The Bad Batch, Deleted Scene Ep 107

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I’m SO excited to read more of this. Completely agree Fox is a grumpy cutie who needs reassurance, naps, blankies and the good caf. And I absolutely loved Thorn basically marching him for treatment and how he knew Fox would 💯 skip out the moment he wasn’t looking 😂

Too Sweet

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader

Words: 6,140/20,589

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, description of blood/wound care, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, you can pry goofy Thorn out of my cold dead hands, smut in part 3? 4?

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.

A/N: Trying something a little different with more, shorter parts for these longer fics. Also forgot to say thanks for 650 followers! hello!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“For the last time, I don’t need a medic.”

Fox is trying to be polite about it, but the tone of his voice is bordering on a growl. Every push on his shoulder is a jab to his pride, making him hiss like an angry tooka-cat. He knows he's being ridiculous, but that's never stopped him before.

His patience is already thin, but it had been stretched to the breaking point by a series of unfortunate events over the course of the day. The first, and arguably the most annoying, had occurred at the beginning of his shift.

Fox had woken up late, and his alarm clock had gone off with a loud, obnoxious tone that had caused him to shoot straight up in his bed, slamming a fist onto the off button. He scrambled out of bed and dressed faster than he thought possible, then hurried into the mess hall for the early shift breakfast. He was late enough that the food line was empty, and his choice was between a bowl of sludgy porridge or an unidentifiable ration bar.

The ration bar had tasted like stale durasteel, and the porridge was more of a thick slop, so Fox had opted for the latter. He scarfed it down with a mug of caf after an overdrawn fight with the machine, which tried to refuse him more than one portion of caf. He had left the mess hall with his stomach growling and his mouth bitter with the aftertaste of the caf, and his mood had soured even further when he found the lift under maintenance, forcing him to take the stairs.

When he arrived at the office, there was an enormous stack of datapads on his desk. A new security system had just been installed throughout the city, and the details were apparently too sensitive to be kept on the holonet. The only copies of the schematics were the ones on the physical datapads, and Fox had the wonderful task of checking every single one.

By the time lunch came around, Fox had managed to read through half the stack despite the constant interruptions. Someone would come in and ask about some obscure policy, or a trooper would report that someone had thrown a bottle at him, and the Chancellor would call for updates, and all the while, Fox had to be careful not to crush the datapads with his gauntlets.

The Chancellor was especially persistent today, calling him in person to demand a detailed analysis of the new security measures. Fox was forced to leave the datapads behind in order to give him an impromptu briefing, which ended with the Chancellor dismissing him with a wave of his hand and a curt, "I'm sure you have more important things to attend to."

Fox was seething when he returned to his office, and in a last minute attempt to escape his prison and an effort to calm himself, he decided to walk the patrol route himself instead of sending a trooper.

Of course, this had to be the day that every citizen on Coruscant decided to commit a crime, from a jaywalking elderly woman to a pair of pickpockets that had made off with a trooper's blaster. There was an argument outside a bar, an illegal speeder chase, and a man had decided to start a fire in the middle of the street, and all this had happened in the span of less than two hours.

Thorn had thought it was funny, but Fox hadn't found it nearly as entertaining. And now, he's been injured during the scuffle with the firestarter, and Thorn is making a big fuss about it.

Fox's shoulder throbs with pain as he moves, and he tries to ignore the way the skin is tightening around the wound. It's only a scratch, but it's deep, and Fox can feel blood oozing out of the cut and dripping down his armor. His head is pounding, and his chest aches from having been slammed against the duracrete by the man's boot.

A hand presses down on his shoulder, and Fox flinches away with another hiss. He turns on Thorn with a scowl

"I'm fine," he growls, shrugging Thorn's hand off his shoulder. "Leave it alone."

"Fox," Thorn says. He's trying to sound reasonable, but Fox can hear the exasperation in his voice. "It's a karking gash on your arm. I can't leave it alone."

Fox rolls his eyes. "I'm not letting you drag me back to the medbay for something as minor as this," he says. He turns and starts walking, heading towards the Senate building. "We've got more important things to do."

"I'm not dragging you to the medbay," Thorn says, running to catch up. He grabs Fox's arm and yanks him to a stop. "You're going to GMF. It's on the way to the Senate anyway."

"What? No!" Fox sputters, but Thorn is already pulling him down the street. He digs his heels into the ground, but Thorn is stronger than he is, and the other commander pulls him forward without breaking his stride.

"You're coming with me whether you like it or not," Thorn says, his voice firm. He doesn't loosen his grip, and Fox can only follow along helplessly. "The office will survive without you for a couple of hours."

"Thorn, you're not—"

"Yes, I am."

Fox scowls. Thorn isn't budging, and neither is he, and they've reached a stalemate. He's considering the merits of just sitting down and refusing to move, but before he can even make a decision, they're already at GMF.

"Let's go," Thorn says, pulling him up the steps. "Just stop trying to act tough and get over yourself."

Fox wants to protest, but Thorn has an iron grip on his arm, and he doesn't want to risk a public spectacle, so he allows himself to be pulled inside.

"Fine," he huffs. He can already feel a headache coming on, and his stomach is still grumbling in protest at its meager breakfast. Maybe he'll be able to sneak away before anyone notices, and no one will ever know that the Commander of the Guard was seen at GMF for such a minor injury.

"That's the spirit," Thorn says, grinning. He pulls on Fox's arm again, and this time, Fox lets himself be dragged away.

They've been sitting in the waiting room for a few minutes, and Fox is already starting to regret his decision. It's a busy day at GMF, and a steady stream of injured people are filing into the building, filling the waiting room with a cacophony of moans and groans.

Fox's shoulder is starting to throb again, and the wound is leaking blood into the fabric of his blacks. Thorn is tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair, his expression thoughtful.

"I wonder how many people are in here because of you," he says, looking around the room. There's a group of young men sitting on the opposite side of the room, nursing a variety of wounds. "They must be getting sick of seeing the Guard around here."

Fox glares at him, and Thorn chuckles.

"You'd think they'd learn their lesson and stop committing crimes," Fox mutters.

"We'd all like that," he laughs. "But we both know that won't happen."

Fox sighs, leaning back against the wall. He shifts slightly, trying to find a comfortable position. He's still annoyed about his arm, and now the smell of bacta is starting to get to him. It had always had a pungent, chemical smell to him, and the scent of the various medical supplies is making him queasy. 

He can feel his stomach starting to churn, and he closes his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. The bright fluorescent lights are only making things worse, and the sound of the door sliding open and closed as various people walked in and out of the medical wing is grating on his nerves.

It doesn't help that Thorn is sitting right next to him, staring him down like he's a suspect in an interrogation. He'd caught on to Fox's plan to slip away almost as soon as they'd stepped into the room, and Fox had been forced to endure his company as they waited for their turn.

"How long is this going to take?"

"They said they were pretty busy today," Thorn says. "I'm not sure, but you're probably going to be waiting for a while."

"Great."

"Don't be such a baby. It'll be over before you know it."

Fox groans and leans back in his chair. He can't help but think of all the work that he should be doing right now. The stack of datapads has probably gotten taller since they left the office, and he'll have even more work to do once he returns.

He hates the feeling of wasting time, especially when there's so much to be done, and at this rate, he'll be lucky if he manages to finish the rest of his work by nightfall. And that was if the Chancellor didn't call him again.

"You should go back," Fox says, looking up at Thorn. "I can handle this."

Thorn raises an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous look.

"And let you weasel your way out of getting that arm checked out?" he scoffs. "I don't think so."

Fox shoots him a glare, but Thorn only grins.

"Nice try, but no," he says. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Thorn—"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Fox sighs and slumps in his seat. He can see that Thorn isn't going to budge, and he doesn't have the energy to argue with him. His shoulder is really starting to hurt now, and the bleeding hasn't slowed down yet. He's getting dizzy, and the queasiness is growing stronger

He closes his eyes, resting his head against the wall. He feels terrible, and the longer he sits here, the worse he feels. The smell of the bacta is making his stomach turn, and the noise and chaos in the room is starting to get to him.

The medical center always brings back memories of the Kaminoans, and he was usually only ever here when one of his brothers was seriously injured. He doesn't have fond feelings towards the place.

"This is a waste of time," Fox mutters. "I could be working, or doing literally anything else right now."

"You know it's not a waste of time," Thorn says. He's looking around the room, keeping a close eye on the other people. "You're injured, and you need to get that taken care of. Stop being such a stubborn di'kut."

Fox is about to say something in response, his eyes land on a medical droid heading their way. He lets out a sigh of relief and gets to his feet. Finally, his suffering is about to end.

"Commander Fox?" the medical droid asks, stopping in front of him with a metallic whir.

"Yes, that's me."

"Please follow me. We're ready for you now."

"Finally," Fox mutters, ignoring Thorn's chuckle. 

He follows the droid down a long, white corridor, his footsteps echoing against the tile floor. He keeps his eyes forward, refusing to look back at Thorn. He doesn't want to see the smug look on his brother's face.

After a few minutes, the droid leads them into an examination room and motions for him to sit down on the cot. Fox complies, perching on the edge of the thin mattress and crossing his arms, trying not to fidget, and Thorn takes a seat in the chair in the corner of the room.

The droid is quick and efficient, running the scanner over his shoulder and chest and checking the readouts. It tells him that he'll need some stitches and bacta treatment, and Fox sigh, nodding his agreement.

"Thank you, Commander," the droid says. It stands still for a moment, processing its data, and then turns and exits the room.

"You're not getting out of this one," Thorn says as soon as the doors shut behind the droid.

"I know," Fox grumbles, slumping in his seat. He rests his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. "I just want to get this over with."

Thorn shakes his head, a smile playing across his lips. He doesn't say anything, but Fox knows he's just happy to have won. They're both competitive, and any victory, no matter how small, is something to celebrate.

"Stop that," Fox snaps. He doesn't want to deal with Thorn's smugness. He's already irritated, and the last thing he needs is for his brother to rub his victory in his face.

"Stop what?" Thorn asks, feigning innocence.

“That thing that you’re doing with your face.”

“It’s called smiling, Fox, you should try it sometime. I think you could use the practice,” Thorn teases, and Fox rolls his eyes.

Before he can come up with a retort, the door opens, and Fox reflexively straightens, preparing himself for the worst. The medical droids aren't exactly known for their gentle touches and bedside manner.

To his surprise, the person who enters the room isn't a medical droid. 

Fox feels his eyes widen as he takes in the decidedly human figure standing in the doorway, a datapad in hand. Wearing a crisp, clean set of medical whites, you stand tall, and his first thought is that you're beautiful.

His second thought is that you look far too cheerful for someone working in a medical facility. Your eyes are bright, and you're smiling, and the expression is so warm and genuine that it makes him wonder how you're managing to maintain it in a place like this.

It's a nice smile.

It isn't until Thorn clears his throat that Fox realizes he's been staring at you for the last few seconds, and he hastily looks away just as you glance up from the datapad.

"Hello," you say, your voice soft. "Commander Fox, is it?"

"Y-yes," he manages to reply, feeling his cheeks flush.

"And I'm Commander Thorn," Thorn chimes in, and he shoots him a smug look when Fox turns to glare at him.

"Well, hello," you say. Your voice is warm and melodic, and your eyes are sparkling. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"The pleasure's all mine," Thorn replies, flashing you a grin.

"Yeah," Fox mumbles. "Pleasure."

He's never felt so awkward in his life, and he's suddenly acutely aware of the blood on his armor, the way his hair is sticking up in all directions, and the fact that he hasn't slept in a couple days. You, on the other hand, look fresh and put together, and you're practically glowing.

You introduce yourself, and you give them a brief summary of your qualifications and experience. Fox doesn't pay much attention to what you're saying. He's too busy trying not to stare at you, and it isn't until he hears the word 'bacta' that he snaps back to reality.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

"Bacta," you repeat, tilting your head slightly. "It's a healing substance that stimulates the body's natural ability to regenerate tissue."

"I know what bacta is," he says, his tone coming out harsher than he intended.

You blink at him, clearly startled by his response, and Fox feels his face heating up.

"Right," you say, clearing your throat. You offer him a small, polite smile, and he looks away, embarrassed. "As I was saying, we'll need to administer a small dose of bacta to the area where the injury occurred. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Fine." Fox crosses his arms and tries not to scowl, and you turn away, tapping on your datapad again. Thorn kicks him in the shin, and Fox gives him a look. The other commander gestures with his eyes to you, and Fox frowns, shaking his head.

"Do you have any allergies or medical conditions?" you ask, looking up from the screen.

"No," Fox says, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. The mattress is far too thin, and the metal frame is digging into the back of his knees. "I already told the droid."

"Right," you say. "Just making sure."

Fox glances over at Thorn, who gives him an exasperated look, and Fox sighs. He knows that he's being difficult, but he can't seem to stop himself. His shoulder hurts, his head is throbbing, and his stomach is rumbling, and he just wants to get this over with so he can return to the office and finally finish the rest of his work.

He looks back at you and sees that you're staring at him. You're looking at him with concern, and your lips are pressed into a thin line. You're not smiling anymore, and Fox feels a twinge of guilt.

"You don't have to be nervous," you say. "This is going to be a quick procedure, and it won't hurt at all. We'll use a local anesthetic and numbing spray, and you won't feel a thing."

"I'm not nervous," Fox protests, his face flushing. "I just don't have time for this."

"I understand," you say, and your expression softens. "But this is important, and we need to make sure that you're taken care of."

Fox wants to argue, but there's a hint of steel in your tone, and the look in your eyes is firm. You're clearly not going to let him get out of this, and he sighs, resigning himself to his fate.

"Alright," he says, reluctantly.

"Great," you say, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

He feels a little better when you smile at him, and he tries not to smile back. You turn away, busying yourself with setting up the equipment, and Fox takes the opportunity to look at you again. You're standing with your back to him, and he can see the outline of your figure through your medical whites. You're not very tall, but you're not short either, and he wonders how old you are. You can't be older than twenty-five, he guesses, but it's hard to tell with natborns.

"How did you get that injury, anyway?" you ask, glancing over your shoulder.

"Work-related incident," Fox says. He doesn't want to tell you the truth. He doesn't want you to think he's a clumsy idiot, or that he can't do his job properly.

"Oh," you say, sounding a little surprised. You turn back to the equipment, and he can see the muscles in your back tense. "That sounds... dangerous."

"It's nothing," Fox says, his voice low. "I can handle it."

"Of course," you say softly. You turn around and walk over to the cot, your gaze focused on the equipment. "Okay, armor off, Commander. Let's see it."

Fox stiffens, his heart skipping a beat. "I—what?"

"The injury," you say, your brow furrowing slightly. You reach over and brush your fingers against his arm. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Fox says, a little too quickly. 

Thorn lets out a snort, and Fox glares at him. He just raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face, and Fox rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, it's been a long day," he says as he turns back to you. "Just a bit tired, is all."

"That's understandable," you say, your lips curving into a small, sympathetic smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been on my feet since 0600."

"I think you win," Fox says, his voice dry.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, and his heart skips a beat again. It's a nice sound, and he feels a strange surge of pride at having caused it.

He was truly terrible at making small talk, and most people found his dry sense of humor off-putting. The fact that you had laughed at his words, even if it had been a polite, professional laugh, was surprising. It was hard not to see it as a small victory in an otherwise terrible day.

You smile at him again, and he feels a sudden urge to smile back. You look like you're about to say something, but then your datapad beeps, and the moment is lost.

"I'll be right back," you say. "Just got to check something."

You step out of the room, and Fox lets out a breath, relieved that you're gone. He hadn't expected you to be so friendly, or to be so concerned about him. Most natborns just saw the troopers as an extension of their equipment, and they only spoke to him if there was a problem. You're different, though, and it's unnerving.

"You're blushing."

"What?" Fox sputters, turning to Thorn. "What are you talking about?"

"Your face is red," Thorn says with a wide grin.

"It's the lights," he says, pointing to the ceiling. "They're too bright."

"I didn't know we could blush," Thorn teases. "That's kinda cute."

"Shut up."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you're not at least a little bit interested."

Fox sighs and shakes his head. "Not now, Thorn. We're in a medical center, not a bar."

"Good thing, too." Thorn stands up and starts to help him unlatch his armor, a smirk on his face. "Cause if we were, you wouldn't have a chance. She's way out of your league."

"You're the worst," Fox says, and he swats Thorn's hands away and reaches up to unfasten his shoulder plates himself.

"She's pretty," Thorn continues, ignoring him. He pulls off Fox's pauldrons and sets them on the ground. "And she's not scared of you, either. That's a first."

"Yeah, well, she works in a medical facility," Fox mutters, slipping out of his cuirass. "They must have taught her how to deal with difficult patients."

"Maybe," Thorn says. He removes the rest of Fox's armor, placing it carefully on the ground, and then steps back. "But I don't think that's it. She's nice."

"She's paid to be nice."

"That's not fair, and you know it."

"I don't need you playing matchmaker," Fox grumbles.

"Fine," Thorn says, crossing his arms. "But if you don't ask for her frequency, I will."

Fox's eyes widen. "Don't you dare—"

The doors slide open again, and you step inside, your expression bright. "Sorry about that."

Your gaze is focused on the gloves you're pulling over your hands as you walk in, but as soon as you look up, your smile vanishes, and you freeze. Your eyes are fixed on his arm, and Fox quickly glances down, noticing the large dark patch of blood seeping through his undershirt.

"Oh, Commander!" you exclaim, hurrying towards him.

"It's not that bad," he says. He hadn't realized how bad it was until now, and his heart is pounding in his chest. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Your tone is stern, and he finds himself shrinking back a little under your intense gaze. "Now sit still."

Fox does as he's told, watching as you pull a stool over and set up a tray. Your movements are swift and practiced, and you don't seem at all bothered by the amount of blood. You're frowning, but your eyes are calm, and Fox finds himself relaxing a little.

"Let's get this over with," you mutter.

You're not smiling anymore, and it unsettles him. He'd thought that he had imagined the steel in your voice earlier, but now he can hear it clearly, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Yes, sir," he says, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's doctor, actually."

Fox winces.

"My mistake," he mutters, his voice apologetic. "Force of habit."

You look at him, and he thinks he sees the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but before he can be sure, your face is composed and neutral again.

"Would you prefer I cut the sleeve off, or would you rather take it off yourself?"

"I'll do it."

You nod, and he lifts his arms, peeling the soaked fabric away from his skin. His stomach clenches at the sight of the deep, bloody gash, and the stench of copper is heavy in the air. He can feel the blood beginning to trickle down his arm, and the sight of his pale, slick flesh is almost enough to make him vomit.

"Are you okay?" you ask, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"Yeah," Fox manages. He's feeling a little woozy, but he tries to push it down. "I'll be fine."

You give him a sympathetic look, and he looks away, his gaze fixed on the wall.

"Okay," you say. You grab a vial and a syringe and inject it into his arm. "This should help numb the pain. Try not to move."

Fox nods, and you lean closer, gently cleaning the wound. The smell of the disinfectant is strong, and he forces himself to focus on your face instead. Your expression is calm, and you're humming softly as you work, and he finds himself relaxing a little more.

"How did this happen, anyway?"

"Like I said, it's work-related."

"So it was a knife, then?"

Fox glances at the gash, and he nods. He can't tell if the cut is deep enough to require stitches or not, and he's a little worried that the knife might have hit an artery.

"You're going to have a nice scar."

"Good. It'll match the others," he mutters, his tone flat.

You pause for a moment, looking at him. Your expression is unreadable, but there's a sadness in your eyes that he doesn't understand. You resume cleaning the wound, and he tries not to think about it.

"Do you always go out in the field?" you ask.

"Sometimes."

"And do you usually get injured like this?"

"It's not uncommon."

"Hmm." You're quiet for a few moments, and then you glance up at him, your eyes filled with concern. "You're very brave."

Fox is stunned. No one has ever said anything like that to him before, and it catches him off guard. He doesn't know how to respond, and he just sits there, staring at you. You don't seem to mind, and you return your attention to his wound.

"This is a lot deeper than I thought," you murmur. "It'll need a few stitches."

"Okay," he says, his voice soft.

"Try to relax," you say, gently touching his arm.

He nods, and you begin to sew up the wound. He tries not to think about the fact that the needle is digging into his flesh, and instead focuses on the feeling of your gloved hands on his skin. They're gentle and warm, and the scent of the disinfectant is beginning to fade, replaced by the faintest trace of flowers.

He can't remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. His brothers are rarely so careful, and most people who touch him are doing so with the intention of causing him harm. It's a pleasant change, and he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected.

"Sorry," you say, glancing up at him. "Almost done."

"Take your time," Fox replies. "I'm in no rush."

That's patently untrue, but the lie slips from his lips easily, and he's rewarded by a smile. He can see Thorn giving him a pointed look, and he knows that his brother will never let him live it down. But right now, he doesn't care.

The smell of flowers grows stronger, and he realizes that it's coming from you. The scent is subtle, but pleasant, and he's surprised by how much he likes it. He wonders what the source is. Is it your hair? Your skin? Or maybe it's something you wear, like perfume. He can't quite tell, and the mystery is starting to bother him.

You finish suturing his wound, and you dab some bacta gel over the stitches, sealing them. The sensation is cool and soothing, and Fox lets out a soft sigh of relief.

"How does that feel?" you ask.

"Better."

"Good," you say, your expression softening. You reach out and squeeze his uninjured shoulder, and Fox's eyes widen slightly at the unexpected gesture. "You should be all set, Commander."

"Thanks," he says, and the word sounds awkward in his ears. He's never thanked anyone for treating his wounds before. Usually, it was a medic droid, or another trooper, and his thanks were never required. But somehow, the words seem necessary now.

"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice. You remove your gloves, tossing them in the bin, and turn to clean up your equipment. "Do you have any other injuries, Commander? Any other...work-related incidents?"

"No, nothing else."

"Good." You stand up and stretch, and Fox takes the opportunity to admire the shape of your body. He can't help himself, and he quickly looks away, a flush rising on his cheeks.

"Thank you," Thorn chimes in, and Fox nearly jumps out of his skin. He had almost forgotten that the other commander was there, and his brother is looking at him with a knowing smile.

"You're welcome," you say, smiling at Thorn. You turn to Fox and offer him a smile, too, and he tries to smile back. It probably looks more like a grimace, and he quickly drops it.

"Now, remember, if that gets infected, or the stitches come loose before they dissolve, I want you to come right back, okay? No excuses."

"Got it," Fox replies.

"I mean it, Commander," you say, and you give him a stern look. "Don't make me hunt you down."

Fox blinks, his heart skipping a beat. You're serious, and he finds himself nodding, agreeing without thinking.

"Yes, sir," he says, and then mentally curses himself. "Doctor."

You chuckle, and the sound makes his chest tighten. It's the nicest sound he's heard all day, and he can't help but smile. You give him a playful salute, and he returns it, and you laugh again.

"Well, I hope we don't see each other anytime soon," you say, grinning.

"Me, too," Fox mutters, before he stiffens. "I mea—"

"I know what you mean," you say, your eyes sparkling. You hold out a hand, and he hesitates for a moment before taking it. Your skin is warm, and his breath catches in his throat when you gently squeeze his hand. "Take care, Commander."

"You, too," he says, and your smile widens. 

You pick up your datapad and step around the cot, moving towards the door. As you pass him, Fox catches another hint of the flowery scent, and his eyes widen. Lavender. It's lavender.

"Have a good day, gentlemen," you say. You flash him one last smile, and then you're gone.

He lets out a long, slow breath, trying to process what just happened. He feels... strange. There's an odd warmth in his chest, and he's still not quite sure what it is. He doesn't think it's anything bad, but it's new, and he doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe it's the blood loss. Or the painkillers. Or maybe it's the bacta. Yeah, it's probably the bacta.

Thorn slaps him on the back, and he lets out a startled noise, nearly falling off the cot.

"I don't know what the hell that was," Thorn says, chuckling. "But it was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen."

"Shut up."

"Seriously," he continues. "She's definitely way out of your league. I might even say she's way out of mine."

"I'm leaving," Fox grumbles. He grabs his armor and starts putting it on, trying not to wince as the plates rub against the bandages. "Get out of my way."

"Sure, sure," Thorn says, stepping aside. He gives Fox a sidelong glance, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Just make sure you give her your frequency."

Fox stops, his helmet half-on. He stares at Thorn, his mouth agape, and then turns away, pulling his bucket on over his head. He's not about to give Thorn the satisfaction of an answer. Not when his brother is clearly enjoying his discomfort so much.

He stalks out of the room, his boots echoing against the tile floor. Thorn follows, laughing, and Fox can feel his cheeks burning. He keeps his head down, his shoulders hunched, and he's determined not to speak another word. 

As they walk through the lobby, he notices you standing at the desk, speaking to the receptionist. You're not smiling anymore, but Fox can still see the ghost of it on your lips, and he feels the strange warmth growing inside him.

Thorn elbows him, and Fox lets out a hiss, glaring at him through his visor. He's already starting to regret allowing Thorn to drag him here. This whole experience had been far more traumatic than the injury itself, and he would have been better off ignoring it. But as he looks back at you, his gaze lingering on your form, he finds that he doesn't really regret it. At least not entirely.

The receptionist hands you a datapad, and you nod, thanking her. You turn and look at him, and he quickly ducks his head, pretending to adjust his pauldron.

"Commander!" you call out. "Wait a moment."

Fox stops, and Thorn snorts. He turns and sees you approaching, a small smile on your lips.

"Forget something?" he asks, and he winces internally at how gruff his voice sounds.

"Yes, actually," you say, stopping in front of him.

"Okay," he says slowly. He doesn't really understand why you're talking to him again, but he's not complaining. "What is it?"

"Your frequency."

Fox freezes, his eyes widening. He can't believe what he's hearing, and for a moment, he's convinced that he's misheard. It doesn't seem possible. Not with how the day has gone so far.

He glances over at Thorn, who's practically vibrating with excitement, and he quickly turns back to you, his heart racing.

"Uh..."

"I'll have the receptionist check in on you every few days, just to make sure everything is healing up okay," you continue. You hold out your datapad, and he takes it automatically. "But if there's any complications, or you notice anything unusual, don't hesitate to contact me, okay?"

The breath leaves his lungs, and he's grateful for the bucket over his head. Right. Of course. You're his doctor. This is completely professional. The disappointment that floods his veins is surprising, and he mentally scolds himself. What had he been expecting, anyway?

“That won’t be necessary," he says, handing the datapad back. "But thank you."

You frown. "Commander..."

"It's fine." He turns and gestures for Thorn to follow. "Come on, we've got work to do."

He can hear Thorn muttering behind him, and he knows that his brother is probably annoyed, but he doesn't care. The warmth inside him has vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable numbness. He doesn't know what he was hoping for, and he's glad that the conversation is over. It's better this way.

You call out after him, but he ignores you, and within moments, he's out of the building and back on the street. Thorn is right behind him, and they start the long trek back to the office.

"I can't believe you just did that," Thorn mutters.

"Did what?" Fox asks. He doesn't look at him, keeping his eyes fixed forward. He can feel his face heating up, and he's suddenly feeling very tired.

"You're an idiot," Thorn says, shaking his head.

"Shut up."

They walk in silence for a few minutes, and Fox tries not to think about the conversation. It doesn't matter, and it's better to just forget it.

He's been doing this job long enough to know that it’s dangerous to get attached to people, especially when they were civilians. Things never worked out, and the risk of getting hurt was too great. He'd seen too many of his brothers get their hearts broken by the citizens they were trying to protect, and he wasn't about to let that happen to him. It wasn't worth it. And you weren't special, anyway. You were just another natborn.

He repeats these thoughts to himself over and over, and eventually, he starts to believe them. The warmth inside him disappears, and the numbness returns. He's relieved. He's finally starting to get his head on straight, and the sooner he forgets about you, the better.

And yet, when they reach the Senate building, Fox hesitates. His eyes wander towards the medical center towering over the cityscape, and he feels a twinge in his chest. He tries to ignore it, and he continues walking, heading towards the office. But the ache doesn't go away, and the image of your smile lingers in his mind, taunting him.

He doesn't know why it bothers him so much. He'd only just met you, and it was nothing but a brief conversation. There was no reason to be upset. But somehow, it feels like something was taken from him. And he can't figure out what it was.

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I'm sure this joke has been done before, but I just thought of it so 🤷‍♀️

At some point in 79s:

Fives: hey baby, you want a man that's a 5/5

Fox: *shoves Fives aside* get lost, she wants a 10/10

Everyone: ....

Her: 🙄

Hey, Vod'ika!! I'm in an Echo mood lately.

What about a fic where the reader has been with the batch since before the Empire and the reader and Echo got together round about the time of Order 66. The reader decides to join Rex's rebellion which Echo doesn't mind in fact he loves seeing you everyday. But after taking down Tantiss, Echo notices how you talk to the batch and how you just seem to fit in well on Pabu, so Echo gets an overbearing feeling that he's holding you back from an ordinary life so you have to reassure him that your home is wherever he is. ❤

Wouldn't Change A Thing

Summary: You’re always happy to get to visit your boys, and spending a week on Pabu is always a treat, but when you return to the fight with Echo after this most recent visit, he’s quieter and more withdrawn. And you’re worried.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1117

Warnings: None

A/N: This fic is soft, though I'm setting it in a perfect TBB AU where Tech is still alive. Because I'm a writer and I'm allowed to delude myself like that. (Though, he's actually not mentioned in this story). Anyway, I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You stretch your arms over your head with a groan as you step out of the fresher and into the suite you share with Echo. As much as you love visiting Pabu, and seeing your boys, sometimes you feel like you need a vacation to recover from your vacation.

Honestly, Hunter can be so exhausting sometimes. And that’s even with him mellowing out since Omega came into his life.

You’re so glad you’re not their handler anymore.

You stretch a little more and grimace when the sunburn on your shoulders pulls uncomfortably. It’s fine, you’ll have Echo put aloe on your back before bed.

Speaking of said man—

Your gaze sweeps across the room. He’s not sitting on the couch, and the bedroom door is propped open, so you can see that he’s not in there either. Then you hear the familiar sound of dishes clinking together, so you turn and poke your head into the kitchen.

Echo’s back is to you, but you’d be surprised if he didn’t know that you were there. For a moment, you watch the muscles ripple across his back, and a tiny smile lifts your lips as you lean your head against the door frame.

Maker, you love him so much.

Echo pauses, and turns his head slightly, “You’re staring.”

“Mm, yeah,” You say through an adoring sigh.

He rolls his eyes and flings a damp washcloth at you. It smacks your chest and falls into your hand, “I’m hardly worth staring at.”

“Agree to disagree, my darling~”

“Cyare.”

“My beloved.” You continue with a grin as you cross the room to stand next to him, “My only. My—” Your words become muffled when he presses his hand over your mouth.

“Hush, you.”

There’s color high on his cheeks, and you giggle in delight. Something softens on his face at the sound of your giggle and he moves his hand from your mouth just enough that he’s able to caress your jaw. 

“You’ve got a sunburn,” Echo notes as he lightly brushes his scomp across the burn on the back of your neck and upper shoulders. 

“Yeah, I’ll need you to help me with some aloe later,” You reply absently as you rub your cheek against the palm of his hand, “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, the love of my life wants me to massage lotion into her skin. Whatever shall I do?” He counters, deadpan.

“How is it that you become more sarcastic after spending time with the boys?” You marvel.

“It’s a defense mechanism for having to deal with little brothers.”

You laugh and reach up to cup his face, “Well, I like it when you’re sarcastic.”

“Only because it means that you can be sarcastic right back at me,” He teases with a tiny smile, though the smile fades as he scans your face.

“Echo? What’s wrong?” You ask him, with a tilt of your head.

“You looked pretty happy on Pabu.” He murmurs.

“I mean, sure. Who’s not going to be happy to be able to lie on a beach with a fruity drink?”

“You seem to fit in well there,” Echo continues, “And the others were so happy to see you. And you were happy to see them.”

“Honestly, I’m not convinced that they’re able to survive without me,” You whisper up to him like you’re sharing a secret. “I think Crosshair lost weight, can you believe that!?”

“Cyare,” The affectionate pet name is murmured through a sigh, and you drop your hands from his cheeks, so you’re able to wrap your arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong, Echo? Talk to me.”

“I love that you’re here. I love waking up and seeing you every day.” Echo says slowly, “But, cyare, if you’d be happier on Pabu. I can take you back. You don’t have to stay here.”

You blink at him, struck mute by his words.

Slowly your arms drop from around his neck and you take half a step back, you can’t think when you’re wrapped around him like that. “Echo,” You speak slowly, “Do you want me to leave?”

Echo draws you back into his arms. Unlike you, he thinks more clearly when you’re in his arms. “Never. I want you here, in my arms, all of the time.” He presses his nose into your hair, his voice soft right by your ear, “But if you’re not happy here, then I’ll let you go in a heartbeat.”

Well, that’s what it is to love someone, isn’t it? If you love them, really and truly love them, you’ll want them happy. Even if it means that they’re not with you.

A soft sigh falls from your lips and you turn your head slightly so you’re able to kiss the side of his head, “Have I ever implied that I’m not happy here?” You ask.

“No, but I know you. You’d downplay a fatal injury if you worried it was going to be an inconvenience.” Echo replies.

You wrap your arms tightly around him again, “Then allow me to be blunt,” You trail light fingers across his skin, tracing the scars that show you that your love is a survivor, “Yes, I like Pabu. And yes, I like seeing my boys.”

He tenses slightly, his arms tightening.

“But, Echo, I am happier on Pabu when you are there. And I am happier spending time with the boys when you are with me.” He pulls back slightly, so he’s able to look you in the eye, and you continue with a small smile, “My place, Echo, is wherever you are. Be it here, or Pabu, or a moisture farm on Tatooine.”

“Cyar’ika—”

“And I wouldn’t change a single thing.” You pause, “Well, maybe I’d change the whole rise of the Empire thing, but that’s the only thing I’d change!” You inch closer to him so that you’re pressed flush against his body, “I love you, Echo. And I will stay here, with you, until you get tired of me.”

“It’ll never happen.” Echo replies as he bumps his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure? I can be really annoying.”

“The most aggravating woman I’ve ever met,” Echo agrees, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, “But I wouldn’t change you for all of the credits in the galaxy.”

“Good.”

Any further conversation is unnecessary, as Echo’s lips catch yours in a deep kiss and he starts walking you back towards the bedroom. “I should get the aloe,” He murmurs against your lips, “Something something good boyfriend.”

“You just want to be a pervert,” You accuse.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” He laughs against your jaw, as he kicks the bedroom door shut.

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Thanks to the amazing encouragement of, and inspiration from @moonlightwarriorqueen I present my first fanfic in clone wars fandom. This is a Pride and Prejudice inspired Wolffe x Reader fluffy romp, with added appearances from my favourite Marshall Commander Fox, the Wolf Pack, Plo Koon and as many characters as I can shoehorn in appropriately lol.

P.S. If you haven’t read the amazingly gorgeous work of @moonlightwarriorqueen please can I suggest you do so forthwith. Their work is like a warm hug on a frosty day.

A truth acknowledged universally (part 1)

Wolffe x fem!Reader

Rating G

Trigger warnings: anti clone/adoptee discrimination in future chapters, discussions of money and food insecurity.

Wolffe scowled as the party reeled around him. The patch covering his eye itched something fierce, as the musket wound was still healing beneath it. .He had been dragged from his enforced solitude by the rambunctious pleas of his younger brothers, affectionately dubbed the “Wolf Pack” by those who had the misfortune to know them at their most exuberant.

To his left his father, Plo, dozed lightly despite the loud music played aggressively on the pianoforte which guided the dancers around the room. Wolffe moved gracefully to ensure that the blanket upon his father’s lap didn’t slip away under the weight of the abandoned book within his lap. His father had spent too long this afternoon expending his energy and had refused Wolffe’s gruff requests to rest. Despite being ostensibly retired, Doctor Koon spent many hours teaching the younger children in the village to read, saving their parents the schooling fees, so that they may more easily feed their families with the money saved. Wolffe could not be cross with his father, but he was concerned with the personal toll the unrelenting kindness took on his father as he entered his twilight years.

With a bone weary exhale, Wolffe watched as his younger brothers, Sinker and Boost, spun their latest objects of affection around the ballroom, both of them possessed with a giddiness and breathless joy he himself had not been party to in years. Wolffe didn’t begrudge them that joy, far from it, he wished he could bottle and preserve it for all his brothers so that they would never be without, but as the eldest sibling, the responsibility for his family's fortunes weighed heavily. The burden had become harder to shoulder since his injury at the hands of a French assassin had forced him home to recuperate. Wolffe could only afford a few more weeks before returning to the front line would be necessary for all of his family to remain solvent. Internally, Wolffe began to calculate the amount of time he had to remain before it would be deemed socially acceptable to leave.

With a crunch of strained wood, the ballroom doors swung open with an unbecoming lack of decorum. Wolffe’s gaze snapped to the entryway, assuming his other brothers, Comet and Wildfire, the irrepressible twins, had either escaped or joined the party without permission. Instead, he was surprised to see new faces. Arrivals were hard to keep under wraps in a village this small. Everyone knew each other's business faster than the carrier pigeons could arrive.

Wolffe studied the group who had interrupted the festivities. A bearded gentleman in naval uniform maybe a decade older than Wolffe led the way, his natural leadership and presence evident in his stride. He was flanked by a sandy haired young man with intense eyes, clad in a junior officers uniform, who was escorting a younger girl, whose dazzling blue eyes and scandalously matching coloured hair suggested trouble.

With a short whisper to the host, they were announced as First Sea Lord Benjamin Kenobi, and his young charges Officer Anakin and Ahsoka Kenobi. Behind them both, trying her best to blend into the wallpaper, was a young woman, unannounced and unnamed, she followed the trio indoors, eyes cast downwards.

Wolffe watched as the Lord and his family worked the room, intriguing all around them. There was an unseemly amount of fawning over the new arrivals which caused more than one exasperated eye roll from Wolffe as both Sinker and Boost, abandoning their dates for the evening, fell over themselves to pester Lord Benjamin for tales of maritime warfare and adventure.

Beside him, Doctor Koon stirred, awoken by the change in background ambience. He looked to Wolffe for support as he tried to rise to his feet, which his son provided dutifully and automatically without glancing downwards. Rubbing the unexpected sleep from his eyes, he felt his joints ache from the position in which he had taken his impromptu nap. No doubt he would be subject to a light scolding from his eldest son, who worried for everyone but himself. Plo looked to see what had taken Wolffe’s attention.

Wolffe seemed enraptured by a young lady who had entered behind the newcomers. Whilst they held court, this lady had sought out the serving staff and it looked as though she had asked, to their bafflement, to be put to work.

Plo supposed that this ask for employment was a diversionary tactic to avoid participation in the pantomime currently underway from her companions. Whilst Lord Ben and his young family enjoyed every moment of attention, this girl was determined to avoid it, and when her offer of assistance was politely declined, she took herself to the chairs at the furthest, and most empty corner of the room. She looked for all the world as though she wished to blend into the wallpaper. Dr Koon was surprised she hadn’t acknowledged Wolffe’s stern and probing gaze so far, but what was even more unexpected was the small jolt which travelled through his son as she did finally return his stare.

Icy blue gray eyes met the Wolffe’s remaining amber eye and a silent conversation took place.

Koon knowingly chuckled as he patted Wolffe’s arm, drawing his attention downwards, to support more of his weight. However, the brandy he had had after dinner sought to rush to his head and he swayed heavily, his heart fluttering too fast and too unevenly. As his vision narrowed, and the familiar blackness of unconsciousness encroached, all Koon could think was how much this would further worry Wolffe. He hoped the arms of oblivion would let him return. He had much to do.

I am working on my crosshair calico critter!

I just finished his blacks. Tomorrow, I'm going to start with his armor 💖

consequences be damned

Wolffe x F!Reader

word count: 3.3k

description: commander wolffe likes to berate you when you go against his orders, but this time, you can't supress the visceral reaction it brings.

warnings: not necessarily enemies to lovers but... a decent amount of arguing, mentions of negative clone treatment, i think that's it? idk man I'm tired

a/n: this is for all the girlies that cry when someone raises their voice at them! (me) anyway... i get nervous when discussing the treatment of clones and other kinda touchy stuff bc i just have this nagging feeling that i'm always interpreting stuff wrong, so I hope the stuff wolffe says at the end makes sense lmao

You heard your name called after you before you managed to make your escape to your quarters, desperately trying to avoid confrontation. Ignoring the Commander’s calls, you hurried down the hall, your strides much wider than your usual gait. You managed to get the door open, but a large hand wrapped around your wrist before you could evade the uncomfortable conversation.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The Commander snarled, tugging you back into the corridor and slamming his fist into the control panel to shut the door.

You lifted your eyes to his for a moment, your head still angled to the floor as if it would shield you from his foul temper. You had never seen him so angry.

“I asked you a question, soldier” He said, his voice dangerously low as his face drew near to yours, “Did you really think I’d let you off after what you just pulled?”

“Sir, I didn’t mean to—”

Wolffe interrupted you with a sarcastic laugh, “Didn’t mean to? You’ll have to do better than that”

You couldn’t look at him. You knew he’d react like this when he found out, but you still hated when he was angry with you. He was more hard on you than his brothers, he always had been. So much so that you felt there was something unsaid between the two of you, that there was some itch that he wouldn’t stop scratching even though he wouldn’t acknowledge what it was.

“I’m sorry sir” You peeped out. It was the only thing you could say.

You had no explanation for your actions. You had gone directly against his orders, knowingly, deliberately. You knew he would find out, you knew he’d berate you for it, and you did it anyway. You’d do it again if you got the chance.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it” He began, and you let him scold you without interruption, “I have told you, countless times, you do not get involved in the conflict. No matter what. Do you know how it makes me look?”

He paused, but you knew the question was rhetorical. In that silence it was hard not to think about the feel of his hand wrapped around your wrist, still keeping you in your place.

“I makes me look like I can’t control those under my command. If a medic can go against my orders then what’s to stop the rest of the men? Or the other nat-borns? I mean, do you even think? Clearly you don’t. You don’t have combat training, you could’ve been hurt, or you could have died”

He continued on, but you tuned him out. You had heard this barrage of demeaning comments more than once, and it was starting to feel like maybe it had become one time too many. If you had any more backbone you would’ve told him how much you despised when he did this. Although, Wolffe — along with almost everybody aboard the ship — was above you in rank. You couldn’t possibly give back to him this belittling commentary, so once again you stayed silent.

The worst part was that most of the time, Wolffe wasn’t even unbearable to be around, far from it. At any other time he was kind, in his own way. It wasn’t a way in which you’d seen anyone else express kindness, but you’d come to understand the way he operated a little by now. For example, something you had retroactively realised was a display of compassion, was that when you first joined the 104th, he had checked up on you everyday, albeit not in a particularly cheerful way. He had made sure you were comfortable in your new quarters, the ones you were now stood outside of being reprimanded.

There was something gnawing at the back of your mind, the feeling that you shouldn’t have to put up with this. You could hear your father in the back of your head, telling you that you had to learn to stand up for yourself. You hadn’t looked up at Wolffe once through his ranting, and you didn’t plan on it either, especially now as you felt your eyes becoming heavy with tears.

It was a natural response. You never liked being told off, and right now you felt as if you were a child again, your parents giving you a lecture about your shortcomings. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in a similar manner, silent and unacknowledged.

You didn’t know when Wolffe had finished laying into you, but when you stopped reflecting on the past and came back to the present moment, you realised that he wasn’t speaking anymore. You hazarded a look at him, once again keeping your chin pointed down. He was just staring down at you, his scowl replaced in favour of a more uneasy frown, finally removing his hand from your wrist.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, clearly unsure of how to even approach the situation.

“I’m fine” You replied, and your voice was surprisingly even.

He was still just peering down at you through his creased brow, frozen in his place and out of his depth.

“Why are you crying?” He addressed the situation head on.

“I’m not crying”

“You are”

“I’m n—”

“You are”

You looked to your feet, feeling absolutely infinitesimal under the full scrutiny of his commanding presence.

“Alright fine, maybe I am” You admitted in a whisper.

“Why?” He asked firmly.

“No reason”

“No reason?”

“Yep, no reas—”

“Stop it” He interrupted again, “What’s wrong?”

You let out a long breath, your chest heaving before it escaped your pursed lips. You could taste the saltiness of your tears, and you lifted a hand to wipe one of your cheeks.

“I just don’t like being told off okay? I can’t help it”

“I wasn't telling you off, I was—”

When he didn’t finish his sentence your eyes flicked back up to his. His frown had softened, and he was now chewing on his lip as if he was looking for something to say. You huffed quietly, your cheeks scorching with embarrassment at the whole situation.

“If it's alright with you sir, I'd like to retire to my quarters now” You spoke quietly, trying to escape this situation that was nothing if not awkward.

Wolffe stepped back from you, clearing his throat, “Yeah, go ahead”

You turned back to your door and opened it up. You had only taken one step inside when Wolffe spoke up again.

“Wait”

You turned around, your eyes finding his, flitting between the cybernetic and the natural. His usual scowl was nowhere to be seen, and he just looked at you with a plain expression, something unreadable.

“I don't want to have to tell you off” He said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

You mustered up a little courage after his change in demeanour, “Then why do you?”

His throat bobbed as he gulped, “I just want you to be safe”

The way that he was staring at you was entirely too much for you to cope with, so you lowered your gaze once again before you replied.

“Thank you sir, I appreciate that”

Wolffe reached up slowly, gently taking your chin and guiding your eyes to his. He gazed upon you with the utmost sincerity and apology as his thumb swept across your still-wet cheek.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you”

“That's oka—”

“It's not” He spoke resolutely, with no room for argument, then softened his voice a little, “You understand that I don't like to be angry with you, right?”

Something about your expression must have conveyed a sense of doubt, because Wolffe frowned when you didn’t reply.

“Do you really think-?”

“I don't think, remember?” You replied, in a oddly humorous way, despite the previous tone of the conversation. Wolffe gave you a disapproving look, and you backtracked, “Sorry Commander”

Wolffe was still holding you face, and the way his eyes were searching yours was making your stomach erupt into butterflies. His gaze was captivating, cementing you in place and rendering you speechless in a completely different way to when he had been scolding you earlier. You didn’t want to be the first one to break away, and thankfully Wolffe came to his senses soon enough.

“I should go”

He dropped his hand from your chin and stepped back. You nodded subtly in reply to his words, still unable to form your own, and he turned to leave with haste.

You watched him walk away as you leaned on your doorway, stalking down the hall with a pace to rival your hurried steps from earlier. His head turned back to you briefly, and you both instantly looked away, you stepping back into your room and closing the door as you felt your cheeks burn hot from being caught watching him.

It felt like something had shifted in your relationship, like something significant had happened. Perhaps it was your inadvertent show of vulnerability, perhaps it was the way his touch set your skin alight. Whatever it was, it was something that you couldn’t take back. Whatever was unsaid between you was coming to light, and you cursed your racing heart for getting ahead of itself.

You were crouched behind cover, your eyes locked on a trooper that had been knocked to the ground. He wasn’t moving, but going over to see if he was still alive was too risky, even if the focus of the enemy’s fire wasn’t in his direction any longer. You lingered, waiting to see even the slightest twitch of his fingers. He continued to lay motionless, his body sprawled in an uncomfortable position from the heavy blow he had received. You hoped, prayed, and they were answered in an instant, the man’s body curling in on itself as he groaned in pain.

You gulped, and slowly turned to look over your shoulder, only to see Wolffe watching you like a hawk.

“Don't you dare” He shook his head slowly, his voice low, almost a growl.

You hung your head a little, squeezing your eyes closed for a brief moment.

“I'm sorry Commander”

You rushed out from behind the cover, hearing your name being screamed after you in a desperate plea for you to do anything else. You didn’t pay attention, you were solely focused on making it to the trooper.

You pulled the man to his feet, throwing his arm around your shoulders and making your way back to cover, but you were not so lucky as to evade danger. Blasterfire ripped through the air surrounding you, causing you to duck out of its path, and take the injured man down with you.

“Get out of here!” The Commander shouted at you, stepping in front of you and shooting at the droids that had focused their fire in your direction.

You dragged to man the short distance back to cover, and as you were giving him a once over, assessing the issue, Wolffe ordered another medic to take over and tugged you further back from the front lines, around the corner of a crumbling building.

“What the kriff is the matter with you?”

He was angry. More angry than he had ever been, more angry than the previous rotation. And yet, there was a far clearer emotion swimming in his non-cybernetic eye, dripping from his pinched brows, washing over you with every heavy breath he exhaled. Worry, concern, utter distress.

“I thought I made it pretty clear that I don't want you anywhere near the action” He growled, evidently struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Despite his afflicted demeanour, you didn’t feel like having a repeat of the previous rotation, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins only sought to heighten you irritation.

“And I thought I made it pretty clear that I don't appreciate being told off” You grumbled back to him, not feeling brave enough to say it with your chest.

“Then stop doing stupid things!” He rebutted, his voice conveying every inch of exasperation he felt.

You shook your head as you dragged your gaze from him, starting to walk away. You weren’t going to be talked to like this again. For the second time in the last rotation, Wolffe’s hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, tugging you back.

“I'm talking to you”

“Well I'm not talking to you” You snapped, snatching back your arm and finally letting your irritation take over.

At first, Wolffe appeared to be taken aback. You had never so much as argued back at him before, but something about the fire burning in his eye told you that it was welcomed. He wanted you to fight back. He liked that you were fighting back.

“I refuse to be reprimanded for doing the right thing” You continued, letting him hear your true feelings on the matter.

“You refuse?” Wolffe seemed almost amused.

“Yes” You replied, but your confidence was slipping, “I refuse”

Wolffe laughed, taking a step towards you, “And I suppose you think you have the authority to refuse my orders? Seeing as it's the only thing you can seem to do right”

You stepped away from him, but with every step you took, he followed after you. It wasn’t long until he had backed you into the wall, and was towering over you with a challenging look on his face.

“I have free will, is what I have” You puffed out your chest in defiance, causing it to come into contact with his chestplate, “And I will use it to do the right thing, consequences be damned”

“It must be nice to be you, huh?”

You just frowned, not entirely sure what made him say that.

Wolffe’s face became stern, “You just get to flit about, playing the hero when you could so easily become the martyr acting the way you do, claiming it's all about ‘free will’ and ‘doing the right thing’. Well guess what? I don't have those luxuries. If I disobey orders, I get court martialled. I don't have free will, and I don't get to do the right thing, I get to do as I'm told”

You swallowed thickly as your body recoiled from his in shame. From his perspective, your actions certainly seemed silly and plainly misguided. Perhaps they were.

“I'm sorry Commander, I didn’t think—”

“No, you don't think, do you?” He retorted quickly.

You frowned deeply, drawing an enervated sigh from Wolffe.

“I would love to be able to consider what is right and wrong, but I am simply not allowed. Having the ability to think, to form thoughts unique to myself, but not get to enact any sort of ‘free will’, it's—” He breathed deeply, his forearm coming to rest on the wall beside your head, “Oh, the things I would do if I had free will”

His eyes bored into you through heavy eyelids, his self control hanging by a thread. He was so close to you, his body pressing yours into the wall, and it was taking all of your strength to not melt against him.

“What would you do?” You spoke softly, guiding him in the right direction.

He didn’t waste any time in replying.

“I would tell you that the reason I don't want you around the action, the reason I can't stand your stupid moral compass which makes you do stupid things, is because the idea of you getting hurt is my own personal hell. I would grab you and hold you close and keep you safe, I would never let you go. I would—” He puffed out a quick breath, mingling it with your own as he drew impossibly closer, “I would kiss you, and do every other thing I've been dreaming of since the first moment I met you. I would throw all of this away, if I got that chance”

There was not a single one of his words that were processing in your brain. For a moment you just stared at him, shocked, before the surprise melted from your face and you offered every measure of tenderness within you in a single look.

“Wolffe” You whispered, reaching up and placing a hand on his cheek.

His eyes closed at your touch, and his troubled expression eased slightly. He let out a shaky breath as he took in the warmth of your skin on his, but as soon as he had revelled in it for a moment too long, he put up his walls again.

“But it doesn’t matter, because I don't have free will” He stepped back from you but you were determined now, following after him.

“Well I do”

You practically leapt at him, your hands finding the back of his neck and pulling him against you, bringing him into a searing kiss. His hands instantly flung around your waist, tightening around you and drawing you into his body as if he was never going to let go, just as he promised. It was as if he only needed you to be the one that initiated it, and now, he had forgotten everything that was stopping him in the first place.

You let your fingers tangle in the curls at the base of his neck, and he pushed you backwards into the wall again, a soft groan sounding in the back of his throat. One hand came up to cup your cheek, and you were surprised at how softly he held you, a direct contrast to the way that he was devouring your lips, consuming your very soul with only his mouth and tongue.

You had to pull away, gasping for breath, and he did the same. He held you close as you both caught your breath, staring into each other’s eyes with a newfound fondness. It was intoxicating, to see him like this; his chest heaving from having kissed you with such an intensity. You felt like your psyche was being ripped from you with each heavy exhale, and you were watching from outside of your body.

“I'm never letting you go now” He continued to hold onto you like his life depended on it, burying his face in the exposed skin of your neck.

“I thought-”

“Don’t” He rumbled, “I don't care what I said before, there's no going back now”

You sighed blissfully and mirrored him, and coiling your arms around his neck and holding him tightly. The feel of his breath against your neck was heady, deeply exhilarating, but in the quiet of the moment, you couldn’t help but remember you were in the middle of a battle.

“Maybe we should-”

He lifted his head and cut you off with a deep kiss. You were powerless to stop him, but you didn’t care to anyway.

“Just a little longer” He pleaded, his eyes soft and slightly widened, “Please”

You let a small smile lift the edges of your lips, enamoured by the soft side that this kind of treatment brought out of him. It was almost amusing, how different he was acting as compared to his usual authoritative demeanour. He was putty in your hands, and you didn’t quite know how to handle it.

You brushed your lips lightly against his and spoke with a teasing edge, “Yes sir”

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

words in my mouth

Wolffe x F!Reader

word count: 3.7k

description: you never felt that your friendliness had made a positive impression on the ever elusive, always stern commander wolffe, but that all changes when he overhears a drunken game of truth or dare.

warnings: kinda grumpy/sunshine I suppose, a little fluff at the end, drinking, minor injury detail

a/n: was supposed to be working on my tech oneshot but... I got sidetracked. I also tried to make wolffe less toxic than how he's sometimes represented. grumpy king <3

“Hey Commander!” You chirp cheerily, passing the man in question in the hallway. You know you won’t receive any such a response from him, but you were nothing if not persistent. Sometimes, it was just fun to see his glare and the grinding of his jaw.

Truthfully, you didn’t do it to wind him up, you secretly hoped that one day he would relent and smile back at you. Though that was not in his nature, and perhaps you wouldn’t care to try if it was.

His eyes found yours at the mention of his title, and his teeth instantly ground together. You offered a sweet smile and a wave but his eyes held your gaze with a glare that was so equally lazy and irritated that you almost found it endearing. You were sure no one got under his skin like you did, and that's how you liked it.

“See you later!” You grinned as he walked past, clinging onto his glare so long that he was looking over his shoulder by the time you looked away.

You were stationed on Coruscant with the rest of the 104th for a few weeks at the moment. Usually, you worked aboard General Plo Koon's flagship as a strategist, which was how you got so many opportunities to irritate the broody Commander. You worked closely with him and the General before they were sent off on their missions.

The first time you had met Commander Wolffe, he was so taken aback by your friendliness and positive attitude that he had looked to his General, hoping for some kind of support. Seeing how confused it had made him, you just couldn't resist doing it every time you saw him outside of meetings.

Wolffe was thankful that you kept your overly-sweetened demeanour to outside of meetings, and it was when you became focused and as serious as he was during them, that he truly appreciated your role as a strategist. He wouldn't admit it to you, he hardly had to himself, but he secretly preferred your friendly off-duty persona.

He knew that you were friendly with everyone, but he got a certain thrill every time you went out of your way to say hi to him, to offer him that million-credit smile with the cutest spring in your step. He would be remiss to not realise how beautiful you were, everyone in his company had made at least one comment on it before, but again, he'd never let on.

Wolffe gave no indication of these thoughts and feelings that he kept close to his chest, in fact, he actively worked against them, glaring at you as he just had and not answering your questions that felt like they were meant to taunt him. You drove him up the wall, but in a way where he would lie awake at night and hope to run into you the next day.

Safe to say, you had no idea. No one did.

Though it wasn't long before your own affections came to light.

That night, you had been press-ganged into playing pazaak by Comet and Boost, both of them playing on the same side against you. You had groaned about how unfair it was, but by this point you were all drunk enough that it didn’t matter anymore. If anyone had walked in, they might not have even realised it was pazaak you were playing, you were all playing that poorly. Since you had lost all of your credits to the two clones - unfairly, as you kept reminding them - you were now playing for truth or dares. If they won, you picked truth or dare, and so on and so forth. Hilarity ensues, for them.

You lost another round, but you were past caring now.

“Alright. Truth this time” You sighed.

Comet grinned lazily, “I have a good one”

You rolled your eyes, “So, you mean, it’s actually bad”

“Shhhhh” Boost pressed a finger to your lips haphazardly, “Let the man speak”

You pushed him off, “Lay it on me”

“If you had to kiss one of us clones, who would it be?” Comet leaned forwards as he relayed the question.

“Ooh, that is a good one”

You laughed instinctively, “I’m not answering that”

“No. The rules dictate you must answer the question” Boost slurred.

“The rules?” You chuckled, “I think we lost our grip on rules a while ago”

“Cmon” Comet almost whined, pushing at your knee.

For a moment you placed a finger on your chin, pretending to think really hard, but then it was shortly over taken by a smirk as your brain brought forth exactly the clone to answer the question.

“So there is someone then!” Boost pointed at your borderline mischievous look.

“Keep your voice down!” You hissed at him, swatting his accusing finger away.

“You’ve got to tell us now” Comet insisted.

“No. I’m not saying”

“Okay well we’re just gonna start guessing and see how you react” Boost sat back in his chair, “Well there’s me, Comet…”

You rolled your eyes affectionately as they continued to list off people from their company. It was almost worth it to let them do it to see if they remembered everyone, but it was getting a little tiresome at the same time.

“Alright, alright. I'll kriffing tell you” You finally relented. Somehow they hadn’t guessed right yet.

The pair sat across from you leaned in with the biggest grins plastered across their faces, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes again.

“I guess I don't hate the idea of making out with the Commander” You said coyly, as if you didn’t know how insane that was going to make them.

They both let out a borderline scream, Boost even jumped up from his chair for a minute. Your laughter forced its way out of you from their reaction.

“So what you really mean is, you’ve already thought about making out with the Commander” Comet asked with a knowingly raised eyebrow.

“Alright, that wasn’t part of the game” You shook your head, sitting back.

“Come on” Boost whined, and it cracked you easily in your drunken state.

“Fine. Maybe I have. So what?”

If either of the clones grinned any wider their faces would surely have split in half.

“So that's why you're so friendly with him, you have a crush on him” Boost laughed loudly, and you jumped to cover his mouth, but just a little too late.

“Will you please be quiet!” You hissed, and they erupted into even louder laughter at your reaction.

You grumbled under your breath and moved back, picking up the bottle of spotchka and pouring them both another cup.

“I’m making sure the both of you don’t remember this tomorrow” You mumbled.

Regrettably, both Comet and Boost were fully operational with no hangover and a complete memory the next morning, unlike yourself. You didn’t have a particularly low alcohol tolerance but the sheer amount of straight liquor that you drank last night was catching up with you. You had an agonizing headache and felt so foggy that you didn’t even know you were walking past the Commander. He called out to you, and you realised you had been walking down the corridor with your head in your hand as you looked to the floor.

“Are you… Alright?” He asked hesitantly, the words feeling unfamiliar coming from him.

You cleared your throat and smoothed down your hair slightly, hyper-aware of your less-than-alive looking appearance. You had really hoped not to see him today. Your eyes found his, his one natural eye holding a certain level of concern that turned your stomach.

“Yes sir, just… Drank a bit too much last night is all” You spoke, and your voice was more hoarse than you were hoping.

“What were you drinking? You look awful” He crossed his arms, looking down at you with his usual frown.

“How kind of you to point out” You chuckled, “It was spotchka, Boost and Comet convinced me to play pazaak against both of them”

“Well that was a mistake” He said flatly, his eyes moving to something behind you.

“Yeah, I can see that no-”

You were cut off as someone shoved your back harshly, sending you flying towards the Commander’s chest. Luckily, he saw the incoming attack and grabbed your shoulders before you could make impact. It was the first time he had ever touched you, and if you weren’t so angry your brain might have lingered on the warmth you could feel through his gloves.

You whirled around, looking for the culprit, and as expected, there stood Boost and Comet, snickering with each other.

“You’re going to regret that” You seethed, and their eyes widened, running away as you leapt at them.

Wolffe watched you sprint after his men, and failed to suppress the small smile quirking his lips. He had a little idea of what that might have been about.

Over the next couple of days, you had to keep your wits about you, particularly when you spotted Wolffe in the vicinity. You were constantly looking over your shoulder, as you had now been shoved number of times, being sent careening into the Commander. You apologised profusely each time, then turned around to whack whichever one of the two menace clones had done it this time. Wolffe couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed by it, in fact, he almost looked forward to it.

He would grab your arms to steady you, and the wide-eyed look you gave him each time was enough to set his insides alive. One time, when you really hadn’t been expecting it, he had grabbed you by the waist, and somewhere in the altercation your hands ended up splayed against his chest plate. Your eyes went wide as always, and in addition, you cheeks flushed a deep red and your mouth hung agape. You couldn’t seem to move or say anything for a moment, only being snapped from your trance when Wolffe had raised an eyebrow at you. That interaction had only earned you an earful from Comet about how ‘down bad’ you were.

Even now as you walked into an important meeting, you couldn't get it out of your head, and the fact that Wolffe was stood waiting for you with the General was no help. The reality of your silly crush came crashing down on you. It wasn't just some fleeting fancy, this affection for Wolffe had been festering within you, and you had only been intensifying it each time you goaded him.

His eyes followed you as you walked inside, settling yourself at the central holotable and looking into it despondently. His eyebrows drew together in a frown as he walked towards you.

“Everything alright?” He asked as he rested on the holotable beside you. You jumped at the sound of his voice, looking up only briefly when realising who it was.

“Yeah, yeah” You replied non-commitally, causing Wolffe's frown to deepen.

“You sure?” He asked again, bringing his hand to your shoulder. You instinctively ducked away from it, stepping away from him, your body feeling like it had been struck by lightning.

“I'm fine” You managed to peep out.

Wolffe let his hand hang in the air for a moment, before he quickly brought it to his side again. What was he doing? He didn't touch people. He didn't double check if people were okay. But why had you moved away? Did he not overhear you right the other night? Was it someone else's name that you had said?

He could feel an embarrassed blush scorching his ears as General Plo Koon joined you both at the holotable, which he mostly did a good job of hiding. You, however, were doing a poor job of acting normal, and Plo Koon looked between the both of you suspiciously for a moment.

“Has something happened that I should be made aware of?” He spoke and you were pulled out of your mind that was purely filled by screaming thoughts.

“No sir” You shook your head, “Let's get to work”

Wolffe had always applauded your professionalism, and he was never more thankful for it than in that moment.

You had scampered from the command room as soon as the meeting was over. You didn't want to think for a while, so you had gone to your workstation in the hangar, hoping to rid the Commander from your mind.

Thus far, you had been unsuccessful.

You were trying to solder together two wires, but your hand kept slipping, your mind absolutely preoccupied by the few touches that Wolffe had allowed you in the past few days. Well, most of them had not been allowed, but the most recent one, the one you could still feel burning at your skin…

You grunted in frustration, just as Boost came strolling by with a wide grin.

“How’s it going?” He asked, spurred on by your glare.

“Not good. No thanks to you” You grumbled, looking back down to your work.

“Oh come on, it's just a bit of fun” He said, taking a seat on your workstation.

“For you. I can’t say I enjoy being pushed around all too much” You said pointedly, giving him a withering look.

He just shrugged with a grin, “I think you do really”

You huffed, continuing on with your work despite the distraction. At least your mind was off of Wolffe now. You weren't thinking about the feel of his hand on your shoulder, or your waist, the strength of his grip, this intensity of his gaze… oh kriff, who were you kidding.

“Boost I need you to-”

Before you could even register who's voice it was, Boost was pushing your side into the Commander. You cried out as the soldering tool stabbed and burned into your other hand suddenly, drawing blood and cauterising the wound all at once. It was a mess, and Boost immediately began apologising.

Wolffe sighed agressively, righting you again, “I'll patch her up, you best kriff off now Boost”

There was no room for objection in his tone, and Boost slinked off with another apology, and guilt weighing his shoulders.

“Do you have a medkit here?” Wolffe asked as you rested your back against the workstation, holding your hand closed with the other one.

“Bottom drawer” You said, unable to meet his gaze, unable to focus on anything but the searing pain in your palm.

He retrieved the medkit and opened it up, setting it down on the desk and taking off his gloves, “Alright, let's see it”

He took your hands in his, and that's when your breathing stopped. His hands were unexpectedly soft and gentle, pulling your hand away from the wounded one and opening it up. There was blood smeared all over your palm and fingers, but all you could focus on was Wolffe. The feeling of his hands as they cleaned you up, the gentleness of his grip and the lack of a scowl on his features.

“So are you going to tell me why the boys have been doing this all week?” He said, looking up to find you already looking into his eyes when he had wrapped your hand.

You huffed a bit, “I don't know, because they're idiots, mainly”

Wolffe hummed thoughtfully, “So it has nothing to do with the conversation I overheard the other night?”

You froze completely.

“What?” You managed to peep out, but it was barely above a whisper.

Wolffe’s lips curled into a small smirk, “Something about… not minding the idea of making out with me?” He jogged your memory teasingly.

You could feel your heart beating faster and faster, your insides constricting and your throat drying up. He had heard exactly what you had said.

“It was just a silly game we were playing” You tried to play it off but Wolffe wasn't having it.

“Mhm” He hummed amusedly, “A game which - if I'm not mistaken - has the word ‘truth’ somewhere in the title”

You had to rip your eyes from his at that point, it was becoming too uncomfortable, and you could feel the blush creeping up your neck. He stepped forwards so that his boots were touching yours, his chest almost against yours.

“So you're saying you haven't thought about it?” He asked, his voice in a slightly lower register, giving it a slightly gravelly tone.

You gulped. “No, I havent” You lied through your teeth, but you were never good at that, and it was given away by the quiver in your voice.

“That's a shame” Wolffe mumbled, and your eyes snapped back to his, slightly widened.

You were sweating at this point, your body feeling like it was on fire with his so close by. Wolffe just smirked knowingly.

“Ah, so it's true, you really do want me to kiss you?” He leaned forward a fraction more, his chest brushing against yours as he placed one hand on the bench behind you, the other finding your waist.

You were burning up under his gaze and now his touch, unable to think clearly.

“I feel like you're putting words in my mouth” You spoke breathlessly, clearly flustered as you looked between his eyes and anything around him in a panic. Wolffe just chuckled, gripping your waist tighter.

“I don't think I am darling”

By then, he was only a hairbreadth from your lips, and all the composure you still had was hanging by a thread.

“Commander, what…?” You trailed off, you couldn't make sense of the situation. You had assumed he found you completely irritating and just plain didn't like you, only holding it together in meetings because he had to. But now, with his breath mingling with yours, you were left confused.

“Do you not want me to kiss you?” He asked sincerly, his face moving back slightly and eyes flicking over your face for any sign that you didn't want this. Your eyes closed at the feel of his hot breath on your lips and you let out a shaky breath.

“I…” You couldn't muster up any words, your brain wasnt functioning as it should. The only thing you could get out, was “Why?”

He chuckled lowly, and your eyes opened to see the skin around his eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled fondly.

“Believe it or not, I don't find you anywhere near as annoying as I pretend I do. In fact…” He said quietly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear before settling his palm against your cheek, “I might even like you, just a bit”

Wolffe could see your eyes sparkle at his words, “Really?”

“Really” He said resolutely.

You couldn't help but smile up at him, that winning smile that he so loved.

“See, how could I resist a smile like that”

You blushed and looked down shyly, unsure how to deal with this kind of attention from the Commander. You were used to him being cold, not necessarily ignoring you, but just not engaging with your friendly advances. That, you could deal with, but this, was something else entirely.

He tilted your head up again with a finger under your chin, “Not like you to be so quiet. Something on your mind darling?”

The pet name rolled so easily off his tongue despite how strange it was to hear from him, but the more you became intoxicated by his presence surrounding you, the more right it felt.

He's right, usually you had something to say. A quick joke, a quip, a small compliment at the very least, but nothing was coming to mind. You could only look at him and hope to convey everything that your mind wouldn't bring forth.

Your eyes naturally flicked down from his, trailing along his mouth that was so close to yours, and back up to his cybernetic one. He was so effortlessly handsome, in a way you didn't see with the other clones. Perhaps his eye set him apart, or perhaps it was his usual attitude. You didn't know, but with him pressing you into your workstation, there was no way that you'd figure it out right then and there.

“Wolffe” You whispered, the name causing his eyebrows to raise. You had never called him by his name, not once, and that was certainly not lost on him.

“What is it, Mesh'la?” He said lowly, his head tipping forwards to lightly press his forehead to yours. Your breathing evened out at the comforting gesture.

“Kiss me” You whispered, your lips almost grazing his.

He grinned, speaking almost as quietly, “I thought you'd never ask”

Then his lips were on yours.

He held your waist tightly as his lips moved in perfect harmony with yours, melding together in a dance of quiet passion. You had never been kissed with such reverence, such intensity and yet such sweetness. His lips captured yours as if they were made to fit together, and they had finally found their purpose in meeting. The kiss didn't last long, but all that needed to be confessed was laced within it's lingering aftertaste.

Wolffe pulled away, his grin no longer taunting in anyway, but just one of genuine contentment. His thumb stroked your cheek gently as he held you to him with his other arm.

“Was it everything you hoped it'd be?” He asked, rubbing his nose against yours slightly.

You chuckled softly, a smile parting your lips, “It was way better”

“Better?” Wolffe raised his eyebrows slightly, “So, in your wildest dreams I was a lousy kisser?”

“That's not what I meant” You frowned a little.

“What did you mean then?” He asked with a growing smirk.

“Just that it was really grea-” You paused, observing his amused expression, “You knew what I meant” You rolled your eyes affectionately, earning an amused huff from Wolffe.

“I did” He mumbled with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I just wanted to hear you say it”

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