't actually need Wrecker's help to reach the shaft because, you know, the Force?)
Of course, Echo's an ARC trooper who had Fives as a squad mate... But he's basically putting his life in the hands of 4 versions of Fives 2.0 on steroids, immediately after waking up from months of torture/coma.
AND THEN within 10 minutes of this, he has to leap onto the back of a winged creature, and does so without any question apart from raised eyebrows.
Mad respect, Echo. Mad respect!
@vodika-vibes This is fluffily beautiful!!! Thank you for writing my request! ❤️❤️ The actual inspiration was my brother back when we were teens. Used to piss my dad off that he couldn’t communicate right away. Their solution was The Head Pat. 💖
Hi Vod’ika! I enjoy your stories so much! May I make a request? Prompt category Physical Gestures. Perky morning person (F) a little insecure. Chronically sleep-deprived clone BF can’t talk to her until he’s had morning caf and some time. Compromise is a pat on the head (or similar) as he walks by to acknowledge her presence without engaging until he’s awake. Perhaps Hunter, Rex, Fox or Wolffe. Thank you for considering. 😊
Morning Person
Summary: Fox loves his girlfriend. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He even loves how bright and bubbly she is first thing in the morning. It’s not her fault he cannot function without a cup of caf first thing in the morning.
Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader
Word Count: 1031
Warnings: Reader is described as having long hair that "tumbles down her back" and she can wear it in a bun on the top of her head.
A/N: Hihi! You sent this in and I immediately knew what I wanted to write! But then it turned into something soft and fluffy at the end, lol. Thanks for your request~
Click HERE to be added to my taglist
Fox hates mornings.
In his, professional, opinion. Any time before 10 should be illegal, and he shouldn’t be forced to work before noon.
Tragically, the galaxy very rarely cares about what he wants, so here he is. Awake and sort of aware at 7 am.
The bed next to him is still a little warm, but that tracks. His perfect cyare wakes up at 6:30 every morning, even on days when she doesn’t have to work. Distantly, he can hear her moving around the kitchen, and soon enough the familiar scent of breakfast sausage cooking wafts into the bedroom.
Fuck, he loves her.
Groggily, he rolls off the bed, and stumbles into the fresher to shower for the day. It doesn’t help wake him up, but it needs to happen, and if he doesn’t do it now, it won’t get done.
One quick shower later, Fox meanders his way through the apartment he shares with his cyare and into the kitchen. There, standing at the stove with a spatula in her hand, is his cyare.
Her hair is pulled into a knot at the top of her head, and she’s clad in one of his shirts and her frog covered sleep pants. She’s adorable. And she notices him as soon as he steps into the room.
“Morning Fox~” She chirps, “Did you sleep well?”
Fox grunts an affirmative noise and walks over to her. Normally, he would pat her head and kiss her forehead as a way to acknowledge her in the morning, but her hairstyle forbids it this morning.
So, instead, he kisses her temple and rubs his thumb down the back of her neck, before he steps around her to grab the, already prepared, cup of caf.
His poor cyare is a little insecure about her place in his life, even now, and so does everything in her power to be useful to him. This means, in this case, that she makes him breakfast every morning and preps his caf the way that he likes before he wakes up.
He, personally, thinks it’s ridiculous. Why would he want to look at another woman when he has her, after all? But she’s allowed her insecurities. It’s his job to make sure that they don’t overwhelm her.
When they first moved in together, she took his silence in the morning as an indication that he wasn’t happy with her. Though she never mentioned her thoughts to him, she just allowed the belief to work her into an anxious frenzy, until she broke down sobbing one morning asking him if he didn’t love her anymore.
That had been a mess and a half to clean up and untangle.
Together, they worked out that so long as he acknowledges her in the morning, even if it’s something as simple as a touch and a kiss, it keeps her from overthinking everything.
He settles on one of the kitchen chairs, silently nursing his caf, as he watches her make breakfast for them. She’s humming along with the radio, and a small smile lifts his lips.
Her hair is a mess, she’s not wearing any make-up. Her clothes are wrinkled and worn, or very childish in the case of her pants. She would be the first one to say that this is when she looks her worst.
She’s wrong.
Right here, first thing in the morning, when it’s just him and her and no one else, she’s never more beautiful. He really is a lucky asshole.
He watches her plate breakfast, sausage, toast, fresh fruit, and some juice, then she sets a plate in front of him, before sitting in the chair next to him.
That’s about the time she realizes that he’s staring at her.
“What?”
Fox absently pushes his mug to the side, and reaches out for her, his hand settling on her cheek as he coaxes her closer to him so he’s able to press kisses across her face. His free hand reaches up to tug the rubber band out of her hand, allowing her long hair to fall around her shoulders and down her back.
A giggle falls from her as he pushes her hair out of her face, so he can continue kissing her, “Fox! Our breakfast will get cold!”
“It’ll keep,” He mumbles against her jaw, “Love you.”
One of her hands tangles in his curls, while the other curls around his bicep. “Silly man, what’s gotten into you?”
Fox just hums and continues pressing feather-light kisses across her face, until he finally catches her lips with his own in a series of light kisses. Then he decides that she’s not nearly close enough, and he swiftly tugs her from her chair until she’s sitting on his lap.
Still not close enough, but it’ll do for now.
A sigh falls from her, soft and love-sick, and Fox grins against her lips before pulling away and pressing his forehead against hers.
She has a dreamy look on her face and a goofy smile on her lips, “Goodness,” She murmurs, her fingers falling from his curls to rest against his stubble-covered cheek, “Have I just been depriving you, Fox?”
“Went all night without kissing you,” Fox replies, suddenly very, very awake, “Had to make up for lost time.”
“Ah, so you’re not deprived. You’re spoiled.” Her voice is teasing and her eyes are soft. Her fingers trail against his jaw, and she huffs out a sigh, “You forgot to shave.”
“Didn’t forget. Didn’t feel like it. Too much effort.”
She shakes her head, “After breakfast, I’ll get the stuff and do it for you. I know how much you hate the feel of your stubble in your helmet.”
Fox feels his heart lurch in his chest. She really is perfect. And so, he pulls her into another kiss, though this time he doesn’t keep it chaste. If she’s not giggling like a schoolgirl when he finishes, then he’s not kissing her thoroughly enough.
The rest of the galaxy can take a hike. This, right now, is more important. And, just before he gets too lost in her lips, he can’t help but think that, just maybe, mornings aren’t that bad.
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Voracious reader of your Star Wars / Bad Batch / Clone Wars FanFic and Fan Art
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