They Deserved Better

If you give Switch a drawing, he’ll be absolutely touched and literally keep it forever. 

He’s more than happy to carry you places on his back, especially if it inconveniences people he doesn’t like.

If you fall asleep on him he’s just gonna keep doing what he’s doing. He’s not at all phased by it. You might wake up when he gets fidgety though because he CANNOT sit still ever.

Likewise, cuddles with him are gonna be….eventful. He moves around a lot in his sleep so he might accidentally knock you off the bed. 

- He’d be more than willing to take his time in romancing you, starting out slow with very subtle flirting and moving up to little gifts and sincere declarations of his feelings for you. By the time he asks you out you are totally, completely crushing on him (just like he intended) and are thrilled to say yes.

- Lots of playful arguing/banter with him. And even when it’s just a lighthearted thing, he’s always right. He just is. He’s not an ass about it but you will not get him to admit he’s wrong. (unless he absolutely and totally screwed up and can’t deny it)

(Combined two requests: “Rowan comes back from a mission with a beautiful gift of jewelry for his s/o” and “Rowan sees his s/o dressed up fancy for the first time.”)

He’s getting some odd looks from the other troopers. Rowan can understand that - nobody really cares which squad or platoon or regiment you’re with when you’re trying to save as many men as you can, diving into an arriving gunship. So he doesn’t know the names of these brothers, and they’re probably wondering why he won’t stop taking out the intricately braided cord with the twisted gold pendant. Why he won’t stop watching the way it flashes in the minimal light as they head for the safety of a Jedi cruiser.

Rowan’s fine with that. He doesn’t care. Under his helmet he smiles and laughs quietly to himself. It’s perfect for you. You’re going to love it. Missing you all this time he’s been gone has been a dull ache in his chest, but now it’s sharpened painfully. All he can think of is you.

I’m coming, my love, my dear one. He doesn’t say the words out loud. But he thinks them very intensely and hopes none of the Jedi can hear him. I’m coming home to you!

…..

“I hate this and I’m not afraid to admit it!” you say around the fancy hairpins clasped between your teeth. “I’m just a technician. Why do I have to dress up so fancy?”

Jora, your co-worker and self-described “stylist” shrugs and makes a non-committal “I don’t know” sound. “Some bigwig senator is coming on board. Gotta make things pretty for him.”

You growl softly under your breath. “I’m things now?”

“Tsk. You know what I meant, you goof. Now stand still. I need to finish your makeup.”

“Jora!” you complain.

“Don’t move!” she insists, coming at you with a brush laden with some powder or other. “You want to look like a paint factory attacked your face?”

“That’s what I’m gonna look like anyway.” You can’t tell her the real reason you’re so resistant to this - Rowan’s due back on board today. What if you’re so prettied up he doesn’t recognize you?

“There. You look hot.” Jora stands back to admire her work. “You may go.”

You shoot her one last grumpy glare as you escape into the corridor. The dress uniform you’re wearing is stiff, itchy and uncomfortable.

“Stupid monkey suit,” you mutter angrily, shifting so it’s not so uncomfortable as you walk. “Stupid senator, stupid face paint…stupid, stupid, stupid!”

You round the corner and slip on the polished floor - only to be caught by a pair of strong, white-clad arms. 

“Careful,” says a deep voice through the trooper’s helmet. Your scowl melts into a delighted grin.

“Rowan!”

Forgetting his armor and your uncomfortable uniform you throw your arms around him, and his enfold you. He takes off his helmet then, and lets his dark braid swing free. “My love,” he murmurs. “The stars are in their right places now that you’re beside me.”

You giggle. “You use such pretty words, Ro.”

“Nothing compared to you…” he freezes with one hand in the middle of stroking your hair, and frowns. “Look up?”

You groan and tilt your face up toward his. “I know. It looks stupid. Jora says there’s some nerf-herding senator coming on board and we all have to look presentable.”

He says nothing for a few minutes - an uncomfortably long time. You search his face - his dark face, the glitter of his brown eyes, the scruff of his beard. “Rowan?” you say timidly. 

With absolute gentleness, he takes your face in both hands and gathers you to him, pressing his lips to yours with a sigh of satisfaction and peace; even as your eyes drift shut you make out the lines of his shoulders relaxing.

With his hands still cradling the sides of your face, he leans his forehead against yours. “Forgive me,” he breathes. “I was simply…struck dumb. I’m surprised I didn’t go blind from how lovely you are.”

“Rowan!” you gasp, heat rising to your face. “You’re a shameless flatterer, you know that?”

“Not at all.” He draws you even closer to him, like he’s making up for the time you were apart by removing all space between you. “Is it flattery if I simply speak what I know to be true?”

“Oh gosh.” You look down, burying your face in your hands. “You’re gonna kill me with saying stuff like that.”

“I hope not. Then I’d never get to give you your present.”

“Present?” You tilt your head sideways, and he laughs.

“You know you look like a baby tooka when you do that?”

“What is it?” you ask, and again he laughs at you. Then, from somewhere in his armor, he pulls out a beautiful necklace - a golden pendant shaped like a flurry of wind that’s been frozen, on a cord of tiny braided leather strands.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” you breathe, watching the pendant flash in the light. “Where did you get this?”

He looks away, slightly embarassed. “Well…Cat stole it from the planet. Crow liked the shiny thing and stole it from Cat. I thought it would look nice on you, so I took it from Crow.”

“You brought me stolen jewelry?” you ask, fastening it around your neck. He blushes slightly. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve paid for it, or…something.”

“You kidding?” you say, admiring it. “This is fantastic. Besides, it’s actually kind of badass.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” You stand back from him with your hands on your hips, striking a pose. “How do I look?”

His face softens as he takes in the sight of you, lips parting slightly in a tiny smile of wonder. “If I were struck blind in the next instant, I could die a happy man knowing I’d already lived to see the most beautiful being in the universe.”

It’s one of the facts of being with a clone that he’s going to be away fighting a lot…and that you’re going to miss him. When he comes home to you one day, he’s brought a surprise….

Wordcount: 2130

Warnings: None - just fluff, except for some other stuff that’s strictly implied.

Notes: I do not, nor have I ever, owned a kitten. And so I was obliged to do Research for this. 

@clone-appreciation I know this one wasn’t your request, but it is about Rex, so happy birthday anyway! Enjoy!

“I missed you,” you breathe. It’s an understatement. Something in you has clicked back into the right place with the universe, now that he’s in front of you, hands on your arms holding you close to him. Everything about him - his warmth, his scent, the solidity of his presence - makes you feel safe and wanted.

Rex leans his forehead against yours, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. You don’t so much see as hear the smile in his voice when he says “I know.”

These absolute losers here are the leaders of Topple Squad (and like a bunch of other troopers too but Topple Squad are like their family) All of these were a collaboration with my good friend @wiccanbat (some are entirely hers and you can blame her for how many sons and daughters I have now)

Helyne Maai (Jedi Knight)

-Pantoran; golden eyes, light sky-blue skin and pale purple hair. Very pastel-colored except for her eyes, which are quite intense. Likes to dress very simply and hates wearing sleeves, so she usually wears like tank tops and shorts pants with soft shoes. Wears her hair very simply braided and sleeps with it down and splayed around her in a cloud.

- is the Mom Friend absolutely 100% and has on multiple occasions refereed to her troops as her children/sons. When she loses a soldier, as soon as she has a minute alone and isn’t needed to lead her men, she cries for them. Does her absolute best to protect every single one of them.

-Extremely bothered by the moral questions of the war; she’s often said if she had more time, she’d be working on petitioning the senate for fair wages and treatment for the clones, but she figures if it’s the best she can do to take care of the men under her command, then she’s going to do that to the limit of her ability.

Falinx Chatyn (Jedi Padawan, belongs to @wiccanbat)

-Zygerrian; tan skin and pale grey hair/fur with yellow eyes and black sclera. Is very small at first, but later has a growth spurt and becomes hella freaking tall.

-Biologically female but identifies as nonbinary; but since they get enough flak for being a Jedi from a slaver nation/species, they usually don’t correct people who misgender them.

- Grumpy and growly af and is very slow to trust people, even slower to actually like them. They have Topple Squad and Helyne and that’s enough people for them. 

-Their ears are very expressive when it comes to their emotions, and if they’re not snarling at you with their very sharp teeth, the angle of their ears will usually tell you how they’re feeling.

Captain Daanin (CT-2327)

-Dad Clone. Undeniably. He most definitely feels personally responsible for the safety and comfort of every single trooper under his command. He’s also completely, totally, hopelessly in love with Helyne and it started when he came to wake her up for a mission briefing and saw her asleep with her hair all splayed out. 

-Has a short black dad beard and neatly combed back hair. His arms are covered with twining black vine tattoos, the same kind of vine that gave him his name. (He found this vine on a planet while stationed there as a shiny; daanin means “dragon” in the local language, for the twisting fiery shapes of the flowers)

-In keeping with the dragon theme, he has scales outlined over his entire armor in fuchsia, the accent color that all Helyne’s men wear. It’s very extra and it took forever to paint and he’s super hella proud of it.

-He almost never talks about himself, except when he’s had a drink. Then he’ll say anything. He rarely drinks for this exact reason.

Haze (CT-4536)

-Senior medic (Rags is kind of his apprentice) who has a very soft, melodic voice and who is very focused on alleviating pain in his patients. The ‘haze’ one gets from painkillers is part of the reason he got his name.

-The other part of how he got his name is because he really doesn’t see all that well, so things look kinda blurry to him unless they’re close. He would not make a good sniper. He makes this joke every time he has to lean close to see something.

-Chocolate brown hair shaved to a buzz cut and a clean-shaven face. His tattoos are rarely seen - one black dot on the print of each finger, which was hella painful but reminds him to be sensitive to the pain of those he cares for.

-His armor is hella cool - it starts out very dark fuchsia at his boots and the color fades in a gradient to white at the top of his helmet. Like a haze of color. 

ARC Trooper Jolt (CT-4537)

-Way too hyper. Do not give this poor man caffeine ever. He sees and hears everything - his only problem is he has trouble not reacting to everything he notices.

-Talks a lot when he’s nervous (which is often) and is almost constantly tapping his foot or fingers against something. However, once he’s actually focused on something (battle for example) it’s like nothing exists but the problem in front of him. This makes him a rather deadly fighter, and he’s quite brilliant when it comes to innovative strategies and thinking outside the box.

-Short stubble beard, and fluffy spiky hair that goes in every direction. Kind of always looks shocked. Has little lightning bolt tattoos on both sides of his face. 

Dancer; CT-4848

-Scout, very agile and quick on his feet

-ungodly good balance

-spends almost all his free time dancing on his own where no one can find him

-is usually the last one in the shower so his brothers don’t have to wait on him

-High Key Anxious 24/7

-tiny bit paranoid

-stutters a lot because his brain goes faster than his mouth

-panics a lot around older brothers and people of higher ranks

-steals all of the shampoo rations. No one says anything

Winger: When Winger notices you crying, he’d kind of slump down a bit, pursing his lips and sighing. “C’mere, kid,” he’ll say, (he calls everyone that) and pull you in for a hug before saying that anything making you cry deserves to be thrown from an atmospheric ship at speed.

He’s almost always guarded and tense and watchful, except when he’s deeply asleep. Then you can feel quite free to lift up his hand and drop it on his face and he won’t react. It’s gonna take him a while to wake up from that and while he’s half awake he has this big dumb smile every time he hears your voice.

Witcher:  He wants to know what is making you cry first, so he can make it better - he actually gets very upset on your behalf before he notices that he really just needs to hold you for a bit. 

Witcher has lots of little prayers and spells of protection he says in the morning, so it becomes a familiar sound to hear him murmuring strange words under his breath. He stops when he notices you stirring and leans over to kiss both your cheeks and your forehead, and then finishes his meditations.

Mouse: He first wants to make you feel better when he sees you crying, so expect some lame jokes and lots of hugs and kisses before he finally asks what’s got you so down. He can be a bit vindictive so he might suggest petty vengeance if it’s a person.

No matter how many times you try you can never catch Mouse sleeping. You always fall asleep on his chest before he drifts off, and when you wake up he’s invariably already dressed and bustling around. He’ll grin at you and say “Morning” like he knows exactly what’s going on. If you ever did see him asleep though, you’d see him with the most serene, peaceful, innocent face ever.

Trouble: It probably takes him a minute to notice you’re crying because he’s absorbed in a book, but when he does look up and see you with tears in your eyes he gets this stricken look on his face and (panicking, not quite sure what to do) kisses you on the mouth before apologizing and asking you what he can do to help. He’s so cutely flustered you can’t help laughing.

His hair is adorably messy in the morning and (like someone else who used to be on Topple Squad) he really appreciates it when you help him comb it. Finds it very relaxing, he says, and you both use that time to talk about nothing and everything.

Rags: He is nearly always stressed or flustered but when he sees that you need his undivided attention, he’ll go more - peaceful, in a way, and get this kind of stillness about him that’s very soothing. Even though he really doesn’t, he acts like he has all the time in the world to talk things through with you, as if you’re the only other person that exists right now.

Sleeping is the only time Rags looks peaceful and at rest, and so you do everything in your power not to wake him up when you awaken first. He’s a light sleeper, though, so it’s a rather difficult game.

Tala: She doesn’t need to see you crying to know something’s wrong and probably what it is, too, so by the time you’re actually in tears she shows up with space ice cream and two spoons and asks if you wanna talk about it. Plus when you’re feeling sad she’s capable of some really wonderful emotional projection that is infinitely soothing.

In the mornings waking up Tala is very cute - all sleepy eyes and yawns and messy hair and too-big pajamas. She almost always pulls you back to bed to cuddle her for a while if you get up first.

Rowan: Rowan’s immediate reaction to seeing your tears is to scoop you up in his arms and kiss all over your face, murmuring beautiful gentle words that only half make sense. He calls you all kinds of flowery pet names - my love, my heart, dear one, that kind of thing. He only wants to know why you’re crying if it pertains to making you feel better.

Rowan, frankly, looks beautiful when he sleeps, like some fairy-tale prince. He sleeps with his hair down and it’s splayed all around him like wings, and he’s got a very gentle smile on his face.

Crow: His outward reaction is mild, gentle concern, but you know him well enough to know that means he’s probably actually really upset about seeing you sad. And that if you give any indication it was a person who made you feel liek this he’ll rob them blind with no remorse.

Waking up has always been a rather abrupt transition for him - one second he’s sleeping peacefully and the next he’s catapulted to his feet trying to accomplish a million things at once before he’s even had breakfast. Sometimes you have to physically drag him back to bed to snuggle you and relax a bit.

Switch: He comes by laughing about something, but the grin is instantly wiped off his face when he sees you’re crying. His first instinct is to wipe the tears from your face and crouch down to look up into your face with an encouraging smile. 

Switch is a confused baby in the mornings when he’s actually awake, but it’s more than likely you wake up first to find him sprawled out with his arm across your face. He wakes up when you move it and the first thing he does is to drink down the entire jug of water beside the bed that was supposed to be for everyone.

Charm: He kind of freezes when he sees you crying and tugs you along to somewhere private so he can ask what’s happened and who he needs to beat up. He wants to make sure you’re 100% okay before he lets you go on your way.

He’s similar to Winger when it comes to sleeping, in that he’s not really awake until he’s had at least three cups of coffee, so he’s not as grumpy or on guard and he gets very snuggly in the mornings.

Cat: On seeing you in tears Cat would let out a soft gasp of distress and immediately rush to hug you. Then he asks what’s wrong and probably wipes the tears from your cheeks while trying to make you smile. 

(Request:  Cody’s Jedi s/o gets injured protecting him, and then very high on painkillers. He has to help them to bed. Fluff. (combined three requests) 692 words.)

“Was that really necessary?” Cody asks with an exasperated huff as he lifts you off the ground. The threat is gone now, and so the dangerous warrior’s light in his eyes has gone, replaced by frustrated concern.

 “Of course,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to concentrate on anything but your leg. “That droid was gonna kill you!” “ 

“How many times do I have to explain this, darling?” He points to himself, tapping his breastplate, and then at you. “Clone, Jedi.”

“Huh. Funny,” you hiss, seeing stars from the pain. Is it broken? Agh! Not now, that’s not gonna help. “You know what I see?” Mimicking him, you gesture to yourself and then tap your fingernail on the hard plastoid of his armor. “Person, person. Not that complicated. And I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”

“Like what?” Sunlight glints off his scars as he scans the ground ahead, and you see his eyes focus on the tents coming into veiw.

“Like you don’t matter,” you say tightly. He stumbles slightly, jostling you, and you hiss out air through your teeth. “Oh kriffing hell it hurts -”

“See? I could’ve handled that!” he mutters, quickening his pace to reach the med-tent. “Which one of us is wearing full body armor?”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying not to scream. “You are.”

“So who should be the one jumping in the path of rampaging commando droids?”

“Me,” you say stubbornly. “Not sorry!”

Cody sighs in exasperation and kisses your forehead as he ducks into the med-tent. “You stubborn Jedi. What am I going to do with you?”

“Buy me dinner and kiss the heck out of me,” you say automatically. “But first get me some painkillers!”

……..

Whoa.

Ha….whoa. You hold up your hand in front of your face; it feels like you’re moving through water and it’s a very pleasant feeling. Your leg feels weird, and there’s something wrapped tight around it. You smile goofily at the way your fingers are waving around. “Whoo…”

“What was in that?!” The snapping voice is very familiar. You know him. You know him, he’s yours. Cody! You try to look around, but it takes a little while.

 “There you are,” you say, and your voice is soft and slurring. “Saved you! You’re it.” Cody’s face registers mild concern, and he takes your hand and squeezes it.”

“What was in that stim?” he hisses at the medic, who raises his hands defensively.

“Same thing that’s in all the others, sir,” he says, sounding a bit sulky. “Some people just have weird reactions.”

“You better hope the commander isn’t harmed by this,” Cody warns, his voice clipped. “Dismissed.”

“Yes sir.” The medic turns on his heel, leaving you and Cody alone in the tent. He sighs wearily, scrubbing a hand down his face as he sits on a chair beside your bed.

You smile at him. “You’re pretty.”

“I’ve heard worse,” he says, tilting his head. “How are you feeling?”

Your smile grows wider as you lean back on the thin pillow and close your eyes. “Goooood.” You stretch out the word like sweet, soft candy, and can imagine Cody rolling his eyes when you hear him scoff.

“I’m sure,” he says dryly, taking your hand. “Listen, love, I don’t know if you’ll remember this at all, but I need to tell you - don’t ever do that again.” He glances furtively around the tent before leaning in close to your ear. “I love you. I can’t see anything more happen to you because of me.” 

Somewhere in your brain, the words register as touching and heartfelt, and you wish - really - that you could react appropriately and tell him how much you love him, too.

But there’s a disconnect somewhere - probably from the painkiller stim. You reach a clumsy hand up to his face and stroke his cheek; he leans into your touch, his eyes lit gold in the lamplight.

“Cody,” you say carefully, trying to focus.

“Yes, my darling?”

Your tongue feels thick; you swallow and blink hard. “Love you,” you manage. “Me. I do. I love you.”

(Request:  -Wolffe attempts to distract an s/o who is super-stressed and working too hard. 479 words.)

It’s a strange state you’ve gotten yourself into, really, but not an uncommon one. Time doesn’t seem real anymore. Your hair and skin are both sweaty and waves of heat roll over you as you scrub at the ashes scoring this starfighter. 

It’s been hours since you ate  - or drank, or took a break at all for that matter. But there’s just so much work to do. Seeing all of it ahead of you, your brain slipped you into this hyper-focus mode. Nothing exists but the task in front of you. Your eyes sting with sweat. “Gotta get this done,” you whisper to yourself. It’s the fifth time this past hour.

You don’t even look up when footsteps approach from behind, or when they stop abruptly. Or when you hear curses muttered under breath.

You do look up when Wolffe sets his hand on your shoulder and turns you around to face him, his eyes narrowed at you.

“What are you doing?” he demands. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Pfft.” You wave a hand dismissively and eye the unfinished starfighter, still grimy with ash. “Time? What’s that? I got work to do.”

“I mean it,” he says, hauling you to your feet. “Go to bed.”

“Make me,” you say with a wink, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk.

“Oh, I can arrange that,” he mutters, looking at your lips, and your stomach flips. You look away, hoping he won’t notice how hot your face has gotten.

“Not fair,” you mutter, suddenly aware of just how tired you are. “Supernatural hotness powers are cheating.”

“Oh, you think this is a game?” With one hand under your chin he turns your face back toward him, his one brown eye sparkling, as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I will use every advantage I have.”

His breath by your ear raises shivers on your skin, and you lean closer to rest both hands on his shoulders. “Alright,” you say, looking up into his handsome face. “Kiss me and I’ll go to bed. Fair deal?”

He squints at you, tilting his head sideways as he considers you. “Almost,” he says finally. “Your breath is terrible. When was the last time you ate something.”

“Uhh…” Eyes widening in panic, you think backwards, chewing on the corner of your lip. “Food was…a thing? A while ago. I think.”

Wolffe rolls his eyes and sighs loudly, then stabs a pointing finger at the door. “Mess hall. Now.”

As if on cue your stomach growls like a surly animal. You smile guiltily at Wolffe, but can’t resist one last try as you follow him to the door.

“Yes, sir,” you mutter, walking a little ahead of him. He overtakes you quickly and slings an arm around your waist.

( Maul tells his apprentice that they’re a contradiction and they are very confused about that and eventually confront him and there is kissing. @the-flying-elephant gave me this idea a long while ago, so enjoy, love!)

Words: 972

It’s the sun, more than anything, that’s driving you crazy.

You can deal with the sweat and the burning of your muscles, the sting of blows landing on you when you weren’t fast enough to dodge them. You can deal with moving so fast the world blurs around you.

But this heat - it’s making you angry. Which, possibly, was Maul’s intention, since you are training with the Dark Side and all.

The wooden staff smacks into your shoulder. “Ow!” you hiss, and bring your own up to knock it away. 

“Pay attention,” Maul growls. “If this were a true fight I could’ve slain you nine times already.”

“Then get it over with,” you snip back, grinning at him as you swing your staff at his head. “Since I’m such a disappointment and all.” The staff glances off one of his horns, and the snap of sound echoes around the stony courtyard.

“Funny.” He takes your staff, then throws it, along with his, off to the side. “Hand to hand. No Force tricks. Fight me, apprentice.”

“You’re on, red man,” you pant, and lunge at him.

There’s a chaotic blur of heat and pain and motion. You grit your teeth, shut down, and react. Let your instincts take over, blocking and lunging. You’re doing better than usual, but it still ends the way it always does - with your back slamming into the ground with his forearm pinned across your shoulders. The breath huffs painfully out of your lungs and you cough, turning your face aside.

“Good one,” you croak. “Almost got it that time.”

“Oh, did you?” He smirks as he helps you to your feet. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, maybe you’re easy to fool.” You shake the dust from your hair and clothes. “Maybe I’m letting you win.”

He laughs - an unexpected sound, loud and ringing and clear. You’ve made him smile before - quick, reluctant smiles mostly - but this is different. You’ve never heard him laugh like this. He looks you up and down, every dusty inch of you, and you really, really hope the heat creeping up your neck and face is from the sun. For a minute, you’re distracted by the vivid gold of his eyes.

“You’re quite the contradiction, my apprentice,” he says, and then turns on his heel and leaves.

Wait…what? You blink, staring after him and wishing you’d asked earlier. Just as you’re about to call after him, he shuts the door behind him. 

Ooookay. You kick at the ground, frowning. “What does that even mean?”

…..

Hours later, you’ve had about all you can take of pacing and wondering and thinking. And for some reason (you suspect he’s avoiding you, but why?) he left the house soon after your sparring session ended, saying nothing more than for you to stay there and wait.

“Wait, my ass,” you mutter venomously, watching the front gate with narrowed eyes. “He’s gonna get it when he gets back.”

“Oh, am I?” Maul strides through the gates, locking them behind him as his golden eyes flare. “Please, enlighten me as to how.”

“With a hacksaw,” you fire off automatically. Part of you cringes, but you’re miffed enough at him that you don’t stop; you stomp forward to meet him. “You can’t just say cryptic statements like that about me to someone so curious! I need to know things, okay?”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Careful,” he growls. “You know to whom you speak.”

You huff and look down. “Fine. Sorry. But please, just tell me what you meant? I’ve been going mad thinking about it all day.”

“Have you now?” he muses, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Well, that’s useful information.”

Unable to stop the reaction, you stomp your foot and whine at him. “Tell me! Come on, please?”

With his arms crossed, the zabrak tilts his chin up and considers you - again. With that raking gaze that makes your stomach flip. He so does that on purpose, you just know it.

“What did I mean?” His voice is quiet as he meets your eyes, and you can’t look away. “Just what I said - you’re a contradiction made flesh.”

“Thanks,” you say weakly. “That really clears it up.”

“You’re powerful, but vulnerable. Strong in your anger, but stronger in your laughter.” He smirks. “You hurl your petty insults at me, always ready with a clever comment, and yet I sense you crave my approval.”

Okay, your face is definitely too hot now. You look down. “I do not,” you mutter lamely. It’s a total lie.

“As you should,” he purrs, stepping closer to you. “Am I not your master, and you my apprentice?”

“Y-yes,” you mutter, swallowing hard. “And there’s maybe kind of a little bit of truth to that? Just a bit, though.”

“Of course.” His eyes flare and he smirks, stepping even closer. “That is also a reason, you know.”

“What is?” You’re hypnotized by him. Your voice is barely a whisper. 

“You act like you feel nothing - like an accursed Jedi. And yet any fool with even the slightest Force sensitivity could sense the depth and intensity of your feelings.”

“Great,” you mutter, finally breaking his gaze. “So you know then.” You don’t have to say what he knows. He’ll - well, he’ll know. Know how much you love him.

“Of course I know.” Suddenly he’s inches from you - you can feel the heat of him, and look up sharply to meet his eyes just as he grabs your face and crushes his lips to yours, breaking away only seconds later. “How could I fail to see?”

(Jedi!reader is looking for Plo Koon to deliver a message and Wolffe is outside his gunship with his helmet off. He’s wounded and reader’s first reaction is to ask if he’s okay, which he finds a little strange.)

Words: 679

If you didn’t have the Force you’d more than likely have dropped all the medical supplies you’re carrying. You can hardly see over them.

“Is this really a job for a Jedi?” you grumble, already knowing the answer. A newly knighted one, yes. You’re still practically a padawan to most. Still, three jobs in less than an hour - all given to you by separate people! You should learn how to say no. Then you wouldn’t be carting supplies to the medbay and trying to find Master Plo to deliver a message from Skywalker. 

You’re indulging in some well-deserved grumbling when you spot a gunship with very specific nose art. A Kel-dor face with clone helmets around it. That looks promising, you think, and veer towards it.

“Oh, no. You are not dumping that here.” 

“What?” Surprised by the almost hostile tone, you stumble and the supplies clatter to the ground. Scrunching up your nose, you glare at the clone officer who’s lounging back against the closed door of the gunship. His face is turned away from you, and he’s only wearing the bottom half of his armor. 

“See what you did?” you scold. “Now I gotta pick all this up.”

He doesn’t reply, seeming almost amused as you struggle to pick up all the things you’d dropped. You huff out an angry breath.

“You could help me, you know,” you grumble, dropping about six boxes of stim injections. “This isn’t as easy as it looks!”

“Can’t,” he grunts. His voice is deep and has a rough timbre to it, though he doesn’t seem to like using it much.

“Oh yeah?” You arch an eyebrow and straighten up. “And why would that be, wise guy?”

Instead of answering, he turns toward you. One eye is scored through by a silvery scar, and is nothing but a opalescent marble of a cybernetic. And that’s when you notice the twisted mess of his other arm, the strange way it’s hanging. Details jump into sharp focus - the tight lines of pain around his eyes and mouth, the shadowed, pale cast of his skin and the sweat beading on his forehead. 

“Oh, kriff,” you mutter, and drop the rest of the supplies. “I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot sometimes - are you okay? Why haven’t you been to a medic yet? That looks bad - here, let me help -”

His eyes narrow and he backs away from you without replying. He doesn’t have to say a single word to say don’t touch me. You drop your hands and step back.

“Sorry,” you say again. “But I’m serious, you need to get that seen. You’re clearly in pain. What are you doing standing here?”

“Waiting.” He says it through his teeth, but it’s more because of pain than annoyance. “For the General.”

“Which one?”

Light flares in his one brown eye and he manages a tiny smirk, lifting one eyebrow. “You ever stop talking, Commander?”

“Nope.” Crouching down, you pick up a box from the pile - a painkiller stim. “At least take this - sorry, what’s your name?”

“Wolffe.” Reluctantly, he holds out his good arm so you can give him the stim. Your eyebrows shoot up as you push the plunger down, watching as his lips pull back from his teeth.

“Commander Wolffe?”

“No,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m some shiny, fresh off Kamino.” He rolls his neck and flexes his good shoulder and arm as the medicine takes effect. “Who else would I be?”

“I dunno….but you just made my day a lot easier.” You break into a relieved smile. “I’m supposed to find General Plo and deliver a message - Skywalker’s comm broke and he sent me as a replacement. But since the general will probably find his commander -” You sit, crossing your legs and leaning back against the gunship. “I’m gonna wait with you.”

You giggle at his loud groan. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother me?”

“Not particularly, no.”

It’s a secret little thing he does - not even his closest brothers know. And he doesn’t think it’s that important to you, but it is. Every flower from every planet he’s ever brought you is carefully preserved in a book, and he’s wonderfully surprised when he finds that out.

Wordcount: 1805

Warnings: Implied NSFW (implied.)

Notes: This is so CUTE I just can’t

It’s orange. That’s all Jesse can think as he stares at the flower, sitting with its face turned to the Raydonian sun. I’ve never got one that color before.

Okay, so he’s gotten orange flowers before, but none that particular color. The very tips of the spear-shaped petals are deep red, fading down to pale orange and finally a bright pink in the middle. 

“Jesse?” Hardcase nudges his shoulder. “Hello?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jesse shakes his head and turns his eyes away from the flower, to his very confused brother. “What?”

Hardcase tilts his head sideways. “What are you…you were just staring at nothing.”

Not nothing, his brain corrects automatically. But he doesn’t say it, not even to Hardcase. He’s not sure who he can trust with this - not so much with the flower, but with who it’s for. It’s such a new thing for him. He’s not exactly who it’s alright to tell about it. About you.

“Forget about it,” Jesse mutters. “Just thinking, that’s all.” His statement earns him a narrow-eyed look from Hardcase. 

“You’ve been like this all day,” he remarks. “What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing,” Jesse says, avoiding his eyes. He leans down and picks the flower, tucking it carefully into a space in his armor. “I’m not seeing any activity - we should get back to base.”

…..

You sit sprawled out on your tiny couch, feet hanging over the edge. You know you should probably get up and make yourself dinner, but it’s been a long day at work, and you need a minute. Some wind-down time, some quiet, do-nothing-but-breathe time. And so you do just that: you shut your stinging eyes, kick the shoes from your aching feet, and let out a long drawn-out sigh as you lean your head back against the couch’s arm.

“They should really be nicer to the waitstaff,” you grumble aloud to nobody. “Who knows? I could snap one day and poison their soup, and then where would they be?”

Only silence answers, but in your tired state, the absence of a wry laugh and witty reply hits you sharply. All of a sudden, your chest hurts from missing him. Oh, Jesse, come home to me, you think, seeing patterns behind your tired eyelids. Come home.

Ko-Fi Link

The puppies are doing excellently! A few of them have left/been adopted, so there are four left now - Simba (who gets so happy when he sees people he trips trying to lick their feet) Rosie Cotton (Tiny smol runt who is also the Alpha Floof and will fite the world), Rex (who is literally the most chill puppy in the world) and Poppy/Tater Tot (she answers to both and is like the biggest friendliest goof ever).